Alexander Petróvich Sumarókov. (1718-1777.)
Sumarókov is the first litterateur of Russia, that is, the first man to regard literature as a profession, independently of an official position. After graduating from the military school, in 1740, he served for a while under some military commanders, but devoted all his leisure time to writing poetry according to the rules laid down by Tredyakóvski. There was no species of poetical literature in which he did not try himself and did not produce prolifically. He has left odes, eulogies, fables, satires and dramas. In many of these he broke virgin soil in Russia, and in his unexampled conceit he was not slow to proclaim his highest deserts: “What Athens has seen and Paris now sees, after a long period of transition, that you, O Russia, have perceived at once by my efforts.” In spite of his mediocrity and acquaintance with only the pseudo-classic French style (for he disdained all serious study of antiquity), Sumarókov was highly valued in his day, and his example has done much to advance Russian literature. In 1756 the Russian Theatre was created by a decree of the Senate, and Sumarókov was chosen as its first director. To fill his repertoire, he was compelled to write plays himself, and he produced them with astounding facility. His best drama is probably The False Demetrius, though there is little historical truth in it. In 1761 he issued the first independent journal, The Industrious Bee, which, however, was filled mainly with his own writings. Sumarókov’s influence on Russian letters lasted up to the time of Púshkin, though Karamzín was the first to doubt his greatness.
Sumarókov’s The False Demetrius has been translated into English: Demetrius the Impostor; a tragedy [in five acts and in prose], translated from the Russian, London, 1806.
Act II., Scene 7, is also given in C. E. Turner’s Studies in Russian Literature, and, the same, in Fraser’s Magazine, 1877.
THE FALSE DEMETRIUS
ACT II., SCENE 1. GEORGE AND XENIA
Xenia. Blessed in the world is that purple-bearing man who does not suppress the freedom of our souls, who elevates himself for society’s good, and with leniency adorns his royal dignity, who gives his subjects auspicious days, and whom evildoers alone have cause to fear.
George. O thou sad Kremlin! Thou art this day a witness how that virtue was cast down from the throne. Languishing Moscow trembles in despair; happiness flees its walls in sorrow; the bright days seem darker than dense night; the fair groves about Moscow are clad in sombreness. When the solemn bell rings in the city, it seems to us that it repeats the city’s general groan and that it proclaims our Church’s fall through the machinations of the pope. O Lord, remove that terror from the Russians! Already the report flies through the square that Clement has promised reward in heaven to the rebels, the foes of our country’s city, and that he in advance forgives them all their sins. Moscow will suffer as suffers the New World! There the papists have stained with blood the earth, have slaughtered its inhabitants, have plundered the surviving, have burnt the innocent in their own land, holding the cross in one hand, in the other—the bloody sword. What has happened to them in their dire fate will now, O Russia, be done to you!
Xenia. All powers of evil,—Demetrius, Clement, Hell,—will not efface you from my heart! O Heaven, remove the fury of the papal power, and with it Xenia’s unbearable distress, that Russia might raise its head, and I might be my sweetheart’s wife! Grant us to see the monarch on the throne, subject to truth, not arbitrary will! All truth has withered; the tyrant’s law is only what he wants; but on the happiness of their subjects are based the laws of righteous kings, for their immortal glory. God’s vicar is to be the Tsar. Strike me, destroy me, merciless Tsar! Megæra has swept you from Tartarus, the Caucasus has borne you, Hyrcania has nurtured you. The heretic, with his crowd of slaves, will, cursing, oust the bodies of saintly men from their graves. Their names will in Russia for ever perish, and the houses of God will in Moscow be deserted. Nation, tear the crown from the creator of dire torments; hasten, wrest the sceptre from the barbarian’s hands!
SCENE 7
Demetrius (alone). My crown lies not firmly upon my head, and the end of my greatness is at hand. Each moment I expect a sudden change. O Kremlin’s walls that frighten me! Meseems each hour you announce to me: “Villain, you are a foe, a foe to us and the whole land!” The citizens proclaim: “You have ruined us!” And the temples weep: “We are stained with blood!” The fair places about Moscow are deserted, and Hell from its abyss has oped its jaws at me; I see the sombre steps that lead to the infernal regions, and the tormented shades of Tartarus: I am already in Gehenna, and burn in the flame; I cast my glance to heaven, and see the celestial regions: there are good kings in all the beauty of their natures, and angels besprinkle them with dew of paradise; but what hope have I to-day in my despair? I shall be tormented in eternity even as I suffer now. I am not a crowned potentate in a magnificent city, but an evil malefactor, in hell tormented. I perish, dragging a multitude of the people to destruction. Flee, tyrant, flee! From whom?—From myself, for I see no one else before me. Run! But whither? Your hell is ever with you! The assassin is here, run! But I am that assassin! I tremble before myself, and before my shade. I shall avenge myself! On whom? Myself. Do I hate myself? I love myself! For what? I see it not. All cry against me: rapine, unfair justice, all terrible things,—they cry together against me. I live to the misfortune, shall die to the fortune of my nearest. The fate of men, the lowliest, I envy: even the mendicant is sometimes happy in his poverty. But I rule here,—and am always tormented. Endure and perish, having ascended the throne by deceit! Drive, and be driven! Live and die a tyrant!
INSTRUCTION TO A SON
Perceiving his tearful end near at hand, a father thus instructed his beloved, only begotten son:
“My son, beloved son! I am old to-day; my mind grows dull, my fervour is all gone; I am preparing to go before the Judge, and shall soon pass to eternity, the immeasurable abode of mortals. So I wish to tell you how you may live, and to show you the road to happiness. You will travel over a slippery path: though all in the world is vanity, yet why should one disdain happiness in life? Our whole mind ought to be bent upon obtaining it, and our endeavour should be to get all we need.
“Give up that chimera which men call honour; of what good is it when you have nothing to eat? It is impossible to get along in commerce without cheating, and in poverty without dishonesty and theft. By hook and by crook I have scraped together a fortune for you; now, if you should squander it all, I shall have sold my soul in vain. Whenever I think of that, my rest is gone.
“Increase your income, keep indolence from your heart, and keep your money against an evil day. Steal, if you can steal, but do it secretly,—by all means increase your income every year! The eye is not satisfied with mere looking on. If you can cheat, cheat artfully, for ’tis a shame to be caught in the act, and it often leads to the gallows. Make no acquaintances for the mere sake of knowing them, but put your spoon there where the jam is thickest! Revere the rich, to get your tribute from them. Never tire praising them with condescension; but if they be distinguished people, subdue them by creeping!
“Be humble with all men, and simulate! If a mighty person chides anyone, together with the mighty chide him! Praise those whom the powerful praise, and belittle those they belittle! Keep your eyes wide open and watch whom great boyárs are angry with.
“If you walk upon the straight road, you will find no fortune. Swim there where favourable winds carry you! Against men whom the people honour speak not a word; and let your soul be ever ready to thank them, though you receive nothing from them! Endeavour to speak like them. Whatever the puissant man says are sacred words; never contradict him, for you are a small man! If he say red of that which is black, say too: ‘’Tis rather red!’ Before low-born men rave like a devil; for if you do not, they will forget who you are, and will not respect you: the common people honour those who are haughty. But before the high-born leap like a frog, and remember that a farthing is as nothing in comparison with a rouble. Big souls have they, but we, my beloved son, have only little souls! Be profuse in thanks, if you expect some favour from your benefactor; spare your thanks where you have nothing to gain, for your grateful spirit will be lost.
“Do yourself no injury, and remain honest to yourself, loving yourself most sincerely! Do no injury to yourself, but for others have only appearances, and remember how little wisdom there is in the world, and how many fools. Satisfy them with empty words: honour yourself with your heart, but others with your lips, for you will have to pay no toll for fondling them. Let others think that you place yourself much lower than them, and that you have little regard for yourself; but do not forget that your shirt is nearer to your body than your caftan!
“I will allow you to play cards, provided you know how to handle them. A game without cunning has no interest, and playing you must not sacrifice yourself to others. Whatever game you play, my son, remember not to be always honest!—Have contempt for peasants, seeing them below your feet, but let your lips proclaim the puissant as gods, and speak no surly word to them. But love none of them, no matter what their worth, though their deeds be trumpeted through the subsolar world! Give bribes, and yourself accept them! When there are no witnesses, steal and cheat as much as you please, but be wary with your misdoings in presence of witnesses! Change the good that there is in people into evil, and never say a good word of another! For what are you to gain from praising them? Indeed, their virtues put you only in a bad light. Go not out of the way to serve another, where there is no gain for you.
“Hate the learned, and despise the ignorant, and ever keep your thoughts fresh for your own advantage! Above all, beware of getting into the satire of impudent scribblers! Disturb and break the ties of families, friendship and marriage, for ’tis more convenient to fish in muddy waters. Know no love, family nor friends, for ever holding yourself alone in mind! Deceive your friends, and let them suffer through you sorrow and misfortune, if you are the winner thereby! Garner your fruits wherever you can! There are some who foolishly call it dishonest to bring woes to your friends, but they do not see that duty teaches me only to love myself, and that it is not at all dishonourable when necessity demands that others perish: it is contrary to nature not to love yourself best. Let misfortune befall my country, let it go to the nethermost regions; let everything that is not mine be ruined,—provided I have peace.
“Forget not my rules! I have left you my fortune and my wisdom. Live, my son, live as your father has lived!”
He had barely uttered these words, when he was struck by lightning, and he departed from his child and home; and the soul that had for so long been disseminating poison flew out of the body and took its flight to hell.
TO THE CORRUPTERS OF LANGUAGE
In a strange land there lived a dog in a thick forest. He deemed his citizens to be uncultured, so passed his days in the country of the wolves and bears. The dog no longer barked, but growled like a bear, and sang the songs of wolves. When he returned to the dogs, he out of reason adorned his native tongue. He mixed the growl of bears and howl of wolves into his bark, and began to speak unintelligibly to dogs. The dogs said: “We need not your new-fangled music—you only spoil our language with it”; and they began to bite him, until they killed him.
I have read the tombstone of that dog: “Never disdain your native speech, and introduce into it nothing foreign, but adorn yourself with your own beauty.”
THE HELPFUL GNAT
Six fine horses were pulling an immense carriage. The carriage would have been a heavy one without any people in it; but this enormous carriage was filled with people, and was in size a haystack. It slowly moved along, travelling not over boards, but carrying the master and his wife through heavy sand, in which it finally stuck fast. The horses’ strength gave out; the lackeys on the footboard, to save the horses and wheels, stepped down; but yet the rick did not move. The driver called to the horses: “Get up, get up!” and struck them with the whip, as if it was their guilt. He struck them hard and yelled and yelled, until he grew hoarse, while the horses were covered with foam, and steam rose from them.
A gnat flew by, perceived the plight of the carriage, and was anxious to do it a good turn, and help it out. So it began to goad the horses and the driver, to make the driver on his box more agile, and that the horses might draw with more vim. Now it stung the driver, now the horses; it perspired, worked with might and main, but all in vain; it buzzed and buzzed, but all its songs were useless; there was not the slightest sign that the carriage would move; so after having laboured hard, it flew away. In the meanwhile, the horses had rested themselves, and dragged the huge mass out of the sand. The gnat saw the carriage from afar, and said: “How foolish it all was of me to abandon the carriage just as it was to move! ’Tis true I have worked hard in the sand, but at least I have moved the carriage.”
FOUR ANSWERS
You ask me, my friend, what I would do: (1) if I were a small man and a small gentleman; (2) if I were a great man and a small gentleman; (3) if I were a great man and a great gentleman; (4) if I were a small man and a great gentleman. To the first question I answer: I should use all my endeavour to become acquainted in the houses of distinguished people and men of power; I would not allow a single holiday to pass, without making the round of the city, in order to give the compliments of the season; I would walk on tiptoes in the antechambers of the mighty, and would treat their valets to tobacco; I would learn to play all kinds of games, for when you play cards you can sit down shoulder to shoulder with the most distinguished people, and then bend over to them and say in a low tone: “I have the honour to report to your Excellency such and such an affair,” or again become bolder and exclaim: “You have thirteen and I fourteen.” I would not dispute anything, but would only say: “Just so; certainly so; most certainly so; absolutely so.” I would tell the whole world that such and such a distinguished gentleman had condescended to speak to me, and if I could not say so truthfully, I would lie about it, for nothing so adorns speech as a lie, to which poets are witnesses.
Finally, I would obtain by humility and flattery a profitable place, but above all I would strive to become a governor, for that place is profitable, honourable and easy. It is profitable, because everybody brings gifts; it is honourable, because everybody bows before a governor; it is easy, because there is very little work to do, and that is done by a secretary or scribe, and, they being sworn people, one may entirely rely upon them. A scribe has been created by God by whom man has been created, and that opinion is foolish which assumes that a scribe’s soul is devoid of virtue. I believe there is little difference between a man and a scribe, much less difference than between a scribe and any other creature.
If I were a great man and a small gentleman, I would, in my constant attempt to be useful to my country and the world at large, never become burdensome to anyone, and would put all my reliance upon my worth and my deserts to my country; and if I should find myself deceived in this, I should become insane from so much patience, and should be a man who not only does nothing, but even thinks nothing.
If I were a great man and a great gentleman, I would without cessation think of the welfare of my country, of incitements to virtue and dignity, the reward of merit, the suppression of vice and lawlessness, the increase of learning, the cheapening of the necessaries of life, the preservation of justice, the punishment for taking bribes, for grasping, robbery and theft, the diminution of lying, flattery, hypocrisy and drunkenness, the expulsion of superstition, the abatement of unnecessary luxury, the limitation of games at cards which rob people of their valuable time, the education, the founding and maintenance of schools, the maintenance of a well-organised army, the scorn of rudeness, and the eradication of parasitism.
But if I were a small man and a great gentleman, I would live in great magnificence, for such magnificence is rarely to be found in a great soul; but I will not say what else I would do.