RUSSIAN SONGS AND LYRICS. By John Pollen, C.I.E., LL.D. (East and West, Ltd.) 3s. 6d. net.

No doubt the great men of the day are not those of the century. But to play a good part, even for a short time, should be the aim of everybody.

May I relate something that I am not likely to forget soon? I heard, some years ago, about a Right Honourable gentleman who, at the age of eighty-two, suddenly showed such a keen interest about Russian poetry and other Russian literature, that he actually began learning Russian himself. He decided to do it very thoroughly, securing huge dictionaries and various grammars. And true enough, I found him surrounded with all these philological guides, and our great Pushkin’s poem, “To our Enemies,” before him. I could not help congratulating him on his love for studies—fortunately I did not add what crossed my mind: at such an antique age! He seemed, however, to guess a little portion of my thoughts.

“Well,” said he, “I do not see why people, the moment they become Right Honourables or have some grey hairs or are bent, should give up reading books or trying to understand the real nature of foreign countries.”

“Oh!” said I, “as a rule, people give up studying and reading long before they become Right Honourables. To some people, many things have more attractions than a book after they have left their Universities.”

“I am trying to understand,” he said, “what your Pushkin meant by:

“‘Will the Slav streams unite in the Russian Sea,

   Or will their waters run dry?’

That is the question!”

“But that is simply the doctrine of the Slavophil party,” said I. “Russia, according to us, must feel her moral link with all the Slavs, and care for them not in words but in deeds, never forgetting their interests and their helplessness. That is all. The problem will be easily understood by all who know the Russian language, Russian history, and Russian poetry.”

Had this conversation taken place now, I could have helped the old gentleman in recommending him excellent Russian translations by Mr. Stephen Graham, Mr. Brayley Hodgetts, and others. But I consider every translation, even the very best, a great concession to the difficult study of languages.

“I like the sight of your grammars, big dictionaries, and Pushkin,” said I, “which you were evidently studying—but my feelings in that respect have not an imperative character, and since I have to choose between translation and ignorance, I emphatically say: ‘Study translations.’”

Amongst these, I should like to recommend some from Russian poets by Dr. Pollen, just published by East and West, Ltd. I confess I am rather partial for this book. Till now, I obstinately preached to everybody: “Learn Russian, and read our best literature, represented by our greatest writers, in its original.” As a rule, I am a little like the fox with the green grapes, and inclined to calumniating every translation, simply because it is so superior to anything I could do myself. You write an article. Well, why not write an article? Everybody is supposed to have some impressions and even ideas. To put them together is quite simple. In our Novo Alexandrovka schools, boys and young girls write sometimes articles so fresh, original, and interesting, that every newspaper editor might accept them, not only “with compliments,” but with sincere gratitude.

But oh! To make a translation! That I would not entrust to them! And, indeed, how on earth could I ever do it myself? It has been well said: “Traductore—traditore” (i.e,. a bad translator). And can anything be worse than a traitor? Perhaps only those who induce others to become so. But this would carry us straight to Berlin, which is too far!

Now, Dr. Pollen’s book has my sympathies, and I wish I could add my support, as the profits from the sales are generously offered to the fund for poor Russian prisoners, whose condition, according to Countess Benckendorff’s reports, is obviously becoming more and more deplorable. All the help sent directly to them from Russia seems to be lost, and Countess Benckendorff’s committee is the best medium of help from London. Every half-crown prolongs the life of a poor starving prisoner for several days. Is all this not worthy of serious consideration? Thus, in supporting the sale of a very charming collection of Russian poetry, people are actually combining pleasure with utility. A detail ought to be added. The majority of Russian prisoners is composed of wounded invalids. English people who know this fact, and are trying to come to the rescue, probably care very little for our gratitude. They know that the Russians, as allies, are fighting now not only for the defence of their country, but also for our united glorious victory and duty. To serve that cause is even pleasant when you have to contribute to it in reading Dr. Pollen’s charming Russian poetry. His book brings you in contact with the best representatives of our literature, and names of such poets as Chomiakoff, Tutscheff, and Count Alexis Tolstoi, very little known in England, have no doubt had a great influence on Russia’s moral development. We must be grateful to Dr. Pollen for having shown his tact and sympathy in introducing them to English readers.

When Dr. Pollen publishes his second edition, which I hope will be very soon, he would do well to make two or three slight alterations. Thus, our charming wit and poet, Theodore Tutcheff, whom I knew very well, always wrote his family name as I have just done. Some of his poems are really first-rate, such as “Silencium” and many others. Some of them are political, pro-Slav, and should be introduced in Dr. Pollen’s book.

In reproducing Count Tolstoi’s verses, I should have advised giving his entire name: Count Alexis Tolstoi. There are many Tolstois, Counts and not Counts. I am afraid in England Count Leon Tolstoi, the great novelist, is the only one really popular. But Count Alexis Tolstoi belongs to those refined minds and talents who are more and more appreciated after their death.

Then again, Lomonossoff ought to be written just as it is pronounced. I have not known him personally, as he died in 1765, a little before my time!

Now that people undoubtedly take genuine interest in Russian literature—a friend of mine was discussing with me quite lately the urgent necessity of establishing in London a Russian Library—the difficulty to get Russian books, even in time of peace, is quite tremendous. In war time it is quite hopeless.

How unfortunate it was for me in the year 1891 that I never discovered an ally who could have helped our cause so well. Could anybody better than Dr. Pollen realize not only the importance of an Anglo-Russian Alliance, but the terrible danger which existed already at that time and made that alliance indispensable? “Those who dreamt of an Anglo-Russian Alliance” would be sincerely pleased with Dr. Pollen’s poem. In the year 1891, and even later, such views and ideas were, unfortunately, very scarce. As to his penetrating understanding of Germany’s diabolic plot against Christian civilization and humanity, his words of warning to the world would have failed to be appreciated even some four or five years ago. But he seems to have been discussing colour with people born stone blind. . . . However, Dr. Pollen had the courage of his conviction and the call of duty. . . . A good example to all of us! Here are the very prophetic words which can be appreciated now more than ever before. I could not have a better conclusion for my efforts than Dr. Pollen’s lines (p. 190):

“In truth the ‘Teuton’ is thy foe!

Thy rival he in every field.

*         *        *        *        *

But why should England cross the Russ?

We both have kindred work to do!

Asia is wide; for him, for us,

There’s space to spare, with high aims, too.

*         *        *        *        *

Let ‘great White Czar,’ let ‘great White Queen,’

Stretch forth o’er Asia healing hands,

Touching the sere leaf into green,

Blessing with bloom the barren lands.”

These words ought to have been hailed already at the time, in England as well as in Russia, as a great clarion call and obeyed.