SOURCE: McKenna, Kevin J. “Proverbs and the Empress: The Role of Russian Proverbs in Catherine the Great's All Sorts and Sundries.” In Proverbs and Russian Literature: From Catherine the Great to Alexander Solzhenitsyn, pp. 25-41. Burlington: University of Vermont Press, 1998.

[In this essay, McKenna cites Catherine's facility with employing Russian proverbs as an aspect of her light satirical style in her Spectator-influenced journal Vsiakaia vsiachina.]

One of the many proverbs cited in Vladimir Dal's Proverbs of the Russian People notes that “An ancient proverb is not used for nothing.”¹ The seemingly vague wisdom of this particular saying was no more appreciated than by one of Russia's greatest czars or, in this case, czarinas, i.e. Catherine II or, as we more commonly know her—Catherine the Great. On first impulse one might register surprise that a German-born princess, transplanted to the Russian capital at the tender age of fifteen in preparation for marriage to the future czar, would have any knowledge of Russian proverbs, much less be able to put them to effective use. And yet Catherine would not only learn Russian proverbs, but indeed would come to master them so well that later in life she would employ them in a variety of her literary works—including her comedies, tragedies, historical plays, opera libretti, as well as in her personal memoirs and correspondence with Europe's leading philosophes.² In addition, towards the end of her life Catherine would compile her own collection of proverbs entitled Selected Russian Proverbs (1781-1783).³ While the proverbs listed in this collection relied more on sayings which Catherine herself created, such as “Ever new, rarely right,” “Money can accomplish a great deal, but truth wins out,” rather than genuine folk expressions, the fact remains that Russian proverbial form and wisdom held an enormous attraction for her.

There are, perhaps, two explanations accounting for the young empress's fascination for Russian proverbs and proverbial expressions. The first of these stems from the highly unusual circumstances surrounding her invitation to take up residence in Russia. Born Sophie Auguste Fredericke von Anhalt-Zerbst, Catherine arrived at St. Petersburg in 1744 speaking nary a word of Russian. An unusually bright and talented person, the young princess soon made a point of adjusting to her new home and, specifically, to learning the Russian language. While her mastery of its grammar would always remain awkward and incomplete, Catherine nonetheless demonstrated brilliant aptitude for colloquial Russian speech remembering and correctly using, according to one source, “a multitude of Russian proverbs, sayings, idioms, and characteristic local words and expressions.”⁴ A voracious reader whom circumstances at court afforded prolonged and frequent periods of personal time, she devoured the classics as well as the more recent writings of the philosophes, saving time for Russian works as well.⁵ Well aware of her future status as wife to the Czar of Russia, Catherine accepted the Russian Orthodox faith and dedicated herself to mastering the idiom of her new homeland. Judging from her memoirs and correspondence, we know that she possessed a good ear for the language and took great delight in all its idiomatic nuances.⁶

The second factor explaining Catherine's fondness for peppering her writings with Russian proverbs may arguably and tortuously trace its origins to political necessity. That is, in the wake of the plot that resulted in her husband's murder and her subsequent installation on the Russian throne, Catherine was faced with the task of consolidating her tenuous position as a German-born princess ruling over her Russian subjects. One of the approaches she took to address this situation was to set out upon a course of communicating with her subjects directly and, importantly for Catherine, in their native tongue. The first forum she chose for this public address to her subjects was her Nakaz or Great Instruction to the Legislative Assembly of 1767, which had been charged with the task of achieving administrative reorganization and improvement in social and economic institutions.⁷

As a political treatise describing the nature of government and society, Catherine's Great Instruction proved highly derivative of Montesquieu's “The Spirit of the Laws” (1748). The more than six-hundred paragraphs comprising the Nakaz, for example, set forth the political, economic, religious, and cultural principles which Catherine felt must guide the policies of an enlightened state. The Great Instruction enjoyed tremendous approval and success abroad with Voltaire proclaiming it the finest monument of the century, and Frederick the Great praising its humanitarian spirit and naming Catherine a member of the Berlin Academy. Within four years of its completion, the Nakaz appeared in twenty-four foreign versions in virtually every language of Europe. In spite of this success, however, the Legislative Assembly itself failed to arrive at any significant decisions and was disbanded in 1768. A disillusioned Catherine complained that the Assembly had failed to address itself properly to the issues which she had outlined in her Nakaz. As a result she recognized that in order to exert influence on the nation's thinking and to channel public opinion along the enlightened guidelines she felt crucial for educating her people, she would have to seek another avenue for change.

Having so painfully realized that the improvement of the manners and morals of her nobility could not be implemented on the basis of legislation, Catherine harnessed her fond passion for writing to the novel task of communicating with her subjects in a fictional mode, deciding upon the popular eighteenth-century Addison and Steele Spectator variety of the satirical-moralistic literary journal of manners and morals, which had long enjoyed tremendous success with Russian readers in translations from French and German. Her modified employment of the Spectator model afforded a mild, broad-based satire whose affable tone and grandmotherly persona delivered as much entertainment to her readers as it did moral edification.⁸ The combination of an instructive content, emphasizing lessons on personal behavior, with a tone that is at once both amusing and authoritative arguably explains Catherine's frequent employment of Russian proverbs in her journal, Vsiakaia Vsiachina—All Sorts and Sundries.

Catherine's journal commenced publication on January 6, 1769, appearing on Friday of each week for a total of seventy issues consisting of eight pages each and carrying a total of 176 articles over the course of nearly two years. The journal adopted the conventional letter-to-the-editor format and was often followed by an editorial reply to questions raised therein. The various correspondents—fictional and real—to All Sorts and Sundries made their contributions in prose, although several issues contained poetry. Judging from the quality of the letters, the circle of correspondents was well-educated. While her role as editor and principal inspiration of All Sorts and Sundries would soon become common knowledge among her contemporaries, Catherine understandably sought to hide her involvement in the journal behind the guise of a sagacious, strong-willed matriarch whose grandmotherly persona immediately placed her in a role of authority, from which she could issue useful advice and express her views on a broad range of current social and cultural issues.⁹ Following the lead of Addison and Steele's Spectator, Catherine presented a mix of the humorous and serious in an attempt to attract readers to a consideration of her recipe for moral ideals. The typical structure involved a correspondent introducing some amusing incident that he experienced himself or heard about from an acquaintance and then drawing an appropriate conclusion with respect to Russian morals. This combination of edification and entertainment encouraged Catherine's readers to cultivate a spirit of self-examination as they sought to improve their lives.

In light of Catherine's didactic impulse to communicate her views on contemporary morals in a manner both engaging and entertaining, it is not surprising that she would avail herself throughout the pages of her journal of the kind of pithy and authoritative folk wisdom contained in Russian proverbs. A detailed examination of All Sorts and Sundries reveals the use of thirty-three proverbs which appear on the pages of twenty-five issues of the journal. Further analysis shows that the majority of these proverbs relates to three of the most representative themes appearing on the pages of Catherine's journal: the foibles of worldly women in contemporary Russian society; the manners and mores of the nobility; and a staunch defence of the journal's mild form of Horatian satire.

In general, the picture of Russian women which All Sorts and Sundries paints reflects a very negative, highly critical portrait of pettiness, ignorance, and mean-spiritedness.¹⁰ In issue No. 30, for example, the author of a letter to the editor praises Md. Vsiakaia Vsiachina for taking “today's worldly women” to task regarding their behavior. Having expressed his gratitude for her willingness to address this issue, the writer notes that many women, and his wife in particular, will not appreciate the message. At this point he suddenly decides to think better of associating his views too closely with those of Md. Vsiakaia Vsiachina, citing the proverbial expression that “Vcuzоm piru pоkmili,” that is “One might suffer a hangover on the occasion of someone else's feasting.”¹¹ The clear implication here is that he might well incur his wife's wrath if he is to register too strong an agreement with the editor's views on Russian women. For this reason, he signs his letter “Your most faithful and, if you will allow me to say, nameless servant.”

Md. Vsiakaia Vsiachina avails herself of yet another letter-to-the editor to convey some of her thoughts about contemporary Russian women. The author, a “Mr. Riff-Raff,” has written to inquire which sort of people are more worthy of contempt: those who are esteemed by mistake, or those who judge people for other reasons than their true merits. Apparently by way of example, he cited the case of those Russian women who seek out only the most handsome, prominent, and successful of men. To illustrate her thoughts about such women, Md. Vsiakaia Vsiachina replies with a proverb which in Russian is used to describe a person trying to employ outward appearances to build himself up more than he actually is: “Vоrоnu кaк ni ubiri, kоts i v sокоlinоi pirsi, tо i tut ië uznats mоznо / No matter where you take a crow, even to a hawk's nest, even here you'll recognize it.” The more familiar English expression, “A crow in peacock's feathers,” perhaps more clearly renders the meaning of this proverb.¹²

The portrait of Russian women fares not better in another letter-to-the-editor appearing in issue No. 124. The writer, a Zaporozhets Cossack who according to Cossack tradition is not permitted to marry, describes himself as incapable of understanding the habits of Russian women. By way of example, he describes a recent visit to Russia where he stayed with a family whose wife insisted that he marry one of her friends. He made clear that in compliance with the laws of his people, he could not do so. Refusing to accept his explanation, the wife made his life unbearable with constant fits of anger and slander. Her wrath extended to such a degree that even her husband became a target of her venomous tongue. To protect himself from his wife's constant attacks, we are told that “the poor cuckold” spends long days with his horses in the barn. As a result, the Cossack is made to suffer an even greater amount of verbal abuse. He implores Md. Vsiakaia Vsiachina to advise him since he has no understanding of such women. Her reply suggests that there is nothing that women hate more than defiance and, thus, the Russian wife in question employs her only weapon—her harsh tongue. She then imparts her best advice in the form of a proverb: “Tirpi кazaк, ataman budiss! / Be patient Cossack, and you will become a chieftain!” The implication is that the Cossack must remain steadfast to his native customs in spite of his hostess' abuse. The closest English equivalent would appear to be: “All good things come to those who wait.”¹³

Catherine's enjoyment of Russian proverbs or, perhaps more accurately, her desire to demonstrate her command of them, may account for certain issues containing a multiplicity of proverbs. In No. 134, for example, she employed a total of six proverbs and proverbial expressions in the course of one page. The issue, in fact, commences with the Russian expression, “Sidina v bоrоdu, a bis v ribrо / Gray hair [is getting] into his beard, and a devil into his rib,”¹⁴ which sets the theme for the story Md. Vsiakaia Vsiachina recounts about a widow who outlived two husbands. Left with very little money, the widow cites a series of proverbs (some of which she has manufactured herself) in reflecting on her course of action: “Privycкa dilо viliкоi / Habit is something big;” “Kaк byts? кaк zits? How to exist? How to live?” “V sviti nit niscastsy biz scastsy / There's no happiness in the world without unhappiness;” “Zvirs bizit na lоvцa / The prey is drawn to the hunter;” “Ravnyj zi ravnоgо sysit / Like seeks out like.”¹⁵

The most critical portrait of Russian women depicted on the pages of All Sorts and Sundries appears in issue No. 155, where the young author of a letter-to-the-editor initially observes that a woman's wealth and dowry play too important a role in the selection of a wife. He goes on to describe how he had once shared this opinion with an old man he had met only to have the latter disabuse him of a number of attitudes he held about Russian women of the day. Having been told by the old man that in ancient times it was customary for a wife to bring a man her humbleness, chastity, and obedience, the author inquires whether it is not possible for a modern Russian wife to bring similar qualities to her intended husband. The old man replies that this happens only rarely nowadays, and that it is far more likely that wives will bestow upon their husbands only “horns.” The author expresses curiosity about the term, admitting that he has not yet encountered its use. At this point the old man assures the young author that he is likely to learn the meaning of the term through first hand experience, and then cites a proverb to discourage him from wanting to learn too much about life before he is ready: “Bcë ty kоciss znats, sкоrо sоstarisssy” Literally translated, “If you want to know everything, you'll soon grow old,” this proverb has its closest English equivalent in “Curiosity killed the cat.”¹⁶ When the author expresses skepticism that he will indeed meet with such a misfortune, the old man assures him that the sure way is to marry a trendy girl with bad manners. He then cites another proverb, “Ni radujsy nasid, ni placs pоtiryv / Don't delight in what you have found, nor cry about what you've lost” by way of consoling the author should he indeed one day find himself married to such a woman.¹⁷

Another theme prominently associated with the use of Russian proverbs in Catherine's journal relates to the frequent attention she focused on the question of her people's manners and morals. It is safe to conclude that as a non-Russian, European observer, Catherine must have been shocked by many aspects of the Russian society into which she had moved. From her correspondence with the French philosophes and other members of the European intelligentsia, we know that Catherine strongly disapproved of the ignorance and crudeness of the landed gentry who comprised the bulwark of her political support. She considered this privileged segment of Russian society to be overly prone to superstition and fanaticism and lamented its lack of European breeding and refinement as well as what she considered to be proper manners and behavior. At first glance, it may seem ironic that these rough edges of the nobility and gentry seemed to capture her attention much more so than the truly despicable economic and social status of the vast majority of her subjects—the peasants, who continued to live as Russian serfs. Upon further consideration, though, we must bear in mind Catherine's literary model of Addison and Steele's Spectator which held that the best approach to reforming social institutions was first to reform the individual himself. This is not to say that Catherine slavishly imitated her English models in embracing this outlook, since her autocratic approach to the political and social realities of her realm made it natural for her to look for improvements in society rather than in any transformation of government institutions.

The first issue of All Sorts and Sundries, which employs a Russian proverb to advance Catherine's thoughts on the manners and mores of her people, appears rather early in the journal in the form of a letter-to-the-editor. Its author, a certain Agab Simanukov, asks whether he, too, like so many of his fellow countrymen should give himself over to public grumbling and grousing about all that bothers him. By way of example, he describes how he lives in a society where everyone wears kaftans which, unfortunately, are too expensive for him to buy. Consequently, he feels he is looked down upon by all around him. Furthermore, his fellow citizens regard him as a fool since he is quiet and rarely speaks his mind. The writer requests Md. Vsiakaia Vsiachina's advice: should he squander his money in purchasing a kaftan; and should he follow the lead of others in constant grumbling?

In her grandmotherly persona, Catherine commences her response to Ahab's inquiry by citing the old proverb: “Pо кaΦtanu vstricayt, a pо umu prоvоzayt / In the end it's the intellect that counts, not one's outward appearance” (lit.: “One is received according to his dress, but seen off according to one's intellect”).¹⁸ She further counsels that Ahab should indeed purchase a new kaftan and speak up in society and, if people remain displeased with him in spite of these changes, he should avoid their company. Apparently seeking to address a larger audience, she opines that “to squander, grumble, and slander is not good in any society.”

Reference has already been made to Catherine's preference to avoid the Juvenalian form of personal satire. A good example of the extent to which she adhered to this practice is seen in issue No. 29, where a letter-to-the-editor, signed “Mr. Unknown,” addresses itself rather strongly to the question of corrupt Russian judges. While Catherine regretted the conduct of those judges throughout her empire who took advantage of their positions to line their pockets with the money of those seeking legal advice, she nonetheless refused to acknowledge that the institution of the judiciary was corrupt. In his letter, Mr. Unknown describes the conduct of his father, a former judge, who would “rip the flesh off the bones” of those who appeared before him. According to the son, not only did the judge confiscate the estates of the rich but he deprived the poor, as well, of their possessions. “Mr. Unknown” concludes his letter by asking whether the laws and customs in Russia have changed so that his father is merely acting in accordance with the times? In a rather telling response indicative of Catherine's disinclination to deal with the specifics of corruption in her empire, Md. Vsiakaia Vsiachina replies to “Mr. Unknown” by scolding him for his use of such harsh language (“rip the flesh off the bones …”), particularly as it might offend women. She then observes that exhibiting such a negative attitude toward his father, “Mr. Unknown” should be reminded of the proverb which states that “Kaкоv pоp, taкоv i prikоd / A parish is much like its priest,” i.e. a son who speaks ill of his father is not too unlike a judge who displays poor conduct toward the people who come to him to seek legal recourse.¹⁹

Another proverb used to buttress Catherine's views on improving the behavior of her people appears in No. 60, where Md. Vsiakaia Vsiachina vents her spleen regarding accusations made against her government officials. In responding to a letter signed “Unduly Ragged,” which requests advice on how to deal with corrupt government officials, Catherine's grandmotherly persona retorts that the latter should not be removed from office since not they but the numerous temptations they encounter are to blame for widespread corruption in Russia. By way of reinforcing her message, the kindly grandmother observes that “Nit rоda biz urоda / Every family has its own ugly member,” suggesting that there are worse possibilities than the government “family” having an occasional “black sheep.”²⁰ Rather than focus too harshly on the wrongdoers, she advises that there would be fewer such complaints if people would cease trying to tempt her government officials with bribes. She goes so far as to conclude that “there would be no need to hire government officials if only people would reconcile their grievances with one another rather than involving government officials.”

It is not unusual on the pages of All Sorts and Sundries to encounter a Russian proverb in a letter-to-the-editor to which Md. Vsiakaia Vsiachina replies in kind in her response to the letter's author. One such writer, for example, who signs himself as “Mr. Hapless Complainer,” provides a cheerless description of the life of a young man forced to live in his father's home in patriarchal Russia. He relates the tedium of provincial life and of never being able to get to Moscow unless sent there on his father's business. One day, however, the son senses an opportune moment to request money from his father to buy new clothes. The latter responds with a harsh beating that leaves the son deaf in one ear. Realizing that it would be indecent for a son to bring blame to his father, “Mr. Hapless Complainer” suggests that Md. Vsiakaia Vsiachina should call for laws that would prohibit such conduct. The young man characterizes the hopelessness of his situation in citing the proverb “Cuzay rana niкоmu bоlsna byts ni mоzit / He jests at scars that never felt a wound,” reflecting his view that others should not condemn him for complaining about his father until they, too, have suffered similar maltreatment.²¹ In her response Md. Vsiakaia Vsiachina appears determined not to offend either of the two parties—respectively representing, that is, the elderly patriarchal heads of families and the new, younger generation of better-educated Russian youth. She begins by noting that only a senseless person would not help his son; but, she adds, many sons later in life will become spendthrifts in the absence of a father's strict upbringing and, therefore, a father who raises his son strictly will serve him well by having instilled thriftiness in him as a child. In typical fashion, Catherine's grandmotherly persona concludes her reply by advising him merely to “Prоtygivats nоzкi pо оdizкi / Stretch out your legs only as far as your clothing will allow,” that is, according to the English equivalent of this proverb, to “Live according to your means.”²²

In issue No. 114, Catherine includes yet another proverbial expression to reinforce a strong view that she held regarding many of her Russian subjects. The article takes the form of Md. Vsiakaia Vsiachina's reflections on a comment she heard that people are merely stupid and base and that they perform good acts only when they will be praised by others for doing so or when they will benefit from them. Taking the comment as a point of departure, Md. Vsiakaia Vsiachina moralizes that people should take up good acts not in order to be praised or rewarded by others, but for the deed itself. The truly magnanimous person, in her opinion, performs good deeds just because they are good and therefore will not cease to do them if they come to be despised by others: “All a man has to do to be sure that he is doing the right thing is to remember that he is equal to others and to help others as he is able, to avoid all temptations, and to be determined; then he will know that all obstacles will bring him yet more glory.”²³ Recognizing that not all her readers will understand her advice, much less agree with it, Md. Vsiakaia Vsiachina then cites a Russian proverbial expression to illustrate the attitudes of the opposite kind of person, who holds the opinion that “Pоsli miny kоts trava ni rasti / I live now and don't care about others that will come.”²⁴ The grandmotherly editor wastes no time in describing such people as the “scum of the earth” for not caring about the future of their wives, children, relatives, friends, etc.

By way of a final example demonstrating Catherine's employment of proverbs for purposes of commenting on or underscoring the backwardness of her people's manners and behavior, issue No. 160 of All Sorts and Sundries addresses the question of Russian parents' improper education and upbringing of their children. The writer of this letter, “Policarp Mature,” describes the predicament of a friend of his whose parents, when he was still a child, over-protectively sought to cut him off from the outside world for fear that he would suffer the consequences of evil influences. To add to their misguided zealousness, they employed a foreign tutor who only managed to teach his charge German since this was all that he himself knew. While the boy occasionally would attempt to undertake his own education, the consequence was that he felt overwhelmed by life, finding everything far too difficult and incomprehensible. As a result, Policarp describes how in later years his friend fell hopelessly in love with the simplest and most dullwitted of girls who, to make matters worse, was wholly unattractive. Having sacrificed any degree of common sense, the young man determined that he must marry the girl even though she pays him not the least attention. According to the author, the young man is so lost and overwhelmed by this situation that he can only repeat the Russian proverb, “Odnо sirdцi stradait, a drugоi ni znait / One person's heart suffers, while another's is not even aware.”²⁵ Policarp in turn cites another proverb, “Rybaк rybaкa daliко v plisi vidit / A fisherman can see [another] fisherman across a stretch of water,” whose closest English variant, “It takes one to know one,” reflects his pessimistic attitude regarding both his friend and, more generally, the consequences of inadequate education and upbringing in Russia at the time.²⁶

Turning our attention to the final category of proverbs which Catherine employed in All Sorts and Sundries, we note both their numeric predominance as compared to the above-mentioned categories and, arguably, their service to combating a perception about which she felt vulnerable—her command of the Russian tongue. Thematically, this category relates to those journal numbers which deal with the nature and limits of satire. Adhering to the Horatian strain of satire, which aimed to expose rather than condemn, and which had served so successfully earlier in the century for the Spectator-type journal with its characteristically mild, patronizing tone, Catherine soon felt comfortable enough in her journal to issue an invitation, not unlike a challenge, for other literary journals to follow her example in undertaking the correction of vice through laughter. The response must have exceeded the empress's wildest expectation with the appearance of seven journals within the first year of her invitation. Unlike Catherine's playful tone of Horatian moderation and detachment from the political and social aspects of society, the new journals displayed a far harsher, more specific Juvenalian strain of satire which afforded them ample opportunity to condemn social ills.

As a result, their babushka or grandmother, as they referred to Madame Vsiakaia Vsiachina, frequently found herself in the awkward role of having to reprimand her journalistic offspring for their failure to adhere to the specific limits which she had set on satire. A light-hearted polemical exchange soon ensued between the babushka and her “grandsons.” Several of them made reference to their “grandmother's” feebleness and superciliousness while others excused her for her forgetfulness. Nikolay Novikov, the editor of Trutins or Drone—the best of the satirical-moralistic journals, however, overstepped the limits of friendly banter in making specific references designed both to criticize Catherine and to reveal her direct participation in All Sorts and Sundries. In a letter-to-the-editor of Drone, a Mr. Pravduliubov (Truth-lover) alludes to Madame Vsiakaia Vsiachina's poor command of Russian:

Madame Vsiakaia Vsiachina has become indignant with us, and refers to our ethical judgement as “scolding.” But I see that she is less at fault than I supposed. Her entire fault consists in her not knowing how to express herself in Russian and her inability fully to understand how to write Russian.²⁷

Initially, Catherine's reaction to Drone and its cousins took the form of a stubborn refusal to become embroiled in a polemical debate over specific abuses of Russian social life. Soon, however, she had no choice but to respond to Drone's attacks, since not to do so could lead to further humiliation at the hands of her “grandsons.” Verbal battles between the babushka and her journalistic offspring were waged upon two fields: 1) the issue of how social wrongs should be viewed, and 2) the question of the nature and tone of satire.

Russian proverbs would often appear in those issues where Catherine sought to advance her beliefs with respect to these two questions. In issue No. 110, for example, a letter-to-the-editor signed by Gervasii Koldovalov (“Conjurer”) flatters Md. Vsiakaia Vsiachina with praise for the manner in which she corrects morals and fills her readers with virtue. In a muted reference to Novikov's Drone and the other new journals, Gervasii observes that harsh threats, abuses, and reprimands do not serve to help people, but merely encourage them to camouflage their evil ways. He then calls for her to continue dispensing good advice and admonition to her readers to learn classical languages, to avoid speaking Russian in the German and French style, and to improve their mastery of Russian grammar, conjugations, and declensions. More directly, he turns his thoughts to those publications which seek to scold one another and their readers because such behavior is rude, stupid and offensive. Noting that man's knowledge amounts to little when compared with his ignorance, Gervasii cites the proverb “Viк zivi, viк uciss / You can never learn enough (so keep working at it)” to emphasize his message that such people as Novikov may consider themselves bright and clever, but they still have plenty to learn.²⁸

Rather than addressing Gervasii's comments in typical fashion in a reply to his letter at the end of the number, Catherine devotes her entire next issue to the points which he raised, beginning the issue with the proverb, “Nilszy na vsik ugоdits / You can't please everyone.”²⁹ The meaning of this proverbial opening becomes clear in the text of this issue. Catherine's editorial persona notes with a certain amount of agitation that there are people who read her journal and profess not to like it. Her reaction is that they simply cease reading All Sorts and Sundries. As for those who continue to read her journal and are only able to find fault with it, she opines that they do so because they find reflections of their own faults and shortcomings in it. Md. Vsiakaia Vsiachina states that none of this bothers her in the least, since her sole aim in her journal is to provide moralistic instruction and is not at all surprised that “not everyone will be pleased.”

A bit later in the journal, No. 69, a “Mr. Self-Healer” addresses a letter that reinforces many of Catherine's thoughts regarding the use of satire. He begins by saying that he normally would not have the courage to write, but he recently read something disturbing in another paper and cannot remain silent. Rather than berate its author, however, he has decided to share with Md. Vsiakaia Vsiachina's readers his own prescription for dealing with unpleasant people or situations. Whenever someone slanders or libels him, “Mr. Self-Healer” merely consults his conscience's “primer” to determine whether the accusation is a fair one. If it is, he resolves to alter his behavior; if not, he reasons that the charge does not apply to him and he, therefore, pays it no heed. The author closes his letter with a statement that he does not want to exact any revenge on his slanderer, but merely to remind him that “Kaк кliкnitsy, taк оtкliкnitsy / That which you shout out will echo back in like manner.”³⁰ This reference to the more familiar English version, “As we do unto others, so it is done onto us,” can be viewed as a transparent message to Novikov and his journalistic “cousins” that the insults and rebukes directed toward Catherine or her court officials were unfounded and would not be acknowledged.

In another issue of All Sorts and Sundries, No. 130, Md. Vsiakaia Vsiachina foregoes the normal letter-to-the-editor format and directly begins with her own editorial account about an elegant dinner she recently attended. Later that evening at the home of one of the guests, everyone engaged in complaints and petty observations about the food and other aspects of the evening. One of the guests, however, rebukes the others for their shallow ways and tells them to tend to their own shortcomings and not spend so much time finding blame in others. “Find fault in sins, but not in minor misconduct,” he exclaims, observing that these “critics” themselves might indeed sometime do something foolish or improper. Rather, he chides them, they should “Prоtygivali by nоzкi pо оdizкi / Stretch out [their] legs only so far as their clothes will allow.”³¹ The lesson here may be seen to metaphorically reflect Catherine's own “banquet,” where her journalistic “guests” found more pleasure in ridiculing her minor flaws than in enjoying her invitation to partake in journalistic bantering. This particular proverb marks one of the few instances where Catherine employs the same proverb on more than one occasion on the pages of her journal.

At times Catherine would become so upset with the satiric attacks directed against her journalistic “grandmother” that she would construct fictional letters containing statements or observations that otherwise had little or nothing to do with the subject matter of the letter. In issue No. 132, for example, the author has ostensibly written to address Tatar customs in Russia, but opens his letter instead with a lengthy round of praise for All Sorts and Sundries and an equal amount of rebuke for those who berate it and, therefore, “idolize vice and sin.” The author, who signs himself “The Obedient and Faithful Servant, Stoic,” then utilizes a Russian proverb, “Vits na viss svit i sama ni ugоdit prirоda / Not even nature can satisfy all the world's needs,” to reinforce his view that the criticisms of All Sorts' enemies are not worthy of consideration.³² Having engaged in this opening round of flattery for Catherine's journal and corresponding rebuke for its enemies, the author then launches into a wholly unrelated topic—the matter of Tatar customs in contemporary Russia. There can be little doubt that the author's opening message and its proverbial wisdom are aimed against those of Catherine's “grandsons” who continued to engage in criticism of her journal.

While it is safe to assume that Catherine's pride was wounded and that she had been disappointed that her invitation to correct her people's manners had been rejected by Novikov and the other journalists, she never seemed to lose her sense of humor nor her perspective regarding the playful nature of her journal. In one of its later issues, No. 141, she includes a letter from a writer who opens with a “proverb” that he himself has created: “V pоli siyt psinо i prоsu, na bumagi pisut stiki i prоzu / Into the land corn is sown, onto paper verses and prose are written.”³³ The author, a “Liaxim Vokuzh” (a playful inversion of his real name, Mikhail Zhukov), takes considerable pride in the fact that he was able to create this proverb by himself, and that he had not stolen it from another writer. He considers that even if it sounds unusual, it is new and pleasing to him. He then complains about how painful it is to show one's writing to someone only to have that person respond that there is nothing new in it. Zhukov confides that he once tried to write something new and creative, but whatever he tried had the consequence of “Kuda ni кins, vizdi кlin / No matter where you go, everything is a dead end [wedge].”³⁴

The meaning of Zhukov's letter becomes evident when understood in the light of the criticism Catherine suffered at the pen of Novikov and other journalists with respect to her penchant for borrowing from or imitating articles which originally appeared in Addison and Steele's Spectator. From the beginning it is clear that she never attempted to conceal her fondness for the English model, openly stating, for example, in No. 19 of All Sorts and Sundries that “The English Spectator contains not a little salt, and Vsiakaia Vsiachina resembles it, so why should it also not contain that which is useful to society.”³⁵ It did not take long for the enlightened babushka's “grandchildren” to react to her open preference for the Spectator. In Issue No. 45 of Mikhail Chulkov's I Tо I Së (This and That), the editor sarcastically responded that “All people who do not know other languages are grateful to you.” Novikov's journal Trutins (Drone) similarly criticized Catherine's All Sorts and Sundries for tailoring some of its articles from the Spectator to the Russian scene: “This person scribbles over in his own fashion articles from the famous Spectator and, calling them a product of his own imagination, proclaims, ‘Let us swim, apples.”’³⁶ Catherine did not shrink from such attacks, responding to them directly on the pages of her journal. In No. 37, for example, a discussion between two gentlemen is waged over the issue of originality in All Sort and Sundries. In response to the first man who complains that the journal is no more than a copy of foreign models, the second replies: “Suppose there are borrowings from others in this new journal, but what is important is that they were done well, and tastefully selected.”³⁷ Later in the journal, Catherine's grandmotherly persona asserts: “They will say that we copy translations. We admit that this does happen: it is easy to recognize them; we will dare to say that almost all the translations introduced here are weaker than our own writings.”³⁸

While this polemical debate between Catherine and her journalistic offspring over the issue of literary borrowings would continue for nearly a year and, ultimately, result in the closing of her own as well as her grandsons' journals, perhaps her most fitting response to their criticism appears in issue No. 129, in the form of a proverb contained in a letter from a “Mr. Well-Giver:” “Pcila sоbirait iz gnusnyk mist, a sоstavlyit sladкij / A bee gathers from foul places, but makes a sweet honey.”³⁹ Although her fictional writings would never earn her a reputation for their “sweetness,” as a nonnative speaker of the Russian language Catherine certainly excelled in her ability to cull from a variety of sources in her didactic pursuits—not the least of which was the Russian proverb.

Notes

1. Poslovitsy russkogo naroda (Moskva, 1862), vol. II, p. 627.

2. Catherine's writings are collected in Sochineniia Ekateriny II, 12 vols., ed. A.N. Pypin (St. Petersburg, 1901-1907).

3. Grigorii A. Gukovskii, “The Empress as Writer,” in Catherine the Great. A Profile, ed. Marc Raeff (New York: Hill and Wang, 1972), p. 82. For additional information on Catherine's literary career, see: N. N. Golitsyn, Bibliograficheskii slovar' russkikh pisatel'nits (St. Petersburg, 1889), 91-109; P. P. Pekarskii, Materialy dlia istorii zhurnalnoi deiatel'nosti Ekateriny II (St. Petersburg, 1863); V.P. Stepanov, “Ekaterina II,” Slovar' russkikh pisatelei XVIII veka, vyp. 1, AI (Leningrad, 1988), pp. 291-302; A. G. Cross, “A Royal Blue-Stocking: Catherine the Great's Early Reputation in England as an Authoress,” Gorski vijenac. A Garland of Essays Offered to Professor Elizabeth Mary Hill, ed. R. Auty, L. R. Lewitter, and A. P. Vlasto (Cambridge, Eng.: Cambridge University Press, 1970), pp. 85-99; Kevin J. McKenna, “Catherine the Great,” in Dictionary of Russian Women Writers, ed. Marina Ledkovsky, et. al. (Westport, Connecticut: Greenwood Press), pp. 117-120; Judith Vowles, “The ‘Femininization’ of Russian Literature: Women, Language, and Literature in Eighteenth-Century Russia,” in Women Writers in Russian Literature, ed. Toby W. Clyman, Diana Greene (Westport, Connecticut: Praeger, 1994), pp. 35-60.

4. For a description of Catherine's Russian education, see: Grigorii A. Gukovskii, “Ekaterina II,” in Literatura XVIII veka, Istoriia russkoi literatury, ed. G. A. Gukovskii and V. A. Desnitskii (Moscow-Leningrad: Akademiia Nauk SSSR, Institut literatury Pushkinskii Dom, 1947), IV, part 2, pp. 364-365; John T. Alexander, Catherine the Great. Life and Legend (New York: Oxford University Press, 1989), pp. 17-60.

5. For more information on Catherine's relation to the philosophes, see: Isabel de Madariaga, “Catherine and the Philosophes,” Russia and the West in the Eighteenth Century, ed. A. G. Cross (Newtonville MA: Oriental Research Partners, 1983), pp. 30-52; Leùnce Pingaud, “Catherine II et l'esprit philosophe,” Les Francais en Russie (Paris, 1886), 27-60; Voltaire and Catherine the Great: Selected Correspondence, ed. A. Lentin (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1974).

6. Gukovskii, p. 81.

7. On Catherine's authorship of The Great Instruction, see, Isabel de Madariaga, “The Great Instruction,” in Russia in the Age of Catherine the Great (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1981), pp. 151-63; Documents of Catherine the Great. The Correspondence with Voltaire and the Instruction of 1767 in the English Text of 1768, ed. W. F. Reddaway (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1931).

8. On the influence of the Spectator and other English periodicals on eighteenth-century Russian literature, see: Iu. Levin, “Angliiskaia prosvetitel'-skaia zhurnalistika v russkoi literature XVIII veka,” in Epokha prosveshcheniia: Iz istorii mezhdunarodnykh sviazei russkoi literatury, ed. M. P. Alekseev (Leningrad: Nauka, 1967), pp. 3-109; V. F. Solntsev, “Vsiakaia Vsiachina i Spektator,” in Zhurnal Ministerstva narodnogo Prosvescheniia, 1892 no. I, sect. II, pp. 125-56; Kevin J. McKenna, Catherine the Great's Vsiakaia Vsiachina and the Spectator Tradition of the Satirical Journal of Morals and Manners, Ph.D. dissertation, University of Colorado, 1977.

9. For a more detailed discussion of Catherine's persona, see Kevin J. McKenna, “Empress Behind the Mask: The Persona of Md. Vsiakaia Vsiachina in Catherine the Great's Periodical Essays on Manners and Morals,” Neophilologus, vol. 74 (1990), pp. 1-11.

10. Characteristic themes devoted to women include: their behavior in society (Nos. 119, 124, 132, 133, 137), their misuse of cosmetics (Nos. 128, 131, 139), and conjugal squabbles (Nos. 129, 135).

11. Vsiakaia Vsiachina, p. 87; Vladimir Dal', p. 97.

12. Ibid., p. 296; Constantin. A. Krylov, Russian Proverbs and Sayings in Russian and English, (New York: U.S. Army Russian Institute, 1973), p. 28.

13. Ibid.: p. 331. Dal', vol. I, p. 38.

14. Ibid.; p. 356, Dal', vol. I, p. 277.

15. Ibid.; Dal', vol. I, pp. 47, 371.

16. Ibid., p. 437; Dal', vol. II, p. 69.

17. Ibid., p. 438; Dal', vol. I, p. 41.

18. Ibid., p. 82; Dal', vol. II, p. 168.

19. Ibid., p. 85; Dal', vol. I, p. 136.

20. Ibid., p. 160; vol. I, p. 303.

21. Ibid., p. 230; Dal', vol. II, p. 98.

22. Ibid., p. 232; Krylov, p. 137.

23. Ibid., p. 303.

24. Ibid., p. 304; Dal', vol. II, p. 99.

25. Ibid., p. 458; Dal', vol. II, p. 202.

26. Ibid., Dal', vol. II, p. 227.

27. N. I. Novikov, Satiricheskie zhurnaly N. I. Novikova, ed. P. N. Berkov (Moscow-Leningrad: Akademiia nauk, 1951), No. 5, p. 58.

28. Op. cit., p. 292; Dal', vol. I, p. 225.

29. Ibid., p. 294; Dal', vol. I, p. 316.

30. Ibid., p. 360; Dal', vol.I, p. 181.

31. Ibid., p. 344; Krylov, p. 137.

32. Ibid., p. 351; Dal', vol. I, p. 316.

33. Ibid., p. 377.

34. Ibid; Dal', vol. II, p. 288.

35. Ibid., p. 53.

36. Novikov, p. 120.

37. Op. cit., p. 103.

38. Ibid., p. 295.

39. Ibid., p. 343.