RUSSIAN HUMOR

A glance at Russia in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries shows the great popularity of the Fable as a means of expressing the wit and wisdom of the philosophers.

The two greatest Fabulists were Ivan Chemnitzer or Khemnitzer and Ivan Kryloff.

Alexander Griboyedoff was a writer of comedies.

Ivan Chemnitzer
THE PHILOSOPHER

A certain rich man, who had heard it was an advantage to have been at school abroad, sent his son to study in foreign parts. The son, who was an utter fool, came back more stupid than ever, having been taught all sorts of elaborate explanations of the simplest things by a lot of academical windbags. He expressed himself only in scientific terms, so that no one understood him, and everyone became very tired of him.

One day, while walking along a road, and gazing at the sky in speculating upon some problem of the universe to which the answer had never been found (because there was none), the young man stepped over the edge of a deep ditch. His father, who chanced to be near by, ran to get a rope. The son, however, sitting at the bottom of the ditch, began to meditate on the cause of his fall. He concluded that an earthquake had superinduced a momentary displacement of his corporeal axis, thus destroying his equilibrium, and, in obedience to the law of gravity as established by Newton, precipitating him downward until he encountered an immovable obstacle—namely, the bottom of the ditch.

When his father arrived with the rope, the following dialogue took place between them:

“I have brought a rope to pull you out with. There, now, hold on tight to that end, and don’t let go while I pull.”

“A rope? Please inform me what a rope is before you pull.”

“A rope is a thing to get people out of ditches with, when they have fallen in and can’t get out by themselves.”

“But how is it that no mechanical device has been constructed for that purpose?”

“That would take time; but you will not have to wait until then. Now, then——”

“Time? Please explain first what you mean by time.”

“Time is something that I am not going to waste on a fool like you. So you may stay where you are until I come back.”

Upon which the man went off, and left his foolish son to himself.

Now, would it not be a good thing if all eloquent windbags were gathered together and thrown into the ditch, to keep him company? Yes, surely. Only it would take a much larger ditch than that to hold them.

—The Fables.

THE LION’S COUNCIL OF STATE

A Lion held a court for state affairs.

Why? That is not your business, sir—’twas theirs.

He called the elephants for councilors. Still

The council-board was incomplete,

And the king deemed it fit

With asses all the vacancies to fill.

Heaven help the state, for lo! the bench of asses

The bench of elephants by far surpasses.

“He was a fool, th’ aforesaid king,” you’ll say;

“Better have kept those places vacant, surely,

Than to have filled ’em up so very poorly.”

Oh, no, that’s not the royal way;

Things have been done for ages thus, and we

Have a deep reverence for antiquity.

Naught worse, sir, than to be, or to appear,

Wiser and better than our fathers were!

The list must be complete, e’en though you make it

Complete with asses—for the lion saw

Such had through all the ages been the law.

He was no radical to break it;

“Besides,” said he, “my elephants’ good sense

Will soon my asses’ ignorance diminish,

For wisdom has a mighty influence.”

They made a pretty finish!

The asses’ folly soon obtained the sway:

The elephants became as dull as they!

Ivan Krylov
THE SWAN, THE PIKE, AND THE CRAB

Whene’er companions don’t agree,

They work without accord;

And naught but trouble doth result,

Although they all work hard.

One day a swan, a pike, a crab,

Resolved a load to haul;

All three were harnessed to the cart,

And pulled together all.

But though they pulled with all their might,

The cart-load on the bank stuck tight.

The swan pulled upward to the skies;

The crab did backward crawl;

The pike made for the water straight—

It proved no use at all!

Now, which of them was most to blame,

’Tis not for me to say;

But this I know: the load is there

Unto this very day.

THE MUSICIANS

The tricksy monkey, the goat, the ass, and bandy-legged Mishka, the bear, determined to play a quartet. They provided themselves with the necessary instruments—two fiddles, an alto, and a bass. Then they all settled down under a large tree, with the object of dazzling the world by their artistic performance. They fiddled away lustily for some time, but only succeeded in making a noise, and no music.

“Stop, my friends!” said the monkey, “this will not do; our music does not sound as it ought. It is plain that we are in the wrong positions. You, Mishka, take your bass and face the alto; I will go opposite the second fiddle. Then we shall play altogether differently, so that the very hills and forests will dance.”

So they changed places, and began over again. But they produced only discords, as before.

“Wait a moment!” exclaimed the ass; “I know what the matter is. We must get in a row, and then we shall play in tune.”

This advice was acted upon. The four animals placed themselves in a straight line, and struck up once more.

The quartet was as unmusical as ever. Then they stopped again, and began squabbling and wrangling about the proper positions to be taken. It happened that a nightingale came flying by that way, attracted by their din. They begged the nightingale to solve their difficulty for them.

“Pray be so kind,” they said, “as to stay a moment, so that we may get our quartet in order. We have music and we have instruments; only tell us how to place ourselves.”

To which the nightingale replied:

“To be a musician, one must have a better ear and more intelligence than any of you. Place yourselves any way you like; it will make no difference. You will never become musicians.”

Fedor Dostoevsky was a celebrated Russian novelist and journalist.

We quote a small extract, which, it may be, depends in part for its fun on its excellent English rendition of the German patter.

FROM KARLCHEN, THE CROCODILE

At this moment an appalling, I may even say supernatural, shriek suddenly shook the room. Not knowing what to think, I stood for a moment rooted to the spot; then, hearing Elyona Ivanovna shrieking, too, I turned hastily round; and what did I see! I saw—oh, heavens!—I saw the unhappy Ivan Matvyeich in the fearful jaws of the crocodile, seized across the middle, lifted horizontally in the air, and kicking despairingly. Then—a moment—and he was gone!

I cannot even attempt to describe the agitation of Elyona Ivanovna. After her first cry she stood for some time as petrified, and stared at the scene before her, as if indifferently, though her eyes were starting out of her head; then she suddenly burst into a piercing shriek. I caught her by the hands. At this moment the keeper, who until now had also stood petrified with horror, clasped his hands, and raising his eyes to heaven cried aloud:

“Oh, my crocodile! Oh, mein allerliebstes Karlchen! Mutter! Mutter! Mutter!”

At this cry the back door opened, and “Mutter,” a red-cheeked, untidy, elderly woman in a cap, rushed with a yell toward her son.

Then began an awful tumult. Elyona Ivanovna, beside herself, reiterated one single phrase, “Cut it! Cut it!” and rushed from the keeper to the “Mutter,” and back to the keeper, imploring them (evidently in a fit of frenzy) to “cut” something or some one for some reason. Neither the keeper nor “Mutter” took any notice of either of us; they were hanging over the tank, and shrieking like stuck pigs.

“He is gone dead; he vill sogleich burst, because he von ganz official of der government eat up haf!” cried the keeper.

“Unser Karlchen, unser allerliebstes Karlchen wird sterben!” wailed the mother.

“Ve are orphans, vitout bread!” moaned the keeper.

“Cut it! Cut it! Cut it open!” screamed Elyona Ivanovna, hanging on to the German’s coat.

“He did teaze ze crocodile! Vy your man teaze ze crocodile?” yelled the German, wriggling away. “You vill pay me if Karlchen wird bersten! Das war mein Sohn, das war mein einziger Sohn!”

“Cut it!” shrieked Elyona Ivanovna.

“How! You vill dat my crocodile shall be die? No, your man shall be die first, and denn my crocodile. Mein Vater show von crocodile, mein Grossvater show von crocodile, mein Sohn shall show von crocodile, and I shall show von crocodile. All ve shall show crocodile. I am ganz Europa famous, and you are not ganz Europa famous, and you do be me von fine pay shall!”

“Ja, ja!” agreed the woman savagely; “ve you not let out; fine ven Karlchen vill bersten.”

“For that matter,” I put in calmly, in the hope of getting Elyona Ivanovna home without further ado, “there’s no use in cutting it open, for in all probability our dear Ivan Matvyeich is now soaring in the empyrean.”

“My dear,” remarked at this moment the voice of Ivan Matvyeich, with startling suddenness, “my advice, my dear, is to act through the bureau of police, for the German will not comprehend the truth without the assistance of the police.”

These words, uttered with firmness and gravity, and expressing astonishing presence of mind, at first so much amazed us that we could not believe our ears. Of course, however, we instantly ran to the crocodile’s tank and listened to the speech of the unfortunate captive with a mixture of reverence and distrust. His voice sounded muffled, thin, and even squeaky, as though coming from a long distance.

“Ivan Matvyeich, my dearest, are you alive?” lisped Elyona Ivanovna.

“Alive and well,” answered Ivan Matvyeich; “and, thanks to the Almighty, swallowed whole without injury. I am only disturbed by doubt as to how the superior authorities will regard this episode; for, after having taken a ticket to go abroad, to go into a crocodile instead is hardly sensible.”

“Oh, my dear, don’t worry about sense now; first of all we must somehow or other dig you out,” interrupted Elyona Ivanovna.

“Tig!” cried the German. “I not vill let you to tig ze crocodile! Now shall bery mush Publikum be come, and I shall fifety copeck take, and Karlchen shall leave off to burst.”

“Gott sei Dank!” added the mother.

“They are right,” calmly remarked Ivan Matvyeich; “the economic principle before everything.”

Nikolai Nekrasov wrote light verse of a whimsical trend.

A MORAL MAN

A strictly moral man have I been ever,

And never injured anybody—never.

I lent my friend a sum he could not pay;

I jogged his memory in a friendly way,

Then took the law of him th’ affair to end;

The law to prison sent my worthy friend.

He died there—not a farthing for poor me!

I am not angry, though I’ve cause to be;

His debt that very moment I forgave,

And shed sad tears of sorrow o’er his grave.

A strictly moral man have I been ever,

And never injured anybody—never.

I sent a serf of mine to learn the dressing

Of meat. He learned it—a good cook’s a blessing—

But strangely did neglect his occupation,

And gained a taste not suited to his station:

He liked to read, to reason, to discuss.

I, tired of scolding, without further fuss

Had the rogue flogged—all for the love of him.

He went and drowned himself—what a strange whim!

A strictly moral man have I been ever,

And never injured anybody—never.

My silly daughter fell in love, one day,

And with a tutor wished to run away.

I threatened curses, and pronounced my ban;

She yielded, and espoused a rich old man.

Their house was splendid, brimming o’er with wealth,

But suddenly the poor child lost her health,

And in a year consumption wrought her doom;

She left us mourning o’er her early tomb.

A strictly moral man have I been ever,

And never injured anybody—never.

Ivan Turgenieff, the celebrated novelist, wrote also delightfully witty Poems in Prose.

BENEFICENCE AND GRATITUDE

One day the Supreme Being took it into His head to give a great banquet in His azure palace.

All the virtues were invited. Men He did not ask—only ladies.

There was a large number of them, great and small. The lesser virtues were more agreeable and genial than the great ones; but they all appeared to be in good-humor, and chatted amiably together, as was only becoming for near relations and friends.

But the Supreme Being noticed two charming ladies who seemed to be totally unacquainted.

The Host gave one of the ladies His arm, and led her up to the other.

“Beneficence!” He said, indicating the first.

“Gratitude!” He added, indicating the second.

Both the virtues were amazed beyond expression. Ever since the world had stood—and it had been standing a long time—this was the first time they had met.

PRAYER

Whatever a man prays for, he prays for a miracle. Every prayer reduces itself to this: “Great God, grant that twice two be not four.”

Anton Chekov, writer of humorous stories, is also happy in epigrammatic wit.

PROVERBIAL WISDOM

The worst brandy is better than water.

The path to the law court is wide; the path away from it is narrow.

Even when drowning, a man wants company.

Cherish your wife as you would your salvation, and beat her as you would your coat.

A bad peace is superior to a good quarrel.

Spare the peasant your lash, but not his rubles.

Poverty is not a sin, but it’s a great deal worse.

In a storm, pray to the Lord and keep on rowing as hard as you can.

A sparrow is small; still, it’s a bird.

If your wife were a guitar, you could hang her up after playing.

Casting about for other foreign countries that might offer bits of humor written in the eighteenth or nineteenth century, we come across this from a Polish author named Kajetan Wengierski.

THE DREAM-WIFE

Strangely ’wildered must I seem;

I was married—in a dream.

Oh, the ecstasy of bliss!

Brother, what a joy is this!

Think about it, and confess

’Tis a storm of happiness,

And the memory is to me

Sunbeams. But fifteen was she:

Cheeks of roses red and white;

Mouth like Davia’s; eyes of light,

Fiery, round, of raven hue,

Swimming, but coquettish too;

Ivory teeth; lips fresh as dew;

Bosom beauteous; hand of down;

Fairy foot. She stood alone

In her graces. She was mine,

And I drank her charms divine.

*****

Yet, in early years our schemes

Are, alas! but shadowy dreams.

For a season they deceive,

Then our souls in darkness leave.

Oft the bowl the water bears,

But ’tis useless soon with years;

First it cracks, and then it leaks,

And at last—at last it breaks.

All things with beginning tend

To their melancholy end:

So her beauty fled.

*****

Then did anger, care, and malice

Mingle up their bitter chalice.

Riches like the whirlwind flew,

Honors, gifts, and friendships too;

And my lovely wife, so mild,

Fortune’s frail and flattered child,

Spent our wealth, as if the day

Ne’er would dim or pass away;

And—oh, monstrous thought!—the fair

Scratched my eyes and tore my hair.

Naught but misery was our guest.

Then I sought the parish priest:

“Father, grant me a divorce.

Nay, you’ll grant it me, of course;

Reasons many can be given—

Reasons both of earth and heaven.”

“I know all you wish to say.

Have you wherewithal to pay?

Money is a thing, of course—

Money may obtain divorce.”

“Reverend father, hear me, please ye—

’Tis not an affair so easy.”

“Silence, child! Where money’s needed,

Eloquence is superseded.”

Then I talked of morals, but

The good father’s ears were shut.

With a fierce and frowning look

Off he drove me—And I woke.

And lacking adequate translation for any more of the humorous literature of far away lands, we conclude this portion of our Outline with some Epigrams of the people of Hayti.

You can’t catch a flea with one finger.

The snake that wants to live does not keep to the highroad.

You should never blame the owner of a goat for claiming it.

The ears do not weigh more than the head.

Wait till you are across the river before you call the alligator names.

If the tortoise that comes up from the bottom of the water tells you an alligator is blind, you may believe him.

A frog in want of a shirt will ask for a pair of drawers.

The ox never says “Thank you” to the pasture.

Joke with a monkey as much as you please, but don’t play with its tail.

What business have eggs dancing with stones?

If you insist on punishing an enemy, do not make him fetch water in a basket.

The wild hog knows what tree he is rubbing against.

Hang your knapsack where you can reach it.

The pumpkin vine does not yield calabashes.

Every jack-knife found on the highway will be lost on the highway.

All wood is wood, but deal is not cedar.

It is the frog’s own tongue that betrays him.

The spoon goes to the tray’s house, but the tray never goes to the spoon’s house.

If you want your eggs hatched, sit on them yourself.