Part 4

[Note 27: The foregoing stanza requires explanation. Russian pancakes or “blinni” are consumed vigorously by the lower orders during the Carnival. At other times it is difficult to procure them, at any rate in the large towns.

The Russian peasants are childishly fond of whirligigs, which are also much in vogue during the Carnival.

“Christmas Carols” is not an exact equivalent for the Russian phrase. “Podbliudni pessni,” are literally “dish songs,” or songs used with dishes (of water) during the “sviatki” or Holy Nights, which extend from Christmas to Twelfth Night, for purposes of divination. Reference will again be made to this superstitious practice, which is not confined to Russia. See Note 52.

“Song and dance,” the well-known “khorovod,” in which the dance proceeds to vocal music.

“Lovage,” the _Levisticum officinalis_, is a hardy plant growing very far north, though an inhabitant of our own kitchen gardens. The passage containing the reference to the three tears and Trinity Sunday was at first deemed irreligious by the Russian censors, and consequently expunged.

_Kvass_ is of various sorts: there is the common _kvass_ of fermented rye used by the peasantry, and the more expensive _kvass_ of the restaurants, iced and flavoured with various fruits.

The final two lines refer to the “Tchin,” or Russian social hierarchy. There are fourteen grades in the Tchin assigning relative rank and precedence to the members of the various departments of the State, civil, military, naval, court, scientific and educational. The military and naval grades from the 14th up to the 7th confer personal nobility only, whilst above the 7th hereditary rank is acquired. In the remaining departments, civil or otherwise, personal nobility is only attained with the 9th grade, hereditary with the 4th.]

XXXVI

Thus age approached, the common doom, And death before the husband wide Opened the portals of the tomb And a new diadem supplied.(28) Just before dinner-time he slept, By neighbouring families bewept, By children and by faithful wife With deeper woe than others’ grief. He was an honest gentleman, And where at last his bones repose The epitaph on marble shows: _Demetrius Larine, sinful man, Servant of God and brigadier, Enjoyeth peaceful slumber here_.

[Note 28: A play upon the word “venetz,” crown, which also signifies a nimbus or glory, and is the symbol of marriage from the fact of two gilt crowns being held over the heads of the bride and bridegroom during the ceremony. The literal meaning of the passage is therefore: his earthly marriage was dissolved and a heavenly one was contracted.]

XXXVII

To his Penates now returned, Vladimir Lenski visited His neighbour’s lowly tomb and mourned Above the ashes of the dead. There long time sad at heart he stayed: “Poor Yorick,” mournfully he said, “How often in thine arms I lay; How with thy medal I would play, The Medal Otchakoff conferred!(29) To me he would his Olga give, Would whisper: shall I so long live?”— And by a genuine sorrow stirred, Lenski his pencil-case took out And an elegiac poem wrote.

[Note 29: The fortress of Otchakoff was taken by storm on the 18th December 1788 by a Russian army under Prince Potemkin. Thirty thousand Turks are said to have perished during the assault and ensuing massacre.]

XXXVIII

Likewise an epitaph with tears He writes upon his parents’ tomb, And thus ancestral dust reveres. Oh! on the fields of life how bloom Harvests of souls unceasingly By Providence’s dark decree! They blossom, ripen and they fall And others rise ephemeral! Thus our light race grows up and lives, A moment effervescing stirs, Then seeks ancestral sepulchres, The appointed hour arrives, arrives! And our successors soon shall drive Us from the world wherein we live.

XXXIX

Meantime, drink deeply of the flow Of frivolous existence, friends; Its insignificance I know And care but little for its ends. To dreams I long have closed mine eyes, Yet sometimes banished hopes will rise And agitate my heart again; And thus it is ’twould cause me pain Without the faintest trace to leave This world. I do not praise desire, Yet still apparently aspire My mournful fate in verse to weave, That like a friendly voice its tone Rescue me from oblivion.

XL

Perchance some heart ’twill agitate, And then the stanzas of my theme Will not, preserved by kindly Fate, Perish absorbed by Lethe’s stream. Then it may be, O flattering tale, Some future ignoramus shall My famous portrait indicate And cry: he was a poet great! My gratitude do not disdain, Admirer of the peaceful Muse, Whose memory doth not refuse My light productions to retain, Whose hands indulgently caress The bays of age and helplessness.

End of Canto the Second.

CANTO THE THIRD

The Country Damsel

‘Elle était fille, elle était amoureuse’—Malfilatre

Canto The Third

[Note: Odessa and Mikhailovskoe, 1824.]

I

“Whither away? Deuce take the bard!”— “Good-bye, Onéguine, I must go.”— “I won’t detain you; but ’tis hard To guess how you the eve pull through.”— “At Làrina’s.”—“Hem, that is queer! Pray is it not a tough affair Thus to assassinate the eve?”— “Not at all.”—“That I can’t conceive! ’Tis something of this sort I deem. In the first place, say, am I right? A Russian household simple quite, Who welcome guests with zeal extreme, Preserves and an eternal prattle About the rain and flax and cattle.”—

II

“No misery I see in that”— “Boredom, my friend, behold the ill—” “Your fashionable world I hate, Domestic life attracts me still, Where—”—“What! another eclogue spin? For God’s sake, Lenski, don’t begin! What! really going? ’Tis too bad! But Lenski, I should be so glad Would you to me this Phyllis show, Fair source of every fine idea, Verses and tears et cetera. Present me.”—“You are joking.”—“No.”— “Delighted.”—“When?”—“This very night. They will receive us with delight.”

III

Whilst homeward by the nearest route Our heroes at full gallop sped, Can we not stealthily make out What they in conversation said?— “How now, Onéguine, yawning still?”— “’Tis habit, Lenski.”—“Is your ill More troublesome than usual?”—“No! How dark the night is getting though! Hallo, Andriushka, onward race! The drive becomes monotonous— Well! Làrina appears to us An ancient lady full of grace.— That bilberry wine, I’m sore afraid, The deuce with my inside has played.”

IV

“Say, of the two which was Tattiana?” “She who with melancholy face And silent as the maid Svetlana(30) Hard by the window took her place.”— “The younger, you’re in love with her!” “Well!”—“I the elder should prefer, Were I like you a bard by trade— In Olga’s face no life’s displayed. ’Tis a Madonna of Vandyk, An oval countenance and pink, Yon silly moon upon the brink Of the horizon she is like!”— Vladimir something curtly said Nor further comment that night made.

[Note 30: “Svetlana,” a short poem by Joukóvski, upon which his fame mainly rests. Joukóvski was an unblushing plagiarist. Many eminent English poets have been laid under contribution by him, often without going through the form of acknowledging the source of inspiration. Even the poem in question cannot be pronounced entirely original, though its intrinsic beauty is unquestionable. It undoubtedly owes its origin to Burger’s poem “Leonora,” which has found so many English translators. Not content with a single development of Burger’s ghastly production the Russian poet has directly paraphrased “Leonora” under its own title, and also written a poem “Liudmila” in imitation of it. The principal outlines of these three poems are as follows: A maiden loses her lover in the wars; she murmurs at Providence and is vainly reproved for such blasphemy by her mother. Providence at length loses patience and sends her lover’s spirit, to all appearances as if in the flesh, who induces the unfortunate maiden to elope. Instead of riding to a church or bridal chamber the unpleasant bridegroom resorts to the graveyard and repairs to his own grave, from which he has recently issued to execute his errand. It is a repulsive subject. “Svetlana,” however, is more agreeable than its prototype “Leonora,” inasmuch as the whole catastrophe turns out a dream brought on by “sorcery,” during the “sviatki” or Holy Nights (see Canto V. st. x), and the dreamer awakes to hear the tinkling of her lover’s sledge approaching. “Svetlana” has been translated by Sir John Bowring.]

V

Meantime Onéguine’s apparition At Làrina’s abode produced Quite a sensation; the position To all good neighbours’ sport conduced. Endless conjectures all propound And secretly their views expound. What jokes and guesses now abound, A beau is for Tattiana found! In fact, some people were assured The wedding-day had been arranged, But the date subsequently changed Till proper rings could be procured. On Lenski’s matrimonial fate They long ago had held debate.

VI

Of course Tattiana was annoyed By such allusions scandalous, Yet was her inmost soul o’erjoyed With satisfaction marvellous, As in her heart the thought sank home, I am in love, my hour hath come! Thus in the earth the seed expands Obedient to warm Spring’s commands. Long time her young imagination By indolence and languor fired The fated nutriment desired; And long internal agitation Had filled her youthful breast with gloom, She waited for—I don’t know whom!

VII

The fatal hour had come at last— She oped her eyes and cried: ’tis he! Alas! for now before her passed The same warm vision constantly; Now all things round about repeat Ceaselessly to the maiden sweet His name: the tenderness of home Tiresome unto her hath become And the kind-hearted servitors: Immersed in melancholy thought, She hears of conversation nought And hated casual visitors, Their coming which no man expects, And stay whose length none recollects.

VIII

Now with what eager interest She the delicious novel reads, With what avidity and zest She drinks in those seductive deeds! All the creations which below From happy inspiration flow, The swain of Julia Wolmar, Malek Adel and De Linar,(31) Werther, rebellious martyr bold, And that unrivalled paragon, The sleep-compelling Grandison, Our tender dreamer had enrolled A single being: ’twas in fine No other than Onéguine mine.

[Note 31: The heroes of two romances much in vogue in Pushkin’s time: the former by Madame Cottin, the latter by the famous Madame Krudener. The frequent mention in the course of this poem of romances once enjoying a European celebrity but now consigned to oblivion, will impress the reader with the transitory nature of merely mediocre literary reputation. One has now to search for the very names of most of the popular authors of Pushkin’s day and rummage biographical dictionaries for the dates of their births and deaths. Yet the poet’s prime was but fifty years ago, and had he lived to a ripe old age he would have been amongst us still. He was four years younger than the late Mr. Thomas Carlyle. The decadence of Richardson’s popularity amongst his countrymen is a fact familiar to all.]

IX

Dreaming herself the heroine Of the romances she preferred, Clarissa, Julia, Delphine,—(32) Tattiana through the forest erred, And the bad book accompanies. Upon those pages she descries Her passion’s faithful counterpart, Fruit of the yearnings of the heart. She heaves a sigh and deep intent On raptures, sorrows not her own, She murmurs in an undertone A letter for her hero meant: That hero, though his merit shone, Was certainly no Grandison.

[Note 32: Referring to Richardson’s “Clarissa Harlowe,” “La Nouvelle Heloise,” and Madame de Stael’s “Delphine.”]

X

Alas! my friends, the years flit by And after them at headlong pace The evanescent fashions fly In motley and amusing chase. The world is ever altering! Farthingales, patches, were the thing, And courtier, fop, and usurer Would once in powdered wig appear; Time was, the poet’s tender quill In hopes of everlasting fame A finished madrigal would frame Or couplets more ingenious still; Time was, a valiant general might Serve who could neither read nor write.

XI

Time was, in style magniloquent Authors replete with sacred fire Their heroes used to represent All that perfection could desire; Ever by adverse fate oppressed, Their idols they were wont to invest With intellect, a taste refined, And handsome countenance combined, A heart wherein pure passion burnt; The excited hero in a trice Was ready for self-sacrifice, And in the final tome we learnt, Vice had due punishment awarded, Virtue was with a bride rewarded.

XII

But now our minds are mystified And Virtue acts as a narcotic, Vice in romance is glorified And triumphs in career erotic. The monsters of the British Muse Deprive our schoolgirls of repose, The idols of their adoration A Vampire fond of meditation, Or Melmoth, gloomy wanderer he, The Eternal Jew or the Corsair Or the mysterious Sbogar.(33) Byron’s capricious phantasy Could in romantic mantle drape E’en hopeless egoism’s dark shape.

[Note 33: “Melmoth,” a romance by Maturin, and “Jean Sbogar,” by Ch. Nodier. “The Vampire,” a tale published in 1819, was erroneously attributed to Lord Byron. “Salathiel; the Eternal Jew,” a romance by Geo. Croly.]

XIII

My friends, what means this odd digression? May be that I by heaven’s decrees Shall abdicate the bard’s profession, And shall adopt some new caprice. Thus having braved Apollo’s rage With humble prose I’ll fill my page And a romance in ancient style Shall my declining years beguile; Nor shall my pen paint terribly The torment born of crime unseen, But shall depict the touching scene Of Russian domesticity; I will descant on love’s sweet dream, The olden time shall be my theme.

XIV

Old people’s simple conversations My unpretending page shall fill, Their offspring’s innocent flirtations By the old lime-tree or the rill, Their Jealousy and separation And tears of reconciliation: Fresh cause of quarrel then I’ll find, But finally in wedlock bind. The passionate speeches I’ll repeat, Accents of rapture or despair I uttered to my lady fair Long ago, prostrate at her feet. Then they came easily enow, My tongue is somewhat rusty now.

XV

Tattiana! sweet Tattiana, see! What bitter tears with thee I shed! Thou hast resigned thy destiny Unto a ruthless tyrant dread. Thou’lt suffer, dearest, but before, Hope with her fascinating power To dire contentment shall give birth And thou shalt taste the joys of earth. Thou’lt quaff love’s sweet envenomed stream, Fantastic images shall swarm In thy imagination warm, Of happy meetings thou shalt dream, And wheresoe’er thy footsteps err, Confront thy fated torturer!

XVI

Love’s pangs Tattiana agonize. She seeks the garden in her need— Sudden she stops, casts down her eyes And cares not farther to proceed; Her bosom heaves whilst crimson hues With sudden flush her cheeks suffuse, Barely to draw her breath she seems, Her eye with fire unwonted gleams. And now ’tis night, the guardian moon Sails her allotted course on high, And from the misty woodland nigh The nightingale trills forth her tune; Restless Tattiana sleepless lay And thus unto her nurse did say:

XVII

“Nurse, ’tis so close I cannot rest. Open the window—sit by me.” “What ails thee, dear?”—“I feel depressed. Relate some ancient history.” “But which, my dear?—In days of yore Within my memory I bore Many an ancient legend which In monsters and fair dames was rich; But now my mind is desolate, What once I knew is clean forgot— Alas! how wretched now my lot!” “But tell me, nurse, can you relate The days which to your youth belong? Were you in love when you were young?”—

XVIII

“Alack! Tattiana,” she replied, “We never loved in days of old, My mother-in-law who lately died(34) Had killed me had the like been told.” “How came you then to wed a man?”— “Why, as God ordered! My Ivan Was younger than myself, my light, For I myself was thirteen quite;(35) The matchmaker a fortnight sped, Her suit before my parents pressing: At last my father gave his blessing, And bitter tears of fright I shed. Weeping they loosed my tresses long(36) And led me off to church with song.”

[Note 34: A young married couple amongst Russian peasants reside in the house of the bridegroom’s father till the “tiaglo,” or family circle is broken up by his death.]

[Note 35: Marriages amongst Russian serfs used formerly to take place at ridiculously early ages. Haxthausen asserts that strong hearty peasant women were to be seen at work in the fields with their infant husbands in their arms. The inducement lay in the fact that the “tiaglo” (see previous note) received an additional lot of the communal land for every male added to its number, though this could have formed an inducement in the southern and fertile provinces of Russia only, as it is believed that agriculture in the north is so unremunerative that land has often to be forced upon the peasants, in order that the taxes, for which the whole Commune is responsible to Government, may be paid. The abuse of early marriages was regulated by Tsar Nicholas.]

[Note 36: Courtships were not unfrequently carried on in the larger villages, which alone could support such an individual, by means of a “svakha,” or matchmaker. In Russia unmarried girls wear their hair in a single long plait or tail, “kossa;” the married women, on the other hand, in two, which are twisted into the head-gear.]

XIX

“Then amongst strangers I was left— But I perceive thou dost not heed—” “Alas! dear nurse, my heart is cleft, Mortally sick I am indeed. Behold, my sobs I scarce restrain—” “My darling child, thou art in pain.— The Lord deliver her and save! Tell me at once what wilt thou have? I’ll sprinkle thee with holy water.— How thy hands burn!”—“Dear nurse, I’m well. I am—in love—you know—don’t tell!” “The Lord be with thee, O my daughter!”— And the old nurse a brief prayer said And crossed with trembling hand the maid.

XX

“I am in love,” her whispers tell The aged woman in her woe: “My heart’s delight, thou art not well.”— “I am in love, nurse! leave me now.” Behold! the moon was shining bright And showed with an uncertain light Tattiana’s beauty, pale with care, Her tears and her dishevelled hair; And on the footstool sitting down Beside our youthful heroine fair, A kerchief round her silver hair The aged nurse in ample gown,(37) Whilst all creation seemed to dream Enchanted by the moon’s pale beam.

[Note 37: It is thus that I am compelled to render a female garment not known, so far as I am aware, to Western Europe. It is called by the natives “doushegreika,” that is to say, “warmer of the soul”—in French, chaufferette de l’âme. It is a species of thick pelisse worn over the “sarafan,” or gown.]

XXI

But borne in spirit far away Tattiana gazes on the moon, And starting suddenly doth say: “Nurse, leave me. I would be alone. Pen, paper bring: the table too Draw near. I soon to sleep shall go— Good-night.” Behold! she is alone! ’Tis silent—on her shines the moon— Upon her elbow she reclines, And Eugene ever in her soul Indites an inconsiderate scroll Wherein love innocently pines. Now it is ready to be sent— For whom, Tattiana, is it meant?

XXII

I have known beauties cold and raw As Winter in their purity, Striking the intellect with awe By dull insensibility, And I admired their common sense And natural benevolence, But, I acknowledge, from them fled; For on their brows I trembling read The inscription o’er the gates of Hell “Abandon hope for ever here!”(38) Love to inspire doth woe appear To such—delightful to repel. Perchance upon the Neva e’en Similar dames ye may have seen.

[Note 38: A Russian annotator complains that the poet has mutilated Dante’s famous line.]

XXIII

Amid submissive herds of men Virgins miraculous I see, Who selfishly unmoved remain Alike by sighs and flattery. But what astonished do I find When harsh demeanour hath consigned A timid love to banishment?— On fresh allurements they are bent, At least by show of sympathy; At least their accents and their words Appear attuned to softer chords; And then with blind credulity The youthful lover once again Pursues phantasmagoria vain.

XXIV

Why is Tattiana guiltier deemed?— Because in singleness of thought She never of deception dreamed But trusted the ideal she wrought?— Because her passion wanted art, Obeyed the impulses of heart?— Because she was so innocent, That Heaven her character had blent With an imagination wild, With intellect and strong volition And a determined disposition, An ardent heart and yet so mild?— Doth love’s incautiousness in her So irremissible appear?

XXV

O ye whom tender love hath pained Without the ken of parents both, Whose hearts responsive have remained To the impressions of our youth, The all-entrancing joys of love— Young ladies, if ye ever strove The mystic lines to tear away A lover’s letter might convey, Or into bold hands anxiously Have e’er a precious tress consigned, Or even, silent and resigned, When separation’s hour drew nigh, Have felt love’s agitated kiss With tears, confused emotions, bliss,—

XXVI

With unanimity complete, Condemn not weak Tattiana mine; Do not cold-bloodedly repeat The sneers of critics superfine; And you, O maids immaculate, Whom vice, if named, doth agitate E’en as the presence of a snake, I the same admonition make. Who knows? with love’s consuming flame Perchance you also soon may burn, Then to some gallant in your turn Will be ascribed by treacherous Fame The triumph of a conquest new. The God of Love is after you!

XXVII

A coquette loves by calculation, Tattiana’s love was quite sincere, A love which knew no limitation, Even as the love of children dear. She did not think “procrastination Enhances love in estimation And thus secures the prey we seek. His vanity first let us pique With hope and then perplexity, Excruciate the heart and late With jealous fire resuscitate, Lest jaded with satiety, The artful prisoner should seek Incessantly his chains to break.”

XXVIII

I still a complication view, My country’s honour and repute Demands that I translate for you The letter which Tattiana wrote. At Russ she was by no means clever And read our newspapers scarce ever, And in her native language she Possessed nor ease nor fluency, So she in French herself expressed. I cannot help it I declare, Though hitherto a lady ne’er In Russ her love made manifest, And never hath our language proud In correspondence been allowed.(39)

[Note 39: It is well known that until the reign of the late Tsar French was the language of the Russian court and of Russian fashionable society. It should be borne in mind that at the time this poem was written literary warfare more or less open was being waged between two hostile schools of Russian men of letters. These consisted of the _Arzamass_, or French school, to which Pushkin himself together with his uncle Vassili Pushkin the “Nestor of the Arzamass” belonged, and their opponents who devoted themselves to the cultivation of the vernacular.]

XXIX

They wish that ladies should, I hear, Learn Russian, but the Lord defend! I can’t conceive a little dear With the “Well-Wisher” in her hand!(40) I ask, all ye who poets are, Is it not true? the objects fair, To whom ye for unnumbered crimes Had to compose in secret rhymes, To whom your hearts were consecrate,— Did they not all the Russian tongue With little knowledge and that wrong In charming fashion mutilate? Did not their lips with foreign speech The native Russian tongue impeach?

[Note 40: The “Blago-Namièrenni,” or “Well-Wisher,” was an inferior Russian newspaper of the day, much scoffed at by contemporaries. The editor once excused himself for some gross error by pleading that he had been “on the loose.”]

XXX