ch he was leading, with bad results in many ways.
In Persia, despite his multifarious occupations, and his necessary study
of Oriental languages, Griboyedoff found time to plan his famous comedy
in 1821, and in 1822 he wrote it in Georgia, whither he had been
transferred. But he remodeled and rewrote portions of it, and it was
finished only in 1823, when he spent a year in Moscow, his native city.
When it was entirely ready for acting, he went to St. Petersburg, but
neither his most strenuous efforts, nor his influence in high quarters,
sufficed to secure the censor's permission for its performance on stage,
or to get the requisite license for printing it. But it circulated in
innumerable manuscript copies, and every one was in raptures over it.
Even the glory of Pushkin's "Evgeny Onyegin," which appeared at about
the same time, did not overshadow Griboyedoff's glory. Strange to say,
Pushkin, who had magnified Delvig, Baratynsky, and Yazykoff far above
their merits, and in general, was accustomed to overrate all talent,
whether it belonged to his own friends or to strangers, was extremely
severe on Griboyedoff's comedy, and detected many grave defects in it.

Griboyedoff was greatly irritated by his failure to obtain proper public
recognition of his comedy. He expressed his feelings freely, became more
embittered than ever against mankind in general, and went back to
Georgia, in 1825, where he added to his previous poems, and took part in
the campaign against Persia, in which he rendered great services to the
commander-in-chief. As a reward, he was sent to St. Petersburg (1828),
to present the treaty of peace to the Emperor. He was promptly appointed
minister plenipotentiary to Persia, and on his way thither, in Tiflis,
married a Georgian princess. His stern course of action and his
disregard of certain rooted Oriental customs aroused the priesthood and
the ignorant masses of Teheran against him, and a riot broke out. After
a heroic defense of the legation, all the Russians, including
Griboyedoff, were torn to pieces. His wife had been left behind in
Tabreez and escaped. She buried his remains at a monastery near Tiflis,
in accordance with a wish which he had previously expressed.

There is not much plot to "Woe from Wit." Moltchalin, Famusoff's
secretary, a cold, calculating, fickle young man, has been making love
to Famusoff's only child, an heiress, Sophia, an extremely sentimental
young person. Famusoff rails agains