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SPECIAL EDITION
THE LITERATURE OF ALL NATIONS AND ALL AGES
i,A<.A<A**-^4t4*/vZ5>vJX
C. VON BODENHAUSEN, PlNX
LORELEI
Vw .'■ J^I.'fnn <t: <tf ifxma^iji
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THE
Literature of All Nations
AND ALL AGES
HISTORY, CHARACTER, AND INCIDENT
EDITED BY
JULIAN HAWTHORNE JOHN PORTER LAMBERTON
OLIVER H. G. LEIGH JOHN RUSSELL YOUNG
INTRODUCTION BY
JUSTIN McCarthy
Member of Parliament, 1879- iSqq
Author of "HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES." "DEAR LADY DISDAIN." AND OTHER NOVELS «««««««««««
One Itundred Demi-teinte Plates from Paintings by the Ulorld's Best Jfrtists
COMPLETE IN TEN VOLUMES
VOLUME X
CHICAGO NEW YORK MELBOURNE
E.R.DuMONT
1902
Copyright, 1899, By ART LIBRARY PUBLISHING CO.
Copyright, 1900, By E. R. DU MONT
MADE BY
THE WERNER COMPANY
AKRON, OHIO
dii
PAGB
RUSSIAN LITERATURE— PERIOD II 9
The Nineteenth Century 9
N. M. Karamsin II
I. A. Kriloff , 12
The Monarch Cahib 13
Ai^exander Pushkin 14
Tatiana's Retrospect \$
The Lot of Man 17
The Vanity of Life 17
My MonumeJit 18
NlKOI^AI V. GOGOIv 18
The Cossack Mother 20
The Cossack Father 22
Apostrophe to Russia 23
Ivan S. Turgenieff 24
The Nihilist 27
Feodor M. Dostoievsky 37
The Murderer^ s Confession to Sonia 38
Count L. N. Tolstoi 45
Napoleon and the Wounded Russians 48
Levin and the Mowers 52
Annans Visit to Her Son 57
Marie Bashkirtseff 61
Extract from Her fournal 62
ITALIAN LITERATURE— Period VIII • 63
Ugo Foscoi,o 65
Great Men's Monuments ; . . 66
Sii*vio PELI.ICO 68
The Jailer^ s Daughter 68
2 TABI,K OF CONTENTS.
PAGB
ITALIAN LITERATURE— Period VIII. (Continued).
AlyESSANDRO MaNZONI 72
The Death of Napoleon 75
The Interrupted Weddmg 76
ViNCENzo Monti 79
The SouPs AscensioJi 80
GIA.MBATTISTA NlCCOWNI 81
The Foscariiii 82
F. D. GUERRAZZI 84
Beatrice CenU 84
Isabella Orsini 85
Apostrophe to Italy 86
GlACOMO Leopardi 87
The Last Song of Sappho 89
The Villagers' Saturday Night 91
Giuseppe Giusti 92
Student Days . . ^ 92
FRENCH LITERATURE— Period VIII 94
The French Novei, 94
Ai^exandre Dumas 97
The Defence of Bastion St. Gervais 99
Honore de Balzac 109
Eugenie Grandet 112
Ctsar Birotteau's Failure 121
X. B. Saintine o . 125
Picciola 126
Theophh^E Gautier 128
Departure of the Swallows 130
Looking Upward 131
AI.FRED DE MUSSET 132
Venice 133
[nana - . 134
To Ptpa 135
Octave Feuii^let 136
Julia's Bfarriage • 137
GusTAVE F1.AUBERT 141
Salamnibd and the Serpent 142
Erckmann-Chatrian 147
1 he Conscript's Duel 148
TABI.K OF CONTENTS. 3
PAGE
FRENCH LITERATURE— Period VIII. (Continued).
Jui<ES Verne 151
The Bottom of the Sea 152
Al,PHONSE DaUDET 155
Tartarin of Tarascon 157
Guy de Maupassant 161
The Piece of String 162
EMII.E Zoi,A 166
A Fight with Flails 169
IfUDOVic Halevy 174
Abbi Constantin and His Guests I74
GERMAN LITERATURE— PERIOD VI 181
The Nineteenth Century 181
Lyrists of the War of Liberation 183
Sword-Song 184
Song of the Fatherland 1 86
Barbarossa 187
The Soldier's Morning-Soyig 188
The Suabian Poets 189
The Minstrel's Curse 189
The Water Sprite 191
Heinrich Heine 192
Boyhood in Dusseldorf 196
The Lorelei 200
The Sea Hath its Pearls 201
The Pilgrimage to Kevlaar . , 202
The Two Grenadiers 204
Oyily Kiss and Swear No Oath 205
Enfant Perdu 205
The Devil 206
Joseph V. Von Scheffei< . 207
The Baron's Cat Hiddigeigei 208
The Baron's Tobacco Pipe 209
ENGLISH LITERATURE— Period VIII 215
W. M. Thackeray 218
The Mahogany Tree 222
Rawdon Crawley Goes Home 225
4 TABi:,:^ OF CONTKNTS.
PAGS
ENGLISH IvITERATURK— Period VIII. (Continued).
Thomas Cari.yi,e ^ 228
The Attack Upon the Bastille 231
Work 233
Ai^FRED, Lord Tennyson 235
TearSy Idle Tears 239
Of Old Sat Freedom on the Heights . . ; 240
Elaine^ s Letter to Guinevere . . • • 240
From *^ In ATemoiiam^^ 244
Cf'ossing the Bar 245
Robert Browning 246
Pippa^s Song 250
The Lost Leader 250
Incident of the French Camp 251
Rabbi Ben Ezra 252
Mrs. E. B. Browning 254
Cowper's Grave 255
Son7iets from the Portuguese 257
George Eliot 258
Rotnola and Her Father 260
The Choir Invisible 264
Ai^gernon C. Swinburne 265
The Making of Man 267
William Shakespeare , 268
Be7i Jonson 268
In a Garden 269
Matthew Arnoi^d 270
Balder Dead 271
The Rem,nant in America 272
Robert Louis Stevenson 275
The Transformation 277
Rudyard Kipling 281
The Courting of Dinah Shadd 283
AMERICAN LITERATURE— Period IV 287
View of Recent Literature 287
James RusseivL Lowell 289
The Courtin' 291
The Day of Decision 294
A Ruined Life 295
TABLE OF CONTENTS. 5
PAGE
AMERICAN LITERATURE— PEiaoD IV. (Continued).
James Russell Lowell —
Abraham, Lincoln - 296
English View of America 297
Oliver Wendell Holmes ^ 301
The Chambered Nautilus 303
The Three Johns 304
John G. Whittier 306
The Pipes at Lucknow 308
The Mother 309
Skipper Ireson'' s Ride 310
Bayard Taylor • 313
Bedouin Song 315
. The Song of the Camp 316
Helen Hunt Jackson 317
Only an Indiaii Baby . c 318
Edward Everett Hale 322
Death of Philip Nola7i 323
Mark Twain 326
Scotty^s Interview with the Minister 327
Joel Chandler Harris 332
Why the Moons Face is Smutty 332
Walt Whitman 334
In All, Myself 335
The Pcsan of Joy 336
Francis Bret Harte 337
The Luck of Roaring Camp 338
Thomas Bailey Aldrich . , 343
Unguarded Gates 343
William Dean Howells 345
Basil and Isabel on Goat Island 346
Henry James 351
Madame Merle 352
Eugene Field 356
Chaflotte Rooze 357
James Whitcomb Riley 358
A"* Old Played-out Song 358
Beautiful Hands 359
6 TABLS OF CONTENTS.
PA6B
POLISH LITERATURE 361
Henry Sienkiewicz 363
Vinicius atid Lygia 365
BIOGRAPHICAL LIST OF AUTHORS 369
CHRONOLOGICAL VIEW OE LITERATURE 400
Egyptian 400
Assyrian 400
Chinese 400
Indian (Sanskrit) 400
Buddhist 401
Persian » 401
Hebrew 401
Arabian 401
Greek 4°'
Latin 402
CE1.TIC 403
Dutch , . . . . 403
French 403
proven9ai, 403
German 405
ITALIAN 406
Russian 406
Scandinavian 407
Danish 407
Swedish 407
Spanish 407
Portuguese 408
English (including Anglo-Saxon) 408
Scotch 410
American 41 1
ENGLISH POETS LAUREATE 4"
FRENCH ACADEMY (1898) 412
GENERAL INDEX TO ''LITERATURE OF ALL NATIONS," Volumes I.-X 413
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
VOLUME X.
Lorelei C. Von Bodejihausen . Frontispiece
BlANCA CAPEIylyO AND LORENZO . . . A. D. PifielH 86
P1CC101.A A. Salles 127
Salammbo Jules Toulot . . . o 144
Tartarin and The Lion L. A. Jamison 160
Abbe Constantin and His Guests . H. Brispot 176
The Baron and His Pipe F. Schmid-Breitenbach .... 209
Ei^AiNE Bears Her Letter to Guinevere . L. Falero 242
ROMOiyA AND Her Father E. Blair Leighton 263
Art, Song and Literature . . . .J.L.G. Ferris 369
7
RUSSIAN LITERATURE.
Period II.— The Nineteenth Century.
MITATION of French models was the basis of Russian literature until the excesses of the opening of the French Revolution startled the Czarina Catherine II.* Then she prohibited the publication of French books in her domin- ions. But even aside from politics, the French arti- ficial style had begun to pall on the Russians. Von Visin in his comedy, *'The Brigadier," had derided those whose only reading was French romances ; and Kropotof, in his "Funeral Oration of Balabas, My Dog," congratulated that animal on never having read Voltaire ! With the Napo- leonic invasion the national spirit burst forth in the most bitter and violent odes and writings of a "patriot war." In tragedy, Ozerof wrote *' Dmitri Donskoi," recalling the strug- gles of Russia against the Tartars. Krioukovski wrote the tragedy of " Pojarski," the hero of 1612. The poet Zhukovski sang the exploits of the Russians against Napoleon and stirred all anti-Napoleonic Europe with his " Bard in the Camp of the Russian Warriors." Even the childlike Kriloff satirized the French fashions of the Russian court in "The School for Young Ladies" and '*The Milliner's Shop."
The great literary event of the reign (1801-25) of Alexander I. was, however, the " History of Russia " by Nikolai Mik- hailovitch Karamsin. Before Karamsin there was no inspiring picture of Russia's past. Nestor had brought his crude annals
* For Early Russian Literature, see Volume III, , pp. 386-400.
9
lO I.ITERATURK OF AI,I, NATIONS.
down to Alexis Mikhailovitch, father of Peter the Great. Patistcheff, his successor, was rough in style. Faithful pictures of the old barbaric Russia had been given in the *' Russkaia Pravda" (code) of YaroslafF — the Russia of Ivan the Terrible, after the lifting of the Mongolian yoke (1238-1462J ; in Monk Sylvester's "Domostroi" (Household Instruction^ before the Mongols ; and in Vladimir Monomakh's *' Pouchcv nie" (Instruction), a quaint picture of the daily life of ai/ ancient Slavonic prince. But these bald records of barbarism were not attractive. It needed the pen of Karamsin to cast j halo about the old Slav warriors. He admired Ivan the Ter- rible. After the fashion of Scott he put a romantic gloss over the real coarseness. He stirred the imagination and the patriotism of his countrymen. Kollar sounded the slogan of Panslavism. Pushkin became the laureate of Nicholas an<^ Russia's greatest poet ; Gogol mirrored in his Cossack tales the life of Little Russia ; and Ivan TurgeniefF revealed the misery and despair of the serf, and caught the rising mutteir- ings of Nihilism. Ivan Kriloff, the Russian Lafiontaine, supplied his countrymen with distinctively national fables^ abounding in vigorous pictures of Russian life.
Pushkin was succeeded by Mikhail Yurevitch LermoU" toff, known as the poet of the Caucasus, and by Nicholas Nekrasoflf. Lermontoff's first noteworthy ode was an appeal to Russia to avenge the killing of Pushkin in a duel, lest she receive no more poets. His lyrics are wild and varied and beautiful as the scenery of the Caucasus and Georgia. Nekra- soff's realistic poems present the melancholy feature of Rus- sian life. It would not be right to forget Taras Shevchenko, the national poet of Little Russia, whose grave near Kanioff on the Dnieper has been marked with a cairn and cross and has become a patriotic shrine for all the Ukraine. Shevchenko, born a serf, but bought and set free by the poet Zhukovski, not only sang the old days of the Ukraine, but became the voice of the Haidaniaks in their national struggle against the Tsar. Gogol probably had Shevchenko in mind in naming his great Cossack hero Taras Bulba, for Taras is just such a hero as Little Russia's poet loved to celebrate in song. Shevchenko died in 1861.
RUSSIAN LITERATURE. II
The novel, now regarded as the chief form of Russian literature, was first cultivated by Zagoskiu and LazhechnikofF under the Scott-like influence of Karamsin. It has since reached its height of unforgiving and terrible realism in the minutely psychological and morbid stories of Dostoievski, whose "Clime and Punishment" is his masterpiece, and Count Lyof Tolstoi, whose greatest works are "War and Peace," a tale of the Napoleonic War, and "Anna Karenina," an impressive picture of erring womanhood. His " Kreutzer Sonata" was a sensational attack on marriage. In other works he has advocated a return to primitive Christianity and an extreme literal observance of the precepts of Jesus. Nihilism has had its most famous novelist in Stepniak, who lived in exile in England until his death in 1896. Two young Russian women, Marie Bashkirtseff and Sonya Kovalevsky, have attracted attention by their startling revelations of an inner soul life which mirrors the extreme yearnings and woes of modem womanhood.
N. M. KARAMSIN.
The poet Pushkin declared that Karamsin had discovered ancient Russia no less than Columbus discovered America, since he gave the empire its first great history. His European travels, while saturating his literary spirit with the senti- mentalism of the English Sterne and Goethe's "Sorrows of Werther," convinced him that his countrymen could "in Russia alone become good Russians." He struck the keynote of Slavophilism, which Turgenieff was to oppose later, just as Pushkin was to rise from Karamsin' s sentimentalism into a grander romanticism. This sentimentalism was reflected in Karamsin's treatment of his country's history. He idealized Ivan the Terrible as a kind-hearted autocrat. His panegyrical history has been styled "the Epic of Despotism." Choosing Ivan III. and Ivan the Terrible, instead of Peter the Great, as the real founders of Russia's greatness, he pictured the me- diaeval, barbarous Russia in a falsely-enchanting light. In his tale of "Martha, the Mayor's Daughter," he had declared: "Political order can exist only where absolute power has been
12 LITERATURE OP ALL NATIONS.
eBtablished." As Pushkin once wrote, only to have it blotted out by the censor, Karamsin '* admired absolutism and the charms of the knout" (introduced by Ivan). Karamsin divided Russian history arbitrarily, to fit his own conception, into three epochs : Rurik to Ivan III., representing the principle of division ; Ivan to Peter the Great, representing unity ; Peter to Alexander I., representing regeneration of social life. But though utterly wrong in his philosophy of history, he painted its external aspects with an eloquent pencil. His portraits of the old Russians are magnificent, and his battle-pictures — such as the Field of Koulikovo, and the Taking of Kazan — are thrilling.
Nikolai Mikhailovich Karamsin was born in 1766, and lived from the first years of Catherine's reign to the death of his patron, Alexander I. He died in the imperial palace, having brought the eleventh volume of his History down to the accession of Michael Romanoff, in 161 3. Muravieff had made him Court historigrapher. His melodramatic History has been since displaced by the greater works of more scien- tific historians.
I. A. KRILOFF.
To Ivan Andreevitch Kriloff properly belongs the surname of the Russian Lafontaine. Not only was he a born fabulist, whose fables are on every Russian's lips, but he was strangely like Lafontaine in his simple-hearted nature, his careless life, and his uncouth personality. A tutor to the children of Prince Galitzin, and under that noble's protection in the middle part of his life, he was, in his childhood, the care of a poor, illiterate widow, whose father had fought against the Cossack Pougatcheff. During these early days the young Ivan was always strolling about the wharves, among the markets, and through the streets of his native Moscow, and on these roam- ings he stored his mind with the familiar idioms, the humor- ous scenes, the Russian spirit, all of which is so strikingly conspicuous in his fables. Poverty drove him to journalism and dramatic writing, but in 1809, when he was forty-five years old, he published his first * ' Fables, ' ' twenty-three in number. His very first — " The Oak and the Reed" — was a
RUSSIAN LITERATURE. 1 3
translation from Lafontaine. Before his death he had written one hundred and ninety-eight, of which one hundred and sixty-one were of his own invention. In 1838, a jubilee festival was celebrated in his honor, and after his death, in 1844, a statue was raised to his memory in the Summer Garden.
The Monarch Cahib.
Cahib was a mighty sovereign, and of course renowned for his wisdom, though he never read nor consulted a book, since books are seldom written by caliphs, and it would have been beneath his dignity to learn from any of lower rank than himself. He patronized literature and science, but in a judicious way; for, by occasionally hanging a few of the learned men of his country, he took care that their number should never become dangerously great: "since they are like candles: let a moderate number burn, and a pleasant light is provided, but have too many, and there is danger of a fire." His palace was furnished with every luxury, and amongst other curiosities could boast of a small but •unique collection of apes, which had been trained to bow and grimace with such elegance, that many of the nobility, in their eagerness to learn graceful manners, did their best to imitate these clever animals, and succeeded so well that it was difficult to decide which made the best courtiers, they or the apes.
Naturally Cahib had in his retinue paid poets, who never failed to turn their verses to good account. One of them, indeed, once wrote a glowing ode in honor of a certain vizier, but, when he came to present his poetical tribute of homage, was informed that the minister had been beheaded early that morning, whereupon he immediately changed the title, and dedicated it to his late patron's enemy and successor; "for odes," as he slily remarked to a friend, "are like silk stock- ings, and can be stretched to fit any foot." When Cahib's poets did not write odes, they indulged in idyllic descriptions of the innocence and charms of shepherd life, and so excited the caliph's curiosity that he resolved with his own eyes to enjoy the sight of rustic felicity. Accordingly one day he set forth, accompanied by two or three wise viziers, and in
14
UTERATURK OF AtX, NATIONS.
trutli found a shepherd sitting beneath a hedge, though he was not playing on an oaten reed, but crunching a morsel of stale bread ; and when the monarch, surprised that he was not being cheered by the company of his sweet Lesbia, in- quired where the shepherdess was, he was told that "she had s:one to town to sell a load of wood and their last fowl in order to buy some food."
There is abundant evidence that in every respect Cahib was the happiest of rulers, and no sovereign could boast of minis- ters more devoted, or less disposed to question the wisdom of his decisions, or contravene any of his fancies or caprices. And the means by which he contrived to surround himself with such pliant and faithful servants were as simple as they were effectual. He did not fail to assemble them on stated occasions in solemn council, and invariably commenced their deliberations by informing them what line of policy he wished to pursue, and then solicited their advice by address- ing them in a speech to the following purport : "Gentlemen, if any one of you desires to express his views on the matter, he is at liberty to speak freely and without restraint, having first received fifty stripes, after which we shall be most happy to listen to what he has to say." In this way the wise Cahib escaped an immense amount of palaver, secured the unanimity of his ministers, and never experienced the annoyance of hearing opinions that were contrary to his own.
AIvKXANDER PUSHKIN
Prince of Russian poets was Alex- ander Pushkin, the laureate of Czar Nicholas. Zhukovski was really the originator of the new Romantic school in poetry, twenty years before this over- shadowing disciple of Byron stepped in and bore off all the laurels. But it needed the griant p:enius of Pushkin to transform the sickly sentimentality of the Russia of the end of the eighteenth century into a more vigorous and more truly national romanticism. He was descended from
RUSSIAN I^ITERATURE. 1 5
an Abyssinian negro, a slave in the seraglio at Constan- tinople, who had been stolen and brought to Russia by a corsair, and then not only adopted, but ennobled by Peter the Great. Pushkin was really proud of his thick lips and crisp curly hair. He was "a drop of Afric blood on Arctic snows." Perhaps this same blood kept him from be- coming truly Russian as Gogol, Turgenieflf, and Tolstoi were, just after him. One has only to compare Pushkin's "Songs of Western Slavs" with Tolstoi's "Cossacks" to appreciate the essential difference of spirit. Pushkin, admired by Pros- per Merimee, did not venture far from the Byronic manner. He had, however, just found his path when he was killed in a self-provoked duel, in the zenith of his fame, at the age of thirty-eight (1837). He may be said to have inspired Gogol and paved the w^ay for him.
Pushkin was but twenty-one years old w^hen he pub- lished his romantic poem " Ruslan and Liudmila," the scene of which was laid at Kieff, and the story of which has been beautifully rendered in opera by Glinka. Vladimir, the ** Bright Sun " of the old legends, shines again. Then, ban- ished, because of a daring "Ode to Liberty," to the sea regions of the Danube and the Crimea, Pushkin sang of the " Foun- tain of Bakhchisarai," the old palace of khans. In '^The Prisoner of the Caucasus " he glorifies the love of a Circassian girl for a captive Russian officer (Pushkin was a general of dragoons himself). He sang gipsy (Tzigani) songs of love and vengeance. On leaving Odessa he wrote a Byronic "Ode to the Sea." In 1825 he gave the Russian stage its first play in Shakespearean style in his tragedy of "Boris Godunoff," the great usurper who ranks with the Pretender Dmitri as a dramatic figure. Mazeppa's treachery is lashed in his " Pol- tava," a narrative poem in which the battle scene of Pultowa is described in glowing colors. He also undertook a history of Pougatcheff's revolt against Catherine, left imfinished, and wrote some prose tales, such as "The Captain's Daughter." But his masterpiece was " Eugene Oneguin " (1837), who was an incarnation of the purposeless, restless Russian nobleman of that day. The hero of the poem flies the court to escape ennui, rejects the passionate love of the countryfied Natalia,
I6 LITERATURE OF ALL NATIONS.
and only learns to love her when she becomes a social queen and it is too late. An "Ode to Napoleon" by Pushkin is inferior to a similar ode by LermontofF, his natural successor, whose poem of " The Demon " is noteworthy.
Tatiana^s Retrospect.
(From "Eugene Oneguin.")
I WAS younger, then, Oneguin,
And it seems to me, I was better then,
And I loved you, — and what was my reward ?
What did I find in your heart ?
What response ? Naught but coldness.
Is it not true that for you
A simple maiden's love was no novelty ?
And now — God ! — my blood runs cold
Bven at the bare remembrance of that icy look,
And the homily you read me. But do not think,
I blame you. In that awful hour
You acted well and honorably ;
You were right in all you said and did ;
And I thank you with all my heart.
But to me, Oneguin, this worldly glare,
This tinsel blaze of an empty life.
My triumphs and successes in the world.
My fashionable home and gay evenings ;
What are these to me? This minute I'd gladly
exchange All this masquerading frippery, All this noisy, vaporish pomp, For the old shelf of books, the wild garden, The poor, humble village home. The spot where first I saw you, Oneguin, Or for the quiet churchyard. Where now a cross and the shade of cypress-tree Mark the grave of poor old nurse. For happiness was so conceivably possible, So nearl}'- within our grasp. But my fate Is now decided. Inconsiderately, It may be, I acted : But with tears and conjuring prayers
RUSSIAN tlTERATURE. X^
My mother entreated me, and for poor Tatiana
All sacrifices were alike ....
I married, and now you must, —
I implore you, — you must now leave me.
I know that in your heart you own
The stern claims of pride and honor.
I love you, why seek to play the hypocrite ?
But I am given to another.
And will forever remain true to him.
The Lot of Man.,
Thk common lot of men awaited him ; The years of youth would quickly pass, The glow of fancy growing cold within him, Till in all he would be changed. Bid adieu to poetry, and take a wife, Live a country life, contented and a cuckold. Wear all day his loose striped dressing-gown, And come to know the frets and woes of life : From his fortieth year feel the twinging pangs
of gout ; Eat, drink, mope, grow fat and weak. Till last scene of all, he dies quietly in his bed. Tended by his wife and children, The village leech and w^hining nurse.
The Vanity of Life.
Vain gift, — gift of chance, O life, why wert thou granted me ? Or why, by fate's mysterious decree, Wert thou foredoomed to sorrow ?
What god, with unfriendly power.
Called me forth from nothingness,
Filled my soul with passion.
And troubled my mind with torturing doubt?
An aimless future lies before me, My heart is dry, my mind is void, My soul is dulled and blighted By the monotony of life's riot.
I8
LITKRATURK OF ALL NATIONS.
My Monument.
I have reared to myself a monument not made with hands, And the feet of many pilgrims shall tread the path to it all smooth, Where, with proud unbending head, it shall tower
Higher than Napoleon's column. No ! I shall not wholly die, the soul that inspires my sacred muse Shall outlive my dust, and shall defy corruption ; And I shall be glorious, whilst in our sublunary sphere
Breathes a single poet to chant his lays.
NIKOIvAI GOGOIy.
Modern Russian realism is traced to Nikolai Vasilie vitch Gogol ( 1 809- 1852). Born in the government of Poltava, his grandfather had been one of those Zaparog- Cossacks whose heroic ex- ploits Gogol was to celebrate in \\ his great epopee of ' ' Taras Bulba." His childhood was fed on the leg- § ends of the Malo-Russians, and in later life he ransacked the memo- ries of all his relatives and friends for these old traditions. Naturally his initial apprenticeship to the romantic phase of Pushkin lasted but a brief time and was quickly cured by the ridicule which greeted his weak German idyll, Hans Knechel Garten, In 1830 appeared the first story of his Cossack series, "Even- ings at the Farm," purporting to be narrated by Rudui Panko (Sandy the little nobleman). This work has been well des- cribed as being "at once modern and archaic, learned and en- thusiastic, mystic and refined — in a word, Russian." The tales are divided into two parts named respectively after the two towns of Didanka and Mirgorod. The former contains the story of "The Fair at Sorotchinsui," of which the devil is hero. Another is a witch tale. The latter included "Old- Time Proprietors" (a delightful provincial picture which
RUSSIAN LITERATURE. 1 9
somewhat foreshadowed Turgenieff's ''Virgin Soil"), and " Taras Bulba," the germ soon after expanded into a wonder- ful romance. "When Gogol set the colossal Taras on his feet," declared Turgenieff, "he revealed genius." The ex- panded tale is a grand masterpiece of Cossack color, spirit and lore. It deals with the Ataman Taras Bulba and his two sons, whom he takes to the Setch camp of the Zaporozhtsui on an island in the Dnieper to make them warriors. Andre deserts to the Poles through love of a Polish sweetheart, meets his father face to face in battle, and is executed by the stern parent. The rigor of these primitive times is stirringly reproduced. The success of this masterpiece led Gogol to plan a History of Little Russia, but he was to be inspired to a greater work. From a comedy, " The Re vizor " (Inspector- General), in which he satirized official cupidity, arrogance and corruption, he ros'e to a powerful satire on all Russia in his weirdly-named romance, "Dead Souls." The hero, Tchit- chikof, is an impecunious adventurer who buys the dead and runaway slaves since the last Russian census, intending to raise a large loan by mortgaging these imaginary human chattels. He journeys from estate to estate in his leather- flapped britchka, accompanied by his stupid lackey Petrushka and his talkative coachman Selifan. Every small proprietor is described in a vivid portrait. The strokes are cruel, but just. There are such psychological and picturesque types as Plushkin, the miser, which stamp themselves indelibly on the memory. Not only are the repellent traits of the owners of serfs portrayed, but the cruelty of the subaltern burmistrs and the corruption of the Russian Tchinoviks. Terrible was the picture Gogol drew of the Russia of his day. He looked to Tzar Nicholas, who had issued a ukaze abolishing serfdom and then had cancelled it under pressure from the nobility, to remedy this grievous situation. But Gogol failed to paint the woes of the serf himself and his innate human nature. Emancipation waited, therefore, for the pen of revelation of Ivan Turgenieflf. As for poor Gogol, who had passed from fantasy and imagination to satire and then to mysticism, his brain finally broke down, and, after burning many pages of his " Dead Souls," he died insane in Italy in 1852. His earlier
20 LITERATURE OF ALt NATIONS.
tales are full of the beauty of the great Russian steppes and the Ukraine nights. There is an appreciable element of savagery in Gogol, relishable to the Russian. His characters are the half-barbarous peasants and Cossack lads of the ham- lets bordering on the infinite steppes.
The Cossack Mother.
(From " Taras Bulba.") BuLBA was soon snoring, and all in the courtyard fol- lowed his example. All who were lying stretched in its different corners began to slumber and snore. The first to fall asleep was the watchman, for he had drunk more than the rest in honor of his master's arrival. The poor mother alone could not sleep. She hung over the pillow of her detc sons, who were lying side by side. She gently smoothed their young dishevelled locks and moistened them with her tears. She watched them long and eagerly, gazing on them with all her soul, yet, though her whole being was absorbed in sight, she could not gaze enough. With her own breast she had nourished them ; she had lovingly tended them and watched their youth ; and now she has them near her, but only for a moment, ' Sons, my dear sons, what fate is in store for you? If I could have you with me but for a little week.' And tears fell down on the wrinkles that disfigured her once handsome face. ... In truth, she was to be pitied, as was every woman in those early times. She would see her husband for two or three days in a year, and then for years together would see and hear nothing of him. And when they did meet, and when they did live together, what kind of life was it that she led? Then she had to endure insults and even blows; no kindness, save a few formal caresses, did she receive ; she had, as it were, no home, and was out of her place in the rough camp of unwedded warriors. She had seen her youth glide by without enjoyment, and her fresh cheeks grew wrinkled before their time. All her love, all her desire, all that is tender and passionate in woman, all was now concentrated in one feeling, that of a mother. And like a bird of the steppe, she feverishly, passionately, tearfully hovered over her children. Her sons, her darling
RUSSIAN UTKRATURE. 21
sons, are to be taken away from her, and it may be she will never see them again. Who can tell, but tiiat in the first battle some Tartar may cut off their heads, and she not even know where to find their corpses, and those dear bodies, for each morsel of which, for each drop of whose blood she would gladly give the world in exchange, be cast away for wild ra- venous birds to tear in pieces? Sobbingly she looked on them, while heavy sleep began to weigh down their eyes, and she thought, 'Ah, perchance, Bulba, when he awakes, will delay his departure for a day or so, and it may be that it was only in his drink he thought to set out so quickly.'
The moon had risen in the heavens, shining down on the yard covered with sleeping Cossacks, on the thick sallows, and on the high grass which had overgrown the palisade that surrounded the court. But the mother still sat beside her dear sons, not once taking her eyes off them, never thinking of sleep. Already the horses, scenting the dawn, had lain down on the grass and ceased to feed; the upper leaves of the sallow began to wave gently, and the wind's murmuring breath softb/ touched the branches beneath. But the mother still sat watchinof till dawn ; she felt no weariness ; she only prayed that the night might not come to an end. The shrill neighing of steeds was to be heard from the steppe, and the red streaks of the rising sun brightly illumined the sky.
Bulba was the first to awake and spring to his feet. He well remembered all that he had ordered the evening before. * Now, lads, no more sleep : it is time to get up and feed the horses. Where is the old woman ? Quick, old woman, get us something to eat, but quick, for we have a long march before us.' Three saddled horses stood before the door of the hut. The Cossacks leaped on their steeds, but when the mother saw that her sons had also mounted, she rushed to the younger, whose traits wore a somewhat tenderer expression, caught his stirrup, clung to his saddle, and with despair in her every feature, refused to free him from her clasp. Two strong Cos- sacks gently loosened her hold, and carried her into the hut. But when they had passed under the gatev/ay, in spite of her age, she flew across the yard -swifter than a wild goat, and with the incredible strength of madness stopped the horse,
22 i^itkrature; of ai,i, nations.
and clasped her son with a wild rapturous embrace. And once more they carried her into the tent.
The Cossack Father.
Andre saw before him nothing, nothing but the terrible figure of his father. *'Well, what are we to do now?" said Taras, looking him full in the face. But Andre could find nothing to answer, and remained silent, his eyes cast down to the ground. "To betray thy faith, to betray thy brothers. Dismount from thy horse, traitor." Obedient as a child, he dismounted, and unconscious of what he did remained stand- ing before Taras. "Stand, do not move," cried Taras: *^ I gave thee life ; I slay thee." And falling back a step, he took his gun from his shoulder. Andre was deadly pale ; his lips moved slowly as he muttered some name ; but it was not the name of his mother, his country, or kin ; it was the name of the beautiful Polish girl. Taras fired. The young man drooped his head, and fell heavily to the ground without uttering a word. The slayer of his son stood and gazed long upon the breathless corpse. His manly face, but now full of power and a fascination no woman could resist, still retained its marvellous beauty ; and his black eyebrows seemed to heighten the pallor of his features. "What a Cossack he might have been," murmured Taras: "so tall his stature, so black his eyebrows, with the countenance of a noble, and an arm strong in battle."
Not long after Taras had thus sternly vindicated the honor of his race, he and Ostap are waylaid and surrounded by a body of Poles. Ivong and desperately they fight, stub- bornly they dispute each inch of ground, to the last they re- fuse to yield ; but what can two efiect against a score ? Taras is struck senseless to the earth, and Ostap is taken prisoner and carried off. The bereaved father awakes only to dis- cover his heavy and irreparable loss ; the days henceforth pass wearily, and he no longer finds pleasure in battle or in war- like sports.
He went into the fields and across the steppes as if to hunt, but his gun hung idly on his shoulder, or with a sor-
RUSSIAN LITERATURE 23
rowful heart he laid it down and sat by the seashore. There with his head sunk low he would remain for hours, moaning all the while, 'Oh, my son, Ostap. Oh, Ostap, my son.' Bright and wide rolled the Black Sea at his feet, the gulls shrieked in the distant reeds, his white hairs glistened like silver, and the large round tears rolled down his furrowed cheeks.
But this agony of uncertainty is too great to bear ; at all cost he will seek out his son, weep for him if dead, embrace him if living. With the assistance of a Jewish spy, named Yankel, he makes his way in disguise to Warsaw, where they arrive only to learn that on the evening of the same day his brave boy is to suffer an ignominious death. He proceeds to the place of execution, takes up his stand in the midst of the crowd, and watches in silence the hideous formalities by which the sharpness of death is made more bitter.
Ostap looked wearily around him. Gracious God, not one kindly look on the upturned faces of that heaving crowd. Had there been but one of his kin there to encourage him. No weak mother with her wailings and lamentations ; no sobbing wife, beating her bosom and tearing her hair ; but a brave man, whose wise word might give him fresh strength and solace. And as he thus thought, his courage failed him, and he cried out, * Father, where art thou? Dost thou not hear me? ' ' I hear, my son,' resounded through the dead silence, and all the thousands of people shuddered at that voice. A party of calvary rode hurriedly about, searching among the crowd that surrounded the scaffold. Yankel turned pale as death, and when the soldiers had riden past, looked furtively to where Taras had been standing, but Taras was no longer there ; no trace of him was left.
Apostrophe to Russia.
Russia, Russia ! My thoughts turn to thee from my won- drous beautiful foreign home, and I seem to see thee once more. Nature has not been lavish in her gifts to thee. No grand views to cheer the eye or inspire the soul with awe; no glorious works of art, no many-windowed cities, with their lofty pal- aces, no castles planted on some precipice, embowered in
24 LITERATURE OF ALL NATIONS.
groves and ivy that clings to the walls, amidst the eternal roar and fcam of waterfalls. No traveler turns back to gaze on high masses of mountain granite, that tower in endless succession above and around him. No distant, far-stretching lines of lofty hills ranging upwards to the bright blue heavens, and of which we catch faint glimpses through dim arches entwined with vine branches, ivy, and myriads of wild roses. All with thee is level, open and monotonous. Thy low-built cities are like tiny dots that indistinctly mark the centre of some vast plain, nor is there aught to win and delight the eye. And yet, what is this inconcei\able force that attracts me to thee? Why do I seem to hear again, and why are my ears filled with the sounds of thy sad songs, as they are wafted along thy valleys and huge plains^ and are carried hither from sea to sea? What is there in that song, which, as it calls and wails, seizes on the heart ? What are those melancholy notes that lull but pierce