_Jacob
Borissovitch
Kniajnine_ (1742-91), a clever adapter of
French tragedy.
French tragedy.
Pushkin - Eugene Oneigin
]
[Note 9: Paul Petrovitch Kaverine, a friend for whom Pushkin in
his youth appears to have entertained great respect and
admiration. He was an officer in the Hussars of the Guard, and
a noted "dandy" and man about town. The poet on one occasion
addressed the following impromptu to his friend's portrait:
"Within him daily see the the fires of punch and war,
Upon the fields of Mars a gallant warrior,
A faithful friend to friends, of ladies torturer,
But ever the Hussar. "]
XIV
Still thirst fresh draughts of wine compels
To cool the cutlets' seething grease,
When the sonorous Breguet tells
Of the commencement of the piece.
A critic of the stage malicious,
A slave of actresses capricious,
Oneguine was a citizen
Of the domains of the side-scene.
To the theatre he repairs
Where each young critic ready stands,
Capers applauds with clap of hands,
With hisses Cleopatra scares,
Moina recalls for this alone
That all may hear his voice's tone.
XV
Thou fairy-land! Where formerly
Shone pungent Satire's dauntless king,
Von Wisine, friend of liberty,
And Kniajnine, apt at copying.
The young Simeonova too there
With Ozeroff was wont to share
Applause, the people's donative.
There our Katenine did revive
Corneille's majestic genius,
Sarcastic Shakhovskoi brought out
His comedies, a noisy rout,
There Didelot became glorious,
There, there, beneath the side-scene's shade
The drama of my youth was played. (10)
[Note 10: _Denis Von Wisine_ (1741-92), a favourite Russian
dramatist. His first comedy "The Brigadier," procured him the
favour of the second Catherine. His best, however, is the
"Minor" (Niedorosl). Prince Potemkin, after witnessing it,
summoned the author, and greeted him with the exclamation,
"Die now, Denis! " In fact, his subsequent performances were
not of equal merit.
_Jacob Borissovitch Kniajnine_ (1742-91), a clever adapter of
French tragedy.
_Simeonova_, a celebrated tragic actress, who retired from
the stage in early life and married a Prince Gagarine.
_Ozeroff_, one of the best-known Russian dramatists of the
period; he possessed more originality than Kniajnine. "Oedipus
in Athens," "Fingal," "Demetrius Donskoi," and "Polyxena," are
the best known of his tragedies.
_Katenine_ translated Corneille's tragedies into Russian.
_Didelot_, sometime Director of the ballet at the Opera at
St. Petersburg. ]
XVI
My goddesses, where are your shades?
Do ye not hear my mournful sighs?
Are ye replaced by other maids
Who cannot conjure former joys?
Shall I your chorus hear anew,
Russia's Terpsichore review
Again in her ethereal dance?
Or will my melancholy glance
On the dull stage find all things changed,
The disenchanted glass direct
Where I can no more recollect? --
A careless looker-on estranged
In silence shall I sit and yawn
And dream of life's delightful dawn?
XVII
The house is crammed. A thousand lamps
On pit, stalls, boxes, brightly blaze,
Impatiently the gallery stamps,
The curtain now they slowly raise.
Obedient to the magic strings,
Brilliant, ethereal, there springs
Forth from the crowd of nymphs surrounding
Istomina(*) the nimbly-bounding;
With one foot resting on its tip
Slow circling round its fellow swings
And now she skips and now she springs
Like down from Aeolus's lip,
Now her lithe form she arches o'er
And beats with rapid foot the floor.
[Note 9: Paul Petrovitch Kaverine, a friend for whom Pushkin in
his youth appears to have entertained great respect and
admiration. He was an officer in the Hussars of the Guard, and
a noted "dandy" and man about town. The poet on one occasion
addressed the following impromptu to his friend's portrait:
"Within him daily see the the fires of punch and war,
Upon the fields of Mars a gallant warrior,
A faithful friend to friends, of ladies torturer,
But ever the Hussar. "]
XIV
Still thirst fresh draughts of wine compels
To cool the cutlets' seething grease,
When the sonorous Breguet tells
Of the commencement of the piece.
A critic of the stage malicious,
A slave of actresses capricious,
Oneguine was a citizen
Of the domains of the side-scene.
To the theatre he repairs
Where each young critic ready stands,
Capers applauds with clap of hands,
With hisses Cleopatra scares,
Moina recalls for this alone
That all may hear his voice's tone.
XV
Thou fairy-land! Where formerly
Shone pungent Satire's dauntless king,
Von Wisine, friend of liberty,
And Kniajnine, apt at copying.
The young Simeonova too there
With Ozeroff was wont to share
Applause, the people's donative.
There our Katenine did revive
Corneille's majestic genius,
Sarcastic Shakhovskoi brought out
His comedies, a noisy rout,
There Didelot became glorious,
There, there, beneath the side-scene's shade
The drama of my youth was played. (10)
[Note 10: _Denis Von Wisine_ (1741-92), a favourite Russian
dramatist. His first comedy "The Brigadier," procured him the
favour of the second Catherine. His best, however, is the
"Minor" (Niedorosl). Prince Potemkin, after witnessing it,
summoned the author, and greeted him with the exclamation,
"Die now, Denis! " In fact, his subsequent performances were
not of equal merit.
_Jacob Borissovitch Kniajnine_ (1742-91), a clever adapter of
French tragedy.
_Simeonova_, a celebrated tragic actress, who retired from
the stage in early life and married a Prince Gagarine.
_Ozeroff_, one of the best-known Russian dramatists of the
period; he possessed more originality than Kniajnine. "Oedipus
in Athens," "Fingal," "Demetrius Donskoi," and "Polyxena," are
the best known of his tragedies.
_Katenine_ translated Corneille's tragedies into Russian.
_Didelot_, sometime Director of the ballet at the Opera at
St. Petersburg. ]
XVI
My goddesses, where are your shades?
Do ye not hear my mournful sighs?
Are ye replaced by other maids
Who cannot conjure former joys?
Shall I your chorus hear anew,
Russia's Terpsichore review
Again in her ethereal dance?
Or will my melancholy glance
On the dull stage find all things changed,
The disenchanted glass direct
Where I can no more recollect? --
A careless looker-on estranged
In silence shall I sit and yawn
And dream of life's delightful dawn?
XVII
The house is crammed. A thousand lamps
On pit, stalls, boxes, brightly blaze,
Impatiently the gallery stamps,
The curtain now they slowly raise.
Obedient to the magic strings,
Brilliant, ethereal, there springs
Forth from the crowd of nymphs surrounding
Istomina(*) the nimbly-bounding;
With one foot resting on its tip
Slow circling round its fellow swings
And now she skips and now she springs
Like down from Aeolus's lip,
Now her lithe form she arches o'er
And beats with rapid foot the floor.
