Expectation for Subservience: Man Versus Animal in Selected Pieces

For this week’s blog post, I would like to pay close attention to the strong sense of subservience between animal towards man in various selections of poetry by Nikolai Zabolotsky, three anonymous fairytales, and the literary artwork of Ivan Bilibin. To begin, both of Zabolotsky’s poems “In This Birch Wood” and “The Forest Lodge” feature extensive characterization regarding animals, or “creature[s],” in regard to their human superiors. While “In This Birch Wood” speaks mostly on the interactions of men at war, and their environment, there is an instance where Zabolotsky directly intersects the narratives of man and animal: he states that in early morning, orioles sit outside their “human[s’] door[s],” and “sing matins virtuous and poor.” (“In This Birch Wood” 13-14). In response, “soldiers and men [are] still,” almost unamused by the very birds that provide them morning songs (15). Yet, when an “atomic explosion” echoes through this war-scene, man inquires why the bird goes quiet, as if there exists an expectation for the birds to serve man unconditionally (16,21). To continue, a similar expectation of servitude is communicated in Zabolotsky’s “Forest-Lodge” when a “shaggy creature” creeps up to an old man’s door in the middle of a rainstorm (“Forest-Lodge” 16). In response to site of the old man, the inhuman form becomes startled and “flees”—which is “just as any other might have done,” according to Zabolotsky (17). In both poems, there is an unspoken superiority occupied by man when confronted by animal. In “…Birch Wood,” the orioles are expected to sing routinely, and are interrogated when failing to perform, whereas in “Forest-Lodge,” the creature is expected to flee. Note this sense of expectation that exists for animal towards man, and how it distinctly characterizes animal versus man.

Furthermore, if we look at the fairy-tales “Prince Ivan and the Grey Wolf” and “Vasilisa the Beautiful,” we similarly witness the subservient relationship between animal and man, yet through longer and more developed discourses. First, the Grey Wolf completely ravages Ivan’s horse in “Prince Ivan and the Grey Wolf,” leaving “nothing but bones, picked clean” (“Prince Ivan and the Grey Wolf” 22). In response to Ivan’s dismay, the Grey Wolf graciously offers to right his wrongs, and thus assist Ivan in finding and retrieving the Fire-Bird. Even when Ivan continuously ignores the suggestions of the Grey Wolf, such as to leave the golden cage and bejeweled bridle, the Grey Wolf remains steadfast in his promise to find Ivan the Fire-Bird. In fact, there are various instances when the Grey Wolf sacrifices his own safety, simply to safeguard Ivan’s desires to keep both the Golden Mane and Yelena the Fair. For example, Grey Wolf “turn[s] a somersault, and [is] at once changed into Yelena the Fair” in order to disguise himself as sacrifice for Tsar Kusman (27). Later, the Grey Wolf again “turn[s] a somersault” and transforms into the Golden Mane to appease Tsar Afron, as well (28). As readers, we get this image of the Grey Wolf jumping head-over-heels (i.e. a somersault) in attempts to please Ivan (man). Note, however, that this is not the only fairy-tale that features this uncontested desire to please man: the small doll inherited by Vasilisa from her mother in “Vasilisa the Beautiful” ultimately channels a commandeering energy in order to save Vasilisa from Baba-Yaga. This doll invokes the help of “flocks and flocks” of birds to come and “pick over millet seed by seed” until dawn, in order to protect Vasilisa from the wrath of her capturer (“Vasilisa the Beautiful” 12). Note that gratitude for the birds and their assistance is never expressed; the birds and their services are simply expected. Similarly, this sense of expectation is likewise suggested in the artwork of Ivan Bilibin— in his pieces entitled “The Black Horseman” and “The Red Horseman,” he utilizes strong facial features and bright colors on and around the horses, which could perhaps communicate an exuberance to serve the men who ride them. Clearly, expectation is present in the fairy-tales— its presence so strong that as viewers, we trace and deduce similar sentiments from related artworks!

Please let me know if any of you also noticed themes of unquestioned subservience between animal and man within these pieces. I would love to hear your feedback!

Forest Otherworldliness and the Fear of the Unknown

Many of the works pertaining to the Russian forest place particular emphasis on the secrecy of the forest and its ability to conceal things from the outside world. The boundary of the forest creates a distinct separation between the real world and one of magic and mystery, which makes it a prime backdrop for numerous fairy tales that take place within a world separate from our own. In “Vasilisa the Beautiful” for example, the forest that conceals the home of the witch Baba-Yaga is described as rising “like a wall,” and obscuring the view of stars and “the bright crescent moon” (7). Upon crossing this boundary into the magical forest world, Vasilisa’s encounter of the three horsemen as well as Baba-Yaga’s talking animals, birch-tree, and gate, highlight the mystery of the forest that the outside viewer is unable to observe. Another element of the forest’s secrecy is the danger associated with it by the outside viewer. While Vasilisa initially expresses fear of the forest because of the horseman and Baba-Yaga, who “gobble[s] people up in the wink of an eye,” she overcomes these fears throughout the course of the story (7,14). Her fear fades away once she has experienced what the forest has hidden from the outside viewer, implying that any danger and fear associated with the forest is a fear of the unknown.

The forest’s secrecy can also be observed in the works of Ilya Repin. His painting “Sumer Landscape” evokes a sense of both danger and adventure as the woman crosses a worn bridge into the overgrown forest. The observer cannot see through the thicket and the presence of a path through the woods is hardly visible, making it unclear as to what the woman will encounter once entering the woods. The painting also ties directly into the idea of the forest as a separate world given that the forest is physically removed from the foreground by a ravine and only connected by a small bridge. Repin’s painting “View of the Village of Vavarin” gives the forest this similar air of secrecy because of the stark contrast between the bright openness of the fields on the left side and the darkness of the dense woods on the right. The buildings on top of the hill behind the fields further this contrast, since it beckons the viewer to wonder what the trees conceal from view. Just like in a magical fairy-tale world, one cannot know what to expect in the depths of the Russian forest.

A Powerful Friend and Dangerous Enemy

Nature in Russian fairy tales plays a dual role: both that of friendly aide and powerful danger. To start with, in “Tsarevich Ivan and Grey Wolf,” two of the mythical beasts (Fire-Bird, and Grey Wolf) play rather willful personalities in which they are literally awesome but eat whatever they care to. Yet differentiating the Grey Wolf from the other beasts is his sentience and omniscience that allows him to talk to and help Ivan and a moral compass that causes him to atone for eating Ivan’s horse by aiding him in his quest.

Contrary to other tales of animals, such as The Big Bad Wolf or The Three Little Pigs, in which the wolf is villainized for being a hungry and dangerous being intent on eating everyone, the Grey Wolf apologizes, “I am sorry” after eating Ivan’s horse (22). The choice of wolf who is not necessarily kind but is honorable and loyal plays with the uniqueness of some of the other Russian poets who find surprisingly good traits in otherwise unlikable seasons and places (in “Autumn” and “My Native Land”). Yet evidence of the wolf’s ‘true nature’ comes through in the tale when he “tore [the other princes] to bits and scattered the bits over the field” (31). The Grey Wolf also has mystical powers, besides those of speech and knowledge, that allow him to shapeshift and bring Ivan back to life. These powers suggest a Russian belief in the might of nature and wild beasts and a certain mystique that the humans do not possess.

Similarly, in “The Hedgehog in the Fog,” all the creatures are personified and can communicate with each other, even those so different as a hedgehog and a bear. The scene in which the bear scolds the hedgehog for being late is the one moment he seems frightening and threatening, despite his friendship with an animal that could be prey. And of course, the ‘villain’ of the story is fog: a natural entity without sentience, but which casts a land known well into a dangerous minefield. And what saves the hedgehog from the river after the fog caused him to lose his way but another kindly animal, suggested to be a water serpent of some kind. Like the Grey Wolf, this serpent is shown to possess a helpful nature unlike those vilified in other stories and yet the most dangerous aspect of either story is a non-human entity.

The leveling of Nature and Man

In many of the reading so far, we’ve seen nature approached as an omnipotent uncontrollable force. The authors have manipulated an Eden like relationship where nature and wilderness are unobtainable and unconquerable. In “Forest-Lodge,” however, Zabolotsky presents man and nature as equal combatting foes, giving more developmental credit to humanity than the previous authors.

In Forest-Lodge Zabolotsky presents multiple moments of conflict between the natural and the domesticated, each of which shows a stalemate between the two forces. The very title of the poem “Forest-Lodge” is an oxymoron, similar to the famous Green Church in the mid-evil poetic epic Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. Forest implies a natural space and wild space, whereas Lodge signifies a manmade artificial dwelling. A “Forest-Lodge” therefore presents a conflict of the two space, man attempting to domesticate a space within the wilderness.

The representation of animals presents further tension. When the man shoots at “a shaggy creature that loomed at the door,” the mysterious animal’s retreat is juxtaposed with descriptions of the man’s cat springing, “from the sill and hid under the stairs” and the man’s dog growling, “despondently.” The domesticated animals who inhabit a developed space react in fear of nature. Much like the space within forest lodge, they too are separated and distant from their natural and wild beginnings.

Development does not just inhabit natural space but also alters it. As the man shoots at the mysterious creature, “a shot rang out,/ shaking the forest to its foundations.” The man’s gunshot is paralleled to the lighting from the storm earlier in the poem, both being destructive forces but one natural and the other manufactured. Just as the lightning could strike the forest lodge and destroy it, so to can the man fire back at nature.

Zabolotsky leveling of natural and development forces is a novel take on the interaction between Russian culture and the environment. As before we had the perspective of humans being belittled by the grand wilderness, Zabolotsky depicts a combative relationship. Zabolotsky’s “Forest-Lodge” forces consideration of the power of nature in developed spaces, and the continual destruction and domestication of natural spaces.

The Setting of Emotions

I found the short stories and poetry, as well as a few of Brodsky’s paintings, to effectively show a connection between emotions and settings. In much of the art and literature, the setting, not just the places but also the seasons, act almost as characters in the story. They are powerful settings, filled with images that evoke strong reactions in the reader.

When you are a kid, summer is a world not forced into the regular confines of adult society. You are content to wander the mysterious world, giving yourself over to impulses and fleeting thoughts. Tolstaya puts it well in On the Golden Porch when she says “In the beginning was the garden. Childhood was a garden. Without end or limit, without borders and fences, in noises and rustling, golden in the sun, pale green in the shade…”. There is also a sense of unpredictability about summer, a strange haze that changes the way you see the world. Like shortly later in the short story when a naked man appears out of the lake.

The Scent of Apples elicits a similar sentiment. Bunin starts the story with feelings familiar to anyone who has experienced the magic of a late summer. “In August there were warm and gentle rains – rains that seemed to fall deliberately to help the sowing.” There is a reason that this sets the tone for the story so well, it is easy to connect to and instantly calming. The narrator keeps describing the idyllic surroundings: “I remember a fresh and quiet morning… The air’s so clear it seems there is no air at all” This aura is also well represented in Isaaak Brodsky’s painting “Golden Autumn”. It is colorful and nostalgic, and though its leaf’s visibly changing colors may signify the end of something, they also imply and remind us of the intensely familiar cycle of a year.

I imagine that this idea of setting and climate evoking strong reactions and connections from the reader in art and literature will prove to be important throughout this course, as it shows that a humans connection to nature can be universal, and that nature can foster feelings that people of all different cultures can share.

Nature and Humankind- Disconnected?

In “Snakes,” Zabolotsky suggests the lack of connection or understanding between humans and nature. First of all, it’s important to note that snakes tend to represent evil in literature; however, this poem depicts an image of several snakes simply sleeping among rocks, under the sun. Even when a “bird cries out above them, or a bug howls boldly past” the snakes do not respond, and carry on in their own, motionless worlds (“Snakes,” 9-10). (Note the atypical usage of animal noise words; crying birds and howling bugs seem to have a more grim connotation than the “singing” or “fluttering” birds depicted in many of the other pastoral poems we read for today.) There is a clear distinction in the different “characters” at play in the poem: the snakes, time, the philosopher, and possibly the “fellow men” (26). It seems that the characters, particularly the snakes, do not interact with the others. The snakes are physically separated from time that “drifts by upon the air” “above them” (16, 15). When the philosopher comes upon the snakes, he asks, “What is their origin, their purpose, can they be justified?” These philosophical questions seem theoretical (even lofty), and the poem reveals nothing about the snakes interacting back with the philosopher. Again, they seem to just exist in their own separate sphere.

The very last four lines are the most interesting of this poem. The philosopher departs, “avoiding his fellow men.” It is unclear whether these men are actually the snakes, or whether they are representing the rest of human society. The first possible interpretation (fellow men as snakes) would suggest that the snakes, characterized as “indigent… enigmatic… weighty images of sleep” are a class of people. The latter interpretation (fellow men as society) would suggest that perhaps the philosopher is trying his best to connect with the snakes, however nature only serves as an oppressor, “stand[ing] above him like a cell”, remaining a mystery to him (28). This last line also further points to the disconnect between nature and the philosopher, because nature still stands above him.

This poem distinguishes itself from most other poems from today’s theme, because I believe it depicts a more negative and complex relationship between man and nature. With more space, I would delve into the connection between this poem and Pasternak’s “The Steppe,” which also portrays some of the negative interpretations of nature, relative to human sin.

The Garden of Disillusionment

I found the use of gardens in both “On the Golden Porch” and “The Scent of Apples” interesting because, although on the surface they seem totally different, they both symbolize disillusionment and emotional turmoil throughout the seasons.

Tolstaya describes childhood as a garden, “without end or limit, without borders and fences, in noises and rustling, golden in the sun, pale green in the shade, a thousand layers thick” (41). Immediately I was struck by the short life of both a garden, especially through a Russian winter, and childhood itself. Though Tolstaya describes Uncle Pasha’s garden as his “Paradise,” the garden is also the setting for many of the familial conflicts with Veronika. This familial conflict begins the disenchantment of visiting Uncle Pasha that grows throughout the entire story.

The first introduction of a garden in the Bunin piece was similarly romantic to that of the Tolstaya: “the big garden, its dry and thinned-out leaves turning golden in the early light. I remember the avenue of maples, the delicate smell of the fallen leaves, and the scent of autumn apples” (3). Though Benin does not initially make implicit what gardens mean to the speaker, their beauty and impact are obvious. The speaker describes his Aunt’s garden as being famous for its “neglected state.” His Aunt’s home is also where he first claims to have felt serfdom, which is revisited when the author oversleeps his hunt.

The contexts of the stories still strike me as very different, but both introduce a nostalgic look at gardens and how the evolving life of a garden can be very similar to the ever-evolving human condition as it relates to changing societal behaviors and growing up.

Childhood, a Garden

I really appreciate how Tolstaya uses the narrator (a young woman), the imagery of a vast, beautiful garden, and Pasha’s affair with Margarita to tie in notions of youthfulness among both life and death. Tolstaya starts off by using the garden as a metaphor for childhood: “In the beginning was the garden. Childhood was a garden. Without end or limit, without borders and fences…”. With this lyrical style of writing, Tolstaya is able to capture the essence of the gardens in his long, detailed descriptions, and bring in the themes of innocence and curiosity characteristic of childhood. Later in the piece, Tolstaya writes of Pasha’s journey to the garden after a day of work, “…hurries to his Garden, his Paradise, where evening peace comes from the lake…”. By capitalizing “Garden” and “Paradise” the reader is forced to acknowledge and respect the role of the garden in Pasha’s life and in this piece more broadly. She later writes of the garden as an experience that transports Pasha “into the land of lost youth, the land of hopes come true…”. This ties back the idea of the youthfulness and the simplicity that the garden brings to even adult life.

The garden – childhood – does not present Pasha with any “borders” and “fences” and has proven to have no “end” or “limit”, as he revisits it each time he returns to the garden. This piece ties in perfectly with the theme for today’s class, The 20th-century nostalgic pastoral. The pastoral is often depicted by a peaceful and beautiful landscape that has been tamed or maintained by humankind. A garden is the perfect example of this. Additionally, there are themes of nostalgia in Tolstaya’s piece as she discusses the beauty of childhood from the perspective of the narrator and of Pasha.

Sleeping Beauty

A striking question posed by several poets in their works, “In early autumn sweetly wistful…,” “Autumn,” and “The Poet,” is whether winter truly symbolizes death or merely a period of dormancy. The implication therein being the forthcoming awakening, with regards to Russia as a landscape and a country awaiting to potential glory. A time many view as a colorful prelude to dark, cold days of misery, Tyutchev marvels at autumn as “sweetly wistful” as though dreaming of and awaiting the future. In the second stanza, the stark images of death and abandonment, “empty fields…where sickles ravaged in the harvest’s ebb” both evokes the ebb and flow of time and the forthcoming bereavement of life in winter. But Tyutchev balances this image with the hopeful evidence of a single living spider. And in the face of flight-prone and fanciful birds that are “afraid of future shadows” (“In early autumn sweetly wistful…,” 9), the divine “heaven pours its azure, pure and warm, / on quietly resting fields and meadows…” (“In early autumn sweetly wistful…,” 11-12). Rather than this imminent and depressing death, the fields are simply restoring themselves in divine emptiness. Somehow hopeful, this poem does not disparage winter, long though Russia faces it, but glories in its peaceful rest and potential to be awoken.

Similarly, Pushkin does not dread the oncoming darkness and cold, but in his poem “Autumn,” he loves “the splendid fading of those days” (“Autumn”, VII:3). In this prolonged Russian winter, he “sleep[s] a lot and sometimes even eat[s]” (“Autumn,” VIII: 4) and yet finds himself awoken with passion and struck with creativity that causes frantic “fingers seek[ing] the pen, and pen–the sheets; /One moment–and the verses flow in time!” (“Autumn,” XI:3-4). Not only is he struck with creative genius, but it flows from him perfectly! Like the bard called forth by the Sun God, Apollo, “The poet’s dormant soul is stirred / And like a mighty eagle wakes.” (“The Poet,” 11-12). These two figures are both awoken with divine inspiration like an eagle soaring over the wonders of the land or a ship breaking the waves with the swiftness of its passage.

Do these poets hold the image of Russia in the backs of their minds, her long and barren winters often mistaken for lifeless? “Even sleeping you astonish me,” proclaims Blok (“Russia,” 1), but what will happen when she awakes?

Feminine Divinity: Environmental Themes and Godly Women in Russian Art and Poetry

In this week’s blog post, I would like to pay close attention to the way that our selected features of Russian art and literature seem to collectively attribute different characteristics and tones for different genders. Specifically, I noticed that many authors attribute softer, warmer, and more forgiving characteristics, colors, and tones to feminine personifications of the Russian environment, or perhaps even to the female figures featured in landscape pieces by painters like Isaak Levitan and Aleksei Savrasov.

To begin, I will start with Mikhail Lermontov’s poem “The Cliff” and comment on the way that Lermontov personifies both the “golden cloud” and the “mountain’s breast” using female-gendered pronouns (Lermontov). Immediately, the reader feels a proposed connection between sky and woman; words like “gold,” “sleeps,” and “aflame” conflate the color gold with notions of the sky and godliness, yielding the image of a cloud that possesses a warm and powerful feminine force (Lermontov). In contrast, Lermontov’s inclusion of “the trace of dew,” which “looms,” and “softly weeps,” implies a colder and less-powerful masculine force (Lermontov). Even though Lermontov never states the dew as weak and puny, he nonetheless references the color gold, woman, and her godliness. Together, these characteristics comprise a theme of feminine divineness, which is further developed in other literature like Alexander Pushkin’s poem “Autumn,” in which Pushkin invokes a “Mother [Nature]” archetype, along with a description of Her “gentle beauty” and “somber blaze” (Pushkin). It is clear that warm, golden colors, and women have an inextricable, heavenly connection.

If we step away from written literature, we see can that this motif of woman, godliness, and gold, appears also in the Russian paintings of Isaak Levitan and Aleksei Savrasov. First, in “Autumn Day in Sokolniki (1879),” Levitan paints a female figure that walks along a golden path, surrounded by golden trees and emerald grasses. A soft blue sky peeking through fluffy, glowing clouds leaves the viewer with a godly regard for the woman of this landscape. In fact, there is a more obvious connection between woman and her “godly regard” in Savrasov’s “View of the Kremlin in Stormy Weather (1851).” The borders of this painting are comprised of unforgiving blues and solemn greys, though at the center of Savrasov’s painting, there is a female figure that nearly glows from the page. As she traverses a path through what seems to be a Russian village, the viewer watches her as the golden wake she leaves behind transfers some of its godly glow into the surrounding landscape. Viewers can witness this woman’s connection with nature transcending the physical environment— a portion of the scene in the wake of her glow is The Kremlin itself. Perhaps Savrasov is making an even greater claim about not only the link between nature, woman, and divinity, but also between The Kremlin, which itself represents the center of Russian government, and a large pillar of Russian culture.

In addition, other various paintings by Levitan and Savrasov also emphasize many of the gendered characteristics noted above. For example, Savrasov’s figure painting entitled “Rainbow (1873)” utilizes a bright variety of colors, specifically through a rainbow that shines down on the central figure— a female that tends the crops around her. Again, a sense of kindness and harmony is enhanced by warm colors, and a godly regard for the woman of this painting is established through her placement at the center of the canvas.

If I had more room in this blog post, I could elaborate on the cold colors and dark shadows comprising the male figures in both Savrasov’s “Winter (1873)”, and his “Spring Thaw, Yaroslavl (1874)”. Perhaps someone else in the class would be interested in responding to this blog post or creating new entry about what seems to be a stern and unforgiving tone surrounding the masculine features of Russia’s environment, specifically within the context of 19th century Russia. Please let me know what you think!