Works of Alexander Pushkin (110 page)

THE ROMANTIC POETS: POUSHKIN by Rosa Newmarch

RUSSIAN society was now expectant of some consummate manifestation of national genius. Lomonossov had awakened the intellect of the country and provided it with a literary language; dignified, correct, based on the classical traditions of the eighteenth century — the language of the panegyrical ode and the metrical epistle. Karamzin had touched a frigid, artificial age by a senti- mentalism that was, however, only partly sincere. But, as Bielinsky observed, tears — even factitious — marked an advance in the evolution of Russian society. Krylov had taught society to laugh, as Karamzin taught it to weep, but more naturally. He held up a mirror in which, for the first time, the nation saw itself reflected as it actually was. Not, indeed, with perfect fidelity, for the mirror of the satirist, pure and simple, generally distorts something; but Krylov’s fables remain the first imperfect revelation of nationality in Russian literature. Joukovsky stirred both the heart and the imagination of the reader. The Russians now drank at the haunted well of romanticism; saw strange visions and were thrilled by new sensations. Joukovsky’s unsubstantial, dreamy poetry had not sufficient stamina to form a new epoch, but through its agency society realised not only the movements of the outer world, but its own emotional capacities. By these various paths we have now reached that converging point at which we are confronted with a figure, greater than any we have yet considered, who seems to close the gates finally upon the old “preparatory period” of Russian literature and to point to a new road, leading on to nationality and independent creation.

Alexander Sergeivich Poushkin was born at Moscow on May 26th, 1799. His father — the poet was proud to remember — was the descendant of an old, although not a titled, family. A man of many accomplishments, he took a lively interest in the various literary movements of his day, and was inclined to the Voltairean philosophy. The poet’s uncle, Vassily Lvovich, was even better known in the fashionable and cultured world, as a member of that famous literary society, the “Arzamas,” and as the writer of smooth and flowing verses, from which Poushkin learnt much of his technical skill. The brothers Serge and Vassily Poushkin were representative types of the absentee aristocracy in Russia at the close of the eighteenth century: easy-going, hospitable, and highly, if somewhat superficially, cultured. Country life to them and their like meant intolerable boredom; nor did they trouble to inquire into the condition of their property so long as it yielded the wherewithal to support them in a kind of dilapidated splendour in Moscow. Their town house, with its superb furniture and rich hangings in one room, its bare walls and rush-seated chairs in another, was highly characteristic of the manner of living among the poorer Russian aristocracy, then, and at a much later date.

On the maternal side Poushkin’s descent was less impeccable, although he did his best to set his maternal grandfather in a picturesque and romantic light. The poet’s mother was the granddaughter of Ibraham Hannibal, a negro sent to Peter the Great — an amateur of all such “curiosities” — by the Russian ambassador at Constantinople. Hannibal’s boyhood was spent at Court, and afterwards he was sent to Paris, although not under such luxurious circumstances as Poushkin depicts in his
Memoirs
of his ancestor, whom he euphemistically describes as “Peter the Great’s Arab.” The physiognomy of the poet himself, the thick lips, crisp, curly hair, and the nose which broadens and flattens across the nostrils, all point to an admixture of pure
negro
, rather than of
Arab
blood. In spite of a veneer of education, Hannibal appears to have retained a good deal of the savage in his nature. The poet’s grandfather, Ossip Hannibal, was also a man of violent temper and unbridled passions, and Poushkin himself was sensible of what in moments of cynical frankness he calls “the inherited taint of negro concupiscence.” His grandmother, whose brief, unhappy married life came to an end in 1784, when Ossip Hannibal was tried and found guilty of bigamy, was a woman of character, who exercised considerable influence on the poet’s early years.

Until seven years of age Poushkin showed no signs of intellectual superiority. On the contrary, he was so unnaturally dull and heavy that he gave his parents serious cause for anxiety. The shy, unattractive child was neglected by his mother in favour of his sister Olga and his younger brother Leo. The sole friends of his early childhood were his grandmother and his nurse, Arina Rodionova. The latter, a typical specimen of the old-fashioned, devoted family servant, had the whole world of Russian folk-lore at her finger-ends, and from her Poushkin first acquired his intimate knowledge of the national songs and legends. His grandmother also stirred his historical interest by relating her reminiscences of the splendour of Court life under the great Empress Catharine II. After he had passed his seventh year, Poushkin’s entire constitution underwent an almost miraculous change. He lost his heavy gait and stolid air, becoming active and sprightly. His father now began to interest himself in the boy’s education, and several foreign teachers were engaged for him. By the time he was nine he had already evinced that passionate enthusiasm for literature which never waned at any moment of his career. Skabichevsky, speaking of this period of Poushkin’s life, says: “Private theatricals and
jeux d’esprit
of all kinds were constantly going on at home, and the children were allowed to take part in them. It is not surprising that before he was twelve Poushkin made his first attempts at writing verses.” These verses were in the style of La Fontaine or Voltaire, and his little plays were borrowed from Molière, for French was the language in which he thought and wrote in his childhood.

Poushkin’s parents, who had felt such anxiety as to his sluggish temperament, were now equally alarmed at “the spirit of unresting flame” which seemed to possess him. He threatened to become unmanageable on account of his quick temper and exuberant vitality, therefore it was decided to send him to school. In August, 1811, Poushkin entered the Lycée for the sons of the nobility, at Tsarsky Selo.

Like many another poet, Poushkin proved an unsatisfactory scholar. The director of the Lycée prophesied a poor future for the youth who neglected his legitimate studies for desultory reading in the school library, and wasted valuable hours in editing the school magazine. His earliest published verses appeared in the
Europy Vestnik
in 1814, over the signature “Alexander N. K.”; and the following year his full name was revealed to the literary world. In January, 1815, a public examination took place at the school, to which many important officials were invited. Among the visitors was Derjavin. The old poet’s attention was attracted to Poushkin when the latter came forward to recite his own verses, “Reminiscences of Tsarsky Selo.” He carried back to Petersburg a lively impression of the youth’s genius and a copy of the verses he had recited. From that moment Poushkin’s name became known to the chief literary men of the day. Joukovsky, then at the zenith of his popularity, conceived the highest hopes of Poushkin’s future; and such was his belief in the lad’s innate genius that he did not hesitate to submit his own poetry to this critic of sixteen. Henceforward Joukovsky showed a paternal affection and solicitude for Poushkin, who, in his turn, used to call the older man his “guardian angel.” The following year Karamzin settled for a time at Tsarsky Selo, and renewed his acquaintance with Poushkin, whom he had seen as a child at his father’s house in Moscow. Their relations became intimate, and chapter after chapter of the famous
History
was read aloud to Poushkin by the author. Encouraged by the appreciation of such authorities, the young man devoted himself almost entirely to the development of his poetic gift. At school he wrote about two hundred lyrics and epigrams, and the sketch of a longer poem, “Russian and Lioudmilla.”

Poushkin left school in 1817, and shortly afterwards entered a regiment of foot guards. Henceforth he embarked upon that strange dual existence which gives to his career an air of inconsistency, and makes many of his actions and opinions so difficult to interpret..He possessed a fine physique; was a keen sportsman, an excellent athlete, an accomplished horseman, and one of the best pupils of the famous fencing-master Belville. He had, in fact, all the qualities which contributed to make him popular in the fashionable military set in which he was now launched. The unsavoury chronicle of intrigues, duels, and excesses of all kinds in which he indulged at this period of his life has probably lost nothing in transmission. It is doubtful whether Poushkin or Byron were as black as they painted themselves and so induced others to paint them. Poushkin undoubtedly maintained a lofty and almost sacerdotal conception of the poet’s mission, and would break away suddenly from his unwholesome surroundings at some secret prompting of his inspiration. Like Dagonet, he “wallowed, then he washed” ; after which he would soar on wings apparently unsoiled to the rarefied atmosphere of the sublime.

The dualism of his moral life is equally apparent in his attitude towards social and political questions. He was a welcome member of the “Arzamas,” a society formed in support of such moderate literary and social reformers as Karamzin and Joukovsky, in opposition to the “Shish- kovists,” or blind adherents of past tradition. The period was marked by a craze for societies of every kind, open or secret, political, literary, masonic, or bacchanalian. In the last category we may place “the Society of the Green Lamp,” to which Poushkin and some of his brother officers belonged. But there were also other societies likely to prove still more dangerous to a hot-headed youth at the outset of his career. Such were the political unions, in which he imbibed ideas by no means in accordance with the liberal- conservativism of Joukovsky or Karamzin. The leading members of such secret organisations were Mouraviev, the two Ryleievs, Bestoujiev- Riumin, Pestel, and others; almost all involved in the unfortunate plot of December, 1825, and destined to end their days on the gallows or in Siberia.

It is not clear how far Poushkin was implicated in the doings of these secret societies. It is evident that for a time, at least, he was in sympathy with their designs and desired to take an active share in the liberal movement. His susceptible nature could not remain unaffected at a moment when “free thoughts like lightnings were alive” and running through all society. Perhaps it was fortunate for him that his aristocratic environment and a reputation for frivolity procured for him only a lukewarm reception among the conspirators. Partly from a real, but transient, enthusiasm, and partly for the sake of excitement and notoriety, he put his gifts at the service of the liberal cause. A number of his satirical verses were soon circulated in private, which increased his popularity, but placed him in a dangerous position with the Government. Two or three warnings and reprimands not having sufficed to teach Poushkin prudence, complaints of his conduct at length reached the ears of Alexander I, who threatened to send him to Siberia. Poushkin, now seriously alarmed, entreated Karamzin to intervene on his behalf. The historian promised, on condition that the young man ceased his attacks upon the higher powers. But even Karamzin’s influence could not entirely avert punishment. Poushkin was not sent to Siberia, but transferred from the Guards to serve on a council of administration in the southern provinces of Russia.

The penalty exacted for his youthful indiscretions was not very severe, and actually proved a blessing in disguise. But although sustained by the consciousness of the martyr’s role, and the knowledge that his friends at Court would do their best to shorten the period of his disgrace, Poushkin seems to have taken his exile in a bitter and resentful spirit.

No sooner had he arrived at Yekaterinoslav than he was laid up with a severe attack of fever. General Raevsky, the father of one of Poushkin’s school friends, chanced to be passing through the town on his way to take over a command in the Caucasus. Pitying the young man in his sickness and solitude, Raevsky obtained leave to take him up to the hills. The time which Poushkin spent with the Raevsky family was one of the happiest and most stimulating in his career.

The grandeur of the Caucasian scenery stirred his imagination and gave a new direction to his thoughts. At this time, too, he first became acquainted with Byron’s poetry. During this visit, and later on, while staying with the Raev- skys at their estate at Kamenka, he found himself in a circle of enthusiastic Byron worshippers. The circumstances of his own life at the time, his sense of rebellion against society, his resentful misanthropy, all contributed to make him fall an easy victim to the Byronic fascination. The Polish poet, Mickiewicz, describes this influence in picturesque, if somewhat exaggerated, terms. “Poushkin,” he says, “fell into Byron’s sphere of attraction, and revolved round this orb like a planet lighted by its rays. In the works of this period all is Byronic — the subjects, characters, ideas, and forms.” But Mickiewicz does not regard Poushkin as a mere imitator of the English poet; he considers him not so much a
Byronist
as a
Byroniac
— possessed by the spirit of Byron. Later on I shall endeavour to show the extent and intensity of Byron’s influence upon Poushkin’s works; for the present I am only concerned with its immediate effect upon his manner of life. The side of Byron which appealed most directly to Poushkin and to his generation was not so much his pessimism as his contempt for social observances; his rebellion against traditional and prescribed morality and his haughty individualism. Pypin thinks this side of Byronism was really of service to Russian society, since “it raised the tone of the
intelligentsia
and taught a man to be the master of his own individuality. Poushkin and his friends seemed as anti-Christ to the hypocrites of their day; not because they upheld in their writings any special political or philosophical ideas, but because of their whole mode of existence: their fantastic style of dress, the occasions they gave for scandal, and their passion for duelling.”