Short Fiction by Nikolai Gogol (primary phonics .TXT) 📕
Description
Nikolai Gogol spent most of his literary career writing short stories, drawing inspiration from his childhood in Ukraine and his adult life in St. Petersburg. His stories are filled with larger than life yet relatable characters and perfectly described locations, and span many genres from historical epics to early horror and surrealism.
His influence on Russian literature cannot be understated: Fyodor Dostoevsky is quoted as saying “We all come out from Gogol’s ‘Overcoat,’ ” (presented here as “The Mantle”) and mentioned him by name in Crime and Punishment; Mikhail Bulgakov stated that “no-one can compare with him,” and Vladimir Nabokov wrote a full biography. Many of the stories in this collection have been adapted for stage and film, including “The Nose” as an opera by Dmitri Shostakovich.
Collected here are all of the public domain translations into English of Gogol’s short stories, in chronological order of the original Russian publication. They were translated by Claud Field, Isabel F. Hapgood, Vizetelly and Company, and George Tolstoy.
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- Author: Nikolai Gogol
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In the city, no one knew that one-half of the Cossacks had gone in pursuit of the Tatars. From the tower of the town hall the sentinel only perceived that a part of the wagons had been dragged into the forest; but it was thought that the Cossacks were preparing an ambush—a view taken by the French engineer also. Meanwhile, the Koschevoi’s words proved not unfounded, for a scarcity of provisions arose in the city. According to a custom of past centuries, the army did not separate as much as was necessary. They tried to make a sortie; but half of those who did so were instantly killed by the Cossacks, and the other half driven back into the city with no results. But the Jews availed themselves of the opportunity to find out everything; whither and why the Zaporozhtzi had departed, and with what leaders, and which particular kuréns, and their number, and how many had remained on the spot, and what they intended to do; in short, within a few minutes all was known in the city.
The besieged took courage, and prepared to offer battle. Taras had already divined it from the noise and movement in the city, and hastened about, making his arrangements, forming his men, and giving orders and instructions. He ranged the kuréns in three camps, surrounding them with the wagons as bulwarks—a formation in which the Zaporozhtzi were invincible—ordered two kuréns into ambush, and drove sharp stakes, broken guns, and fragments of spears into a part of the plain, with a view to forcing the enemy’s cavalry upon it if an opportunity should present itself. When all was done which was necessary, he made a speech to the Cossacks, not for the purpose of encouraging and freshening up their spirits—he knew their souls were strong without that—but simply because he wished to tell them all he had upon his heart.
“I want to tell you, brother gentles, what our brotherhood is. You have heard from your fathers and grandfathers in what honour our land has always been held by all. We made ourselves known to the Greeks, and we took gold from Constantinople, and our cities were luxurious, and we had, too, our temples, and our princes—the princes of the Russian people, our own princes, not Catholic unbelievers. But the Mussulmans took all; all vanished, and we remained defenceless; yea, like a widow after the death of a powerful husband: defenceless was our land as well as ourselves! Such was the time, comrades, when we joined hands in a brotherhood: that is what our fellowship consists in. There is no more sacred brotherhood. The father loves his children, the mother loves her children, the children love their father and mother; but this is not like that, brothers. The wild beast also loves its young. But a man can be related only by similarity of mind and not of blood. There have been brotherhoods in other lands, but never any such brotherhoods as on our Russian soil. It has happened to many of you to be in foreign lands. You look: there are people there also, God’s creatures, too; and you talk with them as with the men of your own country. But when it comes to saying a hearty word—you will see. No! they are sensible people, but not the same; the same kind of people, and yet not the same! No, brothers, to love as the Russian soul loves, is to love not with the mind or anything else, but with all that God has given, all that is within you. Ah!” said Taras, and waved his hand, and wiped his grey head, and twitched his moustache, and then went on: “No, no one else can love in that way! I know that baseness has now made its way into our land. Men care only to have their ricks of grain and hay, and their droves of horses, and that their mead may be safe in their cellars; they adopt, the devil only knows what Mussulman customs. They speak scornfully with their tongues. They care not to speak their real thoughts with their own countrymen. They sell their own things to their own comrades, like soulless creatures in the marketplace. The favour of a foreign king, and not even a king, but the poor favour of a Polish magnate, who beats them on the mouth with his
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