klausnick/莫罗佐夫·尼科莱/профан (klausnick) wrote,
klausnick/莫罗佐夫·尼科莱/профан
klausnick

the poor Russ


We need not however, have recourse to so solitary a circumstance, in illustration of that character so truly possessed by the natives of this country. Many and various are the sources which contribute to it. If we look to those which are not natural but acquired, we shall find there is none more abundant than that of slavery. Of this the poor Russ is the most perfect creature. He is a slave to his appetites, to his religion, and to his government. From his cradle to his grave, is one incessant series of thraldom and pressure. The current of his life resembles a kennel, struggling betwen two dunghills; it rolls along its muddy stream in sloth and fatness; its banks .are steep, filthy and dark; by these alone its waters are directed ;by these their ebb and flow must be regulated ; and, beyond these, tkay never can wander.. He cannot think for himself, his rulers save him the trouble ; by their fiat he is ruled, by their frowns he is moved, and, on their will, hang his destiny. If the Almighty has infused into him a rational principle, he can scarcely exercise it.— It is, by his cunning, not by his reason, that his wishes and his wants are provided. The despotism,' under which he moves, presses and clogs every thing around him; it narrows his views ;it gives him his prejudices, and the clanking of its manacles ever dins in his ears; he has no stimulus for exertion; no reward for improvement. Bound down to one dark and lowly path, it is here he delves his weary way, and here alone he must tread, where his lather has trodden before him.

No less enslaved is the poor Russ, by the rites of his religion. This the traveller cannot hut immediately remark ; of this he will he constantly put in mind ; this is the general veil which he will see wraped around almost every object. and under which alone he can get a real insight into its true colours. It is with his idols and his saints \ that the Russ hols communion: with these he is domesticated ; to these headdresses himself in all his troubles. Thesу are the objects of his constant solicitude, and hereon hangs the interest of his concerns, whether spiritual or temporal. To them his morning hours are devoted; with them his vespers are passed, and, without their invocation the business of the day cannot go on. Not more idly play the sunbeams around his drifting snows than does the light of reform over his benighted soul. All is dark and dreary; his spirit of devotion is cold and cheerless ; it cannot stray beyond himself; it cannot touch his fellow-man, and, if once the warmth of humanity can draw towards him its cheering ray, the spell of his soul, like the Demophoon of old, will shiver at the spark and blot it out for ever.
Tags: русская жизнь, русская история
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