The Demon by Lermontov

"And long he gazed, with fascination
at the sweet view; as if in a dream
came as on summons from afar
and swam before him, star on star."

"Her dreams, his manner of appearing,
such flattery had not failed to reach
her heart; his sad gaze, the endearing,
the tender strangeness of his speech.
herself not knowing rhyme or reason,
she's pined and languished many days;
her heart may wish to pray in season
to holy saints, to him it prays;
worn out by struggle unabating,
if she lies down on slumber's bed,
her pillow burns, she's suffocating,
she starts up, shivering with dread;
her breast, her shoulders flame, she races
to breathe, she chokes, mist's in her eyes,
her arms are thirsting for embraces,
and on her lips a kiss that dies..."

"
...
my heaven, my hell are in your gaze.
I love you with no earthly passion,
such love that you could never find:
with rapture, in the towering fashion
of an immortal heart and mind."





















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I'm surprised Lermontov depicted this concept- for a devil be attracted to a maiden. This just seems too much of a taboo, especially at that time. I really liked how the demon was fascinated by her beauty. Why, I wonder, did she attract his attention? A mere human being? Personally, I think it was because of the "purity" she represent. Not only because she probably was a virgin, but because she had a pure MIND. Lermontov portrays this very well:

she's pined and languished many days;
her heart may wish to pray in season
to holy saints, to him it prays;

She is so affected! Her whole world is upside down! As much as she tried to keep her piety, she was deterred by him. And yet, she still tries, thinking it is her duty. Only a pure maiden would want to do good when she knows she is entering the realm of temptation. And what temptation? Those are nothing but dreams!

With what passion can a demon love?

Narrative Poems by Alexander Pushkin & Mikhail Lermontov

Onegin's Journey by Pushkin

"Whatever feelings may have smarted
inside me then, they fled away:
They're all transmitted or departed...
Peace to you storms of yesterday!
Then my imagination ordered
deserts, and billows pearly-bordered,
sea-tumult, summits craggy-browed,
with my ideal, the maiden proud
And sufferings quite beyond redeeming...
and yet new seasons always bring
new visions; humbled is my spring
with its inebriated dreaming,
and, as a poet, I've topped up
the water-quotient in my cup."

The visual imagery here so marvelously describes the energy of the storm, and by positioning the "maiden proud" right in the middle of this electricity, cries out poetry in its most violent form. For what poet does not dream of this exact scene, this scene that is so dramatic which provides so many contrasts? -this extreme violence of nature, and the maiden proud standing it through all.

Also, I was extremely excited to find this book- because it was a "missing part" to the real Eugene Onegin. But of course this did not affect the ending whatsoever, just the journey part of Onegin was explained in more detail in this story/poem.

Pushkin is so extremely entertaining! It is as if one is watching comedy in a play. Like Graf-Nulin; hilariously written!

Mozart and Salieri by Pushkin

"I murdered sounds, and the dissected
Music like a cadaver. Harmony
Became for me an algebra."

I am so afraid of doing that! Goodness. I hope it won't become a science for me- because then it will kill it all.

" No.
To me, nothing's for laughter when a useless
Dauber is botching up Raphael's Madonna;
To me, nothing's for laughter, when some base
Buffoon in an ignoble parody
Degrades the name of Dante..."

I can actually relate to that. Some people don't accept that they don't have talent, and by this denial they blaspheme masterpieces that humble.

" If only
everybody could so feel the strength
Of harmony! But no: for in that case
The world could not continue: no one would
Trouble about life's grosser cares.' and all
Would dedicate themselves to untrammeled art!
How few of us there are, we happy idlers,
Chosen ones who spurn the ignoble call
Of mere utility, priests dedicated
Only to beauty."

Spurn means to disdain. It is interesting that he uses the same word ignoble- for both characters. It shows that they both believe in the same idea, but in different ways. Mozart here, of course, is the real genius. He is the "god: of music- so to speak and the true worshiper. And Salieri is only a novice in his worship. And yet, as he himself describes- he forgot how to truly worship- to get lost in it- and only the "idea" of worship remains. Not the act itself. Salieri raised Mozart up to the stars- consciously knowing that he himself is drifting farther away from it. Maybe that is why it bothers him so much when the old man sings Mozart- because it is insulting the rank of his ideal. Mozart on the other hand is still a worshiper, "a priest", and by getting lost in this harmony, this music, he learned its secrets. One has to let it (the mysteries of the universe, the beauty of nature) teach him. That is true genius. Maybe that is why Salieri killed Mozart- because he knew he had lost it...as I went back in the poem he clearly says,

"No, I can't fight my fate
I've been picked out to stop him, otherwise
We'll all be ruined, music's priests, its servants,
not I alone, with my dull reputation..
No, what use is it, if Mozart lives on
and reaches a new summit? by so doing
will he raise art up higher? No! as soon
As he is gone, it will sink down again:"

There! Mozart only continues to go up higher, while Salieri would descend lower. he raised the bar not only for all humanity to see, but for other Salieris- while knowing what is happening...the contrast will provide greater failure on their part. Because then, it will be all too apparent that they cannot continue being music priests at all, they would know that it is all a lie- that all their harmony became "algebra". And that is something they cannot accept- they failed their "idol".

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Pub by Vintage Books

A Hero of Our Time by Mikhail Lermontov

"At first this morning, when I opened the window, my room was filled with the perfume of flowers growing in the modest front garden. The branches of cherry trees in bloom look into my window, and the wind occasionally strews my desk with their white petals."

"He is a poet in all his actions, and frequently in his utterings, although in all his life he never wrote two lines of verse. He has studied all the live strings of the human heart in the same way as one studies the veins of a dead body"

And how much humanity would have benefited from this type of poet! And yet some of the poets are fated to not share their gift, even with themselves consciously. In the end, does the poet benefit more or less when he lets his gift out? Maybe it is a lot sweeter if it is kept to oneself...

"Women love only those whom they do not know."

They prefer the unrealistic aspect of it- the mystery. Such a marvelous statement for the fair sex. It hints at the chaos females bottle inside- for they want the unrealistic when they cannot help but live their lives in reality. They want an escape, so they prefer not knowing, for they cannot control the mysterious.

" 'Aha!' he said, 'so that's the way you are! Didn't you intend not to make the princess' acquaintance in any other way but saving her from certain death?'
'I did better, 'I answered him,' I saved her from fainting at a ball.' "

"You see in everything the nasty side...you materialist."

"And then again...there is boundless delight int he possession of a young, barely unfolded soul! It is like a flower whose best fragrance emanates to meet the first rays of the sun (...) I look upon the sufferings and joys of others only in relation to myself as in the food sustaining the strength of my soul."

"Well what of it? If i am to die, I'll die! The loss to the world will not be large and, anyway, I myself am sufficiently bored."

That is one way to look at it

"And yet one lives- out of curiosity. One keeps expecting something new...Absurd and vexatious!"

Such pessimism. As if we are a creature that only knows how to hope, even in the worst of circumstances. When in reality let's just say that is mostly disappointing. And yet we hope!

"How curiously I examined every dewdrop that trembled upon a broad vine leaf and reflected a million iridescent rays!"

"Can evil possibly be so attractive?"

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This book I will always remember as an extremely hilarious book. It is one of the funniest books I've ever read. I will always remember the scene where the main character burst in on the princess and the other man. It is so unorthodox and unceremonious! Especially in that age. Oh yes, the word I would describe is provocative. And why provocative? For no reason at all! The man was just having fun. It is marvelously written, such sophistication and satire. I mean it ridicules so many things, in Chekhov's words, "a farce". Great fun to read.