The poem "Confession" created by G. R. Derzhavin in his old age, as it were, sums up all his poetic activity. This is how the poet himself regarded him in his “Explanation to All His Works”
Confession
Derzhavin. Confession
I couldn't pretend
to be like a saint
Inflate with an important dignity
And the philosopher to take the form:
I loved sincerity
I thought they only liked
Mind and human heart
They were my genius.
If I shone with delight,
Fire flew from my strings.
I did not shine with myself - with God;
Outside of myself, I sang God.
If the sounds were dedicated
My lyres to kings,
Virtues seemed
They are like gods to me.
If for the victory loud
I wove crowns for the leaders,
Thought to pour into descendants
Their souls and their children.
If where the nobles are powerful
I dared to blurt out the truth,
Thought to be an impartial heart
They, the king, are a friend to the fatherland.
If I am vanity
He himself was seduced by the light,
I confess beauty
Being captured, he sang and wives.
In a word, he burned love if the flame,
I fell, got up in my age.
Come on, sage! on my coffin stone,
If you are not human.
Other materials about the life and work of G. R. Derzhavin - see below, in the block "More on the topic ..."
July 14 marks the 270th anniversary of the birth of Gavrila Romanovich Derzhavin (1743 - 1816)
Derzhavin has lines that he considered an explanation for all his poems, and even for fate.
I couldn't pretend
to be like a saint
Inflate with an important dignity
And a philosopher to take a look;
I loved sincerity
I thought they only liked
Mind and human heart
They were my genius.
If I shone with delight,
Fire flew from my strings,
I did not shine with myself - with God;
Outside of myself, I sang God.
If the sounds were dedicated
My lyre to the kings, -
Virtues seemed
They are like gods to me.
If for the victory loud
I wove crowns for the leaders, -
Thought to pour into descendants
Their souls and their children.
If where the nobles are powerful
I dared to blurt out the truth,
Thought to be an impartial heart
They, the king, are a friend to the fatherland.
If I am vanity
He himself was seduced by the light, -
I confess beauty
Being a prisoner, he sang and wives.
In a word: burned love if the flame,
I fell, got up in my age.
Come on, sage! on my coffin stone,
If you are not human.
This "Confession" was written in 1807, when Derzhavin was almost 65 years old. Deep old age for those times, but how lively and frank poetry. Approaches to spiritual lyrics permeate his whole life - as well as a humble awareness of himself as God. He liked to remember that, according to a family legend, the first word that the Kazan boy Ganyushka Derzhavin uttered was the word God.
On the anniversary days, one could recall many episodes of Derzhavin's public service - a soldier, a tenacious manager, a fighter against bribery or, as we would say today, corruption. An adherent of a conservative ideology, a monarchist who resisted the republican reforms of the times of the "days of Alexander's beginning", which Derzhavin did not think was wonderful. But we will talk about two poems that have remained unsurpassed masterpieces of Russian spiritual lyrics.
This was during the first takeoff of Derzhavin's career. Catherine liked his mocking and at the same time complimentary stanzas addressed to Felitsa. He borrowed Felitsa and other heroes of that ode from a fairy tale that the Empress herself composed. Everyone understood who the poet meant by "the god-like princess of the Kirghiz-Kaisatsky horde."
He left the service in the Senate, with the captious Prosecutor General Vyazemsky, and was waiting for a new - honorary - appointment. The poet received almost three months of free life - such happiness rarely fell to him. He left his St. Petersburg house to tour the estates (at that time Derzhavin had few of them) with a kind of economic inspection. But it turned out differently: during this time he did not correct his financial affairs, but he tuned the lyre in an impeccable way.
Derzhavin did not cultivate an ecstatic attitude towards creativity - "scribbling poetry", as a rule, did not become a sacred rite for him. But in those days, the ode "God" appeared to him.
And this topic demanded solitude and peace, and perhaps not peace at all, but a rare flight of the soul. Derzhavin gained fame as an amusing poet. But spiritual lyrics are the highest manifestation of poetry. Lomonosov and Sumarokov left examples worthy of it, but their transcriptions of the psalms still seemed cold to Derzhavin.
Derzhavin firmly remembered the history of the creation of this - cherished - ode: “The author received the first inspiration, or idea, for writing this ode in 1780, being in the palace at the Vespers on Bright Sunday, and then, having arrived home, put the first lines on paper; but, being busy with a position and various secular bustles, no matter how much he was accepted, he could not finish it, having written, however, at different times several verses. Then, in 1784, having received a resignation from the service, he was about to finish, but he also could not in city life; however, he was constantly impelled by an inner feeling, and in order to satisfy it, having told his first wife that he was going to his Polish villages to inspect them, he went and, having arrived in Narva, left his wagon and people at the inn, hired a little peace in the town with an old German woman so that she would cook for him; where, shutting himself up, he composed it for several days, but without finishing the last verse of this ode, which was already at night, he fell asleep before the light; sees in a dream that light shines in his eyes, woke up, and in fact, his imagination was so heated that it seemed to him that light was running around the walls, and with it, streams of tears poured from his eyes; he got up and at that very moment, with an illuminating lamp, wrote this last stanza, ending with the fact that he actually shed grateful tears for the concepts that were entrusted to him.
So - with conspiracy, with visions, he managed to retire and at least for a few days, without a trace, indulge in writing ...
This powerful poem has several endings - when the reader needs to take a breath. Reading:
I am your creation, Creator!
I am a creature of your wisdom,
Source of life, giver of blessings,
The soul of my soul and the King!
Your truth needed
To cross the abyss of death
My being is immortal;
So that my spirit is clothed in mortality
And so that through death I return,
Father! - into your immortality.
Yes, this is the final climax! This is where the shocked reader should think about the Majesty of God. "Father! into your immortality. Where is higher? All the words have been said, it seems impossible to continue. But Derzhavin again turns the huge frigate of the ode and directs it forward - further, further, along the waves and against the current:
Inexplicable, Incomprehensible!
I know that my soul
Imagination is powerless
And draw your shadow;
But if you must praise,
That is impossible for weak mortals
Honor you with nothing else
How can they only rise to You,
Lost in the infinite difference
And grateful tears to shed.
After reading the ode, putting the book down, we physically feel: here the poet gave everything, drained his emotions to the bottom and, exhausted, collapsed to his knees.
One modern poet, who loves and understands Derzhavin, convinced me that the very last stanza here is superfluous. Everything has already been said, she only smears the finale. Yes, Derzhavin often allowed "passing" stanzas - out of love for large-scale canvases. More authentic means more fundamental, and such an immense topic is certainly worthy of a long, lengthy ode. But here the final stanza was the key for Derzhavin! He honored her with an extremely heartfelt comment - about shed tears, which alone can complete such an ode.
Infrequently, Derzhavin, in explanations to poetry, let slip about the innermost. He was embarrassed by fits of inspiration, he was afraid to seem like a holy fool or a helix. And then he suddenly started talking about the high, about the divine. It turns out that prayer resonates in the heart with the same music, which a little later everyone meaningfully began to call inspiration. Derzhavin had less piitistic pride than the nightingales of the era of literary centrism.
The ode "God" is sometimes called the beginning of classical Russian literature. Grotto reports about "the first Russian work that became the property of the whole world" It is difficult to talk about the massive international success of a Russian poem in the 18th century. But translations of the "divine" ode were composed everywhere. Mostly, they appeared at the initiative of the Russian side ...
“The ode “God” was considered the best not only of the odes of spiritual and moral content, but in general the best of all the odes of Derzhavin. The poet himself was of the same opinion. What mystical respect this ode enjoyed in the old days can be proved by the ridiculous tale that each of us heard in childhood, that the ode “God” was even translated into Chinese and, embroidered with silk on a shield, placed over the bed of the bogdykhan,” says Belinsky.
Vasily Mikhailovich Golovin published notes “On adventures in captivity among the Japanese” - with exotic confirmation of Derzhavin's fame: “Once, scientists asked me to write them some poems by one of our best poets. I wrote Derzhavin's ode "God", and when I read it to them, they distinguished rhymes and found pleasantness in sounds; but Japanese curiosity could not be satisfied with one reading: they wanted to have a translation of this ode; much labor and time cost me to explain to them the thoughts contained in it; however, in the end, they understood the whole ode, except for the verse:
Without faces in the three faces of the Godhead? -
which was left without interpretation, about the explanation of which they did not insist too much when I told them that in order to understand this verse, one must be a true Christian.
The Japanese really liked that part of this ode, where the poet, turning to God, says among other things: “And you connected the chain of creatures with me.”
... Derzhavin's attempt to explain the essence of the Trinity was not only the Japanese could not understand.
Eternal with the passage of time,
Without faces, in the three faces of the Divine!
Many considered this formula seditious, and Derzhavin hinted that one Orthodox canon was not enough here. “The author, in addition to the theological concept of our Orthodox faith, understood here three metaphysical persons; that is: infinite space, uninterrupted life in the movement of matter, and the endless flow of time, which God combines in himself. Allusions to the existence of many worlds and suns also puzzled the zealots of the canon. But nevertheless, the ode received recognition in church circles: prayerful sincerity conquered.
In Derzhavin, many either unconscious or thoughtful borrowings from German poetry are found. It is impossible to deny the roll call - here we recall Haller's "Eternity", and Klopstock's "Messiah", and Herder's "God", and Brokes's "Majesty of God". “Derzhavin's dependence on Western models generally seemed to go further than is commonly thought,” A. Veselovsky believed. One thing is clear: German poetry pushed Derzhavin to a bold idea: to show the connection between God and man in nature, in thoughts, even at the everyday level. The most famous stanza of the Ode screams about this - perfect in form and depth of thought:
I am the connection of worlds that exist everywhere,
I am the extreme degree of matter;
I am the center of the living
The trait of the initial Deity;
I'm rotting in the ashes,
I command the thunders with my mind,
I am a king - I am a slave - I am a worm - I am God!
But being so wonderful
Where did it happen? - unknown;
And I couldn't be myself.
... Here, as in novels and screenplays, many years have passed. The great empress died, the emperor Paul died. French battalions trampled Russian soil. And Gavrila Romanovich began to visit the church more often, to take communion.
In his old age, he again turned to spiritual lyrics - and even during the days of the war with foreign invaders he worked on the lengthy ode "Christ". The Russian regiments were already fighting in France, the driven Napoleon fought with his last strength, throwing boys into battle. Then the winners - monarchs and diplomats - decided the future of mankind in the Austrian capital. It would seem that Derzhavin had to delve into the weaving of political calculations, but he wrote:
Who are you? And how to portray
Your greatness and insignificance
Incorruptibility to agree with decay,
Merge with impossibility opportunity?
You are God - but You suffered from torment!
You are a man - but you were a stranger to revenge!
You are mortal - but the scepter of death has expired!
You are eternal - but your spirit is gone!
The result was a huge theological ode about Christ, an agitated reflection on the God-man, written at the limit of the outgoing forces. In those years, Derzhavin corresponded with the future Metropolitan Philaret, the then rector of the Metropolitan Theological Academy. He became an intermediary between the poet and strict spiritual censorship in the publication of the ode "Christ". Derzhavin replied to cavils: “No mortal can explain the fate and mysteries of God. In this case, it would be most useful to captivate only the mind with blind faith, and neither theologians nor philosophers should preach or write anything about the essence of God and His Providence; - but as they wrote, they will write and they will write, and this is not contrary to the Holy Scripture, which says: You are all sons of light, and - every scripture is inspired by God for teaching; then I think that even this work will not cause discord in our Orthodoxy, all the more so if, in doubtful places, it will be honored with brief remarks by the holy fathers, as it should be understood theologically.
This is the last major work of Derzhavin, this is a dying appeal to Christ. He failed to rise to the heights of the ingenious formulations of "God" a second time. But how expensive is this impulse of weakening hands and a sick heart ... With such verses, Derzhavin passed away into eternity:
Hear me, O God of love!
Father of generosity and mercy!
Do not despise the bowed head
And the heart is sinful boldness
Don't blame me for mine
What did I try to explain to you ...
Gavriil Romanovich Derzhavin
I couldn't pretend
to be like a saint
Inflate with an important dignity
And a philosopher to take a look;
I loved sincerity
I thought they only liked
Mind and human heart
They were my genius.
If I shone with delight,
Fire flew from my strings,
I did not shine with myself - with God;
Outside of myself, I sang God.
If the sounds were dedicated
My lyre to the kings,
Virtues seemed
They are like gods to me.
If for the victory loud
I wove crowns for the leaders,
Thought to pour into descendants
Their souls and their children.
If where the nobles are powerful
I dared to blurt out the truth,
Thought to be an impartial heart
They, the king, are a friend to the fatherland.
If I am vanity
He himself was seduced by the light, -
I confess beauty
Being captured, he sang and wives.
In a word: I burned love if the flame,
I fell, got up in my age.
Come on, sage! on my coffin stone,
If you are not human.
Every poet sooner or later sums up his literary activity and, looking back, tries to determine the most important thing for which he lived his life. A similar poem called "Confession", written in 1807, is also in Gavriil Derzhavin. It is sustained in the best traditions of classicism, and in it the author openly talks about how he lived his life and what he managed to achieve in the literary field.
The poet admits that he has never been a saint and did not know how to pretend, did not put on airs and did not philosophize. “I loved sincerity, I thought only they liked it,” Derzhavin notes. However, life made its own adjustments to the idealistic worldview of the poet, and at some stage he realized that the world is arranged a little differently. It turns out that people often value their own kind not for straightforwardness, talent and striving for excellence, but for appearance, position in society and financial well-being. However, in this respect, Derzhavin was really lucky, since he was not only a sought-after court poet, but also managed to make a brilliant political career. Perhaps for this reason he was allowed to speak aloud much of what others preferred to remain silent.
True, one should not forget that Derzhavin himself was an ardent supporter of the monarchy and never concealed his political views. While Europe was going through a political crisis and was fond of freethinking, the poet dedicated odes to Empress Catherine, sincerely admiring her intelligence and enterprise. “If the sounds were dedicated to my lyre to the kings, they seemed to me equal in virtue to the gods,” the poet admits. At the same time, he himself does not even try to elevate himself to the rank of a higher being, noting that he shone not with himself, but with the god that is in his soul.
Patriotism and the desire to preserve for history the exploits of Russian soldiers, contempt for wealth and arrogance - these are the hallmarks of Derzhavin as a poet. “If somewhere I dared to blurt out the truth to the powerful nobles, I imagined to be an impartial heart to them, to the king, to the fatherland,” the poet notes. He emphasizes that he never envied those in whose hands power and money are concentrated, but he did not know how to remain silent when people use their power not for the benefit of the state, but for selfish purposes.
Of course, in the creative heritage of Derzhavin there are also lyrical works, which the poet is not at all ashamed of. He also succumbed to feminine charm and was often blinded by the luxury of social events, reflecting his feelings in poetry. In his declining years, Derzhavin admits that it is unacceptable for a true poet and patriot to waste his talent on such trifles. Nevertheless, the author is convinced that each of us may have our own weaknesses, which should not be judged strictly and with prejudice. Derzhavin knew both ups and downs, but each time he got up and stubbornly continued on his way. “Throw a stone on my coffin, sage, if you are not a man,” exclaims Derzhavin, believing that he lived his life with dignity, and he has nothing to reproach himself with when it comes to literary achievements.
"Confession" Gavriil Derzhavin
I couldn't pretend
to be like a saint
Inflate with an important dignity
And a philosopher to take a look;
I loved sincerity
I thought they only liked
Mind and human heart
They were my genius.
If I shone with delight,
Fire flew from my strings,
I did not shine with myself - with God;
Outside of myself, I sang God.
If the sounds were dedicated
My lyre to the kings, -
Virtues seemed
They are like gods to me.
If for the victory loud
I wove crowns for the leaders, -
Thought to pour into descendants
Their souls and their children.
If where the nobles are powerful
I dared to blurt out the truth,
Thought to be an impartial heart
They, the king, are a friend to the fatherland.
If I am vanity
He himself was seduced by the light, -
I confess beauty
Being captured, he sang and wives.
In a word: I burned love if the flame,
I fell, got up in my age.
Come on, sage! on my coffin stone,
If you are not human.
Analysis of Derzhavin's poem "Confession"
Every poet sooner or later sums up his literary activity and, looking back, tries to determine the most important thing for which he lived his life. A similar poem called "Confession", written in 1807, is also in Gavriil Derzhavin. It is sustained in the best traditions of classicism, and in it the author openly talks about how he lived his life and what he managed to achieve in the literary field.
The poet admits that he has never been a saint and did not know how to pretend, did not put on airs and did not philosophize. “I loved sincerity, I thought only they liked it,” Derzhavin notes. However, life made its own adjustments to the idealistic worldview of the poet, and at some stage he realized that the world is arranged a little differently. It turns out that people often value their own kind not for straightforwardness, talent and striving for excellence, but for appearance, position in society and financial well-being. However, in this respect, Derzhavin was really lucky, since he was not only a sought-after court poet, but also managed to make a brilliant political career. Perhaps for this reason he was allowed to speak aloud much of what others preferred to remain silent.
True, one should not forget that Derzhavin himself was an ardent supporter of the monarchy and never concealed his political views. While Europe was going through a political crisis and was fond of freethinking, the poet dedicated odes to Empress Catherine, sincerely admiring her intelligence and enterprise. “If the sounds were dedicated to my lyre to the kings, they seemed to me equal in virtue to the gods,” the poet admits. At the same time, he himself does not even try to elevate himself to the rank of a higher being, noting that he shone not with himself, but with the god that is in his soul.
Patriotism and the desire to preserve the exploits of Russian soldiers for history, contempt for wealth and arrogance - these are the hallmarks of Derzhavin as a poet. “If somewhere I dared to blurt out the truth to the powerful nobles, I imagined to be an impartial heart to them, to the king, to the fatherland,” the poet notes. He emphasizes that he never envied those in whose hands power and money are concentrated, but he did not know how to remain silent when people use their power not for the benefit of the state, but for selfish purposes.
Of course, in the creative heritage of Derzhavin there are also lyrical works, which the poet is not at all ashamed of. He also succumbed to feminine charm and was often blinded by the luxury of social events, reflecting his feelings in poetry. In his declining years, Derzhavin admits that it is unacceptable for a true poet and patriot to waste his talent on such trifles. Nevertheless, the author is convinced that each of us may have our own weaknesses, which should not be judged strictly and with prejudice. Derzhavin knew both ups and downs, but each time he got up and stubbornly continued on his way. “Throw a stone on my coffin, sage, if you are not a man,” exclaims Derzhavin, believing that he lived his life with dignity, and he has nothing to reproach himself with when it comes to literary achievements.
