Denís Fon-Vízin tells us in his Confession (given below) what his early education was. Even the Moscow University was filled with ignorant, corrupt teachers, and in the country the conditions were naturally much worse. Nor could it have been different in the early part of Catherine’s reign. The older generation was steeped in ignorance and superstition, and the upper classes, who carried Voltaire and liberalism on their lips, ranted of a culture of the heart, which was nothing else than an excuse for extreme superficiality, as something superior to culture of the mind. Such a period is naturally productive of characters for comedy and satire. Fon-Vízin, who had the talent for satirical observation, was himself a product of the superficiality of his time. In his letters from abroad he assumed a haughty air of Russian superiority over matters French, German and European in general, aiding in the evolution of a sickly Slavophilism which a Russian critic has characterised as “subacid patriotism.” Unfortunately for their originality, most of these attacks on the French and Germans are taken from French and German sources.
Fon-Vízin wrote two comedies, The Brigadier and The Minor, both of which are regarded as classical. Neither the subjects nor the plots are original. They follow French plays; but Fon-Vízin has so excellently adapted them to the conditions of his time, and has so well portrayed the negative characters of contemporary society, that the comedies serve as an historical document of the time of Catherine II. How true to nature his Ciphers, Beastlys, Uncouths and Brigadiers are may be seen from a perusal of contemporary memoirs and the satirical journals. These give an abundance of such material, and indeed Fon-Vízin has made ample use of them. As there were no positive characters in society, so the characters of his plays that stand for right and justice are nothing more than wordy shadows.
In The Minor, of which the first act is here translated, the author gives a picture of the lower nobility, who had not yet outgrown the barbarism of the days preceding Peter’s reforms, though anxious to comply, at least outwardly, with the imperative demands of the Government. Peter the Great had promulgated a law that all the children of the nobility must immediately appear to inscribe themselves for service. These “minors” had to present a proof or certificate that they had received instruction in certain prescribed subjects. Without that certificate they could not enter any service, or get married. Up to the time of Catherine II. there were issued laws dealing with such “minors.” Mitrofán, the “minor” of the play, has become the nickname for every grown-up illiterate son of the nobility.
THE MINOR
ACT I., SCENE 1. MRS. UNCOUTH, MITROFÁN, EREMYÉEVNA
Mrs. Uncouth (examining Mitrofán’s caftan). The caftan is all ruined. Eremyéevna, bring here that thief Tríshka! (Exit Eremyéevna.) That rascal has made it too tight all around. Mitrofán, my sweet darling, you must feel dreadfully uncomfortable in your caftan! Go call father. (Exit Mitrofán.)
SCENE 2. MRS. UNCOUTH, EREMYÉEVNA, TRÍSHKA
Mrs. Uncouth (to Tríshka). You beast, come here. Didn’t I tell you, you thief’s snout, to make the caftan wide enough? In the first place, the child is growing; in the second place, the child is delicate enough, without wearing a tight caftan. Tell me, you clod, what is your excuse?
Tríshka. You know, madam, I never learned tailoring. I begged you then to give it to a tailor.
Mrs. Uncouth. So you have got to be a tailor to be able to make a decent caftan! What beastly reasoning!