Nikolai Nekrasov - Who Can Be Happy and Free in Russia?

I sat there and struggled
To keep myself silent.
At last the day ended, 230
And with it the journey,
And God had had pity
Upon His poor orphan;
I crawled to the village.
And now, by His mercy,
I'm better again."

"Is that what you boast of—
Your happiness, peasant?"
Exclaims an old lackey
With legs weak and gouty. 240

"Treat me, little brothers,
I'm happy, God sees it!
For I was the chief serf
Of Prince Pereméteff,
A rich prince, and mighty,
My wife, the most favoured
By him, of the women;

My daughter, together
With his, the young lady,
Was taught foreign languages, 250
French and some others;

And she was permitted
To sit , and not stand,
In her mistress's presence.
Good Lord! How it bites!"

(He stoops down to rub it,
The gouty right knee-cap.)

The peasants laugh loudly!
"What laugh you at, stupids?"
He cries, getting angry, 260
"I'm ill, I thank God,
And at waking and sleeping
I pray, 'Leave me ever
My honoured complaint, Lord!
For that makes me noble!'

I've none of your low things,
Your peasants' diseases,
My illness is lofty,
And only acquired
By the most elevated, 270
The first in the Empire;

I suffer, you villains,
From gout, gout its name is!
It's only brought on
By the drinking of claret,
Of Burgundy, champagne,
Hungarian syrup,
By thirty years' drinking!

For forty years, peasants,
I've stood up behind it— 280
The chair of His Highness,
The Prince Pereméteff,
And swallowed the leavings
In plates and in glasses,
The finest French truffles,
The dregs of the liquors.
Come, treat me, you peasants!"

"Excuse us, your Lordship,
Our wine is but simple,
The drink of the peasants! 290
It wouldn't suit you !"

A bent, yellow-haired man
Steals up to the peasants,
A man from White Russia.
He yearns for the vodka.
"Oh, give me a taste!"
He implores, "I am happy!"

"But wait! You must tell us
In what you are happy."

"In bread I am happy; 300
At home, in White Russia,
The bread is of barley,
All gritty and weedy.

At times, I can tell you,
I've howled out aloud,
Like a woman in labour,
With pains in my stomach!

But now, by God's mercy,
I work for Gubónine,
And there they give rye-bread, 310
I'm happy in that."

A dark-looking peasant,
With jaw turned and twisted,
Which makes him look sideways,
Says next, "I am happy.
A bear-hunter I am,
And six of my comrades
Were killed by old Mishka; [26] The Russian nickname for the bear.
On me God has mercy."

"Look round to the left side." 320
He tries to, but cannot,
For all his grimaces!

"A bear knocked my jaw round,
A savage young female."

"Go, look for another,
And give her the left cheek,
She'll soon put it straight!"

They laugh, but, however,
They give him some vodka.
Some ragged old beggars 330
Come up to the peasants,
Drawn near by the smell
Of the froth on the vodka;
They say they are happy.

"Why, right on his threshold
The shopman will meet us!
We go to a house-door,
From there they conduct us
Right back to the gate!

When we begin singing 340
The housewife runs quickly
And brings to the window
A loaf and a knife.

And then we sing loudly,
'Oh, give us the whole loaf,
It cannot be cut
And it cannot be crumbled,
For you it is quicker,
For us it is better!'"

The peasants observe 350
That their vodka is wasted,
The pail's nearly empty.

They say to the people,
"Enough of your chatter,
You, shabby and ragged,
You, humpbacked and corny,
Go, get you all home!"

"In your place, good strangers,"
The peasant, Fedócy,
From "Swallow-Smoke" village, 360
Said, sitting beside them,
"I'd ask Érmil Gírin.
If he will not suit you,
If he is not happy,
Then no one can help you."

"But who is this Érmil,
A noble—a prince?"

"No prince—not a noble,
But simply a peasant."

"Well, tell us about him." 370
"I'll tell you; he rented
The mill of an orphan,
Until the Court settled
To sell it at auction.

Then Érmil, with others,
Went into the sale-room.
The small buyers quickly
Dropped out of the bidding;

Till Érmil alone,
With a merchant, Altérnikoff, 380
Kept up the fight.

The merchant outbid him,
Each time by a farthing,
Till Érmil grew angry
And added five roubles;
The merchant a farthing
And Érmil a rouble.

The merchant gave in then,
When suddenly something
Unlooked for occurred: 390
The sellers demanded
A third of the money
Paid down on the spot;

'Twas one thousand roubles,
And Érmil had not brought
So much money with him;
'Twas either his error,
Or else they deceived him.

The merchant said gaily,
'The mill comes to me, then?' 400
'Not so,' replied Érmil;
He went to the sellers;
'Good sirs, will you wait
Thirty minutes?' he asked.

"'But how will that help you?'
'I'll bring you the money.'
"'But where will you find it?
You're out of your senses!
It's thirty-five versts
To the mill; in an hour now 410
The sales will be finished.'

"'You'll wait half an hour, sirs?'
'An hour, if you wish.'
Then Érmil departed,
The sellers exchanging
Sly looks with the merchant,
And grinning—the foxes!

But Érmil went out
And made haste to the market-place
Crowded with people 420
('Twas market-day, then),
And he mounted a waggon,
And there he stood crossing
Himself, and low bowing
In all four directions.

He cried to the people,
'Be silent a moment,
I've something to ask you!'
The place became still
And he told them the story: 430

"'Since long has the merchant
Been wooing the mill,
But I'm not such a dullard.

Five times have I been here
To ask if there would be
A second day's bidding,
They answered, 'There will.'
You know that the peasant
Won't carry his money
All over the by-ways 440
Without a good reason,
So I have none with me;

And look—now they tell me
There's no second bidding
And ask for the money!

The cunning ones tricked me
And laughed—the base heathens!

And said to me sneering:
'But, what can you do
In an hour? Where find money?' 450

"'They're crafty and strong,
But the people are stronger!
The merchant is rich—
But the people are richer!
Hey! What is his worth
To their treasury, think you?
Like fish in the ocean
The wealth of the people;
You'll draw it and draw it—
But not see its end! 460