Russian Novelists (1887)/3
CHAPTER III.
THE EVOLUTION OF REALISM IN RUSSIA.—GOGOL.
The first Russian tale or romance was published in 1799, but nothing of note appeared before 1840; although we have seen what success Karamzin obtained with his touching romances, especially with "La Pauvre Lise." Several historical romances also appeared about this time, (1820), inspired, no doubt, by the unprecedented popularity and success of those of Sir Walter Scott. But lyric poetry and romanticism had not lost their influence, and even Pushkin's little historical tales savor more of the classic period, and are rather works of the imagination than studies from real life. The historical and so-called popular novel, however, with its superhuman heroes, was now becoming tedious; and authors were already appearing who had begun to observe the life around them attentively, and to take pleasure in studying something outside of themselves. The same causes conspired to produce, almost simultaneously, three writers destined to accomplish the same task: Dickens in England, Balzac in France, and Gogol in Russia. Gogol developed his work more slowly than the others at first, but collected rich materials for his successors. He may be called the first of Russian prose writers; and we shall see by a study of his character and works, what a foundation he laid for future progress in prose literature in his country, and what stirring controversies his books called forth.
I.
Gogol was a Cossack, from Little Russia or Ukraine. For Russian readers, that is quite enough to explain the peculiar qualities of his mind and its productions, which were characterized by keen but kindly satire, with a tinge of melancholy ever running through and underneath it. He is the natural product of the land which gave him birth. This frontier country is subject to the contending influences of both north and south. For a few short months the sun revels there and accomplishes an almost miraculous work—an oriental brilliancy of light by day, and soft, enchanting nights under a sky resplendent with stars. Magnificent harvests from the fertile soil ensure an easy, joyous life; all trouble and sadness vanish with the melting snow, and spirits rise to general gayety and enthusiasm.
But the boundless spaces, the limitless horizons of these sunny plains overwhelm the spirit; one cannot long feel joyous in the presence of Infinity. The habit of thought becomes like that of the eye ; is lost in space, develops an inclination to revery, which causes the mind to fall back upon itself, and the imagination is, so to speak, thrown inward.
Winter transforms the Russian. Upon the Dnieper the winter is nearly as severe as on the Neva. There is nothing to check the icy winds from the north. Death comes suddenly to claim its reign. Both earth and man are paralyzed. Just as Ukraine was subjugated by the armies of Moscow, so it is taken possession of by the climate of Moscow. On this great battle-field nature carries out the plan of this country's political history, the vicissitudes of which have no doubt contributed, as well as those of climate, to form its own peculiar physiognomy.
Little Russia was at one time overrun by the Turks; and derived from its long association with them many oriental traits. Then it was subdued by Poland, which has transmitted something of its savage luxury to its vassal. Afterwards the Cossack leagues established there their republican spirit of independence. The traditions of this epoch are dearest of all to the heart of the Little Russian, who claims from them his inheritance of wild freedom and prowess. An ancient order of Cossack chivalry, the Zaporovian League, recruited from brigands and fugitive serfs, had always been in constant warfare, obeying no law but that of the sword. Families who were descended directly from this stock (Gogol's was one of them) inherited this spirit of revolt, as well as wandering instincts, and a love of adventure and the marvellous. The complex elements of this character, which is more free, jovial, and prompt in action than that of the native of Russia proper, have strongly influenced the literature of Russia through Gogol, whose heart clung with tenacity to his native soil. In fact, the first half of his life's work is a picture of life in Ukraine, with its legends.
Gogol (Nikolai Vasilievitch) was born near Poltava in 1809, in the very heart of the Cossack country. His grandfather, who was his first teacher, was regimental scribe to the Zaporovian League.[1] The child listened from infancy to the tales of this grandfather, inexhaustible tales of heroic deeds during the great wars with Poland, as well as thrilling exploits of these Corsairs of the Steppes. His young imagination was fed with these stories, tragedies of military life, and rustic fairy-tales and legends, which are given to us almost intact in his "Evenings at the Farm," and in his poem of "Taras Bulba." His whole surroundings spoke to him of an age of fable not long past; of a primitive poetry still alive in the customs of the people. This condensed poetry reaches us after passing through two prisms; the recollections of old age, which recalls while it regrets the past; and the impressions of a child's fancy, which is dazzled by what it hears. This was the first and perhaps the most profitable part of the young boy's education. He was afterwards put into an institution, where he was taught Latin and other languages; but, according to his biographers, he never excelled in scholarship. He must have made up for lost time later on ; for all his contemporaries speak of his extensive reading and his perfect familiarity with all the literature of the Occident.
His letters written to his mother before leaving school show already the bent of his mind. Keen, observant, and satirical, his wit is sometimes exercised at the expense of his comrades. He already showed signs of a deeply religious nature, and was ambitious too of a great career. His high hopes are sometimes temporarily crushed by a sudden depression or feeling of discouragement, and in his letters he declaims against the injustice of men. He feels the pervading influence of the Byronism of that time. "I feel as if called," cries the young enthusiast, "to some great, some noble task, for the good of my country, for the happiness of my fellow-citizens and of all mankind. My soul feels the presence of an angel from heaven, calling, impelling me towards the lofty aim I aspire to."
A Russian who lived under the rule of the Emperor Nicholas, and was eager to work for the happiness of his fellow-men, had no choice of means. He must enter the government service, and laboriously climb the steps of the administrative hierarchy, which appropriates to itself every force of the community and nation. Having completed his studies, Gogol set out for St. Petersburg. It was in the year 1829, and he was twenty years of age. With empty pockets, but rich in illusions, he approached the capital just as his Cossack ancestors had entered the cities they conquered; thinking he had only to walk boldly forward and claim everything he desired. But the future au- thor, destined to play so prominent a part in the life and literature of his country, must now put aside his dreams and taste the stern reality of life. A few weeks' experience taught him that the great capital was for him more of a desert than his native steppe. He was refused everything he applied for; for a provincial with no letters of introduction could expect nothing else. In a fit of despair, he determined to leave St. Petersburg. One day, having received a small sum from his mother, which she had saved to pay off a mortgage on their house, instead of depositing the money in a bank, he jumped on board a ship to go — some- where, anywhere — forward, into the great world; like a child who had become imbued with the spirit of adventure, from reading Robinson Crusoe. He left the boat at her first landing-place, which was Lubeck. Having wandered about the city for three days, he returned to St. Petersburg, cured of his folly, and resigned to bear patiently whatever was in store for him.
With great difficulty he obtained a modest position in an office connected with the government, where he only remained one year, but where he received impressions which were to haunt his whole future life. It was here that he studied the model of that wretched hero of his work, "Le Manteau," in flesh and blood.
Becoming weary of his occupation, he attempted acting, but his voice was not thought strong enough. He then became a tutor in families of the aristocracy of St. Petersburg; and finally was appointed to a professorship in the University. But although he made a brilliant opening address, his pupils soon complained that he put them to sleep, and he lost the situation. It was at this juncture that he took refuge in literature. He published at first a few modest essays in the leading journals, which attracted some attention, and Zhukovski had introduced him to Pushkin. Gogol has related with what fear and trembling he rung one morning at the door of the great poet. Pushkin had not yet risen, having been up all night, as his valet said. When Gogol begged to be excused for disturbing one so occupied with his literary labors, the servant informed him that his master had passed the night playing cards. What a disenchantment for an admirer of the great poet!
But Gogol was warmly welcomed. Pushkin's noble heart, too great for envy, enjoyed the success of others. His eager sympathy, lavish praise, and encouragement have produced legions of authors. Gogol, among them all, was his favorite. At first he advised him to write sketches descriptive of the national history and the customs of the people. Gogol followed his advice and wrote his "Evenings at a Farm near Dikanka."[2]
II. This book is a chronicle of scenes of the author's childhood; and all his love and youthful recollections of the country of the Cossacks are poured from his heart into this book.
A certain old man, whose occupation is that of raising bees, is the story-teller of the party. He relates tales of Little Russia, so that we see it under every aspect; and gives glimpses of scenery, rustic habits and customs, the familiar dialogues of the people, and all sorts of legends, both terrible and grotesque. The gay and the supernatural are strangely blended in these recitals, but the gay element predominates; for Gogol's smile has as yet no bitterness in it. His laugh is the hearty, frank laugh of the young Cossack who enjoys life. All this is related in racy, expressive language, full of words peculiar to Little Russia, curious local expressions, and those affectionate diminutives quite impossible to translate or ex- press in a more formal language. Sometimes the author bursts forth in a poetical vein, when cer- tain impressions or scenes of his native country float before his eyes. At the beginning of his " Night in May " is this paragraph : — " Do you know the beauty of the nights of Ukraine ? The moon looks down from the deep, immeasurable vault, which is filled to overflowing and palpitating with its pure radiance. The earth is silver ; the air is deliciously cool, yet almost oppressive with perfume. Divine, enchanting night! The great forest trees, black, solemn, and still, reposing as if oppressed with thought, throw out their gigantic shadows. How silent are the ponds! Their dark waters are imprisoned within the vine- laden walls of the gardens. The little virgin forest of wild cherry and young plum-trees dip their dainty roots timidly into the cold waters; their murmuring leaves angrily shiver when a little cur- rent of the night wind stealthily creeps in to caress them. The distant horizon sleeps, but above it and overhead all is palpitating life ; august, triumphal, sublime ! Like the firmament, the soul seems to open into endless space ; silvery visions of grace and beauty arise before it. Oh! the charm of this divine night!
" Suddenly life, animation, spreads through for- est, lake, and steppe. The nightingale's majestic trill resounds through the air; the moon seems to stop, embosomed in clouds, to listen. The little village on the hill is wrapt in an enchanted slum- ber ; its cluster of white cottages gleam vividly in the moonlight, and the outlines of their low walls are sharply clear-cut against the dark shadows. All songs are hushed ; silence reigns in the homes of these simple peasants. But here and there a twinkling light appears in a little window of some cottage, where supper has waited for a belated occupant."
Then, from a scene like this, we are called to listen to a dispute and quarrel between two soldiers, which ends in a dance. Now the scene changes again. The lady of the lake, the Fate lady, rises from her watery couch, and by her sorceries unravels the web of fortune. Again, between the uproarious bursts of laughter, the old story-teller heaves a melancholy sigh, and relates a bit of pathos, — for a vein of sadness is always latent in the gay songs and legends of this people. These sharp contrasts fill this work with life and color. The book excited considerable at- tention, and was the more welcome as it revealed a corner of Russia then hardly known. Gogol had struck the right chord. Pushkin, who especially enjoyed humor, lauded the work to the skies ; and it is still highly appreciated by Russians.
As for us, while we recognize its high qualities, the work does not wholly please us. Perhaps we are too old or morose to appreciate and enjoy these rustic jokes, and the comic scenes are perhaps a little coarse for our liking. It may be, too, that the enthusiastic readers of 1832 looked upon life with different eyes from ours; and that it is only the difference in time that biases our opinion. To them this book was wonderfully in advance of its time; to us it seems perhaps somewhat behind. Nothing is more difficult than to estimate what effect a work which is already old (especially if it be written in a foreign language) will produce our readers of to-day. Are we amused by the legend of "La Dame Blanche"? Certainly we are, for everybody enjoys it. Then perhaps the "Ladies of the Lake" of Gogol's book will be amusing.
In 1834 Gogol published his "Evenings near Mirgorod," including a veritable ghost story, terror-inspiring enough to make the flesh creep.
The principal work of this period of the author's career, however, and the one which established his fame, was "Taras Bulba," a prose epic, a poetical description of Cossack life as it was in his grandfather's time. Not every writer of modern epics has been so fortunate as Gogol; to live at a time when he could apply Homer's method to a subject made to his hand; only repeating, as he himself said, the narratives of his grandfather, an actual witness and actor in this Iliad. It was scarcely more than half a century since the breaking-up of the Zaporovian camps of the corsairs and the last Polish war, in which Cossack and Pole vied with each other in ferocious deeds of valor, license, and adventure. This war forms the subject of the principal scenes of this drama, which also gives a vivid picture of the daily life of the savage republic of the Zaporovian Cossacks. The work is full of picturesque descriptions, and possesses every quality belonging to an epic poem.
M. Viardot has given us an honest version of "Taras Bulba," giving more actual information about this republic of the Dnieper than any of the erudite dissertations on the subject. But what is absolutely impossible to render in a translation is the marvellous beauty of Gogol's poetic prose. The Russian language is undoubtedly the richest of all the European languages. It is so very clear and concise that a single word is often sufficient to express several different connected ideas, which, in any other language, would require several phrases. Therefore I will refrain from giving any quotations of these classic pages, which are taught in all the Russian schools.
The poem is very unequal in some respects. The love passages are inferior and commonplace, and the scenes of passion decidedly hackneyed in style and expression. In regard to epic poems, the truth is that the mould is worn out; it has been used too long; although Guizot, one of the best judges of this sort of composition, said that in his opinion "Taras Bulba" was the only modern epic poem worthy of the name.
Even the descriptions of scenery in "Taras" do not seem to us wholly natural. We must compare them with those of Turgenef to realize how comparatively inferior they are. Both were students and lovers of nature: but the one artist placed his model before his easel in whatever attitude he chose; while to the other she was a despotic mistress, whose every fancy he humbly obeyed. This can be readily understood by a comparison of some of their works. Although I am not fond of epics, I have called particular attention to "Taras Bulba," knowing what pride the Russians take in the work.
III.
In 1835, Nikolai Vasilievitch (Gogol) gave up his position in the University, and left the public service for good. "Now I am again a free Cossack!" he wrote at this time, which was the time of his greatest literary activity.
His novels now show him groping after realism, rather than indulging his fancy. Among the unequal productions of the transition period, "Le Manteau " is the most notable one. A late Russian politician and author once said to me: "Nous sommes tous sortis du manteau de Gogol."
"Le Manteau" (as well as the "Revizor," "Inspector-General ") was the outgrowth of his one year's experience in the government offices ; and the fulfilment of a desire to avenge his life of a galley slave while there. These works were his first blows aimed at the administrative power. Gogol had always had a desire to write for the stage ; and produced several satirical comedies ; but none of them, except the " Revizor," had any success. The plot of the piece is quite simple. The functionaries of a provincial government office are expecting the arrival of an inspector, who was supposed to come incognito to examine their books and accounts. A traveller chances to alight at the inn, whom they all suppose to be the dreaded officer of justice. Their guilty con- sciences make them terribly anxious. Each one attacks the supposed judge, to plead his own cause, and denounce a colleague, slipping into the man's hand a generous supply of propitiatory roubles. Amazed at first, the stranger is, how- ever, astute enough to accept the situation and pocket the money. The confusion increases, until comes the crash of the final thunderbolt, when the real commissioner arrives upon the scene.
The intention of the piece is clearly marked. The venality and arbitrariness of the administration are exposed to view. Gogol says, in his " Confessions of an Author": "In the 'Revizor,' I tried to present in a mass the results arising from the one crying evil of Russia, as I recognized it in that year; to expose every crime that is committed in those offices, where the strictest uprightness should be required and expected. I meant to satirize the great evil. The effect produced upon the public was a sort of terror; for they felt the force of my true sentiments, my real sadness and disgust, through the gay satire."
In fact, the disagreeable effect predominated over the fun, especially in the opinion of a foreigner; for there is nothing of the French lightness and elegance of diction in the Russian style. I mean that quality which redeems Moliere's "Tartuffe" from being the blackest and most terrible of dramas.
When we study the Russian drama, we can see why this form of art is more backward in that country than in any other. Poetry and romance have made more rapid strides, because they are taken up only by the cultivated class. There is virtually no middle class; and theatrical literature, the only diversion for the people, has remained in its infancy.
There is an element of coarseness in the drollery of even the two masterpieces: the comedy by Griboyedof, "Le Mal de Trop d'Esprit," and the "Revizor" by Gogol. In their satire there is no medium between broad fun and bitterness. The subtle wit of the French author Page:Russian Novelists (1887).djvu/75 Page:Russian Novelists (1887).djvu/76 Page:Russian Novelists (1887).djvu/77 Page:Russian Novelists (1887).djvu/78 Page:Russian Novelists (1887).djvu/79 Page:Russian Novelists (1887).djvu/80 Page:Russian Novelists (1887).djvu/81 Page:Russian Novelists (1887).djvu/82 Page:Russian Novelists (1887).djvu/83 Page:Russian Novelists (1887).djvu/84 Page:Russian Novelists (1887).djvu/85 Page:Russian Novelists (1887).djvu/86 Page:Russian Novelists (1887).djvu/87 Page:Russian Novelists (1887).djvu/88 Page:Russian Novelists (1887).djvu/89 Page:Russian Novelists (1887).djvu/90 Page:Russian Novelists (1887).djvu/91