Translated material
Silent Thunder
To the bicentenary of one great poem
Exactly two centuries ago, in the summer of 1807, the recognized luminary of the then Russian poets Gavrila Derzhavin wrote a message “to Eugene. Zvanskaya’s life.” The former leader of great state affairs, senator and minister, a faithful but obstinate servant of three sovereigns, sent into honorable retirement for too zealous service (according to the word of Emperor Alexander, who said goodbye to Derzhavin), found peace in the Novgorod estate. In the measured series of everyday fun and easy home activities, hours of creative soaring and sophisticated thinking take a worthy place. Not everyone, to be honest, plays cards - borrowing pennies and no return!From there I come to the sanctuary of the Muses, / And with Flaccus, Pindar, the gods are seated at a feast, / To the kings, to my friends, or I ascend to heaven, / Or I glorify rural life on the lyre. // Or in the mirror of times, shaking my head, / I look at the passions, at the deeds of ancient and new centuries, / Seeing nothing but love alone / For myself - and the fights of people. The fight, however, can be observed without the “mirror of times.” The roar of the European war can also be heard on the cozy banks of the Volkhov. Below Derzhavin will write: The sight of a red summer is Alexander's age for us:/ With the heart of tender lyres it is convenient to move the strings;/ A man was blissful under him in peace,/ But today he also places Peruns. And later he will grumpily comment for ignorant posterity: “Emperor Alexander was of a meek spirit and with a peaceful disposition, but was led by those around him into very unpleasant military affairs.”
In the fall of 1806, Napoleon's troops occupied Prussia and confidently moved east. The manifesto signed by the sovereign on November 16, 1806 read: “Russians, who are accustomed to loving the glory of the fatherland and sacrificing everything to it, do not need to explain how much these incidents make a real war necessary.” The troops set out to meet the enslaver of Europe, the writers took up their pens. On January 14, 1807, at the Bolshoi Theater in St. Petersburg, Vladislav Ozerov’s fresh tragedy “Dimitri Donskoy” was presented with appropriate splendor. It opened with a monologue by the title character: Russian princes, boyars, governors, / Who crossed the Don to seek freedom / And finally overthrow violence with the yoke! / How long were we in our fatherland / Tolerate the Tatars’ power and in a humiliated lot / Sit as their slaves on the princely throne? Actor Yakovlev, who played the role of Prince Dimitri, placed a powerful emphasis on the word “finally” - to the great delight of the large audience. “Nothing could be more aprope (from the French a propos, by the way. - A.N. ), as one old funny man used to say,” the memoirist, prone to malice, recalled about the public’s reaction. The recent battle of Pultusk was considered almost a victory and a guarantee of the future overthrow of the new Mamai. It has already become a reality on stage. In the finale, the nameless warrior announced to Dimitri: Your brother Serpukhovsky, who was pursuing the khan,/ is waiting, sir, for you with his army at the camp./ Marveling at your valor and exploits,/ the universal voice of war called you Donskoy. And together with the audience, I listened in admiration to the answer of the ancient hero, naturally identified with the adored sovereign: Let us go, let us add to their joy with our generosity,/ Let us calm the wounded, and send our duty to the dead!/ But the first duty of our hearts is to you, the King of kings!/ Are all kingdoms held by Your right hand? - / Glorify, and establish, and exalt Russia! / Like the dust of the earth, erase the enemies’ arrogant neck, / So that a foreigner can say with trepidation: “Languages, know: great is the Russian God!”
On February 8, the battle of Preuss-Eylau, which Napoleon, who was thoroughly knowledgeable in such matters, succinctly called a “massacre,” ended, as they say, in a draw. The confrontation continued with varying success until June 14, when a repeat of Austerlitz happened near Friedland. On June 25, the emperors met in Tilsit, and on July 7, a deeply humiliating peace for Russia was signed there.
“The Life of Zvanskaya” was written even before the disaster - with the distant roar of a seemingly successful war, but here Derzhavin (the singer of the capture of Izmail and the crossing of the Alps) was clearly not generous with the jubilant sounds of victory. The world is better for him than the thunder of the Peruns. Will they be silent? - This is only known by He, / Who rules all spheres towards one end; / He leads them with his finger, like a system, / Inclining measures towards the common good. // He is the roots of thoughts, he sees the flight of all dreams, / And he mocks the madness of people: / Those are illuminated by darkness, those are darkened by the light, / Both of today and of future centuries. // Rossov strengthened his chest like a wall, he repelled/ The new Temir near Pultusk, Preissh-lau;/ The look of the young leaders blossomed with victories there,/ And hid the glory of the gray eagle.
Having mentioned the recent half-victories (and how could we not), Derzhavin does not abandon his favorite thought about the “madness of people.” History is decided by the mysterious will of God, not a single triumph is complete - Field Marshal Kamensky (“gray eagle”) gave up the glory of the winner to his subordinate, General Bennigsen. And from this “particularity” it is easy to move on to the “general rule”: So the brightest stars’ shine fades from the nights. / What is life insignificant? My meager lyre!/ Alas! and even the dust will cover my bones / Saturn’s wings from the decay of the world.
As we remember, Derzhavin spoke above about the immutability of the perishable world. He knew the value of earthly existence and human memory. But paradoxically, he did not stop at this sad point. The verse about the unchanging selfishness and pugnacity of people, in fact, is immediately refuted; the wisdom of Ecclesiastes appears as yet another delusion: All is vanity of vanities! I sigh and remember: / But casting my gaze on the brilliance of the midday luminary, / Oh, how beautiful the world is! Why is my spirit a burden?/ The Creator contains the universe. // May His will be on earth and in heaven/ the One in all omnipotent will!/ He sees the entire depth of my heart,/ And my share is built by him. Well, then about the peasant children who come to me, not for any science, / But to take a few bagels, pretzels, / So that the beeches do not ripen in me. About a simple rural lunch with “crimson ham”, pike “with a blue feather” and other colorful and gastronomic luxuries. About wine, coffee, games, needlework and crafts, walks, dancing and music. And again about solitude - Why doesn’t my mind enter into my dormant mind?
This is where the plot of transient worldly glory unfolds, intertwined with the imaginary grandeur of recent dubious victories and leading to the next apotheosis of perishability. Of course, again refuted. The glorious addressee (of course, not so much the “formal”, Eminence Evgeniy, in the world Bolkhovitinov, a good friend of Derzhavin and the author of the first dictionary of Russian writers, but rather another - a providential interlocutor) will fulfill the will of the author: It is not in vain that the wheel of cheerful, gloomy days./ On exaltation, on the decline of happiness, / By the only truth of me in the minds of people / Through Klia you will resurrect harmony. // So, in the darkness of eternity, with her trumpet / It is only convenient to reveal that place, those reviews, / From my lyre like a noisy river / Rushed through the hills, valleys, fields. // You heard them, - and you, waking up with your pen / Descendants from sleep, near the north of the capital, / Whisper in the ear of a wanderer, in the distance like quiet thunder: / “Here lived a singer of God, - - Felitsa!” Two hundred years have passed, but quiet thunder can still be heard.