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Poems Real and Ideal

By George Barlow

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SOPHIA PEROVSKAIA.
  
  
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253

SOPHIA PEROVSKAIA.

“She was beautiful. It was not the beauty which dazzles at first sight, but that which fascinates the more, the more it is regarded.

“A blonde, with a pair of blue eyes, serious, and penetrating, under a broad and spacious forehead. A delicate little nose, a charming mouth, which showed, when she smiled, two rows of very fine white teeth.

“It was, however, her countenance as a whole which was the attraction. There was something brisk, vivacious, and at the same time, ingenuous in her rounded face. She was girlhood personified. Notwithstanding her twenty-six years, she seemed scarcely eighteen. A small, slender, and very graceful figure, and a voice as charming, silvery, and sympathetic as could be, heightened this illusion. It became almost a certainty, when she began to laugh, which very often happened. She had the ready laugh of a girl, and laughed with so much heartiness, and so unaffectedly, that she really seemed a young lass of sixteen.

“She gave little thought to her appearance. She dressed in the most modest manner, and perhaps did not even know what dress or ornament was becoming or unbecoming. But she had a passion for neatness, and in this was as punctilious as a Swiss girl.

“She was very fond of children, and was an excellent school-mistress. There was, however, another office that she filled even better; that of nurse. When any of her friends fell ill, Sophia was the first to offer herself for this difficult duty, and she performed that duty with such gentleness, cheerfulness, and patience, that she won the hearts of her patients, for all time.

“Yet this woman, with such an innocent appearance, and with such a sweet and affectionate disposition, was one of the most dreaded members of the Terrorist party.

“It was she who had the direction of the attempt of March 13; it was she who, with a pencil, drew out upon an old envelope the plan of the locality, who assigned to the conspirators their respective posts, and who, upon the fatal morning, remained upon the field of battle, receiving from her sentinels news of the Emperor's movements, and informing the conspirators, by means of a handkerchief, where they were to proceed.

“What Titanic force was concealed under this serene appearance? What qualities did this extraordinary woman possess?

“She united in herself the three forces which of themselves constitute power of the highest order: a profound and vast capacity, an enthusiastic and ardent disposition, and, above all, an iron will.”

“Sophia Perovskaia belonged, like Krapotkine, to the highest aristocracy of Russia. The Perovski are the younger branch of the family of the famous Rasumovsky, the morganatic husband of the Empress Elizabeth, daughter of Peter the Great, who occupied the throne of Russia in the middle of the last century (1741–1762). Her grandfather was Minister of Public Instruction; her father was Governor-General of St. Petersburg; her paternal uncle, the celebrated Count Perovsky, conquered for the Emperor Nicholas a considerable part of Central Asia.

“Such was the family to which this woman belonged who gave such a tremendous blow to Czarism.

“Sophia was born in the year 1854. Her youth was sorrowful. She had a despotic father, and an adored mother, always outraged and humiliated. It was in her home that the germs were developed in her, of that hatred of oppression, and that generous love of the weak and oppressed, which she preserved throughout her whole life.”—

“Underground Russia: Revolutionary Profiles and Sketches from Life.” By Stepniak. Translated from the Italian. London: 1883. Pp. 126, 127, 128.

I

Blue-eyed, fair-haired, and young,—a girl in outward seeming,—
Yet when thy foot did pass amid the meadows dreaming
Of gold-haired spring,
What dreams were thine, O strange heroic woman-spirit?
Dreams of the Freedom which thy land shall yet inherit?
Dreams of vast tyrannies upon the wing?—

270

II

When other maidens dream of love and tender flowers
And lovers' voices sweet within the may-white bowers,
Thou,—thou alone,—
Wast dreaming of the deed that set the world a-wonder
And hurled amid one burst of Revolution's thunder
That world's most mighty monarch from his throne.

III

No blossoms white were thine, but blossoms weird and gory.
Thou, thou alone, didst stand before an Empire's glory
And saidst that it should fall.
High-born and noble, thou didst leave the lordly places
And thou didst wander forth, a light for poor men's faces:
Love, wealth, repose;—thou didst surrender all.

271

IV

And has not yet a song from our free isle resounded,
For thee, for thee,—who, when the tyrant's deeds abounded,
Didst say that these should cease?
Are all our transports saved for old historic cities?
Have we no hearts, no souls, no fiery loveful ditties,
For Russia? Are we chained to Rome and Greece?

V

When thou didst slay and die, were all our singers staggered
At thy vast size of soul and might of hand red-daggered?
That none could say:
“The Empire faced one girl. Yet when the battle ended,
That Empire's cruel life with blood and fire was blended;—
A Czar before a girl's stroke passed away.

272

VI

“Passed like a dream.” O thou who didst the deed tremendous
Design and plot and plan,—whose white hand did defend us
From blood-red hands,—
A bitter sin it was that never a poet hearkened
When o'er thine head the storm of black revenge down-darkened:
That not one song was launched from freer lands!

VII

A bitter sin it was that only English waters
Free-souled thrilled at thy deed; not England's white-souled daughters,
Nor strong-souled English men.
A grievous thing it was that only our sea-waves knew thee
And saw the noble pulse of English blood beat through thee,
Thee,—free-souled still within thy prison-den.

273

VIII

And I,—I would not die without one strong word spoken
Whereby the English chill grim silence may be broken:
I would send unto thee
The greeting of our waves, the love-song of the billows,
And greeting of green leaves of England's oaks and willows,
And our sun's song wherewith he loves our sea.

IX

With more than English force thou didst withstand the tyrant;
And round thee Russia's sons ranged, flame-souled and aspirant,
Thee following hard.
An army thou hast had around thee and behind thee;
Yet couldst thou never indeed for all thy greatness find thee
One true-souled singer, one impassioned bard?

274

X

The stars and seas and winds and flowers and leaves, these know thee.
Then why should human song o'erlook thee and forego thee,
O thou most great,
Who when thy land was dead and never foot came forward
Didst watch the tyrant-wave with deadly crest roll shoreward,
Yet wast content its thundering blow to wait.

XI

An Empire and a world against thee.—Thou a river,
Soft, silver-tongued and sweet,—whereo'er love's branches quiver
And beckon with their bloom.
Love and delights behind, and all the flowers of pleasure;
A life that might yield joy in unknown sumptuous measure;—
Behind thee, rainbow-hopes. In front the tomb.

275

XII

Yet thou didst choose the tomb, and thou didst, river-tender,
Against the foaming tides and cruel soulless splendour
Of sea-wide tyranny
Hurl thy blue rippling waves; and thou didst for a season
Make all that tidal waste of oceanic treason
A conquered tideless helpless prostrate sea.

XIII

One river against the sea! Soon its waves fell upon thee,
And hurled their gathered might of tidal waters on thee
As tigers leap.
Yet thou hadst stemmed the sea! With thy clear river-current
Hadst barred the cruel white waves' multitudinous torrent
And driven them backward on the shuddering deep.

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XIV

A girl of twenty-six! A mere blue-eyed soft flower!
Yet through thee spake the Soul's immeasurable power
That sun nor star
Nor moon can e'er withstand, nor tidal waves oppressive,
Nor crowns that rest on crime, nor rulers retrogressive,
Nor the omnipotent (worm-eaten) Czar.

XV

Through thee the heart of Greece and England's spirit chainless
And souls of all brave men and women's spirits stainless
Spake. Through thy maiden hand
The might of Russia struck. Thou didst not perish truly;
For every day thy deed and fearless death speak newly
To thine, and unto many another land.

277

XVI

This is thy crown of glory and title of remembrance:
That when the Empire's might and its black-eagle-semblance
And all its chains and bars
On one side were arrayed, and on the lonely other
Thou,—thou didst win:—along with Liberty thy brother,
And all thy clear-eyed sister-hosts the stars.
April, 1883.
 

The fact that, when in prison under sentence of death, Sophia Perovskaia wrote to her mother asking that some clean collars and cuffs might be sent to her, is a touching comment upon this statement.