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Transcriber's notes
1. The Russian names normally do not have any accents; in this
book they appear to represent the emphasized syllable. The use
of accents has been standardized, with exception of Alexander
vs. Alexánder.
2. Corrected the division into stanzas for a poem "God" (O Thou
eternal One! whose presence bright) on page 94. The translator
used nine lines where ten lines were used in the original
Russian poem.
3. Several misprints and punctuation errors corrected. A list of
corrections can be found at the end of the text.
4. Footnotes moved to chapter-ends.
A SURVEY OF RUSSIAN LITERATURE, WITH SELECTIONS
by
ISABEL F. HAPGOOD
Author of
"Russian Rambles," and "The Epic Songs of Russia"
[Illustration]
[Illustration: CHURCH OF THE CATACOMBS MONASTERY AT KIEV.]
[Illustration]
New York Chautauqua Springfield Chicago
The Chautauqua Press
MCMII
Copyright, 1902, by
The Chautauqua Press
The Lakeside Press, Chicago, Ill., U. S. A.
R. R. Donnelley & Sons Company
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. THE ANCIENT PERIOD, FROM THE EARLIEST TIMES TO THE
INTRODUCTION OF CHRISTIANITY IN 988 1
II. THE ANCIENT PERIOD, FROM THE INTRODUCTION OF CHRISTIANITY
TO THE TATÁR DOMINION, 988-1224 39
III. SECOND PERIOD, FROM THE TATÁR DOMINION TO THE TIME OF IVÁN
THE TERRIBLE, 1224-1330 47
IV. THIRD PERIOD, FROM THE TIME OF IVÁN THE TERRIBLE, 1530, TO
THE MIDDLE OF THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY 50
V. FOURTH PERIOD, FROM THE MIDDLE OF THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY
TO THE EPOCH OF REFORM UNDER PETER THE GREAT 61
VI. FIFTH PERIOD, THE REIGN OF PETER THE GREAT, 1689-1723 66
VII. SIXTH PERIOD, THE REIGN OF KATHERINE II. 1762-1796 80
VIII. SEVENTH PERIOD, FROM PÚSHKIN TO THE WRITERS OF THE FORTIES 123
IX. SEVENTH PERIOD: GONTCHARÓFF, GRIGORÓVITCH, TURGÉNEFF 161
X. SEVENTH PERIOD: OSTRÓVSKY, A. K. TOLSTÓY, POLÓNSKY,
NEKRÁSOFF, SHEVTCHÉNKO, AND OTHERS 181
XI. DOSTOÉVSKY 212
XII. SEVENTH PERIOD: DANILÉVSKY, SALTYKÓFF, L. N. TOLSTÓY,
GÓRKY, AND OTHERS 229
PREFACE.
In this volume I have given exclusively the views of Russian critics
upon their literature, and hereby acknowledge my entire indebtedness to
them.
The limits of the work, and the lack of general knowledge on the
subject, rendered it impossible for me to attempt any comparisons with
foreign literatures.
ISABEL F. HAPGOOD.
NEW YORK, June 6, 1902.
RUSSIAN LITERATURE
CHAPTER I
THE ANCIENT PERIOD, FROM THE EARLIEST TIMES TO THE INTRODUCTION OF
CHRISTIANITY IN 988.
Whether Russia had any literature, or even a distinctive alphabet,
previous to the end of the tenth century, is not known.
In the year 988, Vladímir, Grand Prince of Kíeff, accepted
Christianity for himself and his nation, from Byzantium, and baptized
Russia wholesale. Hence his characteristic title in history,
"Prince-Saint-equal-to-the-Apostles." His grandmother, Olga, had already
been converted to the Greek Church late in life, and had established
churches and priests in Kíeff, it is said. Prince Vladímir could have
been baptized at home, but he preferred to make the Greek form of
Christianity his state religion in a more decided manner; to adopt the
gospel of peace to an accompaniment of martial deeds. Accordingly he
compelled the Emperors of Byzantium, by force, to send the Patriarch of
Constantinople to baptize him, and their sister to become his wife. He
then ordered his subjects to present themselves forthwith for baptism.
Finding that their idols did not punish Vladímir for destroying them,
and that even great Perún the Thunderer did not resent being flung into
the Dniépr, the people quietly and promptly obeyed. As their old
religion had no temples for them to cling to, and nothing approaching a
priestly class (except the _volkhvýe_, or wizards) to encourage them in
opposition, the nation became Christian in a day, to all appearances. We
shall see, however, that in many cases, as in other lands converted from
heathendom, the old gods were merely baptized with new names, in company
with their worshipers.
Together with the religion which he imported from Byzantium,
"Prince-Saint" Vladímir naturally imported, also, priests, architects,
artists for the holy pictures (_ikóni_), as well as the traditional
style of painting them, ecclesiastical vestments and vessels, and--most
precious of all--the Slavonic translation of the holy Scriptures and of
the Church Service books. These books, however, were not written in
Greek, but in the tongue of a cognate Slavonic race, which was
comprehensible to the Russians. Thus were the first firm foundations of
Christianity, education, and literature simultaneously laid in the
cradle of the present vast Russian empire, appropriately called "Little
Russia," of which Kíeff was the capital; although even then they were
not confined to that section of the country, but were promptly extended,
by identical methods, to old Nóvgorod--"Lord Nóvgorod the Great," the
cradle of the dynasty of Rúrik, founder of the line of sovereign Russian
princes.
Whence came these Slavonic translations of the Scriptures, the Church
Services, and other books, and the preachers in the vernacular for the
infant Russian nation? The books had been translated about one hundred
and twenty-five years previously, for the benefit of a small Slavonic
tribe, the Moravians. This tribe had been baptized by German
ecclesiastics, whose books and speech, in the Latin tongue, were wholly
incomprehensible to their converts. For fifty years Latin had been used,
and naturally Christianity had made but little progress. Then the
Moravian Prince Róstislaff appealed to Michael, emperor of Byzantium, to
send him preachers capable of making themselves understood. The emperor
had in his dominions many Slavonians; hence the application, on the
assumption that there must be, among the Greek priests, many who were
acquainted with the languages of the Slavonic tribes. In answer to this
appeal, the Emperor Michael dispatched to Moravia two learned monks,
Kyríll and Methódy, together with several other ecclesiastics, in the
year 863.
Kyríll and Methódy were the sons of a grandee, who resided in the chief
town of Macedonia, which was surrounded by Slavonic colonies. The elder
brother, Methódy, had been a military man, and the governor of a
province containing Slavonians. The younger, Kyríll, had received a
brilliant education at the imperial court, in company with the Emperor
Michael, and had been a pupil of the celebrated Photius (afterwards
Patriarch), and librarian of St. Sophia, after becoming a monk. Later
on, the brothers had led the life of itinerant missionaries, and had
devoted themselves to preaching the Gospel to Jews and Mohammedans. Thus
they were in every way eminently qualified for their new task.
The Slavonians in the Byzantine empire, and the cognate tribes who dwelt
nearer the Danube, like the Moravians, had long been in sore need of a
Slavonic translation of the Scriptures and the Church books, since they
understood neither Greek nor Latin; and for the lack of such a
translation many relapsed into heathendom. Kyríll first busied himself
with inventing an alphabet which should accurately reproduce all the
varied sounds of the Slavonic tongues. Tradition asserts that he
accomplished this task in the year 855, founding it upon the Greek
alphabet, appropriating from the Hebrew, Armenian, and Coptic characters
for the sounds which the Greek characters did not represent, and
devising new ones for the nasal sounds. The characters in this alphabet
were thirty-eight in number. Kyríll, with the aid of his brother
Methódy, then proceeded to make his translations of the Church Service
books. The Bulgarians became Christians in the year 861, and these books
were adopted by them. But the greatest activity of the brothers was
during the four and a half years beginning with the year 862, when they
translated the holy Scriptures, taught the Slavonians their new system
of reading and writing, and struggled with heathendom and with the
German priests of the Roman Church. These German ecclesiastics are said
to have sent petition after petition to Rome, to Pope Nicholas I.,
demonstrating that the Word of God ought to be preached in three tongues
only--Hebrew, Greek, and Latin--"because the inscription on the Cross
had been written by Pilate in those tongues only." Pope Nicholas
summoned the brothers to Rome; but Pope Adrian II., who was reigning in
his stead when they arrived there, received them cordially, granted them
permission to continue their preaching and divine services in the
Slavonic language, and even consecrated Methódy bishop of Pannonia;
after which Methódy returned to Moravia, but Kyríll, exhausted by his
labors, withdrew to a monastery near Rome, and died there in 869.
The language into which Kyríll and Methódy translated was probably the
vernacular of the Slavonian tribes dwelling between the Balkans and the
Danube. But as the system invented by Kyríll took deepest root in
Bulgaria (whither, in 886, a year after Methódy's death, his disciples
were banished from Moravia), the language preserved in the ancient
transcripts of the holy Scriptures came in time to be called "Ancient
Bulgarian." In this connection, it must be noted that this does not
indicate the language of the Bulgarians, but merely the language of the
Slavonians who lived in Bulgaria. The Bulgarians themselves did not
belong to the Slavonic, nor even to the Indo-European race, but were of
Ural-Altaic extraction; that is to say, they belonged to the family now
represented in Europe by the Finns, Turks, Hungarians, Tatars, and
Samoyéds. In the seventh century, this people, which had inhabited the
country lying between the Volga and the Don, in southeastern Russia,
became divided: one section moved northward, and settled on the Káma
River, a tributary of the Volga; the other section moved westward, and
made their appearance on the Danube, at the close of the seventh
century. There they subdued a considerable portion of the Slavonic
inhabitants, being a warlike race; but the Slavonians, who were more
advanced in agriculture and more industrious than the Bulgarians,
effected a peaceful conquest over the latter in the course of the two
succeeding centuries, so that the Bulgarians abandoned their own
language and customs, and became completely merged with the Slavonians,
to whom they had given their name.
When the Slavonic translations of the Scriptures and the Church Service
books were brought to Russia from Bulgaria and Byzantium, the language
in which they were written received the name of "Church Slavonic,"
because it differed materially from the Russian vernacular, and was used
exclusively for the church services. Moreover, as in the early days of
Russian literature the majority of writers belonged to the
ecclesiastical class, the literary or book language was gradually
evolved from a mixture of Church Slavonic and ancient Russian; and in
this language all literature was written until the "civil," or secular,
alphabet and language were introduced by Peter the Great, at the
beginning of the eighteenth century. Books were written in "Kyríllian"
characters until the sixteenth century, and the first printed books
(which date from that century) were in the same characters. The most
ancient manuscripts, written previous to the fourteenth century, are
very beautiful, each letter being set separately, and the capital
letters often assuming the form of fantastic beasts and birds, or of
flowers, or gilded. The oldest manuscript of Russian work preserved
dates from the middle of the eleventh century--a magnificent parchment
copy of the Gospels, made by Deacon Grigóry for Ostromír, the
burgomaster of Nóvgorod (1056-1057), and hence known as "the Ostromír
Gospels."
But before we deal with the written and strictly speaking literary works
of Russia, we must make acquaintance with the oral products of the
people's genius, which antedate it, or at all events, contain traces of
such hoary antiquity that history knows nothing definite concerning
them, although they deserve precedence for their originality. Such are
the _skázki_, or tales, the poetical folk-lore, the epic songs, the
religious ballads. The fairy tales, while possessing analogies with
those of other lands, have their characteristic national features.
While less striking and original than, for example, the exquisite
Esthonian legends, they are of great interest in the study of
comparative folk-lore. More important is the poetical folk-lore of
Russia, concerning which neither tradition nor history can give us any
clue in the matter of derivation or date. One thing seems reasonably
certain: it largely consists of the relics of an extensive system of
sorcery, in the form of fragmentary spells, exorcisms, incantations, and
epic lays, or _bylíny_.
Song accompanies every action of the Russian peasant, from the cradle to
the grave: the choral dances of spring, summer, and autumn, the games of
the young people in their winter assemblies, marriages, funerals, and
every phase of life, the sowing and the harvest, and so forth. The kazák
songs, robber songs, soldiers' songs, and historical songs are all
descendants or imitators of the ancient poetry of Russia. They are the
remains of the third--the Moscow or imperial--cycle of the epic songs,
which deals with really historical characters and events. The Moscow
cycle is preceded by the cycles of Vladímir, or Kíeff, and of Nóvgorod.
Still more ancient must be the foundations of the marriage songs, rooted
in the customs of the ancient Slavonians.
The Slavonians do not remember the date of their arrival in Europe.
Tradition says that they first dwelt, after this arrival, along the
Danube, whence a hostile force compelled them to emigrate to the
northeast. At last Nóvgorod and Kíeff were built; and the Russians, the
descendants of these eastern Slavonians, naturally inherited the
religion which must at one time, like the language, have been common to
all the Slavonic races. This religion, like that of all Aryan races,
was founded on reverence paid to the forces of nature and to the spirits
of the dead. Their gods and goddesses represented the forces of nature.
Thus Ládo and Láda, who are frequently mentioned in these ancient songs,
are probably the sun-god, and the goddess of spring and of love,
respectively. Ládo, also, is mentioned as the god of marriage, mirth,
pleasure, and general happiness, to whom those about to marry offered
sacrifices; and much the same is said of the goddess Láda. Moreover, in
the Russian folk-songs, _ládo_ and _láda_ are used, respectively, for
lover, bridegroom, husband, and for mistress, bride, wife; and _lad_, in
Russian, signifies peace, union, harmony. Nestor, the famous old Russian
chronicler (he died in 1114), states that in ancient heathen times,
marriage customs varied somewhat among the various Slavonian tribes in
the vicinity of the Dniéster; but brides were always seized or
purchased. This purchase of the bride is supposed to be represented in
the game and choral song (_khorovód_), called "The Sowing of the
Millet." The singers form two choirs, which face each other and exchange
remarks. The song belongs to the vernal rites, hence the reference to
Ládo, which is repeated after every line--_Did-Ládo_, meaning (in
Lithuanian) Great Ládo:
First Chorus: We have sown, we have sown millet, Oï, Did-Ládo, we
have sown!
Second Chorus: But we will trample it, Oï, Did-Ládo, we will
trample it.
First Chorus: But wherewith will ye trample it?
Second Chorus: Horses will we turn into it.
First Chorus: But we will catch the horses.
Second Chorus: Wherewith will ye catch them?
First Chorus: With a silken rein.
Second Chorus: But we will ransom the horses.
First Chorus: Wherewith will ye ransom them?
Second Chorus: We will give a hundred rubles.
First Chorus: A thousand is not what we want.
Second Chorus: What is it then, that ye want?
First Chorus: What we want is a maiden.
Thereupon, one of the girls of the second choir goes over to the first,
both sides singing together: "Our band has lost," and "Our band has
gained." The game ends when all the girls have gone over to one side.
The funeral wails are also very ancient. While at the present day a very
talented wailer improvises a new plaint, which her associates take up
and perpetuate, the ancient forms are generally used.
From the side of the East,
The wild winds have arisen,
With the roaring thunders
And the lightnings fiery.
On my father's grave
A star hath fallen,
Hath fallen from heaven.
Split open, O dart of the thunder!
Damp Mother Earth,
Fall thou apart, O Mother Earth!
On all four sides,
Split open, O coffin planks,
Unfold, O white shroud,
Fall away, O white hands
From over the bold heart,
And become parted, O ye sweet lips.
Turn thyself, O mine own father
Into a bright, swift-winged falcon;
Fly away to the blue sea, to the Caspian Sea,
Wash off, O mine own father,
From thy white face the mold.
Come flying, O my father
To thine own home, to the lofty térem.[1]
Listen, O my father,
To our songs of sadness!
The Christmas and New-Year carols offer additional illustrations of the
ancient heathen customs, and mythic or ritual poetry. The festival which
was almost universally celebrated at Christmas-tide, in ancient heathen
times, seems to have referred to the renewed life attributed to the sun
after the winter solstice. The Christian church turned this festival, so
far as possible, into a celebration of the birth of Christ. Among the
Slavonians this festival was called _Kolyáda_; and the sun--a female
deity--was supposed to array herself in holiday robes and head-dress,
when the gloom of the long nights began to yield to the cheerful lights
of the lengthening days, to seat herself in her chariot, and drive her
steeds briskly towards summer. She, like the festival, was called
Kolyáda; and in some places the people used to dress up a maiden in
white and carry her about in a sledge from house to house, while the
_kolyádki_, or carols, were sung by the train of young people who
attended her, and received presents in return. One of the _kolyádki_
runs as follows:
Kolyáda! Kolyáda!
Kolyáda has arrived!
On the Eve of the Nativity,
We went about, we sought Holy Kolyáda;
Through all the courts, in all the alleys.
We found Kolyáda in Peter's Court.
Round Peter's Court there is an iron fence,
In the midst of the Court there are three rooms;
In the first room is the bright Moon;
In the second room is the red Sun;
And in the third room are the many Stars.
A Christian turn is given to many of them, just as the Mermen bear a
special Biblical name in some places, and are called "Pharaohs"; for
like the seals on the coast of Iceland, they are supposed to be the
remnants of Pharaoh's host, which was drowned in the Red Sea. One of the
most prominent and interesting of these Christianized carols is the
_Sláva_, or Glory Song. Extracts from it have been decoratively and most
appropriately used on the artistic programmes connected with the
coronation of the Emperor Nicholas II. This Glory Song is used in the
following manner: The young people assemble together to deduce omens
from the words that are sung, while trinkets belonging to each person
present are drawn at random from a cloth-covered bowl, in which they
have been deposited. This is the first song of the series:
Glory to God in Heaven, Glory!
To our Lord[2] on this earth, Glory!
May our Lord never grow old, Glory!
May his bright robes never be spoiled, Glory!
May his good steeds never be worn out, Glory!
May his trusty servants never falter, Glory!
May the right throughout Russia, Glory!
Be fairer than the bright sun, Glory!
May the Tzar's golden treasury, Glory!
Be forever full to the brim, Glory!
May the great rivers, Glory!
Bear their renown to the sea, Glory!
The little streams to the mill, Glory!
But this song we sing to the Grain, Glory!
To the Grain we sing, the Grain we honor, Glory!
For the old folks to enjoy, Glory!
For the young folks to hear, Glory![3]
Another curious old song, connected with the grain, is sung at the
New-Year. Boys go about from house to house, scattering grain of
different sorts, chiefly oats, and singing:
In the forest, in the pine forest,
There stood a pine-tree,
Green and shaggy.
O, Ovsén! O, Ovsén!
The Boyárs came,
Cut down the pine,
Sawed it into planks,
Built a bridge,
Covered it with cloth,
Fastened it with nails,
O, Ovsén! O, Ovsén!
Who, who will go
Along that bridge?
Ovsén will go there,
And the New-Year,
O, Ovsén! O, Ovsén!
Ovsén, whose name is derived from Ovés (oats, pronounced _avyós_), like
the Teutonic Sun-god, is supposed to ride a pig or a boar. Hence
sacrifices of pigs' trotters, and other pork products, were offered to
the gods at the New-Year, and such dishes are still preferred in Russia
at that season. It must be remembered that the New-Year fell on March
1st in Russia until 1348; then the civil New-Year was transferred to
September 1st, and January 1st was instituted as the New-Year by Peter
the Great only in the year 1700.
The highest stage of development reached by popular song is the heroic
epos--the rhythmic story of the deeds of national heroes, either
historical or mythical. In many countries these epics were committed to
writing at a very early date. In western Europe this took place in the
Middle Ages, and they are known to the modern world in that form only,
their memory having completely died out among the people. But Russia
presents the striking phenomenon of a country where epic song, handed
down wholly by oral tradition for nearly a thousand years, is not only
flourishing at the present day in certain districts, but even extending
into fresh fields.
It is only within the last sixty years that the Russians have become
generally aware that their country possesses this wonderfully rich
treasure of epic, religious, and ceremonial songs. In some cases, the
epic lay and the religious ballad are curiously combined, as in "The One
and Forty Pilgrims," which is generally classed with the epic songs,
however. But while the singing of the epic songs is not a profession,
the singing of the religious ballads is of a professional character, and
is used as a means of livelihood by the _kalyéki perekhózhie_,
literally, wandering cripples, otherwise known as wandering
psalm-singers. These _stikhí_, or religious ballads, are even more
remarkable than the epic songs in some respects, and practically nothing
concerning them is accessible in English.
In all countries where the Roman Church reigned supreme in early times,
it did its best to consign all popular religious poetry to oblivion. But
about the seventeenth century it determined to turn such fragments as
had survived this procedure to its own profit. Accordingly they were
written over in conformity with its particular tenets, for the purpose
of inculcating its doctrines. Both courses were equally fatal to the
preservation of anything truly national. Incongruousness was the
inevitable result.
The Greek, or rather the Russo-Greek, Church adopted precisely the
opposite course: it never interfered, in the slightest degree, with
popular poetry, either secular or religious. Christianity, therefore,
merely enlarged the field of subjects. The result is, that the Slavonic
peoples (including even, to some extent, the Roman Catholic Poles)
possess a mass of religious poetry, the like of which, either in kind or
in quantity, is not to be found in all western Europe.
It is well to note, at this point, that the word _stikh_ (derived from
an ancient Greek word) is incorporated into the modern Russian word for
poetry, _stikhotvorénie_--verse-making, literally rendered--and it has
now become plain that Lomonósoff, the father of Russian Literature, who
was the first secular Russian poet, and polished the ancient tongue into
the beginning of the modern literary language, about the middle of the
eighteenth century, did not originate his verse-measures, but derived
them from the common people, the peasants, whence he himself sprang.
Modern Russian verse, therefore, is thus traced back directly, in its
most national traits, to these religious ballads. It is impossible to
give any adequate account of them here, and it is especially difficult
to convey an adequate idea of the genuine poetry and happy phrasing
which are often interwoven with absurdities approaching the grotesque.
The ballads to which we shall briefly refer are full of illustrations of
the manner in which old pagan gods became Christian deities, so to
speak, of the newly baptized nation. For example: Perún the Thunder-god
became, in popular superstition, "St. Ilyá" (or Elijah), and the day
dedicated to him, July 20th (old style), is called "Ilyá the
Thunder-bringer." Elijah's fiery chariot, the lightning, rumbling across
the sky, brings a thunder-storm on or very near that date; and although
Perún's name is forgotten in Russia proper, he still remains, under his
new title, the patron of the husbandman, as he was in heathen times. In
the epic songs of the Vladímir cycle, as well as in the semi-religious
and religious ballads, he figures as the strongest and most popular
hero, under the name of "Ilyá Múrometz (Ilyá of Múrom), the Old Kazák,"
and his characteristic feats, as well as those attributed to his "heroic
steed, Cloud-fall," are supposed, by the school of Russian writers who
regard all these poems as cosmic myths, rather than as historical poems,
to preserve the hero's mythological significance as the Thunder-god
Perún.
He plays a similar part in the very numerous religious ballads on the
Last Judgment. St. Michael acts as the judge. Some "sinful souls" commit
the gross error of attempting to bribe him: whereupon, Michael shouts,
"Ilyá the Prophet! Anakh! Take ye guns with great thunder! Move ye the
Pharaoh mountains of stone! Let me not hear from these sinners, neither
a whine nor a whimper!"
In Lithuania the Thunder-god's ancient name is still extant in its
original form of Perkun; the Virgin Mary is called, "Lady Mary
Perkunatele" (or "The Mother of Thunder"), according to a Polish
tradition; and in the Russian government of Vilna, the 2d of February is
dedicated to "All-Holy Mary the Thunderer." It is evidently in this
character that she plays a part similar to that of St. Michael and Ilyá
the Prophet combined, as above mentioned, in another ballad of the Last
Judgment. She appears in this ballad to be the sole inhabitant of
heaven, judge and executioner. With her "thundering voice" she condemns
to outer darkness all who have not paid her proper respect, promising to
bury them under "damp mother earth and burning stones." To the just,
that is, to those who have paid her due homage, she says: "Come, take
the thrones, the golden crowns, the imperishable robes which I have
prepared for you; and if this seem little to you, ye shall work your
will in heaven."
St. Yegóry the Brave--our St. George--possesses many of the attributes
of Perún. He is, however, a purely mythical character, and the extremely
ancient religious poems relating to him present the most amusing mixture
of Christianity and Greek mythology, as in the following example:
In the year 8008 (the old Russian reckoning, like the Jewish, began with
the creation of the world), the kingdoms of Sodom, Komor (Gomorrah), and
Arabia met their doom. Sodom dropped through the earth, Komor was
destroyed by fire, and Arabia was afflicted by a sea-monster which
demanded a human victim every day. This victim was selected by lot; and
one day the lot fell upon the king; but at the suggestion of the queen,
who hated her daughter, Elizabeth the Fair, the girl was sent in his
place, under the pretext that she was going to meet her bridegroom.
Yegóry the Brave comes to her assistance, as Perseus did to the
assistance of Andromeda, but lies down for a nap while awaiting the
arrival of the dragon. The beast approaches; Elizabeth dares not awaken
Yegóry, but a "burning tear" from her right eye arouses him. He attacks
the dragon with his spear, and his "heroic steed" (which is sometimes a
white mule) tramples on it, after the fashion with which we are familiar
in art. Then he binds Elizabeth's sash, which is "five and forty ells in
length," about the dragon's jaws, and bids the maiden have three
churches built in honor of her deliverance: one to St. Nicholas and the
Holy Trinity, one to the All-Holy Birth-giver of God, and one to Yegóry
the Brave. Elizabeth the Fair then returns to town, leading the tamed
dragon by her sash, to the terror of the inhabitants and to the disgust
of her mother. The three churches are duly built, and Christianity is
promptly adopted as the state religion of Arabia. In another ballad,
Yegóry is imprisoned for thirty years in a pit under the ground, because
he will not accept the "Latin-Mussulman faith."
Among the most ancient religious ballads, properly speaking, are: "The
Dove Book," "The Merciful Woman of Compassion" (or "The Alleluia
Woman"), "The Wanderings of the All-Holy Birth-giver of God," in
addition to the songs about Yegóry the Brave, already mentioned. The
groundwork of "The Dove Book" is of very ancient heathen origin, and
almost identical with the oldest religious songs of the Greeks. The book
itself is somewhat suggestive of the "little book" in Revelation. "The
Dove Book" falls from Alatýr, the "burning white stone on the Island of
Buyán," the heathen Paradise, which corresponds to our Fortunate Isles
of the Blest, in the Western Sea, but lies far towards sunrise, in the
"Ocean Sea." The heathen significance of this stone is not known, but it
is cleverly explained in "The Dove Book" as the stone whereon Christ
stood when he preached to his disciples. This "little book," "forty
fathoms long and twenty wide," was written by St. John the Evangelist,
and no man can read it. The prophet Isaiah deciphered only three pages
of it in as many years. But the "Most Wise Tzar David" undertakes to
give, from memory, the book's answers to various questions put to him by
Tzar Vladímir, as spokesman of a throng of emperors and princes. A great
deal of curious information is conveyed--all very poetically
expressed--including some odd facts in natural history, such as: that
the ostrich is the mother of birds, and that she lives, feeds, and rears
her young on the blue sea, drowning mariners and sinking ships. Whenever
she (or the whale on which the earth rests) moves, an earthquake ensues.
There are several versions of this ballad. The following abridged
extracts, from one version, will show its style. Among the questions put
to "the Most Wise Tzar David" by Prince Vladímir are some touching "the
works of God, and our life; our life of holy Russia, our life in the
free world; how the free light came to us; why our sun is red; why our
stars are thickly sown; why our nights are dark; what causes our red
dawns; why we have fine, drizzling rains; whence cometh our intellect;
why our bones are strong"; and so forth.
Tzar David replies: "Our free white light began at God's decree; the sun
is red from the reflection of God's face, of the face of Christ, the
King of Heaven; the younger light, the moon, from his bosom cometh; the
myriad stars are from his vesture; the dark nights are the Lord's
thoughts; the red dawns come from the Lord's eyes; the stormy winds from
the Holy Spirit; our intellects from Christ himself, the King of Heaven;
our thoughts from the clouds of heaven; our world of people from Adam;
our strong bones from the stones; our bodies from the damp earth; our
blood from the Black Sea." In answer to other questions, Tzar David
explains that "the Jordan is the mother of all rivers, because Jesus
Christ was baptized in it; the cypress is the mother of all trees,
because Christ was crucified on it; the ocean is the mother of all seas,
because in the middle of the ocean-sea rose up a cathedral church, the
goal of all pilgrimages, the cathedral of St. Clement, the pope of Rome;
from this cathedral the Queen of Heaven came forth, bathed herself in
the ocean-sea, prayed to God in the cathedral," which is a very unusual
touch of Romanism.
The ancient religious ballads have no rhyme; and, unlike the epic songs,
no fixed rhythm. The presence of either rhyme or rhythm is an indication
of comparatively recent origin or of reconstruction in the sixteenth
century.
"The Merciful Woman of Compassion," or "The Alleluia Woman," dates from
the most ancient Christian tradition, and is a model of simplicity and
beauty. It is allied to the English ballad of "The Flight into Egypt"
(which also occurs among the Christmas carols of the Slavonians of the
Carpathian Mountains), in which the Virgin Mary works a miracle with the
peasant's grain, in order to save Christ from the Jews in pursuit. The
Virgin comes to the "Alleluia Woman," with the infant Christ in her
arms, saying: "Cast thy child into the oven, and take Christ the Lord in
thy lap. His enemies, the Jews, are hastening hither; they seek to kill
Christ the Lord with sharp spears." The Alleluia Woman obeys, without an
instant's hesitation. When the Jews arrive, immediately afterwards, and
inquire if Christ has passed that way, she says she has thrown him into
the oven. The Jews are convinced of the truth of her statement, by the
sight of a child's hand amid the flames; whereupon they dance for joy,
and depart, after fastening an iron plate over the oven door. Christ
vanishes from the arms of the merciful woman; she remembers her own
child and begins to weep. Then Christ's voice assures her that he is
well and happy. On opening the oven door, she beholds her baby playing
with the flowers in a rich green meadow, reading the Gospels, or rolling
an apple on a platter, and comforted by angels.
"The Wanderings of the All-Holy Birth-giver of God," another very
ancient ballad, represents the Virgin Mother wandering among the
mountains in search of Christ. She encounters three Jews; and in answer
to her query, "Accursed Jews, what have ye done with Christ?" they
inform her that they have just crucified him on Mount Zion. She hastens
thither, and swoons on arriving. When she recovers, she makes her
lament, and her _plakh_, or wail, beginning: "O, my dear son, why didst
thou not obey thy mother?" Christ comforts her, telling her that he
shall rise again, and bidding her: "Do not weep and spoil thy beauty." A
form of the ballad which is common in Little Russia reverses the
situation. It is the Jews who inquire of Mary what she has done with her
son. "Into the river I flung him," she promptly replies. They drain the
river, and find him not. Again they ask, "Under the mountains I buried
him." They dig up the mountains, and find him not. At last they discover
a church, and in it three coffins. Over the Holy Virgin's, the birds are
warbling or flowers are blossoming; over John the Baptist's, lights are
burning; over Christ's, angels are singing.
As might be expected, the Holy Virgin is a very popular subject of song.
In numerous ballads she delivers a temperance lecture to St. Vasíly the
Great on his drunkenness, putting to him various questions, such as,
"Who sleeps through matins? Who walks and riots during the liturgy?"
[St. Vasíly being the author of a liturgy which is used on certain
important occasions during the church year.] "Who has unwashed hands?
Who is a murderer?" and so on, through a long list of peccadilloes and
crimes. The answer to each question is, "The drunkard." Poor St. Vasíly
dashes his head against a stone, and threatens to put an end to himself
on the spot, if his one lapse in five and twenty years be not forgiven.
Accordingly the Holy Virgin steps down from her throne, gives him her
hand, and informs him that the Lord has three mansions: one is the House
of David, where the Last Judgment will take place; through the second
flows a river of fire, the destination of wizards, drunkards, and the
like; and the third is Paradise, the home of the elect. The imagery in
the very numerous and ancient poems on the Last Judgment, by the way, is
purely heathen in character. The ferryman over the river of fire
sometimes acts as the judge, and the punishments to which sinners are
condemned by him recall those mentioned in the Æneid, and in Dante's
Divina Commedia, the frescoes on the walls of churches bearing out the
same idea.
Adam and Eve naturally receive a share of the minstrel's attention, and
"Adam's Wail" before the gates of Paradise is often very touching. In a
ballad from White Russia, Adam begs the Lord to permit him to revisit
Paradise. The Lord accordingly gives orders to "St. Peter-Paul" to admit
Adam to Paradise, to have the song of the Cherubim sung for him, and so
forth; but not to allow him to remain. In the midst of Paradise Adam
beholds his coffin and wails before it: "O, my coffin, coffin, my true
home! Take me, O my coffin, as a mother her own child, to thy white
arms, to thy ruddy face, to thy warm heart!" But "St. Peter-Paul" soon
catches sight of him, and tells him that he has no business to be
strolling about and spying out Paradise; his place is on Zion's hill,
where he will be shown books of magic, and of life, and things in
general.
There is a great mass of poetry devoted to Joseph; and a lament to
"Mother Desert," uttered as he is being led away into captivity by the
merchants to whom his brethren have sold him, soon becomes the
groundwork for variations in which the Scripture story is entirely
forgotten. In these Joseph is always a "Tzarévitch," or king's son, his
father being sometimes David, sometimes "the Tzar of India," or of "the
Idolaters' Land," or some such country. He is confined in a tower,
because the soothsayers have foretold that he will become a Christian
(or because he is already a Christian he shuts himself up). One day he
is permitted to ride about the town, and although all old people have
been ordered to keep out of sight, he espies one aged cripple, and thus
learns that his father has grossly deceived him, in asserting that no
one ever becomes old or ill in his kingdom. He forthwith becomes a
Christian, and flees to the desert. Then comes his wail to "Mother
Desert Most Fair," as she stands "afar off in the valley": "O Desert
fair, receive me to thy depths, as a mother her own child, and a pastor
his faithful sheep, into thy voiceless quiet, beloved mother mine!"
"Mother Desert" proceeds to remonstrate with her "beloved child": "Who
is to rule," she says, "over thy kingdom, thy palaces of white stone,
thy young bride? When spring cometh, all the lakes will be aflood, all
the trees will be clothed with verdure, heavenly birds will warble
therein with voices angelic: in the desert thou wilt have none of this;
thy food will be fir-bark, thy drink marsh-water." Nevertheless, "Joseph
Tzarévitch" persists in his intention, and Mother Desert receives him at
last. Most versions of this ballad are full of genuine poetry, but a few
are rather ludicrous: for example, "Mother Desert" asks Joseph, "How
canst thou leave thy sweet viands and soft feather-beds to come to me?"
Of David, strange to say, we find very little mention, save in the "Dove
Book," or as the father of Joseph, or of some other equally preposterous
person.
Among the ballads on themes drawn from the New Testament, those relating
to the birth of Christ, and the visit of the Wise Men; to John the
Baptist, and to Lazarus, are the most numerous. The Three Wise Men
sometimes bring queer gifts. One ballad represents them as being
Lithuanians, and only two in number, who bring Christ offerings of
_botvínya_--a savory and popular dish, in the form of a soup served
cold, with ice, and composed of small beer brewed from sour, black, rye
bread, slightly thickened with strained spinach, in which float cubes of
fresh cucumber, the green tops of young onions, cold boiled fish,
horseradish, bacon, sugar, shrimps, any cold vegetables on hand, and
whatever else occurs to the cook. Joseph stands by the window, holding a
bowl and a spoon, and stares at the gift. "Queer people, you
Lithuanians," he remarks. "Christ doesn't eat _botvínya_. He eats only
rolls with milk and honey (or rolls and butter)." In one case, the Three
Wise Men appear as three buffaloes bringing gifts; in another as "the
fine rain, the red sun, and the bright moon," showing that nature
worship can assume a very fair semblance of Christianity.
Christ's baptism is sometimes represented by his mother bathing him in
the river; and this is thought to stand for the weary sun which is
bathed every night in the ocean. A "Legend of the Sun," whose
counterpart can be found in other lands, represents the sun as being
attended by flaming birds, who dip their wings in the ocean at night and
sprinkle him, and by angels who carry his imperial robe and crown to the
Lord's throne every night, and clothe him again in them every morning,
while the cock proclaims the "resurrection of all things." In the
Christmas carols, angels perform the same offices, and the flaming
phoenix-birds are omitted.
The Apostle Peter's timid and disputatious character seems to be well
understood by the people. One day, according to a ballad, he gets into a
dispute with the Lord, as to which is the larger, heaven or earth. "The
earth," declares St. Peter; "Heaven," maintains the Lord. "But let us
not quarrel. Call down two or three angels to measure heaven and earth
with a silken cord. So was it done; and lo! St. Peter was right, and the
Lord was wrong! Heaven is the smaller, because it is all level, while
the earth has hills and valleys!"
On another occasion, "all the saints were sitting at table, except the
Holy Spirit." "Peter, Peter, my servant," says the Lord, "go bring the
Holy Spirit." Peter has not traversed half the road, when he encounters
a wondrous marvel, a fearful fire. He trembles with fear and turns
back. "Why hast thou not brought the Holy Spirit?" inquires the Lord.
Peter explains. "Ho, Peter, that is no marvel! that is the Holy Spirit.
Thou shouldst have brought it hither and placed it on the table. All the
saints would have rejoiced that the Holy Spirit sat before them!"
The Lazarus ballads illustrate how the people turn Scriptural characters
into living realities, by incorporating their own observations on human
nature with the sacred text. According to them, Lazarus and Dives were
two brothers, both named Lazarus; the younger rich, the elder poor. Poor
Lazarus begs alms of his brother: "How dare you call me brother?"
retorts rich Lazarus. "I have brothers like myself--princes, nobles,
wealthy merchants, who fare sumptuously and dress richly. Even the
church dignitaries visit me. Your brethren are the fierce dogs which lie
under my table and gather up the fragments. I fear not God, I will buy
off intrusive death, I will attain to the kingdom of heaven; and if I
attain not thereunto, I will buy it!" Thereupon, he sets the dogs on his
brother, spits in his eye, locks the gates, and goes back to his
feasting. The dogs which are set upon poor Lazarus bring him their food,
instead of rending him. After three efforts to move his brother to
compassion, poor Lazarus entreats the Lord to let him die: "Send sudden
death, Lord, winged but not merciful," he prays. "Send two threatening
angels; let them take out my unclean soul through my side with a hook,
my little soul through my ribs, with a spear and with iron hooks; let
them place my soul under their left wing, and carry it to the nethermost
hell, to burning pitch and the river of fire. All my life have I
suffered hunger and cold, and my whole body hath been full of pains. It
is not for me, a poor cripple, to enter Paradise." (This is in
accordance with the uncomfortable Russian belief that a man's rank and
station in this life determine his fate in the other world.) But the
Lord gives orders to have everything done in precisely the opposite way.
Holy angels remove Lazarus's soul gently, through his "sugar mouth"
(referring, possibly, to the Siberian belief that the soul is located in
the windpipe) wrap it in a white cloth, and carry it to Abraham's bosom.
After a while rich Lazarus is overtaken by misfortune and illness, and
he, also, prays for speedy death, minutely specifying how his "large,
clean soul," is to be handled and deposited in Abraham's bosom. He
acknowledges that he has committed a few trivial sins, but mentions,
with pride, in extenuation, that he has never worn anything but velvet
and satin, and that he formerly possessed great store of "flowered
garments." Again the Lord gives contrary orders, and rich Lazarus
undergoes the treatment which his poor brother had indicated for his own
soul. When rich Lazarus looks up from his torment and beholds poor
Lazarus in Abraham's bosom, he addresses him as "Brother, my own
brother." Here one version comes to a sudden end, and the collector who
transcribed it, asked: "What?" "He repented," answered the peasant woman
who sang it, "and called him 'brother' when he saw that he was well
off." In other versions, a long conversation ensues, in the course of
which poor Lazarus reminds rich Lazarus of numerous sins of omission and
commission, and inquires, with great apparent solicitude, what has
become of all his gold, silver, flowered garments, and so forth, and
assures him that he would gladly give him not a drop but a whole
bucketful of water were he permitted to do so.
But to the share of no saint does a greater number of songs (and
festivals) fall than to that of John the Baptist. In addition to June
24th, which still bears the heathen name of _Kupálo_, in connection with
St. John's Eve, and which is celebrated by the peasants in as thoroughly
heathen a fashion as is the Christmas festival, in honor of the
Sun-goddess, Kolyáda, he has three special days dedicated to him. Two of
these deserve mention, because of a curious superstition attached to
them. On St. John's Day, May 25th, the peasants set out their cabbages;
but on the autumn St. John's Day, August 29th, they must carefully avoid
all contact with cabbages, because it is the anniversary of the
beheading of John; no knife must be taken in the hand on that day, and
it is considered a great crime to cut anything, particularly anything
round, resembling a head. If a cabbage be cut, blood will flow; if
anything round be eaten--onions, for example--carbuncles will follow.
In concluding this brief sketch of the religious ballads of the
Slavonians, I venture to quote at length, a masterpiece of the Wandering
Cripples' art. It is a Montenegrin version of a legend which is common
to all the Slavonic peoples, and contains, besides an interesting
problem in ethics, an explanation of the present shape of the human
foot. In some versions the emperor's crown is replaced, throughout, by
"the bright sun," thus suggesting a mythological origin. It is called
"The Emperor Diocletian and John the Baptist."
Two foster brothers were drinking wine,
On a sunny slope by the salt seaside;
One was the Emperor Diocletian,
The other, John the Baptist.
Then up spake John the Baptist
As they did drink the wine:
"Foster brother, come now, let us play.
Use thou thy crown; but I will take an apple."
Then up they jumped, began to play,
And St. John flung his apple.
Down in the depths of the sea it fell
And his warm tears trickled down.
But the emperor held this speech to him:
"Now weep not, dear my brother,
Only carry thou not my crown away
And I will fetch thy apple."
Then did John swear to him by God
That he would not steal the crown.
The emperor swam out into the sea,
But John flew up to heaven,
Presented himself before the Lord,
And held this speech to him:
"Eternal God, and All-Holy Father!
May I swear falsely by thee?
May I steal the emperor's crown?"
The Lord replied:
"O John, my faithful servant!
Thrice shalt thou swear falsely by me,
Only, by my name must thou not swear."
St. John flew back to the sunny slope,
And the emperor emerged from the sea.
Again they played; again John flung his apple;
Again it fell into the depths of the sea.
But Diocletian, the emperor, said to him:
"Now, fear thou not, dear brother,
Only carry thou my crown not away,
And I will fetch thy apple."
Then did John swear to him by God,
Thrice did he swear to him by God
That he would not steal his crown.
The emperor threw his crown under his cap,
Beside them left the bird of ill omen,
And plunged into the blue sea.
St. John froze over the sea,
With a twelve-fold ice-crust he froze it o'er,
Seized the golden crown, flew on high to heaven.
And the bird of ill omen began to caw.
The emperor, at the bottom of the sea, divined the cause,
Raced up, as for a wager,
Brake three of the ice-crusts with his head,
Then back turned he again, took a stone upon his head,
A little stone of three thousand pounds,
And brake the twelve-fold ice.
Then unfolded he his wings,
Set out in pursuit of John,
Caught up with him at the gate of heaven,
Seized him by his right foot,
And what he grasped, he tore away.
In tears came John before the Lord;
The bright sun brought he to heaven,
And John complained unto the Lord,
That the emperor had crippled him.
And the Lord said:
"Fear not, my faithful servant!
I will do the same to every man."
Such is the fact, and to God be the glory!
"Therefore," say the Servians, in conclusion of their version of this
ballad, "God has made a hollow in the sole of every human being's foot."
The Epic Songs, properly speaking, are broadly divisible into three
groups: the Cycle of Vladímir, or of Kíeff; that of Nóvgorod; and that
of Moscow, or the Imperial Cycle, the whole being preceded by the songs
of the elder heroes. With regard to the first two, and the Kíeff Cycle
in particular, undoubtedly composed during the tenth, eleventh, and
twelfth centuries, authorities on the origin of Russian literature
differ considerably. One authority maintains that, although the Russian
epics possess a family likeness to the heroic legends of other Aryan
races, the Russians forgot them, and later on, appropriated them again
from Ural-Altaic sources, adding a few historical and geographical
names, and psychical characteristics. But this view as to the wholesale
appropriation of Oriental myths has not been established, and the
authorities who combat it demonstrate that the heroes are thoroughly
Russian, and that the pictures of manners and customs which they present
are extremely valuable for their accuracy. They would seem, on the
whole, to be a characteristic mixture of natural phenomena (nature
myths), personified as gods, who became in course of time legendary
heroes. Thus, Prince Vladímir, "the Fair Red Sun," may be the Sun-god,
but he is also a historical personage, whatever may be said as to many
of the other characters in the epic lays of the Vladímir cycle. "Sadkó,
the rich Guest of Nóvgorod," also, in the song of that title, belonging
to the Nóvgorod cycle, was a prominent citizen of Nóvgorod, who built a
church in Nóvgorod, during the twelfth century, and is referred to in
the Chronicles for a space of two hundred years. In fact, the Nóvgorod
cycle contains less of the personified phenomena of nature than the
cycle of the Elder Heroes, and the Kíeff cycle, and more of the genuine
historical element.
A regular tonic versification forms one of the indispensable properties
of these epic poems; irregularity of versification is a sign of decay,
and a complete absence of measure, that is to say, the prose form, is
the last stage of decay. The airs to which they are sung or chanted are
very simple, consisting of but few tones, yet are extremely difficult
to note down. The peasant bard modifies the one or two airs to which he
chants his lays with astonishing skill, according to the testimony of
Rýbnikoff, who made the first large collection of the songs, in the
Olónetz government (1859), and Hilferding, who made a still more
surprising collection (1870), to the north and east of Olónetz.
The lay of Sadkó, above mentioned, is perhaps the most famous--the one
most frequently alluded to in Russian literature and art. Sadkó was a
harper of "Lord Nóvgorod the Great." "No golden treasures did he
possess. He went about to the magnificent feasts of the merchants and
nobles, and made all merry with his playing." Once, for three days in
succession, he was bidden to no worshipful feast, and in his sorrow he
went and played all day long, upon the shore of Lake Ílmen. On the third
day, the Water King appears to him, and thanks him for entertaining his
guests in the depths. He directs Sadkó to return to Nóvgorod, and on the
morrow, when he shall be bidden to a feast, and the banqueters begin the
characteristic brags of their possessions, Sadkó must wager his
"turbulent head" against the merchants' shop in the bazaar, with all the
precious wares therein, that Lake Ílmen contains fishes with fins of
gold. Sadkó wins the bet; for the Tzar Vodyanóy sends up the fish to be
caught in the silken net. Thus did Sadkó become a rich guest (merchant
of the first class) of Nóvgorod, built himself a palace of white stone,
wondrously adorned, and became exceeding rich. He also held worshipful
feasts, and out-bragged the braggers, declaring that he would buy all
the wares in Nóvgorod, or forfeit thirty thousand in money. As he
continues to buy, wares continue to flow into this Venice of the North,
and Sadkó decides that it is the part of wisdom to pay his thirty
thousand. He then builds "thirty dark red ships and three," of the
dragon type, lades them with the wares of Nóvgorod, and sails out into
the open sea, via the river Vólkhoff, Lake Ládoga, and the Nevá. After a
while the ships stand still and will not stir, though the waves dash and
the breeze whistles through the sails. Sadkó arrives at the conclusion
that the Sea King demands tribute, as they have now been sailing the
seas for twelve years, and have paid none. They cast into the waves
casks of red gold, pure silver, and fair round pearls; but still the
ships move not. Sadkó then proposes that each man on board shall prepare
for himself a lot, and cast it into the sea, and the man whose lot sinks
shall consider himself the sacrifice which the Sea King requires.
Sadkó's lot persists in sinking, whether he makes it of hop-flowers or
of blue damaskeened steel, four hundred pounds in weight; and all the
other lots swim, whether heavy or light. Accordingly Sadkó perceives
that he is the destined victim, and taking his harp, a holy image of St.
Nicholas (the patron of travelers), and bowls of precious things with
him, he has himself abandoned on an oaken plank, while his ships sailed
off, and "flew as they had been black ravens." He sinks to the bottom,
and finds himself in the palace of the Sea King, who makes him play,
while he, the fair sea-maidens, and the other sea-folk dance violently.
But the Tzarítza warns Sadkó to break his harp, for it is the waves
dancing on the shore, and creating terrible havoc. The Tzar Morskóy then
requests Sadkó to select a wife; and guided again by the Tzarítza's
advice, Sadkó selects the last of the nine hundred maidens who file
before him--a small, black-visaged maiden, named Tchernáva. Had he
chosen otherwise, he is told, he would never again behold "the white
world," but must "forever abide in the blue sea." After a great feast
which the Sea King makes for him, Sadkó falls into a heavy sleep, and
when he awakens from it, he finds himself on the bank of the Tchernáva
River, and sees his dark red ships come speeding up the Vólkhoff River.
Sadkó returns to his palace and his young wife, builds two churches, and
roams no more, but thereafter takes his ease in his own town.
Between these cycles of epic songs and the Moscow, or Imperial Cycle
there is a great gap. The pre-Tatár period is not represented, and the
cycle proper begins with Iván the Terrible, and ends with the reign of
Peter the Great. Epic marvels are not wholly lacking in the Moscow
cycle, evidently copied from the earlier cycles. But these songs are
inferior in force. Fantastic as are some of the adventures in these
songs, there is always a solid historical foundation. Iván the Terrible,
for instance, is credited with many deeds of his grandfather (his father
being ignored), and is always represented in rather a favorable light.
The conquest of Siberia, the capture of Kazán and Ástrakhan, the wars
against Poland, and the Tatárs of Crimea, and so forth, are the
principal points around which these songs are grouped. But the Peter the
Great of the epics bears only a faint resemblance to the real Peter.
Perhaps the most famous hero of epic song in the seventeenth century is
the bandit-chief of the Volga, Sténka Rázin, whose memory still lingers
among the peasants of those regions. He was regarded as the champion of
the people against the oppression of the nobles, and "Ilyá of Múrom, the
Old Kazák" is represented as the captain of the brigands under him. To
Sténka, also, are attributed magic powers. From the same period date
also the two most popular dance-songs of the present day--the
"Kamarýnskaya" and "Bárynya Sudárynya," its sequel. The Kamarýnskaya was
the district which then constituted the Ukraína, or border-marches,
situated about where the government of Orél now is. The two songs
present a valuable historical picture of the coarse manners of the
period on that lawless frontier; hence, only a few of the lines which
still subsist of these poetical chronicles can be used to the
irresistibly dashing music.
The power of composing epic songs has been supposed to have gradually
died out, almost ceasing with the reign of Peter the Great, wholly
ceasing with the war of 1812. But very recently an interesting
experiment has been begun, based on the discovery of several new songs
about the Emperor Alexander II., which are sung by the peasants over a
wide range of country. All these songs are being written down with the
greatest accuracy as to the peculiarities of pronunciation and
accentuation. If, in the future, variants make their appearance,
containing an increasing infusion of the artistic and poetical elements,
considerable light will be thrown upon the problem of the rise and
growth of the ancient epic songs, and on the question of poetical
inspiration among the peasants of the present epoch. One of these
ballads, written down in the Province of the Don, from the lips of a
blind beggar, says that Alexander II., "burned with love, wished to give
freedom to all, kept all under his wing, and freed them from punishment.
He reformed all the laws, heard the groans of the needy, and himself
hastened to their aid." "So the wicked killed him," says the ballad, and
proceeds to describe the occurrence, including the way in which "the
black flag" was lowered on the palace, and "they sent a telegram about
the eclipse of our sun." In the far northern government of Kostromá, on
the Volga, two more ballads on the same subject have been taken down on
the typewriter, so that the bard could readily correct them. The first,
entitled "A Lay of Mourning for the Death of the Tzar Liberator,"
narrates how "a dreadful cloud of black, bloodthirsty ravens assembled,
and invited to them the underground, subterranean rats, not to a
feast-ball, not to a christening, but to undermine the roots of the
olive-branch." Naturally this style demands that the emperor be
designated as "the bright falcon, light winged, swift eyed." It
describes the plot, and how the bombs were to be wrapped up in white
cloths, and the conspirators were "to go for a stroll, as with
watermelons." When the bombs burst, "the panes in the neighboring houses
are shattered," and "the dark blue feathers" of the "bright falcon" are
set on fire. "As there were no Kostromá peasants on hand to aid the
emperor--no Komisároffs or Susánins," adds the ballad, with local pride
(alluding to the legend of Iván Susánin saving the first Románoff Tzar
from the Poles in 1612, which forms the subject of the famous opera by
Glínka, "Life for the Tzar"), "he laid himself down in the bosom of his
mother (earth)." The second ballad is "The Monument-Not Made-with-Hands
to the Tzar Liberator"--the compound adjective here referring to that in
the title of a favorite _ikóna_, or Holy Picture, which corresponds to
the one known in western Europe as the imprint of the Saviour's face on
St. Veronica's kerchief. There are four stanzas, of six lines each, of
which the third runs as follows:
He is our Liberator and our father!
And we will erect a monument of hearts
Whose cross, by its gleaming 'mid the clouds,
Shall transmit the memory to young children and the babes in arms,
And this shall be unto ages of ages
So long as the world and man shall exist!
In southwestern Russia, where the ancient epic songs of the Elder Heroes
and the Kíeff Cycle originated, the memory of them has died out, owing
to the devastation of southern Russia by the Tatárs in the thirteenth
and fourteenth centuries, and the decay of its civilization under
Lithuanian sway in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. In the
sixteenth century the population of southern Russia reorganized itself
in the forms of kazák communes, and fabricated for itself a fresh cycle
of epic legends, which replaced those of Kíeff; and there the _kobzárs_
(professional minstrels who accompany their songs on the _kábza_, a
mandolin-like, twelve-stringed instrument) celebrate the deeds of a new
race of kazák heroes. But in the lonely wildernesses of the northeast,
whither the Tatár invasion drove the descendants of those who composed
and sang the great epic songs, no more recent upheavals have brought
forward heroes to replace the historic paladins, who there hold
undisputed sway to the present time.
Of the songs still sung by the people, the following favorite (in the
version from the Olónetz government) may serve as a sample. It is not
rhymed in the original.
Akh! Little guelder-rose, with pinkish azure bloom,
And merry little company, where my dear one doth drink;
My darling will not drink, until for me he sends.
When I, a maiden, very young did dally,
Tending the ducks, the geese, the swans,
When I, a young maid, very young, along the stream-bank strolled,
I trampled down all sickly leaves and grass,
I plucked the tiny azure flowerets,
At the swift little rivulet I gazed;
Small was the hamlet there, four cots in all,
In every cot four windows small.
In every little window, a dear young crony sits.
Eh, cronies dear, you darlings, friends of mine,
Be ye my cronies, one another love, love me,
When into the garden green ye go, then take me, too;
When each a wreath ye twine, twine one for me;
When in the Danube's stream ye fling them, drop mine, too;
The garlands all upon the surface float, mine only hath sunk down.
All your dear lover-friends have homeward come, mine only cometh not.
QUESTIONS FOR REVIEW
1. How was Christianity introduced into Russia?
2. In what two important centers was it finally established?
3. How was the Greek Church able to supply these converts with
a Slavonian translation of the Bible?
4. Who were Kyríll and Methódy? Describe their work.
5. Why was "Ancient Bulgarian" not the original language of the
Bulgarians?
6. In what language was Russian literature written up to the
time of Peter the Great?
7. Where, according to tradition, did the early Slavonians
settle in Europe?
8. How are the forces of nature represented in the ancient
marriage songs?
9. What custom is illustrated in "The Sowing of the Millet"?
10. What connection is there between the funeral wails of
modern and of ancient Russia?
11. What was the festival of Kolyáda?
12. What Christian character has been given to the ancient
"Glory Song"?
13. Why is pork commonly used at the Russian New-Year?
14. What different dates have been observed for the opening of
the New-Year?
15. What remarkable fact is true of the preservation of the
Russian epic songs?
16. How were the religious ballads brought before the people?
17. Describe some of the characteristics of these ballads.
18. Into what three groups do the epic songs naturally fall?
19. What is the Lay of Sadkó?
20. What are the favorite subjects of the songs of the
"Imperial Cycle"?
21. What interesting discovery of modern epic songs has
recently been made?
22. Why have the songs of the Kíeff Cycle died out in their own
country?
BIBLIOGRAPHY
_The Epic Songs of Russia._ Isabel F. Hapgood.
_Myths and Folk-Tales of Russians, Western Slavs, and Magyars._
Jeremiah Curtin.
_Cossack Fairy-Tales._ R. Nisbet Bain.
_Sixty Folk-Tales from Exclusively Slavonic Sources._ A. H.
Wratislaw.
_Russian Fairy-Tales._ R. Nisbet Bain.
_Fairy-Tales of the Slav Peasants and Herdsmen._ From the
French of Alexander Chodsko.
_Songs of the Russian People and Russian Folk-Tales._ W. R. S.
Ralston.
_Slavonic Fairy-Tales._ M. Gastner.
_Slavonic Literature and its Relations to the Folk-Lore of
Europe._ M. Gastner.
_Russian Folk-Songs as Sung by the People._ Mme. Eugenie
Lineff.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] A Tatár word, signifying "tower"; used to mean the part of the house
where the women were secluded, in Oriental fashion.
[2] Lord, in the original, is Gosudár, the word which, with a capital,
is applied especially to the emperor.
[3] The dramatist Ostróvsky has made effective use of this game, and the
more prophetic couplets of the song, in his famous play: "Poverty is not
a Vice." Other national customs and songs are used in his play.