Daniel the Prisoner. (XIII. century.)
For some unknown reason Daniel had been imprisoned in an island in the Lake of Lach, in the Government of Olónetsk. He seems to have belonged to the druzhína of Yarosláv Vsévolodovich of Pereyáslavl, who died in 1247 as Grand Prince of Vladímir. That is all that is known about the life of this layman, one of the few in the old period whose writing has come down to our times. The begging letter which he addressed to the Prince is composed of incorrectly quoted biblical passages and popular saws and proverbs; many of these he drew from an ancient collection, The Bee, in which moral subjects are arranged in chapters. In their turn, Daniel’s saws have largely entered into the composition of a very popular collection of the same kind, The Emerald.
LETTER TO PRINCE YAROSLÁV VSÉVOLODOVICH
We will blare forth, O brothers, on the reasoning of our mind, as on a trumpet forged of gold. We will strike the silver organs, and will proclaim our wisdom, and will strike the thoughts of our mind, playing on the God-inspired reeds, that our soul-saving thoughts might weep loud. Arise, my glory! Arise, psalter and cymbals, that I may unfold my meaning in proverbs, and that I may announce my glory in words.... Knowing, O lord, your good disposition, I take refuge in your customary kindness, for the Holy Writ says: Ask and you shall receive. David has said: There is no speech nor language, where their voice is not heard. Neither will we be silent, but will speak out to our master, the most gracious Yarosláv Vsévolodovich.
Prince my lord! Remember me in your reign, for I, your slave, and son of your slave, see all men warmed by your mercy as by the sun; only I alone walk in darkness, deprived of the light from your eyes, like the grass growing behind a wall, upon which neither the sun shineth nor the rain falleth. So, my lord, incline your ears to the words of my lips, and deliver me from all my sorrow.
Prince my lord! All get their fill from the abundance of your house; but I alone thirst for your mercy, like a stag for a spring of water. I was like a tree that stands in the road and that all passers-by strike;—even thus I am insulted by all, for I am not protected by the terror of your wrath, as by a firm palisade.
Prince my lord! The rich man is known everywhere, even in a strange city, while the poor man walketh unseen in his own. The rich man speaketh and all are silent, and his words are elated to the clouds; but let the poor man speak out, and all will call out to him, for the discourse of those is honoured whose garments are bright. But you, my lord, look not at my outer garb, but consider my inner thoughts, for my apparel is scanty, and I am young in years, but old in mind, and I have soared in thought like an eagle in the air.
Prince my lord! Let me behold your fair face and form. Your lips drop honey; your utterances are like paradise with its fruit; your hands are filled with gold of Tharsos; your cheeks are a vessel of spices; your throat is like a lily dropping myrrh—your mercy; your look is as the choice Lebanon; your eyes are like a well of living water; your belly is like an heap of wheat, feeding many; your head riseth above my head....
Prince my lord! Look not at me as a wolf at a lamb; but look at me as a mother at her babe. Look, O lord, at the birds of the air, that neither plough, nor sow, nor gather into granaries, but rely upon God’s kindness. Let not your hand be closed against giving alms to the needy. For it is written: Give to him who asketh of you, open to him who knocketh, that you may not forfeit the kingdom of heaven. For it is also written: Confide your sorrow to the Lord, and He will nurture you until eternity. Deprive not the needy wise man of his bread, but extol him to the clouds, like pure gold in a dirty vessel; but the silly rich man is like a silken pillow-case stuffed full of straw.
Prince my lord! Though I am not a valiant man in war, yet am I strong in words, and I cull the sweetness of words, mixing them, as sea-water in a leather bottle, and wind them and adorn them with cunning parables, and I am glib of speech and ... my lips are pleasing, like a stream of the river rapids.
Prince my lord! As an oak is strong by the multitude of its roots, thus is our city under your domination. The helmsman is the head of the vessel, and you, Prince, are the head of your people. I have seen an army without a prince;—you might say: a big beast without its head. Men are the heads of women, and princes—of men, and God—of the prince. As the pillow-case that is adorned with silk makes a pleasant appearance, even thus you, our Prince, are glorified and honoured in many lands through the multitude of your men. As the net does not hold the water, but keeps a multitude of fish, even thus you, our Prince, keep not the wealth, but distribute it among the strong, making them brave, for you will gain gold and cities through them. Hezekiah, the King of the Jews, boasted before the messengers of the King of Babylon, when he showed them the treasure of his gold. But they answered: “Our kings are richer than you, not with the treasure of gold, but with a multitude of brave and wise men.” (For men will gain gold, but gold will not gain men.) Water is the mother of the fish, and you are Prince of your people. Spring adorns the earth with flowers, and you, Prince, adorn us with your mercy. The sun alone warms with its rays, and you, Prince, adorn and revive with your mercy.
Prince my lord! I have been in great distress, and have suffered under the yoke of work: I have experienced all that is evil. Rather would I see my foot in bast shoes in your house than in crimson boots in the court of a boyár. Rather would I serve you in homespun than in purple in the court of a boyár. Improper is a golden ring in the nose of a swine, and a good garment upon a peasant. Even if a kettle were to have golden rings in its handles, its bottom would not escape blackness and burning. Even thus a peasant: let him be ever so haughty and insolent, he will not escape his blemish, the name of a peasant. Rather would I drink water in your house, than mead in the court of a boyár; rather would I receive a roasted sparrow from your hand than a shoulder of mutton from the hand of a bad master.
Often has my bread, earned by work, tasted as wormwood in my mouth, and my drink I have mingled with tears. Serving a good master, you gain your liberty in the end, but serving a bad master, you only gain an increase of your labour. Solomon has said: Better is one wise man than ten brave men without understanding; better is one clever man than ten rulers of cities. Daniel has said: A brave man, O Prince, you will easily acquire, but a wise man is dear; for the counsel of the wise is good, and their armies are strong, and their cities safe. The armies of others are strong, but without understanding, and they suffer defeat. Many, arming themselves against large cities, start out from smaller towns; as Svyatosláv, the son of Ólga, said on his way to Constantinople to his small druzhína: “We do not know, O brothers, whether the city is to be taken by us, or whether we are to perish from the city: for if God is with us, who is against us?”...
Not the sea draweth the ships, but the winds; even thus you, O Prince, fall not yourself into grieving, but counsellors lead you into it. Not the fire causeth the iron to be heated, but the blowing of the bellows. A wise man is not generally valiant in war, but strong in counsel; so it is good to gather wise men around you. It is good to pasture horses in a fertile field (and to fight for a good prince). Often armies perish through lack of order. If the armies are strongly placed, they will, though they be defeated, make a good running fight; thus Svyatopólk, who was guilty of killing his brothers, was so fortified, that Yarosláv barely overcame him at night. Similarly Bonyák the Scurfy through cunning routed the Hungarians at Gálich: when the latter fortified themselves behind ramparts, the first scattered like hunting men over the land; thus they routed the Hungarians, and badly defeated them.
Prince my lord! I have not been brought up in Athens, nor have I studied with the philosophers, but I have pored over books, like a bee over all kinds of flowers: from them have I gathered sweetness of speech, mingling wisdom with it, as sea-water in a leather bottle....