SKETCH OF PUSHKIN'S LIFE AND WORKS, BY THOMAS B. SHAW, B.A. OF
CAMBRIDGE, ADJUNCT PROFESSOR OF ENGLISH LITERATURE IN THE IMPERIAL
ALEXANDER LYCEUM, TRANSLATOR OF "THE HERETIC," &C. &C.
Among the many striking analogies which exist between the physical and
intellectual creations, and exhibit the uniform method adopted by
Supreme Wisdom in the production of what is most immortal and most
precious in the world of thought, as well as of what is most useful and
beautiful in the world of matter, there is one which cannot fail to
arise before the most actual and commonplace imagination. This is, the
great apparent care exhibited by nature in the preparation of the
_nidus_--or matrix, if we may so style it--in which the genius of the
great man is to be perfected and elaborated. Nature creates nothing in
sport; and as much foresight--possibly even more--is displayed in the
often complicated and intricate machinery of concurrent causes which
prepare the development of great literary genius, as in the elaborate
in-foldings which protect from injury the germ of the future oak, or the
deep-laid and mysterious bed, and the unimaginable ages of growth and
hardening, necessary to the water of the diamond, or to the purity of
the gold.
Pushkin is undoubtedly one of that small number of names, which have
become incorporated and identified with the literature of their country;
at once the type and the expression of that country's nationality--one
of that small but illustrious bard, whose writings have become part of
the very household language of their native land--whose lightest words
may be incessantly heard from the lips of all classes; and whose
expressions may be said, like those of Shakspeare, of Moliere, and of
Cervantes, to have become the natural forms embodying the ideas which
they have expressed, and in expressing, consecrated. In a word, Pushkin
is undeniably and essentially the great national poet of Russia.
In tracing, therefore, this author's double existence, and in essaying
to give some account of his external as well as his interior life--in
sketching the poet and the man--we cannot fail to remark a striking
exemplification of the principle to which we have alluded; and as we
accompany, in respectful admiration, his short but brilliant career, we
shall have incessant occasion to remember the laws which regulated its
march--laws ever-acting and eternal, and no less apparent to the eye of
enlightened criticism, than are the mighty physical influences which
guide the planets in their course, to the abstract reason of the
astronomer.
Alexander Pushkin was born (as if destiny had intended, in assigning
his birth-place--the ancient capital of Russia, and still the
dwelling-place of all that is most intense in Russian nationality--to
predict all the stuff and groundwork of his character) at Moscow, on the
26th of May 1799. His family, by the paternal side, was one of the most
ancient and distinguished in the empire, and was descended from Ratcha,
a German--probably a Teutonic knight--who settled in Muscovy in the
thirteenth century, and took service under Alexander Nevskii,
(1252-1262,) and who is the parent root from which spring many of the
most illustrious houses in Russia--those of Pushkin, of Buturlin, of
Kamenskii, and of Meteloff. Nor was the paternal line of Pushkin's house
undistinguished for other triumphs than those recorded in the annals of
war; his grandfather, Vassilii Lvovitch Pushkin, was a poet of
considerable reputation, and was honoured, no less than Alexander's
father, with the intimacy of the most illustrious literary men of his
age--of Dmitrieff, Karamzin, and Jukovskii.
But perhaps the most remarkable circumstance connected with Pushkin's
origin--a circumstance of peculiar significance to those who, like
ourselves, are believers in the influence, on human character, of
_race_, or _blood_, is the fact of his having been the grandson, by the
mother's side, of an African. The cold blood of the north, transmitted
to his veins from the rude warrior of Germany, was thus mingled with
that liquid lightning which circles through the fervid bosom of the
children of the desert; and this crossing of the race (to use the
language of the course) produced an undeniable modification in our
poet's character. His maternal grandfather was a negro, brought to
Russia when a child by Peter the Great, and whose subsequent career was
one of the most romantic that can be imagined. The wonderful Tsar gave
his sable protege, whose name was Annibal, a good education, and
admitted him into the marine service of the empire--a service in which
he reached (in the reign of Catharine) the rank of admiral. He took part
in the attack upon Navarin under Orloff, and died after a long and
distinguished career of service, having founded, in his new country, the
family of Annibaloff, of which Pushkin was the most distinguished
ornament, and of whose African origin the poet, both in personal
appearance and in mental physiognomy, bore the most unequivocal marks.
To the memory of this singular progenitor, Pushkin has consecrated more
than one of his smaller works, and has frequently alluded to the African
blood which he inherited from the admiral.
In 1811, Pushkin obtained (through the interest of Turgenieff, to whom
Russia is thus, in some sort, indebted for her great poet) admission
into the Imperial Lyceum of Tsarskoe Selo, where he was to receive the
education, and to form the friendships, which so strongly coloured, not
only the literary productions of his whole career, but undoubtedly
modified, to a considerable extent, the personal character of the poet.
This institution, then recently established by the Emperor Alexander,
and always honoured by the peculiar favour and protection of its
illustrious founder, was modelled on the plan of those _lycees_ which
France owed to the genius of Napoleon; and was intended to confer upon
its pupils the advantage of a complete encyclopedic education, and, not
only embracing the preparatory or school course, but also the academic
_curriculum_ of a university, was calculated to dismiss the students, at
the end of their course of training, immediately into active life. The
Lyceum must be undoubtedly considered as having nursed in its bosom a
greater number of distinguished men than any other educational
institution in the country; and our readers may judge of the peculiar
privileges enjoyed by this establishment, (the primary object of whose
foundation was, that of furnishing to the higher civil departments in
the government, and to the ministry of foreign affairs in particular, a
supply of able and accomplished _employes_,) from the fact of its having
been located by the emperor in a wing of the palace of Tsarskoe
Selo--the favourite summer residence of the Tsars of Russia since the
time of Catharine II. It is to the last-named sovereign, as is well
known to travellers, that this celebrated spot is indebted for its
splendid palace and magnificent gardens, forming, perhaps, the most
striking object which gratifies the stranger's curiosity in the environs
of St Petersburg.
The students of the Lyceum are almost always youths of the most
distinguished families among the Russian nobility, and are themselves
selected from among the most promising in point of intellect. The system
of education pursued within its walls is of the most complete nature,
partaking, as may be concluded from what we have said, of both a
scientific and literary character; and a single glance at a list of the
first course (of which Pushkin was a member) will suffice to show, that
it counted, among its numbers, many names destined to high distinction.
Among the comrades and intimate friends of Pushkin at the Lyceum, must
be mentioned the elegant poet, the Baron Delvig, whose early death was
so irreparable a loss to Russian literature, and must be considered as
the severest personal bereavement suffered by Pushkin--"his brother," as
he affectionately calls him, in the muse as in their fate. Nor must we
forget Admiral Matiushkin, a distinguished seaman now living, and
commanding the Russian squadron in the Black Sea. We could specify a
number of other names, all of more or less note in their own country,
though the reputation of many of them has not succeeded, for various
reasons, in passing the frontiers.
From the system of study, no less than from the peculiar social
character, if we may so express it, which has always prevailed in the
Lyceum of Tsarskoe Selo, we must deduce the cause of the peculiar
intensity and durability of the friendships contracted within its
bosom--a circumstance which still continues to distinguish it to a
higher degree than can be predicated of any other institution with which
we are acquainted; and we allude to this more pointedly from the
conviction, that it would be absolutely impossible to form a true idea
of Pushkin--not only as man, but even as a poet--were we to leave out of
our portrait the immense influence exerted on the whole of his career,
both in the world of reality and in the regions of art, by the close and
intimate friendships he formed in the Lyceum, particularly that with
Delvig. Few portions of poetical biography contain a purer or more
touching interest than the chapter describing the school or college
friendships of illustrious men; and the innumerable allusions to Lyceum
comrades and Lyceum happiness, scattered so profusely over the pages of
Pushkin, have an indescribable charm to the imagination, not less
delightful than the recital of Byron's almost feminine affection for
"little Harness," or the oft-recalled image of the Noble Childe's boyish
meditation in the elm-shadowed churchyard of Harrow.
During the six years which Pushkin passed at the Lyceum, (from 1811 to
1817,) the intellect and the affections of the young poet were rapidly
and steadily developing themselves. He could not, it is true, be
considered as a diligent scholar, by those who looked at the progress
made by him in the regular and ostensible occupations of the
institution; but it is undeniable, that the activity of his powerful,
accurate, and penetrating mind found solid and unremitting occupation in
a wide circle of general reading. His own account of the acquirements he
had made at this period, and of the various branches of study which he
had cultivated with more or less assiduity, proves that, however
desultory may have been the nature of his reading, and however unformed
or incoherent were his literary projects, he possessed, in ample
measure, even at this period, the great elements of future fame; viz.
the habit of vigorous industry, and the power of sustained abstraction
and contemplation.
His personal appearance, at this time, was a plain index of his
character, intellectual as well as moral. The closely-curled and wiry
hair, the mobile and irregular features, the darkness of the complexion,
all betrayed his African descent; and served as an appropriate outside
to a character which was early formed in all its individuality, and
which remained unchanged in its principal features during the whole of
the poet's too short existence. Long will the youthful traditions of the
Lyceum recall the outlines of Pushkin's character; long will the
unbiassed judgment of boyhood do justice to the manliness, the honour,
the straightforwardness of the great poet's nature, and hand down, from
one young generation to another, numberless traits exemplifying the
passionate warmth of his heart, the gaiety of his temper, and the
vastness of his memory. In all cases where circumstances come fairly
under their observation, the young are the best judges of internal
character, as well as the most unerring physiognomists of the outward
lineaments of the face. Pushkin was extremely popular among his
comrades--the generosity of his character had peculiar charms for the
unsophisticated minds of the young; and the vigour of a body never
enfeebled in infancy by luxurious indulgence, enabled him to obtain, by
sharing in their sports, no less consideration among them than he
derived from the play of his penetrating and sarcastic humour. His
poetical existence was now already begun: to the Lyceum period of
Pushkin's life we must ascribe not only a considerable number of short
pieces of verse--those first flutterings of the bird before it has
strength to leave the nest--but even the conception of many poetical
projects which time and study were hereafter to mature into
masterpieces. The short and fugitive essays in poetry to which we have
just alluded, appeared in a literary journal at various periods, and
under anonymous signatures--a circumstance to be deplored, as it has
deprived us of the means of examining how far these slight attempts,
composed in the twelfth, thirteenth, and fourteenth years of his age,
gave promise of future excellence. In themselves, they were probably so
crude and _unlicked_ as to justify the poet in the indifference which
prevented him from claiming these early compositions, and allowing them
to be incorporated in the collections of his writings. During his
residence at the Lyceum, however, he undoubtedly meditated the plan of
his charming romantic poem, "Ruslan and Liudmila," and probably even
composed the opening of the work. To this period, too, are to be
assigned some stanzas of great merit, entitled "Recollections of
Tsarskoe Selo," and an "Epistle to Licinius"--both works exhibiting
considerable skill and mastery in versification, but by far too much
tinged (as might indeed be expected) with the light reflected from the
youthful poet's reading to deserve a place among his original
productions. For the amusement of his comrades, also, he wrote a number
of ludicrous and humorous pieces, which derived their chief merit from
the circumstances which suggested them; and were calculated rather to
excite a moment's laughter in the merry circle of schoolfellows, than to
be cited as specimens of the author's comic powers, particularly when we
reflect, that the broadly humorous was never Pushkin's favourite or even
successful manner of writing: in the delicate, subdued, Cervantes tone
of humour, however, he was destined to become perhaps the most
distinguished writer of his country--but let us not anticipate. One
production, connected with the Lyceum, is, however, too important (not
perhaps in itself, so much as in the circumstances accompanying it) to
be passed over in a biography of our poet. This is a didactic poem
entitled "Infidelity," which Pushkin composed and read at the public
examination at the Lyceum, at the solemn _Act_, (a ceremony resembling
that which bears the same name at Oxford and Cambridge, and which takes
place at the conferring of the academical degree.) It was on this
occasion that Pushkin was publicly saluted _Poet_, in the presence of
the Emperor, by the aged Derjavin--the greatest Russian poet then
living, and whose glory was so soon to be eclipsed by the young student
whom he prophetically applauded. It is impossible not to be affected by
the sight of the sunset of that genius whose brightest splendour is
worthily reflected in the sublime ode, "God"--one of the noblest lyrics
in the Russian, or, indeed, in any language--thus heralding, as it were,
the dawning of a more brilliant and enduring daybreak; even as in the
northern summer the vapoury evening glow melts imperceptibly into the
dawn, and leaves no night between.
This event, so calculated to impress the vivid and ardent imagination of
the young poet, has been most exquisitely described by himself in the
literary journal, "Sovremennik," (The Contemporary,) vol. viii. p. 241.
On quitting the Lyceum, in October 1817, Pushkin entered the civil
service, and was immediately attached to the Ministry of Foreign
Affairs. Young, noble, cultivated, possessed in the highest degree of
those talents which are certain to enchant society, he plunged, as might
naturally have been expected, with all the ardour of his African blood,
into the pleasures and amusements of the capital. His success in
society, and the eagerness with which he was welcomed every where, might
easily have been foreseen, particularly when we keep in mind the
universal hospitality which distinguishes the higher classes of Russian
society, and the comparative rarity in this country of literary
celebrity, which tends to render merit of that nature certain of a
respectful, if not exaggerated appreciation. "The three years," to quote
the words of one--himself a personal friend of the poet's--who has
succeeded in seizing with admirable fidelity the principal features of
Pushkin's intellectual physiognomy, "the three years which he passed in
St Petersburg, after quitting the Lyceum, were devoted to the amusements
of the fashionable world, and to the irresistible enchantments of
society. From the splendid drawing-room of the great noble down to the
most unceremonious supper-table of a party of young officers, every
where Pushkin was received with exultation, and every where did he
become the idol of the young, who gratified both his vanity and their
own by the glory which accompanied his every step."
The eagerness with which the young poet plunged into the glittering
stream of fashionable life, must not be attributed only to the natural
thirst for pleasure in a young man just released from the bonds of a
school life, and to the first vivid sense of liberty excited in the mind
of a youth, who had been passing six years of his life in a spot which,
however beautiful, was still but a beautiful seclusion. We must keep in
mind the different constitution of society in Russia, and particularly
the fact, that the absence (at least for social purposes) of a middle
class in that country, renders the upper ranks the only section of the
social system in which intellectual pleasure can be sought, or
intellectual supremacy appreciated. Pushkin himself always attached no
inconsiderable importance to his success in the _beau monde_; and it is
incontestably to his friction (if we may so style it) with that _beau
monde_ that he owed some of the more attractive, if not the more solid,
qualities of his genius, and much of the refinement and good taste which
distinguish his style. Like all men of the higher order of
intellect--like Scott, like Cervantes, and Michael Angelo--Pushkin was
endowed by nature with a vigorous and mighty organization, bodily as
well as mental: and though he may appear to have been losing much
valuable time in the elegant frivolities of the drawing-room, he was not
less industrious at this period of his career in amassing a store of
observation derived from a practical study of human character, than
successful in filling up--in the short intervals of ball and
festival--the poetical outlines which he had roughly sketched at the
Lyceum. He worked in the morning at his poem, and passed the greater
part of his nights in society; very short intervals of repose sufficing
to repair, in so vigorously constituted a being, the loss of energetic
vitality caused by the quick succession of intense intellectual labour,
and equally intense social enjoyment. It was at this period that the
enchanting creations of Wieland and Ariosto were first presented to his
young and glowing imagination. These poets are emphatically and
essentially the poets of the young: the "_white soul_" of youth, as yet
untinged with the colouring reflected from its own peculiar fantasy, or
the results of reading, mirrors faithfully the fairy splendour of their
magic style, even as the Alpine snow the rosy light of dawn: and
Pushkin, with the natural desire of imitating what he so well knew how
to admire, conceived the happy thought of transporting Armida and Oberon
to a scenery admirably adapted for their reproduction--to the world of
ancient Russia. The popular superstitions of the Sclavonic races, though
naturally possessing a tone and local colouring of their own, and
modified by the nature which they reflect, are neither less graceful nor
less fertile in poetry than the delicate mythology so exquisitely
embodied by the great German or the yet greater Italian: and the poem of
"Ruslan and Liudmila"--the result of Pushkin's bold and happy
experiment--may be said to have been the very first embodiment of
Russian fancy, at least the first such embodiment exhibited under a form
sufficiently European to enable readers who were not Russians to
appreciate and admire. The cantos which compose this charming work were
read by Pushkin, as fast as they were completed, at the house of his
friend and brother poet, Jukovskii, where were assembled the most
distinguished men of Russian literary society. In 1820 the poem of
"Ruslan and Liudmila" was completed, and its appearance must be
considered as giving the finishing blow to the worn-out classicism which
characterizes all the poetical language of the eighteenth century. This
revolution was begun by Jukovskii himself, to whom Russian literature
owes so much; and he hailed with delight the new and beautiful
production of the young poet--the "conquering scholar," as Jukovskii
affectionately calls Pushkin--which established for ever the new order
of things originating in the good taste of the "conquered master," as he
designates himself.
The ever timid spirit of criticism was, as usual, exemplified in the
judgments passed by the literary journals upon this elegant innovation.
Some were alarmed at the novelty of the language, others shocked at the
irregularity of the versification, and others again at the occasional
comic passages introduced into the poem: but all forgot, or all dared
not confess, that this was the first Russian poetry which had ever been
greedily and universally _read_; and that, until the appearance of
"Ruslan and Liudmila," poetry and tiresomeness had been, in Russia,
convertible terms.
Immediately on the publication of "Ruslan and Liudmila," the poet,
becoming in all probability somewhat weary of a life of incessant and
labouring pleasure, left the capital and retired to Kishenev; he took
service in the chancery (or office) of Lieutenant-General Inzoff,
substitute in the province of Bessarabia. From this epoch begins the
wandering and unsettled period of the poet's life, which occupies a
space of five years, and concludes with his return to his father's
village of Mikhailovskoe, in the government of Pskoff. The effect upon
the character and genius of Pushkin, of this pilgrim-like existence,
must be considered as in the highest degree favourable: he stored up, in
these wanderings, we may be sure, effects of scenery and traits of human
nature--in fact the rough materials of future poetry. Fortunately for
him, the theatre of his travels was vast enough to enable him to lay in
an ample stock not only of recollections of the external beauties in the
physical world, but also a rich supply of the various characteristics of
national manners. He traversed the whole south of Russia--a district
admirably calculated to strike and to impress the warm and vivid
imagination of our poet; and "he took genial tribute from the wandering
tribes of Bessarabia, and from the merchant inhabitants of Odessa, and
from the classic ruins of the Tauride, and from the dark-blue waves of
the Euxine, and from the wild peaks of the Caucasus."
It was at this epoch of Pushkin's career that the mighty star of Byron
first rose, like some glittering, but irregular comet, above the
literary horizon of Europe. The genius of the Russian poet had far too
many points of resemblance, in many of its most characteristic
peculiarities, with the Muse of the Noble Childe, for us to be surprised
at the circumstance that the new and brilliant productions of Byron
should have a powerful influence on so congenial a mind as was that of
Pushkin. When we allow, therefore, the existence of this influence, nay
more, when we endeavour to appreciate and measure the extent of that
influence; when we essay to express the degree of _aberration_ (to use
the language of the astronomer) produced in the orbit of the great
poetic planet of the North by the approach in the literary hemisphere of
the yet greater luminary of England--we give the strongest possible
denial to a fallacious opinion, useless to the glory of one great man
and injurious to the just fame of the other, viz. that Pushkin can be
called in any sense an _imitator_ of Lord Byron. In many respects, it is
true, there was a strange and surprising analogy between the personal
character, the peculiar tone of thought, nay, even the nature of the
subjects treated by the two poets: and to those who content themselves
with a superficial examination of the question--those "who have not
attayned," as Sir Thomas Browne quaintly phrases it, "to the
deuteroscophie or second sight of thinges"--these analogies may appear
conclusive; but we trust to be able to show, that between these two
great men there exists a difference wide and marked enough to satisfy
the most critical stickler for originality.
The next production of Pushkin's pen was a brilliant "Epilogue" to the
poem of "Ruslan and Liudmila"--in which he replies to the strictures
which had appeared in the various literary journals. This piece was
immediately followed (in 1822) by his "Prisoner of the Caucasus," a
romantic poem, which breathes the very freshness of the mountain breeze,
and must be considered as the perfect embodiment, in verse, of the
sublime region from whence it takes its title. So deep was the
impression produced by this splendid and passionate poem, that it was
reprinted four times before it was incorporated into the edition of the
author's collected works;--the impressions having been exhausted in
1822, 24, 28, and 35. The reader, in order to appreciate the avidity
with which the poem was read, must bear in mind the small amount of
literary activity in Russia, as compared with England, with Germany, or
with France. We shall not attempt to give, in this place, any analysis
of this, or the other works of Pushkin, as it is our conviction that
short and meagre fragments--all that our space would admit of--are very
unsatisfactory and insufficient grounds on which to judge a work of
fiction, and particularly a work of poetry in a language absolutely
unknown to almost all our readers, many of the chief peculiarities
depending too upon the nationality of which that language is the
expression and vehicle. It is, however, our intention, should the
specimens of lyric poetry presented in the translations accompanying
this notice be favourably received in England, to extend the sphere of
our humble labours, and to endeavour to Daguerreotype, by faithful
versions, portions of the longer poems (and in particular the narrative
pieces) of the great writer whose portrait we are attempting to trace.
We shall, we trust, by so doing succeed in giving our countrymen a more
just idea of the merit and peculiar manner of our poet, than we could
hope to do by exhibiting to the reader the bare anatomy--the mere dry
bones of his works, to which would be wanting the lively play of
versification, the life-blood of fancy, and the ever-varying graces of
expression.
Between the first of these two remarkable poems ("Ruslan and Liudmila")
and the second--"The Prisoner of the Caucasus," the mind of Pushkin had
undergone a most remarkable transformation; "there is hardly any thing,"
to use the words of the elegant critic whom we have already quoted,
"common to the two poems, except the beauty of the verses." There is not
a greater difference between an early and a late picture of Raphael; and
what is interesting and curious to remark, is the circumstance, that
poet and painter (in their gradual advance towards consummate excellence
in their respective arts) seemed to have passed through the same stages
of development. In the earlier work all is studied, elaborated,
carefully and scientifically _composed_; worked out from the quarry of
memory, chiselled by the imagination, and polished by a studious and
somewhat pedantic taste: while the imagery, the passion, and the
characters of the later production are modelled immediately from Nature
herself. The reader perceives that the young artist has now reached the
first phase of his development, and has thrown aside the rule and
compass of precedents and books, and feels himself sufficiently strong
of hand and steady of eye to look face to face upon the unveiled goddess
herself, and with reverent skill to copy her sublime lineaments. We
cannot better express our meaning, than by allowing Pushkin himself to
give his own opinion of this poem. In the latter part of his life, he
writes as follows--"At Lars I found a dirtied and dog's-eared copy of
'The Prisoner of the Caucasus,' and I confess that I read it through
with much gratification. All this is weak, boyish, incomplete; but
there is much happily guessed at and faithfully expressed."
The indomitable activity which we have mentioned as forming a marked
feature in Pushkin's intellect, though exhibited most strikingly
throughout his whole career, was never more forcibly displayed than at
the present period. Although the first fervour of his passions was now
in sole degree moderated by indulgence, and by that satiety which is the
inevitable attendant on such indulgence, it is not to be imagined that
the poet, in retiring from the capital, intended by this to seclude
himself from the gayer pleasures of society. We know, too, how absorbing
of time is the wandering life which he led--and many have learned from
experience, how difficult it is for a traveller to find leisure for
intellectual pursuits. Some idea, therefore, of Pushkin's activity may
be formed from a knowledge of the circumstance, that during this roving
period he had not only been storing his memory with images of the
beauties of nature, taking tribute of grandeur and loveliness from every
scene through which he wandered, but found time to pursue what would
appear, even for an otherwise unoccupied student, a very steady and
incessant course of labour. During the whole of his life, he made it his
practice to read almost every remarkable work which appeared in the
various languages he had acquired. That this was no easy task, and that
the quantity of intellectual food which he unceasingly consumed, must
have required a powerful and rapid digestion to assimilate it, we may
conclude from his own statement of his occupations and acquirements. On
quitting the Lyceum, he was acquainted with the English, Latin, German,
and French languages; to this list he managed to add, during his
wanderings, a complete knowledge of the Italian, and a competent
proficiency in Spanish.
But let us hear his own account of these studies, extracted from a poem
written in Bessarabia--
"In solitude my soul, my wayward inspiration
I've school'd to quiet toil, to fervent meditation.
I'm master of my days; order is reason's friend;
On graver thoughts I've learn'd my spirit's powers to bend;
I seek to compensate, in freedom's calm embraces,
For the warm years of youth, its joys and vanish'd graces;
And to keep equal step with an enlighten'd age."
We cannot refrain from quoting in this place a passage from another
poem, written at this period; our readers will be pleased, we think,
with so graceful a tribute to the glory of the great exile-bard of Rome,
whose fate and character had so much in common with those of Pushkin
himself--
"Sweet Ovid! Love's own bard! I dwell by that still shore
Whither thine exiled gods thou broughtest--where of yore
Thou pour'dst thy plaints in life, and left thine ashes dying;
With deathless, fruitless tears these places glorifying.
* * * * * *
Here, with a northern lyre the wilderness awaking,
I wander'd in those days, when liberty was breaking--
Roused by the gallant Greek--her sleep, by Danube's tide;
And not one friend would stand, a brother, by my side;
And the far hills alone, and woods in silence dreaming,
And the calm muses then would list with kindly seeming."
The influence exerted upon our poet's mind and productions by the
Byronian spirit, to which we alluded a few pages back, may be traced, in
very perceptible degree, in the next poem which he gave to the public,
"The Fountain of Bakhtchisarai," a work in which is reflected, as
vividly as it is in the storied waters of the fount from which it takes
its name, all the wealth, the profuse and abounding loveliness, of the
luxurious clime of the Tauric Chersonese. The scene of the poem is one
of the most romantic spots in that divine land; and the ruined palace
and "gardens of delight" which once made the joy and pride of the mighty
khans--the rulers of the Golden Horde--is perhaps not inferior, as a
source of wild legend and picturesque fairy lore--certainly not
inferior in the eyes of a Russian reader--to the painted halls and
fretted colonnades of the Alhambra. The success instantly obtained and
permanently enjoyed by this exquisite poem must be attributed to
something more than the profusion and beauty of the descriptive
passages, so thickly and artfully interwoven with the action of the
tale--a species of wealth and profusion, it may be remarked, which suits
well with the oriental character of the story, and with the abounding
loveliness of the scenery amid which that action is supposed to take
place. In this poem, too, we may remark the first decided essay made by
the poet towards delineating and contrasting, in an artistic manner, the
characters of human personages. The dramatic opposition between the two
principal characters of the tale, Maria and Zarema, is well conceived
and most skilfully executed. This poem first appeared in 1824, and was
reprinted in 1827, 1830, 1835. The powers of dramatic delineation which
may be seen, as it were, in embryo in this work, were to be still
further developed in Pushkin's next production, which was begun in the
same year, (1824,) and appeared in 1827. Those powers, too, were
destined to be exhibited in their full splendour in a historical
tragedy--perhaps the finest which the Russian literature can be said to
possess. The work to which we have alluded as being the second trial of
his wings in the arduous regions of dramatic creation, was the short but
exquisite tale entitled "The Gipsies." This tale, which is esteemed by
the Russians a masterpiece of grace and simplicity, is a poem in
dialogue; the persons being only four in number, and the action a wild
yet simple catastrophe of love, jealousy, and revenge. The _dramatis
personae_ are gipsies; and it is difficult to select what is most
admirable in this exquisite little work--the completeness and
distinctness of the descriptions of external nature--the artful
introduction of various allusions, (particularly in one most charming
passage, indicating Ovid's exile in the beautiful country which is the
scene of the drama,) or the intense interest which the poet has known
how to infuse into what would appear at first sight a subject simple
even to meagreness. Poets of many nations have endeavoured, with various
qualifications, and with no less various degrees of success, to
represent the picturesque and striking features of the nomad life and
wild superstitions of the gipsy race: none however, it may be safely
asserted, have ever produced a picture more true or more poetical than
is to be found in the production of Pushkin. He had ample opportunities
of studying their peculiar manners in the green oceans of the southern
steppes. It is at this period that Pushkin began the composition of his
poem entitled "Evgenii Oniegin," a production which has become, it may
be said, part of the ordinary language of the poet's countrymen. The
first canto appeared in 1825, 1829. This work, in its outline, its plan,
in the general tone of thought pervading it, and in certain other
_external_ circumstances, bears a kind of fallacious resemblance to the
inimitable production of Lord Byron; a circumstance which leads
superficial readers into the error (unjust in the highest degree to
Pushkin's originality) of considering it as an imitation of the Don. It
is a species of satire upon society, (and Russian fashionable society in
particular,) embodied in an easy wandering verse something like that of
Byron; and so far, perhaps, the comparison between the two poems holds
good. Pushkin's _plot_ has the advantage of being (though sufficiently
slight in construction, it must be confessed) considerably more compact
and interesting than the irregular narration which serves Byron to
string together the bitter beads of his satirical rosary; but, at the
same time, the aim and scope of the English satirist is infinitely more
vast and comprehensive. The Russian has also none of the terrible and
deeply-thrilling pictures of passion and of war which so strangely and
powerfully contrast with the bitter sneer and gay irony forming the
basis of the Don; but, on the other hand, the interest of the reader
(scattered, in Byron's work, upon the various, unconnected, and somewhat
monotonous outlines of female characters in Julia, Haidee, Gulbeyas,
&c.,) is in "Evgenii Oniegin" most powerfully concentrated upon the
heroine, Tatiana--one of the most exquisite tributes that poetry has
ever paid to the nobility of woman. To show the difficulty of judging of
this work, we need only mention, that while many compare it to "Don
Juan," others consider is as rather resembling "Childe Harold;" while
the author himself professed that it was rather to be placed in the
category of "Beppo."
On leaving Odessa, (in 1824,) Pushkin, who appears to have loved the sea
with all the fervour of Shelley himself, bade farewell to the waves with
which he had communed so earnestly, and whose deep voices his verse so
nobly echoed, in some grand stanzas "To the Sea," of which a translation
will be given in a subsequent part.
It is to this epoch that we must ascribe the first outline of the
historical tragedy to which we have alluded; but which did not appear
till a much later period. We shall recur to this work when we reach the
date of its completion.
As the composition of "Evgenii Oniegin" extended over a considerable
space of time, our readers may not be displeased at our reverting
occasionally to the progress of this work and to the character of its
merits. This production must be considered as the fullest and most
complete embodiment that exists in Russian literature, of the
nationality of the country. It will be found to be the expression of
those apparently discordant elements the union of which composes that
hard riddle--the Russian character. A passage of Pushkin's dedication
will not incorrectly exhibit the variety of its tone:--
"Accept this heap of motley traits,
Half gay, half sad, half false, half real,
Half every-day, yet half ideal,
The careless fruit of idle days,
Of sleepless nights; slight inspirations
Of unripe years, of wasted art--
The reason's frigid observations,
And sad conclusions of the heart."
During the most tranquil and laborious portion of Pushkin's life, which
passed principally at Mikhailovskoe, and which occupies the period from
his leaving Odessa at the end of the year 1824 to 1826, he continued to
labour upon his tragedy, and to produce the second and third cantos of
"Evgenii Oniegin," in addition to which, our indefatigable poet found
means to collect and publish a number of smaller poems, some of which
will be found among the translations which we are about to offer; and to
aid his friend and brother-poet Delvig in an annual volume of prose and
verse (illustrated after the manner of our Keepsakes, &c.) entitled
"Northern Flowers." This publication was commenced in 1826, and
continued to appear, always enriched with something by Pushkin, till its
existence closed at the early and lamented death of the projector and
editor.
Pushkin's life at this period was characterized by intense industry, and
an uniformity of exertion modified and compensated by variety of
occupation. He has left a minute description of the manner in which his
time was distributed between labour and repose; and even if we did not
possess his letters, it is described with sufficient accuracy in the
fourth canto of "Evgenii Oniegin," to enable us to transcribe it here.
He was in the habit of rising early, and of devoting the morning and
forenoon to those parts of his literary occupation which demanded the
exercise of the intellectual or reasoning powers, the memory, &c. &c.
Before dinner (whatever was the state of the weather) he took somewhat
violent walking exercise; he then dined, (it should be remarked that the
dinner-hour is earlier in Russia than is usual in England,) and having
passed the evening in society either at home or at some neighbouring
country-house, he returned to his poetical labours, which he sometimes
continued far into the night.[1] He has frequently repeated that he
found himself more perfectly disposed to composition in the season of
autumn; and that his poetical vein flowed most generously and
abundantly on a dark and stormy night. To those who are acquainted with
the climate of Russia (particularly of that part of the Empire where
Pushkin now resided) this will not be surprising; and the abundance and
splendour of the descriptions of the autumnal season introduced into his
various works, will show that his mind and imagination had something in
harmony with that which is, in our opinion, the most poetical portion of
the year. Like many persons of a highly nervous organization, the
brilliant sunshine of spring-tide produced in Pushkin's temperament an
impression of melancholy, which he explained by a natural tendency to
consumption.
In autumn 1826, Pushkin re-entered the government service in his
original department, viz., that of the foreign affairs; and in 1827 he
printed, besides the third canto of "Evgenii Oniegin," the "Gypsies," a
new poem of inferior merit entitled the "Robber-Brothers," and a comic
tale, also in verse, which, though slight in construction, is a
masterpiece of graceful and elegant satire. It is entitled "Count
Nulin," and describes the signal discomfiture of certain designs
meditated by the count (a most delightful specimen of a young Russian
coxcomb) against the virtue of his hostess, a fair chatelaine, at whose
country-house the said count passes a night in consequence of a disabled
travelling-carriage.
To this period, too, must be assigned the composition of "Poltava," a
work, the proper title of which would be "Mazepa," but which received
its name in order that the public might not confound it with Byron's
tale, the hero of both being the same historical personage. It is almost
unnecessary to state that there is no resemblance whatever between these
two remarkable works. While the production of Byron is rather an
admirable development of certain incidents, either entirely invented by
the poet, or only slightly suggested by passages of the old Kazak
Hetman's biography, the _Mazepa_ of Pushkin is a most spirited and
faithful version of the real history of the romantic life of the hero;
the actual events adopted by the Russian poet as the groundwork of his
tale, being certainly not inferior in strangeness, novelty, and romantic
incident, to the short fiery tale, dawning rosily in mutual love, and
finishing with the wild gallop on the desert steed, which thrills us so
deeply in the pages of Byron.
In 1829 was given to the world an edition of Pushkin's collected works,
arranged in chronological order; and the author had another opportunity
of visiting the East--those climes whence he had drawn, and was to draw
again, so much of his inspiration. He once more crossed the Caucasus,
and leaving in his rear his beloved Georgia, he followed the movements
of the Russian army in its campaign, and accompanied it as far as
Arzeram, receiving, during this journey, the most flattering attentions
from Marshal Paskevitch, the commander-in-chief of the expedition. We
may judge of the delight with which he seized this opportunity of
indulging his taste for travelling, and of the vast store of
recollections and images which he garnered up during this pilgrimage--so
peculiarly attractive to a poet, as combining the pleasure of travelling
with the splendour and picturesque novelties of a military march--by the
letters in which he has described his impressions during this
interesting period. These letters are models of simplicity, grace, and
interest, and have become classical in the Russian language.
In 1830, Baron Delvig commenced the publication of the _Literary
Gazette_, an undertaking in which Pushkin took as active and zealous an
interest as he had done in the _Northern Flowers_, edited by his friend
and schoolfellow. He not only contributed many beautiful poems to this
periodical, but also several striking prose tales and other papers, in
which, by the elegance and brilliancy of the style, and the acuteness
and originality of the thoughts, the public found no difficulty in
identifying Pushkin, though they appeared anonymously. He now visited
Moscow, in order to superintend the printing of his _Boris Godunoff_,
the tragedy which he had been so long engaged in polishing and
completing, and respecting the success of which he appears to have been
more anxious than usual, as he determined to write himself the preface
to this work. The subject of this tragedy is the well-known episode of
Russian history which placed Boris upon the throne of the Tsar; and
writers have taken various views of the character of the hero of this
scene, Pushkin representing Boris as the assassin of the son of Ivan
IV., while the ancient chroniclers, and the modern historians in
general, as Ustrialoff, Pogodin, Kraevskii, &c. &c., concur in asserting
that that prince was elected by the clergy and the people. Whatever may
be the historical truth of the design, Pushkin has given us in this
tragedy a dramatic picture full of spirit, of passion, of character, and
of life; and some of the personages, particularly those of the pretender
Dimitri, and the heroine Marina, are sketched with a vigorous and
flowing pencil. The _form_ of this play is ostensibly Shakspearian; but
it appears to us to resemble less the works of Shakspeare himself, than
some of the more successful imitations of the great dramatist's
manner--as, for instance, some parts of the Wallenstein. As to the
language and versification, it is in blank verse, and the style is
considered by Russians as admirable for ease and flexibility. At this
time Pushkin's life was about to undergo a great change; he was engaged
to a young lady whom he afterwards married, and retired, in the spring
of this year, to the village of Boldino, in the province of Nijegorod,
in order to make preparations for his new existence as a married man,
and in this spot he remained, in consequence of the cholera breaking out
in Moscow, until the winter. In spite of the engrossing nature of these
occupations, he seems never to have been more industriously employed
than during this autumn. "I must tell you," he writes, "(but between you
and me!) that I have been working at Boldino as I have not done for a
long time. Listen then! I brought with me hither the two last cantos of
'Oniegin,' ready for the press, a tale in octaves, (the _Little House in
the Kolomora_,) number of dramatic scenes--'The Stingy Knight,' 'Mozart
and Salieri,' 'The Feast in the Time of the Plague,' and 'Don Juan.'
Besides this, I have written about thirty small pieces of poetry. I have
not done yet; I have written in prose (this is a great secret) five
tales," (Ivan Bielkin's Stories.) The year 1831 began afflictingly for
Pushkin. On the 14th of January Baron Delvig died. All Pushkin's letters
in which he makes any allusion to this loss, breathe a sentiment of the
most deep and permanent sorrow. The following is extracted from a letter
to a friend, dated the 31st of this month:--"I knew him (Delvig) at the
Lyceum. I watched the first unnoted unfolding of his poetic mind--the
early development of a talent which we then gave not its just value. We
read together Deljavin and Jukovskii; we talked of all _that swelleth
the spirit, that melteth the heart_. His life was rich and full--rich,
not in romantic adventures, but in the most noble feelings, the most
brilliant and the purest intellect, and the fairest hopes."
But the grief caused by this great and irreparable loss--a grief which
threw its dark cold shadow over the whole of Pushkin's subsequent
existence--was not unrelieved by feelings of a brighter tone: the void
caused by friendship was filled up with love. In February of this year
he was married, at Moscow, to the lady to whom (as we have mentioned
above) he had been some time engaged. Mlle. Gontchareff was of an
ancient Russian family, and a person of singular beauty. "I am married,"
(writes the poet to one of his friends, in a letter dated February 24.)
"I have now but one desire in the world, and that is, that nothing in my
present life be changed. This existence is so new to me, that I feel as
if I had been born again. The death of Delvig is the only shadow in my
bright existence." Pushkin was desirous of editing a volume of the
"Northern Flowers," in the following year, for the benefit of the family
of his departed friend, for which he now began assiduously to collect
materials. This labour detained him until the month of May in Moscow;
and, before his migration to St Petersburg, the tragedy of Boris
Godunoff was printed. Among all the works of Pushkin there is not one
which exhibits so high a degree of artistic skill, or so vigorous and
powerful a genius, as this drama, in which every word, every dialogue,
seems to unite the certainty of study and meditation with the fire and
naturalness of a happy improvisation, and in which there is not a
character nor an allusion which destroys the truth and vigour of the
composition, viewed as a faithful mirror of Russian nationality, Russian
history, and Russian character. The remainder of Pushkin's short, alas!
but laborious life, however filled with the silent activity of
intellectual occupation, offers but few materials for the biographer: it
was passed principally at St Petersburg, varied by occasional journeys
to Moscow, and the usual _autumnal_ retirements, which we have mentioned
as having been so favourable for the execution of the poet's literary
tasks. We shall content ourselves with giving a slight account of the
principal works in which Pushkin employed his great powers--powers which
had now reached their highest point of vigour, retaining all the
freshness and vivacity of youth, while they had acquired the maturity
and solidity of manhood. The subjects of these works, however, being for
the most part historical, are of a nature which renders them less
susceptible of analysis in our pages--and indeed their local nature
would cause such analysis to be devoid, in a great measure, of interest
to the English reader. There is, however, one episode in the poet's
life, which must possess peculiar interest to those who delight to watch
that fond fidelity with which genius returns to the scenes where it was
first developed, and which brought back Shakspeare, loaded with glory,
to pass the calm evening of his life amid the native shades of
Stratford. On quitting Moscow for St Petersburg, Pushkin passed a winter
at Tsarskoe Selo. "This was a most blessed thought," he says, in a
letter of 26th March; "I can thus pass my summer and _autumn_ in a most
enchanting and inspiring seclusion; close to the capital, in the circle
of my dearest recollections. I shall be able to see you every week, and
Jukovskii also. Petersburg is within an hour's drive. Living is cheap
here. I shall not want an equipage. What can be better?" And, in fact,
it is certain that he never was so perfectly happy in his society and
his occupations, and in himself, as in these summer and autumn months
which he passed, as he says:--
"In those bright days when yet all ignorant of fame,
And knowing neither care, system, nor art, nor aim,
Thy tutelary shades, O Tsarskoe! were flinging
Gay echoes to _his_ voice, the praise of Idlesse singing."
The beautiful retirement of Tsarskoe Selo was at this period dignified
by the presence of two great poets, each producing works worthy of the
imperial groves under whose shade they were meditated. Pushkin and
Jukovskii were not only residing here together, but they were engaged in
a friendly rivalry, and each writing so industriously as though
determined never to meet without some new poetic novelty. The deep
impression produced by Jukovskii's patriotic stanzas, written at this
period, entitled "Russian Glory," was worthily responded to by the noble
poems written by Pushkin, "To the Slanderers of Russia!" and "The
Anniversary of Borodino,"--all these works being spirited and majestic
embodiments of national triumph and exultation.
It is curious and delightful to remark, too, that the poets of Tsarskoe
Selo were occupied, at this period, with the composition of two similar
works of another and no less national character. These were "tales" or
legends in the popular taste of the Russian people, that of Jukovskii
was entitled "The Lay of the Tsar Berendei," and Pushkin's, "The Lay of
the Tsar Saltan."
In this year, too, was printed Pushkin's small collection of prose
tales, under the assumed name of Ivan Bielkin, which appeared with a
biographical preface, describing the life and character of the supposed
author. The tales are of extraordinary merit, remarkable for the
simplicity and natural grace of the style, and the preface is a specimen
of consummate excellence in point of quiet Addisonian humour.
In the year 1831, Pushkin girded up his loins to enter upon the great
historical task; which had so long attracted his imagination, and
which, difficult and arduous as was the undertaking, he was probably
better calculated than any literary man whom Russia has yet seen, to
execute in a manner worthy of the sublime nature of its subject. This
was the history of Peter the Great. He now began to set seriously about
preparing himself for approaching this gigantic subject, and passed the
greater part of his time in the archives, collecting the necessary
materials for the work. In his hours of relaxation he produced the third
volume of his smaller poems, and superintended the publication of
another volume of the "Northern Flowers," which appeared in 1832. But
these must be considered as the results rather of his play-moments, than
as the serious occupation of his time. His mornings were generally
passed among the records preserved in the various departments of the
government, from whence, after the labours and researches of the day, he
usually returned on foot to his late dinner. He was an active and
indefatigable walker, prizing highly, and endeavouring to preserve by
constant exercise, the vigorous frame of body with which he was blessed
by nature. Even in summer he was accustomed to return on foot from his
country residence to his labours in the city, and was in the habit of
taking violent corporeal exercise in gymnastics, which he would continue
with the patience and enduring vigour of an athlete. These walks (it
should be remarked that a taste for walking is much more rare among the
Russians than in England, from the severity and extreme changes in the
climate of the North, the heat in summer rendering such exercise much
more laborious than with us, and the cold in winter necessitating the
use of the heavy shuba of fur)--these walks were Pushkin's principal
amusement, if we except bathing, an exercise which the poet would
frequently continue far into autumn--a season when the weather in Russia
is frequently very severe.
In the prosecution of his great historical labour, it was evidently
difficult for the lively imagination of Pushkin to escape the temptation
of being drawn aside from his chief aim, by the attractive and romantic
character of many episodes in Russian history--to wander for a moment
from the somewhat formal and arid high-road of history, into some of the
"shady spaces," peopled with romantic adventure and picturesque
incident. It was under the influence of some such attraction, that he
conceived the idea of working out in a separate production, the detached
epoch rendered so remarkable by the rebellion of Pugatcheff. Finding
that he had already performed the most serious portion of the drudgery
of collecting materials for his principal historical enterprise, he
drew, with a wonderfully rapid and lively pencil, the vigorous sketch of
the events of that extraordinary conspiracy, and has left us a work
which, whatever be its imperfections and slightness, viewed as a work of
history, cannot be denied to be a most admirable and striking outline of
the picturesque and singular events which form its subject. Convinced of
the importance, to an author of history, of a personal knowledge of the
scenes in which his events took place, Pushkin, when the history of
Pugatcheff's rebellion was already on the verge of completion,
determined (before his work was published) to examine with his own eyes
that eastern region of European Russia, which had been the theatre of
the strange drama of that singular pretender's life, and to enable
himself to infuse into a narration founded upon dry records, the life
and reality which was to be obtained from questioning the old
inhabitants of that country, many of whom might remember the wild
adventures of which, in their youth, they had been witnesses or actors.
In 1833, Pushkin was enabled to gratify this natural curiosity; and the
result of his visit to the scene of the rebellion enabled him to
communicate to his already plain, vigorous, and concise narration, a
tone of reality, a warmth of colouring, and a liveliness of language,
which renders it impossible to leave the book unfinished when once
opened, and which no elaborateness of research, and no minuteness of
detail, could otherwise have communicated.
During the first two years of its existence, the periodical entitled
"The Reading Library" was honoured by the appearance in its pages of
that division of Pushkin's smaller poems, afterwards published
separately as the fourth volume of his collected works, in the year
1835. In this journal, too, were printed his two prose tales "The Queen
of Spades" and "Kirdjali," the former of which has, we believe, appeared
in English, and of the latter a translation has been attempted, together
with several others of his smaller prose works, by the author of the
present notice. A journey which he made to Orenburg gave him the
materials for fresh prose tales. The most remarkable of these, the
beautiful and well-known story, "The Captain's Daughter," first appeared
in the periodical entitled "The Contemporary," which is justly
considered as the chief miscellaneous journal that appears in Russia,
and which partakes of the nature of what we in England call the review
and magazine. In all his writing, prose or verse, Pushkin is most
astonishingly unaffected, rational, and straightforward; but in the
last-named story he has attained the highest degree of perfection--it is
the simplicity of nature herself.
This period must be considered as that in which Pushkin had arrived at
the summit of his glory. He was now enjoying the universal respect and
admiration of his countrymen, a respect and admiration shared by the
sovereign himself, who distinguished the great poet by naming him
"gentilhomme de la chambre;" he was in the very flower of health, life,
and genius; he had completed the laborious part of his great task, in
collecting materials for the history of Peter the Great--all seemed to
prophesy a future filled with bright certainties of happiness and glory.
But the end was not far off; the dark and melancholy event which was to
put a sudden and a fatal conclusion to this glorious and useful career
was near at hand. The storm which was to quench this bright and shining
light was already rising dimly above the horizon; and the poet's
prophetic eye foresaw--like that of the seer in the Scripture--the
"little cloud like a man's hand," that was rising heavily over the calm
sky; he seems to have had an obscure presentiment of the near approach
of death, little suspecting, perhaps, that that death was to be one of
violence, of suffering, and of blood. He had, a few months before, lost
his mother, and had himself accompanied her last remains to the
monastery of Sviatogorsk, and had fixed upon a spot where he wished to
be buried by her side; leaving for this purpose a sum of money in the
treasury of the monastery.
It is, we believe, generally known, even in England, that Pushkin was
mortally wounded in a duel, on Wednesday 27th January, and that he died,
after lingering in excruciating[2] torment during two days and nights,
at half-past two in the afternoon of the 29th of January 1837.
Respecting the causes which led to this melancholy conclusion of a great
man's life, and the details which accompanied that sad and deplorable
event, it is not our intention to speak. Under any circumstances, to
dwell upon so lamentable an affair would serve no good purpose; and
would rather minister to a morbid curiosity in our readers, than in any
respect illustrate the life and character of Pushkin; but the propriety
of avoiding more than an allusion to this sad story will be evident,
when we reflect that the poet's dying wish was, that the whole
circumstance should if possible be buried in oblivion. Respect, then, to
the last desire of a dying man! Respect to the prayer of great genius,
whose lips, when quivering in the last agony, murmured the generous
words, "Pardon, and Forget!"
The foregoing brief notice is presented to the English reader less in
the character of a complete biography of Pushkin, (a character to which
it has evidently no pretensions,) than as a kind of necessary
introduction to the translated specimens of his poetry, which it is
intended to accompany. For a perfect biography, indeed, of the poet, the
materials, even in Russia, are not yet assembled; nor, perhaps, has a
sufficient period of time been suffered to elapse since his death, to
render it possible to attempt a life of Pushkin, with any hope of
preserving that _distance_ and _proportion_, which is necessary for the
successful execution of a portrait, whether traced with the pencil or
the pen. The artist may be too near to his original in _time_ as well as
in _space_.
The general accuracy of the preceding pages may be depended on; the
materials were obtained from various sources, but principally from two
persons who were both acquainted--one intimately so--with Pushkin. We
should be indeed ungrateful, were we to let pass the present opportunity
afforded us, of expressing our deep obligations to both those gentlemen
for the assistance they have given us; and we cannot deny ourselves the
gratification of publicly and particularly thanking M. Pletnieff, rector
of the Imperial University of St Petersburg, not only for the kind
manner in which he facilitated the composition of these pages, by
supplying us with a copy of his own elegant and spirited critical sketch
of Pushkin's works and character (a short but masterly article,
reprinted from the "Sovremennik," or Contemporary, a literary journal of
which M. Pletnieff is the editor,) but for the many delightful and
intellectual hours which we have passed in his society.