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Read Ebook: The World's Greatest Books — Volume 17 — Poetry and Drama by Hammerton J A John Alexander Editor Mee Arthur Editor
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Ebook has 896 lines and 74724 words, and 18 pages
The Inspector-General
ACT I
GOVERNOR : I have bad news. An inspector-general is coming from St. Petersburg. You must see that your various departments are set in order. The hospital must be tidied up and the patients must be provided with nice white night-caps. The school-teachers must coach up the scholars in their subjects.
Nicolai Vasilieyitch Gogol is famous not only as the prince of Russian humorists, but as the real founder of both the modern drama and the novel in Russian literature. He was born on March 31, 1809, in the province of Poltava, in South, or "Little," Russia, and died at Moscow on March 3, 1852. His life was replete with romantic episodes. After a short career on the stage, in St. Petersburg, followed by the tenure of a minor Government office, he returned to the South, and at once found his true vocation and achieved a wide popularity by a collection of stories and sketches of Cossack life, entitled "Evenings at a Farm House," which appeared in 1830. Other "Cossack Tales" rapidly followed, including the famous "Taras Bulba"; in recognition of which, and of his project for writing a history of Russia in the Middle Ages, he was rewarded with a chair of history at St. Petersburg. This he held but for a short time, however. Turning his attention to comedy, Gogol now produced the drama "The Inspector-General" in 1836, the play achieving a tremendous success on the stage in the spring of the same year, whilst in 1842 his novel entitled "Dead Souls" embodied the fruits of the same idea in fiction. The play is intended to bring a scathing indictment against the corruptions and abuses of officialism and administration. The following epitome has been prepared from the original Russian.
OLIVER GOLDSMITH
She Stoops to Conquer
MR. HARDCASTLE MARLOW
TONY LUMPKIN KATE HARDCASTLE
HASTINGS SIR CHARLES MARLOW
MRS. HARDCASTLE CONSTANCE NEVILLE
SERVANTS
ACT I
MRS. HARDCASTLE: I vow, Mr. Hardcastle, I hate such old-fashioned trumpery.
HARDCASTLE: And I love it; old friends, old times, old manners, old books, old wine, and I believe you'll own I've been pretty fond of an old wife.
MRS. HARDCASTLE: Oh, you're for ever at your old wife. I'm not so old as you'd make me. I was twenty when my son Tony was born, and he's not come to years of discretion yet.
HARDCASTLE: Nor ever will, I dare answer; you've taught him finely. Alehouse and stable are his only schools.
HEINRICH HEINE
Atta Troll
In the valley lies attractive Cauterets. The shining houses Gay with balconies, and on them Stand fair ladies loudly laughing.
Laughing as they look beneath them On the brightly swarming market, Where are dancing bear and she-bear To the droning of the bagpipes.
Atta Troll and his good lady, Whom the people call black Mumma, Are the dancers; the Biscayans Shout aloud in admiration.
Atta Troll, who once paraded Like a mighty lord of deserts, Free upon the mountain summit, Dances in the vale to rabble!
Both the music and the laughter Quickly cease, and shrieking loudly, From the market fly the people, And the ladies they are fainting.
Yes, the slavish chain that bound him Suddenly hath rent asunder Atta Troll. And, wildly springing, Up the rocks he nimbly clambers.
In the empty market standing, All alone are left black Mumma And the keeper. Wild with fury On the ground his hat he dashes.
On the wretched poor black Mumma Falls this much-enraged one's fury Doubly down at last; he beats her, Then he calls her Queen Christina.
In the vale of Ronceval Not far off from Roland's cleft, And by savage fir-trees hidden, Lies the cave of Atta Troll.
In the bosom of his family, There he rests from all his hardships. Tender meeting! All his young ones Found he in the well-loved cavern:
Well-licked, lady-like young bears, Blonde their hair, like parson's daughters; Brown the boys, the youngest only With the single ear is black.
Gladly now relates the old one What he's in the world experienced, Of the overwhelming plaudits Reaped by his great skill in dancing.
Overcome by self-laudation, Now he calls on deeds to witness That he is no wretched boaster, That he's really great at dancing.
In the caverns with his offspring, Sick at heart, upon his back lies Atta Troll; in meditation Licks his paws, and, licking, growls:
"Mumma, Mumma, pearl of blackness, Whom I fished from out life's ocean, Is it thus that in life's ocean I am forced again to lose thee!
"Might I only once more sniffle That sweet odour, the peculiar, Of my black, my darling Mumma, Fragrant as the scent of roses!
"But, alas! my Mumma pineth In the fetters of those rascals, Who, the name of Men assuming, Call themselves Creation's lords.
"Mankind, are ye any better Than we others, just because ye Boiled and baked devour your victuals? In a raw state we eat ours.
"Children," grumbles Atta Troll, "Children, we must seize the future! If each bear but thought as I do, We should soon subdue the tyrants.
"Let the boar but form alliance With the horse, the elephant Coil his trunk with love fraternal Round the valiant bullock's horn;
"Bear and wolf of every colour, Goat and monkey; even hares, too, Let them work awhile together, And the victory cannot fail us.
"Equal rights for all God's creatures, Be our fundamental maxim; Absolutely no distinction In belief, or skin, or smell.
"Strict equality! Ev'ry jackass Competent for highest office; On the other hand, the lion Trotting with the corn to grind."
Many an honest, virtuous burgher Lives on earth in evil odour, Whilst your princely people reek of Lavender and ambergris.
Therefore do not make wry faces, Gentle reader, if the cave of Atta Troll should not remind you Of the spices of Arabia.
Tarry with me in the steamy Confines in the dismal odour, Where the hero to his youngest Speaks as if from out a cloud:
"Ever shun men's ways of thinking! Not a creature that is decent Can be found among these creatures. Even Germans, once much better,
"In primeval times our cousins, These alike are now degen'rate: Traitors to their creed and godless, Now they preach e'en atheism!
"Only be no atheist, Like a non-bear who respects not His great Maker--Yes, a Maker Hath this universe created.
"Yonder in the starred pavilion, On the golden throne of power, World-controlling and majestic, Sits a giant Polar bear.
"At his feet are sitting gentle Sainted bears, who in their life-time Uncomplaining suffered; in their Paws the palm of martyrdom.
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