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Nikolaj Alexeyevich Nekrasov (1821 - 1878)

Никола́й Алексе́евич Некра́сов

Peasant Poetry

Russian Realism (~ 1840 - 1880)

Nikolay A. Nekrasov

Princess Maria Volkonskaya

(1805 - 1863)

"natural school"

"pure poetry"

followed her husband to Siberia in 1827

her memoir was an important source of information for Nekrasov

"O bitterly, bitterly I wept

When that morning I stood

On the bank of my native river

And first did call it

The river of slavery and sorrow!"

"a poet of vengeance and grief"

one of the first writers of Russian realism

important publisher (Sovremennik - "The Contemporary")

themes:

- life of the Russian peasant

- human suffering

the poet's role is "to be first of all a teacher, and as far as possible, a representative for the humble and voiceless" (Nekrasov)

• greatly influenced by Nekrasov

• realistic style, descriptions of "true" contemporary Russia

• political and social problems, e.g. serfdom, repression and

suffering of peasants

• Кому на Руси жить хорошо? ("Who lives happy in Russia?", 1863-1876)

• tradition of Pushkin

• art for art's sake, no political

or social intentions

• descriptions of nature and

beauty rather than life's

reality

Princess Ekaterina Trubetskaya

(1800 - 1853)

"epic" long poem, four parts; unfinished

yet one of Nekrasov's best and most popular poems

• style: elements of Russian folklore and tales, e.g. metre (dactyls), vulgar speech and expressions

followed her husband into Siberian exile in 1826

died there 1853

1870

1840

† 1878

* 1821

Biography

Literary Works

Decembrist poetry:

"Русские женщины" (Russian Women)

• Peasant Poetry

e.g. - "Reflections at the Grand Entrance" (1858)

- "Peasant Children" (1861)

- "The Peddlers" (1861)

- "Red-Nose Frost" (1863)

- "Who lives happy in Russia?" (1863-1876)

• father a retired army major and land owner

mother a well-educated, sensitive noblewoman

• grew up on the family estate, witnessed his father's

brutality against peasants and his own family

• 1838 - supposed to enter military service in St. Petersburg

instead study for the university

-> break with his father

• 1838-41 - lived in poverty in the depths of St. Petersburg

• 1840/41 - began to earn money working for newspapers

• long poem, published in two parts:

Part I - "Princess Trubetskaya" (1872)

Part II - "Princess M. N. Volkonskaya" (1873)

• tells about the fate of two Decembrist wives, who followed their husbands to exile in Siberia

• first legally published account of the Decembrist revolt on the 26th (or 14th) of December 1825.

И я подбежала… И душу мою

Наполнило чувство святое.

Я только теперь, в руднике роковом,

Услышав ужасные звуки,

Увидев оковы на муже моем,

Вполне поняла его муки.

Он много страдал, и умел он страдать!…

Невольно пред ним я склонила

Колени – и, прежде чем мужа обнять,

Оковы к губам приложила!…

И тихого ангела бог ниспослал

В подземные копи – в мгновенье

И говор, и грохот работ замолчал,

И замерло словно движенье.

I hastened towards him, my soul as I went

Was stirred by the holiest feeling.

And now, only now in this underground Hell

Where deafening clamor persisted,

And seeing his chains did I visage full well

The torments in which he existed,

His strength and his patience, enduring these pains / In which his destroyers had placed him,

I fell on my knees to him. Lifting his chains

I kissed them before I embraced him.

Then God sent the angel of peace underground,

And, as in our midst he came flying,

The voices he silenced, the work’s mighty sound,

All action, as though it were dying.

• Women in his Poetry

e.g. - "On the Road" (1845)

- "Mother" (1868)

- "Russian Women" (1871-72)

Vasily Timm

"I want to say thank you, Russian people! On the road, in exile, wherever I have been during this difficult time of exile, – people! With you, I have carried my back-breaking burden more vigorously. Many sorrows may have fallen to your lot; you share the sadness of others. Wherever my tears are about to drop, your tears have already fallen long ago!"

В день смерти Гоголя

(Блажен незлобливый поэт...)

Блажен незлобливый поэт,

В ком мало желчи, много чувства:

Ему так искренен привет

Друзей спокойного искусства;

Ему сочувствие в толпе,

Как ропот волн, ласкает ухо;

Он чужд сомнения в себе -

Сей пытки творческого духа;

Любя беспечность и покой,

Гнушаясь дерзкою сатирой,

Он прочно властвует толпой

С своей миролюбивой лирой.

Дивясь великому уму,

Его не гонят, не злословят,

И современники ему

При жизни памятник готовят...

Но нет пощады у судьбы

Тому, чей благородный гений

Стал обличителем толпы,

Ее страстей и заблуждений.

Питая ненавистью грудь,

Уста вооружив сатирой,

Проходит он тернистый путь

С своей карающею лирой.

Его преследуют хулы:

Он ловит звуки одобренья

Не в сладком ропоте хвалы,

А в диких криках озлобленья.

И веря и не веря вновь

Мечте высокого призванья,

Он проповедует любовь

Враждебным словом отрицанья,-

И каждый звук его речей

Плодит ему врагов суровых,

И умных и пустых людей,

Равно клеймить его готовых.

Со всех сторон его клянут

И, только труп его увидя,

Как много сделал он, поймут,

И как любил он - ненавидя!

On the Day of Gogol's Death

(How blessed's the good-natured poet...)

How blessed's the good-natured poet,

With little bile and much emotion:

All lovers of the gentle arts

Send him sincerest greetings;

The admiration of the crowd

Sounds in his ear like rippling waves;

He is a stranger to self-doubt-

That torture of creative souls;

Lover of comfort and tranquility,

Shunning audacious satire,

He firmly dominates the crowd

With his peace-loving lyre.

He is not cursed nor driven out

But worshipped for his splendid mind,

While all his countrymen prepare

A monument to him in life.

But fate will show no mercy

To one whose noble genius

Has led him to unmask the crowd,

Expose its passions and mistakes.

His heart abrim with hate

His lips all clad in satire,

He wanders down a thorny path

His wrathful lyre in hand.

He is reviled at every step:

He catches sounds of admiration

Not in sweet murmurings of praise

But in wild cries of enmity.

With disbelief and new belief

In his high calling's dream,

He preaches love to all

Through venomous denial.

His speech's every syllable

Engenders for him cruel foes,

And all men, whether smart or dull,

Are quick to vilify him.

They curse at him from every side,

And only when they see his corpse

They'll understand how much he did,

And that in hate, he was yet full of love!

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