Vasíli Kiríllovich Tredyakóvski. (1703-1769.)
Like Lomonósov, Tredyakóvski was of humble origin, his father having been a priest in the city of Astrakhán; also, like his more illustrious colleague a few years later, he walked to Moscow and there entered the School of the Redeemer. He later passed a few years abroad, where he became acquainted with French literature. Upon his return to St. Petersburg in 1730, he translated a French book; in this translation the spoken Russian is for the first time used, free from Slavic influence. Even before this, Tredyakóvski had written verses in the syllabic versification, but in 1735 he discovered that the tonic versification was the only one adapted to the Russian language, and at once set out to write in that measure. His chief deserts do not lie in poetry, for his verses show an absolute absence of talent, and he later became a byword for insipidity. He was the first man to point out the necessity of using the Russian language for literary purposes, and to indicate the line in which Russian poetry must develop. By his enormous industry in translating from foreign languages he became an important factor in the dissemination of learning. The following ode is really an imitation of Boileau’s Sur la prise de Namur.
ODE ON THE SURRENDER OF DANTZIG
What strange intoxication emboldens my voice to singing? Muses, dwellers of Parnassus, does not my mind perceive you? I hear your sweet-sounding strings, your beautiful measure and moods, and a fire arises in my thoughts. O nations, listen all! Stormy winds, do not blow: my verse sings of Anna.
Pindar, and after him Flaccus, have in high-flowing diction risen from the mist to the bright stars, like swift eagles. But if my song to-day were to equal my sincere and eternal zeal for Anna, Orpheus of Thrace and Amphion of Thebes would be in ecstasy from it.
Now I strike the dulcet lyre to celebrate the magnificent victory to the greater downfall of the enemy. Oh, what victorious might has adorned our joy, for the might of the adversary was equal to ours. There is no limit to our pure joy that surpasses all example, that has given balm to our hearts.
Has Neptune himself built the walls, those that stand by the sea? Do they not resemble the Trojan walls, for they would not let in the innumerable Russian army, mightily opposing it? Do not all call the Vistula Skamander? Do they not all regard Stoltzenberg as Mount Ida?
That is not Troy, the mother of fables: there is not one Achilles here; everyone of the rank and file is in bravery a Hercules. What might is that that hurls lightning? Is it not Minerva gleaming in her helmet? ’Tis evident from her looks, from her whole appearance, that she is a goddess: without her ægis she is terrible,—’tis Anna, chief of all empresses.
That also is a Russian army that has closely invested Dantzig, the city of the foe. Each warrior, hastening to the battle, it behooves to call a Mars. Each is ready boldly to shed his blood, or to crown the undertaking for Anna’s sake. Each one is strong with Anna’s fortune: Anna is their strong hope; and, knowing that Anna is gracious to them, they are faithful and not undecided.
Golden beam of the European and Asian Sun! O Russian monarch, the key to your happiness is the kindness to your subjects and your benign rule! The whole world honours your name, and the universe will not hold your glory seeing that, O beautiful flower of virtues!
What do I see? Does not my eye deceive me? A youth has opposed himself to Hercules, lifting high his brows behind ramparts, beyond the river! ’Tis Dantzig, having taken foolish counsel, as if drunk with heady wine, that dares to oppose the great autocrat! In its blindness it does not see the abysses, nor all death-bearing valleys.
It receives Stanislaus in its midst, who seeks twice a crown, and hopes to be defended to the end through nearby Neptune: fearing the Russian thunder it invokes the aid of a distant people from the banks of the Seine: but they beat the drums at the waters of Wechselmünde for a retreat.
Dantzig is proud of its fire and steel, and its regiments of soldiers, and directs its engines of war against the Russians on the hills. Being rich in stores it calls to Stanislaus; it in vain implores its soldiers that have no brave hearts, but think only of this, how to save their lives, and run.
O Dantzig, oh! What are you daring! Come to your senses, collect yourself, for you are hurling yourself to destruction. Why have you stopped? You are hesitating! Surrender! Wherefore have you such boldness and do not tremble before Anna? Many tribes of their own free will and without strife submit to her: China bows down before her twice, in order not to pay her tribute.
Nowhere has there been the like of Anna in kindness, nor is there anywhere in the world one so able to wage war with the unyielding. Her sword wound with the olive branch is only ominous in war. Abandon, Dantzig, your evil purpose: you see, the Alcidæ are ready with cruel miseries for your inhabitants. You hear Anna’s angry voice: save yourself!
You are closely pressed by thousands of athletes; you are mightily struck by the flash of angry lightnings. You cannot withstand: the thunder is ready not in jest. Your ramparts are without defence; the earth opens up abysses; roofs fly into the air; your walls are emptied of men.
If all the powers combined were to aid you, O Dantzig; if the elements defended you; if from all the ends of the world soldiers came to spill their blood for you,—yet nothing would be able to save you from suffering and to stop your misery, and wring you out of Anna’s hands.
Your adversaries see to-day the bravery of Russian soldiers: neither fire nor water harms them, and they advance with open breasts. How readily they advance! How forgetful they are of their lives! The cannon’s thunder frightens them not! They make the assault, as if going to a wedding feast! Only through smoky darkness one may see that their brows are facing the forts.
Within the walls of the wretched city all are struck down with fear: everything falls and flies to dust,—the besiegers are on the walls! The last magistrates, seeing from their tower their vain hope in the distant armies and Stanislaus who had taken refuge within their walls, besides themselves, exclaim: “We are fated to fall!”
What I have prophesied is about to happen,—Dantzig begins to tremble: all think of surrendering, as before they all decided to fight, and of saving themselves from the engines of war, from flying bombs and from all the pests the city is oppressed by. All cry, for the burden was too heavy to carry, “It is time now to open the gates to Anna’s army.”
So it is done: the sign for surrender is given, and Dantzig is at our feet! Our soldiers are happy in their success; the fires have gone out; there is an end to misery. Immediately Glory took its flight and announced with its thundering trumpet: “Anna is fortunate! Anna is unconquerable; Anna, exalted by all, is their common glory and honour.”
Lyre! abate your song: it is not possible for me properly to praise diadem-bearing Anna and her great goodness, any more than I can fly. It is Anna’s good fortune that she is loved by God. He always watches over her, and through Him she is victorious. Who would dare to oppose her? May Anna live many years!