Eugene Oneguine [Onegin] Part 10

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 h.e.l.l "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 pa.s.sion 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 G.o.d 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 _Arzama.s.s_, or French school, to which Pushkin himself together with his uncle Va.s.sili Pushkin the "Nestor of the Arzama.s.s" 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."]

x.x.x

G.o.d 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.

x.x.xI

Speech careless, incorrect, but soft, With inexact p.r.o.nunciation 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 ent.i.tled "G.o.ddam! G.o.ddam! 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 _Sat.u.r.day Review_ of the 2d August 1879.]

x.x.xII

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 impa.s.sioned 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."]

x.x.xIII

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 antic.i.p.ate?) 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 p.r.o.nounced 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 G.o.d 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?