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diff --git a/23997.txt b/23997.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..dac034c --- /dev/null +++ b/23997.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8053 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Eugene Oneguine [Onegin], by Aleksandr +Sergeevich Pushkin, Translated by Henry Spalding + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Eugene Oneguine [Onegin] + A Romance of Russian Life in Verse + + +Author: Aleksandr Sergeevich Pushkin + + + +Release Date: December 27, 2007 [eBook #23997] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EUGENE ONEGUINE [ONEGIN]*** + + +E-text prepared by Stephen Leary <www.stephenleary.com> + + + +EUGENE ONEGUINE [Onegin]: + +A Romance of Russian Life in Verse + +by + +ALEXANDER PUSHKIN + +Translated from the Russian by Lieut.-Col. [Henry] Spalding + + + + + + + +London +Macmillan and Co. +1881 + + + + +PREFACE + +Eugene Oneguine, the chief poetical work of Russia's greatest poet, +having been translated into all the principal languages of Europe +except our own, I hope that this version may prove an acceptable +contribution to literature. Tastes are various in matters of poetry, +but the present work possesses a more solid claim to attention in +the series of faithful pictures it offers of Russian life and manners. +If these be compared with Mr. Wallace's book on Russia, it will be +seen that social life in that empire still preserves many of the +characteristics which distinguished it half a century ago--the period +of the first publication of the latter cantos of this poem. + +Many references will be found in it to our own country and its +literature. Russian poets have carefully plagiarized the English-- +notably Joukovski. Pushkin, however, was no plagiarist, though +undoubtedly his mind was greatly influenced by the genius of Byron-- +more especially in the earliest part of his career. Indeed, as will +be remarked in the following pages, he scarcely makes an effort to +disguise this fact. + +The biographical sketch is of course a mere outline. I did not think +a longer one advisable, as memoirs do not usually excite much interest +till the subjects of them are pretty well known. In the "notes" I +have endeavored to elucidate a somewhat obscure subject. Some of the +poet's allusions remain enigmatical to the present day. The point of +each sarcasm naturally passed out of mind together with the society +against which it was levelled. If some of the versification is rough +and wanting in "go," I must plead in excuse the difficult form of the +stanza, and in many instances the inelastic nature of the subject +matter to be versified. Stanza XXXV Canto II forms a good example +of the latter difficulty, and is omitted in the German and French +versions to which I have had access. The translation of foreign +verse is comparatively easy so long as it is confined to conventional +poetic subjects, but when it embraces abrupt scraps of conversation +and the description of local customs it becomes a much more arduous +affair. I think I may say that I have adhered closely to the text +of the original. + +The following foreign translations of this poem have appeared: + +1. French prose. Oeuvres choisis de Pouchekine. H. Dupont. Paris, +1847. + +2. German verse. A. Puschkin's poetische Werke. F. Bodenstedt. +Berlin, 1854. + +3. Polish verse. Eugeniusz Oniegin. Roman Aleksandra Puszkina. +A. Sikorski. Vilnius, 1847. + +4. Italian prose. Racconti poetici di A. Puschkin, tradotti da +A. Delatre. Firenze, 1856. + +London, May 1881. + + + + +CONTENTS + + Mon Portrait + A Short Biographical Notice of Alexander Pushkin + Eugene Oneguine + Canto I: "The Spleen" + Canto II: The Poet + Canto III: The Country Damsel + Canto IV: Rural Life + Canto V: The Fete + Canto VI: The Duel + Canto VII: Moscow + Canto VIII: The Great World + + + + +Mon Portrait + +Written by the poet at the age of 15. + +Vous me demandez mon portrait, +Mais peint d'apres nature: +Mon cher, il sera bientot fait, +Quoique en miniature. + +Je suis un jeune polisson +Encore dans les classes; +Point sot, je le dis sans facon, +Et sans fades grimaces. + +Oui! il ne fut babillard +Ni docteur de Sorbonne, +Plus ennuyeux et plus braillard +Que moi-meme en personne. + +Ma taille, a celle des plus longs, +Elle n'est point egalee; +J'ai le teint frais, les cheveux blonds, +Et la tete bouclee. + +J'aime et le monde et son fracas, +Je hais la solitude; +J'abhorre et noises et debats, +Et tant soit peu l'etude. + +Spectacles, bals, me plaisent fort, +Et d'apres ma pensee, +Je dirais ce que j'aime encore, +Si je n'etais au Lycee. + +Apres cela, mon cher ami, +L'on peut me reconnaitre, +Oui! tel que le bon Dieu me fit, +Je veux toujours paraitre. + +Vrai demon, par l'espieglerie, +Vrai singe par sa mine, +Beaucoup et trop d'etourderie, +Ma foi! voila Pouchekine. + + + +Note: Russian proper names to be pronounced as in French (the nasal +sound of m and n excepted) in the following translation. The accent, +which is very arbitrary in the Russian language, is indicated +unmistakably in a rhythmical composition. + + + + +A Short Biographical Notice of Alexander Pushkin. + +Alexander Sergevitch Pushkin was born in 1799 at Pskoff, and was +a scion of an ancient Russian family. In one of his letters it is +recorded that no less than six Pushkins signed the Charta declaratory +of the election of the Romanoff family to the throne of Russia, and +that two more affixed their marks from inability to write. + +In 1811 he entered the Lyceum, an aristocratic educational +establishment at Tsarskoe Selo, near St. Petersburg, where he was +the friend and schoolmate of Prince Gortchakoff the Russian +Chancellor. As a scholar he displayed no remarkable amount of +capacity, but was fond of general reading and much given to +versification. Whilst yet a schoolboy he wrote many lyrical +compositions and commenced _Ruslan and Liudmila_, his first poem +of any magnitude, and, it is asserted, the first readable one ever +produced in the Russian language. During his boyhood he came much +into contact with the poets Dmitrieff and Joukovski, who were +intimate with his father, and his uncle, Vassili Pushkin, himself +an author of no mean repute. The friendship of the historian +Karamzine must have exercised a still more beneficial influence +upon him. + +In 1817 he quitted the Lyceum and obtained an appointment in the +Foreign Office at St. Petersburg. Three years of reckless +dissipation in the capital, where his lyrical talent made him +universally popular, resulted in 1818 in a putrid fever which +was near carrying him off. At this period of his life he scarcely +slept at all; worked all day and dissipated at night. Society was +open to him from the palace of the prince to the officers' +quarters of the Imperial Guard. The reflection of this mode of +life may be noted in the first canto of _Eugene Oneguine_ and the +early dissipations of the "Philosopher just turned eighteen,"-- +the exact age of Pushkin when he commenced his career in the +Russian capital. + +In 1820 he was transferred to the bureau of Lieutenant-General +Inzoff, at Kishineff in Bessarabia. This event was probably due +to his composing and privately circulating an "Ode to Liberty," +though the attendant circumstances have never yet been thoroughly +brought to light. An indiscreet admiration for Byron most likely +involved the young poet in this scrape. The tenor of this +production, especially its audacious allusion to the murder of +the emperor Paul, father of the then reigning Tsar, assuredly +deserved, according to aristocratic ideas, the deportation to +Siberia which was said to have been prepared for the author. +The intercession of Karamzine and Joukovski procured a commutation +of his sentence. Strangely enough, Pushkin appeared anxious to +deceive the public as to the real cause of his sudden disappearance +from the capital; for in an Ode to Ovid composed about this time +he styles himself a "voluntary exile." (See Note 4 to this volume.) + +During the four succeeding years he made numerous excursions amid +the beautiful countries which from the basin of the Euxine--and +amongst these the Crimea and the Caucasus. A nomad life passed +amid the beauties of nature acted powerfully in developing his +poetical genius. To this period he refers in the final canto of +_Eugene Oneguine_ (st. v.), when enumerating the various influences +which had contributed to the formation of his Muse: + + Then, the far capital forgot, + Its splendour and its blandishments, + In poor Moldavia cast her lot, + She visited the humble tents + Of migratory gipsy hordes. + +During these pleasant years of youth he penned some of his most +delightful poetical works: amongst these, _The Prisoner of the +Caucasus, The Fountain of Baktchiserai_, and the _Gipsies_. Of the +two former it may be said that they are in the true style of the +_Giaour_ and the _Corsair_. In fact, just at that point of time +Byron's fame--like the setting sun--shone out with dazzling lustre +and irresistibly charmed the mind of Pushkin amongst many others. +The _Gipsies_ is more original; indeed the poet himself has been +identified with Aleko, the hero of the tale, which may well be +founded on his own personal adventures without involving the guilt +of a double murder. His undisguised admiration for Byron doubtless +exposed him to imputations similar to those commonly levelled +against that poet. But Pushkin's talent was too genuine for him to +remain long subservient to that of another, and in a later period +of his career he broke loose from all trammels and selected a line +peculiarly his own. Before leaving this stage in our narrative we +may point out the fact that during the whole of this period of +comparative seclusion the poet was indefatigably occupied in +study. Not only were the standard works of European literature +perused, but two more languages--namely Italian and Spanish--were +added to his original stock: French, English, Latin and German +having been acquired at the Lyceum. To this happy union of +literary research with the study of nature we must attribute the +sudden bound by which he soon afterwards attained the pinnacle of +poetic fame amongst his own countrymen. + +In 1824 he once more fell under the imperial displeasure. A letter +seized in the post, and expressive of atheistical sentiments +(possibly but a transient vagary of his youth) was the ostensible +cause of his banishment from Odessa to his paternal estate of +Mikhailovskoe in the province of Pskoff. Some, however, aver that +personal pique on the part of Count Vorontsoff, the Governor of +Odessa, played a part in the transaction. Be this as it may, the +consequences were serious for the poet, who was not only placed +under the surveillance of the police, but expelled from the +Foreign Office by express order of the Tsar "for bad conduct." A +letter on this subject, addressed by Count Vorontsoff to Count +Nesselrode, is an amusing instance of the arrogance with which +stolid mediocrity frequently passes judgment on rising genius. I +transcribe a portion thereof: + + + Odessa, _28th March (7th April)_ 1824 + +Count--Your Excellency is aware of the reasons for which, some +time ago, young Pushkin was sent with a letter from Count Capo +d'Istria to General Inzoff. I found him already here when I +arrived, the General having placed him at my disposal, though he +himself was at Kishineff. I have no reason to complain about him. +On the contrary, he is much steadier than formerly. But a desire +for the welfare of the young man himself, who is not wanting in +ability, and whose faults proceed more from the head than from +the heart, impels me to urge upon you his removal from Odessa. +Pushkin's chief failing is ambition. He spent the bathing season +here, and has gathered round him a crowd of adulators who praise +his genius. This maintains in him a baneful delusion which seems +to turn his head--namely, that he is a "distinguished writer;" +whereas, in reality he is but a feeble imitator of an author in +whose favour very little can be said (Byron). This it is which +keeps him from a serious study of the great classical poets, which +might exercise a beneficial effect upon his talents--which cannot +be denied him--and which might make of him in course of time a +"distinguished writer." + +The best thing that can be done for him is to remove him hence.... + +The Emperor Nicholas on his accession pardoned Pushkin and received +him once more into favour. During an interview which took place it +is said that the Tsar promised the poet that he alone would in +future be the censor of his productions. Pushkin was restored to +his position in the Foreign Office and received the appointment of +Court Historian. In 1828 he published one of his finest poems, +_Poltava_, which is founded on incidents familiar to English +readers in Byron's _Mazeppa_. In 1829 the hardy poet accompanied +the Russian army which under Paskevitch captured Erzeroum. In 1831 +he married a beautiful lady of the Gontchareff family and settled +in the neighbourhood of St. Petersburg, where he remained for the +remainder of his life, only occasionally visiting Moscow and +Mikhailovskoe. During this period his chief occupation consisted +in collecting and investigating materials for a projected history +of Peter the Great, which was undertaken at the express desire of +the Emperor. He likewise completed a history of the revolt of +Pougatchoff, which occurred in the reign of Catherine II. [Note: +this individual having personated Peter III, the deceased husband +of the Empress, raised the Orenburg Cossacks in revolt. This revolt +was not suppressed without extensive destruction of life and +property.] In 1833 the poet visited Orenburg, the scene of the +dreadful excesses he recorded; the fruit of his journey being one +of the most charming tales ever written, _The Captain's Daughter_. +[Note: Translated in _Russian Romance_, by Mrs. Telfer, 1875.] + +The remaining years of Pushkin's life, spent in the midst of +domestic bliss and grateful literary occupation, were what +lookers-on style "years of unclouded happiness." They were, +however, drawing rapidly to a close. Unrivalled distinction rarely +fails to arouse bitter animosity amongst the envious, and Pushkin's +existence had latterly been embittered by groundless insinuations +against his wife's reputation in the shape of anonymous letters +addressed to himself and couched in very insulting language. He +fancied he had traced them to one Georges d'Anthes, a Frenchman +in the Cavalier Guard, who had been adopted by the Dutch envoy +Heeckeren. D'Anthes, though he had espoused Madame Pushkin's +sister, had conducted himself with impropriety towards the former +lady. The poet displayed in this affair a fierce hostility quite +characteristic of his African origin but which drove him to his +destruction. D'Anthes, it was subsequently admitted, was not the +author of the anonymous letters; but as usual when a duel is +proposed, an appeal to reason was thought to smack of cowardice. +The encounter took place in February 1837 on one of the islands of +the Neva. The weapons used were pistols, and the combat was of a +determined, nay ferocious character. Pushkin was shot before he +had time to fire, and, in his fall, the barrel of his pistol +became clogged with snow which lay deep upon the ground at the +time. Raising himself on his elbow, the wounded man called for +another pistol, crying, "I've strength left to fire my shot!" He +fired, and slightly wounded his opponent, shouting "Bravo!" when +he heard him exclaim that he was hit. D'Anthes was, however, but +slightly contused whilst Pushkin was shot through the abdomen. He +was transported to his residence and expired after several days +passed in extreme agony. Thus perished in the thirty-eighth year of +his age this distinguished poet, in a manner and amid surroundings +which make the duel scene in the sixth canto of this poem seem +almost prophetic. His reflections on the premature death of Lenski +appear indeed strangely applicable to his own fate, as generally +to the premature extinction of genius. + +Pushkin was endowed with a powerful physical organisation. He was +fond of long walks, unlike the generality of his countrymen, and +at one time of his career used daily to foot it into St. Petersburg +and back, from his residence in the suburbs, to conduct his +investigations in the Government archives when employed on the +History of Peter the Great. He was a good swordsman, rode well, +and at one time aspired to enter the cavalry; but his father not +being able to furnish the necessary funds he declined serving in +the less romantic infantry. Latterly he was regular in his habits; +rose early, retired late, and managed to get along with but very +little sleep. On rising he betook himself forthwith to his literary +occupations, which were continued till afternoon, when they gave +place to physical exercise. Strange as it will appear to many, he +preferred the autumn months, especially when rainy, chill and +misty, for the production of his literary compositions, and was +proportionally depressed by the approach of spring. (Cf. Canto +VII st. ii.) + + Mournful is thine approach to me, + O Spring, thou chosen time of love + +He usually left St. Petersburg about the middle of September and +remained in the country till December. In this space of time it was +his custom to develop and perfect the inspirations of the +remaining portion of the year. He was of an impetuous yet +affectionate nature and much beloved by a numerous circle of +friends. An attractive feature in his character was his unalterable +attachment to his aged nurse, a sentiment which we find reflected +in the pages of _Eugene Oneguine_ and elsewhere. + +The preponderating influence which Byron exercised in the formation +of his genius has already been noticed. It is indeed probable that +we owe _Oneguine_ to the combined impressions of _Childe Harold_ and +_Don Juan_ upon his mind. Yet the Russian poem excels these +masterpieces of Byron in a single particular--namely, in completeness +of narrative, the plots of the latter being mere vehicles for the +development of the poet's general reflections. There is ground for +believing that Pushkin likewise made this poem the record of his +own experience. This has doubtless been the practice of many +distinguished authors of fiction whose names will readily occur to +the reader. Indeed, as we are never cognizant of the real motives +which actuate others, it follows that nowhere can the secret springs +of human action be studied to such advantage as within our own +breasts. Thus romance is sometimes but the reflection of the writer's +own individuality, and he adopts the counsel of the American poet: + + Look then into thine heart and write! + +But a further consideration of this subject would here be out of +place. Perhaps I cannot more suitably conclude this sketch than by +quoting from his _Ode to the Sea_ the poet's tribute of admiration +to the genius of Napoleon and Byron, who of all contemporaries seem +the most to have swayed his imagination. + + Farewell, thou pathway of the free, + For the last time thy waves I view + Before me roll disdainfully, + Brilliantly beautiful and blue. + + Why vain regret? Wherever now + My heedless course I may pursue + One object on thy desert brow + I everlastingly shall view-- + + A rock, the sepulchre of Fame! + The poor remains of greatness gone + A cold remembrance there became, + There perished great Napoleon. + + In torment dire to sleep he lay; + Then, as a tempest echoing rolls, + Another genius whirled away, + Another sovereign of our souls. + + He perished. Freedom wept her child, + He left the world his garland bright. + Wail, Ocean, surge in tumult wild, + To sing of thee was his delight. + + Impressed upon him was thy mark, + His genius moulded was by thee; + Like thee, he was unfathomed, dark + And untamed in his majesty. + +Note: It may interest some to know that Georges d'Anthes was tried +by court-martial for his participation in the duel in which Pushkin +fell, found guilty, and reduced to the ranks; but, not being a +Russian subject, he was conducted by a gendarme across the frontier +and then set at liberty. + + + + +Eugene Oneguine + +Petri de vanite, il avait encore plus de cette espece d'orgueil, qui +fait avouer avec la meme indifference les bonnes comme les mauvaises +actions, suite d'un sentiment de superiorite, peut-etre imaginaire.-- +_Tire d'une lettre particuliere_. + + +[Note: Written in 1823 at Kishineff and Odessa.] + + + +CANTO THE FIRST + +'The Spleen' + +'He rushes at life and exhausts the passions.' + Prince Viazemski + + +Canto the First + +I + +"My uncle's goodness is extreme, +If seriously he hath disease; +He hath acquired the world's esteem +And nothing more important sees; +A paragon of virtue he! +But what a nuisance it will be, +Chained to his bedside night and day +Without a chance to slip away. +Ye need dissimulation base +A dying man with art to soothe, +Beneath his head the pillow smooth, +And physic bring with mournful face, +To sigh and meditate alone: +When will the devil take his own!" + +II + +Thus mused a madcap young, who drove +Through clouds of dust at postal pace, +By the decree of Mighty Jove, +Inheritor of all his race. +Friends of Liudmila and Ruslan,(1) +Let me present ye to the man, +Who without more prevarication +The hero is of my narration! +Oneguine, O my gentle readers, +Was born beside the Neva, where +It may be ye were born, or there +Have shone as one of fashion's leaders. +I also wandered there of old, +But cannot stand the northern cold.(2) + +[Note 1: _Ruslan and Liudmila_, the title of Pushkin's first +important work, written 1817-20. It is a tale relating the adventures +of the knight-errant Ruslan in search of his fair lady Liudmila, who +has been carried off by a _kaldoon_, or magician.] + +[Note 2: Written in Bessarabia.] + +III + +Having performed his service truly, +Deep into debt his father ran; +Three balls a year he gave ye duly, +At last became a ruined man. +But Eugene was by fate preserved, +For first "madame" his wants observed, +And then "monsieur" supplied her place;(3) +The boy was wild but full of grace. +"Monsieur l'Abbe," a starving Gaul, +Fearing his pupil to annoy, +Instructed jestingly the boy, +Morality taught scarce at all; +Gently for pranks he would reprove +And in the Summer Garden rove. + +[Note 3: In Russia foreign tutors and governesses are commonly +styled "monsieur" or "madame."] + +IV + +When youth's rebellious hour drew near +And my Eugene the path must trace-- +The path of hope and tender fear-- +Monsieur clean out of doors they chase. +Lo! my Oneguine free as air, +Cropped in the latest style his hair, +Dressed like a London dandy he +The giddy world at last shall see. +He wrote and spoke, so all allowed, +In the French language perfectly, +Danced the mazurka gracefully, +Without the least constraint he bowed. +What more's required? The world replies, +He is a charming youth and wise. + +V + +We all of us of education +A something somehow have obtained, +Thus, praised be God! a reputation +With us is easily attained. +Oneguine was--so many deemed +[Unerring critics self-esteemed], +Pedantic although scholar like, +In truth he had the happy trick +Without constraint in conversation +Of touching lightly every theme. +Silent, oracular ye'd see him +Amid a serious disputation, +Then suddenly discharge a joke +The ladies' laughter to provoke. + +VI + +Latin is just now not in vogue, +But if the truth I must relate, +Oneguine knew enough, the rogue +A mild quotation to translate, +A little Juvenal to spout, +With "vale" finish off a note; +Two verses he could recollect +Of the Aeneid, but incorrect. +In history he took no pleasure, +The dusty chronicles of earth +For him were but of little worth, +Yet still of anecdotes a treasure +Within his memory there lay, +From Romulus unto our day. + +VII + +For empty sound the rascal swore he +Existence would not make a curse, +Knew not an iamb from a choree, +Although we read him heaps of verse. +Homer, Theocritus, he jeered, +But Adam Smith to read appeared, +And at economy was great; +That is, he could elucidate +How empires store of wealth unfold, +How flourish, why and wherefore less +If the raw product they possess +The medium is required of gold. +The father scarcely understands +His son and mortgages his lands. + +VIII + +But upon all that Eugene knew +I have no leisure here to dwell, +But say he was a genius who +In one thing really did excel. +It occupied him from a boy, +A labour, torment, yet a joy, +It whiled his idle hours away +And wholly occupied his day-- +The amatory science warm, +Which Ovid once immortalized, +For which the poet agonized +Laid down his life of sun and storm +On the steppes of Moldavia lone, +Far from his Italy--his own.(4) + +[Note 4: Referring to Tomi, the reputed place of exile of Ovid. +Pushkin, then residing in Bessarabia, was in the same predicament +as his predecessor in song, though he certainly did not plead +guilty to the fact, since he remarks in his ode to Ovid: + To exile _self-consigned_, + With self, society, existence, discontent, + I visit in these days, with melancholy mind, + The country whereunto a mournful age thee sent. + +Ovid thus enumerates the causes which brought about his banishment: + + "Perdiderint quum me _duo_ crimina, carmen et error, + Alterius facti culpa silenda mihi est." + _Ovidii Nasonis Tristium_, lib. ii. 207.] + + +IX + +How soon he learnt deception's art, +Hope to conceal and jealousy, +False confidence or doubt to impart, +Sombre or glad in turn to be, +Haughty appear, subservient, +Obsequious or indifferent! +What languor would his silence show, +How full of fire his speech would glow! +How artless was the note which spoke +Of love again, and yet again; +How deftly could he transport feign! +How bright and tender was his look, +Modest yet daring! And a tear +Would at the proper time appear. + +X + +How well he played the greenhorn's part +To cheat the inexperienced fair, +Sometimes by pleasing flattery's art, +Sometimes by ready-made despair; +The feeble moment would espy +Of tender years the modesty +Conquer by passion and address, +Await the long-delayed caress. +Avowal then 'twas time to pray, +Attentive to the heart's first beating, +Follow up love--a secret meeting +Arrange without the least delay-- +Then, then--well, in some solitude +Lessons to give he understood! + +XI + +How soon he learnt to titillate +The heart of the inveterate flirt! +Desirous to annihilate +His own antagonists expert, +How bitterly he would malign, +With many a snare their pathway line! +But ye, O happy husbands, ye +With him were friends eternally: +The crafty spouse caressed him, who +By Faublas in his youth was schooled,(5) +And the suspicious veteran old, +The pompous, swaggering cuckold too, +Who floats contentedly through life, +Proud of his dinners and his wife! + +[Note 5: _Les Aventures du Chevalier de Faublas_, a romance of a +loose character by Jean Baptiste Louvet de Couvray, b. 1760, +d. 1797, famous for his bold oration denouncing Robespierre, +Marat and Danton.] + +XII + +One morn whilst yet in bed he lay, +His valet brings him letters three. +What, invitations? The same day +As many entertainments be! +A ball here, there a children's treat, +Whither shall my rapscallion flit? +Whither shall he go first? He'll see, +Perchance he will to all the three. +Meantime in matutinal dress +And hat surnamed a "Bolivar"(6) +He hies unto the "Boulevard," +To loiter there in idleness +Until the sleepless Breguet chime(7) +Announcing to him dinner-time. + +[Note 6: A la "Bolivar," from the founder of Bolivian independence.] + +[Note 7: M. Breguet, a celebrated Parisian watchmaker--hence a +slang term for a watch.] + +XIII + +'Tis dark. He seats him in a sleigh, +"Drive on!" the cheerful cry goes forth, +His furs are powdered on the way +By the fine silver of the north. +He bends his course to Talon's, where(8) +He knows Kaverine will repair.(9) +He enters. High the cork arose +And Comet champagne foaming flows. +Before him red roast beef is seen +And truffles, dear to youthful eyes, +Flanked by immortal Strasbourg pies, +The choicest flowers of French cuisine, +And Limburg cheese alive and old +Is seen next pine-apples of gold. + +[Note 8: Talon, a famous St. Petersburg restaurateur.] + +[Note 9: Paul Petrovitch Kaverine, a friend for whom Pushkin in +his youth appears to have entertained great respect and +admiration. He was an officer in the Hussars of the Guard, and +a noted "dandy" and man about town. The poet on one occasion +addressed the following impromptu to his friend's portrait: + + "Within him daily see the the fires of punch and war, + Upon the fields of Mars a gallant warrior, + A faithful friend to friends, of ladies torturer, + But ever the Hussar."] + +XIV + +Still thirst fresh draughts of wine compels +To cool the cutlets' seething grease, +When the sonorous Breguet tells +Of the commencement of the piece. +A critic of the stage malicious, +A slave of actresses capricious, +Oneguine was a citizen +Of the domains of the side-scene. +To the theatre he repairs +Where each young critic ready stands, +Capers applauds with clap of hands, +With hisses Cleopatra scares, +Moina recalls for this alone +That all may hear his voice's tone. + +XV + +Thou fairy-land! Where formerly +Shone pungent Satire's dauntless king, +Von Wisine, friend of liberty, +And Kniajnine, apt at copying. +The young Simeonova too there +With Ozeroff was wont to share +Applause, the people's donative. +There our Katenine did revive +Corneille's majestic genius, +Sarcastic Shakhovskoi brought out +His comedies, a noisy rout, +There Didelot became glorious, +There, there, beneath the side-scene's shade +The drama of my youth was played.(10) + +[Note 10: _Denis Von Wisine_ (1741-92), a favourite Russian +dramatist. His first comedy "The Brigadier," procured him the +favour of the second Catherine. His best, however, is the +"Minor" (Niedorosl). Prince Potemkin, after witnessing it, +summoned the author, and greeted him with the exclamation, +"Die now, Denis!" In fact, his subsequent performances were +not of equal merit. + +_Jacob Borissovitch Kniajnine_ (1742-91), a clever adapter of +French tragedy. + +_Simeonova_, a celebrated tragic actress, who retired from +the stage in early life and married a Prince Gagarine. + +_Ozeroff_, one of the best-known Russian dramatists of the +period; he possessed more originality than Kniajnine. "Oedipus +in Athens," "Fingal," "Demetrius Donskoi," and "Polyxena," are +the best known of his tragedies. + +_Katenine_ translated Corneille's tragedies into Russian. + +_Didelot_, sometime Director of the ballet at the Opera at +St. Petersburg.] + +XVI + +My goddesses, where are your shades? +Do ye not hear my mournful sighs? +Are ye replaced by other maids +Who cannot conjure former joys? +Shall I your chorus hear anew, +Russia's Terpsichore review +Again in her ethereal dance? +Or will my melancholy glance +On the dull stage find all things changed, +The disenchanted glass direct +Where I can no more recollect?-- +A careless looker-on estranged +In silence shall I sit and yawn +And dream of life's delightful dawn? + +XVII + +The house is crammed. A thousand lamps +On pit, stalls, boxes, brightly blaze, +Impatiently the gallery stamps, +The curtain now they slowly raise. +Obedient to the magic strings, +Brilliant, ethereal, there springs +Forth from the crowd of nymphs surrounding +Istomina(*) the nimbly-bounding; +With one foot resting on its tip +Slow circling round its fellow swings +And now she skips and now she springs +Like down from Aeolus's lip, +Now her lithe form she arches o'er +And beats with rapid foot the floor. + +[Note: Istomina--A celebrated Circassian dancer of the day, with +whom the poet in his extreme youth imagined himself in love.] + +XVIII + +Shouts of applause! Oneguine passes +Between the stalls, along the toes; +Seated, a curious look with glasses +On unknown female forms he throws. +Free scope he yields unto his glance, +Reviews both dress and countenance, +With all dissatisfaction shows. +To male acquaintances he bows, +And finally he deigns let fall +Upon the stage his weary glance. +He yawns, averts his countenance, +Exclaiming, "We must change 'em all! +I long by ballets have been bored, +Now Didelot scarce can be endured!" + +XIX + +Snakes, satyrs, loves with many a shout +Across the stage still madly sweep, +Whilst the tired serving-men without +Wrapped in their sheepskins soundly sleep. +Still the loud stamping doth not cease, +Still they blow noses, cough, and sneeze, +Still everywhere, without, within, +The lamps illuminating shine; +The steed benumbed still pawing stands +And of the irksome harness tires, +And still the coachmen round the fires(11) +Abuse their masters, rub their hands: +But Eugene long hath left the press +To array himself in evening dress. + +[Note 11: In Russia large fires are lighted in winter time in front +of the theatres for the benefit of the menials, who, considering +the state of the thermometer, cannot be said to have a jovial +time of it. But in this, as in other cases, "habit" alleviates +their lot, and they bear the cold with a wonderful equanimity.] + +XX + +Faithfully shall I now depict, +Portray the solitary den +Wherein the child of fashion strict +Dressed him, undressed, and dressed again? +All that industrial London brings +For tallow, wood and other things +Across the Baltic's salt sea waves, +All which caprice and affluence craves, +All which in Paris eager taste, +Choosing a profitable trade, +For our amusement ever made +And ease and fashionable waste,-- +Adorned the apartment of Eugene, +Philosopher just turned eighteen. + +XXI + +China and bronze the tables weight, +Amber on pipes from Stamboul glows, +And, joy of souls effeminate, +Phials of crystal scents enclose. +Combs of all sizes, files of steel, +Scissors both straight and curved as well, +Of thirty different sorts, lo! brushes +Both for the nails and for the tushes. +Rousseau, I would remark in passing,(12) +Could not conceive how serious Grimm +Dared calmly cleanse his nails 'fore him, +Eloquent raver all-surpassing,-- +The friend of liberty and laws +In this case quite mistaken was. + +[Note 12: "Tout le monde sut qu'il (Grimm) mettait du blanc; et +moi, qui n'en croyait rien, je commencai de le croire, non +seulement par l'embellissement de son teint, et pour avoir trouve +des tasses de blanc sur la toilette, mais sur ce qu'entrant un +matin dans sa chambre, je le trouvais brossant ses ongles avec +une petite vergette faite expres, ouvrage qu'il continua fierement +devant moi. Je jugeai qu'un homme qui passe deux heures tous les +matins a brosser ses ongles peut bien passer quelques instants a +remplir de blanc les creux de sa peau." + _Confessions de J. J. Rousseau_] + +XXII + +The most industrious man alive +May yet be studious of his nails; +What boots it with the age to strive? +Custom the despot soon prevails. +A new Kaverine Eugene mine, +Dreading the world's remarks malign, +Was that which we are wont to call +A fop, in dress pedantical. +Three mortal hours per diem he +Would loiter by the looking-glass, +And from his dressing-room would pass +Like Venus when, capriciously, +The goddess would a masquerade +Attend in male attire arrayed. + +XXIII + +On this artistical retreat +Having once fixed your interest, +I might to connoisseurs repeat +The style in which my hero dressed; +Though I confess I hardly dare +Describe in detail the affair, +Since words like pantaloons, vest, coat, +To Russ indigenous are not; +And also that my feeble verse-- +Pardon I ask for such a sin-- +With words of foreign origin +Too much I'm given to intersperse, +Though to the Academy I come +And oft its Dictionary thumb.(13) + +[Note 13: Refers to Dictionary of the Academy, compiled during the +reign of Catherine II under the supervision of Lomonossoff.] + +XXIV + +But such is not my project now, +So let us to the ball-room haste, +Whither at headlong speed doth go +Eugene in hackney carriage placed. +Past darkened windows and long streets +Of slumbering citizens he fleets, +Till carriage lamps, a double row, +Cast a gay lustre on the snow, +Which shines with iridescent hues. +He nears a spacious mansion's gate, +By many a lamp illuminate, +And through the lofty windows views +Profiles of lovely dames he knows +And also fashionable beaux. + +XXV + +Our hero stops and doth alight, +Flies past the porter to the stair, +But, ere he mounts the marble flight, +With hurried hand smooths down his hair. +He enters: in the hall a crowd, +No more the music thunders loud, +Some a mazurka occupies, +Crushing and a confusing noise; +Spurs of the Cavalier Guard clash, +The feet of graceful ladies fly, +And following them ye might espy +Full many a glance like lightning flash, +And by the fiddle's rushing sound +The voice of jealousy is drowned. + +XXVI + +In my young days of wild delight +On balls I madly used to dote, +Fond declarations they invite +Or the delivery of a note. +So hearken, every worthy spouse, +I would your vigilance arouse, +Attentive be unto my rhymes +And due precautions take betimes. +Ye mothers also, caution use, +Upon your daughters keep an eye, +Employ your glasses constantly, +For otherwise--God only knows! +I lift a warning voice because +I long have ceased to offend the laws. + +XXVII + +Alas! life's hours which swiftly fly +I've wasted in amusements vain, +But were it not immoral I +Should dearly like a dance again. +I love its furious delight, +The crowd and merriment and light, +The ladies, their fantastic dress, +Also their feet--yet ne'ertheless +Scarcely in Russia can ye find +Three pairs of handsome female feet; +Ah! I still struggle to forget +A pair; though desolate my mind, +Their memory lingers still and seems +To agitate me in my dreams. + +XXVIII + +When, where, and in what desert land, +Madman, wilt thou from memory raze +Those feet? Alas! on what far strand +Do ye of spring the blossoms graze? +Lapped in your Eastern luxury, +No trace ye left in passing by +Upon the dreary northern snows, +But better loved the soft repose +Of splendid carpets richly wrought. +I once forgot for your sweet cause +The thirst for fame and man's applause, +My country and an exile's lot; +My joy in youth was fleeting e'en +As your light footprints on the green. + +XXIX + +Diana's bosom, Flora's cheeks, +Are admirable, my dear friend, +But yet Terpsichore bespeaks +Charms more enduring in the end. +For promises her feet reveal +Of untold gain she must conceal, +Their privileged allurements fire +A hidden train of wild desire. +I love them, O my dear Elvine,(14) +Beneath the table-cloth of white, +In winter on the fender bright, +In springtime on the meadows green, +Upon the ball-room's glassy floor +Or by the ocean's rocky shore. + +[Note 14: _Elvine_, or _Elvina_, was not improbably the owner of the +seductive feet apostrophized by the poet, since, in 1816, he wrote +an ode, "To Her," which commences thus: + +"Elvina, my dear, come, give me thine hand," and so forth.] + +XXX + +Beside the stormy sea one day +I envied sore the billows tall, +Which rushed in eager dense array +Enamoured at her feet to fall. +How like the billow I desired +To kiss the feet which I admired! +No, never in the early blaze +Of fiery youth's untutored days +So ardently did I desire +A young Armida's lips to press, +Her cheek of rosy loveliness +Or bosom full of languid fire,-- +A gust of passion never tore +My spirit with such pangs before. + +XXXI + +Another time, so willed it Fate, +Immersed in secret thought I stand +And grasp a stirrup fortunate-- +Her foot was in my other hand. +Again imagination blazed, +The contact of the foot I raised +Rekindled in my withered heart +The fires of passion and its smart-- +Away! and cease to ring their praise +For ever with thy tattling lyre, +The proud ones are not worth the fire +Of passion they so often raise. +The words and looks of charmers sweet +Are oft deceptive--like their feet. + +XXXII + +Where is Oneguine? Half asleep, +Straight from the ball to bed he goes, +Whilst Petersburg from slumber deep +The drum already doth arouse. +The shopman and the pedlar rise +And to the Bourse the cabman plies; +The Okhtenka with pitcher speeds,(15) +Crunching the morning snow she treads; +Morning awakes with joyous sound; +The shutters open; to the skies +In column blue the smoke doth rise; +The German baker looks around +His shop, a night-cap on his head, +And pauses oft to serve out bread. + +[Note 15: i.e. the milkmaid from the Okhta villages, a suburb of St. +Petersburg on the right bank of the Neva chiefly inhabited by the +labouring classes.] + +XXXIII + +But turning morning into night, +Tired by the ball's incessant noise, +The votary of vain delight +Sleep in the shadowy couch enjoys, +Late in the afternoon to rise, +When the same life before him lies +Till morn--life uniform but gay, +To-morrow just like yesterday. +But was our friend Eugene content, +Free, in the blossom of his spring, +Amidst successes flattering +And pleasure's daily blandishment, +Or vainly 'mid luxurious fare +Was he in health and void of care?-- + +XXXIV + +Even so! His passions soon abated, +Hateful the hollow world became, +Nor long his mind was agitated +By love's inevitable flame. +For treachery had done its worst; +Friendship and friends he likewise curst, +Because he could not gourmandise +Daily beefsteaks and Strasbourg pies +And irrigate them with champagne; +Nor slander viciously could spread +Whene'er he had an aching head; +And, though a plucky scatterbrain, +He finally lost all delight +In bullets, sabres, and in fight. + +XXXV + +His malady, whose cause I ween +It now to investigate is time, +Was nothing but the British spleen +Transported to our Russian clime. +It gradually possessed his mind; +Though, God be praised! he ne'er designed +To slay himself with blade or ball, +Indifferent he became to all, +And like Childe Harold gloomily +He to the festival repairs, +Nor boston nor the world's affairs +Nor tender glance nor amorous sigh +Impressed him in the least degree,-- +Callous to all he seemed to be. + +XXXVI + +Ye miracles of courtly grace, +He left _you_ first, and I must own +The manners of the highest class +Have latterly vexatious grown; +And though perchance a lady may +Discourse of Bentham or of Say, +Yet as a rule their talk I call +Harmless, but quite nonsensical. +Then they're so innocent of vice, +So full of piety, correct, +So prudent, and so circumspect +Stately, devoid of prejudice, +So inaccessible to men, +Their looks alone produce the spleen.(16) + +[Note 16: Apropos of this somewhat ungallant sentiment, a Russian +scholiast remarks:--"The whole of this ironical stanza is but a +_refined eulogy_ of the excellent qualities of our countrywomen. +Thus Boileau, in the guise of invective, eulogizes Louis XIV. +Russian ladies unite in their persons great acquirements, +combined with amiability and strict morality; also a species of +Oriental charm which so much captivated Madame de Stael." It will +occur to most that the apologist of the Russian fair "doth +protest too much." The poet in all probability wrote the offending +stanza in a fit of Byronic "spleen," as he would most likely +himself have called it. Indeed, since Byron, poets of his school +seem to assume this virtue if they have it not, and we take their +utterances under its influence for what they are worth.] + +XXXVII + +And you, my youthful damsels fair, +Whom latterly one often meets +Urging your droshkies swift as air +Along Saint Petersburg's paved streets, +From you too Eugene took to flight, +Abandoning insane delight, +And isolated from all men, +Yawning betook him to a pen. +He thought to write, but labour long +Inspired him with disgust and so +Nought from his pen did ever flow, +And thus he never fell among +That vicious set whom I don't blame-- +Because a member I became. + +XXXVIII + +Once more to idleness consigned, +He felt the laudable desire +From mere vacuity of mind +The wit of others to acquire. +A case of books he doth obtain-- +He reads at random, reads in vain. +This nonsense, that dishonest seems, +This wicked, that absurd he deems, +All are constrained and fetters bear, +Antiquity no pleasure gave, +The moderns of the ancients rave-- +Books he abandoned like the fair, +His book-shelf instantly doth drape +With taffety instead of crape. + +XXXIX + +Having abjured the haunts of men, +Like him renouncing vanity, +His friendship I acquired just then; +His character attracted me. +An innate love of meditation, +Original imagination, +And cool sagacious mind he had: +I was incensed and he was sad. +Both were of passion satiate +And both of dull existence tired, +Extinct the flame which once had fired; +Both were expectant of the hate +With which blind Fortune oft betrays +The very morning of our days. + +XL + +He who hath lived and living, thinks, +Must e'en despise his kind at last; +He who hath suffered ofttimes shrinks +From shades of the relentless past. +No fond illusions live to soothe, +But memory like a serpent's tooth +With late repentance gnaws and stings. +All this in many cases brings +A charm with it in conversation. +Oneguine's speeches I abhorred +At first, but soon became inured +To the sarcastic observation, +To witticisms and taunts half-vicious +And gloomy epigrams malicious. + +XLI + +How oft, when on a summer night +Transparent o'er the Neva beamed +The firmament in mellow light, +And when the watery mirror gleamed +No more with pale Diana's rays,(17) +We called to mind our youthful days-- +The days of love and of romance! +Then would we muse as in a trance, +Impressionable for an hour, +And breathe the balmy breath of night; +And like the prisoner's our delight +Who for the greenwood quits his tower, +As on the rapid wings of thought +The early days of life we sought. + +[Note 17: The midsummer nights in the latitude of St. Petersburg +are a prolonged twilight.] + +XLII + +Absorbed in melancholy mood +And o'er the granite coping bent, +Oneguine meditative stood, +E'en as the poet says he leant.(18) +'Tis silent all! Alone the cries +Of the night sentinels arise +And from the Millionaya afar(19) +The sudden rattling of a car. +Lo! on the sleeping river borne, +A boat with splashing oar floats by, +And now we hear delightedly +A jolly song and distant horn; +But sweeter in a midnight dream +Torquato Tasso's strains I deem. + +[Note 18: Refers to Mouravieff's "Goddess of the Neva." At St. +Petersburg the banks of the Neva are lined throughout with +splendid granite quays.] + +[Note 19: +A street running parallel to the Neva, and leading from +the Winter Palace to the Summer Palace and Garden.] + +XLIII + +Ye billows of blue Hadria's sea, +O Brenta, once more we shall meet +And, inspiration firing me, +Your magic voices I shall greet, +Whose tones Apollo's sons inspire, +And after Albion's proud lyre (20) +Possess my love and sympathy. +The nights of golden Italy +I'll pass beneath the firmament, +Hid in the gondola's dark shade, +Alone with my Venetian maid, +Now talkative, now reticent; +From her my lips shall learn the tongue +Of love which whilom Petrarch sung. + +[Note 20: The strong influence exercised by Byron's genius on the +imagination of Pushkin is well known. Shakespeare and other +English dramatists had also their share in influencing his mind, +which, at all events in its earlier developments, was of an +essentially imitative type. As an example of his Shakespearian +tastes, see his poem of "Angelo," founded upon "Measure for Measure."] + +XLIV + +When will my hour of freedom come! +Time, I invoke thee! favouring gales +Awaiting on the shore I roam +And beckon to the passing sails. +Upon the highway of the sea +When shall I wing my passage free +On waves by tempests curdled o'er! +'Tis time to quit this weary shore +So uncongenial to my mind, +To dream upon the sunny strand +Of Africa, ancestral land,(21) +Of dreary Russia left behind, +Wherein I felt love's fatal dart, +Wherein I buried left my heart. + +[Note 21: The poet was, on his mother's side, of African extraction, +a circumstance which perhaps accounts for the southern fervour of +his imagination. His great-grandfather, Abraham Petrovitch Hannibal, +was seized on the coast of Africa when eight years of age by a +corsair, and carried a slave to Constantinople. The Russian +Ambassador bought and presented him to Peter the Great who caused +him to be baptized at Vilnius. Subsequently one of Hannibal's +brothers made his way to Constantinople and thence to St. Petersburg +for the purpose of ransoming him; but Peter would not surrender his +godson who died at the age of ninety-two, having attained the rank +of general in the Russian service.] + +XLV + +Eugene designed with me to start +And visit many a foreign clime, +But Fortune cast our lots apart +For a protracted space of time. +Just at that time his father died, +And soon Oneguine's door beside +Of creditors a hungry rout +Their claims and explanations shout. +But Eugene, hating litigation +And with his lot in life content, +To a surrender gave consent, +Seeing in this no deprivation, +Or counting on his uncle's death +And what the old man might bequeath. + +XLVI + +And in reality one day +The steward sent a note to tell +How sick to death his uncle lay +And wished to say to him farewell. +Having this mournful document +Perused, Eugene in postchaise went +And hastened to his uncle's side, +But in his heart dissatisfied, +Having for money's sake alone +Sorrow to counterfeit and wail-- +Thus we began our little tale-- +But, to his uncle's mansion flown, +He found him on the table laid, +A due which must to earth be paid. + +XLVII + +The courtyard full of serfs he sees, +And from the country all around +Had come both friends and enemies-- +Funeral amateurs abound! +The body they consigned to rest, +And then made merry pope and guest, +With serious air then went away +As men who much had done that day. +Lo! my Oneguine rural lord! +Of mines and meadows, woods and lakes, +He now a full possession takes, +He who economy abhorred, +Delighted much his former ways +To vary for a few brief days. + +XLVIII + +For two whole days it seemed a change +To wander through the meadows still, +The cool dark oaken grove to range, +To listen to the rippling rill. +But on the third of grove and mead +He took no more the slightest heed; +They made him feel inclined to doze; +And the conviction soon arose, +Ennui can in the country dwell +Though without palaces and streets, +Cards, balls, routs, poetry or fetes; +On him spleen mounted sentinel +And like his shadow dogged his life, +Or better,--like a faithful wife. + +XLIX + +I was for calm existence made, +For rural solitude and dreams, +My lyre sings sweeter in the shade +And more imagination teems. +On innocent delights I dote, +Upon my lake I love to float, +For law I _far niente_ take +And every morning I awake +The child of sloth and liberty. +I slumber much, a little read, +Of fleeting glory take no heed. +In former years thus did not I +In idleness and tranquil joy +The happiest days of life employ? + +L + +Love, flowers, the country, idleness +And fields my joys have ever been; +I like the difference to express +Between myself and my Eugene, +Lest the malicious reader or +Some one or other editor +Of keen sarcastic intellect +Herein my portrait should detect, +And impiously should declare, +To sketch myself that I have tried +Like Byron, bard of scorn and pride, +As if impossible it were +To write of any other elf +Than one's own fascinating self. + +LI + +Here I remark all poets are +Love to idealize inclined; +I have dreamed many a vision fair +And the recesses of my mind +Retained the image, though short-lived, +Which afterwards the muse revived. +Thus carelessly I once portrayed +Mine own ideal, the mountain maid, +The captives of the Salguir's shore.(22) +But now a question in this wise +Oft upon friendly lips doth rise: +Whom doth thy plaintive Muse adore? +To whom amongst the jealous throng +Of maids dost thou inscribe thy song? + +[Note 22: Refers to two of the most interesting productions of +the poet. The former line indicates the _Prisoner of the +Caucasus_, the latter, _The Fountain of Baktchiserai_. The +Salguir is a river of the Crimea.] + +LII + +Whose glance reflecting inspiration +With tenderness hath recognized +Thy meditative incantation-- +Whom hath thy strain immortalized? +None, be my witness Heaven above! +The malady of hopeless love +I have endured without respite. +Happy who thereto can unite +Poetic transport. They impart +A double force unto their song +Who following Petrarch move along +And ease the tortures of the heart-- +Perchance they laurels also cull-- +But I, in love, was mute and dull. + +LIII + +The Muse appeared, when love passed by +And my dark soul to light was brought; +Free, I renewed the idolatry +Of harmony enshrining thought. +I write, and anguish flies away, +Nor doth my absent pen portray +Around my stanzas incomplete +Young ladies' faces and their feet. +Extinguished ashes do not blaze-- +I mourn, but tears I cannot shed-- +Soon, of the tempest which hath fled +Time will the ravages efface-- +When that time comes, a poem I'll strive +To write in cantos twenty-five. + +LIV + +I've thought well o'er the general plan, +The hero's name too in advance, +Meantime I'll finish whilst I can +Canto the First of this romance. +I've scanned it with a jealous eye, +Discovered much absurdity, +But will not modify a tittle-- +I owe the censorship a little. +For journalistic deglutition +I yield the fruit of work severe. +Go, on the Neva's bank appear, +My very latest composition! +Enjoy the meed which Fame bestows-- +Misunderstanding, words and blows. + + +END OF CANTO THE FIRST + + + +CANTO THE SECOND + +The Poet + +"O Rus!"--Horace + +Canto The Second + +[Note: Odessa, December 1823.] + +I + +The village wherein yawned Eugene +Was a delightful little spot, +There friends of pure delight had been +Grateful to Heaven for their lot. +The lonely mansion-house to screen +From gales a hill behind was seen; +Before it ran a stream. Behold! +Afar, where clothed in green and gold +Meadows and cornfields are displayed, +Villages in the distance show +And herds of oxen wandering low; +Whilst nearer, sunk in deeper shade, +A thick immense neglected grove +Extended--haunt which Dryads love. + +II + +'Twas built, the venerable pile, +As lordly mansions ought to be, +In solid, unpretentious style, +The style of wise antiquity. +Lofty the chambers one and all, +Silk tapestry upon the wall, +Imperial portraits hang around +And stoves of various shapes abound. +All this I know is out of date, +I cannot tell the reason why, +But Eugene, incontestably, +The matter did not agitate, +Because he yawned at the bare view +Of drawing-rooms or old or new. + +III + +He took the room wherein the old +Man--forty years long in this wise-- +His housekeeper was wont to scold, +Look through the window and kill flies. +'Twas plain--an oaken floor ye scan, +Two cupboards, table, soft divan, +And not a speck of dirt descried. +Oneguine oped the cupboards wide. +In one he doth accounts behold, +Here bottles stand in close array, +There jars of cider block the way, +An almanac but eight years old. +His uncle, busy man indeed, +No other book had time to read. + +IV + +Alone amid possessions great, +Eugene at first began to dream, +If but to lighten Time's dull rate, +Of many an economic scheme; +This anchorite amid his waste +The ancient _barshtchina_ replaced +By an _obrok's_ indulgent rate:(23) +The peasant blessed his happy fate. +But this a heinous crime appeared +Unto his neighbour, man of thrift, +Who secretly denounced the gift, +And many another slily sneered; +And all with one accord agreed, +He was a dangerous fool indeed. + +[Note 23: The _barshtchina_ was the corvee, or forced labour +of three days per week rendered previous to the emancipation +of 1861 by the serfs to their lord. + +The _obrok_ was a species of poll-tax paid by a serf, either +in lieu of the forced labour or in consideration of being +permitted to exercise a trade or profession elsewhere. Very +heavy obroks have at times been levied on serfs possessed of +skill or accomplishments, or who had amassed wealth; and +circumstances may be easily imagined which, under such a +system, might lead to great abuses.] + +V + +All visited him at first, of course; +But since to the backdoor they led +Most usually a Cossack horse +Upon the Don's broad pastures bred +If they but heard domestic loads +Come rumbling up the neighbouring roads, +Most by this circumstance offended +All overtures of friendship ended. +"Oh! what a fool our neighbour is! +He's a freemason, so we think. +Alone he doth his claret drink, +A lady's hand doth never kiss. +'Tis _yes! no!_ never _madam! sir!_"(24) +This was his social character. + +[Note 24: The neighbours complained of Oneguine's want of courtesy. +He always replied "da" or "nyet," yes or no, instead of "das" +or "nyets"--the final s being a contraction of "sudar" or +"sudarinia," i.e. sir or madam.] + +VI + +Into the district then to boot +A new proprietor arrived, +From whose analysis minute +The neighbourhood fresh sport derived. +Vladimir Lenski was his name, +From Gottingen inspired he came, +A worshipper of Kant, a bard, +A young and handsome galliard. +He brought from mystic Germany +The fruits of learning and combined +A fiery and eccentric mind, +Idolatry of liberty, +A wild enthusiastic tongue, +Black curls which to his shoulders hung. + +VII + +The pervert world with icy chill +Had not yet withered his young breast. +His heart reciprocated still +When Friendship smiled or Love caressed. +He was a dear delightful fool-- +A nursling yet for Hope to school. +The riot of the world and glare +Still sovereigns of his spirit were, +And by a sweet delusion he +Would soothe the doubtings of his soul, +He deemed of human life the goal +To be a charming mystery: +He racked his brains to find its clue +And marvels deemed he thus should view. + +VIII + +This he believed: a kindred spirit +Impelled to union with his own +Lay languishing both day and night-- +Waiting his coming--his alone! +He deemed his friends but longed to make +Great sacrifices for his sake! +That a friend's arm in every case +Felled a calumniator base! +That chosen heroes consecrate, +Friends of the sons of every land, +Exist--that their immortal band +Shall surely, be it soon or late, +Pour on this orb a dazzling light +And bless mankind with full delight. + +IX + +Compassion now or wrath inspires +And now philanthropy his soul, +And now his youthful heart desires +The path which leads to glory's goal. +His harp beneath that sky had rung +Where sometime Goethe, Schiller sung, +And at the altar of their fame +He kindled his poetic flame. +But from the Muses' loftiest height +The gifted songster never swerved, +But proudly in his song preserved +An ever transcendental flight; +His transports were quite maidenly, +Charming with grave simplicity. + +X + +He sang of love--to love a slave. +His ditties were as pure and bright +As thoughts which gentle maidens have, +As a babe's slumber, or the light +Of the moon in the tranquil skies, +Goddess of lovers' tender sighs. +He sang of separation grim, +Of what not, and of distant dim, +Of roses to romancers dear; +To foreign lands he would allude, +Where long time he in solitude +Had let fall many a bitter tear: +He sang of life's fresh colours stained +Before he eighteen years attained. + +XI + +Since Eugene in that solitude +Gifts such as these alone could prize, +A scant attendance Lenski showed +At neighbouring hospitalities. +He shunned those parties boisterous; +The conversation tedious +About the crop of hay, the wine, +The kennel or a kindred line, +Was certainly not erudite +Nor sparkled with poetic fire, +Nor wit, nor did the same inspire +A sense of social delight, +But still more stupid did appear +The gossip of their ladies fair. + +XII + +Handsome and rich, the neighbourhood +Lenski as a good match received,-- +Such is the country custom good; +All mothers their sweet girls believed +Suitable for this semi-Russian. +He enters: rapidly discussion +Shifts, tacks about, until they prate +The sorrows of a single state. +Perchance where Dunia pours out tea +The young proprietor we find; +To Dunia then they whisper: Mind! +And a guitar produced we see, +And Heavens! warbled forth we hear: +_Come to my golden palace, dear_!(25) + +[Note 25: From the lay of the _Russalka_, i.e. mermaid of the Dnieper.] + +XIII + +But Lenski, having no desire +Vows matrimonial to break, +With our Oneguine doth aspire +Acquaintance instantly to make. +They met. Earth, water, prose and verse, +Or ice and flame, are not diverse +If they were similar in aught. +At first such contradictions wrought +Mutual repulsion and ennui, +But grown familiar side by side +On horseback every day they ride-- +Inseparable soon they be. +Thus oft--this I myself confess-- +Men become friends from idleness. + +XIV + +But even thus not now-a-days! +In spite of common sense we're wont +As cyphers others to appraise, +Ourselves as unities to count; +And like Napoleons each of us +A million bipeds reckons thus +One instrument for his own use-- +Feeling is silly, dangerous. +Eugene, more tolerant than this +(Though certainly mankind he knew +And usually despised it too), +Exceptionless as no rule is, +A few of different temper deemed, +Feeling in others much esteemed. + +XV + +With smiling face he Lenski hears; +The poet's fervid conversation +And judgment which unsteady veers +And eye which gleams with inspiration-- +All this was novel to Eugene. +The cold reply with gloomy mien +He oft upon his lips would curb, +Thinking: 'tis foolish to disturb +This evanescent boyish bliss. +Time without me will lessons give, +So meantime let him joyous live +And deem the world perfection is! +Forgive the fever youth inspires, +And youthful madness, youthful fires. + +XVI + +The gulf between them was so vast, +Debate commanded ample food-- +The laws of generations past, +The fruits of science, evil, good, +The prejudices all men have, +The fatal secrets of the grave, +And life and fate in turn selected +Were to analysis subjected. +The fervid poet would recite, +Carried away by ecstasy, +Fragments of northern poetry, +Whilst Eugene condescending quite, +Though scarcely following what was said, +Attentive listened to the lad. + +XVII + +But more the passions occupy +The converse of our hermits twain, +And, heaving a regretful sigh, +An exile from their troublous reign, +Eugene would speak regarding these. +Thrice happy who their agonies +Hath suffered but indifferent grown, +Still happier he who ne'er hath known! +By absence who hath chilled his love, +His hate by slander, and who spends +Existence without wife or friends, +Whom jealous transport cannot move, +And who the rent-roll of his race +Ne'er trusted to the treacherous ace. + +XVIII + +When, wise at length, we seek repose +Beneath the flag of Quietude, +When Passion's fire no longer glows +And when her violence reviewed-- +Each gust of temper, silly word, +Seems so unnatural and absurd: +Reduced with effort unto sense, +We hear with interest intense +The accents wild of other's woes, +They stir the heart as heretofore. +So ancient warriors, battles o'er, +A curious interest disclose +In yarns of youthful troopers gay, +Lost in the hamlet far away. + +XIX + +And in addition youth is flame +And cannot anything conceal, +Is ever ready to proclaim +The love, hate, sorrow, joy, we feel. +Deeming himself a veteran scarred +In love's campaigns Oneguine heard +With quite a lachrymose expression +The youthful poet's fond confession. +He with an innocence extreme +His inner consciousness laid bare, +And Eugene soon discovered there +The story of his young love's dream, +Where plentifully feelings flow +Which we experienced long ago. + +XX + +Alas! he loved as in our times +Men love no more, as only the +Mad spirit of the man who rhymes +Is still condemned in love to be; +One image occupied his mind, +Constant affection intertwined +And an habitual sense of pain; +And distance interposed in vain, +Nor years of separation all +Nor homage which the Muse demands +Nor beauties of far distant lands +Nor study, banquet, rout nor ball +His constant soul could ever tire, +Which glowed with virginal desire. + +XXI + +When but a boy he Olga loved +Unknown as yet the aching heart, +He witnessed tenderly and moved +Her girlish gaiety and sport. +Beneath the sheltering oak tree's shade +He with his little maiden played, +Whilst the fond parents, friends thro' life, +Dreamed in the future man and wife. +And full of innocent delight, +As in a thicket's humble shade, +Beneath her parents' eyes the maid +Grew like a lily pure and white, +Unseen in thick and tangled grass +By bee and butterfly which pass. + +XXII + +'Twas she who first within his breast +Poetic transport did infuse, +And thoughts of Olga first impressed +A mournful temper on his Muse. +Farewell! thou golden days of love! +'Twas then he loved the tangled grove +And solitude and calm delight, +The moon, the stars, and shining night-- +The moon, the lamp of heaven above, +To whom we used to consecrate +A promenade in twilight late +With tears which secret sufferers love-- +But now in her effulgence pale +A substitute for lamps we hail! + +XXIII + +Obedient she had ever been +And modest, cheerful as the morn, +As a poetic life serene, +Sweet as the kiss of lovers sworn. +Her eyes were of cerulean blue, +Her locks were of a golden hue, +Her movements, voice and figure slight, +All about Olga--to a light +Romance of love I pray refer, +You'll find her portrait there, I vouch; +I formerly admired her much +But finally grew bored by her. +But with her elder sister I +Must now my stanzas occupy. + +XXIV + +Tattiana was her appellation. +We are the first who such a name +In pages of a love narration +With such a perversity proclaim. +But wherefore not?--'Tis pleasant, nice, +Euphonious, though I know a spice +It carries of antiquity +And of the attic. Honestly, +We must admit but little taste +Doth in us or our names appear(26) +(I speak not of our poems here), +And education runs to waste, +Endowing us from out her store +With affectation,--nothing more. + +[Note 26: The Russian annotator remarks: "The most euphonious +Greek names, e.g. Agathon, Philotas, Theodora, Thekla, etc., +are used amongst us by the lower classes only."] + +XXV + +And so Tattiana was her name, +Nor by her sister's brilliancy +Nor by her beauty she became +The cynosure of every eye. +Shy, silent did the maid appear +As in the timid forest deer, +Even beneath her parents' roof +Stood as estranged from all aloof, +Nearest and dearest knew not how +To fawn upon and love express; +A child devoid of childishness +To romp and play she ne'er would go: +Oft staring through the window pane +Would she in silence long remain. + +XXVI + +Contemplativeness, her delight, +E'en from her cradle's earliest dream, +Adorned with many a vision bright +Of rural life the sluggish stream; +Ne'er touched her fingers indolent +The needle nor, o'er framework bent, +Would she the canvas tight enrich +With gay design and silken stitch. +Desire to rule ye may observe +When the obedient doll in sport +An infant maiden doth exhort +Polite demeanour to preserve, +Gravely repeating to another +Recent instructions of its mother. + +XXVII + +But Tania ne'er displayed a passion +For dolls, e'en from her earliest years, +And gossip of the town and fashion +She ne'er repeated unto hers. +Strange unto her each childish game, +But when the winter season came +And dark and drear the evenings were, +Terrible tales she loved to hear. +And when for Olga nurse arrayed +In the broad meadow a gay rout, +All the young people round about, +At prisoner's base she never played. +Their noisy laugh her soul annoyed, +Their giddy sports she ne'er enjoyed. + +XXVIII + +She loved upon the balcony +To anticipate the break of day, +When on the pallid eastern sky +The starry beacons fade away, +The horizon luminous doth grow, +Morning's forerunners, breezes blow +And gradually day unfolds. +In winter, when Night longer holds +A hemisphere beneath her sway, +Longer the East inert reclines +Beneath the moon which dimly shines, +And calmly sleeps the hours away, +At the same hour she oped her eyes +And would by candlelight arise. + +XXIX + +Romances pleased her from the first, +Her all in all did constitute; +In love adventures she was versed, +Rousseau and Richardson to boot. +Not a bad fellow was her father +Though superannuated rather; +In books he saw nought to condemn +But, as he never opened them, +Viewed them with not a little scorn, +And gave himself but little pain +His daughter's book to ascertain +Which 'neath her pillow lay till morn. +His wife was also mad upon +The works of Mr. Richardson. + +XXX + +She was thus fond of Richardson +Not that she had his works perused, +Or that adoring Grandison +That rascal Lovelace she abused; +But that Princess Pauline of old, +Her Moscow cousin, often told +The tale of these romantic men; +Her husband was a bridegroom then, +And she despite herself would waste +Sighs on another than her lord +Whose qualities appeared to afford +More satisfaction to her taste. +Her Grandison was in the Guard, +A noted fop who gambled hard. + +XXXI + +Like his, her dress was always nice, +The height of fashion, fitting tight, +But contrary to her advice +The girl in marriage they unite. +Then, her distraction to allay, +The bridegroom sage without delay +Removed her to his country seat, +Where God alone knows whom she met. +She struggled hard at first thus pent, +Night separated from her spouse, +Then became busy with the house, +First reconciled and then content; +Habit was given us in distress +By Heaven in lieu of happiness. + +XXXII + +Habit alleviates the grief +Inseparable from our lot; +This great discovery relief +And consolation soon begot. +And then she soon 'twixt work and leisure +Found out the secret how at pleasure +To dominate her worthy lord, +And harmony was soon restored. +The workpeople she superintended, +Mushrooms for winter salted down, +Kept the accounts, shaved many a crown,(*) +The bath on Saturdays attended, +When angry beat her maids, I grieve, +And all without her husband's leave. + +[Note: The serfs destined for military service used to have +a portion of their heads shaved as a distinctive mark.] + +XXXIII + +In her friends' albums, time had been, +With blood instead of ink she scrawled, +Baptized Prascovia Pauline, +And in her conversation drawled. +She wore her corset tightly bound, +The Russian N with nasal sound +She would pronounce _a la Francaise_; +But soon she altered all her ways, +Corset and album and Pauline, +Her sentimental verses all, +She soon forgot, began to call +Akulka who was once Celine, +And had with waddling in the end +Her caps and night-dresses to mend. + +XXXIV + +As for her spouse he loved her dearly, +In her affairs ne'er interfered, +Entrusted all to her sincerely, +In dressing-gown at meals appeared. +Existence calmly sped along, +And oft at eventide a throng +Of friends unceremonious would +Assemble from the neighbourhood: +They growl a bit--they scandalise-- +They crack a feeble joke and smile-- +Thus the time passes and meanwhile +Olga the tea must supervise-- +'Tis time for supper, now for bed, +And soon the friendly troop hath fled. + +XXXV + +They in a peaceful life preserved +Customs by ages sanctified, +Strictly the Carnival observed, +Ate Russian pancakes at Shrovetide, +Twice in the year to fast were bound, +Of whirligigs were very fond, +Of Christmas carols, song and dance; +When people with long countenance +On Trinity Sunday yawned at prayer, +Three tears they dropt with humble mein +Upon a bunch of lovage green; +_Kvass_ needful was to them as air; +On guests their servants used to wait +By rank as settled by the State.(27) + +[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 etait fille, elle etait amoureuse'--Malfilatre + +Canto The Third + +[Note: Odessa and Mikhailovskoe, 1824.] + +I + +"Whither away? Deuce take the bard!"-- +"Good-bye, Oneguine, I must go."-- +"I won't detain you; but 'tis hard +To guess how you the eve pull through."-- +"At Larina'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, Oneguine, 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! Larina 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 Joukovski, upon which his +fame mainly rests. Joukovski 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 Oneguine's apparition +At Larina'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 Oneguine 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'ame. 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-Namierenni," 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 + +God grant I meet not at a ball +Or at a promenade mayhap, +A schoolmaster in yellow shawl +Or a professor in tulle cap. +As rosy lips without a smile, +The Russian language I deem vile +Without grammatical mistakes. +May be, and this my terror wakes, +The fair of the next generation, +As every journal now entreats, +Will teach grammatical conceits, +Introduce verse in conversation. +But I--what is all this to me? +Will to the old times faithful be. + +XXXI + +Speech careless, incorrect, but soft, +With inexact pronunciation +Raises within my breast as oft +As formerly much agitation. +Repentance wields not now her spell +And gallicisms I love as well +As the sins of my youthful days +Or Bogdanovitch's sweet lays.(41) +But I must now employ my Muse +With the epistle of my fair; +I promised!--Did I so?--Well, there! +Now I am ready to refuse. +I know that Parny's tender pen(42) +Is no more cherished amongst men. + +[Note 41: Hippolyte Bogdanovitch--b. 1743, d. 1803--though +possessing considerable poetical talent was like many other +Russian authors more remarkable for successful imitation +than for original genius. His most remarkable production +is "Doushenka," "The Darling," a composition somewhat in +the style of La Fontaine's "Psyche." Its merit consists in +graceful phraseology, and a strong pervading sense of humour.] + +[Note 42: Parny--a French poet of the era of the first Napoleon, +b. 1753, d. 1814. Introduced to the aged Voltaire during +his last visit to Paris, the patriarch laid his hands upon +the youth's head and exclaimed: "Mon cher Tibulle." He is +chiefly known for his erotic poetry which attracted the +affectionate regard of the youthful Pushkin when a student +at the Lyceum. We regret to add that, having accepted a +pension from Napoleon, Parny forthwith proceeded to damage +his literary reputation by inditing an "epic" poem entitled +"Goddam! Goddam! par un French--Dog." It is descriptive +of the approaching conquest of Britain by Napoleon, and +treats the embryo enterprise as if already conducted to a +successful conclusion and become matter of history. A good +account of the bard and his creations will be found in the +_Saturday Review_ of the 2d August 1879.] + +XXXII + +Bard of the "Feasts," and mournful breast,(43) +If thou wert sitting by my side, +With this immoderate request +I should alarm our friendship tried: +In one of thine enchanting lays +To russify the foreign phrase +Of my impassioned heroine. +Where art thou? Come! pretensions mine +I yield with a low reverence; +But lonely beneath Finnish skies +Where melancholy rocks arise +He wanders in his indolence; +Careless of fame his spirit high +Hears not my importunity! + +[Note 43: Evgeny Baratynski, a contemporary of Pushkin and a +lyric poet of some originality and talent. The "Feasts" is +a short brilliant poem in praise of conviviality. Pushkin +is therein praised as the best of companions "beside the +bottle."] + +XXXIII + +Tattiana's letter I possess, +I guard it as a holy thing, +And though I read it with distress, +I'm o'er it ever pondering. +Inspired by whom this tenderness, +This gentle daring who could guess? +Who this soft nonsense could impart, +Imprudent prattle of the heart, +Attractive in its banefulness? +I cannot understand. But lo! +A feeble version read below, +A print without the picture's grace, +Or, as it were, the Freischutz' score +Strummed by a timid schoolgirl o'er. + + +Tattiana's Letter to Oneguine + +I write to you! Is more required? +Can lower depths beyond remain? +'Tis in your power now, if desired, +To crush me with a just disdain. +But if my lot unfortunate +You in the least commiserate +You will not all abandon me. +At first, I clung to secrecy: +Believe me, of my present shame +You never would have heard the name, +If the fond hope I could have fanned +At times, if only once a week, +To see you by our fireside stand, +To listen to the words you speak, +Address to you one single phrase +And then to meditate for days +Of one thing till again we met. +'Tis said you are a misanthrope, +In country solitude you mope, +And we--an unattractive set-- +Can hearty welcome give alone. +Why did you visit our poor place? +Forgotten in the village lone, +I never should have seen your face +And bitter torment never known. +The untutored spirit's pangs calmed down +By time (who can anticipate?) +I had found my predestinate, +Become a faithful wife and e'en +A fond and careful mother been. + +Another! to none other I +My heart's allegiance can resign, +My doom has been pronounced on high, +'Tis Heaven's will and I am thine. +The sum of my existence gone +But promise of our meeting gave, +I feel thou wast by God sent down +My guardian angel to the grave. +Thou didst to me in dreams appear, +Unseen thou wast already dear. +Thine eye subdued me with strange glance, +I heard thy voice's resonance +Long ago. Dream it cannot be! +Scarce hadst thou entered thee I knew, +I flushed up, stupefied I grew, +And cried within myself: 'tis he! +Is it not truth? in tones suppressed +With thee I conversed when I bore +Comfort and succour to the poor, +And when I prayer to Heaven addressed +To ease the anguish of my breast. +Nay! even as this instant fled, +Was it not thou, O vision bright, +That glimmered through the radiant night +And gently hovered o'er my head? +Was it not thou who thus didst stoop +To whisper comfort, love and hope? +Who art thou? Guardian angel sent +Or torturer malevolent? +Doubt and uncertainty decide: +All this may be an empty dream, +Delusions of a mind untried, +Providence otherwise may deem-- +Then be it so! My destiny +From henceforth I confide to thee! +Lo! at thy feet my tears I pour +And thy protection I implore. +Imagine! Here alone am I! +No one my anguish comprehends, +At times my reason almost bends, +And silently I here must die-- +But I await thee: scarce alive +My heart with but one look revive; +Or to disturb my dreams approach +Alas! with merited reproach. + +'Tis finished. Horrible to read! +With shame I shudder and with dread-- +But boldly I myself resign: +Thine honour is my countersign! + +XXXIV + +Tattiana moans and now she sighs +And in her grasp the letter shakes, +Even the rosy wafer dries +Upon her tongue which fever bakes. +Her head upon her breast declines +And an enchanting shoulder shines +From her half-open vest of night. +But lo! already the moon's light +Is waning. Yonder valley deep +Looms gray behind the mist and morn +Silvers the brook; the shepherd's horn +Arouses rustics from their sleep. +'Tis day, the family downstairs, +But nought for this Tattiana cares. + +XXXV + +The break of day she doth not see, +But sits in bed with air depressed, +Nor on the letter yet hath she +The image of her seal impressed. +But gray Phillippevna the door +Opened with care, and entering bore +A cup of tea upon a tray. +"'Tis time, my child, arise, I pray! +My beauty, thou art ready too. +My morning birdie, yesternight +I was half silly with affright. +But praised be God! in health art thou! +The pains of night have wholly fled, +Thy cheek is as a poppy red!" + +XXXVI + +"Ah! nurse, a favour do for me!" +"Command me, darling, what you choose" +"Do not--you might--suspicious be; +But look you--ah! do not refuse." +"I call to witness God on high--" +"Then send your grandson quietly +To take this letter to O-- Well! +Unto our neighbour. Mind you tell-- +Command him not to say a word-- +I mean my name not to repeat." +"To whom is it to go, my sweet? +Of late I have been quite absurd,-- +So many neighbours here exist-- +Am I to go through the whole list?" + +XXXVII + +"How dull you are this morning, nurse!" +"My darling, growing old am I! +In age the memory gets worse, +But I was sharp in times gone by. +In times gone by thy bare command--" +"Oh! nurse, nurse, you don't understand! +What is thy cleverness to me? +The letter is the thing, you see,-- +Oneguine's letter!"--"Ah! the thing! +Now don't be cross with me, my soul, +You know that I am now a fool-- +But why are your cheeks whitening?" +"Nothing, good nurse, there's nothing wrong, +But send your grandson before long." + +XXXVIII + +No answer all that day was borne. +Another passed; 'twas just the same. +Pale as a ghost and dressed since morn +Tattiana waits. No answer came! +Olga's admirer came that day: +"Tell me, why doth your comrade stay?" +The hostess doth interrogate: +"He hath neglected us of late."-- +Tattiana blushed, her heart beat quick-- +"He promised here this day to ride," +Lenski unto the dame replied, +"The post hath kept him, it is like." +Shamefaced, Tattiana downward looked +As if he cruelly had joked! + +XXXIX + +'Twas dusk! Upon the table bright +Shrill sang the _samovar_ at eve,(44) +The china teapot too ye might +In clouds of steam above perceive. +Into the cups already sped +By Olga's hand distributed +The fragrant tea in darkling stream, +And a boy handed round the cream. +Tania doth by the casement linger +And breathes upon the chilly glass, +Dreaming of what not, pretty lass, +And traces with a slender finger +Upon its damp opacity, +The mystic monogram, O. E. + +[Note 44: The _samovar_, i.e. "self-boiler," is merely an +urn for hot water having a fire in the center. We may observe +a similar contrivance in our own old-fashioned tea-urns which +are provided with a receptacle for a red-hot iron cylinder in +center. The tea-pot is usually placed on the top of the +_samovar_.] + +XL + +In the meantime her spirit sinks, +Her weary eyes are filled with tears-- +A horse's hoofs she hears--She shrinks! +Nearer they come--Eugene appears! +Ah! than a spectre from the dead +More swift the room Tattiana fled, +From hall to yard and garden flies, +Not daring to cast back her eyes. +She fears and like an arrow rushes +Through park and meadow, wood and brake, +The bridge and alley to the lake, +Brambles she snaps and lilacs crushes, +The flowerbeds skirts, the brook doth meet, +Till out of breath upon a seat + +XLI + +She sank.-- + "He's here! Eugene is here! +Merciful God, what will he deem?" +Yet still her heart, which torments tear, +Guards fondly hope's uncertain dream. +She waits, on fire her trembling frame-- +Will he pursue?--But no one came. +She heard of servant-maids the note, +Who in the orchards gathered fruit, +Singing in chorus all the while. +(This by command; for it was found, +However cherries might abound, +They disappeared by stealth and guile, +So mouths they stopt with song, not fruit-- +Device of rural minds acute!) + + +The Maidens' Song + +Young maidens, fair maidens, +Friends and companions, +Disport yourselves, maidens, +Arouse yourselves, fair ones. +Come sing we in chorus +The secrets of maidens. +Allure the young gallant +With dance and with song. +As we lure the young gallant, +Espy him approaching, +Disperse yourselves, darlings, +And pelt him with cherries, +With cherries, red currants, +With raspberries, cherries. +Approach not to hearken +To secrets of virgins, +Approach not to gaze at +The frolics of maidens. + +XLII + +They sang, whilst negligently seated, +Attentive to the echoing sound, +Tattiana with impatience waited +Until her heart less high should bound-- +Till the fire in her cheek decreased; +But tremor still her frame possessed, +Nor did her blushes fade away, +More crimson every moment they. +Thus shines the wretched butterfly, +With iridescent wing doth flap +When captured in a schoolboy's cap; +Thus shakes the hare when suddenly +She from the winter corn espies +A sportsman who in covert lies. + +XLIII + +But finally she heaves a sigh, +And rising from her bench proceeds; +But scarce had turned the corner nigh, +Which to the neighbouring alley leads, +When Eugene like a ghost did rise +Before her straight with roguish eyes. +Tattiana faltered, and became +Scarlet as burnt by inward flame. +But this adventure's consequence +To-day, my friends, at any rate, +I am not strong enough to state; +I, after so much eloquence, +Must take a walk and rest a bit-- +Some day I'll somehow finish it. + + +End of Canto the Third + + +CANTO THE FOURTH + +Rural Life + +'La Morale est dans la nature des choses.'--Necker + + +Canto The Fourth + +[Mikhailovskoe, 1825] + +I + +THE less we love a lady fair +The easier 'tis to gain her grace, +And the more surely we ensnare +Her in the pitfalls which we place. +Time was when cold seduction strove +To swagger as the art of love, +Everywhere trumpeting its feats, +Not seeking love but sensual sweets. +But this amusement delicate +Was worthy of that old baboon, +Our fathers used to dote upon; +The Lovelaces are out of date, +Their glory with their heels of red +And long perukes hath vanished. + +II + +For who imposture can endure, +A constant harping on one tune, +Serious endeavours to assure +What everybody long has known; +Ever to hear the same replies +And overcome antipathies +Which never have existed, e'en +In little maidens of thirteen? +And what like menaces fatigues, +Entreaties, oaths, fictitious fear, +Epistles of six sheets or near, +Rings, tears, deceptions and intrigues, +Aunts, mothers and their scrutiny, +And husbands' tedious amity? + +III + +Such were the musings of Eugene. +He in the early years of life +Had a deluded victim been +Of error and the passions' strife. +By daily life deteriorated, +Awhile this beauty captivated, +And that no longer could inspire. +Slowly exhausted by desire, +Yet satiated with success, +In solitude or worldly din, +He heard his soul's complaint within, +With laughter smothered weariness: +And thus he spent eight years of time, +Destroyed the blossom of his prime. + +IV + +Though beauty he no more adored, +He still made love in a queer way; +Rebuffed--as quickly reassured, +Jilted--glad of a holiday. +Without enthusiasm he met +The fair, nor parted with regret, +Scarce mindful of their love and guile. +Thus a guest with composure will +To take a hand at whist oft come: +He takes his seat, concludes his game, +And straight returning whence he came, +Tranquilly goes to sleep at home, +And in the morning doth not know +Whither that evening he will go. + +V + +However, Tania's letter reading, +Eugene was touched with sympathy; +The language of her girlish pleading +Aroused in him sweet reverie. +He called to mind Tattiana's grace, +Pallid and melancholy face, +And in a vision, sinless, bright, +His spirit sank with strange delight. +May be the empire of the sense, +Regained authority awhile, +But he desired not to beguile +Such open-hearted innocence. +But to the garden once again +Wherein we lately left the twain. + +VI + +Two minutes they in silence spent, +Oneguine then approached and said: +"You have a letter to me sent. +Do not excuse yourself. I read +Confessions which a trusting heart +May well in innocence impart. +Charming is your sincerity, +Feelings which long had ceased to be +It wakens in my breast again. +But I came not to adulate: +Your frankness I shall compensate +By an avowal just as plain. +An ear to my confession lend; +To thy decree my will I bend. + +VII + +"If the domestic hearth could bless-- +My sum of happiness contained; +If wife and children to possess +A happy destiny ordained: +If in the scenes of home I might +E'en for an instant find delight, +Then, I say truly, none but thee +I would desire my bride to be-- +I say without poetic phrase, +Found the ideal of my youth, +Thee only would I choose, in truth, +As partner of my mournful days, +Thee only, pledge of all things bright, +And be as happy--as I might. + +VIII + +"But strange am I to happiness; +'Tis foreign to my cast of thought; +Me your perfections would not bless; +I am not worthy them in aught; +And honestly 'tis my belief +Our union would produce but grief. +Though now my love might be intense, +Habit would bring indifference. +I see you weep. Those tears of yours +Tend not my heart to mitigate, +But merely to exasperate; +Judge then what roses would be ours, +What pleasures Hymen would prepare +For us, may be for many a year. + +IX + +"What can be drearier than the house, +Wherein the miserable wife +Deplores a most unworthy spouse +And leads a solitary life? +The tiresome man, her value knowing, +Yet curses on his fate bestowing, +Is full of frigid jealousy, +Mute, solemn, frowning gloomily. +Such am I. This did ye expect, +When in simplicity ye wrote +Your innocent and charming note +With so much warmth and intellect? +Hath fate apportioned unto thee +This lot in life with stern decree? + +X + +"Ideas and time ne'er backward move; +My soul I cannot renovate-- +I love you with a brother's love, +Perchance one more affectionate. +Listen to me without disdain. +A maid hath oft, may yet again +Replace the visions fancy drew; +Thus trees in spring their leaves renew +As in their turn the seasons roll. +'Tis evidently Heaven's will +You fall in love again. But still-- +Learn to possess more self-control. +Not all will like myself proceed-- +And thoughtlessness to woe might lead." + +XI + +Thus did our friend Oneguine preach: +Tattiana, dim with tears her eyes, +Attentive listened to his speech, +All breathless and without replies. +His arm he offers. Mute and sad +(_Mechanically_, let us add), +Tattiana doth accept his aid; +And, hanging down her head, the maid +Around the garden homeward hies. +Together they returned, nor word +Of censure for the same incurred; +The country hath its liberties +And privileges nice allowed, +Even as Moscow, city proud. + +XII + +Confess, O ye who this peruse, +Oneguine acted very well +By poor Tattiana in the blues; +'Twas not the first time, I can tell +You, he a noble mind disclosed, +Though some men, evilly disposed, +Spared him not their asperities. +His friends and also enemies +(One and the same thing it may be) +Esteemed him much as the world goes. +Yes! every one must have his foes, +But Lord! from friends deliver me! +The deuce take friends, my friends, amends +I've had to make for having friends! + +XIII + +But how? Quite so. Though I dismiss +Dark, unavailing reverie, +I just hint, in parenthesis, +There is no stupid calumny +Born of a babbler in a loft +And by the world repeated oft, +There is no fishmarket retort +And no ridiculous report, +Which your true friend with a sweet smile +Where fashionable circles meet +A hundred times will not repeat, +Quite inadvertently meanwhile; +And yet he in your cause would strive +And loves you as--a relative! + +XIV + +Ahem! Ahem! My reader noble, +Are all your relatives quite well? +Permit me; is it worth the trouble +For your instruction here to tell +What I by relatives conceive? +These are your relatives, believe: +Those whom we ought to love, caress, +With spiritual tenderness; +Whom, as the custom is of men, +We visit about Christmas Day, +Or by a card our homage pay, +That until Christmas comes again +They may forget that we exist. +And so--God bless them, if He list. + +XV + +In this the love of the fair sex +Beats that of friends and relatives: +In love, although its tempests vex, +Our liberty at least survives: +Agreed! but then the whirl of fashion, +The natural fickleness of passion, +The torrent of opinion, +And the fair sex as light as down! +Besides the hobbies of a spouse +Should be respected throughout life +By every proper-minded wife, +And this the faithful one allows, +When in as instant she is lost,-- +Satan will jest, and at love's cost. + +XVI + +Oh! where bestow our love? Whom trust? +Where is he who doth not deceive? +Who words and actions will adjust +To standards in which we believe? +Oh! who is not calumnious? +Who labours hard to humour us? +To whom are our misfortunes grief +And who is not a tiresome thief? +My venerated reader, oh! +Cease the pursuit of shadows vain, +Spare yourself unavailing pain +And all your love on self bestow; +A worthy object 'tis, and well +I know there's none more amiable. + +XVII + +But from the interview what flowed? +Alas! It is not hard to guess. +The insensate fire of love still glowed +Nor discontinued to distress +A spirit which for sorrow yearned. +Tattiana more than ever burned +With hopeless passion: from her bed +Sweet slumber winged its way and fled. +Her health, life's sweetness and its bloom, +Her smile and maidenly repose, +All vanished as an echo goes. +Across her youth a shade had come, +As when the tempest's veil is drawn +Across the smiling face of dawn. + +XVIII + +Alas! Tattiana fades away, +Grows pale and sinks, but nothing says; +Listless is she the livelong day +Nor interest in aught betrays. +Shaking with serious air the head, +In whispers low the neighbours said: +'Tis time she to the altar went! +But enough! Now, 'tis my intent +The imagination to enliven +With love which happiness extends; +Against my inclination, friends, +By sympathy I have been driven. +Forgive me! Such the love I bear +My heroine, Tattiana dear. + +XIX + +Vladimir, hourly more a slave +To youthful Olga's beauty bright, +Into delicious bondage gave +His ardent soul with full delight. +Always together, eventide +Found them in darkness side by side, +At morn, hand clasped in hand, they rove +Around the meadow and the grove. +And what resulted? Drunk with love, +But with confused and bashful air, +Lenski at intervals would dare, +If Olga smilingly approve, +Dally with a dishevelled tress +Or kiss the border of her dress. + +XX + +To Olga frequently he would +Some nice instructive novel read, +Whose author nature understood +Better than Chateaubriand did +Yet sometimes pages two or three +(Nonsense and pure absurdity, +For maiden's hearing deemed unfit), +He somewhat blushing would omit: +Far from the rest the pair would creep +And (elbows on the table) they +A game of chess would often play, +Buried in meditation deep, +Till absently Vladimir took +With his own pawn alas! his rook! + +XXI + +Homeward returning, he at home +Is occupied with Olga fair, +An album, fly-leaf of the tome, +He leisurely adorns for her. +Landscapes thereon he would design, +A tombstone, Aphrodite's shrine, +Or, with a pen and colours fit, +A dove which on a lyre doth sit; +The "in memoriam" pages sought, +Where many another hand had signed +A tender couplet he combined, +A register of fleeting thought, +A flimsy trace of musings past +Which might for many ages last. + +XXII + +Surely ye all have overhauled +A country damsel's album trim, +Which all her darling friends have scrawled +From first to last page to the rim. +Behold! orthography despising, +Metreless verses recognizing +By friendship how they were abused, +Hewn, hacked, and otherwise ill-used. +Upon the opening page ye find: +_Qu'ecrirer-vouz sur ces tablettes?_ +Subscribed, _toujours a vous, Annette;_ +And on the last one, underlined: +_Who in thy love finds more delight +Beyond this may attempt to write_. + +XXIII + +Infallibly you there will find +Two hearts, a torch, of flowers a wreath, +And vows will probably be signed: +_Affectionately yours till death_. +Some army poet therein may +Have smuggled his flagitious lay. +In such an album with delight +I would, my friends, inscriptions write, +Because I should be sure, meanwhile, +My verses, kindly meant, would earn +Delighted glances in return; +That afterwards with evil smile +They would not solemnly debate +If cleverly or not I prate. + +XXIV + +But, O ye tomes without compare, +Which from the devil's bookcase start, +Albums magnificent which scare +The fashionable rhymester's heart! +Yea! although rendered beauteous +By Tolstoy's pencil marvellous, +Though Baratynski verses penned,(45) +The thunderbolt on you descend! +Whene'er a brilliant courtly dame +Presents her quarto amiably, +Despair and anger seize on me, +And a malicious epigram +Trembles upon my lips from spite,-- +And madrigals I'm asked to write! + +[Note 45: Count Tolstoy, a celebrated artist who subsequently +became Vice-President of the Academy of Arts at St. Petersburg. +Baratynski, see Note 43.] + +XXV + +But Lenski madrigals ne'er wrote +In Olga's album, youthful maid, +To purest love he tuned his note +Nor frigid adulation paid. +What never was remarked or heard +Of Olga he in song averred; +His elegies, which plenteous streamed, +Both natural and truthful seemed. +Thus thou, Yazykoff, dost arise(46) +In amorous flights when so inspired, +Singing God knows what maid admired, +And all thy precious elegies, +Sometime collected, shall relate +The story of thy life and fate. + +[Note 46: Yazykoff, a poet contemporary with Pushkin. He was +an author of promise--unfulfilled.] + +XXVI + +Since Fame and Freedom he adored, +Incited by his stormy Muse +Odes Lenski also had outpoured, +But Olga would not such peruse. +When poets lachrymose recite +Beneath the eyes of ladies bright +Their own productions, some insist +No greater pleasure can exist +Just so! that modest swain is blest +Who reads his visionary theme +To the fair object of his dream, +A beauty languidly at rest, +Yes, happy--though she at his side +By other thoughts be occupied. + +XXVII + +But I the products of my Muse, +Consisting of harmonious lays, +To my old nurse alone peruse, +Companion of my childhood's days. +Or, after dinner's dull repast, +I by the button-hole seize fast +My neighbour, who by chance drew near, +And breathe a drama in his ear. +Or else (I deal not here in jokes), +Exhausted by my woes and rhymes, +I sail upon my lake at times +And terrify a swarm of ducks, +Who, heard the music of my lay, +Take to their wings and fly away. + +XXVIII + +But to Oneguine! _A propos_! +Friends, I must your indulgence pray. +His daily occupations, lo! +Minutely I will now portray. +A hermit's life Oneguine led, +At seven in summer rose from bed, +And clad in airy costume took +His course unto the running brook. +There, aping Gulnare's bard, he spanned +His Hellespont from bank to bank, +And then a cup of coffee drank, +Some wretched journal in his hand; +Then dressed himself...(*) + +[Note: Stanza left unfinished by the author.] + +XXIX + +Sound sleep, books, walking, were his bliss, +The murmuring brook, the woodland shade, +The uncontaminated kiss +Of a young dark-eyed country maid, +A fiery, yet well-broken horse, +A dinner, whimsical each course, +A bottle of a vintage white +And solitude and calm delight. +Such was Oneguine's sainted life, +And such unconsciously he led, +Nor marked how summer's prime had fled +In aimless ease and far from strife, +The curse of commonplace delight. +And town and friends forgotten quite. + +XXX + +This northern summer of our own, +On winters of the south a skit, +Glimmers and dies. This is well known, +Though we will not acknowledge it. +Already Autumn chilled the sky, +The tiny sun shone less on high +And shorter had the days become. +The forests in mysterious gloom +Were stripped with melancholy sound, +Upon the earth a mist did lie +And many a caravan on high +Of clamorous geese flew southward bound. +A weary season was at hand-- +November at the gate did stand. + +XXXI + +The morn arises foggy, cold, +The silent fields no peasant nears, +The wolf upon the highways bold +With his ferocious mate appears. +Detecting him the passing horse +snorts, and his rider bends his course +And wisely gallops to the hill. +No more at dawn the shepherd will +Drive out the cattle from their shed, +Nor at the hour of noon with sound +Of horn in circle call them round. +Singing inside her hut the maid +Spins, whilst the friend of wintry night, +The pine-torch, by her crackles bright. + +XXXII + +Already crisp hoar frosts impose +O'er all a sheet of silvery dust +(Readers expect the rhyme of _rose_, +There! take it quickly, if ye must). +Behold! than polished floor more nice +The shining river clothed in ice; +A joyous troop of little boys +Engrave the ice with strident noise. +A heavy goose on scarlet feet, +Thinking to float upon the stream, +Descends the bank with care extreme, +But staggers, slips, and falls. We greet +The first bright wreathing storm of snow +Which falls in starry flakes below. + +XXXIII + +How in the country pass this time? +Walking? The landscape tires the eye +In winter by its blank and dim +And naked uniformity. +On horseback gallop o'er the steppe! +Your steed, though rough-shod, cannot keep +His footing on the treacherous rime +And may fall headlong any time. +Alone beneath your rooftree stay +And read De Pradt or Walter Scott!(47) +Keep your accounts! You'd rather not? +Then get mad drunk or wroth; the day +Will pass; the same to-morrow try-- +You'll spend your winter famously! + +[Note 47: The Abbe de Pradt: b. 1759, d. 1837. A political +pamphleteer of the French Revolution: was at first an emigre, +but made his peace with Napoleon and was appointed Archbishop +of Malines.] + +XXXIV + +A true Childe Harold my Eugene +To idle musing was a prey; +At morn an icy bath within +He sat, and then the livelong day, +Alone within his habitation +And buried deep in meditation, +He round the billiard-table stalked, +The balls impelled, the blunt cue chalked; +When evening o'er the landscape looms, +Billiards abandoned, cue forgot, +A table to the fire is brought, +And he waits dinner. Lenski comes, +Driving abreast three horses gray. +"Bring dinner now without delay!" + +XXXV + +Upon the table in a trice +Of widow Clicquot or Moet +A blessed bottle, placed in ice, +For the young poet they display. +Like Hippocrene it scatters light, +Its ebullition foaming white +(Like other things I could relate) +My heart of old would captivate. +The last poor obol I was worth-- +Was it not so?--for thee I gave, +And thy inebriating wave +Full many a foolish prank brought forth; +And oh! what verses, what delights, +Delicious visions, jests and fights! + +XXXVI + +Alas! my stomach it betrays +With its exhilarating flow, +And I confess that now-a-days +I prefer sensible Bordeaux. +To cope with Ay no more I dare, +For Ay is like a mistress fair, +Seductive, animated, bright, +But wilful, frivolous, and light. +But thou, Bordeaux, art like the friend +Who in the agony of grief +Is ever ready with relief, +Assistance ever will extend, +Or quietly partake our woe. +All hail! my good old friend Bordeaux! + +XXXVII + +The fire sinks low. An ashy cloak +The golden ember now enshrines, +And barely visible the smoke +Upward in a thin stream inclines. +But little warmth the fireplace lends, +Tobacco smoke the flue ascends, +The goblet still is bubbling bright-- +Outside descend the mists of night. +How pleasantly the evening jogs +When o'er a glass with friends we prate +Just at the hour we designate +The time between the wolf and dogs-- +I cannot tell on what pretence-- +But lo! the friends to chat commence. + +XXXVIII + +"How are our neighbours fair, pray tell, +Tattiana, saucy Olga thine?" +"The family are all quite well-- +Give me just half a glass of wine-- +They sent their compliments--but oh! +How charming Olga's shoulders grow! +Her figure perfect grows with time! +She is an angel! We sometime +Must visit them. Come! you must own, +My friend, 'tis but to pay a debt, +For twice you came to them and yet +You never since your nose have shown. +But stay! A dolt am I who speak! +They have invited you this week." + +XXXIX + +"Me?"--"Yes! It is Tattiana's fete +Next Saturday. The Larina +Told me to ask you. Ere that date +Make up your mind to go there."--"Ah! +It will be by a mob beset +Of every sort and every set!" +"Not in the least, assured am I!" +"Who will be there?"--"The family. +Do me a favour and appear. +Will you?"--"Agreed."--"I thank you, friend," +And saying this Vladimir drained +His cup unto his maiden dear. +Then touching Olga they depart +In fresh discourse. Such, love, thou art! + +XL + +He was most gay. The happy date +In three weeks would arrive for them; +The secrets of the marriage state +And love's delicious diadem +With rapturous longing he awaits, +Nor in his dreams anticipates +Hymen's embarrassments, distress, +And freezing fits of weariness. +Though we, of Hymen foes, meanwhile, +In life domestic see a string +Of pictures painful harrowing, +A novel in Lafontaine's style, +My wretched Lenski's fate I mourn, +He seemed for matrimony born. + +XLI + +He was beloved: or say at least, +He thought so, and existence charmed. +The credulous indeed are blest, +And he who, jealousy disarmed, +In sensual sweets his soul doth steep +As drunken tramps at nightfall sleep, +Or, parable more flattering, +As butterflies to blossoms cling. +But wretched who anticipates, +Whose brain no fond illusions daze, +Who every gesture, every phrase +In true interpretation hates: +Whose heart experience icy made +And yet oblivion forbade. + + +End of Canto The Fourth + + + +CANTO THE FIFTH + +The Fete + +'Oh, do not dream these fearful dreams, + O my Svetlana.'--Joukovski + +Canto The Fifth + +[Note: Mikhailovskoe, 1825-6] + +I + +That year the autumn season late +Kept lingering on as loath to go, +All Nature winter seemed to await, +Till January fell no snow-- +The third at night. Tattiana wakes +Betimes, and sees, when morning breaks, +Park, garden, palings, yard below +And roofs near morn blanched o'er with snow; +Upon the windows tracery, +The trees in silvery array, +Down in the courtyard magpies gay, +And the far mountains daintily +O'erspread with Winter's carpet bright, +All so distinct, and all so white! + +II + +Winter! The peasant blithely goes +To labour in his sledge forgot, +His pony sniffing the fresh snows +Just manages a feeble trot +Though deep he sinks into the drift; +Forth the _kibitka_ gallops swift,(48) +Its driver seated on the rim +In scarlet sash and sheepskin trim; +Yonder the household lad doth run, +Placed in a sledge his terrier black, +Himself transformed into a hack; +To freeze his finger hath begun, +He laughs, although it aches from cold, +His mother from the door doth scold. + +[Note 48: The "kibitka," properly speaking, whether on wheels +or runners, is a vehicle with a hood not unlike a big cradle.] + +III + +In scenes like these it may be though, +Ye feel but little interest, +They are all natural and low, +Are not with elegance impressed. +Another bard with art divine +Hath pictured in his gorgeous line +The first appearance of the snows +And all the joys which Winter knows. +He will delight you, I am sure, +When he in ardent verse portrays +Secret excursions made in sleighs; +But competition I abjure +Either with him or thee in song, +Bard of the Finnish maiden young.(49) + +[Note 49: The allusions in the foregoing stanza are in the first +place to a poem entitled "The First Snow," by Prince Viazemski +and secondly to "Eda," by Baratynski, a poem descriptive of life +in Finland.] + +IV + +Tattiana, Russian to the core, +Herself not knowing well the reason, +The Russian winter did adore +And the cold beauties of the season: +On sunny days the glistening rime, +Sledging, the snows, which at the time +Of sunset glow with rosy light, +The misty evenings ere Twelfth Night. +These evenings as in days of old +The Larinas would celebrate, +The servants used to congregate +And the young ladies fortunes told, +And every year distributed +Journeys and warriors to wed. + +V + +Tattiana in traditions old +Believed, the people's wisdom weird, +In dreams and what the moon foretold +And what she from the cards inferred. +Omens inspired her soul with fear, +Mysteriously all objects near +A hidden meaning could impart, +Presentiments oppressed her heart. +Lo! the prim cat upon the stove +With one paw strokes her face and purrs, +Tattiana certainly infers +That guests approach: and when above +The new moon's crescent slim she spied, +Suddenly to the left hand side, + +VI + +She trembled and grew deadly pale. +Or a swift meteor, may be, +Across the gloom of heaven would sail +And disappear in space; then she +Would haste in agitation dire +To mutter her concealed desire +Ere the bright messenger had set. +When in her walks abroad she met +A friar black approaching near,(50) +Or a swift hare from mead to mead +Had run across her path at speed, +Wholly beside herself with fear, +Anticipating woe she pined, +Certain misfortune near opined. + +[Note 50: The Russian clergy are divided into two classes: +the white or secular, which is made up of the mass of parish +priests, and the black who inhabit the monasteries, furnish +the high dignitaries of the Church, and constitute that swarm +of useless drones for whom Peter the Great felt such a deep +repugnance.] + +VII + +Wherefore? She found a secret joy +In horror for itself alone, +Thus Nature doth our souls alloy, +Thus her perversity hath shown. +Twelfth Night approaches. Merry eves!(51) +When thoughtless youth whom nothing grieves, +Before whose inexperienced sight +Life lies extended, vast and bright, +To peer into the future tries. +Old age through spectacles too peers, +Although the destined coffin nears, +Having lost all in life we prize. +It matters not. Hope e'en to these +With childlike lisp will lie to please. + +[Note 51: Refers to the "Sviatki" or Holy Nights between Christmas +Eve and Twelfth Night. Divination, or the telling of fortunes +by various expedients, is the favourite pastime on these +occasions.] + +VIII + +Tattiana gazed with curious eye +On melted wax in water poured; +The clue unto some mystery +She deemed its outline might afford. +Rings from a dish of water full +In order due the maidens pull; +But when Tattiana's hand had ta'en +A ring she heard the ancient strain: +_The peasants there are rich as kings, +They shovel silver with a spade, +He whom we sing to shall be made +Happy and glorious_. But this brings +With sad refrain misfortune near. +Girls the _kashourka_ much prefer.(52) + +[Note 52: During the "sviatki" it is a common custom for the girls +to assemble around a table on which is placed a dish or basin of +water which contains a ring. Each in her turn extracts the ring +from the basin whilst the remainder sing in chorus the "podbliudni +pessni," or "dish songs" before mentioned. These are popularly +supposed to indicate the fortunes of the immediate holder of the +ring. The first-named lines foreshadow death; the latter, the +"kashourka," or "kitten song," indicates approaching marriage. It +commences thus: "The cat asked the kitten to sleep on the stove."] + +IX + +Frosty the night; the heavens shone; +The wondrous host of heavenly spheres +Sailed silently in unison-- +Tattiana in the yard appears +In a half-open dressing-gown +And bends her mirror on the moon, +But trembling on the mirror dark +The sad moon only could remark. +List! the snow crunches--he draws nigh! +The girl on tiptoe forward bounds +And her voice sweeter than the sounds +Of clarinet or flute doth cry: +"What is your name?" The boor looked dazed, +And "Agathon" replied, amazed.(53) + +[Note 53: The superstition is that the name of the future husband +may thus be discovered.] + +X + +Tattiana (nurse the project planned) +By night prepared for sorcery, +And in the bathroom did command +To lay two covers secretly. +But sudden fear assailed Tattiana, +And I, remembering Svetlana,(54) +Become alarmed. So never mind! +I'm not for witchcraft now inclined. +So she her silken sash unlaced, +Undressed herself and went to bed +And soon Lel hovered o'er her head.(55) +Beneath her downy pillow placed, +A little virgin mirror peeps. +'Tis silent all. Tattiana sleeps. + +[Note 54: See Note 30.] + +[Note 55: Lel, in Slavonic mythology, corresponds to the Morpheus +of the Latins. The word is evidently connected with the verb +"leleyat" to fondle or soothe, likewise with our own word +"to lull."] + +XI + +A dreadful sleep Tattiana sleeps. +She dreamt she journeyed o'er a field +All covered up with snow in heaps, +By melancholy fogs concealed. +Amid the snowdrifts which surround +A stream, by winter's ice unbound, +Impetuously clove its way +With boiling torrent dark and gray; +Two poles together glued by ice, +A fragile bridge and insecure, +Spanned the unbridled torrent o'er; +Beside the thundering abyss +Tattiana in despair unfeigned +Rooted unto the spot remained. + +XII + +As if against obstruction sore +Tattiana o'er the stream complained; +To help her to the other shore +No one appeared to lend a hand. +But suddenly a snowdrift stirs, +And what from its recess appears? +A bristly bear of monstrous size! +He roars, and "Ah!" Tattiana cries. +He offers her his murderous paw; +She nerves herself from her alarm +And leans upon the monster's arm, +With footsteps tremulous with awe +Passes the torrent But alack! +Bruin is marching at her back! + +XIII + +She, to turn back her eyes afraid, +Accelerates her hasty pace, +But cannot anyhow evade +Her shaggy myrmidon in chase. +The bear rolls on with many a grunt: +A forest now she sees in front +With fir-trees standing motionless +In melancholy loveliness, +Their branches by the snow bowed down. +Through aspens, limes and birches bare, +The shining orbs of night appear; +There is no path; the storm hath strewn +Both bush and brake, ravine and steep, +And all in snow is buried deep. + +XIV + +The wood she enters--bear behind,-- +In snow she sinks up to the knee; +Now a long branch itself entwined +Around her neck, now violently +Away her golden earrings tore; +Now the sweet little shoes she wore, +Grown clammy, stick fast in the snow; +Her handkerchief she loses now; +No time to pick it up! afraid, +She hears the bear behind her press, +Nor dares the skirting of her dress +For shame lift up the modest maid. +She runs, the bear upon her trail, +Until her powers of running fail. + +XV + +She sank upon the snow. But Bruin +Adroitly seized and carried her; +Submissive as if in a swoon, +She cannot draw a breath or stir. +He dragged her by a forest road +Till amid trees a hovel showed, +By barren snow heaped up and bound, +A tangled wilderness around. +Bright blazed the window of the place, +Within resounded shriek and shout: +"My chum lives here," Bruin grunts out. +"Warm yourself here a little space!" +Straight for the entrance then he made +And her upon the threshold laid. + +XVI + +Recovering, Tania gazes round; +Bear gone--she at the threshold placed; +Inside clink glasses, cries resound +As if it were some funeral feast. +But deeming all this nonsense pure, +She peeped through a chink of the door. +What doth she see? Around the board +Sit many monstrous shapes abhorred. +A canine face with horns thereon, +Another with cock's head appeared, +Here an old witch with hirsute beard, +There an imperious skeleton; +A dwarf adorned with tail, again +A shape half cat and half a crane. + +XVII + +Yet ghastlier, yet more wonderful, +A crab upon a spider rides, +Perched on a goose's neck a skull +In scarlet cap revolving glides. +A windmill too a jig performs +And wildly waves its arms and storms; +Barking, songs, whistling, laughter coarse, +The speech of man and tramp of horse. +But wide Tattiana oped her eyes +When in that company she saw +Him who inspired both love and awe, +The hero we immortalize. +Oneguine sat the table by +And viewed the door with cunning eye. + +XVIII + +All bustle when he makes a sign: +He drinks, all drink and loudly call; +He smiles, in laughter all combine; +He knits his brows--'tis silent all. +He there is master--that is plain; +Tattiana courage doth regain +And grown more curious by far +Just placed the entrance door ajar. +The wind rose instantly, blew out +The fire of the nocturnal lights; +A trouble fell upon the sprites; +Oneguine lightning glances shot; +Furious he from the table rose; +All arise. To the door he goes. + +XIX + +Terror assails her. Hastily +Tattiana would attempt to fly, +She cannot--then impatiently +She strains her throat to force a cry-- +She cannot--Eugene oped the door +And the young girl appeared before +Those hellish phantoms. Peals arise +Of frantic laughter, and all eyes +And hoofs and crooked snouts and paws, +Tails which a bushy tuft adorns, +Whiskers and bloody tongues and horns, +Sharp rows of tushes, bony claws, +Are turned upon her. All combine +In one great shout: she's mine! she's mine! + +XX + +"Mine!" cried Eugene with savage tone. +The troop of apparitions fled, +And in the frosty night alone +Remained with him the youthful maid. +With tranquil air Oneguine leads +Tattiana to a corner, bids +Her on a shaky bench sit down; +His head sinks slowly, rests upon +Her shoulder--Olga swiftly came-- +And Lenski followed--a light broke-- +His fist Oneguine fiercely shook +And gazed around with eyes of flame; +The unbidden guests he roughly chides-- +Tattiana motionless abides. + +XXI + +The strife grew furious and Eugene +Grasped a long knife and instantly +Struck Lenski dead--across the scene +Dark shadows thicken--a dread cry +Was uttered, and the cabin shook-- +Tattiana terrified awoke. +She gazed around her--it was day. +Lo! through the frozen windows play +Aurora's ruddy rays of light-- +The door flew open--Olga came, +More blooming than the Boreal flame +And swifter than the swallow's flight. +"Come," she cried, "sister, tell me e'en +Whom you in slumber may have seen." + +XXII + +But she, her sister never heeding, +With book in hand reclined in bed, +Page after page continued reading, +But no reply unto her made. +Although her book did not contain +The bard's enthusiastic strain, +Nor precepts sage nor pictures e'en, +Yet neither Virgil nor Racine +Nor Byron, Walter Scott, nor Seneca, +Nor the _Journal des Modes_, I vouch, +Ever absorbed a maid so much: +Its name, my friends, was Martin Zadeka, +The chief of the Chaldean wise, +Who dreams expound and prophecies. + +XXIII + +Brought by a pedlar vagabond +Unto their solitude one day, +This monument of thought profound +Tattiana purchased with a stray +Tome of "Malvina," and but three(56) +And a half rubles down gave she; +Also, to equalise the scales, +She got a book of nursery tales, +A grammar, likewise Petriads two, +Marmontel also, tome the third; +Tattiana every day conferred +With Martin Zadeka. In woe +She consolation thence obtained-- +Inseparable they remained. + +[Note 56: "Malvina," a romance by Madame Cottin.] + +XXIV + +The dream left terror in its train. +Not knowing its interpretation, +Tania the meaning would obtain +Of such a dread hallucination. +Tattiana to the index flies +And alphabetically tries +The words _bear, bridge, fir, darkness, bog, +Raven, snowstorm, tempest, fog, +Et cetera_; but nothing showed +Her Martin Zadeka in aid, +Though the foul vision promise made +Of a most mournful episode, +And many a day thereafter laid +A load of care upon the maid. + +XXV + +"But lo! forth from the valleys dun +With purple hand Aurora leads, +Swift following in her wake, the sun,"(57) +And a grand festival proceeds. +The Larinas were since sunrise +O'erwhelmed with guests; by families +The neighbours come, in sledge approach, +Britzka, kibitka, or in coach. +Crush and confusion in the hall, +Latest arrivals' salutations, +Barking, young ladies' osculations, +Shouts, laughter, jamming 'gainst the wall, +Bows and the scrape of many feet, +Nurses who scream and babes who bleat. + +[Note 57: The above three lines are a parody on the turgid +style of Lomonossoff, a literary man of the second Catherine's +era.] + +XXVI + +Bringing his partner corpulent +Fat Poustiakoff drove to the door; +Gvozdine, a landlord excellent, +Oppressor of the wretched poor; +And the Skatenines, aged pair, +With all their progeny were there, +Who from two years to thirty tell; +Petoushkoff, the provincial swell; +Bouyanoff too, my cousin, wore(58) +His wadded coat and cap with peak +(Surely you know him as I speak); +And Flianoff, pensioned councillor, +Rogue and extortioner of yore, +Now buffoon, glutton, and a bore. + +[Note 58: Pushkin calls Bouyanoff his cousin because he is a +character in the "Dangerous Neighbour," a poem by Vassili +Pushkin, the poet's uncle.] + +XXVII + +The family of Kharlikoff, +Came with Monsieur Triquet, a prig, +Who arrived lately from Tamboff, +In spectacles and chestnut wig. +Like a true Frenchman, couplets wrought +In Tania's praise in pouch he brought, +Known unto children perfectly: +_Reveillez-vouz, belle endormie_. +Among some ancient ballads thrust, +He found them in an almanac, +And the sagacious Triquet back +To light had brought them from their dust, +Whilst he "belle Nina" had the face +By "belle Tattiana" to replace. + +XXVIII + +Lo! from the nearest barrack came, +Of old maids the divinity, +And comfort of each country dame, +The captain of a company. +He enters. Ah! good news to-day! +The military band will play. +The colonel sent it. Oh! delight! +So there will be a dance to-night. +Girls in anticipation skip! +But dinner-time comes. Two and two +They hand in hand to table go. +The maids beside Tattiana keep-- +Men opposite. The cross they sign +And chattering loud sit down to dine. + +XXIX + +Ceased for a space all chattering. +Jaws are at work. On every side +Plates, knives and forks are clattering +And ringing wine-glasses are plied. +But by degrees the crowd begin +To raise a clamour and a din: +They laugh, they argue, and they bawl, +They shout and no one lists at all. +The doors swing open: Lenski makes +His entrance with Oneguine. "Ah! +At last the author!" cries Mamma. +The guests make room; aside each takes +His chair, plate, knife and fork in haste; +The friends are called and quickly placed. + +XXX + +Right opposite Tattiana placed, +She, than the morning moon more pale, +More timid than a doe long chased, +Lifts not her eyes which swimming fail. +Anew the flames of passion start +Within her; she is sick at heart; +The two friends' compliments she hears +Not, and a flood of bitter tears +With effort she restrains. Well nigh +The poor girl fell into a faint, +But strength of mind and self-restraint +Prevailed at last. She in reply +Said something in an undertone +And at the table sat her down. + +XXXI + +To tragedy, the fainting fit, +And female tears hysterical, +Oneguine could not now submit, +For long he had endured them all. +Our misanthrope was full of ire, +At a great feast against desire, +And marking Tania's agitation, +Cast down his eyes in trepidation +And sulked in silent indignation; +Swearing how Lenski he would rile, +Avenge himself in proper style. +Triumphant by anticipation, +Caricatures he now designed +Of all the guests within his mind. + +XXXII + +Certainly not Eugene alone +Tattiana's trouble might have spied, +But that the eyes of every one +By a rich pie were occupied-- +Unhappily too salt by far; +And that a bottle sealed with tar +Appeared, Don's effervescing boast,(59) +Between the blanc-mange and the roast; +Behind, of glasses an array, +Tall, slender, like thy form designed, +Zizi, thou mirror of my mind, +Fair object of my guileless lay, +Seductive cup of love, whose flow +Made me so tipsy long ago! + +[Note 59: The _Donskoe Champanskoe_ is a species of sparkling wine +manufactured in the vicinity of the river Don.] + +XXXIII + +From the moist cork the bottle freed +With loud explosion, the bright wine +Hissed forth. With serious air indeed, +Long tortured by his lay divine, +Triquet arose, and for the bard +The company deep silence guard. +Tania well nigh expired when he +Turned to her and discordantly +Intoned it, manuscript in hand. +Voices and hands applaud, and she +Must bow in common courtesy; +The poet, modest though so grand, +Drank to her health in the first place, +Then handed her the song with grace. + +XXXIV + +Congratulations, toasts resound, +Tattiana thanks to all returned, +But, when Oneguine's turn came round, +The maiden's weary eye which yearned, +Her agitation and distress +Aroused in him some tenderness. +He bowed to her nor silence broke, +But somehow there shone in his look +The witching light of sympathy; +I know not if his heart felt pain +Or if he meant to flirt again, +From habit or maliciously, +But kindness from his eye had beamed +And to revive Tattiana seemed. + +XXXV + +The chairs are thrust back with a roar, +The crowd unto the drawing-room speeds, +As bees who leave their dainty store +And seek in buzzing swarms the meads. +Contented and with victuals stored, +Neighbour by neighbour sat and snored, +Matrons unto the fireplace go, +Maids in the corner whisper low; +Behold! green tables are brought forth, +And testy gamesters do engage +In boston and the game of age, +Ombre, and whist all others worth: +A strong resemblance these possess-- +All sons of mental weariness. + +XXXVI + +Eight rubbers were already played, +Eight times the heroes of the fight +Change of position had essayed, +When tea was brought. 'Tis my delight +Time to denote by dinner, tea, +And supper. In the country we +Can count the time without much fuss-- +The stomach doth admonish us. +And, by the way, I here assert +That for that matter in my verse +As many dinners I rehearse, +As oft to meat and drink advert, +As thou, great Homer, didst of yore, +Whom thirty centuries adore. + +XXXVII + +I will with thy divinity +Contend with knife and fork and platter, +But grant with magnanimity +I'm beaten in another matter; +Thy heroes, sanguinary wights, +Also thy rough-and-tumble fights, +Thy Venus and thy Jupiter, +More advantageously appear +Than cold Oneguine's oddities, +The aspect of a landscape drear. +Or e'en Istomina, my dear, +And fashion's gay frivolities; +But my Tattiana, on my soul, +Is sweeter than thy Helen foul. + +XXXVIII + +No one the contrary will urge, +Though for his Helen Menelaus +Again a century should scourge +Us, and like Trojan warriors slay us; +Though around honoured Priam's throne +Troy's sages should in concert own +Once more, when she appeared in sight, +Paris and Menelaus right. +But as to fighting--'twill appear! +For patience, reader, I must plead! +A little farther please to read +And be not in advance severe. +There'll be a fight. I do not lie. +My word of honour given have I. + +XXXIX + +The tea, as I remarked, appeared, +But scarce had maids their saucers ta'en +When in the grand saloon was heard +Of bassoons and of flutes the strain. +His soul by crash of music fired, +His tea with rum no more desired, +The Paris of those country parts +To Olga Petoushkova darts: +To Tania Lenski; Kharlikova, +A marriageable maid matured, +The poet from Tamboff secured, +Bouyanoff whisked off Poustiakova. +All to the grand saloon are gone-- +The ball in all its splendour shone. + +XL + +I tried when I began this tale, +(See the first canto if ye will), +A ball in Peter's capital, +To sketch ye in Albano's style.(60) +But by fantastic dreams distraught, +My memory wandered wide and sought +The feet of my dear lady friends. +O feet, where'er your path extends +I long enough deceived have erred. +The perfidies I recollect +Should make me much more circumspect, +Reform me both in deed and word, +And this fifth canto ought to be +From such digressions wholly free. + +[Note 60: Francesco Albano, a celebrated painter, styled the "Anacreon +of Painting," was born at Bologna 1578, and died in the year 1666.] + +XLI + +The whirlwind of the waltz sweeps by, +Undeviating and insane +As giddy youth's hilarity-- +Pair after pair the race sustain. +The moment for revenge, meanwhile, +Espying, Eugene with a smile +Approaches Olga and the pair +Amid the company career. +Soon the maid on a chair he seats, +Begins to talk of this and that, +But when two minutes she had sat, +Again the giddy waltz repeats. +All are amazed; but Lenski he +Scarce credits what his eyes can see. + +XLII + +Hark! the mazurka. In times past, +When the mazurka used to peal, +All rattled in the ball-room vast, +The parquet cracked beneath the heel, +And jolting jarred the window-frames. +'Tis not so now. Like gentle dames +We glide along a floor of wax. +However, the mazurka lacks +Nought of its charms original +In country towns, where still it keeps +Its stamping, capers and high leaps. +Fashion is there immutable, +Who tyrannizes us with ease, +Of modern Russians the disease. + +XLIII + +Bouyanoff, wrathful cousin mine, +Unto the hero of this lay +Olga and Tania led. Malign, +Oneguine Olga bore away. +Gliding in negligent career, +He bending whispered in her ear +Some madrigal not worth a rush, +And pressed her hand--the crimson blush +Upon her cheek by adulation +Grew brighter still. But Lenski hath +Seen all, beside himself with wrath, +And hot with jealous indignation, +Till the mazurka's close he stays, +Her hand for the cotillon prays. + +XLIV + +She fears she cannot.--Cannot? Why?-- +She promised Eugene, or she would +With great delight.--O God on high! +Heard he the truth? And thus she could-- +And can it be? But late a child +And now a fickle flirt and wild, +Cunning already to display +And well-instructed to betray! +Lenski the stroke could not sustain, +At womankind he growled a curse, +Departed, ordered out his horse +And galloped home. But pistols twain, +A pair of bullets--nought beside-- +His fate shall presently decide. + + +END OF CANTO THE FIFTH + + + +CANTO THE SIXTH + +The Duel + +'La, sotto giorni nubilosi e brevi, +Nasce una gente a cui 'l morir non duole.' + Petrarch + +Canto The Sixth + +[Mikhailovskoe, 1826: the two final stanzas were, however, +written at Moscow.] + +I + +Having remarked Vladimir's flight, +Oneguine, bored to death again, +By Olga stood, dejected quite +And satisfied with vengeance ta'en. +Olga began to long likewise +For Lenski, sought him with her eyes, +And endless the cotillon seemed +As if some troubled dream she dreamed. +'Tis done. To supper they proceed. +Bedding is laid out and to all +Assigned a lodging, from the hall(61) +Up to the attic, and all need +Tranquil repose. Eugene alone +To pass the night at home hath gone. + +[Note 61: Hospitality is a national virtue of the Russians. On +festal occasions in the country the whole party is usually +accommodated for the night, or indeed for as many nights +as desired, within the house of the entertainer. This of +course is rendered necessary by the great distances which +separate the residences of the gentry. Still, the alacrity with +which a Russian hostess will turn her house topsy-turvy for +the accommodation of forty or fifty guests would somewhat +astonish the mistress of a modern Belgravian mansion.] + +II + +All slumber. In the drawing-room +Loud snores the cumbrous Poustiakoff +With better half as cumbersome; +Gvozdine, Bouyanoff, Petoushkoff +And Flianoff, somewhat indisposed, +On chairs in the saloon reposed, +Whilst on the floor Monsieur Triquet +In jersey and in nightcap lay. +In Olga's and Tattiana's rooms +Lay all the girls by sleep embraced, +Except one by the window placed +Whom pale Diana's ray illumes-- +My poor Tattiana cannot sleep +But stares into the darkness deep. + +III + +His visit she had not awaited, +His momentary loving glance +Her inmost soul had penetrated, +And his strange conduct at the dance +With Olga; nor of this appeared +An explanation: she was scared, +Alarmed by jealous agonies: +A hand of ice appeared to seize(62) +Her heart: it seemed a darksome pit +Beneath her roaring opened wide: +"I shall expire," Tattiana cried, +"But death from him will be delight. +I murmur not! Why mournfulness? +He _cannot_ give me happiness." + +[Note 62: There must be a peculiar appropriateness in this expression +as descriptive of the sensation of extreme cold. Mr. Wallace +makes use of an identical phrase in describing an occasion +when he was frostbitten whilst sledging in Russia. He says +(vol. i. p. 33): "My fur cloak flew open, the cold seemed to +_grasp me in the region of the heart_, and I fell insensible."] + +IV + +Haste, haste thy lagging pace, my story! +A new acquaintance we must scan. +There dwells five versts from Krasnogory, +Vladimir's property, a man +Who thrives this moment as I write, +A philosophic anchorite: +Zaretski, once a bully bold, +A gambling troop when he controlled, +Chief rascal, pot-house president, +Now of a family the head, +Simple and kindly and unwed, +True friend, landlord benevolent, +Yea! and a man of honour, lo! +How perfect doth our epoch grow! + +V + +Time was the flattering voice of fame, +His ruffian bravery adored, +And true, his pistol's faultless aim +An ace at fifteen paces bored. +But I must add to what I write +That, tipsy once in actual fight, +He from his Kalmuck horse did leap +In mud and mire to wallow deep, +Drunk as a fly; and thus the French +A valuable hostage gained, +A modern Regulus unchained, +Who to surrender did not blench +That every morn at Verrey's cost +Three flasks of wine he might exhaust. + +VI + +Time was, his raillery was gay, +He loved the simpleton to mock, +To make wise men the idiot play +Openly or 'neath decent cloak. +Yet sometimes this or that deceit +Encountered punishment complete, +And sometimes into snares as well +Himself just like a greenhorn fell. +He could in disputation shine +With pungent or obtuse retort, +At times to silence would resort, +At times talk nonsense with design; +Quarrels among young friends he bred +And to the field of honour led; + +VII + +Or reconciled them, it may be, +And all the three to breakfast went; +Then he'd malign them secretly +With jest and gossip gaily blent. +_Sed alia tempora_. And bravery +(Like love, another sort of knavery!) +Diminishes as years decline. +But, as I said, Zaretski mine +Beneath acacias, cherry-trees, +From storms protection having sought, +Lived as a really wise man ought, +Like Horace, planted cabbages, +Both ducks and geese in plenty bred +And lessons to his children read. + +VIII + +He was no fool, and Eugene mine, +To friendship making no pretence, +Admired his judgment, which was fine, +Pervaded with much common sense. +He usually was glad to see +The man and liked his company, +So, when he came next day to call, +Was not surprised thereby at all. +But, after mutual compliments, +Zaretski with a knowing grin, +Ere conversation could begin, +The epistle from the bard presents. +Oneguine to the window went +And scanned in silence its content. + +IX + +It was a cheery, generous +Cartel, or challenge to a fight, +Whereto in language courteous +Lenski his comrade did invite. +Oneguine, by first impulse moved, +Turned and replied as it behoved, +Curtly announcing for the fray +That he was "ready any day." +Zaretski rose, nor would explain, +He cared no longer there to stay, +Had much to do at home that day, +And so departed. But Eugene, +The matter by his conscience tried, +Was with himself dissatisfied. + +X + +In fact, the subject analysed, +Within that secret court discussed, +In much his conduct stigmatized; +For, from the outset, 'twas unjust +To jest as he had done last eve, +A timid, shrinking love to grieve. +And ought he not to disregard +The poet's madness? for 'tis hard +At eighteen not to play the fool! +Sincerely loving him, Eugene +Assuredly should not have been +Conventionality's dull tool-- +Not a mere hot, pugnacious boy, +But man of sense and probity. + +XI + +He might his motives have narrated, +Not bristled up like a wild beast, +He ought to have conciliated +That youthful heart--"But, now at least, +The opportunity is flown. +Besides, a duellist well-known +Hath mixed himself in the affair, +Malicious and a slanderer. +Undoubtedly, disdain alone +Should recompense his idle jeers, +But fools--their calumnies and sneers"-- +Behold! the world's opinion!(63) +Our idol, Honour's motive force, +Round which revolves the universe. + +[Note 63: A line of Griboyedoff's. (Woe from Wit.)] + +XII + +Impatient, boiling o'er with wrath, +The bard his answer waits at home, +But lo! his braggart neighbour hath +Triumphant with the answer come. +Now for the jealous youth what joy! +He feared the criminal might try +To treat the matter as a jest, +Use subterfuge, and thus his breast +From the dread pistol turn away. +But now all doubt was set aside, +Unto the windmill he must ride +To-morrow before break of day, +To cock the pistol; barrel bend +On thigh or temple, friend on friend. + +XIII + +Resolved the flirt to cast away, +The foaming Lenski would refuse, +To see his Olga ere the fray-- +His watch, the sun in turn he views-- +Finally tost his arms in air +And lo! he is already there! +He deemed his coming would inspire +Olga with trepidation dire. +He was deceived. Just as before +The miserable bard to meet, +As hope uncertain and as sweet, +Olga ran skipping from the door. +She was as heedless and as gay-- +Well! just as she was yesterday. + +XIV + +"Why did you leave last night so soon?" +Was the first question Olga made, +Lenski, into confusion thrown, +All silently hung down his head. +Jealousy and vexation took +To flight before her radiant look, +Before such fond simplicity +And mental elasticity. +He eyed her with a fond concern, +Perceived that he was still beloved, +Already by repentance moved +To ask forgiveness seemed to yearn; +But trembles, words he cannot find, +Delighted, almost sane in mind. + +XV + +But once more pensive and distressed +Beside his Olga doth he grieve, +Nor enough strength of mind possessed +To mention the foregoing eve, +He mused: "I will her saviour be! +With ardent sighs and flattery +The vile seducer shall not dare +The freshness of her heart impair, +Nor shall the caterpillar come +The lily's stem to eat away, +Nor shall the bud of yesterday +Perish when half disclosed its bloom!"-- +All this, my friends, translate aright: +"I with my friend intend to fight!" + +XVI + +If he had only known the wound +Which rankled in Tattiana's breast, +And if Tattiana mine had found-- +If the poor maiden could have guessed +That the two friends with morning's light +Above the yawning grave would fight,-- +Ah! it may be, affection true +Had reconciled the pair anew! +But of this love, e'en casually, +As yet none had discovered aught; +Eugene of course related nought, +Tattiana suffered secretly; +Her nurse, who could have made a guess, +Was famous for thick-headedness. + +XVII + +Lenski that eve in thought immersed, +Now gloomy seemed and cheerful now, +But he who by the Muse was nursed +Is ever thus. With frowning brow +To the pianoforte he moves +And various chords upon it proves, +Then, eyeing Olga, whispers low: +"I'm happy, say, is it not so?"-- +But it grew late; he must not stay; +Heavy his heart with anguish grew; +To the young girl he said adieu, +As it were, tore himself away. +Gazing into his face, she said: +"What ails thee?"--"Nothing."--He is fled. + +XVIII + +At home arriving he addressed +His care unto his pistols' plight, +Replaced them in their box, undressed +And Schiller read by candlelight. +But one thought only filled his mind, +His mournful heart no peace could find, +Olga he sees before his eyes +Miraculously fair arise, +Vladimir closes up his book, +And grasps a pen: his verse, albeit +With lovers' rubbish filled, was neat +And flowed harmoniously. He took +And spouted it with lyric fire-- +Like D[elvig] when dinner doth inspire. + +XIX + +Destiny hath preserved his lay. +I have it. Lo! the very thing! +"Oh! whither have ye winged your way, +Ye golden days of my young spring? +What will the coming dawn reveal? +In vain my anxious eyes appeal; +In mist profound all yet is hid. +So be it! Just the laws which bid +The fatal bullet penetrate, +Or innocently past me fly. +Good governs all! The hour draws nigh +Of life or death predestinate. +Blest be the labours of the light, +And blest the shadows of the night. + +XX + +"To-morrow's dawn will glimmer gray, +Bright day will then begin to burn, +But the dark sepulchre I may +Have entered never to return. +The memory of the bard, a dream, +Will be absorbed by Lethe's stream; +Men will forget me, but my urn +To visit, lovely maid, return, +O'er my remains to drop a tear, +And think: here lies who loved me well, +For consecrate to me he fell +In the dawn of existence drear. +Maid whom my heart desires alone, +Approach, approach; I am thine own." + +XXI + +Thus in a style _obscure_ and _stale_,(64) +He wrote ('tis the romantic style, +Though of romance therein I fail +To see aught--never mind meanwhile) +And about dawn upon his breast +His weary head declined at rest, +For o'er a word to fashion known, +"Ideal," he had drowsy grown. +But scarce had sleep's soft witchery +Subdued him, when his neighbour stept +Into the chamber where he slept +And wakened him with the loud cry: +"'Tis time to get up! Seven doth strike. +Oneguine waits on us, 'tis like." + +[Note 64: The fact of the above words being italicised suggests +the idea that the poet is here firing a Parthian shot at some +unfriendly critic.] + +XXII + +He was in error; for Eugene +Was sleeping then a sleep like death; +The pall of night was growing thin, +To Lucifer the cock must breathe +His song, when still he slumbered deep, +The sun had mounted high his steep, +A passing snowstorm wreathed away +With pallid light, but Eugene lay +Upon his couch insensibly; +Slumber still o'er him lingering flies. +But finally he oped his eyes +And turned aside the drapery; +He gazed upon the clock which showed +He long should have been on the road. + +XXIII + +He rings in haste; in haste arrives +His Frenchman, good Monsieur Guillot, +Who dressing-gown and slippers gives +And linen on him doth bestow. +Dressing as quickly as he can, +Eugene directs the trusty man +To accompany him and to escort +A box of terrible import. +Harnessed the rapid sledge arrived: +He enters: to the mill he drives: +Descends, the order Guillot gives, +The fatal tubes Lepage contrived(65) +To bring behind: the triple steeds +To two young oaks the coachman leads. + +[Note 65: Lepage--a celebrated gunmaker of former days.] + +XXIV + +Lenski the foeman's apparition +Leaning against the dam expects, +Zaretski, village mechanician, +In the meantime the mill inspects. +Oneguine his excuses says; +"But," cried Zaretski in amaze, +"Your second you have left behind!" +A duellist of classic mind, +Method was dear unto his heart +He would not that a man ye slay +In a lax or informal way, +But followed the strict rules of art, +And ancient usages observed +(For which our praise he hath deserved). + +XXV + +"My second!" cried in turn Eugene, +"Behold my friend Monsieur Guillot; +To this arrangement can be seen, +No obstacle of which I know. +Although unknown to fame mayhap, +He's a straightforward little chap." +Zaretski bit his lip in wrath, +But to Vladimir Eugene saith: +"Shall we commence?"--"Let it be so," +Lenski replied, and soon they be +Behind the mill. Meantime ye see +Zaretski and Monsieur Guillot +In consultation stand aside-- +The foes with downcast eyes abide. + +XXVI + +Foes! Is it long since friendship rent +Asunder was and hate prepared? +Since leisure was together spent, +Meals, secrets, occupations shared? +Now, like hereditary foes, +Malignant fury they disclose, +As in some frenzied dream of fear +These friends cold-bloodedly draw near +Mutual destruction to contrive. +Cannot they amicably smile +Ere crimson stains their hands defile, +Depart in peace and friendly live? +But fashionable hatred's flame +Trembles at artificial shame. + +XXVII + +The shining pistols are uncased, +The mallet loud the ramrod strikes, +Bullets are down the barrels pressed, +For the first time the hammer clicks. +Lo! poured in a thin gray cascade, +The powder in the pan is laid, +The sharp flint, screwed securely on, +Is cocked once more. Uneasy grown, +Guillot behind a pollard stood; +Aside the foes their mantles threw, +Zaretski paces thirty-two +Measured with great exactitude. +At each extreme one takes his stand, +A loaded pistol in his hand. + +XXVIII + +"Advance!"-- + Indifferent and sedate, +The foes, as yet not taking aim, +With measured step and even gait +Athwart the snow four paces came-- +Four deadly paces do they span; +Oneguine slowly then began +To raise his pistol to his eye, +Though he advanced unceasingly. +And lo! five paces more they pass, +And Lenski, closing his left eye, +Took aim--but as immediately +Oneguine fired--Alas! alas! +The poet's hour hath sounded--See! +He drops his pistol silently. + +XXIX + +He on his bosom gently placed +His hand, and fell. His clouded eye +Not agony, but death expressed. +So from the mountain lazily +The avalanche of snow first bends, +Then glittering in the sun descends. +The cold sweat bursting from his brow, +To the youth Eugene hurried now-- +Gazed on him, called him. Useless care! +He was no more! The youthful bard +For evermore had disappeared. +The storm was hushed. The blossom fair +Was withered ere the morning light-- +The altar flame was quenched in night. + +XXX + +Tranquil he lay, and strange to view +The peace which on his forehead beamed, +His breast was riddled through and through, +The blood gushed from the wound and steamed +Ere this but one brief moment beat +That heart with inspiration sweet +And enmity and hope and love-- +The blood boiled and the passions strove. +Now, as in a deserted house, +All dark and silent hath become; +The inmate is for ever dumb, +The windows whitened, shutters close-- +Whither departed is the host? +God knows! The very trace is lost. + +XXXI + +'Tis sweet the foe to aggravate +With epigrams impertinent, +Sweet to behold him obstinate, +His butting horns in anger bent, +The glass unwittingly inspect +And blush to own himself reflect. +Sweeter it is, my friends, if he +Howl like a dolt: 'tis meant for me! +But sweeter still it is to arrange +For him an honourable grave, +At his pale brow a shot to have, +Placed at the customary range; +But home his body to despatch +Can scarce in sweetness be a match. + +XXXII + +Well, if your pistol ball by chance +The comrade of your youth should strike, +Who by a haughty word or glance +Or any trifle else ye like +You o'er your wine insulted hath-- +Or even overcome by wrath +Scornfully challenged you afield-- +Tell me, of sentiments concealed +Which in your spirit dominates, +When motionless your gaze beneath +He lies, upon his forehead death, +And slowly life coagulates-- +When deaf and silent he doth lie +Heedless of your despairing cry? + +XXXIII + +Eugene, his pistol yet in hand +And with remorseful anguish filled, +Gazing on Lenski's corse did stand-- +Zaretski shouted: "Why, he's killed!"-- +Killed! at this dreadful exclamation +Oneguine went with trepidation +And the attendants called in haste. +Most carefully Zaretski placed +Within his sledge the stiffened corse, +And hurried home his awful freight. +Conscious of death approximate, +Loud paws the earth each panting horse, +His bit with foam besprinkled o'er, +And homeward like an arrow tore. + +XXXIV + +My friends, the poet ye regret! +When hope's delightful flower but bloomed +In bud of promise incomplete, +The manly toga scarce assumed, +He perished. Where his troubled dreams, +And where the admirable streams +Of youthful impulse, reverie, +Tender and elevated, free? +And where tempestuous love's desires, +The thirst of knowledge and of fame, +Horror of sinfulness and shame, +Imagination's sacred fires, +Ye shadows of a life more high, +Ye dreams of heavenly poesy? + +XXXV + +Perchance to benefit mankind, +Or but for fame he saw the light; +His lyre, to silence now consigned, +Resounding through all ages might +Have echoed to eternity. +With worldly honours, it may be, +Fortune the poet had repaid. +It may be that his martyred shade +Carried a truth divine away; +That, for the century designed, +Had perished a creative mind, +And past the threshold of decay, +He ne'er shall hear Time's eulogy, +The blessings of humanity. + +XXXVI + +Or, it may be, the bard had passed +A life in common with the rest; +Vanished his youthful years at last, +The fire extinguished in his breast, +In many things had changed his life-- +The Muse abandoned, ta'en a wife, +Inhabited the country, clad +In dressing-gown, a cuckold glad: +A life of fact, not fiction, led-- +At forty suffered from the gout, +Eaten, drunk, gossiped and grown stout: +And finally, upon his bed +Had finished life amid his sons, +Doctors and women, sobs and groans. + +XXXVII + +But, howsoe'er his lot were cast, +Alas! the youthful lover slain, +Poetical enthusiast, +A friendly hand thy life hath ta'en! +There is a spot the village near +Where dwelt the Muses' worshipper, +Two pines have joined their tangled roots, +A rivulet beneath them shoots +Its waters to the neighbouring vale. +There the tired ploughman loves to lie, +The reaping girls approach and ply +Within its wave the sounding pail, +And by that shady rivulet +A simple tombstone hath been set. + +XXXVIII + +There, when the rains of spring we mark +Upon the meadows showering, +The shepherd plaits his shoe of bark,(66) +Of Volga fishermen doth sing, +And the young damsel from the town, +For summer to the country flown, +Whene'er across the plain at speed +Alone she gallops on her steed, +Stops at the tomb in passing by; +The tightened leathern rein she draws, +Aside she casts her veil of gauze +And reads with rapid eager eye +The simple epitaph--a tear +Doth in her gentle eye appear. + +[Note 66: In Russia and other northern countries rude shoes are +made of the inner bark of the lime tree.] + +XXXIX + +And meditative from the spot +She leisurely away doth ride, +Spite of herself with Lenski's lot +Longtime her mind is occupied. +She muses: "What was Olga's fate? +Longtime was her heart desolate +Or did her tears soon cease to flow? +And where may be her sister now? +Where is the outlaw, banned by men, +Of fashionable dames the foe, +The misanthrope of gloomy brow, +By whom the youthful bard was slain?"-- +In time I'll give ye without fail +A true account and in detail. + +XL + +But not at present, though sincerely +I on my chosen hero dote; +Though I'll return to him right early, +Just at this moment I cannot. +Years have inclined me to stern prose, +Years to light rhyme themselves oppose, +And now, I mournfully confess, +In rhyming I show laziness. +As once, to fill the rapid page +My pen no longer finds delight, +Other and colder thoughts affright, +Sterner solicitudes engage, +In worldly din or solitude +Upon my visions such intrude. + +XLI + +Fresh aspirations I have known, +I am acquainted with fresh care, +Hopeless are all the first, I own, +Yet still remains the old despair. +Illusions, dream, where, where your sweetness? +Where youth (the proper rhyme is fleetness)? +And is it true her garland bright +At last is shrunk and withered quite? +And is it true and not a jest, +Not even a poetic phrase, +That vanished are my youthful days +(This joking I used to protest), +Never for me to reappear-- +That soon I reach my thirtieth year? + +XLII + +And so my noon hath come! If so, +I must resign myself, in sooth; +Yet let us part in friendship, O +My frivolous and jolly youth. +I thank thee for thy joyfulness, +Love's tender transports and distress, +For riot, frolics, mighty feeds, +And all that from thy hand proceeds-- +I thank thee. In thy company, +With tumult or contentment still +Of thy delights I drank my fill, +Enough! with tranquil spirit I +Commence a new career in life +And rest from bygone days of strife. + +XLIII + +But pause! Thou calm retreats, farewell, +Where my days in the wilderness +Of languor and of love did tell +And contemplative dreaminess; +And thou, youth's early inspiration, +Invigorate imagination +And spur my spirit's torpid mood! +Fly frequent to my solitude, +Let not the poet's spirit freeze, +Grow harsh and cruel, dead and dry, +Eventually petrify +In the world's mortal revelries, +Amid the soulless sons of pride +And glittering simpletons beside; + +XLIV + +Amid sly, pusillanimous +Spoiled children most degenerate +And tiresome rogues ridiculous +And stupid censors passionate; +Amid coquettes who pray to God +And abject slaves who kiss the rod; +In haunts of fashion where each day +All with urbanity betray, +Where harsh frivolity proclaims +Its cold unfeeling sentences; +Amid the awful emptiness +Of conversation, thought and aims-- +In that morass where you and I +Wallow, my friends, in company! + + +END OF CANTO THE SIXTH + + + +CANTO THE SEVENTH + +Moscow + +Moscow, Russia's darling daughter, +Where thine equal shall we find?' + Dmitrieff + +Who can help loving mother Moscow? + Baratynski (Feasts) + +A journey to Moscow! To see the world! +Where better? + Where man is not. + Griboyedoff (Woe from Wit) + + +Canto The Seventh + +[Written 1827-1828 at Moscow, Mikhailovskoe, St. Petersburg +and Malinniki.] + +I + +Impelled by Spring's dissolving beams, +The snows from off the hills around +Descended swift in turbid streams +And flooded all the level ground. +A smile from slumbering nature clear +Did seem to greet the youthful year; +The heavens shone in deeper blue, +The woods, still naked to the view, +Seemed in a haze of green embowered. +The bee forth from his cell of wax +Flew to collect his rural tax; +The valleys dried and gaily flowered; +Herds low, and under night's dark veil +Already sings the nightingale. + +II + +Mournful is thine approach to me, +O Spring, thou chosen time of love! +What agitation languidly +My spirit and my blood doth move, +What sad emotions o'er me steal +When first upon my cheek I feel +The breath of Spring again renewed, +Secure in rural quietude-- +Or, strange to me is happiness? +Do all things which to mirth incline. +And make a dark existence shine +Inflict annoyance and distress +Upon a soul inert and cloyed?-- +And is all light within destroyed? + +III + +Or, heedless of the leaves' return +Which Autumn late to earth consigned, +Do we alone our losses mourn +Of which the rustling woods remind? +Or, when anew all Nature teems, +Do we foresee in troubled dreams +The coming of life's Autumn drear. +For which no springtime shall appear? +Or, it may be, we inly seek, +Wafted upon poetic wing, +Some other long-departed Spring, +Whose memories make the heart beat quick +With thoughts of a far distant land, +Of a strange night when the moon and-- + +IV + +'Tis now the season! Idlers all, +Epicurean philosophers, +Ye men of fashion cynical, +Of Levshin's school ye followers,(67) +Priams of country populations +And dames of fine organisations, +Spring summons you to her green bowers, +'Tis the warm time of labour, flowers; +The time for mystic strolls which late +Into the starry night extend. +Quick to the country let us wend +In vehicles surcharged with freight; +In coach or post-cart duly placed +Beyond the city-barriers haste. + +[Note 67: Levshin--a contemporary writer on political economy.] + +V + +Thou also, reader generous, +The chaise long ordered please employ, +Abandon cities riotous, +Which in the winter were a joy: +The Muse capricious let us coax, +Go hear the rustling of the oaks +Beside a nameless rivulet, +Where in the country Eugene yet, +An idle anchorite and sad, +A while ago the winter spent, +Near young Tattiana resident, +My pretty self-deceiving maid-- +No more the village knows his face, +For there he left a mournful trace. + +VI + +Let us proceed unto a rill, +Which in a hilly neighbourhood +Seeks, winding amid meadows still, +The river through the linden wood. +The nightingale there all night long, +Spring's paramour, pours forth her song +The fountain brawls, sweetbriers bloom, +And lo! where lies a marble tomb +And two old pines their branches spread-- +"_Vladimir Lenski lies beneath, +Who early died a gallant death_," +Thereon the passing traveller read: +"_The date, his fleeting years how long-- +Repose in peace, thou child of song_." + +VII + +Time was, the breath of early dawn +Would agitate a mystic wreath +Hung on a pine branch earthward drawn +Above the humble urn of death. +Time was, two maidens from their home +At eventide would hither come, +And, by the light the moonbeams gave, +Lament, embrace upon that grave. +But now--none heeds the monument +Of woe: effaced the pathway now: +There is no wreath upon the bough: +Alone beside it, gray and bent, +As formerly the shepherd sits +And his poor basten sandal knits. + +VIII + +My poor Vladimir, bitter tears +Thee but a little space bewept, +Faithless, alas! thy maid appears, +Nor true unto her sorrow kept. +Another could her heart engage, +Another could her woe assuage +By flattery and lover's art-- +A lancer captivates her heart! +A lancer her soul dotes upon: +Before the altar, lo! the pair, +Mark ye with what a modest air +She bows her head beneath the crown;(68) +Behold her downcast eyes which glow, +Her lips where light smiles come and go! + +[Note 68: The crown used in celebrating marriages in Russia +according to the forms of the Eastern Church. See Note 28.] + +IX + +My poor Vladimir! In the tomb, +Passed into dull eternity, +Was the sad poet filled with gloom, +Hearing the fatal perfidy? +Or, beyond Lethe lulled to rest, +Hath the bard, by indifference blest, +Callous to all on earth become-- +Is the world to him sealed and dumb? +The same unmoved oblivion +On us beyond the grave attends, +The voice of lovers, foes and friends, +Dies suddenly: of heirs alone +Remains on earth the unseemly rage, +Whilst struggling for the heritage. + +X + +Soon Olga's accents shrill resound +No longer through her former home; +The lancer, to his calling bound, +Back to his regiment must roam. +The aged mother, bathed in tears, +Distracted by her grief appears +When the hour came to bid good-bye-- +But my Tattiana's eyes were dry. +Only her countenance assumed +A deadly pallor, air distressed; +When all around the entrance pressed, +To say farewell, and fussed and fumed +Around the carriage of the pair-- +Tattiana gently led them there. + +XI + +And long her eyes as through a haze +After the wedded couple strain; +Alas! the friend of childish days +Away, Tattiana, hath been ta'en. +Thy dove, thy darling little pet +On whom a sister's heart was set +Afar is borne by cruel fate, +For evermore is separate. +She wanders aimless as a sprite, +Into the tangled garden goes +But nowhere can she find repose, +Nor even tears afford respite, +Of consolation all bereft-- +Well nigh her heart in twain was cleft. + +XII + +In cruel solitude each day +With flame more ardent passion burns, +And to Oneguine far away +Her heart importunately turns. +She never more his face may view, +For was it not her duty to +Detest him for a brother slain? +The poet fell; already men +No more remembered him; unto +Another his betrothed was given; +The memory of the bard was driven +Like smoke athwart the heaven blue; +Two hearts perchance were desolate +And mourned him still. Why mourn his fate? + +XIII + +'Twas eve. 'Twas dusk. The river speeds +In tranquil flow. The beetle hums. +Already dance to song proceeds; +The fisher's fire afar illumes +The river's bank. Tattiana lone +Beneath the silver of the moon +Long time in meditation deep +Her path across the plain doth keep-- +Proceeds, until she from a hill +Sees where a noble mansion stood, +A village and beneath, a wood, +A garden by a shining rill. +She gazed thereon, and instant beat +Her heart more loudly and more fleet. + +XIV + +She hesitates, in doubt is thrown-- +"Shall I proceed, or homeward flee? +He is not there: I am not known: +The house and garden I would see." +Tattiana from the hill descends +With bated breath, around she bends +A countenance perplexed and scared. +She enters a deserted yard-- +Yelping, a pack of dogs rush out, +But at her shriek ran forth with noise +The household troop of little boys, +Who with a scuffle and a shout +The curs away to kennel chase, +The damsel under escort place. + +XV + +"Can I inspect the mansion, please?" +Tattiana asks, and hurriedly +Unto Anicia for the keys +The family of children hie. +Anicia soon appears, the door +Opens unto her visitor. +Into the lonely house she went, +Wherein a space Oneguine spent. +She gazed--a cue, forgotten long, +Doth on the billiard table rest, +Upon the tumbled sofa placed, +A riding whip. She strolls along. +The beldam saith: "The hearth, by it +The master always used to sit. + +XVI + +"Departed Lenski here to dine +In winter time would often come. +Please follow this way, lady mine, +This is my master's sitting-room. +'Tis here he slept, his coffee took, +Into accounts would sometimes look, +A book at early morn perused. +The room my former master used. +On Sundays by yon window he, +Spectacles upon nose, all day +Was wont with me at cards to play. +God save his soul eternally +And grant his weary bones their rest +Deep in our mother Earth's chill breast!" + +XVII + +Tattiana's eyes with tender gleam +On everything around her gaze, +Of priceless value all things seem +And in her languid bosom raise +A pleasure though with sorrow knit: +The table with its lamp unlit, +The pile of books, with carpet spread +Beneath the window-sill his bed, +The landscape which the moonbeams fret, +The twilight pale which softens all, +Lord Byron's portrait on the wall +And the cast-iron statuette +With folded arms and eyes bent low, +Cocked hat and melancholy brow.(69) + +[Note 69: The Russians not unfrequently adorn their apartments +with effigies of the great Napoleon.] + +XVIII + +Long in this fashionable cell +Tattiana as enchanted stood; +But it grew late; cold blew the gale; +Dark was the valley and the wood +slept o'er the river misty grown. +Behind the mountain sank the moon. +Long, long the hour had past when home +Our youthful wanderer should roam. +She hid the trouble of her breast, +Heaved an involuntary sigh +And turned to leave immediately, +But first permission did request +Thither in future to proceed +That certain volumes she might read. + +XIX + +Adieu she to the matron said +At the front gates, but in brief space +At early morn returns the maid +To the abandoned dwelling-place. +When in the study's calm retreat, +Wrapt in oblivion complete, +She found herself alone at last, +Longtime her tears flowed thick and fast; +But presently she tried to read; +At first for books was disinclined, +But soon their choice seemed to her mind +Remarkable. She then indeed +Devoured them with an eager zest. +A new world was made manifest! + +XX + +Although we know that Eugene had +Long ceased to be a reading man, +Still certain authors, I may add, +He had excepted from the ban: +The bard of Juan and the Giaour, +With it may be a couple more; +Romances three, in which ye scan +Portrayed contemporary man +As the reflection of his age, +His immorality of mind +To arid selfishness resigned, +A visionary personage +With his exasperated sense, +His energy and impotence. + +XXI + +And numerous pages had preserved +The sharp incisions of his nail, +And these the attentive maid observed +With eye precise and without fail. +Tattiana saw with trepidation +By what idea or observation +Oneguine was the most impressed, +In what he merely acquiesced. +Upon those margins she perceived +Oneguine's pencillings. His mind +Made revelations undesigned, +Of what he thought and what believed, +A dagger, asterisk, or note +Interrogation to denote. + +XXII + +And my Tattiana now began +To understand by slow degrees +More clearly, God be praised, the man, +Whom autocratic fate's decrees +Had bid her sigh for without hope-- +A dangerous, gloomy misanthrope, +Being from hell or heaven sent, +Angel or fiend malevolent. +Which is he? or an imitation, +A bogy conjured up in joke, +A Russian in Childe Harold's cloak, +Of foreign whims the impersonation-- +Handbook of fashionable phrase +Or parody of modern ways? + +XXIII + +Hath she found out the riddle yet? +Hath she a fitting phrase selected? +But time flies and she doth forget +They long at home have her expected-- +Whither two neighbouring dames have walked +And a long time about her talked. +"What can be done? She is no child!" +Cried the old dame with anguish filled: +"Olinka is her junior, see. +'Tis time to many her, 'tis true, +But tell me what am I to do? +To all she answers cruelly-- +I will not wed, and ever weeps +And lonely through the forest creeps." + +XXIV + +"Is she in love?" quoth one. "With whom? +Bouyanoff courted. She refused. +Petoushkoff met the selfsame doom. +The hussar Pikhtin was accused. +How the young imp on Tania doted! +To captivate her how devoted! +I mused: perhaps the matter's squared-- +O yes! my hopes soon disappeared." +"But, _matushka_, to Moscow you(70) +Should go, the market for a maid, +With many a vacancy, 'tis said."-- +"Alas! my friend, no revenue!" +"Enough to see one winter's end; +If not, the money I will lend." + +[Note 70: "Matushka," or "little mother," a term of endearment +in constant use amongst Russian females.] + +XXV + +The venerable dame opined +The counsel good and full of reason, +Her money counted, and designed +To visit Moscow in the season. +Tattiana learns the intelligence-- +Of her provincial innocence +The unaffected traits she now +Unto a carping world must show-- +Her toilette's antiquated style, +Her antiquated mode of speech, +For Moscow fops and Circes each +To mark with a contemptuous smile. +Horror! had she not better stay +Deep in the greenwood far away? + +XXVI + +Arising with the morning's light, +Unto the fields she makes her way, +And with emotional delight +Surveying them, she thus doth say: +"Ye peaceful valleys all, good-bye! +Ye well-known mountain summits high, +Ye groves whose depths I know so well, +Thou beauteous sky above, farewell! +Delicious nature, thee I fly, +The calm existence which I prize +I yield for splendid vanities, +Thou too farewell, my liberty! +Whither and wherefore do I speed +And what will Destiny concede?" + +XXVII + +Farther Tattiana's walks extend-- +'Tis now the hillock now the rill +Their natural attractions lend +To stay the maid against her will. +She the acquaintances she loves, +Her spacious fields and shady groves, +Another visit hastes to pay. +But Summer swiftly fades away +And golden Autumn draweth nigh, +And pallid nature trembling grieves, +A victim decked with golden leaves; +Dark clouds before the north wind fly; +It blew: it howled: till winter e'en +Came forth in all her magic sheen. + +XXVIII + +The snow descends and buries all, +Hangs heavy on the oaken boughs, +A white and undulating pall +O'er hillock and o'er meadow throws. +The channel of the river stilled +As if with eider-down is filled. +The hoar-frost glitters: all rejoice +In mother Winter's strange caprice. +But Tania's heart is not at ease, +Winter's approach she doth not hail +Nor the frost particles inhale +Nor the first snow of winter seize +Her shoulders, breast and face to lave-- +Alarm the winter journey gave. + +XXIX + +The date was fixed though oft postponed, +But ultimately doth approach. +Examined, mended, newly found +Was the old and forgotten coach; +Kibitkas three, the accustomed train,(71) +The household property contain: +Saucepans and mattresses and chairs, +Portmanteaus and preserves in jars, +Feather-beds, also poultry-coops, +Basins and jugs--well! everything +To happiness contributing. +Behold! beside their dwelling groups +Of serfs the farewell wail have given. +Nags eighteen to the door are driven. + +[Note 71: In former times, and to some extent the practice still +continues to the present day, Russian families were wont to +travel with every necessary of life, and, in the case of the +wealthy, all its luxuries following in their train. As the +poet complains in a subsequent stanza there were no inns; +and if the simple Larinas required such ample store of creature +comforts the impediments accompanying a great noble on his +journeys may be easily conceived.] + +XXX + +These to the coach of state are bound, +Breakfast the busy cooks prepare, +Baggage is heaped up in a mound, +Old women at the coachmen swear. +A bearded postillion astride +A lean and shaggy nag doth ride, +Unto the gates the servants fly +To bid the gentlefolk good-bye. +These take their seats; the coach of state +Leisurely through the gateway glides. +"Adieu! thou home where peace abides, +Where turmoil cannot penetrate, +Shall I behold thee once again?"-- +Tattiana tears cannot restrain. + +XXXI + +The limits of enlightenment +When to enlarge we shall succeed, +In course of time (the whole extent +Will not five centuries exceed +By computation) it is like +Our roads transformed the eye will strike; +Highways all Russia will unite +And form a network left and right; +On iron bridges we shall gaze +Which o'er the waters boldly leap, +Mountains we'll level and through deep +Streams excavate subaqueous ways, +And Christian folk will, I expect, +An inn at every stage erect. + +XXXII + +But now, what wretched roads one sees, +Our bridges long neglected rot, +And at the stages bugs and fleas +One moment's slumber suffer not. +Inns there are none. Pretentious but +Meagre, within a draughty hut, +A bill of fare hangs full in sight +And irritates the appetite. +Meantime a Cyclops of those parts +Before a fire which feebly glows +Mends with the Russian hammer's blows +The flimsy wares of Western marts, +With blessings on the ditches and +The ruts of his own fatherland. + +XXXIII + +Yet on a frosty winter day +The journey in a sledge doth please, +No senseless fashionable lay +Glides with a more luxurious ease; +For our Automedons are fire +And our swift troikas never tire; +The verst posts catch the vacant eye +And like a palisade flit by.(72) +The Larinas unwisely went, +From apprehension of the cost, +By their own horses, not the post-- +So Tania to her heart's content +Could taste the pleasures of the road. +Seven days and nights the travellers plod. + +[Note 72: This somewhat musty joke has appeared in more than one +national costume. Most Englishmen, if we were to replace +verst-posts with milestones and substitute a graveyard for +a palisade, would instantly recognize its Yankee extraction. +In Russia however its origin is as ancient at least as the +reign of Catherine the Second. The witticism ran thus: A +courier sent by Prince Potemkin to the Empress drove so +fast that his sword, projecting from the vehicle, rattled +against the verst-posts as if against a palisade!] + +XXXIV + +But they draw near. Before them, lo! +White Moscow raises her old spires, +Whose countless golden crosses glow +As with innumerable fires.(73) +Ah! brethren, what was my delight +When I yon semicircle bright +Of churches, gardens, belfries high +Descried before me suddenly! +Moscow, how oft in evil days, +Condemned to exile dire by fate, +On thee I used to meditate! +Moscow! How much is in the phrase +For every loyal Russian breast! +How much is in that word expressed! + +[Note 73: The aspect of Moscow, especially as seen from the Sparrow +Hills, a low range bordering the river Moskva at a short distance +from the city, is unique and splendid. It possesses several domes +completely plated with gold and some twelve hundred spires most of +which are surmounted by a golden cross. At the time of sunset they +seem literally tipped with flame. It was from this memorable spot +that Napoleon and the Grand Army first obtained a glimpse at the +city of the Tsars. There are three hundred and seventy churches in +Moscow. The Kremlin itself is however by far the most interesting +object to the stranger.] + +XXXV + +Lo! compassed by his grove of oaks, +Petrovski Palace! Gloomily +His recent glory he invokes. +Here, drunk with his late victory, +Napoleon tarried till it please +Moscow approach on bended knees, +Time-honoured Kremlin's keys present. +Not so! My Moscow never went +To seek him out with bended head. +No gift she bears, no feast proclaims, +But lights incendiary flames +For the impatient chief instead. +From hence engrossed in thought profound +He on the conflagration frowned.(74) + +[Note 74: Napoleon on his arrival in Moscow on the 14th September +took up his quarters in the Kremlin, but on the 16th had to +remove to the Petrovski Palace or Castle on account of the +conflagration which broke out in all quarters of the city. He +however returned to the Kremlin on the 19th September. The Palace +itself is placed in the midst of extensive grounds just outside +the city, on the road to Tver, i.e. to the northwest. It is +perhaps worthy of remark, as one amongst numerous circumstances +proving how extensively the poet interwove his own life-experiences +with the plot of this poem, that it was by this road that he +himself must have been in the habit of approaching Moscow from his +favourite country residence of Mikhailovskoe, in the province of +Pskoff.] + +XXXVI + +Adieu, thou witness of our glory, +Petrovski Palace; come, astir! +Drive on! the city barriers hoary +Appear; along the road of Tver +The coach is borne o'er ruts and holes, +Past women, sentry-boxes, rolls, +Past palaces and nunneries, +Lamp-posts, shops, sledges, families, +Bokharians, peasants, beds of greens, +Boulevards, belfries, milliners, +Huts, chemists, Cossacks, shopkeepers +And fashionable magazines, +Balconies, lion's heads on doors, +Jackdaws on every spire--in scores.(75) + +[Note 75: The first line refers to the prevailing shape of the +cast-iron handles which adorn the _porte cocheres_. The +Russians are fond of tame birds--jackdaws, pigeons, starlings, +etc., abound in Moscow and elsewhere.] + +XXXVII + +The weary way still incomplete, +An hour passed by--another--till, +Near Khariton's in a side street +The coach before a house stood still. +At an old aunt's they had arrived +Who had for four long years survived +An invalid from lung complaint. +A Kalmuck gray, in caftan rent +And spectacles, his knitting staid +And the saloon threw open wide; +The princess from the sofa cried +And the newcomers welcome bade. +The two old ladies then embraced +And exclamations interlaced. + +XXXVIII + +"Princesse, mon ange!"--"Pachette!"-- +"Aline!" +"Who would have thought it? As of yore! +Is it for long?"--"Ma chere cousine!" +"Sit down. How funny, to be sure! +'Tis a scene of romance, I vow!" +"Tania, my eldest child, you know"-- +"Ah! come, Tattiana, come to me! +Is it a dream, and can it be? +Cousin, rememb'rest Grandison?" +"What! Grandison?"--"Yes, certainly!" +"Oh! I remember, where is he?"-- +"Here, he resides with Simeon. +He called upon me Christmas Eve-- +His son is married, just conceive!" + +XXXIX + +"And he--but of him presently-- +To-morrow Tania we will show, +What say you? to the family-- +Alas! abroad I cannot go. +See, I can hardly crawl about-- +But you must both be quite tired out! +Let us go seek a little rest-- +Ah! I'm so weak--my throbbing breast! +Oppressive now is happiness, +Not only sorrow--Ah! my dear, +Now I am fit for nothing here. +In old age life is weariness!" +Then weeping she sank back distressed +And fits of coughing racked her chest. + +XL + +By the sick lady's gaiety +And kindness Tania was impressed, +But, her own room in memory, +The strange apartment her oppressed: +Repose her silken curtains fled, +She could not sleep in her new bed. +The early tinkling of the bells +Which of approaching labour tells +Aroused Tattiana from her bed. +The maiden at her casement sits +As daylight glimmers, darkness flits, +But ah! discerns nor wood nor mead-- +Beneath her lay a strange courtyard, +A stable, kitchen, fence appeared. + +XLI + +To consanguineous dinners they +Conduct Tattiana constantly, +That grandmothers and grandsires may +Contemplate her sad reverie. +We Russians, friends from distant parts +Ever receive with kindly hearts +And exclamations and good cheer. +"How Tania grows! Doth it appear" +"Long since I held thee at the font-- +Since in these arms I thee did bear-- +And since I pulled thee by the ear-- +And I to give thee cakes was wont?"-- +Then the old dames in chorus sing, +"Oh! how our years are vanishing!" + +XLII + +But nothing changed in them is seen, +All in the good old style appears, +Our dear old aunt, Princess Helene, +Her cap of tulle still ever wears: +Luceria Lvovna paint applies, +Amy Petrovna utters lies, +Ivan Petrovitch still a gaby, +Simeon Petrovitch just as shabby; +Pelagie Nikolavna has +Her friend Monsieur Finemouche the same, +Her wolf-dog and her husband tame; +Still of his club he member was-- +As deaf and silly doth remain, +Still eats and drinks enough for twain. + +XLIII + +Their daughters kiss Tattiana fair. +In the beginning, cold and mute, +Moscow's young Graces at her stare, +Examine her from head to foot. +They deem her somewhat finical, +Outlandish and provincial, +A trifle pale, a trifle lean, +But plainer girls they oft had seen. +Obedient then to Nature's law, +With her they did associate, +Squeeze tiny hands and osculate; +Her tresses curled in fashion saw, +And oft in whispers would impart +A maiden's secrets--of the heart. + +XLIV + +Triumphs--their own or those of friends-- +Hopes, frolics, dreams and sentiment +Their harmless conversation blends +With scandal's trivial ornament. +Then to reward such confidence +Her amorous experience +With mute appeal to ask they seem-- +But Tania just as in a dream +Without participation hears, +Their voices nought to her impart +And the lone secret of her heart, +Her sacred hoard of joy and tears, +She buries deep within her breast +Nor aught confides unto the rest. + +XLV + +Tattiana would have gladly heard +The converse of the world polite, +But in the drawing-room all appeared +To find in gossip such delight, +Speech was so tame and colourless +Their slander e'en was weariness; +In their sterility of prattle, +Questions and news and tittle-tattle, +No sense was ever manifest +Though by an error and unsought-- +The languid mind could smile at nought, +Heart would not throb albeit in jest-- +Even amusing fools we miss +In thee, thou world of empty bliss. + +XLVI + +In groups, official striplings glance +Conceitedly on Tania fair, +And views amongst themselves advance +Unfavourable unto her. +But one buffoon unhappy deemed +Her the ideal which he dreamed, +And leaning 'gainst the portal closed +To her an elegy composed. +Also one Viazemski, remarking +Tattiana by a poor aunt's side, +Successfully to please her tried, +And an old gent the poet marking +By Tania, smoothing his peruke, +To ask her name the trouble took.(76) + +[Note 76: One of the obscure satirical allusions contained in this +poem. Doubtless the joke was perfectly intelligible to the +_habitues_ of contemporary St. Petersburg society. Viazemski of +course is the poet and prince, Pushkin's friend.] + +XLVII + +But where Melpomene doth rave +With lengthened howl and accent loud, +And her bespangled robe doth wave +Before a cold indifferent crowd, +And where Thalia softly dreams +And heedless of approval seems, +Terpsichore alone among +Her sisterhood delights the young +(So 'twas with us in former years, +In your young days and also mine), +Never upon my heroine +The jealous dame her lorgnette veers, +The connoisseur his glances throws +From boxes or from stalls in rows. + +XLVIII + +To the assembly her they bear. +There the confusion, pressure, heat, +The crash of music, candles' glare +And rapid whirl of many feet, +The ladies' dresses airy, light, +The motley moving mass and bright, +Young ladies in a vasty curve, +To strike imagination serve. +'Tis there that arrant fops display +Their insolence and waistcoats white +And glasses unemployed all night; +Thither hussars on leave will stray +To clank the spur, delight the fair-- +And vanish like a bird in air. + +XLIX + +Full many a lovely star hath night +And Moscow many a beauty fair: +Yet clearer shines than every light +The moon in the blue atmosphere. +And she to whom my lyre would fain, +Yet dares not, dedicate its strain, +Shines in the female firmament +Like a full moon magnificent. +Lo! with what pride celestial +Her feet the earth beneath her press! +Her heart how full of gentleness, +Her glance how wild yet genial! +Enough, enough, conclude thy lay-- +For folly's dues thou hadst to pay. + +L + +Noise, laughter, bowing, hurrying mixt, +Gallop, mazurka, waltzing--see! +A pillar by, two aunts betwixt, +Tania, observed by nobody, +Looks upon all with absent gaze +And hates the world's discordant ways. +'Tis noisome to her there: in thought +Again her rural life she sought, +The hamlet, the poor villagers, +The little solitary nook +Where shining runs the tiny brook, +Her garden, and those books of hers, +And the lime alley's twilight dim +Where the first time she met with _him_. + +LI + +Thus widely meditation erred, +Forgot the world, the noisy ball, +Whilst from her countenance ne'er stirred +The eyes of a grave general. +Both aunts looked knowing as a judge, +Each gave Tattiana's arm a nudge +And in a whisper did repeat: +"Look quickly to your left, my sweet!" +"The left? Why, what on earth is there?"-- +"No matter, look immediately. +There, in that knot of company, +Two dressed in uniform appear-- +Ah! he has gone the other way"-- +"Who? Is it that stout general, pray?"-- + +LII + +Let us congratulations pay +To our Tattiana conquering, +And for a time our course delay, +That I forget not whom I sing. +Let me explain that in my song +"I celebrate a comrade young +And the extent of his caprice; +O epic Muse, my powers increase +And grant success to labour long; +Having a trusty staff bestowed, +Grant that I err not on the road." +Enough! my pack is now unslung-- +To classicism I've homage paid, +Though late, have a beginning made.(77) + +[Note 77: Many will consider this mode of bringing the canto +to a conclusion of more than doubtful taste. The poet evidently +aims a stroke at the pedantic and narrow-minded criticism to +which original genius, emancipated from the strait-waistcoat of +conventionality, is not unfrequently subjected.] + + +End of Canto The Seventh + + + +CANTO THE EIGHTH + +The Great World + +'Fare thee well, and if for ever, +Still for ever fare thee well.'--Byron + + +Canto the Eighth + +[St. Petersburg, Boldino, Tsarskoe Selo, 1880-1881] + + +I + +In the Lyceum's noiseless shade +As in a garden when I grew, +I Apuleius gladly read +But would not look at Cicero. +'Twas then in valleys lone, remote, +In spring-time, heard the cygnet's note +By waters shining tranquilly, +That first the Muse appeared to me. +Into the study of the boy +There came a sudden flash of light, +The Muse revealed her first delight, +Sang childhood's pastimes and its joy, +Glory with which our history teems +And the heart's agitated dreams. + +II + +And the world met her smilingly, +A first success light pinions gave, +The old Derjavine noticed me, +And blest me, sinking to the grave.(78) +Then my companions young with pleasure +In the unfettered hours of leisure +Her utterances ever heard, +And by a partial temper stirred +And boiling o'er with friendly heat, +They first of all my brow did wreathe +And an encouragement did breathe +That my coy Muse might sing more sweet. +O triumphs of my guileless days, +How sweet a dream your memories raise! + +[Note 78: This touching scene produced a lasting impression on +Pushkin's mind. It took place at a public examination at +the Lyceum, on which occasion the boy poet produced a poem. The +incident recalls the "Mon cher Tibulle" of Voltaire and the +youthful Parny (see Note 42). Derjavine flourished during the +reigns of Catherine the Second and Alexander the First. His +poems are stiff and formal in style and are not much thought of +by contemporary Russians. But a century back a very infinitesimal +endowment of literary ability was sufficient to secure imperial +reward and protection, owing to the backward state of the empire. +Stanza II properly concludes with this line, the remainder having +been expunged either by the author himself or the censors. I have +filled up the void with lines from a fragment left by the author +having reference to this canto.] + +III + +Passion's wild sway I then allowed, +Her promptings unto law did make, +Pursuits I followed of the crowd, +My sportive Muse I used to take +To many a noisy feast and fight, +Terror of guardians of the night; +And wild festivities among +She brought with her the gift of song. +Like a Bacchante in her sport +Beside the cup she sang her rhymes +And the young revellers of past times +Vociferously paid her court, +And I, amid the friendly crowd, +Of my light paramour was proud. + +IV + +But I abandoned their array, +And fled afar--she followed me. +How oft the kindly Muse away +Hath whiled the road's monotony, +Entranced me by some mystic tale. +How oft beneath the moonbeams pale +Like Leonora did she ride(79) +With me Caucasian rocks beside! +How oft to the Crimean shore +She led me through nocturnal mist +Unto the sounding sea to list, +Where Nereids murmur evermore, +And where the billows hoarsely raise +To God eternal hymns of praise. + +[Note 79: See Note 30, "Leonora," a poem by Gottfried Augustus +Burger, b. 1748, d. 1794.] + +V + +Then, the far capital forgot, +Its splendour and its blandishments, +In poor Moldavia cast her lot, +She visited the humble tents +Of migratory gipsy hordes-- +And wild among them grew her words-- +Our godlike tongue she could exchange +For savage speech, uncouth and strange, +And ditties of the steppe she loved. +But suddenly all changed around! +Lo! in my garden was she found +And as a country damsel roved, +A pensive sorrow in her glance +And in her hand a French romance. + +VI + +Now for the first time I my Muse +Lead into good society, +Her steppe-like beauties I peruse +With jealous fear, anxiety. +Through dense aristocratic rows +Of diplomats and warlike beaux +And supercilious dames she glides, +Sits down and gazes on all sides-- +Amazed at the confusing crowd, +Variety of speech and vests, +Deliberate approach of guests +Who to the youthful hostess bowed, +And the dark fringe of men, like frames +Enclosing pictures of fair dames. + +VII + +Assemblies oligarchical +Please her by their decorum fixed, +The rigour of cold pride and all +Titles and ages intermixed. +But who in that choice company +With clouded brow stands silently? +Unknown to all he doth appear, +A vision desolate and drear +Doth seem to him the festal scene. +Doth his brow wretchedness declare +Or suffering pride? Why is he there? +Who may he be? Is it Eugene? +Pray is it he? It is the same. +"And is it long since back he came? + +VIII + +"Is he the same or grown more wise? +Still doth the misanthrope appear? +He has returned, say in what guise? +What is his latest character? +What doth he act? Is it Melmoth,(80) +Philanthropist or patriot, +Childe Harold, quaker, devotee, +Or other mask donned playfully? +Or a good fellow for the nonce, +Like you and me and all the rest?-- +But this is my advice, 'twere best +Not to behave as he did once-- +Society he duped enow." +"Is he known to you?"--"Yes and No." + +[Note 80: A romance by Maturin.] + +IX + +Wherefore regarding him express +Perverse, unfavourable views? +Is it that human restlessness +For ever carps, condemns, pursues? +Is it that ardent souls of flame +By recklessness amuse or shame +Selfish nonentities around? +That mind which yearns for space is bound? +And that too often we receive +Professions eagerly for deeds, +That crass stupidity misleads, +That we by cant ourselves deceive, +That mediocrity alone +Without disgust we look upon? + +X + +Happy he who in youth was young, +Happy who timely grew mature, +He who life's frosts which early wrung +Hath gradually learnt to endure; +By visions who was ne'er deranged +Nor from the mob polite estranged, +At twenty who was prig or swell, +At thirty who was married well, +At fifty who relief obtained +From public and from private ties, +Who glory, wealth and dignities +Hath tranquilly in turn attained, +And unto whom we all allude +As to a worthy man and good! + +XI + +But sad is the reflection made, +In vain was youth by us received, +That we her constantly betrayed +And she at last hath us deceived; +That our desires which noblest seemed, +The purest of the dreams we dreamed, +Have one by one all withered grown +Like rotten leaves by Autumn strown-- +'Tis fearful to anticipate +Nought but of dinners a long row, +To look on life as on a show, +Eternally to imitate +The seemly crowd, partaking nought +Its passions and its modes of thought. + +XII + +The butt of scandal having been, +'Tis dreadful--ye agree, I hope-- +To pass with reasonable men +For a fictitious misanthrope, +A visionary mortified, +Or monster of Satanic pride, +Or e'en the "Demon" of my strain.(81) +Oneguine--take him up again-- +In duel having killed his friend +And reached, with nought his mind to engage, +The twenty-sixth year of his age, +Wearied of leisure in the end, +Without profession, business, wife, +He knew not how to spend his life. + +[Note 81: The "Demon," a short poem by Pushkin which at its first +appearance created some excitement in Russian society. A more +appropriate, or at any rate explanatory title, would have been +the _Tempter_. It is descriptive of the first manifestation of +doubt and cynicism in his youthful mind, allegorically as the +visits of a "demon." Russian society was moved to embody this +imaginary demon in the person of a certain friend of Pushkin's. +This must not be confounded with Lermontoff's poem bearing the +same title upon which Rubinstein's new opera, "Il Demonio," is +founded.] + +XIII + +Him a disquietude did seize, +A wish from place to place to roam, +A very troublesome disease, +In some a willing martyrdom. +Abandoned he his country seat, +Of woods and fields the calm retreat, +Where every day before his eyes +A blood-bespattered shade would rise, +And aimless journeys did commence-- +But still remembrance to him clings, +His travels like all other things +Inspired but weariness intense; +Returning, from his ship amid +A ball he fell as Tchatzki did.(82) + +[Note 82: Tchatzki, one of the principal characters in Griboyedoff's +celebrated comedy "Woe from Wit" (_Gore ot Ouma_).] + +XIV + +Behold, the crowd begins to stir, +A whisper runs along the hall, +A lady draws the hostess near, +Behind her a grave general. +Her manners were deliberate, +Reserved, but not inanimate, +Her eyes no saucy glance address, +There was no angling for success. +Her features no grimaces bleared; +Of affectation innocent, +Calm and without embarrassment, +A faithful model she appeared +Of "comme il faut." Shishkoff, forgive! +I can't translate the adjective.(83) + +[Note 83: Shishkoff was a member of the literary school which +cultivated the vernacular as opposed to the _Arzamass_ or +Gallic school, to which the poet himself and his uncle Vassili +Pushkin belonged. He was admiral, author, and minister of +education.] + +XV + +Ladies in crowds around her close, +Her with a smile old women greet, +The men salute with lower bows +And watch her eye's full glance to meet. +Maidens before her meekly move +Along the hall, and high above +The crowd doth head and shoulders rise +The general who accompanies. +None could her beautiful declare, +Yet viewing her from head to foot, +None could a trace of that impute, +Which in the elevated sphere +Of London life is "vulgar" called +And ruthless fashion hath blackballed. + +XVI + +I like this word exceedingly +Although it will not bear translation, +With us 'tis quite a novelty +Not high in general estimation; +'Twould serve ye in an epigram-- +But turn we once more to our dame. +Enchanting, but unwittingly, +At table she was sitting by +The brilliant Nina Voronskoi, +The Neva's Cleopatra, and +None the conviction could withstand +That Nina's marble symmetry, +Though dazzling its effulgence white, +Could not eclipse her neighbour's light. + +XVII + +"And is it," meditates Eugene. +"And is it she? It must be--no-- +How! from the waste of steppes unseen,"-- +And the eternal lorgnette through +Frequent and rapid doth his glance +Seek the forgotten countenance +Familiar to him long ago. +"Inform me, prince, pray dost thou know +The lady in the crimson cap +Who with the Spanish envoy speaks?"-- +The prince's eye Oneguine seeks: +"Ah! long the world hath missed thy shape! +But stop! I will present thee, if +You choose."--"But who is she?"--"My wife." + +XVIII + +"So thou art wed! I did not know. +Long ago?"--"'Tis the second year." +"To--?"--"Larina."--"Tattiana?"--"So. +And dost thou know her?"--"We live near." +"Then come with me." The prince proceeds, +His wife approaches, with him leads +His relative and friend as well. +The lady's glance upon him fell-- +And though her soul might be confused, +And vehemently though amazed +She on the apparition gazed, +No signs of trouble her accused, +A mien unaltered she preserved, +Her bow was easy, unreserved. + +XIX + +Ah no! no faintness her attacked +Nor sudden turned she red or white, +Her brow she did not e'en contract +Nor yet her lip compressed did bite. +Though he surveyed her at his ease, +Not the least trace Oneguine sees +Of the Tattiana of times fled. +He conversation would have led-- +But could not. Then she questioned him:-- +"Had he been long here, and where from? +Straight from their province had he come?"-- +Cast upwards then her eyeballs dim +Unto her husband, went away-- +Transfixed Oneguine mine doth stay. + +XX + +Is this the same Tattiana, say, +Before whom once in solitude, +In the beginning of this lay, +Deep in the distant province rude, +Impelled by zeal for moral worth, +He salutary rules poured forth? +The maid whose note he still possessed +Wherein the heart its vows expressed, +Where all upon the surface lies,-- +That girl--but he must dreaming be-- +That girl whom once on a time he +Could in a humble sphere despise, +Can she have been a moment gone +Thus haughty, careless in her tone? + +XXI + +He quits the fashionable throng +And meditative homeward goes, +Visions, now sad, now grateful, long +Do agitate his late repose. +He wakes--they with a letter come-- +The Princess N. will be at home +On such a day. O Heavens, 'tis she! +Oh! I accept. And instantly +He a polite reply doth scrawl. +What hath he dreamed? What hath occurred? +In the recesses what hath stirred +Of a heart cold and cynical? +Vexation? Vanity? or strove +Again the plague of boyhood--love? + +XXII + +The hours once more Oneguine counts, +Impatient waits the close of day, +But ten strikes and his sledge he mounts +And gallops to her house away. +Trembling he seeks the young princess-- +Tattiana finds in loneliness. +Together moments one or two +They sat, but conversation's flow +Deserted Eugene. He, distraught, +Sits by her gloomily, desponds, +Scarce to her questions he responds, +Full of exasperating thought. +He fixedly upon her stares-- +She calm and unconcerned appears. + +XXIII + +The husband comes and interferes +With this unpleasant _tete-a-tete_, +With Eugene pranks of former years +And jests doth recapitulate. +They talked and laughed. The guests arrived. +The conversation was revived +By the coarse wit of worldly hate; +But round the hostess scintillate +Light sallies without coxcombry, +Awhile sound conversation seems +To banish far unworthy themes +And platitudes and pedantry, +And never was the ear affright +By liberties or loose or light. + +XXIV + +And yet the city's flower was there, +Noblesse and models of the mode, +Faces which we meet everywhere +And necessary fools allowed. +Behold the dames who once were fine +With roses, caps and looks malign; +Some marriageable maids behold, +Blank, unapproachable and cold. +Lo, the ambassador who speaks +Economy political, +And with gray hair ambrosial +The old man who has had his freaks, +Renowned for his acumen, wit, +But now ridiculous a bit. + +XXV + +Behold Sabouroff, whom the age +For baseness of the spirit scorns, +Saint Priest, who every album's page +With blunted pencil-point adorns. +Another tribune of the ball +Hung like a print against the wall, +Pink as Palm Sunday cherubim,(84) +Motionless, mute, tight-laced and trim. +The traveller, bird of passage he, +Stiff, overstarched and insolent, +Awakens secret merriment +By his embarrassed dignity-- +Mute glances interchanged aside +Meet punishment for him provide. + +[Note 84: On Palm Sunday the Russians carry branches, or used to +do so. These branches were adorned with little painted pictures +of cherubs with the ruddy complexions of tradition. Hence the +comparison.] + +XXVI + +But my Oneguine the whole eve +Within his mind Tattiana bore, +Not the young timid maid, believe, +Enamoured, simple-minded, poor, +But the indifferent princess, +Divinity without access +Of the imperial Neva's shore. +O Men, how very like ye are +To Eve the universal mother, +Possession hath no power to please, +The serpent to unlawful trees +Aye bids ye in some way or other-- +Unless forbidden fruit we eat, +Our paradise is no more sweet. + +XXVII + +Ah! how Tattiana was transformed, +How thoroughly her part she took! +How soon to habits she conformed +Which crushing dignity must brook! +Who would the maiden innocent +In the unmoved, magnificent +Autocrat of the drawing-room seek? +And he had made her heart beat quick! +'Twas he whom, amid nightly shades, +Whilst Morpheus his approach delays, +She mourned and to the moon would raise +The languid eye of love-sick maids, +Dreaming perchance in weal or woe +To end with him her path below. + +XXVIII + +To Love all ages lowly bend, +But the young unpolluted heart +His gusts should fertilize, amend, +As vernal storms the fields athwart. +Youth freshens beneath Passion's showers, +Develops and matures its powers, +And thus in season the rich field +Gay flowers and luscious fruit doth yield. +But at a later, sterile age, +The solstice of our earthly years, +Mournful Love's deadly trace appears +As storms which in chill autumn rage +And leave a marsh the fertile ground +And devastate the woods around. + +XXIX + +There was no doubt! Eugene, alas! +Tattiana loved as when a lad, +Both day and night he now must pass +In love-lorn meditation sad. +Careless of every social rule, +The crystals of her vestibule +He daily in his drives drew near +And like a shadow haunted her. +Enraptured was he if allowed +To swathe her shoulders in the furs, +If his hot hand encountered hers, +Or he dispersed the motley crowd +Of lackeys in her pathway grouped, +Or to pick up her kerchief stooped. + +XXX + +She seemed of him oblivious, +Despite the anguish of his breast, +Received him freely at her house, +At times three words to him addressed +In company, or simply bowed, +Or recognized not in the crowd. +No coquetry was there, I vouch-- +Society endures not such! +Oneguine's cheek grew ashy pale, +Either she saw not or ignored; +Oneguine wasted; on my word, +Already he grew phthisical. +All to the doctors Eugene send, +And they the waters recommend. + +XXXI + +He went not--sooner was prepared +To write his forefathers to warn +Of his approach; but nothing cared +Tattiana--thus the sex is born.-- +He obstinately will remain, +Still hopes, endeavours, though in vain. +Sickness more courage doth command +Than health, so with a trembling hand +A love epistle he doth scrawl. +Though correspondence as a rule +He used to hate--and was no fool-- +Yet suffering emotional +Had rendered him an invalid; +But word for word his letter read. + +Oneguine's Letter to Tattiana + +All is foreseen. My secret drear +Will sound an insult in your ear. +What acrimonious scorn I trace +Depicted on your haughty face! +What do I ask? What cause assigned +That I to you reveal my mind? +To what malicious merriment, +It may be, I yield nutriment! + +Meeting you in times past by chance, +Warmth I imagined in your glance, +But, knowing not the actual truth, +Restrained the impulses of youth; +Also my wretched liberty +I would not part with finally; +This separated us as well-- +Lenski, unhappy victim, fell, +From everything the heart held dear +I then resolved my heart to tear; +Unknown to all, without a tie, +I thought--retirement, liberty, +Will happiness replace. My God! +How I have erred and felt the rod! + +No, ever to behold your face, +To follow you in every place, +Your smiling lips, your beaming eyes, +To watch with lovers' ecstasies, +Long listen, comprehend the whole +Of your perfections in my soul, +Before you agonized to die-- +This, this were true felicity! + +But such is not for me. I brood +Daily of love in solitude. +My days of life approach their end, +Yet I in idleness expend +The remnant destiny concedes, +And thus each stubbornly proceeds. +I feel, allotted is my span; +But, that life longer may remain, +At morn I must assuredly +Know that thy face that day I see. + +I tremble lest my humble prayer +You with stern countenance declare +The artifice of villany-- +I hear your harsh, reproachful cry. +If ye but knew how dreadful 'tis +To bear love's parching agonies-- +To burn, yet reason keep awake +The fever of the blood to slake-- +A passionate desire to bend +And, sobbing at your feet, to blend +Entreaties, woes and prayers, confess +All that the heart would fain express-- +Yet with a feigned frigidity +To arm the tongue and e'en the eye, +To be in conversation clear +And happy unto you appear. + +So be it! But internal strife +I cannot longer wage concealed. +The die is cast! Thine is my life! +Into thy hands my fate I yield! + +XXXII + +No answer! He another sent. +Epistle second, note the third, +Remained unnoticed. Once he went +To an assembly--she appeared +Just as he entered. How severe! +She will not see, she will not hear. +Alas! she is as hard, behold, +And frosty as a Twelfth Night cold. +Oh, how her lips compressed restrain +The indignation of her heart! +A sidelong look doth Eugene dart: +Where, where, remorse, compassion, pain? +Where, where, the trace of tears? None, none! +Upon her brow sits wrath alone-- + +XXXIII + +And it may be a secret dread +Lest the world or her lord divine +A certain little escapade +Well known unto Oneguine mine. +'Tis hopeless! Homeward doth he flee +Cursing his own stupidity, +And brooding o'er the ills he bore, +Society renounced once more. +Then in the silent cabinet +He in imagination saw +The time when Melancholy's claw +'Mid worldly pleasures chased him yet, +Caught him and by the collar took +And shut him in a lonely nook. + +XXXIV + +He read as vainly as before, +perusing Gibbon and Rousseau, +Manzoni, Herder and Chamfort,(85) +Madame de Stael, Bichat, Tissot: +He read the unbelieving Bayle, +Also the works of Fontenelle, +Some Russian authors he perused-- +Nought in the universe refused: +Nor almanacs nor newspapers, +Which lessons unto us repeat, +Wherein I castigation get; +And where a madrigal occurs +Writ in my honour now and then-- +_E sempre bene_, gentlemen! + +[Note 85: Owing to the unstable nature of fame the names of some +of the above literary worthies necessitate reference at this +period in the nineteenth century. + +Johann Gottfried von Herder, b. 1744, d. 1803, a German +philosopher, philanthropist and author, was the personal friend +of Goethe and held the poet of court chaplain at Weimar. His chief +work is entitled, "Ideas for a Philosophy of the History of +Mankind," in 4 vols. + +Sebastien Roch Nicholas Chamfort, b. 1741, d. 1794, was a French +novelist and dramatist of the Revolution, who contrary to his +real wishes became entangled in its meshes. He exercised a +considerable influence over certain of its leaders, notably +Mirabeau and Sieyes. He is said to have originated the title of +the celebrated tract from the pen of the latter. "What is the +Tiers Etat? Nothing. What ought it to be? Everything." He +ultimately experienced the common destiny in those days, was thrown +into prison and though shortly afterwards released, his +incarceration had such an effect upon his mind that he committed +suicide. + +Marie Francois Xavier Bichat, b. 1771, d. 1802, a French anatomist +and physiologist of eminence. His principal works are a "Traite +des Membranes," "Anatomie generale appliquee a la Physiologie et a +la Medecine," and "Recherches Physiologiques sur la Vie et la +Mort." He died at an early age from constant exposure to noxious +exhalations during his researches. + +Pierre Francois Tissot, b. 1768, d. 1864, a French writer of the +Revolution and Empire. In 1812 he was appointed by Napoleon editor +of the _Gazette de France_. He wrote histories of the Revolution, +of Napoleon and of France. He was likewise a poet and author of a +work entitled "Les trois Irlandais Conjures, ou l'ombre d'Emmet," +and is believed to have edited Foy's "History of the Peninsular +War." + +The above catalogue by its heterogeneous composition gives a fair +idea of the intellectual movement in Russia from the Empress +Catherine the Second downwards. It is characterized by a feverish +thirst for encyclopaedic knowledge without a corresponding power +of assimilation.] + +XXXV + +But what results? His eyes peruse +But thoughts meander far away-- +Ideas, desires and woes confuse +His intellect in close array. +His eyes, the printed lines betwixt, +On lines invisible are fixt; +'Twas these he read and these alone +His spirit was intent upon. +They were the wonderful traditions +Of kindly, dim antiquity, +Dreams with no continuity, +Prophecies, threats and apparitions, +The lively trash of stories long +Or letters of a maiden young. + +XXXVI + +And by degrees upon him grew +A lethargy of sense, a trance, +And soon imagination threw +Before him her wild game of chance. +And now upon the snow in thaw +A young man motionless he saw, +As one who bivouacs afield, +And heard a voice cry--_Why! He's killed_!-- +And now he views forgotten foes, +Poltroons and men of slanderous tongue, +Bevies of treacherous maidens young; +Of thankless friends the circle rose, +A mansion--by the window, see! +She sits alone--'tis ever _she_! + +XXXVII + +So frequently his mind would stray +He well-nigh lost the use of sense, +Almost became a poet say-- +Oh! what had been his eminence! +Indeed, by force of magnetism +A Russian poem's mechanism +My scholar without aptitude +At this time almost understood. +How like a poet was my chum +When, sitting by his fire alone +Whilst cheerily the embers shone, +He "Benedetta" used to hum, +Or "Idol mio," and in the grate +Would lose his slippers or gazette. + +XXXVIII + +Time flies! a genial air abroad, +Winter resigned her empire white, +Oneguine ne'er as poet showed +Nor died nor lost his senses quite. +Spring cheered him up, and he resigned +His chambers close wherein confined +He marmot-like did hibernate, +His double sashes and his grate, +And sallied forth one brilliant morn-- +Along the Neva's bank he sleighs, +On the blue blocks of ice the rays +Of the sun glisten; muddy, worn, +The snow upon the streets doth melt-- +Whither along them doth he pelt? + +XXXIX + +Oneguine whither gallops? Ye +Have guessed already. Yes, quite so! +Unto his own Tattiana he, +Incorrigible rogue, doth go. +Her house he enters, ghastly white, +The vestibule finds empty quite-- +He enters the saloon. 'Tis blank! +A door he opens. But why shrank +He back as from a sudden blow?-- +Alone the princess sitteth there, +Pallid and with dishevelled hair, +Gazing upon a note below. +Her tears flow plentifully and +Her cheek reclines upon her hand. + +XL + +Oh! who her speechless agonies +Could not in that brief moment guess! +Who now could fail to recognize +Tattiana in the young princess! +Tortured by pangs of wild regret, +Eugene fell prostrate at her feet-- +She starts, nor doth a word express, +But gazes on Oneguine's face +Without amaze or wrath displayed: +His sunken eye and aspect faint, +Imploring looks and mute complaint +She comprehends. The simple maid +By fond illusions once possest +Is once again made manifest. + +XLI + +His kneeling posture he retains-- +Calmly her eyes encounter his-- +Insensible her hand remains +Beneath his lips' devouring kiss. +What visions then her fancy thronged-- +A breathless silence then, prolonged-- +But finally she softly said: +"Enough, arise! for much we need +Without disguise ourselves explain. +Oneguine, hast forgotten yet +The hour when--Fate so willed--we met +In the lone garden and the lane? +How meekly then I heard you preach-- +To-day it is my turn to teach. + +XLII + +"Oneguine, I was younger then, +And better, if I judge aright; +I loved you--what did I obtain? +Affection how did you requite? +But with austerity!--for you +No novelty--is it not true?-- +Was the meek love a maiden feels. +But now--my very blood congeals, +Calling to mind your icy look +And sermon--but in that dread hour +I blame not your behaviour-- +An honourable course ye took, +Displayed a noble rectitude-- +My soul is filled with gratitude! + +XLIII + +"Then, in the country, is't not true? +And far removed from rumour vain; +I did not please you. Why pursue +Me now, inflict upon me pain?-- +Wherefore am I your quarry held?-- +Is it that I am now compelled +To move in fashionable life, +That I am rich, a prince's wife?-- +Because my lord, in battles maimed, +Is petted by the Emperor?-- +That my dishonour would ensure +A notoriety proclaimed, +And in society might shed +A bastard fame prohibited? + +XLIV + +"I weep. And if within your breast +My image hath not disappeared, +Know that your sarcasm ill-suppressed, +Your conversation cold and hard, +If the choice in my power were, +To lawless love I should prefer-- +And to these letters and these tears. +For visions of my childish years +Then ye were barely generous, +Age immature averse to cheat-- +But now--what brings you to my feet?-- +How mean, how pusillanimous! +A prudent man like you and brave +To shallow sentiment a slave! + +XLV + +"Oneguine, all this sumptuousness, +The gilding of life's vanities, +In the world's vortex my success, +My splendid house and gaieties-- +What are they? Gladly would I yield +This life in masquerade concealed, +This glitter, riot, emptiness, +For my wild garden and bookcase,-- +Yes! for our unpretending home, +Oneguine--the beloved place +Where the first time I saw your face,-- +Or for the solitary tomb +Wherein my poor old nurse doth lie +Beneath a cross and shrubbery. + +XLVI + +"'Twas possible then, happiness-- +Nay, near--but destiny decreed-- +My lot is fixed--with thoughtlessness +It may be that I did proceed-- +With bitter tears my mother prayed, +And for Tattiana, mournful maid, +Indifferent was her future fate. +I married--now, I supplicate-- +For ever your Tattiana leave. +Your heart possesses, I know well, +Honour and pride inflexible. +I love you--to what end deceive?-- +But I am now another's bride-- +For ever faithful will abide." + +XLVII + +She rose--departed. But Eugene +Stood as if struck by lightning fire. +What a storm of emotions keen +Raged round him and of balked desire! +And hark! the clank of spurs is heard +And Tania's husband soon appeared.-- +But now our hero we must leave +Just at a moment which I grieve +Must be pronounced unfortunate-- +For long--for ever. To be sure +Together we have wandered o'er +The world enough. Congratulate +Each other as the shore we climb! +Hurrah! it long ago was time! + +XLVIII + +Reader, whoever thou mayst be, +Foeman or friend, I do aspire +To part in amity with thee! +Adieu! whate'er thou didst desire +From careless stanzas such as these, +Of passion reminiscences, +Pictures of the amusing scene, +Repose from labour, satire keen, +Or faults of grammar on its page-- +God grant that all who herein glance, +In serious mood or dalliance +Or in a squabble to engage, +May find a crumb to satisfy. +Now we must separate. Good-bye! + +XLIX + +And farewell thou, my gloomy friend, +Thou also, my ideal true, +And thou, persistent to the end, +My little book. With thee I knew +All that a poet could desire, +Oblivion of life's tempest dire, +Of friends the grateful intercourse-- +Oh, many a year hath run its course +Since I beheld Eugene and young +Tattiana in a misty dream, +And my romance's open theme +Glittered in a perspective long, +And I discerned through Fancy's prism +Distinctly not its mechanism. + +L + +But ye to whom, when friendship heard, +The first-fruits of my tale I read, +As Saadi anciently averred--(86) +Some are afar and some are dead. +Without them Eugene is complete; +And thou, from whom Tattiana sweet; +Was drawn, ideal of my lay-- +Ah! what hath fate not torn away! +Happy who quit life's banquet seat +Before the dregs they shall divine +Of the cup brimming o'er with wine-- +Who the romance do not complete, +But who abandon it--as I +Have my Oneguine--suddenly. + +[Note 86: The celebrated Persian poet. Pushkin uses the passage +referred to as an epigraph to the "Fountain of Baktchiserai." It +runs thus: "Many, even as I, visited that fountain, but some of +these are dead and some have journeyed afar." Saadi was born in +1189 at Shiraz and was a reputed descendant from Ali, Mahomet's +son-in-law. In his youth he was a soldier, was taken prisoner by +the Crusaders and forced to work in the ditches of Tripoli, +whence he was ransomed by a merchant whose daughter he subsequently +married. He did not commence writing till an advanced age. His +principal work is the "Gulistan," or "Rose Garden," a work which +has been translated into almost every European tongue.] + + +End of Canto The Eighth + + +The End + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EUGENE ONEGUINE [ONEGIN]*** + + +******* This file should be named 23997.txt or 23997.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/3/9/9/23997 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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