"Slanderers of Russia" A. Pushkin

TO RUSSIA'S DESCLAIMERS

What are you fussing about, folk vitias?
Why are you threatening Russia with an anathema?
What angered you? unrest in Lithuania?
Leave: this is a dispute between the Slavs,
Domestic, old dispute, already weighed by fate,
A question that you can't answer.

For a long time with each other
These tribes are at enmity;
More than once bowed under a thunderstorm
Either their side or ours.
Who will stand in an unequal dispute:
Puffy Lyakh, or faithful Ross?
Will Slavic streams merge into the Russian sea?
Will it run out? here is the question.

Leave us: you haven't read
These bloody tablets;
You don't understand, you don't understand
This family feud;
The Kremlin and Prague are silent for you;
Mindlessly seduces you
Fight desperate courage -
And you hate us...

You are formidable in words - try it in practice!
Or the old hero, deceased on the bed,
Unable to screw up your Ishmael bayonet?
Or is the word already powerless for the Russian tsar?
Is it new for us to argue with Europe?
Has the Russian lost the habit of victories?
Are we few? Or from Perm to Taurida,
From Finnish cold rocks to fiery Colchis,
From the shocked Kremlin
To the walls of motionless China,
Shining with steel bristles,
The Russian land will not rise? ..
So send it to us, vitii,
His angry sons:
There is a place for them in the fields of Russia,
Among the coffins that are not alien to them.

BORODINO ANNIVERSARY

Great day of Borodin
We commemorate the fraternal feast,
They said: "The tribes went,
Trouble Russia threatening;
Wasn't all of Europe here?
And whose star led her! ..
But we have become the fifth solid
And breast took the pressure
Tribes obedient to the will of the proud,
And it was an unequal dispute.

So what? your disastrous escape
Boasting, they have forgotten now;
Forgot the Russian bayonet and snow,
Buried their glory in the wilderness.
A familiar feast beckons them again -
The blood of the Slavs is intoxicating for them;
But it will be hard for them to hangover;
But the guests' sleep will be long
On a cramped, cold housewarming party,
Under the grass of the northern fields!

Come to us: Russia is calling you!
But know, invited guests!
Poland will not lead you:
Bones will step through it!..."
It came true - and on the day of Borodin
Again our banners invaded
Into the breaches of Warsaw that has fallen again;
And Poland, like a running regiment,
Throws a bloody banner into the ashes -
And the crushed rebellion fell silent.

In the struggle, the fallen is unharmed;
We did not trample our enemies in the dust;
We will not remind them now
That the old tablets
Stored in the legends of the dumb;
We will not burn their Warsaw;
They are the people's nemesis
Do not see an angry face
And they will not hear the song of resentment
From the lyre of a Russian singer.

But you, troublemakers of the chambers,
light-tongued winds,
You, black disastrous alarm,
Slanderers, enemies of Russia!
What did you take?
Sick, relaxed colossus?
Is the northern glory still
An empty parable, a false dream?
Tell me: will Warsaw be soon?
Will the proud prescribe his law?

Where shall we move the system of strongholds?
Beyond the Bug, to the Vorskla, to the Liman?
Who will leave Volyn?
Who is the legacy of Bogdan?
Recognizing rebellious rights,
Will Lithuania be torn away from us?
Our Kyiv is decrepit, golden-domed,
This ancestor of Russian cities,
Is it akin to violent Warsaw
The shrine of all your coffins?

Your stormy noise and hoarse cry
Did they embarrass the Russian lord?
Tell me, who is the head of the wilted?
To whom is the crown: the sword or the cry?
Is Russia strong? War and pestilence
And rebellion, and external storms pressure
She, raging, shocked -
Look, everything is worth it!
And around her excitement fell -
And Poland's fate is sealed...

Victory! sweet hour to the heart!
Russia! rise and rise!
Thunder, the general voice of enthusiasm! ..
But hush, hush
Around the bed where he lies,
Mighty avenger of evil insults,
Who conquered the peaks of the Taurus,
Before whom Erivan humbled herself,
To whom the Suvorov Lavra
The wreath was woven with triple abuse.

Rise from your grave,
Suvorov sees the captivity of Warsaw;
His shadow trembled
From the brilliance of the glory he began!
He blesses the hero
Your suffering, your peace
Your companions courage,
And the news of your triumph
And with her flying beyond Prague
His young grandson.

He lived between us
Among a tribe alien to him; malice
In his soul he did not feed us, and we
He was loved. Peaceful, benevolent,
He attended our conversations. With him
We shared pure dreams
And songs (he was inspired from above
And looked down on life. Often
He spoke of times to come
When peoples, forgetting strife,
Join a great family.
We eagerly listened to the poet. He
Gone west - and a blessing
We carried it out. But now
Our peaceful guest has become our enemy - and poison
His own poems, for the sake of the violent mob,
He will drink. Away from us
The voice of the evil poet comes,
A familiar voice! .. my God! sanctify
In it is your heart with your truth and peace,
And give him back...
(1834)

Lermontov

Again, folk winds,
For the fallen cause of Lithuania
To the glory of proud Russia,
Again, noisy, you rebelled.
Already executed you with a mighty word
The poet who has risen in new splendor
From prolonged sleep
And censure cover
He dressed your names.

2
What is it: is the call arrogant,
Is it a frantic call to battle?
Or the voice of embarrassed envy,
The impotence of an evil impulse? ..
Yes, cunning envy echidna
devours you; you are offended
The greatness of our dawn;
You can't see the sun of God
Behind the sun of the Russian tsar.

3
Long accustomed to crowns
And play with respect
You imagined with dirty hands
Crown shiny tarnish.
You don't understand, you don't understand
All that is high is noble;
Didn't you know that a formidable shield
Love and pride of the people
He will keep the crown from you.

4
Little lunatics, you are right.
We are alien to false shame!
..................................................

5
But the honor of Russia is unharmed.
And you, laughing, listens to the light ...
So in the warlike days of Rome,
In the days of solemn victories,
When Fabricius triumphed
And distributed throughout the capital
Delight grateful click,
Ran after the light chariot
One hired slanderer.

Adam Miscavige

TO RUSSIAN FRIENDS
Do you remember me? When about blood brothers,
Those whose destiny is graveyard, exile and prison,
I grieve - then in my secluded visions,
Your faces also stand in the family line.

Where are you? Ryleev, are you? You by judgment
Do not hug the neck, as before the pitch deadlines, -
She was taken with a shameful hemp. Woe
To the nations that kill their prophets!

Bestuzhev! You once extended your hand to me.
The king chained a brush to a wheelbarrow that was open
For sword and feather. And to her, to the palm of her brother,
The captive hand of the Pole is nailed down.

And who is more outraged? Which one of you is the bitterest
I comprehended from lots, punishing steadily
And the shame of orders, and the highest caress,
And with sweetness at the porch of the tsar to beat the bows?

Or maybe someone is the triumph of the cruelty of the monarchs
In servile zeal to glorify now strove?
Or tramples the Polish region, having washed with our blood,
And, as if with praise, he boasts of curses?

From the far side to the midnight world harsh
Let my voice be a harbinger of Sunday
Domchitsya and sounds. Let the ice sheets fall!
So the cranes' trumpets announce a spring feast.

When the bitterness of tears burned my homeland
And joined my speech - what could be more absurd
My silence? I'll scatter the whole cup:
Let the bile corrode - not you, but your chains.

And if one of you answers with abuse -
Well, once again I remember the servility of the terrible image:
The unfortunate dog wounds his hand with chain fangs,
Deciding to extract it from the vile booth.
(1832)
***

Alexander Blok

SCYTHIANS Millions - you. Us - darkness, and darkness, and darkness.
Try it, fight with us!
Yes, we are Scythians! Yes, we are Asians
With slanting and greedy eyes!

For you - centuries, for us - a single hour.
We, like obedient serfs,
Held a shield between two hostile races
Mongols and Europe!

For centuries, centuries, your old forge forged
And drowned out the thunder, avalanches,
And failure was a wild tale for you
And Lisbon and Messina!

You have looked to the East for hundreds of years
Saving and melting our pearls,
And you, mocking, considered only the term,
When to point the cannons!

Here is the time. Trouble beats with wings
And every day resentment multiplies,
And the day will come - there will be no trace
From your Paestums, perhaps!

Oh old world! Until you die
While you languish in sweet flour,
Stop, wise one like Oedipus,
Before the Sphinx with an ancient riddle!

Russia - Sphinx. Rejoicing and mourning
And covered in black blood
She looks, looks, looks at you
With hate and with love...

Yes, love like our blood loves,
None of you love!
Have you forgotten that there is love in the world,
Which burns and destroys!

We love everything - and the heat of cold numbers,
And the gift of divine visions
Everything is clear to us - and the sharp Gallic meaning,
And the gloomy German genius...

We remember everything - Parisian streets hell,
And the Venetian coolness,
Lemon groves distant aroma,
And the smoky masses of Cologne...

We love the flesh - and its taste, and color,
And stuffy, mortal flesh smell...
Are we guilty if your skeleton crunches
In our heavy, tender paws?

We are used to grabbing by the bridle
Zealous horses playing
Break horses heavy sacrum,
And to pacify the obstinate slaves...

Come visit us! From the horrors of war
Come to peaceful embrace!
Before it's too late - the old sword in the scabbard,
Comrades! We will become brothers!

And if not, we have nothing to lose,
And treachery is available to us!
Ages, centuries will curse you
Sick late offspring!

We are wide through the wilds and forests
Pretty before Europe
Let's part! We will turn to you
With your Asian face!

Go everyone, go to the Urals!
We clear the battlefield
Steel machines, where the integral breathes,
With the Mongolian wild horde!

But we ourselves are no longer a shield for you,
From now on, we will not enter the battle ourselves,
We will see how the mortal battle is in full swing,
With your narrow eyes.

Let's not move when the ferocious Hun
In the pockets of corpses will fumble,
Burn the city, and drive the herd to the church,
And fry the meat of the white brothers!...

For the last time - come to your senses, old world!
To the fraternal feast of labor and peace,
For the last time to a bright fraternal feast
Calling the barbarian lyre! ***

Translation from French.

Thank you for the brochure you sent me. I re-read it with pleasure, although I was very surprised that it had been translated and printed. I am pleased with the translation: it retains the energy and ease of the original. As for thoughts, you know that I do not agree with you on everything. There is no doubt that the schism (separation of the churches) separated us from the rest of Europe and that we did not take part in any of the great events that shook it, but we had our own special destiny. This is Russia, it is her vast expanses that swallowed up the Mongol invasion. The Tatars did not dare to cross our western borders and leave us in the rear. They retreated to their deserts, and Christian civilization was saved. In order to achieve this goal, we had to lead a very special existence, which, leaving us Christians, made us, however, completely alien to the Christian world, so that through our martyrdom the vigorous development of Catholic Europe was spared all obstacles. You say that the source from which we drew Christianity was unclean, that Byzantium was worthy of contempt and despised, etc. Oh, my friend, was not Jesus Christ himself born a Jew, and was not Jerusalem the talk of the town? Is the gospel less marvellous for that? From the Greeks we took the gospel and traditions, but not the spirit of childish pettiness and verbiage. The morals of Byzantium were never the morals of Kyiv. Our clergy, before Theophanes, were worthy of respect, they never sullied themselves with the baseness of papism and, of course, would never have caused reformation at a time when humanity most of all needed unity. I agree that our current clergy has lagged behind. Do you want to know the reason? It wears a beard, that's all. It does not belong to good society. As for our historical insignificance, I absolutely cannot agree with you. The wars of Oleg and Svyatoslav and even specific strife - isn't this the kind of life full of seething ferment and ardent and aimless activity that distinguishes the youth of all peoples? The Tatar invasion is a sad and great sight. The awakening of Russia, the development of its power, its movement towards unity (toward Russian unity, of course), both Ivans, the majestic drama that began in Uglich and ended in the Ipatiev Monastery - how, is all this really not history, but only a pale and half-forgotten dream? And Peter the Great, who alone is the whole story! And what about Catherine II, who placed Russia on the threshold of Europe? And Alexander, who brought you to Paris? and (hand on heart) don't you find something significant in the present state of Russia, something that will amaze the future historian? Do you think it will put us outside of Europe? Although personally I am cordially attached to the sovereign, I am far from delighted with everything that I see around me; as a writer, I am annoyed; as a person with prejudice, I am offended; but I swear on my honor that for nothing in the world I would want to change my fatherland or have a different history than the history of our ancestors, such as God gave it to us.

A long letter came out. After arguing with you, I must tell you that much in your message is profoundly true. Indeed, it must be confessed that our social life is a sad thing. That this lack of public opinion, this indifference to everything that is duty, justice and truth, this cynical contempt for human thought and dignity - can truly lead to despair. You did well to say it out loud. But I'm afraid that your religious historical views might harm you... Finally, I'm annoyed that I was not near you when you handed over your manuscript to journalists. I don't go anywhere and can't tell you if the article makes an impression. Hope it doesn't get blown up. Have you read the 3rd? "Contemporary"? The article "Voltaire" and "John Tenner" are mine, Kozlovsky would become my providence if he wanted to become a writer once and for all. Farewell my friend. If you see Orlov and Raevsky, give them a bow. What do they say about your letter, they mediocre Christians?

What are you fussing about, folk vitias? Why are you threatening Russia with an anathema? What angered you? unrest in Lithuania? Leave it: this is a dispute among the Slavs, A homely, old dispute, already weighed by fate, A question that you will not resolve. For a long time these tribes have been at enmity with each other; More than once bowed under a thunderstorm That theirs, then our side. Who can resist in an unequal dispute: Puffy Lyakh, or faithful Ross? Will Slavic streams merge into the Russian sea? Will it run out? here is the question. Leave us: you have not read These bloody tablets; You do not understand, this family feud is alien to you; The Kremlin and Prague are silent for you; You are foolishly seduced by the struggle of desperate courage - And you hate us ... For what? Respond: for whether, What on the ruins of burning Moscow We did not recognize the impudent will of the One under whom you trembled? Is it because We have thrown into the abyss the idol gravitating over the kingdoms And with our blood have redeemed Europe's freedom, honor and peace?.. You are formidable in words - try it in deeds! Or the old hero, deceased on the bed, Unable to screw up his Ishmael bayonet? Or is the word already powerless for the Russian tsar? Is it new for us to argue with Europe? Has the Russian lost the habit of victories? Are we few? Or from Perm to Taurida, From the Finnish cold rocks to fiery Colchis, From the shocked Kremlin To the walls of motionless China, Sparkling with steel bristles, The Russian land will not rise? Russia, Among the coffins that are not alien to them. Go to page .

Notes

* To the slanderers of Russia(p. 339). The poems are addressed to the deputies of the French chamber and to French journalists, who defiantly expressed sympathy for the Polish uprising and called for armed intervention in Russian-Polish hostilities. "Angry Europe is attacking Russia for the time being not with weapons, but with daily, frenzied slander. - Constitutional governments want peace, and the young generations, excited by magazines, demand war" (draft text of a letter to Benckendorff, written about July 21, 1831 - original in French, see Academic ed., Collected Works of Pushkin, vol. XIV, p. 183). (Compare the letter dated November 10, 1836 to N. B. Golitsyn - v. 10.) The autograph of the poem contained an epigraph: "Vox et praetera nihil" [Sound and nothing else (lat.).]. Folk winds- members of the French Chamber of Deputies - Lafayette, Maugin, etc. Leave it: this is a dispute between the Slavs ... cf. letter to Vyazemsky dated June 1, 1831 (vol. 9). These bloody tablets- the centuries-old struggle of the Ukrainian Cossacks and the peasantry with the gentry Poland, as well as the Polish intervention of 1610-1611, when the Polish troops were in Moscow and the Kremlin was on fire. Prague- an ancient Warsaw suburb on the right bank of the Vistula - is associated with the events of 1794, when Warsaw was taken by Suvorov. ...on the ruins of burning Moscow// We did not recognize the impudent will // Of the one under whom you trembled - that is, Napoleon. Izmail bayonet- a hint at the capture of the Turkish fortress Izmail by the troops of Suvorov in 1790. Go to page

Leave us: you haven't read
These bloody tablets;
You don't understand, you don't understand
This family feud;
The Kremlin and Prague are silent for you;
Mindlessly seduces you
The struggle of desperate courage -
And you hate us...

Analysis of the poem "Slanderers of Russia" by Alexander Pushkin

Pushkin's freedom-loving position and his, to put it mildly, unenviable status among Russian high society are well known. A dangerous freethinker throughout his conscious life was on suspicion of the royal authorities. In this regard, of particular interest is the poem "To the Slanderers of Russia" (1831), written by Pushkin in connection with the Polish uprising of 1830. It is characteristic that this work provoked criticism among the liberal nobility.

It is difficult to suspect the great poet of trying to please the Russian emperor. There is no doubt that the work "Slanderers of Russia" was written by him under the influence of a sincere feeling of indignation. It is addressed to the French publicists who launched an active campaign in support of the Polish uprising and sharply condemned the military intervention of Russia.

First of all, Pushkin considers foreign interference completely unacceptable. He views Russian-Polish relations as a purely "homemade, old dispute" between two Slavic peoples. Turning to history, the poet points out that military clashes between Russians and Poles are rooted in ancient times. Pushkin in no way recognizes Russia's unconditional right to rule. Over the centuries, military successes alternately passed from one people to another. Mentioning the Kremlin and Prague, the poet directly refers his opponents to the Polish intervention of 1610-1612. and to the capture by Suvorov in 1794 of the suburbs of Warsaw.

Pushkin suggests that the anger of the French stems from the defeat of Napoleon. The great commander, who terrified the whole of Europe, fled Russia in disgrace, leaving the remnants of his army to the mercy of fate. The poet is sure that only thanks to backward (!) Russia, European countries threw off the yoke of tyranny and regained "liberty, honor and peace."

In the face of foreign accusations, Pushkin is even ready to support his emperor (“Is the word of the Russian tsar already powerless?”) in defending Russian interests. Despite the negative attitude towards the tsarist absolute power, the poet is always confident in the readiness of the Russian people to stand up for their Fatherland. History is rich in examples of attempts to conquer Russia, invariably ending in the triumph of Russian weapons. Especially menacing is the last warning of the author that any aggressor will always find a "place ... in the fields of Russia."

"Slanderers of Russia" Alexander Pushkin

What are you fussing about, folk vitias?
Why are you threatening Russia with an anathema?
What angered you? unrest in Lithuania?
Leave: this is a dispute between the Slavs,
Domestic, old dispute, already weighed by fate,
A question that you can't answer.

For a long time with each other
These tribes are at enmity;
More than once bowed under a thunderstorm
Either their side or ours.
Who will stand in an unequal dispute:
Puffy Lyakh, or faithful Ross?
Will Slavic streams merge into the Russian sea?
Will it run out? here is the question.

Leave us: you haven't read
These bloody tablets;
You don't understand, you don't understand
This family feud;
The Kremlin and Prague are silent for you;
Mindlessly seduces you
The struggle of desperate courage -
And you hate us...

For what? answer: whether
What's on the ruins of burning Moscow
We did not recognize impudent will
The one under whom you trembled?
For being thrown into the abyss
We are the idol gravitating over the kingdoms
And redeemed with our blood
European liberty, honor and peace?..
You are formidable in words - try it in practice!
Or the old hero, deceased on the bed,
Unable to screw up your Ishmael bayonet?
Or is the word already powerless for the Russian tsar?
Is it new for us to argue with Europe?
Has the Russian lost the habit of victories?
Are we few? Or from Perm to Taurida,
From Finnish cold rocks to fiery Colchis,
From the shocked Kremlin
To the walls of motionless China,
Shining with steel bristles,
The Russian land will not rise? ..
So send us, vitii,
His angry sons:
There is a place for them in the fields of Russia,
Among the coffins that are not alien to them.

Analysis of Pushkin's poem "To the Slanderers of Russia"

The events of 1830, connected with the uprising in Poland, stirred up not only Europe, but also Russia. In the 19th century, the territorial redistribution was especially acute, and the Russian government intervened in the brewing conflict. This fact, of course, caused condemnation among Europeans and was reflected in the work of many poets, one of which was Alexander Pushkin.

Outraged by unfounded criticism, in 1831 he published an ode to "Slanderers of Russia", in which he expressed his attitude not only to the Polish uprising, but also to the West's reaction to the attempts of the Slavic peoples to find a common language. Addressing those who tried to accuse Russia of expansion, Pushkin notes: "Leave it alone: this is a dispute between the Slavs." Being not only a patriot of his country, but also knowing history well, the poet rightly believes that Russia and Poland should unite. Indeed, at one time there was the Grand Duchy of Lithuania, which included both Russian and Polish lands. And this state was so powerful that it inspired fear throughout Europe.

Naturally, neither Germany, nor France, nor, moreover, England, did not want to again be on the sidelines, so even a hint of the unification of Poland and Russia caused panic among the politicians of these countries. However, the poet advises the Europeans not to interfere, stating: "These tribes have been at enmity with each other for a long time." In whose favor the new dispute will be resolved, the author does not undertake to judge. But he is well aware that the power of Russia and its possible advance to the West are forcing a well-fed and prosperous Europe to erect mountains of lies against a country that recently dealt with Napoleon's army and brought long-awaited freedom to many states. “You are thunderstorms in words - try it in practice!”, the poet teases his opponents, knowing that European politicians will have many adherents in Russia itself. Pushkin does not want a new war, but does not rule out that if Europe tries to defend its interests on the territory of Poland, Russian soldiers will defend their Slavic brothers "from the shocked Kremlin to the walls of motionless China, sparkling with steel bristles." This battle will be fair and merciless, because Russia is no stranger to war. At the same time, the poet is convinced that the inevitable defeat awaits European soldiers, declaring: “There is a place for them in the fields of Russia among coffins that are not alien to them.”

If you read the poem "Slanderers of Russia" by Pushkin Alexander Sergeevich, you can learn about the relationship between Russia and Europe in the past. The year 1831 was marked by the Russian-Polish war, where some deputies of France called for intervening on the side of Poland. Such a call greatly outraged the poet, who did not understand such an act.

The text of Pushkin's poem "To the Slanderers of Russia" is a direct appeal to the chosen ones of the people of France, who, in his opinion, hate Russia and its people because they did not submit to Napoleon. It is written in the work: “We did not recognize the impudent will of the One under whom you were trembling?” In verse, he praises the courage and unbending spirit of the patriots of their country, who will always stand up for the defense of the Motherland. Russian literature will not be complete without this verse, which has become an ode to patriotism, confidence in the strength and courage of the Russian people. Pupils only in the 10th grade get acquainted with this work of the poet, because smaller children will not yet be able to fully understand this patriotic message of Pushkin to the world. This is a lesson for all Russians how to love their country and believe in their people. Learning a piece is quite simple, it is also possible to download it and listen to it online.

For what? answer: whether
What's on the ruins of burning Moscow
We did not recognize impudent will
The one under whom you trembled?
For being thrown into the abyss
We are the idol gravitating over the kingdoms
And redeemed with our blood
European liberty, honor and peace?..
You are formidable in words - try it in practice!
Or the old hero, deceased on the bed,
Unable to screw up your Ishmael bayonet?
Or is the word already powerless for the Russian tsar?
Is it new for us to argue with Europe?
Has the Russian lost the habit of victories?
Are we few? Or from Perm to Taurida,
From Finnish cold rocks to fiery Colchis,
From the shocked Kremlin
To the walls of motionless China,
Shining with steel bristles,
The Russian land will not rise? ..
So send us, vitii,
His angry sons:
There is a place for them in the fields of Russia,
Among the coffins that are not alien to them.