Российско-американские сюжеты
Это карикатура хорошо известна. Ее опубликовал английский журнал Панч 24 октября 1863 года, в те дни, когда русский флот прибыл с дружественным визитом в гавань Нью-Йорка.
Сюжет карикатуры отражает политические новости тех дней: с точки зрения автора рисунка (и сочувствовавшей ему британской публики) Авраам Линкольн и Александр II - два тирана, каждый из которых кроваво подавляет восстания против своего деспотизма, Линкольн - южан, а Александр - поляков (речь о польском восстании 1863 г.). Их рукопожатие, символизирующее визит флота, показывает как "крайности сходятся" (заголовок карикатуры).
На что я раньше, однако, не обращал внимания, так это на то, что рисунок иллюстрировал довольно длинное стихотворение, раскрывающее содержание карикатуры, и опубликованное ниже. Переводить его я не буду, но англоязычные читатели могут оценить:
THE PRESIDENT AND THE CZAR; OR ABRAHAM AND ALEXANDER.
'Formosum pastor Lincoln ardebat Alexim'.
President Abe Czar Alexander loved,
'Mankind's Delight;' nor were his hopes reproved,
Both sovereign potentates, both despots too.
Each with a great rebellion to subdue.
Alike prepared to sing and to reply,
The precious pair thus bragged alternately.
Abe.- Imperial son of Nicholas the Great,
We air in the same fix, I calculate,
You with your Poles, with Southern rebels I,
Who spurn my rule and my revenge defy.
Alex.- Vengeance is mine, old man; see where it falls,
Behold yon hearths laid waste, and ruined walls,
Yon giblets, where the struggling patriot hangs,
Whilst my brave myrmidons enjoy his pangs.
Abe.- I'll show you a considerable sum
Of devastated hearth and ravaged home;
Nor less about the gallows could I say,
Were hanging not a game both sides would play.
Alex.- Wrath on revolted Poland's sons I wreak.
And daughters too; beneath my knout they shriek.
See how from blazing halls the maiden flies,
And faithful Cossacks grasp the screaming prize.
Abe.- In Tennessee, I guess, we've matched them scenes,
And may compare with Warsaw New Orleans.
The Vistula may bear a purplish hue;
As deep a stain has darkened the Yazoo.
Alex.- When my glad eye the telegram enjoys
Of women whipped, and soldiers shooting boys,
I praise De Berg to supplication deaf,
And glorify severe Mouravieff.
Abe.- I, when with their deserts Secesh gals meet
(We, too, know how the saucy sex to treat).
Rejoice in Butler, shame who made them feel,
Extol the gallant Turchin and McNeill.
Alex.- Let mercy grace a feebler monarch's crown,
Zamoyski’s house my cannon battered down.
Captives, unhanged, I spare that they may dwell
Tormented in Siberia's earthly hell.
Abe.- I’ve no Siberia of my own as yet,
But send gainsayers to Fort Lafayette,
And, what I reckon you'll approve of, Sire,
Bade Gilmore upon Charleston hurl Greek fire.
Alex.- On might, with legions armed, I take my stand.
All Europe's outcry shall not stay my hand,
Nor from my clutch shall force the victim rend,
Whilst I’ve one rouble or one life to spend.
Abe.- Bound to this child in bloody sympathies,
Come to my arms, and let us be allies!
We'll squelch John Bull, and scuttle Britain's isle;
But let us go and liquor up meanwhile.
ILL-MATED FLAGS.
Hail, Tartar keels, on New York tide!
Hail, Tartar feet, on New York ground!
Run up the stripes and stars beside
The sable Eagle, clawed and crowned!
Hoist to the broad light of the sun,
Sons of the free, and seed of slaves,
The flag that waved o'er Washington,
The flag that o'er Mouravieff waves!
While Poland groans, through all her fields,
Daughters defiled and slaughtered sons;
While Cossack pikes beat down the shields
Of breasts that naked brave the guns;
While brutal force and bestial lust
High carnival in Warsaw hold,
Till e'en the diplomatic dust
Stirs upon treaty-parchment old.
Think what sad Poland's thoughts must be,
That westward looks for light and aid,
Seeing the right hands of the free.
In the enslavers' lightly laid!
And think how Europe, fain to unweave
Laborious, the web of wrong,
Holds those who thus the heirs receive,
To an inheritance of wrong!
Her flag, though rent, Columbia's pride.
For freedom's flag still dared to claim;
But now by the Black Eagle's side
It seems to droop its folds for shame.
Its stripes full well may fraternize
With Russia's knout that woman scars,
But while it waves o’er such allies,
Blot, oh blot out, the indignant stars!
Сюжет карикатуры отражает политические новости тех дней: с точки зрения автора рисунка (и сочувствовавшей ему британской публики) Авраам Линкольн и Александр II - два тирана, каждый из которых кроваво подавляет восстания против своего деспотизма, Линкольн - южан, а Александр - поляков (речь о польском восстании 1863 г.). Их рукопожатие, символизирующее визит флота, показывает как "крайности сходятся" (заголовок карикатуры).
На что я раньше, однако, не обращал внимания, так это на то, что рисунок иллюстрировал довольно длинное стихотворение, раскрывающее содержание карикатуры, и опубликованное ниже. Переводить его я не буду, но англоязычные читатели могут оценить:
THE PRESIDENT AND THE CZAR; OR ABRAHAM AND ALEXANDER.
'Formosum pastor Lincoln ardebat Alexim'.
President Abe Czar Alexander loved,
'Mankind's Delight;' nor were his hopes reproved,
Both sovereign potentates, both despots too.
Each with a great rebellion to subdue.
Alike prepared to sing and to reply,
The precious pair thus bragged alternately.
Abe.- Imperial son of Nicholas the Great,
We air in the same fix, I calculate,
You with your Poles, with Southern rebels I,
Who spurn my rule and my revenge defy.
Alex.- Vengeance is mine, old man; see where it falls,
Behold yon hearths laid waste, and ruined walls,
Yon giblets, where the struggling patriot hangs,
Whilst my brave myrmidons enjoy his pangs.
Abe.- I'll show you a considerable sum
Of devastated hearth and ravaged home;
Nor less about the gallows could I say,
Were hanging not a game both sides would play.
Alex.- Wrath on revolted Poland's sons I wreak.
And daughters too; beneath my knout they shriek.
See how from blazing halls the maiden flies,
And faithful Cossacks grasp the screaming prize.
Abe.- In Tennessee, I guess, we've matched them scenes,
And may compare with Warsaw New Orleans.
The Vistula may bear a purplish hue;
As deep a stain has darkened the Yazoo.
Alex.- When my glad eye the telegram enjoys
Of women whipped, and soldiers shooting boys,
I praise De Berg to supplication deaf,
And glorify severe Mouravieff.
Abe.- I, when with their deserts Secesh gals meet
(We, too, know how the saucy sex to treat).
Rejoice in Butler, shame who made them feel,
Extol the gallant Turchin and McNeill.
Alex.- Let mercy grace a feebler monarch's crown,
Zamoyski’s house my cannon battered down.
Captives, unhanged, I spare that they may dwell
Tormented in Siberia's earthly hell.
Abe.- I’ve no Siberia of my own as yet,
But send gainsayers to Fort Lafayette,
And, what I reckon you'll approve of, Sire,
Bade Gilmore upon Charleston hurl Greek fire.
Alex.- On might, with legions armed, I take my stand.
All Europe's outcry shall not stay my hand,
Nor from my clutch shall force the victim rend,
Whilst I’ve one rouble or one life to spend.
Abe.- Bound to this child in bloody sympathies,
Come to my arms, and let us be allies!
We'll squelch John Bull, and scuttle Britain's isle;
But let us go and liquor up meanwhile.
ILL-MATED FLAGS.
Hail, Tartar keels, on New York tide!
Hail, Tartar feet, on New York ground!
Run up the stripes and stars beside
The sable Eagle, clawed and crowned!
Hoist to the broad light of the sun,
Sons of the free, and seed of slaves,
The flag that waved o'er Washington,
The flag that o'er Mouravieff waves!
While Poland groans, through all her fields,
Daughters defiled and slaughtered sons;
While Cossack pikes beat down the shields
Of breasts that naked brave the guns;
While brutal force and bestial lust
High carnival in Warsaw hold,
Till e'en the diplomatic dust
Stirs upon treaty-parchment old.
Think what sad Poland's thoughts must be,
That westward looks for light and aid,
Seeing the right hands of the free.
In the enslavers' lightly laid!
And think how Europe, fain to unweave
Laborious, the web of wrong,
Holds those who thus the heirs receive,
To an inheritance of wrong!
Her flag, though rent, Columbia's pride.
For freedom's flag still dared to claim;
But now by the Black Eagle's side
It seems to droop its folds for shame.
Its stripes full well may fraternize
With Russia's knout that woman scars,
But while it waves o’er such allies,
Blot, oh blot out, the indignant stars!