Dreaming herself the heroine Of the romances she preferred, Clarissa, Julia, Delphine,--(32) Tattiana through the forest erred, And the bad book accompanies.

Upon those pages she descries Her pa.s.sion's faithful counterpart, Fruit of the yearnings of the heart.

She heaves a sigh and deep intent On raptures, sorrows not her own, She murmurs in an undertone A letter for her hero meant: That hero, though his merit shone, Was certainly no Grandison.

[Note 32: Referring to Richardson's "Clarissa Harlowe," "La Nouvelle Heloise," and Madame de Stael's "Delphine."]

X

Alas! my friends, the years flit by And after them at headlong pace The evanescent fas.h.i.+ons fly In motley and amusing chase.

The world is ever altering!

Farthingales, patches, were the thing, And courtier, fop, and usurer Would once in powdered wig appear; Time was, the poet's tender quill In hopes of everlasting fame A finished madrigal would frame Or couplets more ingenious still; Time was, a valiant general might Serve who could neither read nor write.

XI

Time was, in style magniloquent Authors replete with sacred fire Their heroes used to represent All that perfection could desire; Ever by adverse fate oppressed, Their idols they were wont to invest With intellect, a taste refined, And handsome countenance combined, A heart wherein pure pa.s.sion burnt; The excited hero in a trice Was ready for self-sacrifice, And in the final tome we learnt, Vice had due punishment awarded, Virtue was with a bride rewarded.

XII

But now our minds are mystified And Virtue acts as a narcotic, Vice in romance is glorified And triumphs in career erotic.

The monsters of the British Muse Deprive our schoolgirls of repose, The idols of their adoration A Vampire fond of meditation, Or Melmoth, gloomy wanderer he, The Eternal Jew or the Corsair Or the mysterious Sbogar.(33) Byron's capricious phantasy Could in romantic mantle drape E'en hopeless egoism's dark shape.

[Note 33: "Melmoth," a romance by Maturin, and "Jean Sbogar," by Ch. Nodier. "The Vampire," a tale published in 1819, was erroneously attributed to Lord Byron. "Salathiel; the Eternal Jew," a romance by Geo. Croly.]

XIII

My friends, what means this odd digression?

May be that I by heaven's decrees Shall abdicate the bard's profession, And shall adopt some new caprice.

Thus having braved Apollo's rage With humble prose I'll fill my page And a romance in ancient style Shall my declining years beguile; Nor shall my pen paint terribly The torment born of crime unseen, But shall depict the touching scene Of Russian domesticity; I will descant on love's sweet dream, The olden time shall be my theme.

XIV

Old people's simple conversations My unpretending page shall fill, Their offspring's innocent flirtations By the old lime-tree or the rill, Their Jealousy and separation And tears of reconciliation: Fresh cause of quarrel then I'll find, But finally in wedlock bind.

The pa.s.sionate speeches I'll repeat, Accents of rapture or despair I uttered to my lady fair Long ago, prostrate at her feet.

Then they came easily enow, My tongue is somewhat rusty now.

XV

Tattiana! sweet Tattiana, see!

What bitter tears with thee I shed!

Thou hast resigned thy destiny Unto a ruthless tyrant dread.

Thou'lt suffer, dearest, but before, Hope with her fascinating power To dire contentment shall give birth And thou shalt taste the joys of earth.

Thou'lt quaff love's sweet envenomed stream, Fantastic images shall swarm In thy imagination warm, Of happy meetings thou shalt dream, And wheresoe'er thy footsteps err, Confront thy fated torturer!

XVI

Love's pangs Tattiana agonize.

She seeks the garden in her need-- Sudden she stops, casts down her eyes And cares not farther to proceed; Her bosom heaves whilst crimson hues With sudden flush her cheeks suffuse, Barely to draw her breath she seems, Her eye with fire unwonted gleams.

And now 'tis night, the guardian moon Sails her allotted course on high, And from the misty woodland nigh The nightingale trills forth her tune; Restless Tattiana sleepless lay And thus unto her nurse did say:

XVII

"Nurse, 'tis so close I cannot rest.

Open the window--sit by me."

"What ails thee, dear?"--"I feel depressed.

Relate some ancient history."

"But which, my dear?--In days of yore Within my memory I bore Many an ancient legend which In monsters and fair dames was rich; But now my mind is desolate, What once I knew is clean forgot-- Alas! how wretched now my lot!"

"But tell me, nurse, can you relate The days which to your youth belong?

Were you in love when you were young?"--

XVIII

"Alack! Tattiana," she replied, "We never loved in days of old, My mother-in-law who lately died(34) Had killed me had the like been told."

"How came you then to wed a man?"-- "Why, as G.o.d ordered! My Ivan Was younger than myself, my light, For I myself was thirteen quite;(35) The matchmaker a fortnight sped, Her suit before my parents pressing: At last my father gave his blessing, And bitter tears of fright I shed.

Weeping they loosed my tresses long(36) And led me off to church with song."

[Note 34: A young married couple amongst Russian peasants reside in the house of the bridegroom's father till the "tiaglo," or family circle is broken up by his death.]

[Note 35: Marriages amongst Russian serfs used formerly to take place at ridiculously early ages. Haxthausen a.s.serts that strong hearty peasant women were to be seen at work in the fields with their infant husbands in their arms. The inducement lay in the fact that the "tiaglo" (see previous note) received an additional lot of the communal land for every male added to its number, though this could have formed an inducement in the southern and fertile provinces of Russia only, as it is believed that agriculture in the north is so unremunerative that land has often to be forced upon the peasants, in order that the taxes, for which the whole Commune is responsible to Government, may be paid. The abuse of early marriages was regulated by Tsar Nicholas.]

[Note 36: Courts.h.i.+ps were not unfrequently carried on in the larger villages, which alone could support such an individual, by means of a "svakha," or matchmaker. In Russia unmarried girls wear their hair in a single long plait or tail, "kossa;"

the married women, on the other hand, in two, which are twisted into the head-gear.]

XIX

"Then amongst strangers I was left-- But I perceive thou dost not heed--"

"Alas! dear nurse, my heart is cleft, Mortally sick I am indeed.

Behold, my sobs I scarce restrain--"

"My darling child, thou art in pain.-- The Lord deliver her and save!

Tell me at once what wilt thou have?

I'll sprinkle thee with holy water.-- How thy hands burn!"--"Dear nurse, I'm well.

I am--in love--you know--don't tell!"

"The Lord be with thee, O my daughter!"-- And the old nurse a brief prayer said And crossed with trembling hand the maid.

XX

"I am in love," her whispers tell The aged woman in her woe: "My heart's delight, thou art not well."-- "I am in love, nurse! leave me now."

Behold! the moon was s.h.i.+ning bright And showed with an uncertain light Tattiana's beauty, pale with care, Her tears and her dishevelled hair; And on the footstool sitting down Beside our youthful heroine fair, A kerchief round her silver hair The aged nurse in ample gown,(37) Whilst all creation seemed to dream Enchanted by the moon's pale beam.

[Note 37: It is thus that I am compelled to render a female garment not known, so far as I am aware, to Western Europe.

It is called by the natives "doushegreika," that is to say, "warmer of the soul"--in French, chaufferette de l'ame. It is a species of thick pelisse worn over the "sarafan," or gown.]

XXI

But borne in spirit far away Tattiana gazes on the moon, And starting suddenly doth say: "Nurse, leave me. I would be alone.

Pen, paper bring: the table too Draw near. I soon to sleep shall go-- Good-night." Behold! she is alone!

'Tis silent--on her s.h.i.+nes the moon-- Upon her elbow she reclines, And Eugene ever in her soul Indites an inconsiderate scroll Wherein love innocently pines.

Now it is ready to be sent-- For whom, Tattiana, is it meant?

XXII