Vladisláv Aleksándrovich Ózerov. (1770-1816.)
Ózerov entered the military school when a child, left it as a lieutenant in 1788, and then was made adjutant to the director of the school, Count Anhalt, who died in 1794. His first literary venture was an In Memoriam to the director, written in French. He then tried himself in odes and shorter songs, of which only the Hymn to the God of Love rises above mediocrity. He scored his first great success in his tragedy Œdipus at Athens, which produced a stirring effect upon the audience. This was followed by Fingal, the subject being from Ossian. But the drama that most affected his generation was Dimítri Donskóy, which appeared opportunely on the eve of Napoleon’s invasion, in 1807. The element of tearfulness, or “sentimentality,” as Karamzín called it, which Ózerov was the first to introduce into the Russian tragedy, and the patriotic subject which he developed in his Dimítri Donskóy combined to make his plays very popular, though his verse is rather heavy and artificial.
DIMÍTRI DONSKÓY
ACT I., SCENE I. DIMÍTRI AND THE OTHER PRINCES, BOYÁRS AND GENERALS
Dimítri. Russian princes, boyárs, generals, you who have crossed the Don to find liberty and, at last, to cast off the yokes that have been forced upon us! How long were we to endure the dominion of the Tartars in our land, and, content with an humble fate, sit as slaves on our princely throne? Two centuries had nearly passed when Heaven in its anger sent that scourge against us; for almost two centuries the foes, now openly, now hidden, like hungry ravens, like insatiable wolves, have been destroying, burning, plundering us. I have called you here to avenge us: the time has now come to repay the foe for our calamities. The Kipchák horde has, like a gigantic burden, been lying on Russian shoulders, spreading desolation and terror all around, but now, heavy by its own weight, it has fallen to pieces. Civil strife, dissension and all the ills which heretofore had brought the Russian land to utter weakness, have now penetrated the horde. New khans have arisen who have torn themselves loose from it; but the insatiable tyrants, having barely risen, threaten our land. The most insatiable of them and most cunning, Mamáy, the accursed ruler of the Trans-Don horde, has risen against us in an unjust war. He is hurrying against us, and perhaps with to-morrow’s dawn will appear before our camp. But seeing the sudden union of the Russian forces, his heart was disturbed, and his mind misgave him, so he decided to send first an embassy to us. Friends of Dimítri, do you advise to receive them? Or, remaining firm in our heroic intention, shall we answer Mamáy in front of our army, when the first bold onslaught of the Russians would resound upon the earth and would frighten the Tartars?
Tverskóy. Let us give the answer before the army in the field of battle! None of us, O princes, can be more anxious than I to avenge ourselves on the inhuman foe. Whose family can compare with the Tverskóys in misfortunes they have borne? My grandfather and his sire, after endless tortures, lay their heads in the graves through the treachery of the infidel, and their ashes groan under the power of the horde. Grand Prince of Russia, you have called us hither not to enter into parley with Mamáy, but to decide in battle and end all discord with him....
Byelózerski. Oh, how happy am I to have lived to see this day, to contemplate here the concord and love among the princes, and the unanimous zeal in your hearts against the enemy! I, about to bear my age into the yawning grave, will be able to bring hope to the departed fathers, that the honour of the Russian land is to be reinstated, that her power and glory is to return. O shades of Vladímir, and you, shades of Yarosláv, ancestral heads of princely houses! In the lap of the angels you will rejoice, as you foresee the blessed time when the disunited nation of Russian tribes, uniting with one soul into one whole, will triumphantly appear a threatening giant, and united Russia will give laws to the world! Dimítri, your victory is certain! No, never before has such an army been gathered in so far-reaching a camp, either by your grandfather Iván, or Simeón the Terrible, or your meek father! I, the old leader of the forces of Byelózersk, have never seen Russia lead out such numbers of bold warriors. Of all the Russian princes, Olég alone has remained in idleness at Ryazán, and without interest in the expedition; his ear alone is deaf to the common groan. May the memory of those perish whose spirit can with quiet eye see the country’s woes, or rather, let their name with disgrace and endless shame pass to late posterity! Yet, my lord, however flattering your success may be, my advice is to receive the Tartar embassy, and if we can establish peace by paying a tribute to Mamáy.... (All the princes express dissatisfaction.)
Dimítri. O Prince of Byelózersk, what do you propose? Fearing strife, to acknowledge the Tartar’s power by paying a shameful tribute?
Byelózerski. To spare the priceless Christian blood. If we conquer Mamáy, look out, the hordes will once more unite for our common woe; beware, this temporarily successful exploit will again rouse their ambitious spirit, and they will perceive at last how injurious for their ambition their strife is, which separates their khans. The murders, fire, slaughter of wives and children which the Tartars have perpetrated against us, in their opinion, give the hordes a right over us. They deem Russia to be their patrimony. Seeing our bravery, they will stop their disorders, and will soon, united, bring misery on the Russians. Rather give them a chance to weaken in their destructive discord; let us gather strength in the peaceful quiet and, warding off the chances of war, choose peace instead of useless victory.
Dimítri. Oh, better death in battle than dishonourable peace! Thus our ancestors thought, thus we, too, will think. Those times are past when timid minds saw in the Tartars a tool of Heaven, which it is senseless and improper to oppose. In our days honour and the very voice of faith arm us against the tormentors. That voice, that prophetic voice of faith, proclaims to us that an immortal crown awaits the fallen in battle, that through the grave they pass to eternal joy. O Sérgi, pastor of souls, whom the groans of fellow-citizens have so often disturbed in your hermit prayers, and whose tears have so abundantly flowed lamenting the fate of the innocent, O you who with sacred hand blessed us for the impending battle! In your hermit cell, where you pass your humble days, listen to my words: inspired by you, they will inflame the Russian hearts to seek here liberty or the heavenly crown! ’Tis better to cease living, or not to be born at all, than to submit to the yoke of a foreign tribe, than with the name of payers of tribute to flatter their greed. Can we with such slavery avert our misfortunes? He who pays a tribute is weak; he who evinces a weak spirit invites arrogant lust to insult. But I am ready to receive the Khan’s messenger and to bring him before the assembly of the princes, not to listen to the shameless propositions of Tartar arrogance, but to announce to him the resolve for war, that he may read valour in our brows, and, shuddering, bear terror into Mamáy’s camp.
Smolénski. The whole assembly announces assent to your advice.
Dimítri. The messenger awaits the decision near the tent. You, Brénski, bring in the Tartars that have come to us!