Taras Bulba and Other Tales .............................................................................................................................1

Nikolai Vasilievich Gogol.......................................................................................................................1

INTRODUCTION...................................................................................................................................1

TARAS BULBA ......................................................................................................................................5

CHAPTER I .............................................................................................................................................6

CHAPTER II ..........................................................................................................................................12

CHAPTER III........................................................................................................................................17

CHAPTER IV........................................................................................................................................21

CHAPTER V.........................................................................................................................................27

CHAPTER VI........................................................................................................................................33

CHAPTER VII .......................................................................................................................................38

CHAPTER VIII.....................................................................................................................................46

CHAPTER IX........................................................................................................................................50

CHAPTER X.........................................................................................................................................57

CHAPTER XI........................................................................................................................................61

CHAPTER XII .......................................................................................................................................67

ST. JOHN'S EVE ...................................................................................................................................70

THE CLOAK .........................................................................................................................................79

HOW THE TWO IVANS QUARRELLED..........................................................................................94

CHAPTER I ...........................................................................................................................................94

CHAPTER II ..........................................................................................................................................96

CHAPTER III......................................................................................................................................103

CHAPTER IV......................................................................................................................................106

CHAPTER V.......................................................................................................................................112

CHAPTER VI......................................................................................................................................115

CHAPTER VII .....................................................................................................................................118

THE MYSTERIOUS PORTRAIT .......................................................................................................123

PART I .................................................................................................................................................123

PART II ................................................................................................................................................140

THE CALASH .....................................................................................................................................148

Russian literature, so full of enigmas, contains no greater creative mystery than Nikolai Vasil'evich Gogol

(18091852), who has done for the Russian novel and Russian prose what Pushkin has done for Russian

poetry. Before these two men came Russian literature can hardly have been said to exist. It was pompous and

effete with pseudoclassicism; foreign influences were strong; in the speech of the upper circles there was an

overfondness for German, French, and English words. Between them the two friends, by force of their great

genius, cleared away the debris which made for sterility and erected in their stead a new structure out of

living Russian words. The spoken word, born of the people, gave soul and wing to literature; only by coming

to earth, the native earth, was it enabled to soar. Coming up from Little Russia, the Ukraine, with Cossack

blood in his veins, Gogol injected his own healthy virus into an effete body, blew his own virile spirit, the

spirit of his race, into its nostrils, and gave the Russian novel its direction to this very day.

More than that. The nomad and romantic in him, troubled and restless with Ukrainian myth, legend, and

song, impressed upon Russian literature, faced with the realities of modern life, a spirit titanic and in clash

with its material, and produced in the mastery of this everyday material, commonly called sordid, a

phantasmagoria intense with beauty. A clue to all Russian realism may be found in a Russian critic's

observation about Gogol: "Seldom has nature created a man so romantic in bent, yet so masterly in portraying

all that is unromantic in life." But this statement does not cover the whole ground, for it is easy to see in

almost all of Gogol's work his "free Cossack soul" trying to break through the shell of sordid today like

some ancient demon, essentially Dionysian. So that his works, true though they are to our life, are at once a

reproach, a protest, and a challenge, ever calling for joy, ancient joy, that is no more with us. And they have

all the joy and sadness of the Ukrainian songs he loved so much. Ukrainian was to Gogol "the language of the

soul," and it was in Ukrainian songs rather than in old chronicles, of which he was not a little contemptuous,

that he read the history of his people. Time and again, in his essays and in his letters to friends, he expresses

his boundless joy in these songs: "O songs, you are my joy and my life! How I love you. What are the

bloodless chronicles I pore over beside those clear, live chronicles! I cannot live without songs; they . . .

reveal everything more and more clearly, oh, how clearly, goneby life and goneby men. . . . The songs of

Little Russia are her everything, her poetry, her history, and her ancestral grave. He who has not penetrated

Indeed, so great was his enthusiasm for his own land that after collecting material for many years, the year

1833 finds him at work on a history of "poor Ukraine," a work planned to take up six volumes; and writing to

a friend at this time he promises to say much in it that has not been said before him. Furthermore, he intended

to follow this work with a universal history in eight volumes with a view to establishing, as far as may be

gathered, Little Russia and the world in proper relation, connecting the two; a quixotic task, surely. A poet,

passionate, religious, loving the heroic, we find him constantly impatient and fuming at the lifeless

chronicles, which leave him cold as he seeks in vain for what he cannot find. "Nowhere," he writes in 1834,

"can I find anything of the time which ought to be richer than any other in events. Here was a people whose

whole existence was passed in activity, and which, even if nature had made it inactive, was compelled to go

forward to great affairs and deeds because of its neighbours, its geographic situation, the constant danger to

its existence. . . . If the Crimeans and the Turks had had a literature I am convinced that no history of an

independent nation in Europe would prove so interesting as that of the Cossacks." Again he complains of the

"withered chronicles"; it is only the wealth of his country's song that encourages him to go on with its history.

Too much a visionary and a poet to be an impartial historian, it is hardly astonishing to note the judgment he

passes on his own work, during that same year, 1834: "My history of Little Russia's past is an extraordinarily

made thing, and it could not be otherwise." The deeper he goes into Little Russia's past the more fanatically

he dreams of Little Russia's future. St. Petersburg wearies him, Moscow awakens no emotion in him, he

yearns for Kieff, the mother of Russian cities, which in his vision he sees becoming "the Russian Athens."

Russian history gives him no pleasure, and he separates it definitely from Ukrainian history. He is "ready to

cast everything aside rather than read Russian history," he writes to Pushkin. During his sevenyear stay in

St. Petersburg (182936) Gogol zealously gathered historical material and, in the words of Professor

Kotlyarevsky, "lived in the dream of becoming the Thucydides of Little Russia." How completely he

disassociated Ukrainia from Northern Russia may be judged by the conspectus of his lectures written in 1832.

He says in it, speaking of the conquest of Southern Russia in the fourteenth century by Prince Guedimin at

the head of his Lithuanian host, still dressed in the skins of wild beasts, still worshipping the ancient fire and

practising pagan rites: "Then Southern Russia, under the mighty protection of Lithuanian princes, completely

separated itself from the North. Every bond between them was broken; two kingdoms were established under

a single nameRussiaone under the Tatar yoke, the other under the same rule with Lithuanians. But

actually they had no relation with one another; different laws, different customs, different aims, different

This same Prince Guedimin freed Kieff from the Tatar yoke. This city had been laid waste by the golden

hordes of Ghengis Khan and hidden for a very long time from the Slavonic chronicler as behind an

impenetrable curtain. A shrewd man, Guedimin appointed a Slavonic prince to rule over the city and

permitted the inhabitants to practise their own faith, Greek Christianity. Prior to the Mongol invasion, which

brought conflagration and ruin, and subjected Russia to a twocentury bondage, cutting her off from Europe,

a state of chaos existed and the separate tribes fought with one another constantly and for the most petty

reasons. Mutual depredations were possible owing to the absence of mountain ranges; there were no natural

barriers against sudden attack. The openness of the steppe made the people warlike. But this very openness

made it possible later for Guedimin's pagan hosts, fresh from the fir forests of what is now White Russia, to

make a clean sweep of the whole country between Lithuania and Poland, and thus give the scattered

princedoms a muchneeded cohesion. In this way Ukrainia was formed. Except for some forests, infested

with bears, the country was one vast plain, marked by an occasional hillock. Whole herds of wild horses and

deer stampeded the country, overgrown with tall grass, while flocks of wild goats wandered among the rocks

of the Dnieper. Apart from the Dnieper, and in some measure the Desna, emptying into it, there were no

navigable rivers and so there was little opportunity for a commercial people. Several tributaries cut across,

but made no real boundary line. Whether you looked to the north towards Russia, to the east towards the

Tatars, to the south towards the Crimean Tatars, to the west towards Poland, everywhere the country bordered

on a field, everywhere on a plain, which left it open to the invader from every side. Had there been here,

suggests Gogol in his introduction to his neverwritten history of Little Russia, if upon one side only, a real

frontier of mountain or sea, the people who settled here might have formed a definite political body. Without

this natural protection it became a land subject to constant attack and despoliation. "There where three hostile

nations came in contact it was manured with bones, wetted with blood. A single Tatar invasion destroyed the

whole labour of the soiltiller; the meadows and the cornfields were trodden down by horses or destroyed by

flame, the lightlybuilt habitations reduced to the ground, the inhabitants scattered or driven off into captivity

together with cattle. It was a land of terror, and for this reason there could develop in it only a warlike people,

strong in its unity and desperate, a people whose whole existence was bound to be trained and confined to

This constant menace, this perpetual pressure of foes on all sides, acted at last like a fierce hammer shaping

and hardening resistance against itself. The fugitive from Poland, the fugitive from the Tatar and the Turk,

homeless, with nothing to lose, their lives ever exposed to danger, forsook their peaceful occupations and

became transformed into a warlike people, known as the Cossacks, whose appearance towards the end of the

thirteenth century or at the beginning of the fourteenth was a remarkable event which possibly alone

(suggests Gogol) prevented any further inroads by the two Mohammedan nations into Europe. The

appearance of the Cossacks was coincident with the appearance in Europe of brotherhoods and

knighthoodorders, and this new race, in spite of its living the life of marauders, in spite of turnings its foes'

tactics upon its foes, was not free of the religious spirit of its time; if it warred for its existence it warred not

less for its faith, which was Greek. Indeed, as the nation grew stronger and became conscious of its strength,

the struggle began to partake something of the nature of a religious war, not alone defensive but aggressive

also, against the unbeliever. While any man was free to join the brotherhood it was obligatory to believe in

the Greek faith. It was this religious unity, blazed into activity by the presence across the borders of

unbelieving nations, that alone indicated the germ of a political body in this gathering of men, who otherwise

lived the audacious lives of a band of highway robbers. "There was, however," says Gogol, "none of the

austerity of the Catholic knight in them; they bound themselves to no vows or fasts; they put no selfrestraint

upon themselves or mortified their flesh, but were indomitable like the rocks of the Dnieper among which

they lived, and in their furious feasts and revels they forgot the whole world. That same intimate brotherhood,

maintained in robber communities, bound them together. They had everything in commonwine, food,

dwelling. A perpetual fear, a perpetual danger, inspired them with a contempt towards life. The Cossack

worried more about a good measure of wine than about his fate. One has to see this denizen of the frontier in

his halfTatar, halfPolish costumewhich so sharply outlined the spirit of the borderlandgalloping in

Asiatic fashion on his horse, now lost in thick grass, now leaping with the speed of a tiger from ambush, or

emerging suddenly from the river or swamp, all clinging with mud, and appearing an image of terror to the

Little by little the community grew and with its growing it began to assume a general character. The

beginning of the sixteenth century found whole villages settled with families, enjoying the protection of the

Cossacks, who exacted certain obligations, chiefly military, so that these settlements bore a military

character. The sword and the plough were friends which fraternised at every settler's. On the other hand,

Gogol tells us, the gay bachelors began to make depredations across the border to sweep down on Tatars'

wives and their daughters and to marry them. "Owing to this comingling, their facial features, so different

from one another's, received a common impress, tending towards the Asiatic. And so there came into being a

nation in faith and place belonging to Europe; on the other hand, in ways of life, customs, and dress quite

Asiatic. It was a nation in which the world's two extremes came in contact; European caution and Asiatic

indifference, niavete and cunning, an intense activity and the greatest laziness and indulgence, an aspiration

to development and perfection, and again a desire to appear indifferent to perfection."

All of Ukraine took on its colour from the Cossack, and if I have drawn largely on Gogol's own account of

the origins of this race, it was because it seemed to me that Gogol's emphasis on the heroic rather than on the

historicalGogol is generally discounted as an historianwould give the reader a proper approach to the

mood in which he created "Taras Bulba," the finest epic in Russian literature. Gogol never wrote either his

history of Little Russia or his universal history. Apart from several brief studies, not always reliable, the net

result of his many years' application to his scholarly projects was this brief epic in prose, Homeric in mood.

The sense of intense living, "living dangerously"to use a phrase of Nietzsche's, the recognition of courage

as the greatest of all virtuesthe God in man, inspired Gogol, living in an age which tended toward grey

tedium, with admiration for his more fortunate forefathers, who lived in "a poetic time, when everything was

won with the sword, when every one in his turn strove to be an active being and not a spectator." Into this

short work he poured all his love of the heroic, all his romanticism, all his poetry, all his joy. Its abundance of

life bears one along like a fastflowing river. And it is not without humour, a calm, detached humour, which,

as the critic Bolinsky puts it, is not there merely "because Gogol has a tendency to see the comic in

Yet "Taras Bulba" was in a sense an accident, just as many other works of great men are accidents. It often

requires a happy combination of circumstances to produce a masterpiece. I have already told in my

introduction to "Dead Souls"[1] how Gogol created his great realistic masterpiece, which was to influence

Russian literature for generations to come, under the influence of models so remote in time or place as "Don

Quixote" or "Pickwick Papers"; and how this combination of influences joined to his own genius produced a

work quite new and original in effect and only remotely reminiscent of the models which have inspired it.

And just as "Dead Souls" might never have been written if "Don Quixote" had not existed, so there is every

reason to believe that "Taras Bulba" could not have been written without the "Odyssey." Once more ancient

fire gave life to new beauty. And yet at the time Gogol could not have had more than a smattering of the

"Odyssey." The magnificent translation made by his friend Zhukovsky had not yet appeared and Gogol, in

spite of his ambition to become a historian, was not equipped as a scholar. But it is evident from his

dithyrambic letter on the appearance of Zhukovsky's version, forming one of the famous series of letters

known as "Correspondence with Friends," that he was better acquainted with the spirit of Homer than any

mere scholar could be. That letter, unfortunately unknown to the English reader, would make every lover of

the classics in this day of their disparagement dance with joy. He describes the "Odyssey" as the forgotten

source of all that is beautiful and harmonious in life, and he greets its appearance in Russian dress at a time

when life is sordid and discordant as a thing inevitable, "cooling" in effect upon a too hectic world. He sees in

its perfect grace, its calm and almost childlike simplicity, a power for individual and general good. "It

combines all the fascination of a fairy tale and all the simple truth of human adventure, holding out the same

allurement to every being, whether he is a noble, a commoner, a merchant, a literate or illiterate person, a

private soldier, a lackey, children of both sexes, beginning at an age when a child begins to love a fairy

taleall might read it or listen to it, without tedium." Every one will draw from it what he most needs. Not

less than upon these he sees its wholesome effect on the creative writer, its refreshing influence on the critic.

But most of all he dwells on its heroic qualities, inseparable to him from what is religious in the "Odyssey";

and, says Gogol, this book contains the idea that a human being, "wherever he might be, whatever pursuit he

might follow, is threatened by many woes, that he must need wrestle with themfor that very purpose was

life given to himthat never for a single instant must he despair, just as Odysseus did not despair, who in

every hard and oppressive moment turned to his own heart, unaware that with this inner scrutiny of himself

he had already said that hidden prayer uttered in a moment of distress by every man having no understanding

whatever of God." Then he goes on to compare the ancient harmony, perfect down to every detail of dress, to

the slightest action, with our slovenliness and confusion and pettiness, a sad resultconsidering our

knowledge of past experience, our possession of superior weapons, our religion given to make us holy and

superior beings. And in conclusion he asks: Is not the "Odyssey" in every sense a deep reproach to our

An understanding of Gogol's point of view gives the key to "Taras Bulba." For in this panoramic canvas of

the Setch, the military brotherhood of the Cossacks, living under open skies, picturesquely and heroically, he

has drawn a picture of his romantic ideal, which if far from perfect at any rate seemed to him preferable to the

grey tedium of a city peopled with government officials. Gogol has written in "Taras Bulba" his own

reproach to the nineteenth century. It is sad and joyous like one of those Ukrainian songs which have helped

to inspire him to write it. And then, as he cut himself off more and more from the world of the past, life

became a sadder and still sadder thing to him; modern life, with all its gigantic pettiness, closed in around

him, he began to write of petty officials and of petty scoundrels, "commonplace heroes" he called them. But

nothing is ever lost in this world. Gogol's romanticism, shut in within himself, finding no outlet, became a

flame. It was a flame of pity. He was like a man walking in hell, pitying. And that was the miracle, the

Evenings on the Farm near the Dikanka, 182931; Mirgorod, 183133; Taras Bulba, 1834; Arabesques

(includes tales, The Portrait and A Madman's Diary), 183135; The Cloak, 1835; The Revizor (The

Inspector General), 1836; Dead Souls, 1842; Correspondence with Friends, 1847; Letters, 1847, 1895, 4

ENGLISH TRANSLATIONS: Cossack Tales (The Night of Christmas Eve, Tarass Boolba), trans. by G.

Tolstoy, 1860; St. John's Eve and Other Stories, trans. by Isabel F. Hapgood, New York, Crowell, 1886;

Taras Bulba: Also St. John's Eve and Other Stories, London, Vizetelly, 1887; Taras Bulba, trans. by B. C.

Baskerville, London, Scott, 1907; The Inspector: a Comedy, Calcutta, 1890; The InspectorGeneral, trans. by

A. A. Sykes, London, Scott, 1892; Revizor, trans. for the Yale Dramatic Association by Max S. Mandell,

New Haven, Conn., 1908; Home Life in Russia (adaptation of Dead Souls), London, Hurst, 1854;

Tchitchikoff's Journey's; or Dead Souls, trans. by Isabel F. Hapgood, New York, Crowell, 1886; Dead Souls,

London, Vizetelly, 1887; Dead Souls, London, Maxwell 1887; Dead Souls, London, Fisher Unwin, 1915;

Dead Souls, London, Everyman's Library (Intro. by John Cournos), 1915; Meditations on the Divine Liturgy,

LIVES, etc.: (Russian) Kotlyarevsky (N. A.), 1903; Shenrok (V. I.), Materials for a Biography, 1892;

"Turn round, my boy! How ridiculous you look! What sort of a priest's cassock have you got on? Does

With such words did old Bulba greet his two sons, who had been absent for their education at the Royal

His sons had but just dismounted from their horses. They were a couple of stout lads who still looked bashful,

as became youths recently released from the seminary. Their firm healthy faces were covered with the first

down of manhood, down which had, as yet, never known a razor. They were greatly discomfited by such a

reception from their father, and stood motionless with eyes fixed upon the ground.

"Stand still, stand still! let me have a good look at you," he continued, turning them around. "How long your

gaberdines are! What gaberdines! There never were such gaberdines in the world before. Just run, one of you!

"Because, although you are my father, if you laugh, by heavens, I will strike you!"

"What kind of son are you? what, strike your father!" exclaimed Taras Bulba, retreating several paces in

"Yes, even my father. I don't stop to consider persons when an insult is in question."

"Well, let it be fisticuffs," said Taras Bulba, turning up his sleeves. "I'll see what sort of a man you are with

And father and son, in lieu of a pleasant greeting after long separation, began to deal each other heavy blows

on ribs, back, and chest, now retreating and looking at each other, now attacking afresh.

"Look, good people! the old man has gone man! he has lost his senses completely!" screamed their pale, ugly,

kindly mother, who was standing on the threshold, and had not yet succeeded in embracing her darling

children. "The children have come home, we have not seen them for over a year; and now he has taken some

"Yes, he fights well," said Bulba, pausing; "well, by heavens!" he continued, rather as if excusing himself,

"although he has never tried his hand at it before, he will make a good Cossack! Now, welcome, son!

embrace me," and father and son began to kiss each other. "Good lad! see that you hit every one as you

pommelled me; don't let any one escape. Nevertheless your clothes are ridiculous all the same. What rope is

this hanging there?And you, you lout, why are you standing there with your hands hanging beside you?"

"What an idea!" said the mother, who had managed in the meantime to embrace her youngest. "Who ever

heard of children fighting their own father? That's enough for the present; the child is young, he has had a

long journey, he is tired." The child was over twenty, and about six feet high. "He ought to rest, and eat

"You are a gabbler!" said Bulba. "Don't listen to your mother, my lad; she is a woman, and knows nothing.

What sort of petting do you need? A clear field and a good horse, that's the kind of petting for you! And do

you see this sword? that's your mother! All the rest people stuff your heads with is rubbish; the academy,

books, primers, philosophy, and all that, I spit upon it all!" Here Bulba added a word which is not used in

print. "But I'll tell you what is best: I'll take you to Zaporozhe[1] this very week. That's where there's science

"And are they only to remain home a week?" said the worn old mother sadly and with tears in her eyes. "The

poor boys will have no chance of looking around, no chance of getting acquainted with the home where they

"Enough, you've howled quite enough, old woman! A Cossack is not born to run around after women. You

would like to hide them both under your petticoat, and sit upon them as a hen sits on eggs. Go, go, and let us

have everything there is on the table in a trice. We don't want any dumplings, honeycakes, poppycakes, or

any other such messes: give us a whole sheep, a goat, mead forty years old, and as much cornbrandy as

possible, not with raisins and all sorts of stuff, but plain scorching cornbrandy, which foams and hisses like

Bulba led his sons into the principal room of the hut; and two pretty servant girls wearing coin necklaces,

who were arranging the apartment, ran out quickly. They were either frightened at the arrival of the young

men, who did not care to be familiar with anyone; or else they merely wanted to keep up their feminine

custom of screaming and rushing away headlong at the sight of a man, and then screening their blushes for

some time with their sleeves. The hut was furnished according to the fashion of that perioda fashion

concerning which hints linger only in the songs and lyrics, no longer sung, alas! in the Ukraine as of yore by

blind old men, to the soft tinkling of the native guitar, to the people thronging round themaccording to the

taste of that warlike and troublous time, of leagues and battles prevailing in the Ukraine after the union.

Everything was cleanly smeared with coloured clay. On the walls hung sabres, huntingwhips, nets for birds,

fishingnets, guns, elaborately carved powderhorns, gilded bits for horses, and tetherropes with silver

plates. The small window had round dull panes, through which it was impossible to see except by opening the

one moveable one. Around the windows and doors red bands were painted. On shelves in one corner stood

jugs, bottles, and flasks of green and blue glass, carved silver cups, and gilded drinking vessels of various

makesVenetian, Turkish, Tscherkessian, which had reached Bulba's cabin by various roads, at third and

fourth hand, a thing common enough in those bold days. There were birchwood benches all around the

room, a huge table under the holy pictures in one corner, and a huge stove covered with particoloured

patterns in relief, with spaces between it and the wall. All this was quite familiar to the two young men, who

were wont to come home every year during the dogdays, since they had no horses, and it was not customary

to allow students to ride afield on horseback. The only distinctive things permitted them were long locks of

hair on the temples, which every Cossack who bore weapons was entitled to pull. It was only at the end of

their course of study that Bulba had sent them a couple of young stallions from his stud.

Bulba, on the occasion of his sons' arrival, ordered all the sotniks or captains of hundreds, and all the officers

of the band who were of any consequence, to be summoned; and when two of them arrived with his old

comrade, the Osaul or subchief, Dmitro Tovkatch, he immediately presented the lads, saying, "See what fine

young fellows they are! I shall send them to the Setch[2] shortly." The guests congratulated Bulba and the

young men, telling them they would do well and that there was no better knowledge for a young man than a

"Come, brothers, seat yourselves, each where he likes best, at the table; come, my sons. First of all, let's take

some cornbrandy," said Bulba. "God bless you! Welcome, lads; you, Ostap, and you, Andrii. God grant that

you may always be successful in war, that you may beat the Musselmans and the Turks and the Tatars; and

that when the Poles undertake any expedition against our faith, you may beat the Poles. Come, clink your

glasses. How now? Is the brandy good? What's cornbrandy in Latin? The Latins were stupid: they did not

know there was such a thing in the world as cornbrandy. What was the name of the man who wrote Latin

verses? I don't know much about reading and writing, so I don't quite know. Wasn't it Horace?"

"What a dad!" thought the elder son Ostap. "The old dog knows everything, but he always pretends the

"I don't believe the archimandrite allowed you so much as a smell of cornbrandy," continued Taras.

"Confess, my boys, they thrashed you well with fresh birchtwigs on your backs and all over your Cossack

bodies; and perhaps, when you grew too sharp, they beat you with whips. And not on Saturday only, I fancy,

"Let them try it know," said Andrii. "Let anybody just touch me, let any Tatar risk it now, and he'll soon learn

"Good, my son, by heavens, good! And when it comes to that, I'll go with you; by heavens, I'll go too! What

should I wait here for? To become a buckwheatreaper and housekeeper, to look after the sheep and swine,

and loaf around with my wife? Away with such nonsense! I am a Cossack; I'll have none of it! What's left but

war? I'll go with you to Zaporozhe to carouse; I'll go, by heavens!" And old Bulba, growing warm by degrees

and finally quite angry, rose from the table, and, assuming a dignified attitude, stamped his foot. "We will go

tomorrow! Wherefore delay? What enemy can we besiege here? What is this hut to us? What do we want

with all these things? What are pots and pans to us?" So saying, he began to knock over the pots and flasks,

The poor old woman, well used to such freaks on the part of her husband, looked sadly on from her seat on

the wallbench. She did not dare say a word; but when she heard the decision which was so terrible for her,

she could not refrain from tears. As she looked at her children, from whom so speedy a separation was

threatened, it is impossible to describe the full force of her speechless grief, which seemed to quiver in her

Bulba was terribly headstrong. He was one of those characters which could only exist in that fierce fifteenth

century, and in that halfnomadic corner of Europe, when the whole of Southern Russia, deserted by its

princes, was laid waste and burned to the quick by pitiless troops of Mongolian robbers; when men deprived

of house and home grew brave there; when, amid conflagrations, threatening neighbours, and eternal terrors,

they settled down, and growing accustomed to looking these things straight in the face, trained themselves

not to know that there was such a thing as fear in the world; when the old, peacable Slav spirit was fired with

warlike flame, and the Cossack state was instituteda free, wild outbreak of Russian natureand when all

the riverbanks, fords, and like suitable places were peopled by Cossacks, whose number no man knew.

Their bold comrades had a right to reply to the Sultan when he asked how many they were, "Who knows? We

are scattered all over the steppes; wherever there is a hillock, there is a Cossack."

It was, in fact, a most remarkable exhibition of Russian strength, forced by dire necessity from the bosom of

the people. In place of the original provinces with their petty towns, in place of the warring and bartering

petty princes ruling in their cities, there arose great colonies, kurens[3], and districts, bound together by one

common danger and hatred against the heathen robbers. The story is well known how their incessant warfare

and restless existence saved Europe from the merciless hordes which threatened to overwhelm her. The

Polish kings, who now found themselves sovereigns, in place of the provincial princes, over these extensive

tracts of territory, fully understood, despite the weakness and remoteness of their own rule, the value of the

Cossacks, and the advantages of the warlike, untrammelled life led by them. They encouraged them and

flattered this disposition of mind. Under their distant rule, the hetmans or chiefs, chosen from among the

Cossacks themselves, redistributed the territory into military districts. It was not a standing army, no one saw

it; but in case of war and general uprising, it required a week, and no more, for every man to appear on

horseback, fully armed, receiving only one ducat from the king; and in two weeks such a force had assembled

as no recruiting officers would ever have been able to collect. When the expedition was ended, the army

dispersed among the fields and meadows and the fords of the Dnieper; each man fished, wrought at his trade,

brewed his beer, and was once more a free Cossack. Their foreign contemporaries rightly marvelled at their

wonderful qualities. There was no handicraft which the Cossack was not expert at: he could distil brandy,

build a waggon, make powder, and do blacksmith's and gunsmith's work, in addition to committing wild

excesses, drinking and carousing as only a Russian canall this he was equal to. Besides the registered

Cossacks, who considered themselves bound to appear in arms in time of war, it was possible to collect at any

time, in case of dire need, a whole army of volunteers. All that was required was for the Osaul or subchief to

traverse the marketplaces and squares of the villages and hamlets, and shout at the top of his voice, as he

stood in his waggon, "Hey, you distillers and beerbrewers! you have brewed enough beer, and lolled on

your stoves, and stuffed your fat carcasses with flour, long enough! Rise, win glory and warlike honours!

You ploughmen, you reapers of buckwheat, you tenders of sheep, you danglers after women, enough of

following the plough, and soiling your yellow shoes in the earth, and courting women, and wasting your

warlike strength! The hour has come to win glory for the Cossacks!" These words were like sparks falling on

dry wood. The husbandman broke his plough; the brewers and distillers threw away their casks and destroyed

their barrels; the mechanics and merchants sent their trade and their shop to the devil, broke pots and

everything else in their homes, and mounted their horses. In short, the Russian character here received a

Taras was one of the band of oldfashioned leaders; he was born for warlike emotions, and was distinguished

for his uprightness of character. At that epoch the influence of Poland had already begun to make itself felt

upon the Russian nobility. Many had adopted Polish customs, and began to display luxury in splendid staffs

of servants, hawks, huntsmen, dinners, and palaces. This was not to Taras's taste. He liked the simple life of

the Cossacks, and quarrelled with those of his comrades who were inclined to the Warsaw party, calling them

serfs of the Polish nobles. Ever on the alert, he regarded himself as the legal protector of the orthodox faith.

He entered despotically into any village where there was a general complaint of oppression by the revenue

farmers and of the addition of fresh taxes on necessaries. He and his Cossacks executed justice, and made it a

rule that in three cases it was absolutely necessary to resort to the sword. Namely, when the commissioners

did not respect the superior officers and stood before them covered; when any one made light of the faith and

did not observe the customs of his ancestors; and, finally, when the enemy were Mussulmans or Turks,

against whom he considered it permissible, in every case, to draw the sword for the glory of Christianity.

Now he rejoiced beforehand at the thought of how he would present himself with his two sons at the Setch,

and say, "See what fine young fellows I have brought you!" how he would introduce them to all his old

comrades, steeled in warfare; how he would observe their first exploits in the sciences of war and of drinking,

which was also regarded as one of the principal warlike qualities. At first he had intended to send them forth

alone; but at the sight of their freshness, stature, and manly personal beauty his martial spirit flamed up and

he resolved to go with them himself the very next day, although there was no necessity for this except his

obstinate selfwill. He began at once to hurry about and give orders; selected horses and trappings for his

sons, looked through the stables and storehouses, and chose servants to accompany them on the morrow. He

delegated his power to Osaul Tovkatch, and gave with it a strict command to appear with his whole force at

the Setch the very instant he should receive a message from him. Although he was jolly, and the effects of his

drinking bout still lingered in his brain, he forgot nothing. He even gave orders that the horses should be

watered, their cribs filled, and that they should be fed with the finest corn; and then he retired, fatigued with

"Now, children, we must sleep, but tomorrow we shall do what God wills. Don't prepare us a bed: we need

Night had but just stole over the heavens, but Bulba always went to bed early. He lay down on a rug and

covered himself with a sheepskin pelisse, for the night air was quite sharp and he liked to lie warm when he

was at home. He was soon snoring, and the whole household speedily followed his example. All snored and

groaned as they lay in different corners. The watchman went to sleep the first of all, he had drunk so much in

The mother alone did not sleep. She bent over the pillow of her beloved sons, as they lay side by side; she

smoothed with a comb their carelessly tangled locks, and moistened them with her tears. She gazed at them

with her whole soul, with every sense; she was wholly merged in the gaze, and yet she could not gaze

enough. She had fed them at her own breast, she had tended them and brought them up; and now to see them

only for an instant! "My sons, my darling sons! what will become of you! what fate awaits you?" she said,

and tears stood in the wrinkles which disfigured her once beautiful face. In truth, she was to be pitied, as was

every woman of that period. She had lived only for a moment of love, only during the first ardour of passion,

only during the first flush of youth; and then her grim betrayer had deserted her for the sword, for his

comrades and his carouses. She saw her husband two or three days in a year, and then, for several years,

heard nothing of him. And when she did see him, when they did live together, what a life was hers! She

endured insult, even blows; she felt caresses bestowed only in pity; she was a misplaced object in that

community of unmarried warriors, upon which wandering Zaporozhe cast a colouring of its own. Her

pleasureless youth flitted by; her ripe cheeks and bosom withered away unkissed and became covered with

premature wrinkles. Love, feeling, everything that is tender and passionate in a woman, was converted in her

into maternal love. She hovered around her children with anxiety, passion, tears, like the gull of the steppes.

They were taking her sons, her darling sons, from hertaking them from her, so that she should never see

them again! Who knew? Perhaps a Tatar would cut off their heads in the very first skirmish, and she would

never know where their deserted bodies might lie, torn by birds of prey; and yet for each single drop of their

blood she would have given all hers. Sobbing, she gazed into their eyes, and thought, "Perhaps Bulba, when

he wakes, will put off their departure for a day or two; perhaps it occurred to him to go so soon because he

The moon from the summit of the heavens had long since lit up the whole courtyard filled with sleepers, the

thick clump of willows, and the tall steppegrass, which hid the palisade surrounding the court. She still sat

at her sons' pillow, never removing her eyes from them for a moment, nor thinking of sleep. Already the

horses, divining the approach of dawn, had ceased eating and lain down upon the grass; the topmost leaves of

the willows began to rustle softly, and little by little the rippling rustle descended to their bases. She sat there

until daylight, unwearied, and wishing in her heart that the night might prolong itself indefinitely. From the

steppes came the ringing neigh of the horses, and red streaks shone brightly in the sky. Bulba suddenly

awoke, and sprang to his feet. He remembered quite well what he had ordered the night before. "Now, my

men, you've slept enough! 'tis time, 'tis time! Water the horses! And where is the old woman?" He generally

called his wife so. "Be quick, old woman, get us something to eat; the way is long."

Whilst she, with tears, prepared what was needed for breakfast, Bulba gave his orders, went to the stable, and

The scholars were suddenly transformed. Red morocco boots with silver heels took the place of their dirty old

ones; trousers wide as the Black Sea, with countless folds and plaits, were kept up by golden girdles from

which hung long slender thongs, with tassles and other tinkling things, for pipes. Their jackets of scarlet cloth

were girt by flowered sashes into which were thrust engraved Turkish pistols; their swords clanked at their

heels. Their faces, already a little sunburnt, seemed to have grown handsomer and whiter; their slight black

moustaches now cast a more distinct shadow on this pallor and set off their healthy youthful complexions.

They looked very handsome in their black sheepskin caps, with clothofgold crowns.

When their poor mother saw them, she could not utter a word, and tears stood in her eyes.

"Now, my lads, all is ready; no delay!" said Bulba at last. "But we must first all sit down together, in

All sat down, not excepting the servants, who had been standing respectfully at the door.

"Now, mother, bless your children," said Bulba. "Pray God that they may fight bravely, always defend their

warlike honour, always defend the faith of Christ; and, if not, that they may die, so that their breath may not

The mother, weak as mothers are, embraced them, drew out two small holy pictures, and hung them, sobbing,

around their necks. "May God's motherkeep you! Children, do not forget your mothersend some little

At the door stood the horses, ready saddled. Bulba sprang upon his "Devil," which bounded wildly, on feeling

on his back a load of over thirty stone, for Taras was extremely stout and heavy.

When the mother saw that her sons were also mounted, she rushed towards the younger, whose features

expressed somewhat more gentleness than those of his brother. She grasped his stirrup, clung to his saddle,

and with despair in her eyes, refused to loose her hold. Two stout Cossacks seized her carefully, and bore her

back into the hut. But before the cavalcade had passed out of the courtyard, she rushed with the speed of a

wild goat, disproportionate to her years, to the gate, stopped a horse with irresistible strength, and embraced

The young Cossacks rode on sadly, repressing their tears out of fear of their father, who, on his side, was

somewhat moved, although he strove not to show it. The morning was grey, the green sward bright, the birds

twittered rather discordantly. They glanced back as they rode. Their paternal farm seemed to have sunk into

the earth. All that was visible above the surface were the two chimneys of their modest hut and the tops of the

trees up whose trunks they had been used to climb like squirrels. Before them still stretched the field by

which they could recall the whole story of their lives, from the years when they rolled in its dewy grass down

to the years when they awaited in it the darkbrowed Cossack maiden, running timidly across it on quick

young feet. There is the pole above the well, with the waggon wheel fastened to its top, rising solitary against

the sky; already the level which they have traversed appears a hill in the distance, and now all has

All three horsemen rode in silence. Old Taras's thoughts were far away: before him passed his youth, his

yearsthe swiftflying years, over which the Cossack always weeps, wishing that his life might be all

youth. He wondered whom of his former comrades he should meet at the Setch. He reckoned up how many

had already died, how many were still alive. Tears formed slowly in his eyes, and his grey head bent sadly.

His sons were occupied with other thoughts. But we must speak further of his sons. They had been sent, when

twelve years old, to the academy at Kief, because all leaders of that day considered it indispensable to give

their children an education, although it was afterwards utterly forgotten. Like all who entered the academy,

they were wild, having been brought up in unrestrained freedom; and whilst there they had acquired some

polish, and pursued some common branches of knowledge which gave them a certain resemblance to each

The elder, Ostap, began his scholastic career by running away in the course of the first year. They brought

him back, whipped him well, and set him down to his books. Four times did he bury his primer in the earth;

and four times, after giving him a sound thrashing, did they buy him a new one. But he would no doubt have

repeated this feat for the fifth time, had not his father given him a solemn assurance that he would keep him

at monastic work for twenty years, and sworn in advance that he should never behold Zaporozhe all his life

long, unless he learned all the sciences taught in the academy. It was odd that the man who said this was that

very Taras Bulba who condemned all learning, and counselled his children, as we have seen, not to trouble

themselves at all about it. From that moment, Ostap began to pore over his tiresome books with exemplary

diligence, and quickly stood on a level with the best. The style of education in that age differed widely from

the manner of life. The scholastic, grammatical, rhetorical, and logical subtle ties in vogue were decidedly out

of consonance with the times, never having any connection with, and never being encountered in, actual life.

Those who studied them, even the least scholastic, could not apply their knowledge to anything whatever.

The learned men of those days were even more incapable than the rest, because farther removed from all

experience. Moreover, the republican constitution of the academy, the fearful multitude of young, healthy,

strong fellows, inspired the students with an activity quite outside the limits of their learning. Poor fare, or

frequent punishments of fasting, with the numerous requirements arising in fresh, strong, healthy youth,

combined to arouse in them that spirit of enterprise which was afterwards further developed among the

Zaporozhians. The hungry student running about the streets of Kief forced every one to be on his guard.

Dealers sitting in the bazaar covered their pies, their cakes, and their pumpkinrolls with their hands, like

eagles protecting their young, if they but caught sight of a passing student. The consul or monitor, who was

bound by his duty to look after the comrades entrusted to his care, had such frightfully wide pockets to his

trousers that he could stow away the whole contents of the gaping dealer's stall in them. These students

constituted an entirely separate world, for they were not admitted to the higher circles, composed of Polish

and Russian nobles. Even the Waiwode, Adam Kisel, in spite of the patronage he bestowed upon the

academy, did not seek to introduce them into society, and ordered them to be kept more strictly in

supervision. This command was quite superfluous, for neither the rector nor the monkish professors spared

rod or whip; and the lictors sometimes, by their orders, lashed their consuls so severely that the latter rubbed

their trousers for weeks afterwards. This was to many of them a trifle, only a little more stinging than good

vodka with pepper: others at length grew tired of such constant blisters, and ran away to Zaporozhe if they

could find the road and were not caught on the way. Ostap Bulba, although he began to study logic, and even

theology, with much zeal, did not escape the merciless rod. Naturally, all this tended to harden his character,

and give him that firmness which distinguishes the Cossacks. He always held himself aloof from his

He rarely led others into such hazardous enterprises as robbing a strange garden or orchard; but, on the other

hand, he was always among the first to join the standard of an adventurous student. And never, under any

circumstances, did he betray his comrades; neither imprisonment nor beatings could make him do so. He was

unassailable by any temptations save those of war and revelry; at least, he scarcely ever dreamt of others. He

was upright with his equals. He was kindhearted, after the only fashion that kindheartedness could exist in

such a character and at such a time. He was touched to his very heart by his poor mother's tears; but this only

His younger brother, Andrii, had livelier and more fully developed feelings. He learned more willingly and

without the effort with which strong and weighty characters generally have to make in order to apply

themselves to study. He was more inventiveminded than his brother, and frequently appeared as the leader

of dangerous expeditions; sometimes, thanks to the quickness of his mind, contriving to escape punishment

when his brother Ostap, abandoning all efforts, stripped off his gaberdine and lay down upon the floor

without a thought of begging for mercy. He too thirsted for action; but, at the same time, his soul was

accessible to other sentiments. The need of love burned ardently within him. When he had passed his

eighteenth year, woman began to present herself more frequently in his dreams; listening to philosophical

discussions, he still beheld her, fresh, blackeyed, tender; before him constantly flitted her elastic bosom, her

soft, bare arms; the very gown which clung about her youthful yet wellrounded limbs breathed into his

visions a certain inexpressible sensuousness. He carefully concealed this impulse of his passionate young soul

from his comrades, because in that age it was held shameful and dishonourable for a Cossack to think of love

and a wife before he had tasted battle. On the whole, during the last year, he had acted more rarely as leader

to the bands of students, but had roamed more frequently alone, in remote corners of Kief, among lowroofed

houses, buried in cherry orchards, peeping alluringly at the street. Sometimes he betook himself to the more

aristocratic streets, in the old Kief of today, where dwelt Little Russian and Polish nobles, and where houses

were built in more fanciful style. Once, as he was gaping along, an oldfashioned carriage belonging to some

Polish noble almost drove over him; and the heavily moustached coachman, who sat on the box, gave him a

smart cut with his whip. The young student fired up; with thoughtless daring he seized the hindwheel with

his powerful hands and stopped the carriage. But the coachman, fearing a drubbing, lashed his horses; they

sprang forward, and Andrii, succeeding happily in freeing his hands, was flung full length on the ground with

his face flat in the mud. The most ringing and harmonious of laughs resounded above him. He raised his eyes

and saw, standing at a window, a beauty such as he had never beheld in all his life, blackeyed, and with skin

white as snow illumined by the dawning flush of the sun. She was laughing heartily, and her laugh enhanced

her dazzling loveliness. Taken aback he gazed at her in confusion, abstractedly wiping the mud from his face,

by which means it became still further smeared. Who could this beauty be? He sought to find out from the

servants, who, in rich liveries, stood at the gate in a crowd surrounding a young guitarplayer; but they only

laughed when they saw his besmeared face and deigned him no reply. At length he learned that she was the

daughter of the Waiwode of Koven, who had come thither for a time. The following night, with the daring

characteristic of the student, he crept through the palings into the garden and climbed a tree which spread its

branches upon the very roof of the house. From the tree he gained the roof, and made his way down the

chimney straight into the bedroom of the beauty, who at that moment was seated before a lamp, engaged in

removing the costly earrings from her ears. The beautiful Pole was so alarmed on suddenly beholding an

unknown man that she could not utter a single word; but when she perceived that the student stood before her

with downcast eyes, not daring to move a hand through timidity, when she recognised in him the one who

Moreover, there was nothing terrible about Andrii's features; he was very handsome. She laughed heartily,

and amused herself over him for a long time. The lady was giddy, like all Poles; but her eyesher wondrous

clear, piercing eyesshot one glance, a long glance. The student could not move hand or foot, but stood

bound as in a sack, when the Waiwode's daughter approached him boldly, placed upon his head her glittering

diadem, hung her earrings on his lips, and flung over him a transparent muslin chemisette with

goldembroidered garlands. She adorned him, and played a thousand foolish pranks, with the childish

carelessness which distinguishes the giddy Poles, and which threw the poor student into still greater

He cut a ridiculous feature, gazing immovably, and with open mouth, into her dazzling eyes. A knock at the

door startled her. She ordered him to hide himself under the bed, and, as soon as the disturber was gone,

called her maid, a Tatar prisoner, and gave her orders to conduct him to the garden with caution, and thence

show him through the fence. But our student this time did not pass the fence so successfully. The watchman

awoke, and caught him firmly by the foot; and the servants, assembling, beat him in the street, until his swift

legs rescued him. After that it became very dangerous to pass the house, for the Waiwode's domestics were

numerous. He met her once again at church. She saw him, and smiled pleasantly, as at an old acquaintance.

He saw her once more, by chance; but shortly afterwards the Waiwode departed, and, instead of the beautiful

blackeyed Pole, some fat face or other gazed from the window. This was what Andrii was thinking about, as

In the meantime the steppe had long since received them all into its green embrace; and the high grass,

closing round, concealed them, till only their black Cossack caps appeared above it.

"Eh, eh, why are you so quiet, lads?" said Bulba at length, waking from his own reverie. "You're like monks.

Now, all thinking to the Evil One, once for all! Take your pipes in your teeth, and let us smoke, and spur on

And the Cossacks, bending low on their horses' necks, disappeared in the grass. Their black caps were no

longer to be seen; a streak of trodden grass alone showed the trace of their swift flight.

The sun had long since looked forth from the clear heavens and inundated the steppe with his quickening,

warming light. All that was dim and drowsy in the Cossacks' minds flew away in a twinkling: their hearts

The farther they penetrated the steppe, the more beautiful it became. Then all the South, all that region which

now constitutes New Russia, even as far as the Black Sea, was a green, virgin wilderness. No plough had ever

passed over the immeasurable waves of wild growth; horses alone, hidden in it as in a forest, trod it down.

Nothing in nature could be finer. The whole surface resembled a goldengreen ocean, upon which were

sprinkled millions of different flowers. Through the tall, slender stems of the grass peeped lightblue,

darkblue, and lilac starthistles; the yellow broom thrust up its pyramidal head; the parasolshaped white

flower of the false flax shimmered on high. A wheatear, brought God knows whence, was filling out to

ripening. Amongst the roots of this luxuriant vegetation ran partridges with outstretched necks. The air was

filled with the notes of a thousand different birds. On high hovered the hawks, their wings outspread, and

their eyes fixed intently on the grass. The cries of a flock of wild ducks, ascending from one side, were

echoed from God knows what distant lake. From the grass arose, with measured sweep, a gull, and skimmed

wantonly through blue waves of air. And now she has vanished on high, and appears only as a black dot: now

she has turned her wings, and shines in the sunlight. Oh, steppes, how beautiful you are!

Our travellers halted only a few minutes for dinner. Their escort of ten Cossacks sprang from their horses and

undid the wooden casks of brandy, and the gourds which were used instead of drinking vessels. They ate only

cakes of bread and dripping; they drank but one cup apiece to strengthen them, for Taras Bulba never

permitted intoxication upon the road, and then continued their journey until evening.

In the evening the whole steppe changed its aspect. All its varied expanse was bathed in the last bright glow

of the sun; and as it grew dark gradually, it could be seen how the shadow flitted across it and it became dark

green. The mist rose more densely; each flower, each blade of grass, emitted a fragrance as of ambergris, and

the whole steppe distilled perfume. Broad bands of rosy gold were streaked across the dark blue heaven, as

with a gigantic brush; here and there gleamed, in white tufts, light and transparent clouds: and the freshest,

most enchanting of gentle breezes barely stirred the tops of the grassblades, like seawaves, and caressed

the cheek. The music which had resounded through the day had died away, and given place to another. The

striped marmots crept out of their holes, stood erect on their hind legs, and filled the steppe with their whistle.

The whirr of the grasshoppers had become more distinctly audible. Sometimes the cry of the swan was heard

from some distant lake, ringing through the air like a silver trumpet. The travellers, halting in the midst of the

plain, selected a spot for their night encampment, made a fire, and hung over it the kettle in which they

cooked their oatmeal; the steam rising and floating aslant in the air. Having supped, the Cossacks lay down to

sleep, after hobbling their horses and turning them out to graze. They lay down in their gaberdines. The stars

of night gazed directly down upon them. They could hear the countless myriads of insects which filled the

grass; their rasping, whistling, and chirping, softened by the fresh air, resounded clearly through the night,

and lulled the drowsy ear. If one of them rose and stood for a time, the steppe presented itself to him strewn

with the sparks of glowworms. At times the night sky was illumined in spots by the glare of burning reeds

along pools or riverbank; and dark flights of swans flying to the north were suddenly lit up by the silvery,

rosecoloured gleam, till it seemed as though red kerchiefs were floating in the dark heavens.

The travellers proceeded onward without any adventure. They came across no villages. It was ever the same

boundless, waving, beautiful steppe. Only at intervals the summits of distant forests shone blue, on one hand,

stretching along the banks of the Dnieper. Once only did Taras point out to his sons a small black speck far

away amongst the grass, saying, "Look, children! yonder gallops a Tatar." The little head with its long

moustaches fixed its narrow eyes upon them from afar, its nostrils snuffing the air like a greyhound's, and

then disappeared like an antelope on its owner perceiving that the Cossacks were thirteen strong. "And now,

children, don't try to overtake the Tatar! You would never catch him to all eternity; he has a horse swifter

than my Devil." But Bulba took precautions, fearing hidden ambushes. They galloped along the course of a

small stream, called the Tatarka, which falls into the Dnieper; rode into the water and swam with their horses

some distance in order to conceal their trail. Then, scrambling out on the bank, they continued their road.

Three days later they were not far from the goal of their journey. The air suddenly grew colder: they could

feel the vicinity of the Dnieper. And there it gleamed afar, distinguishable on the horizon as a dark band. It

sent forth cold waves, spreading nearer, nearer, and finally seeming to embrace half the entire surface of the

earth. This was that section of its course where the river, hitherto confined by the rapids, finally makes its

own away and, roaring like the sea, rushes on at will; where the islands, flung into its midst, have pressed it

farther from their shores, and its waves have spread widely over the earth, encountering neither cliffs nor

hills. The Cossacks, alighting from their horses, entered the ferryboat, and after a three hours' sail reached

the shores of the island of Khortitz, where at that time stood the Setch, which so often changed its situation.

A throng of people hastened to the shore with boats. The Cossacks arranged the horses' trappings. Taras

assumed a stately air, pulled his belt tighter, and proudly stroked his moustache. His sons also inspected

themselves from head to foot, with some apprehension and an undefined feeling of satisfaction; and all set

out together for the suburb, which was half a verst from the Setch. On their arrival, they were deafened by the

clang of fifty blacksmiths' hammers beating upon twentyfive anvils sunk in the earth. Stout tanners seated

beneath awnings were scraping oxhides with their strong hands; shopkeepers sat in their booths, with piles

of flints, steels, and powder before them; Armenians spread out their rich handkerchiefs; Tatars turned their

kabobs upon spits; a Jew, with his head thrust forward, was filtering some cornbrandy from a cask. But the

first man they encountered was a Zaporozhetz[1] who was sleeping in the very middle of the road with legs

and arms outstretched. Taras Bulba could not refrain from halting to admire him. "How splendidly developed

he is; phew, what a magnificent figure!" he said, stopping his horse. It was, in fact, a striking picture. This

Zaporozhetz had stretched himself out in the road like a lion; his scalplock, thrown proudly behind him,

extended over upwards of a foot of ground; his trousers of rich red cloth were spotted with tar, to show his

utter disdain for them. Having admired to his heart's content, Bulba passed on through the narrow street,

crowded with mechanics exercising their trades, and with people of all nationalities who thronged this suburb

of the Setch, resembling a fair, and fed and clothed the Setch itself, which knew only how to revel and burn

At length they left the suburb behind them, and perceived some scattered kurens[2], covered with turf, or in

Tatar fashion with felt. Some were furnished with cannon. Nowhere were any fences visible, or any of those

lowroofed houses with verandahs supported upon low wooden pillars, such as were seen in the suburb. A

low wall and a ditch, totally unguarded, betokened a terrible degree of recklessness. Some sturdy Zaporozhtzi

lying, pipe in mouth, in the very road, glanced indifferently at them, but never moved from their places. Taras

threaded his way carefully among them, with his sons, saying, "Goodday, gentles.""Goodday to you,"

answered the Zaporozhtzi. Scattered over the plain were picturesque groups. From their weatherbeaten faces,

it was plain that all were steeled in battle, and had faced every sort of bad weather. And there it was, the

Setch! There was the lair from whence all those men, proud and strong as lions, issued forth! There was the

The travellers entered the great square where the council generally met. On a huge overturned cask sat a

Zaporozhetz without his shirt; he was holding it in his hands, and slowly sewing up the holes in it. Again

their way was stopped by a whole crowd of musicians, in the midst of whom a young Zaporozhetz was

dancing, with head thrown back and arms outstretched. He kept shouting, "Play faster, musicians! Begrudge

not, Thoma, brandy to these orthodox Christians!" And Thoma, with his blackened eye, went on measuring

About the youthful Zaporozhetz four old men, moving their feet quite briskly, leaped like a whirlwind to one

side, almost upon the musicians' heads, and, suddenly, retreating, squatted down and drummed the hard earth

vigorously with their silver heels. The earth hummed dully all about, and afar the air resounded with national

But one shouted more loudly than all the rest, and flew after the others in the dance. His scalplock streamed

in the wind, his muscular chest was bare, his warm, winter fur jacket was hanging by the sleeves, and the

perspiration poured from him as from a pig. "Take off your jacket!" said Taras at length: "see how he

steams!""I can't," shouted the Cossack. "Why?""I can't: I have such a disposition that whatever I take

off, I drink up." And indeed, the young fellow had not had a cap for a long time, nor a belt to his caftan, nor

an embroidered neckerchief: all had gone the proper road. The throng increased; more folk joined the dancer:

and it was impossible to observe without emotion how all yielded to the impulse of the dance, the freest, the

wildest, the world has ever seen, still called from its mighty originators, the Kosachka.

"Oh, if I had no horse to hold," exclaimed Taras, "I would join the dance myself."

Meanwhile there began to appear among the throng men who were respected for their prowess throughout all

the Setchold greyheads who had been leaders more than once. Taras soon found a number of familiar

faces. Ostap and Andrii heard nothing but greetings. "Ah, it is you, Petcheritza! Good day,

Kozolup!""Whence has God brought you, Taras?""How did you come here, Doloto? Health to you,

Kirdyaga! Hail to you, Gustui! Did I ever think of seeing you, Remen?" And these heroes, gathered from all

the roving population of Eastern Russia, kissed each other and began to ask questions. "But what has become

of Kasyan? Where is Borodavka? and Koloper? and Pidsuitok?" And in reply, Taras Bulba learned that

Borodavka had been hung at Tolopan, that Koloper had been flayed alive at Kizikirmen, that Pidsuitok's head

had been salted and sent in a cask to Constantinople. Old Bulba hung his head and said thoughtfully, "They

Taras Bulba and his sons had been in the Setch about a week. Ostap and Andrii occupied themselves but little

with the science of war. The Setch was not fond of wasting time in warlike exercises. The young generation

learned these by experience alone, in the very heat of battles, which were therefore incessant. The Cossacks

thought it a nuisance to fill up the intervals of this instruction with any kind of drill, except perhaps shooting

at a mark, and on rare occasions with horseracing and wildbeast hunts on the steppes and in the forests. All

the rest of the time was devoted to revelrya sign of the wide diffusion of moral liberty. The whole of the

Setch presented an unusual scene: it was one unbroken revel; a ball noisily begun, which had no end. Some

busied themselves with handicrafts; others kept little shops and traded; but the majority caroused from

morning till night, if the wherewithal jingled in their pockets, and if the booty they had captured had not

already passed into the hands of the shopkeepers and spiritsellers. This universal revelry had something

fascinating about it. It was not an assemblage of topers, who drank to drown sorrow, but simply a wild

revelry of joy. Every one who came thither forgot everything, abandoned everything which had hitherto

interested him. He, so to speak, spat upon his past and gave himself recklessly up to freedom and the

goodfellowship of men of the same stamp as himselfidlers having neither relatives nor home nor family,

nothing, in short, save the free sky and the eternal revel of their souls. This gave rise to that wild gaiety which

could not have sprung from any other source. The tales and talk current among the assembled crowd,

reposing lazily on the ground, were often so droll, and breathed such power of vivid narration, that it required

all the nonchalance of a Zaporozhetz to retain his immovable expression, without even a twitch of the

moustachea feature which to this day distinguishes the Southern Russian from his northern brethren. It was

drunken, noisy mirth; but there was no dark alehouse where a man drowns thought in stupefying

The only difference as regarded the students was that, instead of sitting under the pointer and listening to the

wornout doctrines of a teacher, they practised racing with five thousand horses; instead of the field where

they had played ball, they had the boundless borderlands, where at the sight of them the Tatar showed his

keen face and the Turk frowned grimly from under his green turban. The difference was that, instead of being

forced to the companionship of school, they themselves had deserted their fathers and mothers and fled from

their homes; that here were those about whose neck a rope had already been wound, and who, instead of pale

death, had seen life, and life in all its intensity; those who, from generous habits, could never keep a coin in

their pockets; those who had thitherto regarded a ducat as wealth, and whose pockets, thanks to the Jew

revenuefarmers, could have been turned wrong side out without any danger of anything falling from them.

Here were students who could not endure the academic rod, and had not carried away a single letter from the

schools; but with them were also some who knew about Horace, Cicero, and the Roman Republic. There

were many leaders who afterwards distinguished themselves in the king's armies; and there were numerous

clever partisans who cherished a magnanimous conviction that it was of no consequence where they fought,

so long as they did fight, since it was a disgrace to an honourable man to live without fighting. There were

many who had come to the Setch for the sake of being able to say afterwards that they had been there and

were therefore hardened warriors. But who was not there? This strange republic was a necessary outgrowth of

the epoch. Lovers of a warlike life, of golden beakers and rich brocades, of ducats and gold pieces, could

always find employment there. The lovers of women alone could find naught, for no woman dared show

It seemed exceedingly strange to Ostap and Andrii that, although a crowd of people had come to the Setch

with them, not a soul inquired, "Whence come these men? who are they? and what are their names?" They

had come thither as though returning to a home whence they had departed only an hour before. The

newcomer merely presented himself to the Koschevoi, or head chief of the Setch, who generally said,

"Welcome! Do you believe in Christ?""I do," replied the newcomer. "And do you believe in the Holy

Trinity?""I do.""And do you go to church?""I do." "Now cross yourself." The newcomer crossed

himself. "Very good," replied the Koschevoi; "enter the kuren where you have most acquaintances." This

concluded the ceremony. And all the Setch prayed in one church, and were willing to defend it to their last

drop of blood, although they would not hearken to aught about fasting or abstinence. Jews, Armenians, and

Tatars, inspired by strong avarice, took the liberty of living and trading in the suburbs; for the Zaporozhtzi

never cared for bargaining, and paid whatever money their hand chanced to grasp in their pocket. Moreover,

the lot of these gainloving traders was pitiable in the extreme. They resembled people settled at the foot of

Vesuvius; for when the Zaporozhtzi lacked money, these bold adventurers broke down their booths and took

everything gratis. The Setch consisted of over sixty kurens, each of which greatly resembled a separate

independent republic, but still more a school or seminary of children, always ready for anything. No one had

any occupation; no one retained anything for himself; everything was in the hands of the hetman of the kuren,

who, on that account, generally bore the title of "father." In his hands were deposited the money, clothes, all

the provisions, oatmeal, grain, even the firewood. They gave him money to take care of. Quarrels amongst

the inhabitants of the kuren were not unfrequent; and in such cases they proceeded at once to blows. The

inhabitants of the kuren swarmed into the square, and smote each other with their fists, until one side had

finally gained the upper hand, when the revelry began. Such was the Setch, which had such an attraction for

Ostap and Andrii flung themselves into this sea of dissipation with all the ardour of youth, forgot in a trice

their father's house, the seminary, and all which had hitherto exercised their minds, and gave themselves

wholly up to their new life. Everything interested themthe jovial habits of the Setch, and its chaotic morals

and laws, which even seemed to them too strict for such a free republic. If a Cossack stole the smallest trifle,

it was considered a disgrace to the whole Cossack community. He was bound to the pillar of shame, and a

club was laid beside him, with which each passerby was bound to deal him a blow until in this manner he

was beaten to death. He who did not pay his debts was chained to a cannon, until some one of his comrades

should decide to ransom him by paying his debts for him. But what made the deepest impression on Andrii

was the terrible punishment decreed for murder. A hole was dug in his presence, the murderer was lowered

alive into it, and over him was placed a coffin containing the body of the man he had killed, after which the

earth was thrown upon both. Long afterwards the fearful ceremony of this horrible execution haunted his

mind, and the man who had been buried alive appeared to him with his terrible coffin.

Both the young Cossacks soon took a good standing among their fellows. They often sallied out upon the

steppe with comrades from their kuren, and sometimes too with the whole kuren or with neighbouring

kurens, to shoot the innumerable steppebirds of every sort, deer, and goats. Or they went out upon the lakes,

the river, and its tributaries allotted to each kuren, to throw their nets and draw out rich prey for the

enjoyment of the whole kuren. Although unversed in any trade exercised by a Cossack, they were soon

remarked among the other youths for their obstinate bravery and daring in everything. Skilfully and

accurately they fired at the mark, and swam the Dnieper against the currenta deed for which the novice

But old Taras was planning a different sphere of activity for them. Such an idle life was not to his mind; he

wanted active employment. He reflected incessantly how to stir up the Setch to some bold enterprise, wherein

a man could revel as became a warrior. At length he went one day to the Koschevoi, and said plainly:

"There is nowhere for them to go," replied the Koschevoi, removing his short pipe from his mouth and

"Impossible to go either to Turkey or Tatary," replied the Koschevoi, putting his pipe coolly into his mouth

"But he is a Mussulman; and God and the Holy Scriptures command us to slay Mussulmans."

"We have no right. If we had not sworn by our faith, it might be done; but now it is impossible."

"How is it impossible? How can you say that we have no right? Here are my two sons, both young men.

Neither has been to war; and you say that we have no right, and that there is no need for the Zaporozhtzi to

"Then it must be fitting that Cossack strength should be wasted in vain, that a man should disappear like a

dog without having done a single good deed, that he should be of no use to his country or to Christianity!

Why, then, do we live? What the deuce do we live for? just tell me that. You are a sensible man, you were not

The Koschevoi made no reply to this question. He was an obstinate Cossack. He was silent for a while, and

"Wait, you devil's limb!" said Taras to himself; "you shall learn to know me!" and he at once resolved to have

Having made an agreement with several others, he gave them liquor; and the drunken Cossacks staggered

into the square, where on a post hung the kettledrums which were generally beaten to assemble the people.

Not finding the sticks, which were kept by the drummer, they seized a piece of wood and began to beat. The

first to respond to the drumbeat was the drummer, a tall man with but one eye, but a frightfully sleepy one

"Hold your tongue! take your sticks, and beat when you are ordered!" replied the drunken men.

The drummer at once took from his pocket the sticks which he had brought with him, well knowing the result

of such proceedings. The drum rattled, and soon black swarms of Cossacks began to collect like bees in the

square. All formed in a ring; and at length, after the third summons, the chiefs began to arrivethe

Koschevoi with staff in hand, the symbol of his office; the judge with the armyseal; the secretary with his

inkbottle; and the osaul with his staff. The Koschevoi and the chiefs took off their caps and bowed on all

"What means this assemblage? what do you wish, gentles?" said the Koschevoi. Shouts and exclamations

"Resign your staff! resign your staff this moment, you son of Satan! we will have you no longer!" shouted

some of the Cossacks in the crowd. Some of the sober ones appeared to wish to oppose this, but both sober

The Koschevoi attempted to speak; but knowing that the selfwilled multitude, if enraged, might beat him to

death, as almost always happened in such cases, he bowed very low, laid down his staff, and hid himself in

"Do you command us, gentles, to resign our insignia of office?" said the judge, the secretary, and the osaul,

"No, you are to remain!" was shouted from the crowd. "We only wanted to drive out the Koschevoi because

"We won't have Kukubenko!" screamed another party: "he is too young; the milk has not dried off his lips

"Away with your Schilo!" yelled the crowd; "what kind of a Cossack is he who is as thievish as a Tatar? To

"Kirdyanga, Kirdyanga!" shouted the crowd. "Borodaty, Borodaty! Kirdyanga, Kirdyanga! Schilo! Away

All the candidates, on hearing their names mentioned, quitted the crowd, in order not to give any one a

"Fetch Kirdyanga!" they shouted. Half a score of Cossacks immediately left the crowdsome of them hardly

able to keep their feet, to such an extent had they drunkand went directly to Kirdyanga to inform him of

Kirdyanga, a very old but wise Cossack, had been sitting for some time in his kuren, as if he knew nothing of

"Have mercy, gentles!" said Kirdyanga. "How can I be worthy of such honour? Why should I be made

Koschevoi? I have not sufficient capacity to fill such a post. Could no better person be found in all the

"Come, I say!" shouted the Zaporozhtzi. Two of them seized him by the arms; and in spite of his planting his

feet firmly they finally dragged him to the square, accompanying his progress with shouts, blows from behind

with their fists, kicks, and exhortations. "Don't hold back, you son of Satan! Accept the honour, you dog,

when it is given!" In this manner Kirdyanga was conducted into the ring of Cossacks.

"How now, gentles?" announced those who had brought him, "are you agreed that this Cossack shall be your

"We are all agreed!" shouted the throng, and the whole plain trembled for a long time afterwards from the

One of the chiefs took the staff and brought it to the newly elected Koschevoi. Kirdyanga, in accordance with

custom, immediately refused it. The chief offered it a second time; Kirdyanga again refused it, and then, at

the third offer, accepted the staff. A cry of approbation rang out from the crowd, and again the whole plain

resounded afar with the Cossacks' shout. Then there stepped out from among the people the four oldest of

them all, whitebearded, whitehaired Cossacks; though there were no very old men in the Setch, for none of

the Zaporozhtzi ever died in their beds. Taking each a handful of earth, which recent rain had converted into

mud, they laid it on Kirdyanga's head. The wet earth trickled down from his head on to his moustache and

cheeks and smeared his whole face. But Kirdyanga stood immovable in his place, and thanked the Cossacks

Thus ended the noisy election, concerning which we cannot say whether it was as pleasing to the others as it

was to Bulba; by means of it he had revenged himself on the former Koschevoi. Moreover, Kirdyanga was an

old comrade, and had been with him on the same expeditions by sea and land, sharing the toils and hardships

of war. The crowd immediately dispersed to celebrate the election, and such revelry ensued as Ostap and

Andrii had not yet beheld. The taverns were attacked and mead, cornbrandy, and beer seized without

payment, the owners being only too glad to escape with whole skins themselves. The whole night passed

amid shouts, songs, and rejoicings; and the rising moon gazed long at troops of musicians traversing the

streets with guitars, flutes, tambourines, and the church choir, who were kept in the Setch to sing in church

and glorify the deeds of the Zaporozhtzi. At length drunkenness and fatigue began to overpower even these

strong heads, and here and there a Cossack could be seen to fall to the ground, embracing a comrade in

fraternal fashion; whilst maudlin, and even weeping, the latter rolled upon the earth with him. Here a whole

group would lie down in a heap; there a man would choose the most comfortable position and stretch himself

out on a log of wood. The last, and strongest, still uttered some incoherent speeches; finally even they,

yielding to the power of intoxication, flung themselves down and all the Setch slept.

But next day Taras Bulba had a conference with the new Koschevoi as to the method of exciting the Cossacks

to some enterprise. The Koschevoi, a shrewd and sensible Cossack, who knew the Zaporozhtzi thoroughly,

said at first, "Oaths cannot be violated by any means"; but after a pause added, "No matter, it can be done.

We will not violate them, but let us devise something. Let the people assemble, not at my summons, but of

their own accord. You know how to manage that; and I will hasten to the square with the chiefs, as though we

Not an hour had elapsed after their conversation, when the drums again thundered. The drunken and senseless

Cossacks assembled. A myriad Cossack caps were sprinkled over the square. A murmur arose, "Why? What?

Why was the assembly beaten?" No one answered. At length, in one quarter and another, it began to be

rumoured about, "Behold, the Cossack strength is being vainly wasted: there is no war! Behold, our leaders

have become as marmots, every one; their eyes swim in fat! Plainly, there is no justice in the world!" The

other Cossacks listened at first, and then began themselves to say, "In truth, there is no justice in the world!"

Their leaders seemed surprised at these utterances. Finally the Koschevoi stepped forward: "Permit me,

"Touching the matter in question, gentles, none know better than yourselves that many Zaporozhtzi have run

in debt to the Jew alehouse keepers and to their brethren, so that now they have not an atom of credit.

Again, touching the matter in question, there are many young fellows who have no idea of what war is like,

although you know, gentles, that without war a young man cannot exist. How make a Zaporozhetz out of him

"Think not, however, gentles, that I speak thus in order to break the truce; God forbid! I merely mention it.

Besides, it is a shame to see what sort of church we have for our God. Not only has the church remained

without exterior decoration during all the years which by God's mercy the Setch has stood, but up to this day

even the holy pictures have no adornments. No one has even thought of making them a silver frame; they

have only received what some Cossacks have left them in their wills; and these gifts were poor, since they

had drunk up nearly all they had during their lifetime. I am making you this speech, therefore, not in order to

stir up a war against the Mussulmans; we have promised the Sultan peace, and it would be a great sin in us to

"So you see, gentles, that war cannot be begun; honour does not permit it. But according to my poor opinion,

we might, I think, send out a few young men in boats and let them plunder the coasts of Anatolia a little.

"Lead us, lead us all!" shouted the crowd on all sides. "We are ready to lay down our lives for our faith."

The Koschevoi was alarmed. He by no means wished to stir up all Zaporozhe; a breach of the truce appeared

to him on this occasion unsuitable. "Permit me, gentles, to address you further."

"If it must be so, then let it be so. I am the slave of your will. We know, and from Scripture too, that the voice

of the people is the voice of God. It is impossible to devise anything better than the whole nation has devised.

But here lies the difficulty; you know, gentles, that the Sultan will not permit that which delights our young

men to go unpunished. We should be prepared at such a time, and our forces should be fresh, and then we

should fear no one. But during their absence the Tatars may assemble fresh forces; the dogs do not show

themselves in sight and dare not come while the master is at home, but they can bite his heels from behind,

and bite painfully too. And if I must tell you the truth, we have not boats enough, nor powder ready in

sufficient quantity, for all to go. But I am ready, if you please; I am the slave of your will."

The cunning hetman was silent. The various groups began to discuss the matter, and the hetmans of the

kurens to take counsel together; few were drunk fortunately, so they decided to listen to reason.

A number of men set out at once for the opposite shore of the Dnieper, to the treasury of the army, where in

strictest secrecy, under water and among the reeds, lay concealed the army chest and a portion of the arms

captured from the enemy. Others hastened to inspect the boats and prepare them for service. In a twinkling

the whole shore was thronged with men. Carpenters appeared with axes in their hands. Old, weatherbeaten,

broadshouldered, stronglegged Zaporozhtzi, with black or silvered moustaches, rolled up their trousers,

waded up to their knees in water, and dragged the boats on to the shore with stout ropes; others brought

seasoned timber and all sorts of wood. The boats were freshly planked, turned bottom upwards, caulked and

tarred, and then bound together side by side after Cossack fashion, with long strands of reeds, so that the

swell of the waves might not sink them. Far along the shore they built fires and heated tar in copper cauldrons

to smear the boats. The old and the experienced instructed the young. The blows and shouts of the workers

About this time a large ferryboat began to near the shore. The mass of people standing in it began to wave

their hands from a distance. They were Cossacks in torn, ragged gaberdines. Their disordered garments, for

many had on nothing but their shirts, with a short pipe in their mouths, showed that they had either escaped

from some disaster or had caroused to such an extent that they had drunk up all they had on their bodies. A

short, broadshouldered Cossack of about fifty stepped out from the midst of them and stood in front. He

shouted and waved his hand more vigorously than any of the others; but his words could not be heard for the

"Whence come you!" asked the Koschevoi, as the boat touched the shore. All the workers paused in their

"Have you then heard nothing of what has been going on in the hetman's dominions?"

"Eh! what! Evidently the Tatars have plastered up your ears so that you might hear nothing."

"That is going on the like of which no man born or christened ever yet has seen."

"Tell us what it is, you son of a dog!" shouted one of the crowd, apparently losing patience.

"They are pledged to the Jews. If the Jew is not first paid, there can be no mass."

"And if the dog of a Jew does not make a sign with his unclean hand over the holy Easterbread, it cannot be

"He lies, brother gentles. It cannot be that an unclean Jew puts his mark upon the holy Easterbread."

"Listen! I have not yet told all. Catholic priests are going about all over the Ukraine in carts. The harm lies

not in the carts, but in the fact that not horses, but orthodox Christians[1], are harnessed to them. Listen! I

have not yet told all. They say that the Jewesses are making themselves petticoats out of our popes'

vestments. Such are the deeds that are taking place in the Ukraine, gentles! And you sit here revelling in

Zaporozhe; and evidently the Tatars have so scared you that you have no eyes, no ears, no anything, and

"Stop, stop!" broke in the Koschevoi, who up to that moment had stood with his eyes fixed upon the earth

like all Zaporozhtzi, who, on important occasions, never yielded to their first impulse, but kept silence, and

meanwhile concentrated inwardly all the power of their indignation. "Stop! I also have a word to say. But

what were you about? When your father the devil was raging thus, what were you doing yourselves? Had you

"Eh! how did we come to permit such lawlessness? You would have tried when there were fifty thousand of

the Lyakhs[2] alone; yes, and it is a shame not to be concealed, when there are also dogs among us who have

"Our hetman, roasted in a brazen ox, now lies in Warsaw; and the heads and hands of our leaders are being

carried to all the fairs as a spectacle for the people. That is what our leaders did."

The whole throng became wildly excited. At first silence reigned all along the shore, like that which precedes

"What! The Jews hold the Christian churches in pledge! Roman Catholic priests have harnessed and beaten

orthodox Christians! What! such torture has been permitted on Russian soil by the cursed unbelievers! And

they have done such things to the leaders and the hetman? Nay, this shall not be, it shall not be." Such words

came from all quarters. The Zaporozhtzi were moved, and knew their power. It was not the excitement of a

giddyminded folk. All who were thus agitated were strong, firm characters, not easily aroused, but, once

aroused, preserving their inward heat long and obstinately. "Hang all the Jews!" rang through the crowd.

"They shall not make petticoats for their Jewesses out of popes' vestments! They shall not place their signs

upon the holy wafers! Drown all the heathens in the Dnieper!" These words uttered by some one in the throng

flashed like lightning through all minds, and the crowd flung themselves upon the suburb with the intention

The poor sons of Israel, losing all presence of mind, and not being in any case courageous, hid themselves in

empty brandycasks, in ovens, and even crawled under the skirts of their Jewesses; but the Cossacks found

"Gracious nobles!" shrieked one Jew, tall and thin as a stick, thrusting his sorry visage, distorted with terror,

from among a group of his comrades, "gracious nobles! suffer us to say a word, only one word. We will

reveal to you what you never yet have heard, a thing more important than I can sayvery important!"

"Well, say it," said Bulba, who always liked to hear what an accused man had to say.

"Gracious nobles," exclaimed the Jew, "such nobles were never seen, by heavens, never! Such good, kind,

and brave men there never were in the world before!" His voice died away and quivered with fear. "How was

it possible that we should think any evil of the Zaporozhtzi? Those men are not of us at all, those who have

taken pledges in the Ukraine. By heavens, they are not of us! They are not Jews at all. The evil one alone

knows what they are; they are only fit to be spit upon and cast aside. Behold, my brethren, say the same! Is it

"By heavens, it is true!" replied Schloma and Schmul, from among the crowd, both pale as clay, in their

"We never yet," continued the tall Jew, "have had any secret intercourse with your enemies, and we will have

nothing to do with Catholics; may the evil one fly away with them! We are like own brothers to the

"What! the Zaporozhtzi are brothers to you!" exclaimed some one in the crowd. "Don't wait! the cursed Jews!

These words were the signal. They seized the Jews by the arms and began to hurl them into the waves. Pitiful

cries resounded on all sides; but the stern Zaporozhtzi only laughed when they saw the Jewish legs, cased in

shoes and stockings, struggling in the air. The poor orator who had called down destruction upon himself

jumped out of the caftan, by which they had seized him, and in his scant particoloured under waistcoat

clasped Bulba's legs, and cried, in piteous tones, "Great lord! gracious noble! I knew your brother, the late

Doroscha. He was a warrior who was an ornament to all knighthood. I gave him eight hundred sequins when

"Good," said Taras; and after reflecting, he turned to the Cossacks and spoke as follows: "There will always

be plenty of time to hang the Jew, if it proves necessary; but for today give him to me."

So saying, Taras led him to his waggon, beside which stood his Cossacks. "Crawl under the waggon; lie

So saying, he returned to the square, for the whole crowd had long since collected there. All had at once

abandoned the shore and the preparation of the boats; for a landjourney now awaited them, and not a

seavoyage, and they needed horses and waggons, not ships. All, both young and old, wanted to go on the

expedition; and it was decided, on the advice of the chiefs, the hetmans of the kurens, and the Koschevoi, and

with the approbation of the whole Zaporozhtzian army, to march straight to Poland, to avenge the injury and

disgrace to their faith and to Cossack renown, to seize booty from the cities, to burn villages and grain, and

spread their glory far over the steppe. All at once girded and armed themselves. The Koschevoi grew a whole

foot taller. He was no longer the timid executor of the restless wishes of a free people, but their untrammelled

master. He was a despot, who know only to command. All the independent and pleasureloving warriors

stood in an orderly line, with respectfully bowed heads, not venturing to raise their eyes, when the Koschevoi

gave his orders. He gave these quietly, without shouting and without haste, but with pauses between, like an

experienced man deeply learned in Cossack affairs, and carrying into execution, not for the first time, a

"Examine yourselves, look well to yourselves; examine all your equipments thoroughly," he said; "put your

teams and your tarboxes[3] in order; test your weapons. Take not many clothes with you: a shirt and a

couple of pairs of trousers to each Cossack, and a pot of oatmeal and millet apiecelet no one take any

more. There will be plenty of provisions, all that is needed, in the waggons. Let every Cossack have two

horses. And two hundred yoke of oxen must be taken, for we shall require them at the fords and marshy

places. Keep order, gentles, above all things. I know that there are some among you whom God has made so

greedy that they would like to tear up silk and velvet for footcloths. Leave off such devilish habits; reject all

garments as plunder, and take only weapons: though if valuables offer themselves, ducats or silver, they are

useful in any case. I tell you this beforehand, gentles, if any one gets drunk on the expedition, he will have a

short shrift: I will have him dragged by the neck like a dog behind the baggage waggons, no matter who he

may be, even were he the most heroic Cossack in the whole army; he shall be shot on the spot like a dog, and

flung out, without sepulture, to be torn by the birds of prey, for a drunkard on the march deserves no

Christian burial. Young men, obey the old men in all things! If a ball grazes you, or a sword cuts your head or

any other part, attach no importance to such trifles. Mix a charge of powder in a cup of brandy, quaff it

heartily, and all will pass offyou will not even have any fever; and if the wound is large, put simple earth

upon it, mixing it first with spittle in your palm, and that will dry it up. And now to work, to work, lads, and

So spoke the Koschevoi; and no sooner had he finished his speech than all the Cossacks at once set to work.

All the Setch grew sober. Nowhere was a single drunken man to be found, it was as though there never had

been such a thing among the Cossacks. Some attended to the tyres of the wheels, others changed the axles of

the waggons; some carried sacks of provisions to them or leaded them with arms; others again drove up the

horses and oxen. On all sides resounded the tramp of horses' hoofs, testshots from the guns, the clank of

swords, the lowing of oxen, the screech of rolling waggons, talking, sharp cries and urgingon of cattle. Soon

the Cossack force spread far over all the plain; and he who might have undertaken to run from its van to its

rear would have had a long course. In the little wooden church the priest was offering up prayers and

sprinkling all worshippers with holy water. All kissed the cross. When the camp broke up and the army

moved out of the Setch, all the Zaporozhtzi turned their heads back. "Farewell, our mother!" they said almost

As he passed through the suburb, Taras Bulba saw that his Jew, Yankel, had already erected a sort of booth

with an awning, and was selling flint, screwdrivers, powder, and all sorts of military stores needed on the

road, even to rolls and bread. "What devils these Jews are!" thought Taras; and riding up to him, he said,

Yankel in reply approached nearer, and making a sign with both hands, as though wishing to impart some

secret, said, "Let the noble lord but keep silence and say nothing to any one. Among the Cossack waggons is

a waggon of mine. I am carrying all sorts of needful stores for the Cossacks, and on the journey I will furnish

every sort of provisions at a lower price than any Jew ever sold at before. 'Tis so, by heavens! by heavens, 'tis

Taras Bulba shrugged his shoulders in amazement at the Jewish nature, and went on to the camp.

All Southwest Poland speedily became a prey to fear. Everywhere the rumour flew, "The Zaporozhtzi! The

Zaporozhtzi have appeared!" All who could flee did so. All rose and scattered after the manner of that

lawless, reckless age, when they built neither fortresses nor castles, but each man erected a temporary

dwelling of straw wherever he happened to find himself. He thought, "It is useless to waste money and labour

on an izba, when the roving Tatars will carry it off in any case." All was in an uproar: one exchanged his

plough and oxen for a horse and gun, and joined an armed band; another, seeking concealment, drove off his

cattle and carried off all the household stuff he could. Occasionally, on the road, some were encountered who

met their visitors with arms in their hands; but the majority fled before their arrival. All knew that it was hard

to deal with the raging and warlike throng known by the name of the Zaporozhian army; a body which, under

its independent and disorderly exterior, concealed an organisation well calculated for times of battle. The

horsemen rode steadily on without overburdening or heating their horses; the footsoldiers marched only by

night, resting during the day, and selecting for this purpose desert tracts, uninhabited spots, and forests, of

which there were then plenty. Spies and scouts were sent ahead to study the time, place, and method of

attack. And lo! the Zaporozhtzi suddenly appeared in those places where they were least expected: then all

were put to the sword; the villages were burned; and the horses and cattle which were not driven off behind

the army killed upon the spot. They seemed to be fiercely revelling, rather than carrying out a military

expedition. Our hair would stand on end nowadays at the horrible traits of that fierce, halfcivilised age,

which the Zaporozhtzi everywhere exhibited: children killed, women's breasts cut open, the skin flayed from

the legs up to the knees, and the victim then set at liberty. In short, the Cossacks paid their former debts in

coin of full weight. The abbot of one monastery, on hearing of their approach, sent two monks to say that

they were not behaving as they should; that there was an agreement between the Zaporozhtzi and the

government; that they were breaking faith with the king, and violating all international rights. "Tell your

bishop from me and from all the Zaporozhtzi," said the Koschevoi, "that he has nothing to fear: the Cossacks,

so far, have only lighted and smoked their pipes." And the magnificent abbey was soon wrapped in the

devouring flames, its tall Gothic windows showing grimly through the waves of fire as they parted. The

fleeing mass of monks, women, and Jews thronged into those towns where any hope lay in the garrison and

the civic forces. The aid sent in season by the government, but delayed on the way, consisted of a few troops

which either were unable to enter the towns or, seized with fright, turned their backs at the very first

encounter and fled on their swift horses. However, several of the royal commanders, who had conquered in

And here, above all, did our young Cossacks, disgusted with pillage, greed, and a feeble foe, and burning

with the desire to distinguish themselves in presence of their chiefs, seek to measure themselves in single

combat with the warlike and boastful Lyakhs, prancing on their spirited horses, with the sleeves of their

jackets thrown back and streaming in the wind. This game was inspiriting; they won at it many costly sets of

horsetrappings and valuable weapons. In a month the scarcely fledged birds attained their full growth, were

completely transformed, and became men; their features, in which hitherto a trace of youthful softness had

been visible, grew strong and grim. But it was pleasant to old Taras to see his sons among the foremost. It

seemed as though Ostap were designed by nature for the game of war and the difficult science of command.

Never once losing his head or becoming confused under any circumstances, he could, with a cool audacity

almost supernatural in a youth of twoandtwenty, in an instant gauge the danger and the whole scope of the

matter, could at once devise a means of escaping, but of escaping only that he might the more surely conquer.

His movements now began to be marked by the assurance which comes from experience, and in them could

be detected the germ of the future leader. His person strengthened, and his bearing grew majestically leonine.

"What a fine leader he will make one of these days!" said old Taras. "He will make a splendid leader, far

Andrii gave himself up wholly to the enchanting music of blades and bullets. He knew not what it was to

consider, or calculate, or to measure his own as against the enemy's strength. He gazed on battle with mad

delight and intoxication: he found something festal in the moments when a man's brain burns, when all things

wave and flutter before his eyes, when heads are stricken off, horses fall to the earth with a sound of thunder,

and he rides on like a drunken man, amid the whistling of bullets and the flashing of swords, dealing blows to

all, and heeding not those aimed at himself. More than once their father marvelled too at Andrii, seeing him,

stirred only by a flash of impulse, dash at something which a sensible man in cold blood never would have

attempted, and, by the sheer force of his mad attack, accomplish such wonders as could not but amaze even

men grown old in battle. Old Taras admired and said, "And he too will make a good warrior if the enemy

does not capture him meanwhile. He is not Ostap, but he is a dashing warrior, nevertheless."

The army decided to march straight on the city of Dubno, which, rumour said, contained much wealth and

many rich inhabitants. The journey was accomplished in a day and a half, and the Zaporozhtzi appeared

before the city. The inhabitants resolved to defend themselves to the utmost extent of their power, and to fight

to the last extremity, preferring to die in their squares and streets, and on their thresholds, rather than admit

the enemy to their houses. A high rampart of earth surrounded the city; and in places where it was low or

weak, it was strengthened by a wall of stone, or a house which served as a redoubt, or even an oaken

stockade. The garrison was strong and aware of the importance of their position. The Zaporozhtzi attacked

the wall fiercely, but were met with a shower of grapeshot. The citizens and residents of the town evidently

did not wish to remain idle, but gathered on the ramparts; in their eyes could be read desperate resistance. The

women too were determined to take part in the fray, and upon the heads of the Zaporozhians rained down

stones, casks of boiling water, and sacks of lime which blinded them. The Zaporozhtzi were not fond of

having anything to do with fortified places: sieges were not in their line. The Koschevoi ordered them to

retreat, saying, "It is useless, brother gentles; we will retire: but may I be a heathen Tatar, and not a Christian,

if we do not clear them out of that town! may they all perish of hunger, the dogs!" The army retreated,

surrounded the town, and, for lack of something to do, busied themselves with devastating the surrounding

country, burning the neighbouring villages and the ricks of unthreshed grain, and turning their droves of

horses loose in the cornfields, as yet untouched by the reapinghook, where the plump ears waved, fruit, as

luck would have it, of an unusually good harvest which should have liberally rewarded all tillers of the soil

With horror those in the city beheld their means of subsistence destroyed. Meanwhile the Zaporozhtzi, having

formed a double ring of their waggons around the city, disposed themselves as in the Setch in kurens, smoked

their pipes, bartered their booty for weapons, played at leapfrog and oddandeven, and gazed at the city

with deadly coldbloodedness. At night they lighted their camp fires, and the cooks boiled the porridge for

each kuren in huge copper cauldrons; whilst an alert sentinel watched all night beside the blazing fire. But the

Zaporozhtzi soon began to tire of inactivity and prolonged sobriety, unaccompanied by any fighting. The

Koschevoi even ordered the allowance of wine to be doubled, which was sometimes done in the army when

no difficult enterprises or movements were on hand. The young men, and Taras Bulba's sons in particular, did

not like this life. Andrii was visibly bored. "You silly fellow!" said Taras to him, "be patient, you will be

hetman one day. He is not a good warrior who loses heart in an important enterprise; but he who is not tired

even of inactivity, who endures all, and who even if he likes a thing can give it up." But hot youth cannot

agree with age; the two have different natures, and look at the same thing with different eyes.

But in the meantime Taras's band, led by Tovkatch, arrived; with him were also two osauls, the secretary, and

other regimental officers: the Cossacks numbered over four thousand in all. There were among them many

volunteers, who had risen of their own free will, without any summons, as soon as they had heard what the

matter was. The osauls brought to Taras's sons the blessing of their aged mother, and to each a picture in a

cypresswood frame from the Mezhigorski monastery at Kief. The two brothers hung the pictures round their

necks, and involuntarily grew pensive as they remembered their old mother. What did this blessing prophecy?

Was it a blessing for their victory over the enemy, and then a joyous return to their home with booty and

glory, to be everlastingly commemorated in the songs of guitarplayers? or was it . . . ? But the future is

unknown, and stands before a man like autumnal fogs rising from the swamps; birds fly foolishly up and

down in it with flapping wings, never recognising each other, the dove seeing not the vulture, nor the vulture

Ostap had long since attended to his duties and gone to the kuren. Andrii, without knowing why, felt a kind

of oppression at his heart. The Cossacks had finished their evening meal; the wonderful July night had

completely fallen; still he did not go to the kuren, nor lie down to sleep, but gazed unconsciously at the whole

scene before him. In the sky innumerable stars twinkled brightly. The plain was covered far and wide with

scattered waggons with swinging tarbuckets, smeared with tar, and loaded with every description of goods

and provisions captured from the foe. Beside the waggons, under the waggons, and far beyond the waggons,

Zaporozhtzi were everywhere visible, stretched upon the grass. They all slumbered in picturesque attitudes;

one had thrust a sack under his head, another his cap, and another simply made use of his comrade's side.

Swords, guns, matchlocks, short pipestems with copper mountings, iron awls, and a flint and steel were

inseparable from every Cossack. The heavy oxen lay with their feet doubled under them like huge whitish

masses, and at a distance looked like gray stones scattered on the slopes of the plain. On all sides the heavy

snores of sleeping warriors began to arise from the grass, and were answered from the plain by the ringing

neighs of their steeds, chafing at their hobbled feet. Meanwhile a certain threatening magnificence had

mingled with the beauty of the July night. It was the distant glare of the burning district afar. In one place the

flames spread quietly and grandly over the sky; in another, suddenly bursting into a whirlwind, they hissed

and flew upwards to the very stars, and floating fragments died away in the most distant quarter of the

heavens. Here the black, burned monastery like a grim Carthusian monk stood threatening, and displaying its

dark magnificence at every flash; there blazed the monastery garden. It seemed as though the trees could be

heard hissing as they stood wrapped in smoke; and when the fire burst forth, it suddenly lighted up the ripe

plums with a phosphoric lilaccoloured gleam, or turned the yellowing pears here and there to pure gold. In

the midst of them hung black against the wall of the building, or the trunk of a tree, the body of some poor

Jew or monk who had perished in the flames with the structure. Above the distant fires hovered a flock of

birds, like a cluster of tiny black crosses upon a fiery field. The town thus laid bare seemed to sleep; the

spires and roofs, and its palisade and walls, gleamed quietly in the glare of the distant conflagrations. Andrii

went the rounds of the Cossack ranks. The campfires, beside which the sentinels sat, were ready to go out at

any moment; and even the sentinels slept, having devoured oatmeal and dumplings with true Cossack

appetites. He was astonished at such carelessness, thinking, "It is well that there is no strong enemy at hand

and nothing to fear." Finally he went to one of the waggons, climbed into it, and lay down upon his back,

putting his clasped hands under his head; but he could not sleep, and gazed long at the sky. It was all open

before him; the air was pure and transparent; the dense clusters of stars in the Milky Way, crossing the sky

like a belt, were flooded with light. From time to time Andrii in some degree lost consciousness, and a light

mist of dream veiled the heavens from him for a moment; but then he awoke, and they became visible again.

During one of these intervals it seemed to him that some strange human figure flitted before him. Thinking it

to be merely a vision which would vanish at once, he opened his eyes, and beheld a withered, emaciated face

bending over him, and gazing straight into his own. Long coalblack hair, unkempt, dishevelled, fell from

beneath a dark veil which had been thrown over the head; whilst the strange gleam of the eyes, and the

deathlike tone of the sharpcut features, inclined him to think that it was an apparition. His hand

involuntarily grasped his gun; and he exclaimed almost convulsively: "Who are you? If you are an evil spirit,

avaunt! If you are a living being, you have chosen an ill time for your jest. I will kill you with one shot."

In answer to this, the apparition laid its finger upon its lips and seemed to entreat silence. He dropped his

hands and began to look more attentively. He recognised it to be a woman from the long hair, the brown

neck, and the halfconcealed bosom. But she was not a native of those regions: her wide cheekbones stood

out prominently over her hollow cheeks; her small eyes were obliquely set. The more he gazed at her

features, the more he found them familiar. Finally he could restrain himself no longer, and said, "Tell me,

"Two years ago in Kief!" repeated Andrii, endeavouring to collect in his mind all that lingered in his memory

of his former student life. He looked intently at her once more, and suddenly exclaimed at the top of his

"Sh!" cried the Tatar, clasping her hands with a supplicating glance, trembling all over, and turning her head

round in order to see whether any one had been awakened by Andrii's loud exclamation.

"Tell me, tell me, why are you here?" said Andrii almost breathlessly, in a whisper, interrupted every moment

"In the city!" he exclaimed, again almost in a shriek, and feeling all the blood suddenly rush to his heart.

"Because the old lord himself is in the city: he has been Waiwode of Dubno for the last year and a half."

"And not one of the inhabitants has had a morsel of bread for a long while; all have long been eating earth."

"The lady saw you from the city wall, among the Zaporozhtzi. She said to me, 'Go tell the warrior: if he

remembers me, let him come to me; and do not forget to make him give you a bit of bread for my aged

mother, for I do not wish to see my mother die before my very eyes. Better that I should die first, and she

afterwards! Beseech him; clasp his knees, his feet: he also has an aged mother, let him give you the bread for

"Good, so be it. Stand here beside the waggon, or, better still, lie down in it: no one will see you, all are

And he set off for the baggage waggons, which contained the provisions belonging to their kuren. His heart

beat. All the past, all that had been extinguished by the Cossack bivouacks, and by the stern battle of life,

flamed out at once on the surface and drowned the present in its turn. Again, as from the dark depths of the

sea, the noble lady rose before him: again there gleamed in his memory her beautiful arms, her eyes, her

laughing mouth, her thick darkchestnut hair, falling in curls upon her shoulders, and the firm, wellrounded

limbs of her maiden form. No, they had not been extinguished in his breast, they had not vanished, they had

simply been laid aside, in order, for a time, to make way for other strong emotions; but often, very often, the

young Cossack's deep slumber had been troubled by them, and often he had lain sleepless on his couch,

His heart beat more violently at the thought of seeing her again, and his young knees shook. On reaching the

baggage waggons, he had quite forgotten what he had come for; he raised his hand to his brow and rubbed it

long, trying to recollect what he was to do. At length he shuddered, and was filled with terror as the thought

suddenly occurred to him that she was dying of hunger. He jumped upon the waggon and seized several large

loaves of black bread; but then he thought, "Is this not food, suited to a robust and easily satisfied

Zaporozhetz, too coarse and unfit for her delicate frame?" Then he recollected that the Koschevoi, on the

previous evening, had reproved the cooks for having cooked up all the oatmeal into porridge at once, when

there was plenty for three times. Sure that he would find plenty of porridge in the kettles, he drew out his

father's travelling kettle and went with it to the cook of their kuren, who was sleeping beside two big

cauldrons, holding about ten pailfuls, under which the ashes still glowed. Glancing into them, he was amazed

to find them empty. It must have required supernatural powers to eat it all; the more so, as their kuren

numbered fewer than the others. He looked into the cauldron of the other kurensnothing anywhere.

Involuntarily the saying recurred to his mind, "The Zaporozhtzi are like children: if there is little they eat it, if

there is much they leave nothing." What was to be done? There was, somewhere in the waggon belonging to

his father's band, a sack of white bread, which they had found when they pillaged the bakery of the

monastery. He went straight to his father's waggon, but it was not there. Ostap had taken it and put it under

his head; and there he lay, stretched out on the ground, snoring so that the whole plain rang again. Andrii

seized the sack abruptly with one hand and gave it a jerk, so that Ostap's head fell to the ground. The elder

brother sprang up in his sleep, and, sitting there with closed eyes, shouted at the top of his lungs, "Stop them!

Stop the cursed Lyakhs! Catch the horses! catch the horses!""Silence! I'll kill you," shouted Andrii in

terror, flourishing the sack over him. But Ostap did not continue his speech, sank down again, and gave such

Andrii glanced timidly on all sides to see if Ostap's talking in his sleep had waked any of the Cossacks. Only

one longlocked head was raised in the adjoining kuren, and after glancing about, was dropped back on the

ground. After waiting a couple of minutes he set out with his load. The Tatar woman was lying where he had

left her, scarcely breathing. "Come, rise up. Fear not, all are sleeping. Can you take one of these loaves if I

cannot carry all?" So saying, he swung the sack on to his back, pulled out another sack of millet as he passed

the waggon, took in his hands the loaves he had wanted to give the Tatar woman to carry, and, bending

"Andrii," said old Bulba, as he passed. His heart died within him. He halted, trembling, and said softly,

"There's a woman with you. When I get up I'll give you a sound thrashing. Women will lead you to no good."

So saying, he leaned his hand upon his hand and gazed intently at the muffled form of the Tatar.

Andrii stood there, more dead than alive, not daring to look in his father's face. When he did raise his eyes

and glance at him, old Bulba was asleep, with his head still resting in the palm of his hand.

Andrii crossed himself. Fear fled from his heart even more rapidly than it had assailed it. When he turned to

look at the Tatar woman, she stood before him, muffled in her mantle, like a dark granite statue, and the

gleam of the distant dawn lighted up only her eyes, dull as those of a corpse. He plucked her by the sleeve,

and both went on together, glancing back continually. At length they descended the slope of a small ravine,

almost a hole, along the bottom of which a brook flowed lazily, overgrown with sedge, and strewed with

mossy boulders. Descending into this ravine, they were completely concealed from the view of all the plain

occupied by the Zaporovian camp. At least Andrii, glancing back, saw that the steep slope rose behind him

higher than a man. On its summit appeared a few blades of steppegrass; and behind them, in the sky, hung

the moon, like a golden sickle. The breeze rising on the steppe warned them that the dawn was not far off.

But nowhere was the crow of the cock heard. Neither in the city nor in the devastated neighbourhood had

there been a cock for a long time past. They crossed the brook on a small plank, beyond which rose the

opposite bank, which appeared higher than the one behind them and rose steeply. It seemed as though this

were the strong point of the citadel upon which the besieged could rely; at all events, the earthen wall was

lower there, and no garrison appeared behind it. But farther on rose the thick monastery walls. The steep bank

was overgrown with steppegrass, and in the narrow ravine between it and the brook grew tall reeds almost

as high as a man. At the summit of the bank were the remains of a wattled fence, which had formerly

surrounded some garden, and in front of it were visible the wide leaves of the burdock, from among which

rose blackthorn, and sunflowers lifting their heads high above all the rest. Here the Tatar flung off her

slippers and went barefoot, gathering her clothes up carefully, for the spot was marshy and full of water.

Forcing their way among the reeds, they stopped before a ruined outwork. Skirting this outwork, they found a

sort of earthen archan opening not much larger than the opening of an oven. The Tatar woman bent her

head and went first. Andrii followed, bending low as he could, in order to pass with his sacks; and both soon

Andrii could hardly move in the dark and narrow earthen burrow, as he followed the Tatar, dragging after

him his sacks of bread. "It will soon be light," said his guide: "we are approaching the spot where I placed a

light." And in fact the dark earthen walls began to be gradually lit up. They reached a widening in the passage

where, it seemed, there had once been a chapel; at least, there was a small table against the wall, like an altar,

and above, the faded, almost entirely obliterated picture of a Catholic Madonna. A small silver lamp hanging

before it barely illumined it. The Tatar stooped and picked up from the ground a copper candlestick which

she had left there, a candlestick with a tall, slender stem, and snuffers, pin, and extinguisher hanging about it

on chains. She lighted it at the silver lamp. The light grew stronger; and as they went on, now illumined by it,

The warrior's fresh, handsome countenance, overflowing with health and youth, presented a strong contrast to

the pale, emaciated face of his companion. The passage grew a little higher, so that Andrii could hold himself

erect. He gazed with curiosity at the earthen walls. Here and there, as in the catacombs at Kief, were niches in

the walls; and in some places coffins were standing. Sometimes they came across human bones which had

become softened with the dampness and were crumbling into dust. It was evident that pious folk had taken

refuge here from the storms, sorrows, and seductions of the world. It was extremely damp in some places;

indeed there was water under their feet at intervals. Andrii was forced to halt frequently to allow his

companion to rest, for her fatigue kept increasing. The small piece of bread she had swallowed only caused a

pain in her stomach, of late unused to food; and she often stood motionless for minutes together in one spot.

At length a small iron door appeared before them. "Glory be to God, we have arrived!" said the Tatar in a

faint voice, and tried to lift her hand to knock, but had no strength to do so. Andrii knocked hard at the door

in her stead. There was an echo as though a large space lay beyond the door; then the echo changed as if

resounding through lofty arches. In a couple of minutes, keys rattled, and steps were heard descending some

stairs. At length the door opened, and a monk, standing on the narrow stairs with the key and a light in his

hands, admitted them. Andrii involuntarily halted at the sight of a Catholic monkone of those who had

aroused such hate and disdain among the Cossacks that they treated them even more inhumanly than they

The monk, on his part, started back on perceiving a Zaporovian Cossack, but a whisper from the Tatar

reassured him. He lighted them in, fastened the door behind them, and led them up the stairs. They found

themselves beneath the dark and lofty arches of the monastery church. Before one of the altars, adorned with

tall candlesticks and candles, knelt a priest praying quietly. Near him on each side knelt two young choristers

in lilac cassocks and white lace stoles, with censers in their hands. He prayed for the performance of a

miracle, that the city might be saved; that their souls might be strengthened; that patience might be given

them; that doubt and timid, weakspirited mourning over earthly misfortunes might be banished. A few

women, resembling shadows, knelt supporting themselves against the backs of the chairs and dark wooden

benches before them, and laying their exhausted heads upon them. A few men stood sadly, leaning against

the columns upon which the wide arches rested. The stainedglass window above the altar suddenly glowed

with the rosy light of dawn; and from it, on the floor, fell circles of blue, yellow, and other colours,

illuminating the dim church. The whole altar was lighted up; the smoke from the censers hung a cloudy

rainbow in the air. Andrii gazed from his dark corner, not without surprise, at the wonders worked by the

light. At that moment the magnificent swell of the organ filled the whole church. It grew deeper and deeper,

expanded, swelled into heavy bursts of thunder; and then all at once, turning into heavenly music, its ringing

tones floated high among the arches, like clear maiden voices, and again descended into a deep roar and

thunder, and then ceased. The thunderous pulsations echoed long and tremulously among the arches; and

Then he felt some one plucking the shirt of his caftan. "It is time," said the Tatar. They traversed the church

unperceived, and emerged upon the square in front. Dawn had long flushed the heavens; all announced

sunrise. The square was empty: in the middle of it still stood wooden pillars, showing that, perhaps only a

week before, there had been a market here stocked with provisions. The streets, which were unpaved, were

simply a mass of dried mud. The square was surrounded by small, onestoried stone or mud houses, in the

walls of which were visible wooden stakes and posts obliquely crossed by carved wooden beams, as was the

manner of building in those days. Specimens of it can still be seen in some parts of Lithuania and Poland.

They were all covered with enormously high roofs, with a multitude of windows and airholes. On one side,

close to the church, rose a building quite detached from and taller than the rest, probably the townhall or

some official structure. It was two stories high, and above it, on two arches, rose a belvedere where a

The square seemed deserted, but Andrii thought he heard a feeble groan. Looking about him, he perceived, on

the farther side, a group of two or three men lying motionless upon the ground. He fixed his eyes more

intently on them, to see whether they were asleep or dead; and, at the same moment, stumbled over

something lying at his feet. It was the dead body of a woman, a Jewess apparently. She appeared to be young,

though it was scarcely discernible in her distorted and emaciated features. Upon her head was a red silk

kerchief; two rows of pearls or pearl beads adorned the beads of her headdress, from beneath which two

long curls hung down upon her shrivelled neck, with its tightly drawn veins. Beside her lay a child, grasping

convulsively at her shrunken breast, and squeezing it with involuntary ferocity at finding no milk there. He

neither wept nor screamed, and only his gently rising and falling body would have led one to guess that he

was not dead, or at least on the point of breathing his last. They turned into a street, and were suddenly

stopped by a madman, who, catching sight of Andrii's precious burden, sprang upon him like a tiger, and

clutched him, yelling, "Bread!" But his strength was not equal to his madness. Andrii repulsed him and he fell

to the ground. Moved with pity, the young Cossack flung him a loaf, which he seized like a mad dog,

gnawing and biting it; but nevertheless he shortly expired in horrible suffering, there in the street, from the

effect of long abstinence. The ghastly victims of hunger startled them at every step. Many, apparently unable

to endure their torments in their houses, seemed to run into the streets to see whether some nourishing power

might not possibly descend from the air. At the gate of one house sat an old woman, and it was impossible to

say whether she was asleep or dead, or only unconscious; at all events, she no longer saw or heard anything,

and sat immovable in one spot, her head drooping on her breast. From the roof of another house hung a worn

and wasted body in a rope noose. The poor fellow could not endure the tortures of hunger to the last, and had

At the sight of such terrible proofs of famine, Andrii could not refrain from saying to the Tatar, "Is there

really nothing with which they can prolong life? If a man is driven to extremities, he must feed on what he

has hitherto despised; he can sustain himself with creatures which are forbidden by the law. Anything can be

"They have eaten everything," said the Tatar, "all the animals. Not a horse, nor a dog, nor even a mouse is to

be found in the whole city. We never had any store of provisions in the town: they were all brought from the

"But how can you, while dying such a fearful death, still dream of defending the city?"

"Possibly the Waiwode might have surrendered; but yesterday morning the commander of the troops at

Buzhana sent a hawk into the city with a note saying that it was not to be given up; that he was coming to its

rescue with his forces, and was only waiting for another leader, that they might march together. And now

Andrii had already noticed from a distance this house, unlike the others, and built apparently by some Italian

architect. It was constructed of thin red bricks, and had two stories. The windows of the lower story were

sheltered under lofty, projecting granite cornices. The upper story consisted entirely of small arches, forming

a gallery; between the arches were iron gratings enriched with escutcheons; whilst upon the gables of the

house more coatsofarms were displayed. The broad external staircase, of tinted bricks, abutted on the

square. At the foot of it sat guards, who with one hand held their halberds upright, and with the other

supported their drooping heads, and in this attitude more resembled apparitions than living beings. They

neither slept nor dreamed, but seemed quite insensible to everything; they even paid no attention to who went

up the stairs. At the head of the stairs, they found a richlydressed warrior, armed capapie, and holding a

breviary in his hand. He turned his dim eyes upon them; but the Tatar spoke a word to him, and he dropped

them again upon the open pages of his breviary. They entered the first chamber, a large one, serving either as

a receptionroom, or simply as an anteroom; it was filled with soldiers, servants, secretaries, huntsmen,

cupbearers, and the other servitors indispensable to the support of a Polish magnate's estate, all seated along

the walls. The reek of extinguished candles was perceptible; and two were still burning in two huge

candlesticks, nearly as tall as a man, standing in the middle of the room, although morning had long since

peeped through the wide grated window. Andrii wanted to go straight on to the large oaken door adorned

with a coatofarms and a profusion of carved ornaments, but the Tatar pulled his sleeve and pointed to a

small door in the side wall. Through this they gained a corridor, and then a room, which he began to examine

attentively. The light which filtered through a crack in the shutter fell upon several objectsa crimson

curtain, a gilded cornice, and a painting on the wall. Here the Tatar motioned to Andrii to wait, and opened

the door into another room from which flashed the light of a fire. He heard a whispering, and a soft voice

which made him quiver all over. Through the open door he saw flit rapidly past a tall female figure, with a

long thick braid of hair falling over her uplifted hands. The Tatar returned and told him to go in.

He could never understand how he entered and how the door was shut behind him. Two candles burned in the

room and a lamp glowed before the images: beneath the lamp stood a tall table with steps to kneel upon

during prayer, after the Catholic fashion. But his eye did not seek this. He turned to the other side and

perceived a woman, who appeared to have been frozen or turned to stone in the midst of some quick

movement. It seemed as though her whole body had sought to spring towards him, and had suddenly paused.

And he stood in like manner amazed before her. Not thus had he pictured to himself that he should find her.

This was not the same being he had formerly known; nothing about her resembled her former self; but she

was twice as beautiful, twice as enchanting, now than she had been then. Then there had been something

unfinished, incomplete, about her; now here was a production to which the artist had given the finishing

stroke of his brush. That was a charming, giddy girl; this was a woman in the full development of her charms.

As she raised her eyes, they were full of feeling, not of mere hints of feeling. The tears were not yet dry in

them, and framed them in a shining dew which penetrated the very soul. Her bosom, neck, and arms were

moulded in the proportions which mark fully developed loveliness. Her hair, which had in former days waved

in light ringlets about her face, had become a heavy, luxuriant mass, a part of which was caught up, while

part fell in long, slender curls upon her arms and breast. It seemed as though her every feature had changed.

In vain did he seek to discover in them a single one of those which were engraved in his memorya single

one. Even her great pallor did not lessen her wonderful beauty; on the contrary, it conferred upon it an

irresistible, inexpressible charm. Andrii felt in his heart a noble timidity, and stood motionless before her.

She, too, seemed surprised at the appearance of the Cossack, as he stood before her in all the beauty and

might of his young manhood, and in the very immovability of his limbs personified the utmost freedom of

movement. His eyes beamed with clear decision; his velvet brows curved in a bold arch; his sunburnt cheeks

glowed with all the ardour of youthful fire; and his downy black moustache shone like silk.

"No, I have no power to thank you, noble sir," she said, her silvery voice all in a tremble. "God alone can

reward you, not I, a weak woman." She dropped her eyes, her lids fell over them in beautiful, snowy

semicircles, guarded by lashes long as arrows; her wondrous face bowed forward, and a delicate flush

overspread it from within. Andrii knew not what to say; he wanted to say everything. He had in his mind to

say it all ardently as it glowed in his heartand could not. He felt something confining his mouth; voice and

words were lacking; he felt that it was not for him, bred in the seminary and in the tumult of a roaming life, to

At that moment the Tatar entered the room. She had cut up the bread which the warrior had brought into

small pieces on a golden plate, which she placed before her mistress. The lady glanced at her, at the bread, at

her again, and then turned her eyes towards Andrii. There was a great deal in those eyes. That gentle glance,

expressive of her weakness and her inability to give words to the feeling which overpowered her, was far

more comprehensible to Andrii than any words. His heart suddenly grew light within him, all seemed made

smooth. The mental emotions and the feelings which up to that moment he had restrained with a heavy curb,

as it were, now felt themselves released, at liberty, and anxious to pour themselves out in a resistless torrent

of words. Suddenly the lady turned to the Tatar, and said anxiously, "But my mother? you took her some?"

"I carried him some; he said that he would come to thank the young lord in person."

She took the bread and raised it to her mouth. With inexpressible delight Andrii watched her break it with her

shining fingers and eat it; but all at once he recalled the man mad with hunger, who had expired before his

eyes on swallowing a morsel of bread. He turned pale and, seizing her hand, cried, "Enough! eat no more!

you have not eaten for so long that too much bread will be poison to you now." And she at once dropped her

hand, laid her bread upon the plate, and gazed into his eyes like a submissive child. And if any words could

express But neither chisel, nor brush, nor mighty speech is capable of expressing what is sometimes seen

in glances of maidens, nor the tender feeling which takes possession of him who receives such maiden

"My queen!" exclaimed Andrii, his heart and soul filled with emotion, "what do you need? what do you

wish? command me! Impose on me the most impossible task in all the world: I fly to fulfil it! Tell me to do

that which it is beyond the power of man to do: I will fulfil it if I destroy myself. I will ruin myself. And I

swear by the holy cross that ruin for your sake is as sweetbut no, it is impossible to say how sweet! I have

three farms; half my father's droves of horses are mine; all that my mother brought my father, and which she

still conceals from himall this is mine! Not one of the Cossacks owns such weapons as I; for the pommel

of my sword alone they would give their best drove of horses and three thousand sheep. And I renounce all

this, I discard it, I throw it aside, I will burn and drown it, if you will but say the word, or even move your

delicate black brows! But I know that I am talking madly and wide of the mark; that all this is not fitting here;

that it is not for me, who have passed my life in the seminary and among the Zaporozhtzi, to speak as they

speak where kings, princes, and all the best of noble knighthood have been. I can see that you are a different

being from the rest of us, and far above all other boyars' wives and maiden daughters."

With growing amazement the maiden listened, losing no single word, to the frank, sincere language in which,

as in a mirror, the young, strong spirit reflected itself. Each simple word of this speech, uttered in a voice

which penetrated straight to the depths of her heart, was clothed in power. She advanced her beautiful face,

pushed back her troublesome hair, opened her mouth, and gazed long, with parted lips. Then she tried to say

something and suddenly stopped, remembering that the warrior was known by a different name; that his

father, brothers, country, lay beyond, grim avengers; that the Zaporozhtzi besieging the city were terrible, and

that the cruel death awaited all who were within its walls, and her eyes suddenly filled with tears. She seized

a silk embroidered handkerchief and threw it over her face. In a moment it was all wet; and she sat for some

time with her beautiful head thrown back, and her snowy teeth set on her lovely underlip, as though she

suddenly felt the sting of a poisonous serpent, without removing the handkerchief from her face, lest he

"Speak but one word to me," said Andrii, and he took her satinskinned hand. A sparkling fire coursed

through his veins at the touch, and he pressed the hand lying motionless in his.

But she still kept silence, never taking the kerchief from her face, and remaining motionless.

She cast away the handkerchief, pushed aside the long hair which fell over her eyes, and poured out her heart

in sad speech, in a quiet voice, like the breeze which, rising on a beautiful evening, blows through the thick

growth of reeds beside the stream. They rustle, murmur, and give forth delicately mournful sounds, and the

traveller, pausing in inexplicable sadness, hears them, and heeds not the fading light, nor the gay songs of the

peasants which float in the air as they return from their labours in meadow and stubblefield, nor the distant

"Am not I worthy of eternal pity? Is not the mother that bore me unhappy? Is it not a bitter lot which has

befallen me? Art not thou a cruel executioner, fate? Thou has brought all to my feetthe highest nobles in

the land, the richest gentlemen, counts, foreign barons, all the flower of our knighthood. All loved me, and

any one of them would have counted my love the greatest boon. I had but to beckon, and the best of them, the

handsomest, the first in beauty and birth would have become my husband. And to none of them didst thou

incline my heart, O bitter fate; but thou didst turn it against the noblest heroes of our land, and towards a

stranger, towards our enemy. O most holy mother of God! for what sin dost thou so pitilessly, mercilessly,

persecute me? In abundance and superfluity of luxury my days were passed, the richest dishes and the

sweetest wine were my food. And to what end was it all? What was it all for? In order that I might at last die

a death more cruel than that of the meanest beggar in the kingdom? And it was not enough that I should be

condemned to so horrible a fate; not enough that before my own end I should behold my father and mother

perish in intolerable torment, when I would have willingly given my own life twenty times over to save them;

all this was not enough, but before my own death I must hear words of love such as I had never before

dreamed of. It was necessary that he should break my heart with his words; that my bitter lot should be

rendered still more bitter; that my young life should be made yet more sad; that my death should seem even

more terrible; and that, dying, I should reproach thee still more, O cruel fate! and theeforgive my sinO

As she ceased in despair, her feelings were plainly expressed in her face. Every feature spoke of gnawing

sorrow and, from the sadly bowed brow and downcast eyes to the tears trickling down and drying on her

"Such a thing was never heard of since the world began. It cannot be," said Andrii, "that the best and most

beautiful of women should suffer so bitter a fate, when she was born that all the best there is in the world

should bow before her as before a saint. No, you will not die, you shall not die! I swear by my birth and by all

there is dear to me in the world that you shall not die. But if it must be so; if nothing, neither strength, nor

prayer, nor heroism, will avail to avert this cruel fatethen we will die together, and I will die first. I will die

before you, at your beauteous knees, and even in death they shall not divide us."

"Deceive not yourself and me, noble sir," she said, gently shaking her beautiful head; "I know, and to my

great sorrow I know but too well, that it is impossible for you to love me. I know what your duty is, and your

faith. Your father calls you, your comrades, your country, and we are your enemies."

"And what are my father, my comrades, my country to me?" said Andrii, with a quick movement of his head,

and straightening up his figure like a poplar beside the river. "Be that as it may, I have no one, no one!" he

repeated, with that movement of the hand with which the Cossack expresses his determination to do some

unheardof deed, impossible to any other man. "Who says that the Ukraine is my country? Who gave it to me

for my country? Our country is the one our soul longs for, the one which is dearest of all to us. My country

isyou! That is my native land, and I bear that country in my heart. I will bear it there all my life, and I will

see whether any of the Cossacks can tear it thence. And I will give everything, barter everything, I will

Astounded, she gazed in his eyes for a space, like a beautiful statue, and then suddenly burst out sobbing; and

with the wonderful feminine impetuosity which only grandsouled, uncalculating women, created for fine

impulses of the heart, are capable of, threw herself upon his neck, encircling it with her wondrous snowy

arms, and wept. At that moment indistinct shouts rang through the street, accompanied by the sound of

trumpets and kettledrums; but he heard them not. He was only conscious of the beauteous mouth bathing him

with its warm, sweet breath, of the tears streaming down his face, and of her long, unbound perfumed hair,

At that moment the Tatar ran in with a cry of joy. "Saved, saved!" she cried, beside herself. "Our troops have

entered the city. They have brought corn, millet, flour, and Zaporozhtzi in chains!" But no one heard that "our

troops" had arrived in the city, or what they had brought with them, or how they had bound the Zaporozhtzi.

Filled with feelings untasted as yet upon earth, Andrii kissed the sweet mouth which pressed his cheek, and

the sweet mouth did not remain unresponsive. In this union of kisses they experienced that which it is given

And the Cossack was ruined. He was lost to Cossack chivalry. Never again will Zaporozhe, nor his father's

house, nor the Church of God, behold him. The Ukraine will never more see the bravest of the children who

have undertaken to defend her. Old Taras may tear the grey hair from his scalplock, and curse the day and

Noise and movement were rife in the Zaporozhian camp. At first, no one could account for the relieving army

having made its way into the city; but it afterwards appeared that the Pereyaslavsky kuren, encamped before

the wide gate of the town, had been dead drunk. It was no wonder that half had been killed, and the other half

bound, before they knew what it was all about. Meantime the neighbouring kurens, aroused by the tumult,

succeeded in grasping their weapons; but the relieving force had already passed through the gate, and its rear

ranks fired upon the sleepy and only halfsober Zaporozhtzi who were pressing in disorder upon them, and

The Koschevoi ordered a general assembly; and when all stood in a ring and had removed their caps and

became quiet, he said: "See what happened last night, brother gentles! See what drunkenness has led to! See

what shame the enemy has put upon us! It is evident that, if your allowances are kindly doubled, then you are

ready to stretch out at full length, and the enemies of Christ can not only take your very trousers off you, but

The Cossacks all stood with drooping heads, knowing that they were guilty; only Kukubenko, the hetman of

the Nezamisky kuren, answered back. "Stop, father!" said he; "although it is not lawful to make a retort when

the Koschevoi speaks before the whole army, yet it is necessary to say that that was not the state of the case.

You have not been quite just in your reprimand. The Cossacks would have been guilty, and deserving of

death, had they got drunk on the march, or when engaged on heavy toilsome labour during war; but we have

been sitting here unoccupied, loitering in vain before the city. There was no fast or other Christian restraint;

how then could it be otherwise than that a man should get drunk in idleness? There is no sin in that. But we

had better show them what it is to attack innocent people. They first beat us well, and now we will beat them

The speech of the hetman of the kuren pleased the Cossacks. They raised their drooping heads upright and

many nodded approvingly, muttering, "Kukubenko has spoken well!" And Taras Bulba, who stood not far

from the Koschevoi, said: "How now, Koschevoi? Kukubenko has spoken truth. What have you to say to

"What have I to say? I say, Blessed be the father of such a son! It does not need much wisdom to utter words

of reproof; but much wisdom is needed to find such words as do not embitter a man's misfortune, but

encourage him, restore to him his spirit, put spurs to the horse of his soul, refreshed by water. I meant myself

"The Koschevoi has also spoken well!" rang through the ranks of the Zaporozhtzi. "His words are good,"

repeated others. And even the greyheads, who stood there like dark blue doves, nodded their heads and,

"Listen now, gentles," continued the Koschevoi. "To take the city, by scaling its walls, or undermining them

as the foreign engineers do, is not proper, not Cossack fashion. But, judging from appearances, the enemy

entered the city without many provisions; they had not many waggons with them. The people in the city are

hungry; they will all eat heartily, and the horses will soon devour the hay. I don't know whether their saints

will fling them down anything from heaven with hayforks; God only knows that though there are a great

many Catholic priests among them. By one means or another the people will seek to leave the city. Divide

yourselves, therefore, into three divisions, and take up your posts before the three gates; five kurens before

the principal gate, and three kurens before each of the others. Let the Dadikivsky and Korsunsky kurens go

into ambush and Taras and his men into ambush too. The Titarevsky and Timoschevsky kurens are to guard

the baggage train on the right flank, the Scherbinovsky and Steblikivsky on the left, and to select from their

ranks the most daring young men to face the foe. The Lyakhs are of a restless nature and cannot endure a

siege, and perhaps this very day they will sally forth from the gates. Let each hetman inspect his kuren; those

whose ranks are not full are to be recruited from the remains of the Pereyaslavsky kuren. Inspect them all

anew. Give a loaf and a beaker to each Cossack to strengthen him. But surely every one must be satiated from

last night; for all stuffed themselves so that, to tell the truth, I am only surprised that no one burst in the night.

And here is one further command: if any Jew spiritseller sells a Cossack so much as a single jug of brandy, I

will nail pig's ears to his very forehead, the dog, and hang him up by his feet. To work, brothers, to work!"

Thus did the Koschevoi give his orders. All bowed to their girdles, and without putting on their caps set out

for their waggons and camps. It was only when they had gone some distance that they covered themselves.

All began to equip themselves: they tested their swords, poured powder from the sacks into their

On his way to his band, Taras wondered what had become of Andrii; could he have been captured and found

while asleep with the others? But no, Andrii was not the man to go alive into captivity. Yet he was not to be

seen among the slaughtered Cossacks. Taras pondered deeply and went past his men without hearing that

some one had for some time been calling him by name. "Who wants me?" he said, finally arousing himself

from his reflections. Before him stood the Jew, Yankel. "Lord colonel! lord colonel!" said the Jew in a hasty

and broken voice, as though desirous of revealing something not utterly useless, "I have been in the city, lord

Taras looked at the Jew, and wondered how he had succeeded in getting into the city. "What enemy took you

"I will tell you at once," said Yankel. "As soon as I heard the uproar this morning, when the Cossacks began

to fire, I seized my caftan and, without stopping to put it on, ran at the top of my speed, thrusting my arms in

on the way, because I wanted to know as soon as possible the cause of the noise and why the Cossacks were

firing at dawn. I ran to the very gate of the city, at the moment when the last of the army was passing through.

I looked, and in command of the rearguard was Cornet Galyandovitch. He is a man well known to me; he has

owed me a hundred ducats these three years past. I ran after him, as though to claim the debt of him, and so

"You entered the city, and wanted him to settle the debt!" said Bulba; "and he did not order you to be hung

"By heavens, he did want to hang me," replied the Jew; "his servants had already seized me and thrown a

rope about my neck. But I besought the noble lord, and said that I would wait for the money as long as his

lordship liked, and promised to lend him more if he would only help me to collect my debts from the other

nobles; for I can tell my lord that the noble cornet had not a ducat in his pocket, although he has farms and

estates and four castles and steppeland that extends clear to Schklof; but he has not a penny, any more than

a Cossack. If the Breslau Jews had not equipped him, he would never have gone on this campaign. That was

"Certainly, there are many of them there: Itzok, Rachum, Samuel, Khaivalkh, Evrei the pawnbroker"

"May they die, the dogs!" shouted Taras in a rage. "Why do you name your Jewish tribe to me? I ask you

"You saw Andrii!" shouted Bulba. "What is he doing? Where did you see him? In a dungeon? in a pit?

"Who would dare to bind Lord Andrii? now he is so grand a knight. I hardly recognised him. Gold on his

shoulders and his belt, gold everywhere about him; as the sun shines in spring, when every bird twitters and

sings in the orchard, so he shines, all gold. And his horse, which the Waiwode himself gave him, is the very

"He put them on because they were finer. And he rides about, and the others ride about, and he teaches them,

"I should not say that he had been forced. Does not my lord know that he went over to them of his own free

"How is it possible that I should lie? Am I a fool, that I should lie? Would I lie at the risk of my head? Do not

"Then it means, according to you, he has betrayed his native land and his faith?"

"I do not say that he has betrayed anything; I merely said that he had gone over to the other side."

"You lie, you imp of a Jew! Such a deed was never known in a Christian land. You are making a mistake,

"May the grass grow upon the threshold of my house if I am mistaken! May every one spit upon the grave of

my father, my mother, my father's father, and my mother's father, if I am mistaken! If my lord wished I can

"The Waiwode has a beautiful daughter. Holy Father! what a beauty!" Here the Jew tried his utmost to

express beauty by extending his hands, screwing up his eyes, and twisting his mouth to one side as though

"He did it all for her, he went there for her sake. When a man is in love, then all things are the same to him;

like the sole of a shoe which you can bend in any direction if you soak it in water."

Bulba reflected deeply. He remembered the power of weak womanhow she had ruined many a strong man,

and that this was the weak point in Andrii's natureand stood for some time in one spot, as though rooted

there. "Listen, my lord, I will tell my lord all," said the Jew. "As soon as I heard the uproar, and saw them

going through the city gate, I seized a string of pearls, in case of any emergency. For there are beauties and

noblewomen there; 'and if there are beauties and noblewomen,' I said to myself, 'they will buy pearls, even

if they have nothing to eat.' And, as soon as ever the cornet's servants had set me at liberty, I hastened to the

Waiwode's residence to sell my pearls. I asked all manner of questions of the lady's Tatar maid; the wedding

is to take place immediately, as soon as they have driven off the Zaporozhtzi. Lord Andrii has promised to

"Why should I kill him? He went over of his own free will. What is his crime? He liked it better there, so he

"Face to face, by heavens! such a magnificent warrior! more splendid than all the rest. God bless him, he

"He said First he beckoned me with his finger, and then he said, 'Yankel!' Lord Andrii said, 'Yankel, tell

my father, tell my brother, tell all the Cossacks, all the Zaporozhtzi, everybody, that my father is no longer

my father, nor my brother my brother, nor my comrades my comrades; and that I will fight them all, all.'"

"You lie, imp of a Jew!" shouted Taras, beside himself. "You lie, dog! I will kill you, Satan! Get away from

The terrified Jew set off instantly, at the full speed of his thin, shrunken legs. He ran for a long time, without

looking back, through the Cossack camp, and then far out on the deserted plain, although Taras did not chase

him at all, reasoning that it was foolish to thus vent his rage on the first person who presented himself.

Then he recollected that he had seen Andrii on the previous night traversing the camp with some woman, and

he bowed his grey head. Still he would not believe that so disgraceful a thing could have happened, and that

Finally he placed his men in ambush in a woodthe only one which had not been burned by the

Cossackswhilst the Zaporozhians, foot and horse, set out for the three gates by three different roads. One

after another the kurens turned out: Oumansky, Popovichesky, Kanevsky, Steblikovsky, Nezamaikovsky,

Gurgazif, Titarevsky, Tomischevsky. The Pereyaslavsky kuren alone was wanting. Its Cossacks had smoked

and drank to their destruction. Some awoke to find themselves bound in the enemy's hands; others never

woke at all but passed in their sleep into the damp earth; and the hetman Khlib himself, minus his trousers

The uproar among the Zaporozhtzi was heard in the city. All the besieged hastened to the ramparts, and a

lively scene was presented to the Cossacks. The handsome Polish heroes thronged on the wall. The brazen

helmets of some shone like the sun, and were adorned with feathers white as swans. Others wore pink and

blue caps, drooping over one ear, and caftans with the sleeves thrown back, embroidered with gold. Their

weapons were richly mounted and very costly, as were their equipments. In the front rank the Budzhakovsky

colonel stood proudly in his red cap ornamented with gold. He was a tall, stout man, and his rich and ample

caftan hardly covered him. Near the side gate stood another colonel. He was a driedup little man, but his

small, piercing eyes gleamed sharply from under his thick and shaggy brows, and as he turned quickly on all

sides, motioning boldly with his thin, withered hand, and giving out his orders, it was evident that, in spite of

his little body, he understood military science thoroughly. Not far from him stood a very tall cornet, with

thick moustaches and a highlycoloured complexiona noble fond of strong mead and hearty revelry.

Behind them were many nobles who had equipped themselves, some with their own ducats, some from the

royal treasury, some with money obtained from the Jews, by pawning everything they found in their ancestral

castles. Many too were parasites, whom the senators took with them to dinners for show, and who stole silver

cups from the table and the sideboard, and when the day's display was over mounted some noble's coachbox

and drove his horses. There were folk of all kinds there. Sometimes they had not enough to drink, but all were

The Cossack ranks stood quietly before the walls. There was no gold about them, save where it shone on the

hilt of a sword or the mountings of a gun. The Zaporozhtzi were not given to decking themselves out gaily for

battle: their coatsofmail and garments were plain, and their blackbordered redcrowned caps showed

Two menOkhrim Nasch and Mikiga Golokopuitenkoadvanced from the Zaporozhian ranks. One was

quite young, the other older; both fierce in words, and not bad specimens of Cossacks in action. They were

followed by Demid Popovitch, a strongly built Cossack who had been hanging about the Setch for a long

time, after having been in Adrianople and undergoing a great deal in the course of his life. He had been

burned, and had escaped to the Setch with blackened head and singed moustaches. But Popovitch recovered,

let his hair grow, raised moustaches thick and black as pitch, and was a stout fellow, according to his own

"Red jackets on all the army, but I should like to know what sort of men are under them," he cried.

"I will show you," shouted the stout colonel from above. "I will capture the whole of you. Surrender your

guns and horses, slaves. Did you see how I caught your men?Bring out a Zaporozhetz on the wall for them

Before them stood Khlib, the hetman of the Pereyaslavsky kuren, without his trousers or accoutrements, just

as they had captured him in his drunken sleep. He bowed his head in shame before the Cossacks at his

nakedness, and at having been thus taken like a dog, while asleep. His hair had turned grey in one night.

"Grieve not, friend," cried the hetman Borodaty. "It is not your fault that they caught you naked: that

misfortune might happen to any man. But it is a disgrace to them that they should have exposed you to

"You seem to be a brave army when you have people who are asleep to fight," remarked Golokopuitenko,

"I should like to see them singe our scalp locks!" said Popovitch, prancing about before them on his horse;

and then, glancing at his comrades, he added, "Well, perhaps the Lyakhs speak the truth: if that fatbellied

"Why do you think they will find a good shelter?" asked the Cossacks, knowing that Popovitch was probably

"Because the whole army will hide behind him; and the devil himself couldn't help you to reach any one with

The Cossacks laughed, some of them shaking their heads and saying, "What a fellow Popovitch is for a joke!

but now" But the Cossacks had not time to explain what they meant by that "now."

"Fall back, fall back quickly from the wall!" shouted the Koschevoi, seeing that the Lyakhs could not endure

The Cossacks had hardly retreated from the wall before the grapeshot rained down. On the ramparts all was

excitement, and the greyhaired Waiwode himself appeared on horseback. The gates opened and the garrison

sallied forth. In the van came hussars in orderly ranks, behind them the horsemen in armour, and then the

heroes in brazen helmets; after whom rode singly the highest nobility, each man accoutred as he pleased.

These haughty nobles would not mingle in the ranks with others, and such of them as had no commands rode

apart with their own immediate following. Next came some more companies, and after these the cornet, then

more files of men, and the stout colonel; and in the rear of the whole force the little colonel.

"Keep them from forming in line!" shouted the Koschevoi; "let all the kurens attack them at once! Block the

other gate! Titarevsky kuren, fall on one flank! Dyadovsky kuren, charge on the other! Attack them in the

rear, Kukubenko and Palivod! Check them, break them!" The Cossacks attacked on all sides, throwing the

Lyakhs into confusion and getting confused themselves. They did not even give the foe time to fire, it came

to swords and spears at once. All fought hand to hand, and each man had an opportunity to distinguish

Demid Popovitch speared three soldiers, and struck two of the highest nobles from their saddles, saying,

"Good horses! I have long wanted just such horses." And he drove the horses far afield, shouting to the

Cossacks standing about to catch them. Then he rushed again into the fray, fell upon the dismounted nobles,

slew one, and throwing his lasso round the neck of the other, tied him to his saddle and dragged him over the

plain, after having taken from him his sword from its rich hilt and removed from his girdle a whole bag of

Kobita, a good Cossack, though still very young, attacked one of the bravest men in the Polish army, and they

fought long together. They grappled, and the Cossack mastering his foe, and throwing him down, stabbed

him in the breast with his sharp Turkish knife. But he did not look out for himself, and a bullet struck him on

the temple. The man who struck him down was the most distinguished of the nobles, the handsomest scion of

an ancient and princely race. Like a stately poplar, he bestrode his duncoloured steed, and many heroic

deeds did he perform. He cut two Cossacks in twain. Fedor Korzh, the brave Cossack, he overthrew together

with his horse, shooting the steed and picking off the rider with his spear. Many heads and hands did he hew

"There's a man I should like to measure strength with!" shouted Kukubenko, the hetman of the

Nezamaikovsky kuren. Spurring his horse, he dashed straight at the Pole's back, shouting loudly, so that all

who stood near shuddered at the unearthly yell. The boyard tried to wheel his horse suddenly and face him,

but his horse would not obey him; scared by the terrible cry, it bounded aside, and the Lyakh received

Kukubenko's fire. The ball struck him in the shoulderblade, and he rolled from his saddle. Even then he did

not surrender and strove to deal his enemy a blow, but his hand was weak. Kukubenko, taking his heavy

sword in both hands, thrust it through his mouth. The sword, breaking out two teeth, cut the tongue in twain,

pierced the windpipe, and penetrated deep into the earth, nailing him to the ground. His noble blood, red as

viburnum berries beside the river, welled forth in a stream staining his yellow, goldembroidered caftan. But

Kukubenko had already left him, and was forcing his way, with his Nezamaikovsky kuren, towards another

"He has left untouched rich plunder," said Borodaty, hetman of the Oumansky kuren, leaving his men and

going to the place where the nobleman killed by Kukubenko lay. "I have killed seven nobles with my own

hand, but such spoil I never beheld on any one." Prompted by greed, Borodaty bent down to strip off the rich

armour, and had already secured the Turkish knife set with precious stones, and taken from the foe's belt a

purse of ducats, and from his breast a silver case containing a maiden's curl, cherished tenderly as a

lovetoken. But he heeded not how the redfaced cornet, whom he had already once hurled from the saddle

and given a good blow as a remembrance, flew upon him from behind. The cornet swung his arm with all his

might, and brought his sword down upon Borodaty's bent neck. Greed led to no good: the head rolled off, and

the body fell headless, sprinkling the earth with blood far and wide; whilst the Cossack soul ascended,

indignant and surprised at having so soon quitted so stout a frame. The cornet had not succeeded in seizing

the hetman's head by its scalplock, and fastening it to his saddle, before an avenger had arrived.

As a hawk floating in the sky, sweeping in great circles with his mighty wings, suddenly remains poised in

air, in one spot, and thence darts down like an arrow upon the shrieking quail, so Taras's son Ostap darted

suddenly upon the cornet and flung a rope about his neck with one cast. The cornet's red face became a still

deeper purple as the cruel noose compressed his throat, and he tried to use his pistol; but his convulsively

quivering hand could not aim straight, and the bullet flew wild across the plain. Ostap immediately

unfastened a silken cord which the cornet carried at his saddle bow to bind prisoners, and having with it

bound him hand and foot, attached the cord to his saddle and dragged him across the field, calling on all the

Cossacks of the Oumansky kuren to come and render the last honours to their hetman.

When the Oumantzi heard that the hetman of their kuren, Borodaty, was no longer among the living, they

deserted the field of battle, rushed to secure his body, and consulted at once as to whom they should select as

their leader. At length they said, "But why consult? It is impossible to find a better leader than Bulba's son,

Ostap; he is younger than all the rest of us, it is true; but his judgment is equal to that of the eldest."

Ostap, taking off his cap, thanked his comrades for the honour, and did not decline it on the ground of youth

or inexperience, knowing that war time is no fitting season for that; but instantly ordered them straight to the

fray, and soon showed them that not in vain had they chosen him as hetman. The Lyakhs felt that the matter

was growing too hot for them, and retreated across the plain in order to form again at its other end. But the

little colonel signalled to the reserve of four hundred, stationed at the gate, and these rained shot upon the

Cossacks. To little purpose, however, their shot only taking effect on the Cossack oxen, which were gazing

wildly upon the battle. The frightened oxen, bellowing with fear, dashed into the camp, breaking the line of

waggons and trampling on many. But Taras, emerging from ambush at the moment with his troops, headed

off the infuriated cattle, which, startled by his yell, swooped down upon the Polish troops, overthrew the

"Thank you, oxen!" cried the Zaporozhtzi; "you served us on the march, and now you serve us in war." And

they attacked the foe with fresh vigour killing many of the enemy. Several distinguished

themselvesMetelitza and Schilo, both of the Pisarenki, Vovtuzenko, and many others. The Lyakhs seeing

that matters were going badly for them flung away their banners and shouted for the city gates to be opened.

With a screeching sound the ironbound gates swung open and received the weary and dustcovered riders,

flocking like sheep into a fold. Many of the Zaporozhtzi would have pursued them, but Ostap stopped his

Oumantzi, saying, "Farther, farther from the walls, brother gentles! it is not well to approach them too

closely." He spoke truly; for from the ramparts the foe rained and poured down everything which came to

hand, and many were struck. At that moment the Koschevoi came up and congratulated him, saying, "Here is

the new hetman leading the army like an old one!" Old Bulba glanced round to see the new hetman, and

beheld Ostap sitting on his horse at the head of the Oumantzi, his cap on one side and the hetman's staff in his

hand. "Who ever saw the like!" he exclaimed; and the old man rejoiced, and began to thank all the Oumantzi

The Cossacks retired, preparing to go into camp; but the Lyakhs showed themselves again on the city

ramparts with tattered mantles. Many rich caftans were spotted with blood, and dust covered the brazen

"We will do so!" shouted the big colonel from above, showing them a rope. The weary, dustcovered

warriors ceased not to threaten, nor the most zealous on both sides to exchange fierce remarks.

At length all dispersed. Some, weary with battle, stretched themselves out to rest; others sprinkled their

wounds with earth, and bound them with kerchiefs and rich stuffs captured from the enemy. Others, who

were fresher, began to inspect the corpses and to pay them the last honours. They dug graves with swords and

spears, brought earth in their caps and the skirts of their garments, laid the Cossacks' bodies out decently, and

covered them up in order that the ravens and eagles might not claw out their eyes. But binding the bodies of

the Lyakhs, as they came to hand, to the tails of horses, they let these loose on the plain, pursuing them and

beating them for some time. The infuriated horses flew over hill and hollow, through ditch and brook,

dragging the bodies of the Poles, all covered with blood and dust, along the ground.

All the kurens sat down in circles in the evening, and talked for a long time of their deeds, and of the

achievements which had fallen to the share of each, for repetition by strangers and posterity. It was long

before they lay down to sleep; and longer still before old Taras, meditating what it might signify that Andrii

was not among the foe, lay down. Had the Judas been ashamed to come forth against his own countrymen? or

had the Jew been deceiving him, and had he simply gone into the city against his will? But then he

recollected that there were no bounds to a woman's influence upon Andrii's heart; he felt ashamed, and swore

a mighty oath to himself against the fair Pole who had bewitched his son. And he would have kept his oath.

He would not have looked at her beauty; he would have dragged her forth by her thick and splendid hair; he

would have trailed her after him over all the plain, among all the Cossacks. Her beautiful shoulders and

bosom, white as freshfallen snow upon the mountaintops, would have been crushed to earth and covered

with blood and dust. Her lovely body would have been torn to pieces. But Taras, who did not foresee what

God prepares for man on the morrow, began to grow drowsy, and finally fell asleep. The Cossacks still talked

among themselves; and the sober sentinel stood all night long beside the fire without blinking and keeping a

The sun had not ascended midway in the heavens when all the army assembled in a group. News had come

from the Setch that during the Cossacks' absence the Tatars had plundered it completely, unearthed the

treasures which were kept concealed in the ground, killed or carried into captivity all who had remained

behind, and straightway set out, with all the flocks and droves of horses they had collected, for Perekop. One

Cossack only, Maksin Galodukha, had broken loose from the Tatars' hands, stabbed the Mirza, seized his bag

of sequins, and on a Tatar horse, in Tatar garments, had fled from his pursuers for two nights and a day and a

half, ridden his horse to death, obtained another, killed that one too, and arrived at the Zaporozhian camp

upon a third, having learned upon the road that the Zaporozhtzi were before Dubno. He could only manage to

tell them that this misfortune had taken place; but as to how it happenedwhether the remaining Zaporozhtzi

had been carousing after Cossack fashion, and had been carried drunk into captivity, and how the Tatars were

aware of the spot where the treasures of the army were concealedhe was too exhausted to say. Extremely

fatigued, his body swollen, and his face scorched and weatherbeaten, he had fallen down, and a deep sleep

In such cases it was customary for the Cossacks to pursue the robbers at once, endeavouring to overtake them

on the road; for, let the prisoners once be got to the bazaars of Asia Minor, Smyrna, or the island of Crete,

and God knows in what places the tufted heads of Zaporozhtzi might not be seen. This was the occasion of

the Cossacks' assembling. They all stood to a man with their caps on; for they had not met to listen to the

commands of their hetman, but to take counsel together as equals among equals. "Let the old men first

advise," was shouted to the crowd. "Let the Koschevoi give his opinion," cried others.

The Koschevoi, taking off his cap and speaking not as commander, but as a comrade among comrades,

thanked all the Cossacks for the honour, and said, "There are among us many experienced men and much

wisdom; but since you have thought me worthy, my counsel is not to lose time in pursuing the Tatars, for you

know yourselves what the Tatar is. He will not pause with his stolen booty to await our coming, but will

vanish in a twinkling, so that you can find no trace of him. Therefore my advice is to go. We have had good

sport here. The Lyakhs now know what Cossacks are. We have avenged our faith to the extent of our ability;

there is not much to satisfy greed in the famished city, and so my advice is to go."

"To go," rang heavily through the Zaporozhian kurens. But such words did not suit Taras Bulba at all; and he

brought his frowning, irongrey brows still lower down over his eyes, brows like bushes growing on dark

"No, Koschevoi, your counsel is not good," said he. "You cannot say that. You have evidently forgotten that

those of our men captured by the Lyakhs will remain prisoners. You evidently wish that we should not heed

the first holy law of comradeship; that we should leave our brethren to be flayed alive, or carried about

through the towns and villages after their Cossack bodies have been quartered, as was done with the hetman

and the bravest Russian warriors in the Ukraine. Have the enemy not desecrated the holy things sufficiently

without that? What are we? I ask you all what sort of a Cossack is he who would desert his comrade in

misfortune, and let him perish like a dog in a foreign land? If it has come to such a pass that no one has any

confidence in Cossack honour, permitting men to spit upon his grey moustache, and upbraid him with

"And have you forgotten, brave comrades," said the Koschevoi, "that the Tatars also have comrades of ours

in their hands; that if we do not rescue them now their lives will be sacrificed in eternal imprisonment among

the infidels, which is worse than the most cruel death? Have you forgotten that they now hold all our treasure,

The Cossacks reflected, not knowing what to say. None of them wished to deserve ill repute. Then there

stepped out in front of them the oldest in years of all the Zaporozhian army, Kasyan Bovdug. He was

respected by all the Cossacks. Twice had he been chosen Koschevoi, and had also been a stout warrior; but he

had long been old, and had ceased to go upon raids. Neither did the old man like to give advice to any one;

but loved to lie upon his side in the circle of Cossacks, listening to tales of every occurrence on the Cossack

marches. He never joined in the conversation, but only listened, and pressed the ashes with his finger in his

short pipe, which never left his mouth; and would sit so long with his eyes half open, that the Cossacks never

knew whether he were asleep or still listening. He always stayed at home during their raids, but this time the

old man had joined the army. He had waved his hand in Cossack fashion, and said, "Wherever you go, I am

going too; perhaps I may be of some service to the Cossack nation." All the Cossacks became silent when he

now stepped forward before the assembly, for it was long since any speech from him had been heard. Every

"It is my turn to speak a word, brother gentles," he began: "listen, my children, to an old man. The Koschevoi

spoke well as the head of the Cossack army; being bound to protect it, and in respect to the treasures of the

army he could say nothing wiser. That is so! Let that be my first remark; but now listen to my second. And

this is my second remark: Taras spoke even more truly. God grant him many years, and that such leaders may

be plentiful in the Ukraine! A Cossack's first duty and honour is to guard comradeship. Never in all my life,

brother gentles, have I heard of any Cossack deserting or betraying any of his comrades. Both those made

captive at the Setch and these taken here are our comrades. Whether they be few or many, it makes no

difference; all are our comrades, and all are dear to us. So this is my speech: Let those to whom the prisoners

captured by the Tatars are dear set out after the Tatars; and let those to whom the captives of the Poles are

dear, and who do not care to desert a righteous cause, stay behind. The Koschevoi, in accordance with his

duty, will accompany one half in pursuit of the Tatars, and the other half can choose a hetman to lead them.

But if you will heed the words of an old man, there is no man fitter to be the commanding hetman than Taras

Thus spoke Bovdug, and paused; and all the Cossacks rejoiced that the old man had in this manner brought

them to an agreement. All flung up their caps and shouted, "Thanks, father! He kept silence for a long, long

time, but he has spoken at last. Not in vain did he say, when we prepared for this expedition, that he might be

"Then listen to the military command, children," said the Koschevoi, stepping forward, and putting on his

cap; whilst all the Cossacks took off theirs, and stood with uncovered heads, and with eyes fixed upon the

earth, as was always the custom among them when the leader prepared to speak. "Now divide yourselves,

brother gentles! Let those who wish to go stand on the right, and those who wish to stay, on the left. Where

the majority of a kuren goes there its officers are to go: if the minority of a kuren goes over, it must be added

Then they began to take up their positions, some to the right and some to the left. Whither the majority of a

kuren went thither the hetman went also; and the minority attached itself to another kuren. It came out pretty

even on both sides. Those who wished to remain were nearly the whole of the Nezamaikovsky kuren, the

entire Oumansky kuren, the entire Kanevsky kuren, and the larger half of the Popovitchsky, the

Timoschevsky and the Steblikivsky kurens. All the rest preferred to go in pursuit of the Tatars. On both sides

there were many stout and brave Cossacks. Among those who decided to follow the Tatars were Tcherevaty,

and those good old Cossacks Pokotipole, Lemisch, and Prokopovitch Koma. Demid Popovitch also went with

that party, because he could not sit long in one place: he had tried his hand on the Lyakhs and wanted to try it

on the Tatars also. The hetmans of kurens were Nostiugan, Pokruischka, Nevnimsky, and numerous brave

and renowned Cossacks who wished to test their swords and muscles in an encounter with the Tatars. There

were likewise many brave Cossacks among those who preferred to remain, including the kuren hetmans,

Demitrovitch, Kukubenko, Vertikhvist, Balan, and Ostap Bulba. Besides these there were plenty of stout and

distinguished warriors: Vovtuzenko, Tcherevitchenko, Stepan Guska, Okhrim Guska, Vikola Gonstiy,

Zadorozhniy, Metelitza, Ivan Zakrutiguba, Mosiy Pisarenko, and still another Pisarenko, and many others.

They were all great travellers; they had visited the shores of Anatolia, the salt marshes and steppes of the

Crimea, all the rivers great and small which empty into the Dnieper, and all the fords and islands of the

Dnieper; they had been in Moldavia, Wallachia, and Turkey; they had sailed all over the Black Sea, in their

doubleruddered Cossack boats; they had attacked with fifty skiffs in line the tallest and richest ships; they

had sunk many a Turkish galley, and had burnt much, very much powder in their day; more than once they

had made footbandages from velvets and rich stuffs; more than once they had beaten buckles for their

girdles out of sequins. Every one of them had drunk and revelled away what would have sufficed any other

for a whole lifetime, and had nothing to show for it. They spent it all, like Cossacks, in treating all the world,

and in hiring music that every one might be merry. Even now few of them had amassed any property: some

caskets, cups, and bracelets were hidden beneath the reeds on the islands of the Dnieper in order that the

Tatars might not find them if by mishap they should succeed in falling suddenly on the Setch; but it would

have been difficult for the Tatars to find them, for the owners themselves had forgotten where they had buried

them. Such were the Cossacks who wished to remain and take vengeance on the Lyakhs for their trusty

comrades and the faith of Christ. The old Cossack Bovdug wished also to remain with them, saying, "I am

not of an age to pursue the Tatars, but this is a place to meet a good Cossack death. I have long prayed God

that when my life was to end I might end it in battle for a holy and Christian cause. And so it has come to

pass. There can be no more glorious end in any other place for the aged Cossack."

When they had all separated, and were ranged in two lines on opposite sides, the Koschevoi passed through

the ranks, and said, "Well, brother gentles, are the two parties satisfied with each other?"

"Then kiss each other, and bid each other farewell; for God knows whether you will ever see each other alive

again. Obey your hetman, but you know yourselves what you have to do: you know yourselves what Cossack

And all the Cossacks kissed each other. The hetmans first began it. Stroking down their grey moustaches,

they kissed each other, making the sign of the cross, and then, grasping hands firmly, wanted to ask of each

other, "Well, brother, shall we see one another again or not?" But they did not ask the question: they kept

silence, and both greyheads were lost in thought. Then the Cossacks took leave of each other to the last

man, knowing that there was a great deal of work before them all. Yet they were not obliged to part at once:

they would have to wait until night in order not to let the Lyakhs perceive the diminution in the Cossack

After dinner, all who had the prospect of the journey before them lay down to rest, and fell into a deep and

long sleep, as though foreseeing that it was the last sleep they should enjoy in such security. They slept even

until sunset; and when the sun had gone down and it had grown somewhat dusky, began to tar the waggons.

All being in readiness, they sent the waggons ahead, and having pulled off their caps once more to their

comrades, quietly followed the baggage train. The cavalry, without shouts or whistles to the horses, tramped

lightly after the footsoldiers, and all soon vanished in the darkness. The only sound was the dull thud of

horses' hoofs, or the squeak of some wheel which had not got into working order, or had not been properly

Their comrades stood for some time waving their hands, though nothing was visible. But when they returned

to their camping places and saw by the light of the gleaming stars that half the waggons were gone, and many

of their comrades, each man's heart grew sad; all became involuntarily pensive, and drooped their heads

Taras saw how troubled were the Cossack ranks, and that sadness, unsuited to brave men, had begun to

quietly master the Cossack hearts; but he remained silent. He wished to give them time to become

accustomed to the melancholy caused by their parting from their comrades; but, meanwhile, he was preparing

to rouse them at one blow, by a loud battlecry in Cossack fashion, in order that good cheer might return to

the soul of each with greater strength than before. Of this only the Slav nature, a broad, powerful nature,

which is to others what the sea is to small rivulets, is capable. In stormy times it roars and thunders, raging,

and raising such waves as weak rivers cannot throw up; but when it is windless and quiet, it spreads its

boundless glassy surface, clearer than any river, a constant delight to the eye.

Taras ordered his servants to unload one of the waggons which stood apart. It was larger and stronger than

any other in the Cossack camp; two stout tires encircled its mighty wheels. It was heavily laden, covered with

horsecloths and strong wolfskins, and firmly bound with tightly drawn tarred ropes. In the waggon were

flasks and casks of good old wine, which had long lain in Taras's cellar. He had brought it along, in case a

moment should arrive when some deed awaited them worthy of being handed down to posterity, so that each

Cossack, to the very last man, might quaff it, and be inspired with sentiments fitting to the occasion. On

receiving his command, the servants hastened to the waggon, hewed asunder the stout ropes with their

swords, removed the thick wolfskins and horsecloths, and drew forth the flasks and casks.

"Take them all," said Bulba, "all there are; take them, that every one may be supplied. Take jugs, or the pails

for watering the horses; take sleeve or cap; but if you have nothing else, then hold your two hands under."

All the Cossacks seized something: one took a jug, another a pail, another a sleeve, another a cap, and another

held both hands. Taras's servants, making their way among the ranks, poured out for all from the casks and

flasks. But Taras ordered them not to drink until he should give the signal for all to drink together. It was

evident that he wished to say something. He knew that however good in itself the wine might be and however

fitted to strengthen the spirit of man, yet, if a suitable speech were linked with it, then the strength of the wine

"I treat you, brother gentles," thus spoke Bulba, "not in honour of your having made me hetman, however

great such an honour may be, nor in honour of our parting from our comrades. To do both would be fitting at

a fitting time; but the moment before us is not such a time. The work before us is great both in labour and in

glory for the Cossacks. Therefore let us drink all together, let us drink before all else to the holy orthodox

faith, that the day may finally come when it may be spread over all the world, and that everywhere there may

be but one faith, and that all Mussulmans may become Christians. And let us also drink together to the Setch,

that it may stand long for the ruin of the Mussulmans, and that every year there may issue forth from it young

men, each better, each handsomer than the other. And let us drink to our own glory, that our grandsons and

their sons may say that there were once men who were not ashamed of comradeship, and who never betrayed

"To the faith!" cried those standing in the ranks hard by, with thick voices. "To the faith!" those more distant

"To the Setch!" echoed the foremost ranks. "To the Setch!" said the old men, softly, twitching their grey

moustaches; and eagerly as young hawks, the youths repeated, "To the Setch!" And the distant plain heard

"Now a last draught, comrades, to the glory of all Christians now living in the world!"

And every Cossack drank a last draught to the glory of all Christians in the world. And among all the ranks in

The pails were empty, but the Cossacks still stood with their hands uplifted. Although the eyes of all gleamed

brightly with the wine, they were thinking deeply. Not of greed or the spoils of war were they thinking now,

nor of who would be lucky enough to get ducats, fine weapons, embroidered caftans, and Tcherkessian

horses; but they meditated like eagles perched upon the rocky crests of mountains, from which the distant sea

is visible, dotted, as with tiny birds, with galleys, ships, and every sort of vessel, bounded only by the

scarcely visible lines of shore, with their ports like gnats and their forests like fine grass. Like eagles they

gazed out on all the plain, with their fate darkling in the distance. All the plain, with its slopes and roads, will

be covered with their white projecting bones, lavishly washed with their Cossack blood, and strewn with

shattered waggons and with broken swords and spears; the eagles will swoop down and tear out their Cossack

eyes. But there is one grand advantage: not a single noble deed will be lost, and the Cossack glory will not

vanish like the tiniest grain of powder from a gunbarrel. The guitarplayer with grey beard falling upon his

breast, and perhaps a whiteheaded old man still full of ripe, manly strength will come, and will speak his

low, strong words of them. And their glory will resound through all the world, and all who are born thereafter

will speak of them; for the word of power is carried afar, ringing like a booming brazen bell, in which the

maker has mingled much rich, pure silver, that is beautiful sound may be borne far and wide through the

In the city, no one knew that onehalf 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 waggons had been dragged into the forest; but it

was thought that the Cossacks were preparing an ambusha 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 kurens, and their

number, and how many had remained on the spot, and what they intended to do; in short, within a few

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 kurens in three camps, surrounding them with the waggons as bulwarksa

formation in which the Zaporozhtzi were invincibleordered two kurens 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 spiritshe knew their

souls were strong without thatbut 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

princesthe 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

wordyou 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 yellow shoe, is dearer to them than all brotherhood. But the very meanest of these vile

men, whoever he may be, given over though he be to vileness and slavishness, even he, brothers, has some

grains of Russian feeling; and they will assert themselves some day. And then the wretched man will beat his

breast with his hands; and will tear his hair, cursing his vile life loudly, and ready to expiate his disgraceful

deeds with torture. Let them know what brotherhood means on Russian soil! And if it has come to the point

that a man must die for his brotherhood, it is not fit that any of them should die so. No! none of them. It is not

Thus spoke the hetman; and after he had finished his speech he still continued to shake his head, which had

grown grey in Cossack service. All who stood there were deeply affected by his speech, which went to their

very hearts. The oldest in the ranks stood motionless, their grey heads drooping. Tears trickled quietly from

their aged eyes; they wiped them slowly away with their sleeves, and then all, as if with one consent, waved

their hands in the air at the same moment, and shook their experienced heads. For it was evident that old

Taras recalled to them many of the bestknown and finest traits of the heart in a man who has become wise

through suffering, toil, daring, and every earthly misfortune, or, though unknown to them, of many things felt

But the army of the enemy was already marching out of the city, sounding drums and trumpets; and the

nobles, with their arms akimbo, were riding forth too, surrounded by innumerable servants. The stout colonel

gave his orders, and they began to advance briskly on the Cossack camps, pointing their matchlocks

threateningly. Their eyes flashed, and they were brilliant with brass armour. As soon as the Cossacks saw that

they had come within gunshot, their matchlocks thundered all together, and they continued to fire without

The detonations resounded through the distant fields and meadows, merging into one continuous roar. The

whole plain was shrouded in smoke, but the Zaporozhtzi continued to fire without drawing breaththe rear

ranks doing nothing but loading the guns and handing them to those in front, thus creating amazement among

the enemy, who could not understand how the Cossacks fired without reloading. Amid the dense smoke

which enveloped both armies, it could not be seen how first one and then another dropped: but the Lyakhs

felt that the balls flew thickly, and that the affair was growing hot; and when they retreated to escape from the

smoke and see how matters stood, many were missing from their ranks, but only two or three out of a

hundred were killed on the Cossack side. Still the Cossacks went on firing off their matchlocks without a

moment's intermission. Even the foreign engineers were amazed at tactics heretofore unknown to them, and

said then and there, in the presence of all, "These Zaporozhtzi are brave fellows. That is the way men in other

lands ought to fight." And they advised that the cannons should at once be turned on the camps. Heavily

roared the iron cannons with their wide throats; the earth hummed and trembled far and wide, and the smoke

lay twice as heavy over the plain. They smelt the reek of the powder among the squares and streets in the

most distant as well as the nearest quarters of the city. But those who laid the cannons pointed them too high,

and the shot describing too wide a curve flew over the heads of the camps, and buried themselves deep in the

earth at a distance, tearing the ground, and throwing the black soil high in the air. At the sight of such lack of

skill the French engineer tore his hair, and undertook to lay the cannons himself, heeding not the Cossack

Taras saw from afar that destruction menaced the whole Nezamaikovsky and Steblikivsky kurens, and gave a

ringing shout, "Get away from the waggons instantly, and mount your horses!" But the Cossacks would not

have succeeded in effecting both these movements if Ostap had not dashed into the middle of the foe and

wrenched the linstocks from six cannoneers. But he could not wrench them from the other four, for the

Lyakhs drove him back. Meanwhile the foreign captain had taken the lunt in his own hand to fire the largest

cannon, such a cannon as none of the Cossacks had ever beheld before. It looked horrible with its wide

mouth, and a thousand deaths poured forth from it. And as it thundered, the three others followed, shaking in

fourfold earthquake the dully responsive earth. Much woe did they cause. For more than one Cossack wailed

the aged mother, beating with bony hands her feeble breast; more than one widow was left in Glukhof,

Nemirof, Chernigof, and other cities. The loving woman will hasten forth every day to the bazaar, grasping at

all passersby, scanning the face of each to see if there be not among them one dearer than all; but though

many an army will pass through the city, never among them will a single one of all their dearest be.

Half the Nezamaikovsky kuren was as if it had never been. As the hail suddenly beats down a field where

How the Cossacks hastened thither! How they all started up! How raged Kukubenko, the hetman, when he

saw that the best half of his kuren was no more! He fought his way with his remaining Nezamaikovtzi to the

very midst of the fray, cut down in his wrath, like a cabbage, the first man he met, hurled many a rider from

his steed, piercing both horse and man with his lance; and making his way to the gunners, captured some of

the cannons. Here he found the hetman of the Oumansky kuren, and Stepan Guska, hard at work, having

already seized the largest cannon. He left those Cossacks there, and plunged with his own into another mass

of the foe, making a lane through it. Where the Nezamaikovtzi passed there was a street; where they turned

about there was a square as where streets meet. The foemen's ranks were visibly thinning, and the Lyakhs

falling in sheaves. Beside the waggons stood Vovtuzenko, and in front Tcherevitchenko, and by the more

distant ones Degtyarenko; and behind them the kuren hetman, Vertikhvist. Degtyarenko had pierced two

Lyakhs with his spear, and now attacked a third, a stout antagonist. Agile and strong was the Lyakh, with

glittering arms, and accompanied by fifty followers. He fell fiercely upon Degtyarenko, struck him to the

earth, and, flourishing his sword above him, cried, "There is not one of you Cossack dogs who has dared to

"Here is one," said Mosiy Schilo, and stepped forward. He was a muscular Cossack, who had often

commanded at sea, and undergone many vicissitudes. The Turks had once seized him and his men at

Trebizond, and borne them captives to the galleys, where they bound them hand and foot with iron chains,

gave them no food for a week at a time, and made them drink seawater. The poor prisoners endured and

suffered all, but would not renounce their orthodox faith. Their hetman, Mosiy Schilo, could not bear it: he

trampled the Holy Scriptures under foot, wound the vile turban about his sinful head, and became the

favourite of a pasha, steward of a ship, and ruler over all the galley slaves. The poor slaves sorrowed greatly

thereat, for they knew that if he had renounced his faith he would be a tyrant, and his hand would be the more

heavy and severe upon them. So it turned out. Mosiy Schilo had them put in new chains, three to an oar. The

cruel fetters cut to the very bone; and he beat them upon the back. But when the Turks, rejoicing at having

obtained such a servant, began to carouse, and, forgetful of their law, got all drunk, he distributed all the

sixtyfour keys among the prisoners, in order that they might free themselves, fling their chains and manacles

into the sea, and, seizing their swords, in turn kill the Turks. Then the Cossacks collected great booty, and

returned with glory to their country; and the guitarplayers celebrated Mosiy Schilo's exploits for a long time.

They would have elected him Koschevoi, but he was a very eccentric Cossack. At one time he would perform

some feat which the most sagacious would never have dreamed of. At another, folly simply took possession

of him, and he drank and squandered everything away, was in debt to every one in the Setch, and, in addition

to that, stole like a street thief. He carried off a whole Cossack equipment from a strange kuren by night and

pawned it to the tavernkeeper. For this dishonourable act they bound him to a post in the bazaar, and laid a

club beside him, in order that every one who passed should, according to the measure of his strength, deal

him a blow. But there was not one Zaporozhetz out of them all to be found who would raise the club against

"Here is one who will kill you, dog!" he said, springing upon the Lyakh. How they hacked away! their

shoulderplates and breastplates bent under their blows. The hostile Lyakh cut through Schilo's shirt of

mail, reaching the body itself with his blade. The Cossack's shirt was dyed purple: but Schilo heeded it not.

He brandished his brawny hand, heavy indeed was that mighty fist, and brought the pommel of his sword

down unexpectedly upon his foeman's head. The brazen helmet flew into pieces and the Lyakh staggered and

fell; but Schilo went on hacking and cutting gashes in the body of the stunned man. Kill not utterly thine

enemy, Cossack: look back rather! The Cossack did not turn, and one of the dead man's servants plunged a

knife into his neck. Schilo turned and tried to seize him, but he disappeared amid the smoke of the powder.

On all sides rose the roar of matchlocks. Schilo knew that his wound was mortal. He fell with his hand upon

his wound, and said, turning to his comrades, "Farewell, brother gentles, my comrades! may the holy Russian

land stand forever, and may it be eternally honoured!" And as he closed his failing eyes, the Cossack soul

fled from his grim body. Then Zadorozhniy came forward with his men, Vertikhvist issued from the ranks,

"What now, gentles?" said Taras, calling to the hetmans by name: "there is yet powder in the powerflasks?

"There is yet powder in the flasks, father; the Cossack force is not weakened yet: the Cossacks yield not!"

And the Cossacks pressed vigorously on: the foemen's ranks were disordered. The short colonel beat the

assembly, and ordered eight painted standards to be displayed to collect his men, who were scattered over all

the plain. All the Lyakhs hastened to the standards. But they had not yet succeeded in ranging themselves in

order, when the hetman Kukubenko attacked their centre again with his Nezamaikovtzi and fell straight upon

the stout colonel. The colonel could not resist the attack, and, wheeling his horse about, set out at a gallop;

but Kukubenko pursued him for a considerable distance cross the plain and prevented him from joining his

Perceiving this from the kuren on the flank, Stepan Guska set out after him, lasso in hand, bending his head

to his horse's neck. Taking advantage of an opportunity, he cast his lasso about his neck at the first attempt.

The colonel turned purple in the face, grasped the cord with both hands, and tried to break it; but with a

powerful thrust Stepan drove his lance through his body, and there he remained pinned to the earth. But

Guska did not escape his fate. The Cossacks had but time to look round when they beheld Stepan Guska

elevated on four spears. All the poor fellow succeeded in saying was, "May all our enemies perish, and may

The Cossacks glanced around, and there was Metelitza on one side, entertaining the Lyakhs by dealing blows

on the head to one and another; on the other side, the hetman Nevelitchkiy was attacking with his men; and

Zakrutibuga was repulsing and slaying the enemy by the waggons. The third Pisarenko had repulsed a whole

squadron from the more distant waggons; and they were still fighting and killing amongst the other waggons,

"How now, gentles?" cried Taras, stepping forward before them all: "is there still powder in your flasks? Is

"There is still powder in the flasks, father; the Cossack force is still strong: the Cossacks yield not!"

But Bovdug had already fallen from the waggons; a bullet had struck him just below the heart. The old man

collected all his strength, and said, "I sorrow not to part from the world. God grant every man such an end!

May the Russian land be forever glorious!" And Bovdug's spirit flew above, to tell the old men who had gone

on long before that men still knew how to fight on Russian soil, and better still, that they knew how to die for

Balaban, hetman of a kuren, soon after fell to the ground also from a waggon. Three mortal wounds had he

received from a lance, a bullet, and a sword. He had been one of the very best of Cossacks, and had

accomplished a great deal as a commander on naval expeditions; but more glorious than all the rest was his

raid on the shores of Anatolia. They collected many sequins, much valuable Turkish plunder, caftans, and

adornments of every description. But misfortune awaited them on their way back. They came across the

Turkish fleet, and were fired on by the ships. Half the boats were crushed and overturned, drowning more

than one; but the bundles of reeds bound to the sides, Cossack fashion, saved the boats from completely

sinking. Balaban rowed off at full speed, and steered straight in the face of the sun, thus rendering himself

invisible to the Turkish ships. All the following night they spent in baling out the water with pails and their

caps, and in repairing the damaged places. They made sails out of their Cossack trousers, and, sailing off,

escaped from the fastest Turkish vessels. And not only did they arrive unharmed at the Setch, but they

brought a goldembroidered vesture for the archimandrite at the Mezhigorsky Monastery in Kief, and an ikon

frame of pure silver for the church in honour of the Intercession of the Virgin Mary, which is in Zaporozhe.

The guitarplayers celebrated the daring of Balaban and his Cossacks for a long time afterwards. Now he

bowed his head, feeling the pains which precede death, and said quietly, "I am permitted, brother gentles, to

die a fine death. Seven have I hewn in pieces, nine have I pierced with my lance, many have I trampled upon

with my horse's hoofs; and I no longer remember how many my bullets have slain. May our Russian land

Cossacks, Cossacks! abandon not the flower of your army. Already was Kukubenko surrounded, and seven

men only remained of all the Nezamaikovsky kuren, exhausted and with garments already stained with their

blood. Taras himself, perceiving their straits, hastened to their rescue; but the Cossacks arrived too late.

Before the enemies who surrounded him could be driven off, a spear was buried just below Kukubenko's

heart. He sank into the arms of the Cossacks who caught him, and his young blood flowed in a stream, like

precious wine brought from the cellar in a glass vessel by careless servants, who, stumbling at the entrance,

break the rich flask. The wine streams over the ground, and the master, hastening up, tears his hair, having

reserved it, in order that if God should grant him, in his old age, to meet again the comrade of his youth, they

might over it recall together former days, when a man enjoyed himself otherwise and better than now.

Kukubenko cast his eyes around, and said, "I thank God that it has been my lot to die before your eyes,

comrades. May they live better who come after us than we have lived; and may our Russian land, beloved by

Christ, flourish forever!" and his young spirit fled. The angels took it in their arms and bore it to heaven: it

will be well with him there. "Sit down at my right hand, Kukubenko," Christ will say to him: "you never

betrayed your comrades, you never committed a dishonourable act, you never sold a man into misery, you

preserved and defended my church." The death of Kukubenko saddened them all. The Cossack ranks were

terribly thinned. Many brave men were missing, but the Cossacks still stood their ground.

"How now, gentles," cried Taras to the remaining kurens: "is there still powder in your flasks? Are your

"There is still an abundance of powder; our swords are still sharp; the Cossack forces are not wearied, and the

And the Cossacks again strained every nerve, as though they had suffered no loss. Only three kuren hetmans

still remained alive. Red blood flowed in streams everywhere; heaps of their bodies and of those of the enemy

were piled high. Taras looked up to heaven, and there already hovered a flock of vultures. Well, there would

be prey for some one. And there the foe were raising Metelitza on their lances, and the head of the second

Pisarenko was dizzily opening and shutting its eyes; and the mangled body of Okhrim Guska fell upon the

ground. "Now," said Taras, and waved a cloth on high. Ostap understood this signal and springing quickly

from his ambush attacked sharply. The Lyakhs could not withstand this onslaught; and he drove them back,

and chased them straight to the spot where the stakes and fragments of spears were driven into the earth. The

horses began to stumble and fall and the Lyakhs to fly over their heads. At that moment the Korsuntzi, who

had stood till the last by the baggage waggons, perceived that they still had some bullets left, and suddenly

fired a volley from their matchlocks. The Lyakhs became confused, and lost their presence of mind; and the

Cossacks took courage. "The victory is ours!" rang Cossack voices on all sides; the trumpets sounded and the

banner of victory was unfurled. The beaten Lyakhs ran in all directions and hid themselves. "No, the victory

The gates opened, and out dashed a hussar band, the flower of all the cavalry. Every rider was mounted on a

matched brown horse from the Kabardei; and in front rode the handsomest, the most heroic of them all. His

black hair streamed from beneath his brazen helmet; and from his arm floated a rich scarf, embroidered by

the hands of a peerless beauty. Taras sprang back in horror when he saw that it was Andrii. And the latter

meanwhile, enveloped in the dust and heat of battle, eager to deserve the scarf which had been bound as a gift

upon his arm, flew on like a greyhound; the handsomest, most agile, and youngest of all the band. The

experienced huntsman urges on the greyhound, and he springs forward, tossing up the snow, and a score of

times outrunning the hare, in the ardour of his course. And so it was with Andrii. Old Taras paused and

observed how he cleared a path before him, hewing away and dealing blows to the right and the left. Taras

could not restrain himself, but shouted: "Your comrades! your comrades! you devil's brat, would you kill

your own comrades?" But Andrii distinguished not who stood before him, comrades or strangers; he saw

nothing. Curls, long curls, were what he saw; and a bosom like that of a river swan, and a snowy neck and

"Hey there, lads! only draw him to the forest, entice him to the forest for me!" shouted Taras. Instantly thirty

of the smartest Cossacks volunteered to entice him thither; and setting their tall caps firmly spurred their

horses straight at a gap in the hussars. They attacked the front ranks in flank, beat them down, cut them off

from the rear ranks, and slew many of them. Golopuitenko struck Andrii on the back with his sword, and

immediately set out to ride away at the top of his speed. How Andrii flew after him! How his young blood

coursed through all his veins! Driving his sharp spurs into his horse's flanks, he tore along after the Cossacks,

never glancing back, and not perceiving that only twenty men at the most were following him. The Cossacks

fled at full gallop, and directed their course straight for the forest. Andrii overtook them, and was on the point

of catching Golopuitenko, when a powerful hand seized his horse's bridle. Andrii looked; before him stood

Taras! He trembled all over, and turned suddenly pale, like a student who, receiving a blow on the forehead

with a ruler, flushes up like fire, springs in wrath from his seat to chase his comrade, and suddenly encounters

his teacher entering the classroom; in the instant his wrathful impulse calms down and his futile anger

vanishes. In this wise, in an instant, Andrii's wrath was as if it had never existed. And he beheld before him

"Well, what are we going to do now?" said Taras, looking him straight in the eyes. But Andrii could make no

"To think that you should be such a traitor! that you should betray your faith! betray your comrades!

Obedient as a child, he dismounted, and stood before Taras more dead than alive.

"Stand still, do not move! I gave you life, I will also kill you!" said Taras, and, retreating a step backwards,

he brought his gun up to his shoulder. Andrii was white as a sheet; his lips moved gently, and he uttered a

name; but it was not the name of his native land, nor of his mother, nor his brother; it was the name of the

Like the ear of corn cut down by the reapinghook, like the young lamb when it feels the deadly steel in its

The murderer of his son stood still, and gazed long upon the lifeless body. Even in death he was very

handsome; his manly face, so short a time ago filled with power, and with an irresistible charm for every

woman, still had a marvellous beauty; his black brows, like sombre velvet, set off his pale features.

"Is he not a true Cossack?" said Taras; "he is tall of stature, and blackbrowed, his face is that of a noble, and

his hand was strong in battle! He is fallen! fallen without glory, like a vile dog!"

"Father, what have you done? Was it you who killed him?" said Ostap, coming up at this moment.

Ostap gazed intently at the dead man. He was sorry for his brother, and said at once: "Let us give him

honourable burial, father, that the foe may not dishonour his body, nor the birds of prey rend it."

"They will bury him without our help," said Taras; "there will be plenty of mourners and rejoicers for him."

And he reflected for a couple of minutes, whether he should fling him to the wolves for prey, or respect in

him the bravery which every brave man is bound to honour in another, no matter whom? Then he saw

Golopuitenko galloping towards them and crying: "Woe, hetman, the Lyakhs have been reinforced, a fresh

force has come to their rescue!" Golopuitenko had not finished speaking when Vovtuzenko galloped up:

Vovtuzenko had not finished speaking when Pisarenko rushed up without his horse: "Where are you, father?

The Cossacks are seeking for you. Hetman Nevelitchkiy is killed, Zadorozhniy is killed, and

Tcherevitchenko: but the Cossacks stand their ground; they will not die without looking in your eyes; they

"To horse, Ostap!" said Taras, and hastened to find his Cossacks, to look once more upon them, and let them

behold their hetman once more before the hour of death. But before they could emerge from the wood, the

enemy's force had already surrounded it on all sides, and horsemen armed with swords and spears appeared

everywhere between the trees. "Ostap, Ostap! don't yield!" shouted Taras, and grasping his sword he began to

cut down all he encountered on every side. But six suddenly sprang upon Ostap. They did it in an

unpropitious hour: the head of one flew off, another turned to flee, a spear pierced the ribs of a third; a fourth,

more bold, bent his head to escape the bullet, and the bullet striking his horse's breast, the maddened animal

reared, fell back upon the earth, and crushed his rider under him. "Well done, son! Well done, Ostap!" cried

Taras: "I am following you." And he drove off those who attacked him. Taras hewed and fought, dealing

blows at one after another, but still keeping his eye upon Ostap ahead. He saw that eight more were falling

upon his son. "Ostap, Ostap! don't yield!" But they had already overpowered Ostap; one had flung his lasso

about his neck, and they had bound him, and were carrying him away. "Hey, Ostap, Ostap!" shouted Taras,

forcing his way towards him, and cutting men down like cabbages to right and left. "Hey, Ostap, Ostap!" But

something at that moment struck him like a heavy stone. All grew dim and confused before his eyes. In one

moment there flashed confusedly before him heads, spears, smoke, the gleam of fire, treetrunks, and leaves;

and then he sank heavily to the earth like a felled oak, and darkness covered his eyes.

"I have slept a long while!" said Taras, coming to his senses, as if after a heavy drunken sleep, and trying to

distinguish the objects about him. A terrible weakness overpowered his limbs. The walls and corners of a

strange room were dimly visible before him. At length he perceived that Tovkatch was seated beside him,

"Yes," thought Tovkatch, "you might have slept forever." But he said nothing, only shook his finger, and

"But tell me where I am now?" asked Taras, straining his mind, and trying to recollect what had taken place.

"Be silent!" cried his companion sternly. "Why should you want to know? Don't you see that you are all

hacked to pieces? Here I have been galloping with you for two weeks without taking a breath; and you have

been burnt up with fever and talking nonsense. This is the first time you have slept quietly. Be silent if you

But Taras still tried to collect his thoughts and to recall what had passed. "Well, the Lyakhs must have

surrounded and captured me. I had no chance of fighting my way clear from the throng."

"Be silent, I tell you, you devil's brat!" cried Tovkatch angrily, as a nurse, driven beyond her patience, cries

out at her unruly charge. "What good will it do you to know how you got away? It is enough that you did get

away. Some people were found who would not abandon you; let that be enough for you. It is something for

me to have ridden all night with you. You think that you passed for a common Cossack? No, they have

"And Ostap!" cried Taras suddenly, and tried to rise; for all at once he recollected that Ostap had been seized

and bound before his very eyes, and that he was now in the hands of the Lyakhs. Grief overpowered him. He

pulled off and tore in pieces the bandages from his wounds, and threw them far from him; he tried to say

something, but only articulated some incoherent words. Fever and delirium seized upon him afresh, and he

uttered wild and incoherent speeches. Meanwhile his faithful comrade stood beside him, scolding and

showering harsh, reproachful words upon him without stint. Finally, he seized him by the arms and legs,

wrapped him up like a child, arranged all his bandages, rolled him in an oxhide, bound him with bast, and,

fastening him with ropes to his saddle, rode with him again at full speed along the road.

"I'll get you there, even if it be not alive! I will not abandon your body for the Lyakhs to make merry over

you, and cut your body in twain and fling it into the water. Let the eagle tear out your eyes if it must be so;

but let it be our eagle of the steppe and not a Polish eagle, not one which has flown hither from Polish soil. I

Thus spoke his faithful companion. He rode without drawing rein, day and night, and brought Taras still

insensible into the Zaporozhian Setch itself. There he undertook to cure him, with unswerving care, by the aid

of herbs and liniments. He sought out a skilled Jewess, who made Taras drink various potions for a whole

month, and at length he improved. Whether it was owing to the medicine or to his iron constitution gaining

the upper hand, at all events, in six weeks he was on his feet. His wounds had closed, and only the scars of

the sabrecuts showed how deeply injured the old Cossack had been. But he was markedly sad and morose.

Three deep wrinkles engraved themselves upon his brow and never more departed thence. Then he looked

around him. All was new in the Setch; all his old companions were dead. Not one was left of those who had

stood up for the right, for faith and brotherhood. And those who had gone forth with the Koschevoi in pursuit

of the Tatars, they also had long since disappeared. All had perished. One had lost his head in battle; another

had died for lack of food, amid the salt marshes of the Crimea; another had fallen in captivity and been

unable to survive the disgrace. Their former Koschevoi was no longer living, nor any of his old companions,

and the grass was growing over those once alert with power. He felt as one who had given a feast, a great

noisy feast. All the dishes had been smashed in pieces; not a drop of wine was left anywhere; the guests and

servants had all stolen valuable cups and platters; and he, like the master of the house, stood sadly thinking

that it would have been no feast. In vain did they try to cheer Taras and to divert his mind; in vain did the

longbearded, greyhaired guitarplayers come by twos and threes to glorify his Cossack deeds. He gazed

grimly and indifferently at everything, with inappeasable grief printed on his stolid face; and said softly, as he

The Zaporozhtzi assembled for a raid by sea. Two hundred boats were launched on the Dnieper, and Asia

Minor saw those who manned them, with their shaven heads and long scalplocks, devote her thriving shores

to fire and sword; she saw the turbans of her Mahometan inhabitants strewn, like her innumerable flowers,

over the bloodsprinkled fields, and floating along her river banks; she saw many tarry Zaporozhian trousers,

and strong hands with black huntingwhips. The Zaporozhtzi ate up and laid waste all the vineyards. In the

mosques they left heaps of dung. They used rich Persian shawls for sashes, and girded their dirty gaberdines

with them. Long afterwards, short Zaporozhian pipes were found in those regions. They sailed merrily back.

A tengun Turkish ship pursued them and scattered their skiffs, like birds, with a volley from its guns. A

third part of them sank in the depths of the sea; but the rest again assembled, and gained the mouth of the

Dnieper with twelve kegs full of sequins. But all this did not interest Taras. He went off upon the steppe as

though to hunt; but the charge remained in his gun, and, laying down the weapon, he would seat himself

sadly on the shores of the sea. He sat there long with drooping head, repeating continually, "My Ostap, my

Ostap!" Before him spread the gleaming Black Sea; in the distant reeds the seagull screamed. His grey

At last Taras could endure it no longer. "Whatever happens, I must go and find out what he is doing. Is he

alive, or in the grave? I will know, cost what it may!" Within a week he found himself in the city of Ouman,

fully armed, and mounted, with lance, sword, canteen, pot of oatmeal, powder horn, cord to hobble his horse,

and other equipments. He went straight to a dirty, illkept little house, the small windows of which were

almost invisible, blackened as they were with some unknown dirt. The chimney was wrapped in rags; and the

roof, which was full of holes, was covered with sparrows. A heap of all sorts of refuse lay before the very

door. From the window peered the head of a Jewess, in a headdress with discoloured pearls.

"Is your husband at home?" said Bulba, dismounting, and fastening his horse's bridle to an iron hook beside

"He is at home," said the Jewess, and hastened out at once with a measure of corn for the horse, and a stoup

"He is in the other room at prayer," replied the Jewess, bowing and wishing Bulba good health as he raised

"Remain here, feed and water my horse, whilst I go speak with him alone. I have business with him."

This Jew was the wellknown Yankel. He was there as revenuefarmer and tavernkeeper. He had gradually

got nearly all the neighbouring noblemen and gentlemen into his hands, had slowly sucked away most of

their money, and had strongly impressed his presence on that locality. For a distance of three miles in all

directions, not a single farm remained in a proper state. All were falling in ruins; all had been drunk away,

and poverty and rags alone remained. The whole neighbourhood was depopulated, as if after a fire or an

epidemic; and if Yankel had lived there ten years, he would probably have depopulated the Waiwode's whole

Taras entered the room. The Jew was praying, enveloped in his dirty shroud, and was turning to spit for the

last time, according to the forms of his creed, when his eye suddenly lighted on Taras standing behind him.

The first thing that crossed Yankel's mind was the two thousand ducats offered for his visitor's head; but he

was ashamed of his avarice, and tried to stifle within him the eternal thought of gold, which twines, like a

"Listen, Yankel," said Taras to the Jew, who began to bow low before him, and as he spoke he shut the door

so that they might not be seen, "I saved your life: the Zaporozhtzi would have torn you to pieces like a dog.

"To Warsaw? Why to Warsaw?" said the Jew, and his brows and shoulders rose in amazement.

"Ask me nothing. Take me to Warsaw. I must see him once more at any cost, and say one word to him."

"I know, I know all. They offer two thousand ducats for my head. They know its value, fools! I will give you

five thousand. Here are two thousand on the spot," and Bulba poured out two thousand ducats from a leather

The Jew instantly seized a towel and concealed the ducats under it. "Ai, glorious money! ai, good money!" he

said, twirling one gold piece in his hand and testing it with his teeth. "I don't believe the man from whom my

lord took these fine gold pieces remained in the world an hour longer; he went straight to the river and

"I should not have asked you, I might possibly have found my own way to Warsaw; but some one might

recognise me, and then the cursed Lyakhs would capture me, for I am not clever at inventions; whilst that is

just what you Jews are created for. You would deceive the very devil. You know every trick: that is why I

have come to you; and, besides, I could do nothing of myself in Warsaw. Harness the horse to your waggon

"And my lord thinks that I can take the nag at once, and harness him, and say 'Get up, Dapple!' My lord

"Ai, ai! and my lord thinks he can be concealed in an empty cask? Does not my lord know that every man

"Let them think it is brandy?" said the Jew, and grasped his earlocks with both hands, and then raised them

"And does not my lord know that God has made brandy expressly for every one to sip? They are all gluttons

and fond of dainties there: a nobleman will run five versts after a cask; he will make a hole in it, and as soon

as he sees that nothing runs out, he will say, 'A Jew does not carry empty casks; there is certainly something

wrong. Seize the Jew, bind the Jew, take away all the Jew's money, put the Jew in prison!' Then all the vile

people will fall upon the Jew, for every one takes a Jew for a dog; and they think he is not a man, but only a

"I cannot, my lord, by heaven, I cannot: all over Poland the people are as hungry as dogs now. They will steal

"Listen, listen, my lord!" said the Jew, turning up the ends of his sleeves, and approaching him with extended

arms. "This is what we will do. They are building fortresses and castles everywhere: French engineers have

come from Germany, and so a great deal of brick and stone is being carried over the roads. Let my lord lie

down in the bottom of the waggon, and over him I will pile bricks. My lord is strong and well, apparently, so

he will not mind if it is a little heavy; and I will make a hole in the bottom of the waggon in order to feed my

In an hour, a waggonload of bricks left Ouman, drawn by two sorry nags. On one of them sat tall Yankel,

his long, curling earlocks flowing from beneath his Jewish cap, as he bounced about on the horse, like a

At the time when these things took place, there were as yet on the frontiers neither customhouse officials

nor guardsthose bugbears of enterprising peopleso that any one could bring across anything he fancied.

If any one made a search or inspection, he did it chiefly for his own pleasure, especially if there happened to

be in the waggon objects attractive to his eye, and if his own hand possessed a certain weight and power. But

the bricks found no admirers, and they entered the principal gate unmolested. Bulba, in his narrow cage,

could only hear the noise, the shouts of the driver, and nothing more. Yankel, bouncing up and down on his

dustcovered nag, turned, after making several detours, into a dark, narrow street bearing the names of the

Muddy and also of the Jews' street, because Jews from nearly every part of Warsaw were to be found here.

This street greatly resembled a backyard turned wrong side out. The sun never seemed to shine into it. The

black wooden houses, with numerous poles projecting from the windows, still further increased the darkness.

Rarely did a brick wall gleam red among them; for these too, in many places, had turned quite black. Here

and there, high up, a bit of stuccoed wall illumined by the sun glistened with intolerable whiteness. Pipes,

rags, shells, broken and discarded tubs: every one flung whatever was useless to him into the street, thus

affording the passerby an opportunity of exercising all his five senses with the rubbish. A man on horseback

could almost touch with his hand the poles thrown across the street from one house to another, upon which

hung Jewish stockings, short trousers, and smoked geese. Sometimes a pretty little Hebrew face, adorned

with discoloured pearls, peeped out of an old window. A group of little Jews, with torn and dirty garments

and curly hair, screamed and rolled about in the dirt. A redhaired Jew, with freckles all over his face which

made him look like a sparrow's egg, gazed from a window. He addressed Yankel at once in his gibberish, and

Yankel at once drove into a courtyard. Another Jew came along, halted, and entered into conversation.

When Bulba finally emerged from beneath the bricks, he beheld three Jews talking with great warmth.

Yankel turned to him and said that everything possible would be done; that his Ostap was in the city jail, and

that although it would be difficult to persuade the jailer, yet he hoped to arrange a meeting.

The Jews again began to talk among themselves in their incomprehensible tongue. Taras looked hard at each

of them. Something seemed to have moved him deeply; over his rough and stolid countenance a flame of

hope spread, of hope such as sometimes visits a man in the last depths of his despair; his aged heart began to

"Listen, Jews!" said he, and there was a triumphant ring in his words. "You can do anything in the world,

even extract things from the bottom of the sea; and it has long been a proverb, that a Jew will steal from

himself if he takes a fancy to steal. Set my Ostap at liberty! give him a chance to escape from their diabolical

hands. I promised this man five thousand ducats; I will add another five thousand: all that I have, rich cups,

buried gold, houses, all, even to my last garment, I will part with; and I will enter into a contract with you for

"We might try," said the third, glancing timidly at the other two. "God may favour us."

All three Jews discussed the matter in German. Bulba, in spite of his straining ears, could make nothing of it;

"Listen, my lord!" said Yankel. "We must consult with a man such as there never was before in the world . . .

ugh, ugh! as wise as Solomon; and if he will do nothing, then no one in the world can. Sit here: this is the

Taras locked the door, and looked out from the little window upon the dirty Jewish street. The three Jews

halted in the middle of the street and began to talk with a good deal of warmth: a fourth soon joined them,

and finally a fifth. Again he heard repeated, "Mardokhai, Mardokhai!" The Jews glanced incessantly towards

one side of the street; at length from a dirty house near the end of it emerged a foot in a Jewish shoe and the

skirts of a caftan. "Ah! Mardokhai, Mardokhai!" shouted the Jews in one voice. A thin Jew somewhat shorter

than Yankel, but even more wrinkled, and with a huge upper lip, approached the impatient group; and all the

Jews made haste to talk to him, interrupting each other. During the recital, Mardokhai glanced several times

towards the little window, and Taras divined that the conversation concerned him.

Mardokhai waved his hands, listened, interrupted, spat frequently to one side, and, pulling up the skirts of his

caftan, thrust his hand into his pocket and drew out some jingling thing, showing very dirty trousers in the

operation. Finally all the Jews set up such a shouting that the Jew who was standing guard was forced to

make a signal for silence, and Taras began to fear for his safety; but when he remembered that Jews can only

consult in the street, and that the demon himself cannot understand their language, he regained his

Two minutes later the Jews all entered the room together. Mardokhai approached Taras, tapped him on the

shoulder, and said, "When we set to work it will be all right." Taras looked at this Solomon whom the world

had never known and conceived some hope: indeed, his face might well inspire confidence. His upper lip was

simply an object of horror; its thickness being doubtless increased by adventitious circumstances. This

Solomon's beard consisted only of about fifteen hairs, and they were on the left side. Solomon's face bore so

many scars of battle, received for his daring, that he had doubtless lost count of them long before, and had

Mardokhai departed, accompanied by his comrades, who were filled with admiration at his wisdom. Bulba

remained alone. He was in a strange, unaccustomed situation for the first time in his life; he felt uneasy. His

mind was in a state of fever. He was no longer unbending, immovable, strong as an oak, as he had formerly

been: but felt timid and weak. He trembled at every sound, at every fresh Jewish face which showed itself at

the end of the street. In this condition he passed the whole day. He neither ate nor drank, and his eye never for

a moment left the small window looking on the street. Finally, late at night, Mardokhai and Yankel made

"What news? have you been successful?" he asked with the impatience of a wild horse.

But before the Jews had recovered breath to answer, Taras perceived that Mardokhai no longer had the locks,

which had formerly fallen in greasy curls from under his felt cap. It was evident that he wished to say

something, but he uttered only nonsense which Taras could make nothing of. Yankel himself put his hand

"Oh, dearest lord!" said Yankel: "it is quite impossible now! by heaven, impossible! Such vile people that

they deserve to be spit upon! Mardokhai here says the same. Mardokhai has done what no man in the world

ever did, but God did not will that it should be so. Three thousand soldiers are in garrison here, and

Taras looked the Jew straight in the face, but no longer with impatience or anger.

"But if my lord wishes to see his son, then it must be early tomorrow morning, before the sun has risen. The

sentinels have consented, and one gaoler has promised. But may he have no happiness in the world, woe is

me! What greedy people! There are none such among us: I gave fifty ducats to each sentinel and to the

"Good. Take me to him!" exclaimed Taras, with decision, and with all his firmness of mind restored. He

agreed to Yankel's proposition that he should disguise himself as a foreign count, just arrived from Germany,

for which purpose the prudent Jew had already provided a costume. It was already night. The master of the

house, the redhaired Jew with freckles, pulled out a mattress covered with some kind of rug, and spread it

on a bench for Bulba. Yankel lay upon the floor on a similar mattress. The redhaired Jew drank a small cup

of brandy, took off his caftan, and betook himselflooking, in his shoes and stockings, very like a lean

chickenwith his wife, to something resembling a cupboard. Two little Jews lay down on the floor beside

the cupboard, like a couple of dogs. But Taras did not sleep; he sat motionless, drumming on the table with

his fingers. He kept his pipe in his mouth, and puffed out smoke, which made the Jew sneeze in his sleep and

pull his coverlet over his nose. Scarcely was the sky touched with the first faint gleams of dawn than he

pushed Yankel with his foot, saying: "Rise, Jew, and give me your count's dress!"

In a moment he was dressed. He blackened his moustache and eyebrows, put on his head a small dark cap;

even the Cossacks who knew him best would not have recognised him. Apparently he was not more than

thirtyfive. A healthy colour glowed on his cheeks, and his scars lent him an air of command. The

The streets were still asleep. Not a single one of the market folk as yet showed himself in the city, with his

basket on his arm. Yankel and Bulba made their way to a building which presented the appearance of a

crouching stork. It was large, low, wide, and black; and on one side a long slender tower like a stork's neck

projected above the roof. This building served for a variety of purposes; it was a barrack, a jail, and the

criminal court. The visitors entered the gate and found themselves in a vast room, or covered courtyard.

About a thousand men were sleeping here. Straight before them was a small door, in front of which sat two

sentries playing at some game which consisted in one striking the palm of the other's hand with two fingers.

They paid little heed to the new arrivals, and only turned their heads when Yankel said, "It is we, sirs; do you

"Go in!" said one of them, opening the door with one hand, and holding out the other to his comrade to

They entered a low and dark corridor, which led them to a similar room with small windows overhead. "Who

goes there?" shouted several voices, and Taras beheld a number of warriors in full armour. "We have been

"It is we!" cried Yankel; "we, by heavens, noble sirs!" But no one would listen to him. Fortunately, at that

moment a fat man came up, who appeared to be a commanding officer, for he swore louder than all the

"Admit them, a hundred fiends, and mother of fiends! Admit no one else. And no one is to draw his sword,

The conclusion of this order the visitors did not hear. "It is we, it is I, it is your friends!" Yankel said to every

"Well, can it be managed now?" he inquired of one of the guards, when they at length reached the end of the

"It is possible, but I don't know whether you will be able to gain admission to the prison itself. Yana is not

At the arched entrance of the vaults stood a heyduke, with a moustache trimmed in three layers: the upper

layer was trained backwards, the second straight forward, and the third downwards, which made him greatly

The Jew shrank into nothing and approached him almost sideways: "Your high excellency! High and

"Hm, but I am merely a heyduke," said the merryeyed man with the tripletiered moustache.

"And I thought it was the Waiwode himself, by heavens! Ai, ai, ai!" Thereupon the Jew twisted his head

about and spread out his fingers. "Ai, what a fine figure! Another finger'sbreadth and he would be a colonel.

"What a warlike people!" continued the Jew. "Ah, woe is me, what a fine race! Golden cords and trappings

that shine like the sun; and the maidens, wherever they see warriorsAi, ai!" Again the Jew wagged his

The heyduke twirled his upper moustache and uttered a sound somewhat resembling the neighing of a horse.

"I pray my lord to do us a service!" exclaimed the Jew: "this prince has come hither from a foreign land, and

wants to get a look at the Cossacks. He never, in all his life, has seen what sort of people the Cossacks are."

The advent of foreign counts and barons was common enough in Poland: they were often drawn thither by

curiosity to view this halfAsiatic corner of Europe. They regarded Moscow and the Ukraine as situated in

"I do not know, your excellency," said he, "why you should desire to see them. They are dogs, not men; and

"You lie, you son of Satan!" exclaimed Bulba. "You are a dog yourself! How dare you say that our faith is

"Oho!" said the heyduke. "I can guess who you are, my friend; you are one of the breed of those under my

Taras realised his indiscretion, but vexation and obstinacy hindered him from devising a means of remedying

"Most noble lord, how is it possible that the count can be a Cossack? If he were a Cossack, where could have

"Your royal highness, silence, silence, for heaven's sake!" cried Yankel. "Silence! we will pay you for it in a

"Oho! two ducats! I can't do anything with two ducats. I give my barber two ducats for only shaving the half

of my beard. Give me a hundred ducats, Jew." Here the heyduke twirled his upper moustache. "If you don't, I

"Why so much?" said the Jew, sadly, turning pale, and undoing his leather purse; but it was lucky that he had

"My lord, my lord, let us depart quickly! Look at the evilminded fellow!" said Yankel to Taras, perceiving

that the heyduke was turning the money over in his hand as though regretting that he had not demanded more.

"What do you mean, you devil of a heyduke?" said Bulba. "What do you mean by taking our money and not

letting us see the Cossacks? No, you must let us see them. Since you have taken the money, you have no right

"Go, go to the devil! If you won't, I'll give the alarm this moment. Take yourselves off quickly, I say!"

"My lord, my lord, let us go! in God's name let us go! Curse him! May he dream such things that he will have

Bulba turned slowly, with drooping head, and retraced his steps, followed by the complaints of Yankel who

"Why be angry? Let the dog curse. That race cannot help cursing. Oh, woe is me, what luck God sends to

some people! A hundred ducats merely for driving us off! And our brother: they have torn off his earlocks,

and they made wounds on his face that you cannot bear to look at, and yet no one will give him a hundred

But this failure made a much deeper impression on Bulba, expressed by a devouring flame in his eyes.

"Let us go," he said, suddenly, as if arousing himself; "let us go to the square. I want to see how they will

"Let us go," said Bulba, obstinately; and the Jew followed him, sighing like a nurse.

The square on which the execution was to take place was not hard to find: for the people were thronging

thither from all quarters. In that savage age such a thing constituted one of the most noteworthy spectacles,

not only for the common people, but among the higher classes. A number of the most pious old men, a throng

of young girls, and the most cowardly women, who dreamed the whole night afterwards of their bloody

corpses, and shrieked as loudly in their sleep as a drunken hussar, missed, nevertheless, no opportunity of

gratifying their curiosity. "Ah, what tortures!" many of them would cry, hysterically, covering their eyes and

turning away; but they stood their ground for a good while, all the same. Many a one, with gaping mouth and

outstretched hands, would have liked to jump upon other folk's heads, to get a better view. Above the crowd

towered a bulky butcher, admiring the whole process with the air of a connoisseur, and exchanging brief

remarks with a gunsmith, whom he addressed as "Gossip," because he got drunk in the same alehouse with

him on holidays. Some entered into warm discussions, others even laid wagers. But the majority were of the

species who, all the world over, look on at the world and at everything that goes on in it and merely scratch

their noses. In the front ranks, close to the bearded civicguards, stood a young noble, in warlike array, who

had certainly put his whole wardrobe on his back, leaving only his torn shirt and old shoes at his quarters.

Two chains, one above the other, hung around his neck. He stood beside his mistress, Usisya, and glanced

about incessantly to see that no one soiled her silk gown. He explained everything to her so perfectly that no

one could have added a word. "All these people whom you see, my dear Usisya," he said, "have come to see

the criminals executed; and that man, my love, yonder, holding the axe and other instruments in his hands, is

the executioner, who will despatch them. When he begins to break them on the wheel, and torture them in

other ways, the criminals will still be alive; but when he cuts off their heads, then, my love, they will die at

once. Before that, they will cry and move; but as soon as their heads are cut off, it will be impossible for them

to cry, or to eat or drink, because, my dear, they will no longer have any head." Usisya listened to all this with

The upper stories of the houses were filled with people. From the windows in the roof peered strange faces

with beards and something resembling caps. Upon the balconies, beneath shady awnings, sat the aristocracy.

The hands of smiling young ladies, brilliant as white sugar, rested on the railings. Portly nobles looked on

with dignity. Servants in rich garb, with flowing sleeves, handed round various refreshments. Sometimes a

blackeyed young rogue would take her cake or fruit and fling it among the crowd with her own noble little

hand. The crowd of hungry gentles held up their caps to receive it; and some tall noble, whose head rose amid

the throng, with his faded red jacket and discoloured gold braid, and who was the first to catch it with the aid

of his long arms, would kiss his booty, press it to his heart, and finally put it in his mouth. The hawk,

suspended beneath the balcony in a golden cage, was also a spectator; with beak inclined to one side, and

with one foot raised, he, too, watched the people attentively. But suddenly a murmur ran through the crowd,

They were bareheaded, with their long locks floating in the air. Their beards had grown, and their once

handsome garments were worn out, and hung about them in tatters. They walked neither timidly nor surlily,

but with a certain pride, neither looking at nor bowing to the people. At the head of all came Ostap.

What were old Taras's feelings when thus he beheld his Ostap? What filled his heart then? He gazed at him

from amid the crowd, and lost not a single movement of his. They reached the place of execution. Ostap

stopped. He was to be the first to drink the bitter cup. He glanced at his comrades, raised his hand, and said in

a loud voice: "God grant that none of the heretics who stand here may hear, the unclean dogs, how Christians

suffer! Let none of us utter a single word." After this he ascended the scaffold.

The executioner tore off his old rags; they fastened his hands and feet in stocks prepared expressly, and

We will not pain the reader with a picture of the hellish tortures which would make his hair rise upright on his

head. They were the outcome of that coarse, wild age, when men still led a life of warfare which hardened

their souls until no sense of humanity was left in them. In vain did some, not many, in that age make a stand

against such terrible measures. In vain did the king and many nobles, enlightened in mind and spirit,

demonstrate that such severity of punishment could but fan the flame of vengeance in the Cossack nation. But

the power of the king, and the opinion of the wise, was as nothing before the savage will of the magnates of

the kingdom, who, by their thoughtlessness and unconquerable lack of all farsighted policy, their childish

selflove and miserable pride, converted the Diet into the mockery of a government. Ostap endured the

torture like a giant. Not a cry, not a groan, was heard. Even when they began to break the bones in his hands

and feet, when, amid the deathlike stillness of the crowd, the horrible cracking was audible to the most

distant spectators; when even his tormentors turned aside their eyes, nothing like a groan escaped his lips, nor

did his face quiver. Taras stood in the crowd with bowed head; and, raising his eyes proudly at that moment,

But when they took him to the last deadly tortures, it seemed as though his strength were failing. He cast his

O God! all strangers, all unknown faces! If only some of his relatives had been present at his death! He would

not have cared to hear the sobs and anguish of his poor, weak mother, nor the unreasoning cries of a wife,

tearing her hair and beating her white breast; but he would have liked to see a strong man who might refresh

him with a word of wisdom, and cheer his end. And his strength failed him, and he cried in the weakness of

"I hear!" rang through the universal silence, and those thousands of people shuddered in concert. A

detachment of cavalry hastened to search through the throng of people. Yankel turned pale as death, and

when the horsemen had got within a short distance of him, turned round in terror to look for Taras; but Taras

They soon found traces of Taras. An army of a hundred and twenty thousand Cossacks appeared on the

frontier of the Ukraine. This was no small detachment sallying forth for plunder or in pursuit of the Tatars.

No: the whole nation had risen, for the measure of the people's patience was overfull; they had risen to

avenge the disregard of their rights, the dishonourable humiliation of themselves, the insults to the faith of

their fathers and their sacred customs, the outrages upon their church, the excesses of the foreign nobles, the

disgraceful domination of the Jews on Christian soil, and all that had aroused and deepened the stern hatred

of the Cossacks for a long time past. Hetman Ostranitza, young, but firm in mind, led the vast Cossack force.

Beside him was seen his old and experienced friend and counsellor, Gunya. Eight leaders led bands of twelve

thousand men each. Two osauls and a bunchuzhniy assisted the hetman. A cornetgeneral carried the chief

standard, whilst many other banners and standards floated in the air; and the comrades of the staff bore the

golden staff of the hetman, the symbol of his office. There were also many other officials belonging to the

different bands, the baggage train and the main force with detachments of infantry and cavalry. There were

almost as many free Cossacks and volunteers as there were registered Cossacks. The Cossacks had risen

everywhere. They came from Tchigirin, from Pereyaslaf, from Baturin, from Glukhof, from the regions of the

lower Dnieper, and from all its upper shores and islands. An uninterrupted stream of horses and herds of

cattle stretched across the plain. And among all these Cossacks, among all these bands, one was the choicest;

and that was the band led by Taras Bulba. All contributed to give him an influence over the others: his

advanced years, his experience and skill in directing an army, and his bitter hatred of the foe. His unsparing

fierceness and cruelty seemed exaggerated even to the Cossacks. His grey head dreamed of naught save fire

and sword, and his utterances at the councils of war breathed only annihilation.

It is useless to describe all the battles in which the Cossacks distinguished themselves, or the gradual courses

of the campaign. All this is set down in the chronicles. It is well known what an army raised on Russian soil,

for the orthodox faith, is like. There is no power stronger than faith. It is threatening and invincible like a

rock, and rising amidst the stormy, everchanging sea. From the very bottom of the sea it rears to heaven its

jagged sides of firm, impenetrable stone. It is visible from everywhere, and looks the waves straight in the

face as they roll past. And woe to the ship which is dashed against it! Its frame flies into splinters, everything

in it is split and crushed, and the startled air reechoes the piteous cries of the drowning.

In the pages of the chronicles there is a minute description of how the Polish garrisons fled from the freed

cities; how the unscrupulous Jewish tavernkeepers were hung; how powerless was the royal hetman, Nikolai

Pototzky, with his numerous army, against this invincible force; how, routed and pursued, he lost the best of

his troops by drowning in a small stream; how the fierce Cossack regiments besieged him in the little town of

Polon; and how, reduced to extremities, he promised, under oath, on the part of the king and the government,

its full satisfaction to all, and the restoration of all their rights and privileges. But the Cossacks were not men

to give way for this. They already knew well what a Polish oath was worth. And Pototzky would never more

have pranced on his sixthousand ducat horse from the Kabardei, attracting the glances of distinguished

ladies and the envy of the nobility; he would never more have made a figure in the Diet, by giving costly

feasts to the senatorsif the Russian priests who were in the little town had not saved him. When all the

popes, in their brilliant gold vestments, went out to meet the Cossacks, bearing the holy pictures and the

cross, with the bishop himself at their head, crosier in hand and mitre on his head, the Cossacks all bowed

their heads and took off their caps. To no one lower than the king himself would they have shown respect at

such an hour; but their daring fell before the Church of Christ, and they honoured their priesthood. The

hetman and leaders agreed to release Pototzky, after having extracted from him a solemn oath to leave all the

Christian churches unmolested, to forswear the ancient enmity, and to do no harm to the Cossack forces. One

leader alone would not consent to such a peace. It was Taras. He tore a handful of hair from his head, and

"Hetman and leaders! Commit no such womanish deed. Trust not the Lyakhs; slay the dogs!"

When the secretary presented the agreement, and the hetman put his hand to it, Taras drew a genuine

Damascene blade, a costly Turkish sabre of the finest steel, broke it in twain like a reed, and threw the two

pieces far away on each side, saying, "Farewell! As the two pieces of this sword will never reunite and form

one sword again, so we, comrades, shall nevermore behold each other in this world. Remember my parting

words." As he spoke his voice grew stronger, rose higher, and acquired a hitherto unknown power; and his

prophetic utterances troubled them all. "Before the death hour you will remember me! Do you think that you

have purchased peace and quiet? do you think that you will make a great show? You will make a great show,

but after another fashion. They will flay the skin from your head, hetman, they will stuff it with bran, and

long will it be exhibited at fairs. Neither will you retain your heads, gentles. You will be thrown into damp

dungeons, walled about with stone, if they do not boil you alive in cauldrons like sheep. And you, men," he

continued, turning to his followers, "which of you wants to die his true death? not through sorrows and the

alehouse; but an honourable Cossack death, all in one bed, like bride and groom? But, perhaps, you would

like to return home, and turn infidels, and carry Polish priests on your backs?"

"We will follow you, noble leader, we will follow you!" shouted all his band, and many others joined them.

"If it is to be so, then follow me," said Taras, pulling his cap farther over his brows. Looking menacingly at

the others, he went to his horse, and cried to his men, "Let no one reproach us with any insulting speeches.

Now, hey there, men! we'll call on the Catholics." And then he struck his horse, and there followed him a

camp of a hundred waggons, and with them many Cossack cavalry and infantry; and, turning, he threatened

with a glance all who remained behind, and wrath was in his eye. The band departed in full view of all the

The hetman and leaders were uneasy; all became thoughtful, and remained silent, as though oppressed by

some heavy foreboding. Not in vain had Taras prophesied: all came to pass as he had foretold. A little later,

after the treacherous attack at Kaneva, the hetman's head was mounted on a stake, together with those of

And what of Taras? Taras made raids all over Poland with his band, burned eighteen towns and nearly forty

churches, and reached Cracow. He killed many nobles, and plundered some of the richest and finest castles.

The Cossacks emptied on the ground the centuryold mead and wine, carefully hoarded up in lordly cellars;

they cut and burned the rich garments and equipments which they found in the wardrobes. "Spare nothing,"

was the order of Taras. The Cossacks spared not the blackbrowed gentlewomen, the brilliant,

whitebosomed maidens: these could not save themselves even at the altar, for Taras burned them with the

altar itself. Snowy hands were raised to heaven from amid fiery flames, with piteous shrieks which would

have moved the damp earth itself to pity and caused the steppegrass to bend with compassion at their fate.

But the cruel Cossacks paid no heed; and, raising the children in the streets upon the points of their lances,

"This is a mass for the soul of Ostap, you heathen Lyakhs," was all that Taras said. And such masses for

Ostap he had sung in every village, until the Polish Government perceived that Taras's raids were more than

ordinary expeditions for plunder; and Pototzky was given five regiments, and ordered to capture him without

Six days did the Cossacks retreat along the byroads before their pursuers; their horses were almost equal to

this unchecked flight, and nearly saved them. But this time Pototzky was also equal to the task intrusted to

him; unweariedly he followed them, and overtook them on the bank of the Dniester, where Taras had taken

On the very brink of the Dniester it stood, with its shattered ramparts and the ruined remnants of its walls.

The summit of the cliff was strewn with ragged stones and broken bricks, ready at any moment to detach

themselves. The royal hetman, Pototzky, surrounded it on the two sides which faced the plain. Four days did

the Cossacks fight, tearing down bricks and stones for missiles. But their stones and their strength were at

length exhausted, and Taras resolved to cut his way through the beleaguering forces. And the Cossacks would

have cut their way through, and their swift steeds might again have served them faithfully, had not Taras

halted suddenly in the very midst of their flight, and shouted, "Halt! my pipe has dropped with its tobacco: I

won't let those heathen Lyakhs have my pipe!" And the old hetman stooped down, and felt in the grass for his

pipe full of tobacco, his inseparable companion on all his expeditions by sea and land and at home.

But in the meantime a band of Lyakhs suddenly rushed up, and seized him by the shoulders. He struggled

with all might; but he could not scatter on the earth, as he had been wont to do, the heydukes who had seized

him. "Oh, old age, old age!" he exclaimed: and the stout old Cossack wept. But his age was not to blame:

"The raven is caught!" yelled the Lyakhs. "We must think how we can show him the most honour, the dog!"

They decided, with the permission of the hetman, to burn him alive in the sight of all. There stood hard by a

leafless tree, the summit of which had been struck by lightning. They fastened him with iron chains and nails

driven through his hands high up on the trunk of the tree, so that he might be seen from all sides; and began at

once to place fagots at its foot. But Taras did not look at the wood, nor did he think of the fire with which

they were preparing to roast him: he gazed anxiously in the direction whence his Cossacks were firing. From

his high point of observation he could see everything as in the palm of his hand.

"Take possession, men," he shouted, "of the hillock behind the wood: they cannot climb it!" But the wind did

not carry his words to them. "They are lost, lost!" he said in despair, and glanced down to where the water of

the Dniester glittered. Joy gleamed in his eyes. He saw the sterns of four boats peeping out from behind some

bushes; exerted all the power of his lungs, and shouted in a ringing tone, "To the bank, to the bank, men!

descend the path to the left, under the cliff. There are boats on the bank; take all, that they may not catch

This time the breeze blew from the other side, and his words were audible to the Cossacks. But for this

counsel he received a blow on the head with the back of an axe, which made everything dance before his

The Cossacks descended the cliff path at full speed, but their pursuers were at their heels. They looked: the

path wound and twisted, and made many detours to one side. "Comrades, we are trapped!" said they. All

halted for an instant, raised their whips, whistled, and their Tatar horses rose from the ground, clove the air

like serpents, flew over the precipice, and plunged straight into the Dniester. Two only did not alight in the

river, but thundered down from the height upon the stones, and perished there with their horses without

uttering a cry. But the Cossacks had already swum shoreward from their horses, and unfastened the boats,

when the Lyakhs halted on the brink of the precipice, astounded by this wonderful feat, and thinking, "Shall

One young colonel, a lively, hotblooded soldier, own brother to the beautiful Pole who had seduced poor

Andrii, did not reflect long, but leaped with his horse after the Cossacks. He made three turns in the air with

his steed, and fell heavily on the rocks. The sharp stones tore him in pieces; and his brains, mingled with

When Taras Bulba recovered from the blow, and glanced towards the Dniester, the Cossacks were already in

the skiffs and rowing away. Balls were showered upon them from above but did not reach them. And the old

"Farewell, comrades!" he shouted to them from above; "remember me, and come hither again next spring and

make merry in the same fashion! What! cursed Lyakhs, have ye caught me? Think ye there is anything in the

world that a Cossack fears? Wait; the time will come when ye shall learn what the orthodox Russian faith is!

Already the people scent it far and near. A czar shall arise from Russian soil, and there shall not be a power in

the world which shall not submit to him!" But fire had already risen from the fagots; it lapped his feet, and

the flame spread to the tree. . . . But can any fire, flames, or power be found on earth which are capable of

Broad is the river Dniester, and in it are many deep pools, dense reedbeds, clear shallows and little bays; its

watery mirror gleams, filled with the melodious plaint of the swan, the proud wild goose glides swiftly over

it; and snipe, redthroated ruffs, and other birds are to be found among the reeds and along the banks. The

Cossacks rowed swiftly on in the narrow doubleruddered boatsrowed stoutly, carefully shunning the sand

bars, and cleaving the ranks of the birds, which took wingrowed, and talked of their hetman.

Thoma Grigroovitch had one very strange eccentricity: to the day of his death he never liked to tell the same

thing twice. There were times when, if you asked him to relate a thing afresh, he would interpolate new

matter, or alter it so that it was impossible to recognise it. Once upon a time, one of those gentlemen who,

like the usurers at our yearly fairs, clutch and beg and steal every sort of frippery, and issue mean little

volumes, no thicker than an A B C book, every month, or even every week, wormed this same story out of

Thoma Grigorovitch, and the latter completely forgot about it. But that same young gentleman, in the

peagreen caftan, came from Poltava, bringing with him a little book, and, opening it in the middle, showed

it to us. Thoma Grigorovitch was on the point of setting his spectacles astride of his nose, but recollected that

he had forgotten to wind thread about them and stick them together with wax, so he passed it over to me. As I

understand nothing about reading and writing, and do not wear spectacles, I undertook to read it. I had not

"Why, what more would you have? Here it is printed: 'Related by such and such a sacristan.'"

"Spit on the head of the man who printed that! he lies, the dog of a Moscow pedlar! Did I say that? ''Twas just

the same as though one hadn't his wits about him!' Listen. I'll tell the tale to you on the spot."

My grandfather (the kingdom of heaven be his! may he eat only wheaten rolls and poppyseed cakes with

honey in the other world!) could tell a story wonderfully well. When he used to begin a tale you could not stir

from the spot all day, but kept on listening. He was not like the storyteller of the present day, when he

begins to lie, with a tongue as though he had had nothing to eat for three days, so that you snatch your cap

and flee from the house. I remember my old mother was alive then, and in the long winter evenings when the

frost was crackling out of doors, and had sealed up hermetically the narrow panes of our cottage, she used to

sit at her wheel, drawing out a long thread in her hand, rocking the cradle with her foot, and humming a song,

The lamp, quivering and flaring up as though in fear of something, lighted up our cottage; the spindle

hummed; and all of us children, collected in a cluster, listened to grandfather, who had not crawled off the

stove for more than five years, owing to his great age. But the wondrous tales of the incursions of the

Zaporozhian Cossacks and the Poles, the bold deeds of Podkova, of PoltarKozhukh, and Sagaidatchnii, did

not interest us so much as the stories about some deed of old which always sent a shiver through our frames

and made our hair rise upright on our heads. Sometimes such terror took possession of us in consequence of

them, that, from that evening forward, Heaven knows how wonderful everything seemed to us. If one

chanced to go out of the cottage after nightfall for anything, one fancied that a visitor from the other world

had lain down to sleep in one's bed; and I have often taken my own smock, at a distance, as it lay at the head

of the bed, for the Evil One rolled up into a ball! But the chief thing about grandfather's stories was, that he

I will now tell you one of his wonderful tales. I know that there are a great many wise people who copy in the

courts, and can even read civil documents, but who, if you were to put into their hand a simple prayerbook,

could not make out the first letter in it, and would show all their teeth in derision. These people laugh at

everything you tell them. Along comes one of themand doesn't believe in witches! Yes, glory to God that I

have lived so long in the world! I have seen heretics to whom it would be easier to lie in confession than it

would be to our brothers and equals to take snuff, and these folk would deny the existence of witches! But let

them just dream about something, and they won't even tell what it was! There, it is no use talking about them!

No one could have recognised the village of ours a little over a hundred years ago; it was a hamlet, the

poorest kind of a hamlet. Half a score of miserable farmhouses, unplastered and badly thatched, were

scattered here and there about the fields. There was not a yard or a decent shed to shelter animals or waggons.

That was the way the wealthy lived: and if you had looked for our brothers, the poorwhy, a hole in the

groundthat was a cabin for you! Only by the smoke could you tell that a Godcreated man lived there. You

ask why they lived so? It was not entirely through poverty: almost every one led a raiding Cossack life, and

gathered not a little plunder in foreign lands; it was rather because it was little use building up a good wooden

house. Many folk were engaged in raids all over the countryCrimeans, Poles, Lithuanians! It was quite

possible that their own countrymen might make a descent and plunder everything. Anything was possible.

In this hamlet a man, or rather a devil in human form, often made his appearance. Why he came, and whence,

no one knew. He prowled about, got drunk, and suddenly disappeared as if into the air, leaving no trace of his

existence. Then, behold, he seemed to have dropped from the sky again, and went flying about the street of

the village, of which no trace now remains, and which was not more than a hundred paces from Dikanka. He

would collect together all the Cossacks he met; then there were songs, laughter, and cash in plenty, and vodka

flowed like water. . . . He would address the pretty girls, and give them ribbons, earrings, strings of

beadsmore than they knew what to do with. It is true that the pretty girls rather hesitated about accepting

his presents: God knows, perhaps, what unclean hands they had passed through. My grandfather's aunt, who

kept at that time a tavern, in which Basavriuk (as they called this devilman) often caroused, said that no

consideration on the earth would have induced her to accept a gift from him. But then, again, how avoid

accepting? Fear seized on every one when he knit his shaggy brows, and gave a sidelong glance which might

send your feet God knows whither: whilst if you did accept, then the next night some fiend from the swamp,

with horns on his head, came and began to squeeze your neck, if there was a string of beads upon it; or bite

your finger, if there was a ring upon it; or drag you by the hair, if ribbons were braided in it. God have mercy,

then, on those who held such gifts! But here was the difficulty: it was impossible to get rid of them; if you

threw them into the water, the diabolical ring or necklace would skim along the surface and into your hand.

There was a church in the villageSt. Pantelei, if I remember rightly. There lived there a priest, Father

Athanasii of blessed memory. Observing that Basavriuk did not come to church, even at Easter, he

determined to reprove him and impose penance upon him. Well, he hardly escaped with his life. "Hark ye,

sir!" he thundered in reply, "learn to mind your own business instead of meddling in other people's, if you

don't want that throat of yours stuck with boiling kutya[1]." What was to be done with this unrepentant man?

Father Athanasii contented himself with announcing that any one who should make the acquaintance of

Basavriuk would be counted a Catholic, an enemy of Christ's orthodox church, not a member of the human

[1] A dish of rice or wheat flour, with honey and raisins, which is brought to the church on the celebration of

In this village there was a Cossack named Korzh, who had a labourer whom people called Peter the

Orphanperhaps because no one remembered either his father or mother. The church elder, it is true, said

that they had died of the pest in his second year; but my grandfather's aunt would not hear of that, and tried

with all her might to furnish him with parents, although poor Peter needed them about as much as we need

last year's snow. She said that his father had been in Zaporozhe, and had been taken prisoner by the Turks,

amongst whom he underwent God only knows what tortures, until having, by some miracle, disguised

himself as a eunuch, he made his escape. Little cared the blackbrowed youths and maidens about Peter's

parents. They merely remarked, that if he only had a new coat, a red sash, a black lambskin cap with a smart

blue crown on his head, a Turkish sabre by his side, a whip in one hand and a pipe with handsome mountings

in the other, he would surpass all the young men. But the pity was, that the only thing poor Peter had was a

grey gaberdine with more holes in it than there are gold pieces in a Jew's pocket. But that was not the worst

of it. Korzh had a daughter, such a beauty as I think you can hardly have chanced to see. My grandfather's

aunt used to sayand you know that it is easier for a woman to kiss the Evil One than to call any one else a

beautythat this Cossack maiden's cheeks were as plump and fresh as the pinkest poppy when, bathed in

God's dew, it unfolds its petals, and coquets with the rising sun; that her brows were evenly arched over her

bright eyes like black cords, such as our maidens buy nowadays, for their crosses and ducats, off the Moscow

pedlars who visit the villages with their baskets; that her little mouth, at sight of which the youths smacked

their lips, seemed made to warble the songs of nightingales; that her hair, black as the raven's wing, and soft

as young flax, fell in curls over her shoulders, for our maidens did not then plait their hair in pigtails

interwoven with pretty, brighthued ribbons. Eh! may I never intone another alleluia in the choir, if I would

not have kissed her, in spite of the grey which is making its way through the old wool which covers my pate,

and of the old woman beside me, like a thorn in my side! Well, you know what happens when young men and

maidens live side by side. In the twilight the heels of red boots were always visible in the place where

Pidorka chatted with her Peter. But Korzh would never have suspected anything out of the way, only one

dayit is evident that none but the Evil One could have inspired himPeter took into his head to kiss the

maiden's rosy lips with all his heart, without first looking well about him; and that same Evil Onemay the

son of a dog dream of the holy cross!caused the old greybeard, like a fool, to open the cottage door at that

same moment. Korzh was petrified, dropped his jaw, and clutched at the door for support. Those unlucky

Recovering himself, he took his grandfather's hunting whip from the wall, and was about to belabour Peter's

back with it, when Pidorka's little sixyearold brother Ivas rushed up from somewhere or other, and,

grasping his father's legs with his little hands, screamed out, "Daddy, daddy! don't beat Peter!" What was to

be done? A father's heart is not made of stone. Hanging the whip again on the wall, he led Peter quietly from

the house. "If you ever show yourself in my cottage again, or even under the windows, look out, Peter, for, by

heaven, your black moustache will disappear; and your black locks, though wound twice about your ears, will

take leave of your pate, or my name is not Terentiy Korzh." So saying, he gave him such a taste of his fist in

the nape of his neck, that all grew dark before Peter, and he flew headlong out of the place.

So there was an end of their kissing. Sorrow fell upon our turtle doves; and a rumour grew rife in the village

that a certain Pole, all embroidered with gold, with moustaches, sabre, spurs, and pockets jingling like the

bells of the bag with which our sacristan Taras goes through the church every day, had begun to frequent

Korzh's house. Now, it is well known why a father has visitors when there is a blackbrowed daughter about.

So, one day, Pidorka burst into tears, and caught the hand of her brother Ivas. "Ivas, my dear! Ivas, my love!

fly to Peter, my child of gold, like an arrow from a bow. Tell him all: I would have loved his brown eyes, I

would have kissed his fair face, but my fate decrees otherwise. More than one handkerchief have I wet with

burning tears. I am sad and heavy at heart. And my own father is my enemy. I will not marry the Pole, whom

I do not love. Tell him they are making ready for a wedding, but there will be no music at our wedding:

priests will sing instead of pipes and viols. I shall not dance with my bridegroom: they will carry me out.

Dark, dark will be my dwelling of maple wood; and, instead of chimneys, a cross will stand upon the roof."

Peter stood petrified, without moving from the spot, when the innocent child lisped out Pidorka's words to

him. "And I, wretched man, had thought to go to the Crimea and Turkey, to win gold and return to thee, my

beauty! But it may not be. We have been overlooked by the evil eye. I too shall have a wedding, dear one; but

no ecclesiastics will be present at that wedding. The black crow instead of the pope will caw over me; the

bare plain will be my dwelling; the dark blue cloud my rooftree. The eagle will claw out my brown eyes: the

rain will wash my Cossack bones, and the whirlwinds dry them. But what am I? Of what should I complain?

'Tis clear God willed it so. If I am to be lost, then so be it!" and he went straight to the tavern.

My late grandfather's aunt was somewhat surprised at seeing Peter at the tavern, at an hour when good men

go to morning mass; and stared at him as though in a dream when he called for a jug of brandy, about half a

pailful. But the poor fellow tried in vain to drown his woe. The vodka stung his tongue like nettles, and tasted

"You have sorrowed enough, Cossack," growled a bass voice behind him. He looked roundit was

Basavriuk! Ugh, what a face! His hair was like a brush, his eyes like those of a bull. "I know what you lack:

here it is." As he spoke he jingled a leather purse which hung from his girdle and smiled diabolically. Peter

shuddered. "Ha, ha, ha! how it shines!" he roared, shaking out ducats into his hands: "ha, ha, ha! how it

They struck hands upon it, and Basavriuk said, "You are just in time, Peter: tomorrow is St. John the

Baptist's day. Only on this one night in the year does the fern blossom. I will await you at midnight in the

I do not believe that chickens await the hour when the housewife brings their corn with as much anxiety as

Peter awaited the evening. He kept looking to see whether the shadows of the trees were not lengthening,

whether the sun was not turning red towards setting; and, the longer he watched, the more impatient he grew.

How long it was! Evidently, God's day had lost its end somewhere. But now the sun has set. The sky is red

only on one side, and it is already growing dark. It grows colder in the fields. It gets gloomier and gloomier,

and at last quite dark. At last! With heart almost bursting from his bosom, he set out and cautiously made his

way down through the thick woods into the deep hollow called the Bear's ravine. Basavriuk was already

waiting there. It was so dark that you could not see a yard before you. Hand in hand they entered the ravine,

pushing through the luxuriant thornbushes and stumbling at almost every step. At last they reached an open

spot. Peter looked about him: he had never chanced to come there before. Here Basavriuk halted.

"Do you see before you three hillocks? There are a great many kinds of flowers upon them. May some power

keep you from plucking even one of them. But as soon as the fern blossoms, seize it, and look not round, no

Peter wanted to ask some questions, but behold Basavriuk was no longer there. He approached the three

hillockswhere were the flowers? He saw none. The wild steppegrass grew all around, and hid everything

in its luxuriance. But the lightning flashed; and before him was a whole bed of flowers, all wonderful, all

strange: whilst amongst them there were also the simple fronds of fern. Peter doubted his senses, and stood

"What manner of prodigy is this? why, one can see these weeds ten times a day. What is there marvellous

But behold! the tiny flowerbud of the fern reddened and moved as though alive. It was a marvel in truth. It

grew larger and larger, and glowed like a burning coal. The tiny stars of light flashed up, something burst

softly, and the flower opened before his eyes like a flame, lighting the others about it.

"Now is the time," thought Peter, and extended his hand. He saw hundreds of hairy hands reach also for the

flower from behind him, and there was a sound of scampering in his rear. He half closed his eyes, and

Upon a stump sat Basavriuk, quite blue like a corpse. He did not move so much as a finger. Hi eyes were

immovably fixed on something visible to him alone; his mouth was half open and speechless. Nothing stirred

around. Ugh! it was horrible! But then a whistle was heard which made Peter's heart grow cold within him;

and it seemed to him that the grass whispered, and the flowers began to talk among themselves in delicate

voices, like little silver bells, while the trees rustled in murmuring contention;Basavriuk's face suddenly

became full of life, and his eyes sparkled. "The witch has just returned," he muttered between his teeth.

"Hearken, Peter: a charmer will stand before you in a moment; do whatever she commands; if notyou are

Then he parted the thornbushes with a knotty stick and before him stood a tiny farmhouse. Basavriuk smote

it with his fist, and the wall trembled. A large black dog ran out to meet them, and with a whine transformed

"Don't be angry, don't be angry, you old Satan!" said Basavriuk, employing such words as would have made

a good man stop his ears. Behold, instead of a cat, an old woman all bent into a bow, with a face wrinkled

"A fine charmer!" thought Peter; and cold chills ran down his back. The witch tore the flower from his hand,

stooped and muttered over it for a long time, sprinkling it with some kind of water. Sparks flew from her

Peter threw it, but what wonder was this? The flower did not fall straight to the earth, but for a long while

twinkled like a fiery ball through the darkness, and swam through the air like a boat. At last it began to sink

lower and lower, and fell so far away that the little star, hardly larger than a poppyseed, was barely visible.

"There!" croaked the old woman, in a dull voice: and Basavriuk, giving him a spade, said, "Dig here, Peter:

Peter spat on his hands, seized the spade, pressed his foot on it, and turned up the earth, a second, a third, a

fourth time. The spade clinked against something hard, and would go no further. Then his eyes began to

distinguish a small, ironbound coffer. He tried to seize it; but the chest began to sink into the earth, deeper,

farther, and deeper still: whilst behind him he heard a laugh like a serpent's hiss.

"No, you shall not have the gold until you shed human blood," said the witch, and she led up to him a child of

six, covered with a white sheet, and indicated by a sign that he was to cut off his head.

Peter was stunned. A trifle, indeed, to cut off a man's, or even an innocent child's, head for no reason

whatever! In wrath he tore off the sheet enveloping the victim's head, and behold! before him stood Ivas. The

poor child crossed his little hands, and hung his head. Peter flew at the witch with the knife like a madman,

"What did you promise for the girl?" thundered Basavriuk; and like a shot he was on his back. The witch

stamped her foot: a blue flame flashed from the earth and illumined all within it. The earth became

transparent as if moulded of crystal; and all that was within it became visible, as if in the palm of the hand.

Ducats, precious stones in chests and pots, were piled in heaps beneath the very spot they stood on. Peter's

eyes flashed, his mind grew troubled. . . . He grasped the knife like a madman, and the innocent blood spurted

into his eyes. Diabolical laughter resounded on all sides. Misshapen monsters flew past him in flocks. The

witch, fastening her hands in the headless trunk, like a wolf, drank its blood. His head whirled. Collecting all

his strength, he set out to run. Everything grew red before him. The trees seemed steeped in blood, and

burned and groaned. The sky glowed and threatened. Burning points, like lightning, flickered before his eyes.

Utterly exhausted, he rushed into his miserable hovel and fell to the ground like a log. A deathlike sleep

Two days and two nights did Peter sleep, without once awakening. When he came to himself, on the third

day, he looked long at all the corners of his hut, but in vain did he endeavour to recollect what had taken

place; his memory was like a miser's pocket, from which you cannot entice a quarter of a kopek. Stretching

himself, he heard something clash at his feet. He looked, there were two bags of gold. Then only, as if in a

dream, he recollected that he had been seeking for treasure, and that something had frightened him in the

Korzh saw the sacksand was mollified. "A fine fellow, Peter, quite unequalled! yes, and did I not love

him? Was he not to me as my own son?" And the old fellow repeated this fiction until he wept over it

himself. Pidorka began to tell Peter how some passing gipsies had stolen Ivas; but he could not even recall

himto such a degree had the Devil's influence darkened his mind! There was no reason for delay. The Pole

was dismissed, and the weddingfeast prepared; rolls were baked, towels and handkerchiefs embroidered; the

young people were seated at table; the weddingloaf was cut; guitars, cymbals, pipes, viols sounded, and

A wedding in the olden times was not like one of the present day. My grandfather's aunt used to tell how the

maidensin festive headdresses of yellow, blue, and pink ribbons, above which they bound gold braid; in

thin chemisettes embroidered on all the seams with red silk, and strewn with tiny silver flowers; in morocco

shoes, with high iron heelsdanced the gorlitza as swimmingly as peacocks, and as wildly as the whirlwind;

how the youthswith their shipshaped caps upon their heads, the crowns of gold brocade, and two horns

projecting, one in front and another behind, of the very finest black lambskin; in tunics of the finest blue silk

with red bordersstepped forward one by one, their arms akimbo in stately form, and executed the gopak;

how the ladsin tall Cossack caps, and light cloth gaberdines, girt with silver embroidered belts, their short

pipes in their teethskipped before them and talked nonsense. Even Korzh as he gazed at the young people

could not help getting gay in his old age. Guitar in hand, alternately puffing at his pipe and singing, a

brandyglass upon his head, the greybeard began the national dance amid loud shouts from the

What will not people devise in merry mood? They even began to disguise their faces till they did not look

like human beings. On such occasions one would dress himself as a Jew, another as the Devil: they would

begin by kissing each other, and end by seizing each other by the hair. God be with them! you laughed till

you held your sides. They dressed themselves in Turkish and Tatar garments. All upon them glowed like a

An amusing thing happened to my grandfather's aunt, who was at this wedding. She was wearing an ample

Tatar robe, and, wineglass in hand, was entertaining the company. The Evil One instigated one man to pour

vodka over her from behind. Another, at the same moment, evidently not by accident, struck a light, and held

it to her. The flame flashed up, and poor aunt, in terror, flung her dress off, before them all. Screams,

laughter, jests, arose as if at a fair. In a word, the old folks could not recall so merry a wedding.

Pidorka and Peter began to live like a gentleman and lady. There was plenty of everything and everything

was fine. . . . But honest folk shook their heads when they marked their way of living. "From the Devil no

good can come," they unanimously agreed. "Whence, except from the tempter of orthodox people, came this

wealth? Where else could he have got such a lot of gold from? Why, on the very day that he got rich, did

Say, if you can, that people only imagine things! A month had not passed, and no one would have recognised

Peter. He sat in one spot, saying no word to any one; but continually thinking and seemingly trying to recall

something. When Pidorka succeeded in getting him to speak, he appeared to forget himself, and would carry

on a conversation, and even grow cheerful; but if he inadvertently glanced at the sacks, "Stop, stop! I have

forgotten," he would cry, and again plunge into reverie and strive to recall something. Sometimes when he sat

still a long time in one place, it seemed to him as though it were coming, just coming back to mind, but again

all would fade away. It seemed as if he was sitting in the tavern: they brought him vodka; vodka stung him;

vodka was repulsive to him. Some one came along and struck him on the shoulder; but beyond that

everything was veiled in darkness before him. The perspiration would stream down his face, and he would sit

What did not Pirdorka do? She consulted the sorceresses; and they poured out fear, and brewed stomach

ache[2]but all to no avail. And so the summer passed. Many a Cossack had mowed and reaped; many a

Cossack, more enterprising than the rest, had set off upon an expedition. Flocks of ducks were already

[2] "To pour out fear" refers to a practice resorted to in case of fear. When it is desired to know what caused

this, melted lead or wax is poured into water, and the object whose form it assumes is the one which

frightened the sick person; after this, the fear departs. Sonyashnitza is brewed for giddiness and pain in the

bowels. To this end, a bit of stump is burned, thrown into a jug, and turned upside down into a bowl filled

with water, which is placed on the patient's stomach: after an incantation, he is given a spoonful of this water

It was red upon the steppes. Ricks of grain, like Cossack's caps, dotted the fields here and there. On the

highway were to be encountered waggons loaded with brushwood and logs. The ground had become more

solid, and in places was touched with frost. Already had the snow begun to fall and the branches of the trees

were covered with rime like rabbitskin. Already on frosty days the robin redbreast hopped about on the

snowheaps like a foppish Polish nobleman, and picked out grains of corn; and children, with huge sticks,

played hockey upon the ice; while their fathers lay quietly on the stove, issuing forth at intervals with lighted

pipes in their lips, to growl, in regular fashion, at the orthodox frost, or to take the air, and thresh the grain

spread out in the barn. At last the snow began to melt, and the ice slipped away: but Peter remained the same;

and, the more time went on, the more morose he grew. He sat in the cottage as though nailed to the spot, with

the sacks of gold at his feet. He grew averse to companionship, his hair grew long, he became terrible to look

at; and still he thought of but one thing, still he tried to recall something, and got angry and illtempered

because he could not. Often, rising wildly from his seat, he gesticulated violently and fixed his eyes on

something as though desirous of catching it: his lips moving as though desirous of uttering some

longforgotten word, but remaining speechless. Fury would take possession of him: he would gnaw and bite

his hands like a man half crazy, and in his vexation would tear out his hair by the handful, until, calming

down, he would relapse into forgetfulness, as it were, and then would again strive to recall the past and be

Pidorka was neither dead not alive. At first it was horrible for her to remain alone with him in the cottage;

but, in course of time, the poor woman grew accustomed to her sorrow. But it was impossible to recognise

the Pidorka of former days. No blushes, no smiles: she was thin and worn with grief, and had wept her bright

eyes away. Once some one who took pity on her advised her to go to the witch who dwelt in the Bear's

ravine, and enjoyed the reputation of being able to cure every disease in the world. She determined to try that

last remedy: and finally persuaded the old woman to come to her. This was on St. John's Eve, as it chanced.

Peter lay insensible on the bench, and did not observe the newcomer. Slowly he rose, and looked about him.

Suddenly he trembled in every limb, as though he were on the scaffold: his hair rose upon his head, and he

"I have remembered, remembered!" he cried, in terrible joy; and, swinging a hatchet round his head, he struck

at the old woman with all his might. The hatchet penetrated the oaken door nearly four inches. The old

woman disappeared; and a child of seven, covered in a white sheet, stood in the middle of the cottage. . . .

The sheet flew off. "Ivas!" cried Pidorka, and ran to him; but the apparition became covered from head to

She ran into the passage in her terror, but, on recovering herself a little, wished to help Peter. In vain! the

door had slammed to behind her, so that she could not open it. People ran up, and began to knock: they broke

in the door, as though there were but one mind among them. The whole cottage was full of smoke; and just in

the middle, where Peter had stood, was a heap of ashes whence smoke was still rising. They flung themselves

upon the sacks: only broken potsherds lay there instead of ducats. The Cossacks stood with staring eyes and

open mouths, as if rooted to the earth, not daring to move a hair, such terror did this wonder inspire in them.

I do not remember what happened next. Pidorka made a vow to go upon a pilgrimage, collected the property

left her by her father, and in a few days it was as if she had never been in the village. Whither she had gone,

no one could tell. Officious old women would have despatched her to the same place whither Peter had gone;

but a Cossack from Kief reported that he had seen, in a cloister, a nun withered to a mere skeleton who

prayed unceasingly. Her fellowvillagers recognised her as Pidorka by the tokensthat no one heard her

utter a word; and that she had come on foot, and had brought a frame for the picture of God's mother, set with

But this was not the end, if you please. On the same day that the Evil One made away with Peter, Basavriuk

appeared again; but all fled from him. They knew what sort of a being he wasnone else than Satan, who

had assumed human form in order to unearth treasures; and, since treasures do not yield to unclean hands, he

seduced the young. That same year, all deserted their earthen huts and collected in a village; but even there

My late grandfather's aunt said that he was particularly angry with her because she had abandoned her former

tavern, and tried with all his might to revenge himself upon her. Once the village elders were assembled in

the tavern, and, as the saying goes, were arranging the precedence at the table, in the middle of which was

placed a small roasted lamb, shame to say. They chattered about this, that, and the otheramong the rest

about various marvels and strange things. Well, they saw something; it would have been nothing if only one

had seen it, but all saw it, and it was this: the sheep raised his head, his goggling eyes became alive and

sparkled; and the black, bristling moustache, which appeared for one instant, made a significant gesture at

those present. All at once recognised Basavriuk's countenance in the sheep's head; my grandfather's aunt

thought it was on the point of asking for vodka. The worthy elders seized their hats and hastened home.

Another time, the church elder himself, who was fond of an occasional private interview with my

grandfather's brandyglass, had not succeeded in getting to the bottom twice, when he beheld the glass

bowing very low to him. "Satan take you, let us make the sign of the cross over you!"And the same marvel

happened to his better half. She had just begun to mix the dough in a huge kneadingtrough when suddenly

the trough sprang up. "Stop, stop! where are you going?" Putting its arms akimbo, with dignity, it went

skipping all about the cottageyou may laugh, but it was no laughing matter to our grandfathers. And in

vain did Father Athanasii go through all the village with holy water, and chase the Devil through all the

streets with his brush. My late grandfather's aunt long complained that, as soon as it was dark, some one came

Well! All appears to be quiet now in the place where our village stands; but it was not so very long agomy

father was still alivethat I remember how a good man could not pass the ruined tavern which a dishonest

race had long managed for their own interest. From the smokeblackened chimneys smoke poured out in a

pillar, and rising high in the air, rolled off like a cap, scattering burning coals over the steppe; and Satan (the

son of a dog should not be mentioned) sobbed so pitifully in his lair that the startled ravens rose in flocks

In the department ofbut it is better not to mention the department. There is nothing more irritable than

departments, regiments, courts of justice, and, in a word, every branch of public service. Each individual

attached to them nowadays thinks all society insulted in his person. Quite recently a complaint was received

from a justice of the peace, in which he plainly demonstrated that all the imperial institutions were going to

the dogs, and that the Czar's sacred name was being taken in vain; and in proof he appended to the complaint

a romance in which the justice of the peace is made to appear about once every ten lines, and sometimes in a

drunken condition. Therefore, in order to avoid all unpleasantness, it will be better to describe the department

So, in a certain department there was a certain officialnot a very high one, it must be allowedshort of

stature, somewhat pockmarked, redhaired, and shortsighted, with a bald forehead, wrinkled cheeks, and a

complexion of the kind known as sanguine. The St. Petersburg climate was responsible for this. As for his

official status, he was what is called a perpetual titular councillor, over which, as is well known, some writers

make merry, and crack their jokes, obeying the praiseworthy custom of attacking those who cannot bite back.

His family name was Bashmatchkin. This name is evidently derived from "bashmak" (shoe); but when, at

what time, and in what manner, is not known. His father and grandfather, and all the Bashmatchkins, always

wore boots, which only had new heels two or three times a year. His name was Akakiy Akakievitch. It may

strike the reader as rather singular and farfetched, but he may rest assured that it was by no means

farfetched, and that the circumstances were such that it would have been impossible to give him any other.

Akakiy Akakievitch was born, if my memory fails me not, in the evening of the 23rd of March. His mother,

the wife of a Government official and a very fine woman, made all due arrangements for having the child

baptised. She was lying on the bed opposite the door; on her right stood the godfather, Ivan Ivanovitch

Eroshkin, a most estimable man, who served as presiding officer of the senate, while the godmother, Anna

Semenovna Byelobrushkova, the wife of an officer of the quarter, and a woman of rare virtues. They offered

the mother her choice of three names, Mokiya, Sossiya, or that the child should be called after the martyr

Khozdazat. "No," said the good woman, "all those names are poor." In order to please her they opened the

calendar to another place; three more names appeared, Triphiliy, Dula, and Varakhasiy. "This is a judgment,"

said the old woman. "What names! I truly never heard the like. Varada or Varukh might have been borne, but

not Triphiliy and Varakhasiy!" They turned to another page and found Pavsikakhiy and Vakhtisiy. "Now I

see," said the old woman, "that it is plainly fate. And since such is the case, it will be better to name him after

his father. His father's name was Akakiy, so let his son's be Akakiy too." In this manner he became Akakiy

Akakievitch. They christened the child, whereat he wept and made a grimace, as though he foresaw that he

In this manner did it all come about. We have mentioned it in order that the reader might see for himself that

it was a case of necessity, and that it was utterly impossible to give him any other name. When and how he

entered the department, and who appointed him, no one could remember. However much the directors and

chiefs of all kinds were changed, he was always to be seen in the same place, the same attitude, the same

occupation; so that it was afterwards affirmed that he had been born in undress uniform with a bald head. No

respect was shown him in the department. The porter not only did not rise from his seat when he passed, but

never even glanced at him, any more than if a fly had flown through the receptionroom. His superiors

treated him in coolly despotic fashion. Some subchief would thrust a paper under his nose without so much

as saying, "Copy," or "Here's a nice interesting affair," or anything else agreeable, as is customary amongst

wellbred officials. And he took it, looking only at the paper and not observing who handed it to him, or

The young officials laughed at and made fun of him, so far as their official wit permitted; told in his presence

various stories concocted about him, and about his landlady, an old woman of seventy; declared that she beat

him; asked when the wedding was to be; and strewed bits of paper over his head, calling them snow. But

Akakiy Akakievitch answered not a word, any more than if there had been no one there besides himself. It

even had no effect upon his work: amid all these annoyances he never made a single mistake in a letter. But if

the joking became wholly unbearable, as when they jogged his hand and prevented his attending to his work,

he would exclaim, "Leave me alone! Why do you insult me?" And there was something strange in the words

and the voice in which they were uttered. There was in it something which moved to pity; so much that one

young man, a newcomer, who, taking pattern by the others, had permitted himself to make sport of Akakiy,

suddenly stopped short, as though all about him had undergone a transformation, and presented itself in a

different aspect. Some unseen force repelled him from the comrades whose acquaintance he had made, on the

supposition that they were wellbred and polite men. Long afterwards, in his gayest moments, there recurred

to his mind the little official with the bald forehead, with his heartrending words, "Leave me alone! Why do

you insult me?" In these moving words, other words resounded"I am thy brother." And the young man

covered his face with his hand; and many a time afterwards, in the course of his life, shuddered at seeing how

much inhumanity there is in man, how much savage coarseness is concealed beneath delicate, refined

worldliness, and even, O God! in that man whom the world acknowledges as honourable and noble.

It would be difficult to find another man who lived so entirely for his duties. It is not enough to say that

Akakiy laboured with zeal: no, he laboured with love. In his copying, he found a varied and agreeable

employment. Enjoyment was written on his face: some letters were even favourites with him; and when he

encountered these, he smiled, winked, and worked with his lips, till it seemed as though each letter might be

read in his face, as his pen traced it. If his pay had been in proportion to his zeal, he would, perhaps, to his

great surprise, have been made even a councillor of state. But he worked, as his companions, the wits, put it,

Moreover, it is impossible to say that no attention was paid to him. One director being a kindly man, and

desirous of rewarding him for his long service, ordered him to be given something more important than mere

copying. So he was ordered to make a report of an already concluded affair to another department: the duty

consisting simply in changing the heading and altering a few words from the first to the third person. This

caused him so much toil that he broke into a perspiration, rubbed his forehead, and finally said, "No, give me

Outside this copying, it appeared that nothing existed for him. He gave no thought to his clothes: his undress

uniform was not green, but a sort of rustymeal colour. The collar was low, so that his neck, in spite of the

fact that it was not long, seemed inordinately so as it emerged from it, like the necks of those plaster cats

which wag their heads, and are carried about upon the heads of scores of image sellers. And something was

always sticking to his uniform, either a bit of hay or some trifle. Moreover, he had a peculiar knack, as he

walked along the street, of arriving beneath a window just as all sorts of rubbish were being flung out of it:

hence he always bore about on his hat scraps of melon rinds and other such articles. Never once in his life did

he give heed to what was going on every day in the street; while it is well known that his young brother

officials train the range of their glances till they can see when any one's trouser straps come undone upon the

opposite sidewalk, which always brings a malicious smile to their faces. But Akakiy Akakievitch saw in all

things the clean, even strokes of his written lines; and only when a horse thrust his nose, from some unknown

quarter, over his shoulder, and sent a whole gust of wind down his neck from his nostrils, did he observe that

On reaching home, he sat down at once at the table, supped his cabbage soup up quickly, and swallowed a bit

of beef with onions, never noticing their taste, and gulping down everything with flies and anything else

which the Lord happened to send at the moment. His stomach filled, he rose from the table, and copied

papers which he had brought home. If there happened to be none, he took copies for himself, for his own

gratification, especially if the document was noteworthy, not on account of its style, but of its being

Even at the hour when the grey St. Petersburg sky had quite dispersed, and all the official world had eaten or

dined, each as he could, in accordance with the salary he received and his own fancy; when all were resting

from the departmental jar of pens, running to and fro from their own and other people's indispensable

occupations, and from all the work that an uneasy man makes willingly for himself, rather than what is

necessary; when officials hasten to dedicate to pleasure the time which is left to them, one bolder than the rest

going to the theatre; another, into the street looking under all the bonnets; another wasting his evening in

compliments to some pretty girl, the star of a small official circle; anotherand this is the common case of

allvisiting his comrades on the fourth or third floor, in two small rooms with an anteroom or kitchen, and

some pretensions to fashion, such as a lamp or some other trifle which has cost many a sacrifice of dinner or

pleasure trip; in a word, at the hour when all officials disperse among the contracted quarters of their friends,

to play whist, as they sip their tea from glasses with a kopek's worth of sugar, smoke long pipes, relate at

times some bits of gossip which a Russian man can never, under any circumstances, refrain from, and, when

there is nothing else to talk of, repeat eternal anecdotes about the commandant to whom they had sent word

that the tails of the horses on the Falconet Monument had been cut off, when all strive to divert themselves,

Akakiy Akakievitch indulged in no kind of diversion. No one could ever say that he had seen him at any kind

of evening party. Having written to his heart's content, he lay down to sleep, smiling at the thought of the

Thus flowed on the peaceful life of the man, who, with a salary of four hundred rubles, understood how to be

content with his lot; and thus it would have continued to flow on, perhaps, to extreme old age, were it not that

there are various ills strewn along the path of life for titular councillors as well as for private, actual, court,

and every other species of councillor, even for those who never give any advice or take any themselves.

There exists in St. Petersburg a powerful foe of all who receive a salary of four hundred rubles a year, or

thereabouts. This foe is no other than the Northern cold, although it is said to be very healthy. At nine o'clock

in the morning, at the very hour when the streets are filled with men bound for the various official

departments, it begins to bestow such powerful and piercing nips on all noses impartially that the poor

officials really do not know what to do with them. At an hour when the foreheads of even those who occupy

exalted positions ache with the cold, and tears start to their eyes, the poor titular councillors are sometimes

quite unprotected. Their only salvation lies in traversing as quickly as possible, in their thin little cloaks, five

or six streets, and then warming their feet in the porter's room, and so thawing all their talents and

Akakiy Akakievitch had felt for some time that his back and shoulders suffered with peculiar poignancy, in

spite of the fact that he tried to traverse the distance with all possible speed. He began finally to wonder

whether the fault did not lie in his cloak. He examined it thoroughly at home, and discovered that in two

places, namely, on the back and shoulders, it had become thin as gauze: the cloth was worn to such a degree

that he could see through it, and the lining had fallen into pieces. You must know that Akakiy Akakievitch's

cloak served as an object of ridicule to the officials: they even refused it the noble name of cloak, and called

it a cape. In fact, it was of singular make: its collar diminishing year by year, but serving to patch its other

parts. The patching did not exhibit great skill on the part of the tailor, and was, in fact, baggy and ugly.

Seeing how the matter stood, Akakiy Akakievitch decided that it would be necessary to take the cloak to

Petrovitch, the tailor, who lived somewhere on the fourth floor up a dark staircase, and who, in spite of his

having but one eye, and pockmarks all over his face, busied himself with considerable success in repairing

the trousers and coats of officials and others; that is to say, when he was sober and not nursing some other

It is not necessary to say much about this tailor; but, as it is the custom to have the character of each

personage in a novel clearly defined, there is no help for it, so here is Petrovitch the tailor. At first he was

called only Grigoriy, and was some gentleman's serf; he commenced calling himself Petrovitch from the time

when he received his free papers, and further began to drink heavily on all holidays, at first on the great ones,

and then on all church festivities without discrimination, wherever a cross stood in the calendar. On this point

he was faithful to ancestral custom; and when quarrelling with his wife, he called her a low female and a

German. As we have mentioned his wife, it will be necessary to say a word or two about her. Unfortunately,

little is known of her beyond the fact that Petrovitch has a wife, who wears a cap and a dress; but cannot lay

claim to beauty, at least, no one but the soldiers of the guard even looked under her cap when they met her.

Ascending the staircase which led to Petrovitch's roomwhich staircase was all soaked with dishwater, and

reeked with the smell of spirits which affects the eyes, and is an inevitable adjunct to all dark stairways in St.

Petersburg housesascending the stairs, Akakiy Akakievitch pondered how much Petrovitch would ask, and

mentally resolved not to give more than two rubles. The door was open; for the mistress, in cooking some

fish, had raised such a smoke in the kitchen that not even the beetles were visible. Akakiy Akakievitch passed

through the kitchen unperceived, even by the housewife, and at length reached a room where he beheld

Petrovitch seated on a large unpainted table, with his legs tucked under him like a Turkish pasha. His feet

were bare, after the fashion of tailors who sit at work; and the first thing which caught the eye was his thumb,

with a deformed nail thick and strong as a turtle's shell. About Petrovitch's neck hung a skein of silk and

thread, and upon his knees lay some old garment. He had been trying unsuccessfully for three minutes to

thread his needle, and was enraged at the darkness and even at the thread, growling in a low voice, "It won't

Akakiy Akakievitch was vexed at arriving at the precise moment when Petrovitch was angry; he liked to

order something of Petrovitch when the latter was a little downhearted, or, as his wife expressed it, "when he

had settled himself with brandy, the oneeyed devil!" Under such circumstances, Petrovitch generally came

down in his price very readily, and even bowed and returned thanks. Afterwards, to be sure, his wife would

come, complaining that her husband was drunk, and so had fixed the price too low; but, if only a tenkopek

piece were added, then the matter was settled. But now it appeared that Petrovitch was in a sober condition,

and therefore rough, taciturn, and inclined to demand, Satan only knows what price. Akakiy Akakievitch felt

this, and would gladly have beat a retreat; but he was in for it. Petrovitch screwed up his one eye very intently

"I wish you a good morning, sir," said Petrovitch, squinting at Akakiy Akakievitch's hands, to see what sort

"Ah! Ito you, Petrovitch, this" It must be known that Akakiy Akakievitch expressed himself chiefly by

prepositions, adverbs, and scraps of phrases which had no meaning whatever. If the matter was a very

difficult one, he had a habit of never completing his sentences; so that frequently, having begun a phrase with

the words, "This, in fact, is quite" he forgot to go on, thinking that he had already finished it.

"What is it?" asked Petrovitch, and with his one eye scanned Akakievitch's whole uniform from the collar

down to the cuffs, the back, the tails and the buttonholes, all of which were well known to him, since they

were his own handiwork. Such is the habit of tailors; it is the first thing they do on meeting one.

"But I, here, thisPetrovitcha cloak, clothhere you see, everywhere, in different places, it is quite

strongit is a little dusty, and looks old, but it is new, only here in one place it is a littleon the back, and

here on one of the shoulders, it is a little worn, yes, here on this shoulder it is a littledo you see? that is all.

Petrovitch took the cloak, spread it out, to begin with, on the table, looked hard at it, shook his head, reached

out his hand to the windowsill for his snuffbox, adorned with the portrait of some general, though what

general is unknown, for the place where the face should have been had been rubbed through by the finger,

and a square bit of paper had been pasted over it. Having taken a pinch of snuff, Petrovitch held up the cloak,

and inspected it against the light, and again shook his head once more. After which he again lifted the

generaladorned lid with its bit of pasted paper, and having stuffed his nose with snuff, closed and put away

the snuffbox, and said finally, "No, it is impossible to mend it; it's a wretched garment!"

"Why is it impossible, Petrovitch?" he said, almost in the pleading voice of a child; "all that ails it is, that it is

"Yes, patches could be found, patches are easily found," said Petrovitch, "but there's nothing to sew them to.

The thing is completely rotten; if you put a needle to itsee, it will give way."

"But there is nothing to put the patches on to; there's no use in strengthening it; it is too far gone. It's lucky

"No," said Petrovitch decisively, "there is nothing to be done with it. It's a thoroughly bad job. You'd better,

when the cold winter weather comes on, make yourself some gaiters out of it, because stockings are not

warm. The Germans invented them in order to make more money." Petrovitch loved, on all occasions, to

At the word "new," all grew dark before Akakiy Akakievitch's eyes, and everything in the room began to

whirl round. The only thing he saw clearly was the general with the paper face on the lid of Petrovitch's

snuffbox. "A new one?" said he, as if still in a dream: "why, I have no money for that."

"Well, you would have to lay out a hundred and fifty or more," said Petrovitch, and pursed up his lips

significantly. He liked to produce powerful effects, liked to stun utterly and suddenly, and then to glance

"A hundred and fifty rubles for a cloak!" shrieked poor Akakiy Akakievitch, perhaps for the first time in his

"Yes, sir," said Petrovitch, "for any kind of cloak. If you have a marten fur on the collar, or a silklined hood,

"Petrovitch, please," said Akakiy Akakievitch in a beseeching tone, not hearing, and not trying to hear,

Petrovitch's words, and disregarding all his "effects," "some repairs, in order that it may wear yet a little

"No, it would only be a waste of time and money," said Petrovitch; and Akakiy Akakievitch went away after

these words, utterly discouraged. But Petrovitch stood for some time after his departure, with significantly

compressed lips, and without betaking himself to his work, satisfied that he would not be dropped, and an

Akakiy Akakievitch went out into the street as if in a dream. "Such an affair!" he said to himself: "I did not

think it had come to" and then after a pause, he added, "Well, so it is! see what it has come to at last! and I

never imagined that it was so!" Then followed a long silence, after which he exclaimed, "Well, so it is! see

what alreadynothing unexpected thatit would be nothingwhat a strange circumstance!" So saying,

instead of going home, he went in exactly the opposite direction without himself suspecting it. On the way, a

chimneysweep bumped up against him, and blackened his shoulder, and a whole hatful of rubbish landed on

him from the top of a house which was building. He did not notice it; and only when he ran against a

watchman, who, having planted his halberd beside him, was shaking some snuff from his box into his horny

hand, did he recover himself a little, and that because the watchman said, "Why are you poking yourself into

a man's very face? Haven't you the pavement?" This caused him to look about him, and turn towards home.

There only, he finally began to collect his thoughts, and to survey his position in its clear and actual light, and

to argue with himself, sensibly and frankly, as with a reasonable friend with whom one can discuss private

and personal matters. "No," said Akakiy Akakievitch, "it is impossible to reason with Petrovitch now; he is

thatevidently his wife has been beating him. I'd better go to him on Sunday morning; after Saturday night

he will be a little crosseyed and sleepy, for he will want to get drunk, and his wife won't give him any

money; and at such a time, a tenkopek piece in his hand willhe will become more fit to reason with, and

then the cloak, and that" Thus argued Akakiy Akakievitch with himself, regained his courage, and waited

until the first Sunday, when, seeing from afar that Petrovitch's wife had left the house, he went straight to

Petrovitch's eye was, indeed, very much askew after Saturday: his head drooped, and he was very sleepy; but

for all that, as soon as he knew what it was a question of, it seemed as though Satan jogged his memory.

"Impossible," said he: "please to order a new one." Thereupon Akakiy Akakievitch handed over the

tenkopek piece. "Thank you, sir; I will drink your good health," said Petrovitch: "but as for the cloak, don't

trouble yourself about it; it is good for nothing. I will make you a capital new one, so let us settle about it

Akakiy Akakievitch was still for mending it; but Petrovitch would not hear of it, and said, "I shall certainly

have to make you a new one, and you may depend upon it that I shall do my best. It may even be, as the

Then Akakiy Akakievitch saw that it was impossible to get along without a new cloak, and his spirit sank

utterly. How, in fact, was it to be done? Where was the money to come from? He might, to be sure, depend,

in part, upon his present at Christmas; but that money had long been allotted beforehand. He must have some

new trousers, and pay a debt of long standing to the shoemaker for putting new tops to his old boots, and he

must order three shirts from the seamstress, and a couple of pieces of linen. In short, all his money must be

spent; and even if the director should be so kind as to order him to receive fortyfive rubles instead of forty,

or even fifty, it would be a mere nothing, a mere drop in the ocean towards the funds necessary for a cloak:

although he knew that Petrovitch was often wrongheaded enough to blurt out some outrageous price, so that

even his own wife could not refrain from exclaiming, "Have you lost your senses, you fool?" At one time he

would not work at any price, and now it was quite likely that he had named a higher sum than the cloak

But although he knew that Petrovitch would undertake to make a cloak for eighty rubles, still, where was he

to get the eighty rubles from? He might possibly manage half, yes, half might be procured, but where was the

other half to come from? But the reader must first be told where the first half came from. Akakiy Akakievitch

had a habit of putting, for every ruble he spent, a groschen into a small box, fastened with a lock and key, and

with a slit in the top for the reception of money. At the end of every halfyear he counted over the heap of

coppers, and changed it for silver. This he had done for a long time, and in the course of years, the sum had

mounted up to over forty rubles. Thus he had one half on hand; but where was he to find the other half?

where was he to get another forty rubles from? Akakiy Akakievitch thought and thought, and decided that it

would be necessary to curtail his ordinary expenses, for the space of one year at least, to dispense with tea in

the evening; to burn no candles, and, if there was anything which he must do, to go into his landlady's room,

and work by her light. When he went into the street, he must walk as lightly as he could, and as cautiously,

upon the stones, almost upon tiptoe, in order not to wear his heels down in too short a time; he must give the

laundress as little to wash as possible; and, in order not to wear out his clothes, he must take them off, as soon

as he got home, and wear only his cotton dressinggown, which had been long and carefully saved.

To tell the truth, it was a little hard for him at first to accustom himself to these deprivations; but he got used

to them at length, after a fashion, and all went smoothly. He even got used to being hungry in the evening,

but he made up for it by treating himself, so to say, in spirit, by bearing ever in mind the idea of his future

cloak. From that time forth his existence seemed to become, in some way, fuller, as if he were married, or as

if some other man lived in him, as if, in fact, he were not alone, and some pleasant friend had consented to

travel along life's path with him, the friend being no other than the cloak, with thick wadding and a strong

lining incapable of wearing out. He became more lively, and even his character grew firmer, like that of a

man who has made up his mind, and set himself a goal. From his face and gait, doubt and indecision, all

hesitating and wavering traits disappeared of themselves. Fire gleamed in his eyes, and occasionally the

boldest and most daring ideas flitted through his mind; why not, for instance, have marten fur on the collar?

The thought of this almost made him absentminded. Once, in copying a letter, he nearly made a mistake, so

that he exclaimed almost aloud, "Ugh!" and crossed himself. Once, in the course of every month, he had a

conference with Petrovitch on the subject of the cloak, where it would be better to buy the cloth, and the

colour, and the price. He always returned home satisfied, though troubled, reflecting that the time would

The affair progressed more briskly than he had expected. Far beyond all his hopes, the director awarded

neither forty nor fortyfive rubles for Akakiy Akakievitch's share, but sixty. Whether he suspected that

Akakiy Akakievitch needed a cloak, or whether it was merely chance, at all events, twenty extra rubles were

by this means provided. This circumstance hastened matters. Two or three months more of hunger and

Akakiy Akakievitch had accumulated about eighty rubles. His heart, generally so quiet, began to throb. On

the first possible day, he went shopping in company with Petrovitch. They bought some very good cloth, and

at a reasonable rate too, for they had been considering the matter for six months, and rarely let a month pass

without their visiting the shops to inquire prices. Petrovitch himself said that no better cloth could be had. For

lining, they selected a cotton stuff, but so firm and thick that Petrovitch declared it to be better than silk, and

even prettier and more glossy. They did not buy the marten fur, because it was, in fact, dear, but in its stead,

they picked out the very best of catskin which could be found in the shop, and which might, indeed, be

Petrovitch worked at the cloak two whole weeks, for there was a great deal of quilting: otherwise it would

have been finished sooner. He charged twelve rubles for the job, it could not possibly have been done for

less. It was all sewed with silk, in small, double seams; and Petrovitch went over each seam afterwards with

It wasit is difficult to say precisely on what day, but probably the most glorious one in Akakiy

Akakievitch's life, when Petrovitch at length brought home the cloak. He brought it in the morning, before the

hour when it was necessary to start for the department. Never did a cloak arrive so exactly in the nick of time;

for the severe cold had set in, and it seemed to threaten to increase. Petrovitch brought the cloak himself as

befits a good tailor. On his countenance was a significant expression, such as Akakiy Akakievitch had never

beheld there. He seemed fully sensible that he had done no small deed, and crossed a gulf separating tailors

who only put in linings, and execute repairs, from those who make new things. He took the cloak out of the

pocket handkerchief in which he had brought it. The handkerchief was fresh from the laundress, and he put it

in his pocket for use. Taking out the cloak, he gazed proudly at it, held it up with both hands, and flung it

skilfully over the shoulders of Akakiy Akakievitch. Then he pulled it and fitted it down behind with his hand,

and he draped it around Akakiy Akakievitch without buttoning it. Akakiy Akakievitch, like an experienced

man, wished to try the sleeves. Petrovitch helped him on with them, and it turned out that the sleeves were

satisfactory also. In short, the cloak appeared to be perfect, and most seasonable. Petrovitch did not neglect to

observe that it was only because he lived in a narrow street, and had no signboard, and had known Akakiy

Akakievitch so long, that he had made it so cheaply; but that if he had been in business on the Nevsky

Prospect, he would have charged seventyfive rubles for the making alone. Akakiy Akakievitch did not care

to argue this point with Petrovitch. He paid him, thanked him, and set out at once in his new cloak for the

department. Petrovitch followed him, and, pausing in the street, gazed long at the cloak in the distance, after

which he went to one side expressly to run through a crooked alley, and emerge again into the street beyond

Meantime Akakiy Akakievitch went on in holiday mood. He was conscious every second of the time that he

had a new cloak on his shoulders; and several times he laughed with internal satisfaction. In fact, there were

two advantages, one was its warmth, the other its beauty. He saw nothing of the road, but suddenly found

himself at the department. He took off his cloak in the anteroom, looked it over carefully, and confided it to

the especial care of the attendant. It is impossible to say precisely how it was that every one in the department

knew at once that Akakiy Akakievitch had a new cloak, and that the "cape" no longer existed. All rushed at

the same moment into the anteroom to inspect it. They congratulated him and said pleasant things to him, so

that he began at first to smile and then to grow ashamed. When all surrounded him, and said that the new

cloak must be "christened," and that he must give a whole evening at least to this, Akakiy Akakievitch lost

his head completely, and did not know where he stood, what to answer, or how to get out of it. He stood

blushing all over for several minutes, and was on the point of assuring them with great simplicity that it was

At length one of the officials, a subchief probably, in order to show that he was not at all proud, and on

good terms with his inferiors, said, "So be it, only I will give the party instead of Akakiy Akakievitch; I invite

you all to tea with me tonight; it happens quite a propos, as it is my nameday." The officials naturally at

once offered the subchief their congratulations and accepted the invitations with pleasure. Akakiy

Akakievitch would have declined, but all declared that it was discourteous, that it was simply a sin and a

shame, and that he could not possibly refuse. Besides, the notion became pleasant to him when he recollected

that he should thereby have a chance of wearing his new cloak in the evening also.

That whole day was truly a most triumphant festival day for Akakiy Akakievitch. He returned home in the

most happy frame of mind, took off his cloak, and hung it carefully on the wall, admiring afresh the cloth and

the lining. Then he brought out his old, wornout cloak, for comparison. He looked at it and laughed, so vast

was the difference. And long after dinner he laughed again when the condition of the "cape" recurred to his

mind. He dined cheerfully, and after dinner wrote nothing, but took his ease for a while on the bed, until it got

dark. Then he dressed himself leisurely, put on his cloak, and stepped out into the street. Where the host

lived, unfortunately we cannot say: our memory begins to fail us badly; and the houses and streets in St.

Petersburg have become so mixed up in our head that it is very difficult to get anything out of it again in

proper form. This much is certain, that the official lived in the best part of the city; and therefore it must have

been anything but near to Akakiy Akakievitch's residence. Akakiy Akakievitch was first obliged to traverse a

kind of wilderness of deserted, dimlylighted streets; but in proportion as he approached the official's quarter

of the city, the streets became more lively, more populous, and more brilliantly illuminated. Pedestrians

began to appear; handsomely dressed ladies were more frequently encountered; the men had otter skin collars

to their coats; peasant waggoners, with their gratelike sledges stuck over with brassheaded nails, became

rarer; whilst on the other hand, more and more drivers in red velvet caps, lacquered sledges and bearskin

coats began to appear, and carriages with rich hammercloths flew swiftly through the streets, their wheels

scrunching the snow. Akakiy Akakievitch gazed upon all this as upon a novel sight. He had not been in the

streets during the evening for years. He halted out of curiosity before a shopwindow to look at a picture

representing a handsome woman, who had thrown off her shoe, thereby baring her whole foot in a very pretty

way; whilst behind her the head of a man with whiskers and a handsome moustache peeped through the

doorway of another room. Akakiy Akakievitch shook his head and laughed, and then went on his way. Why

did he laugh? Either because he had met with a thing utterly unknown, but for which every one cherishes,

nevertheless, some sort of feeling; or else he thought, like many officials, as follows: "Well, those French!

What is to be said? If they do go in anything of that sort, why" But possibly he did not think at all.

Akakiy Akakievitch at length reached the house in which the subchief lodged. The subchief lived in fine

style: the staircase was lit by a lamp; his apartment being on the second floor. On entering the vestibule,

Akakiy Akakievitch beheld a whole row of goloshes on the floor. Among them, in the centre of the room,

stood a samovar or teaurn, humming and emitting clouds of steam. On the walls hung all sorts of coats and

cloaks, among which there were even some with beaver collars or velvet facings. Beyond, the buzz of

conversation was audible, and became clear and loud when the servant came out with a trayful of empty

glasses, creamjugs, and sugarbowls. It was evident that the officials had arrived long before, and had

Akakiy Akakievitch, having hung up his own cloak, entered the inner room. Before him all at once appeared

lights, officials, pipes, and cardtables; and he was bewildered by the sound of rapid conversation rising from

all the tables, and the noise of moving chairs. He halted very awkwardly in the middle of the room,

wondering what he ought to do. But they had seen him. They received him with a shout, and all thronged at

once into the anteroom, and there took another look at his cloak. Akakiy Akakievitch, although somewhat

confused, was frankhearted, and could not refrain from rejoicing when he saw how they praised his cloak.

Then, of course, they all dropped him and his cloak, and returned, as was proper, to the tables set out for

All this, the noise, the talk, and the throng of people was rather overwhelming to Akakiy Akakievitch. He

simply did not know where he stood, or where to put his hands, his feet, and his whole body. Finally he sat

down by the players, looked at the cards, gazed at the face of one and another, and after a while began to

gape, and to feel that it was wearisome, the more so as the hour was already long past when he usually went

to bed. He wanted to take leave of the host; but they would not let him go, saying that he must not fail to

drink a glass of champagne in honour of his new garment. In the course of an hour, supper, consisting of

vegetable salad, cold veal, pastry, confectioner's pies, and champagne, was served. They made Akakiy

Akakievitch drink two glasses of champagne, after which he felt things grow livelier.

Still, he could not forget that it was twelve o'clock, and that he should have been at home long ago. In order

that the host might not think of some excuse for detaining him, he stole out of the room quickly, sought out,

in the anteroom, his cloak, which, to his sorrow, he found lying on the floor, brushed it, picked off every

In the street all was still bright. Some petty shops, those permanent clubs of servants and all sorts of folk,

were open. Others were shut, but, nevertheless, showed a streak of light the whole length of the doorcrack,

indicating that they were not yet free of company, and that probably some domestics, male and female, were

finishing their stories and conversations whilst leaving their masters in complete ignorance as to their

whereabouts. Akakiy Akakievitch went on in a happy frame of mind: he even started to run, without knowing

why, after some lady, who flew past like a flash of lightning. But he stopped short, and went on very quietly

as before, wondering why he had quickened his pace. Soon there spread before him those deserted streets,

which are not cheerful in the daytime, to say nothing of the evening. Now they were even more dim and

lonely: the lanterns began to grow rarer, oil, evidently, had been less liberally supplied. Then came wooden

houses and fences: not a soul anywhere; only the snow sparkled in the streets, and mournfully veiled the

lowroofed cabins with their closed shutters. He approached the spot where the street crossed a vast square

with houses barely visible on its farther side, a square which seemed a fearful desert.

Afar, a tiny spark glimmered from some watchman's box, which seemed to stand on the edge of the world.

Akakiy Akakievitch's cheerfulness diminished at this point in a marked degree. He entered the square, not

without an involuntary sensation of fear, as though his heart warned him of some evil. He glanced back and

on both sides, it was like a sea about him. "No, it is better not to look," he thought, and went on, closing his

eyes. When he opened them, to see whether he was near the end of the square, he suddenly beheld, standing

just before his very nose, some bearded individuals of precisely what sort he could not make out. All grew

"But, of course, the cloak is mine!" said one of them in a loud voice, seizing hold of his collar. Akakiy

Akakievitch was about to shout "watch," when the second man thrust a fist, about the size of a man's head,

Akakiy Akakievitch felt them strip off his cloak and give him a push with a knee: he fell headlong upon the

snow, and felt no more. In a few minutes he recovered consciousness and rose to his feet; but no one was

there. He felt that it was cold in the square, and that his cloak was gone; he began to shout, but his voice did

not appear to reach to the outskirts of the square. In despair, but without ceasing to shout, he started at a run

across the square, straight towards the watchbox, beside which stood the watchman, leaning on his halberd,

and apparently curious to know what kind of a customer was running towards him and shouting. Akakiy

Akakievitch ran up to him, and began in a sobbing voice to shout that he was asleep, and attended to nothing,

and did not see when a man was robbed. The watchman replied that he had seen two men stop him in the

middle of the square, but supposed that they were friends of his; and that, instead of scolding vainly, he had

better go to the police on the morrow, so that they might make a search for whoever had stolen the cloak.

Akakiy Akakievitch ran home in complete disorder; his hair, which grew very thinly upon his temples and

the back of his head, wholly disordered; his body, arms, and legs covered with snow. The old woman, who

was mistress of his lodgings, on hearing a terrible knocking, sprang hastily from her bed, and, with only one

shoe on, ran to open the door, pressing the sleeve of her chemise to her bosom out of modesty; but when she

had opened it, she fell back on beholding Akakiy Akakievitch in such a state. When he told her about the

affair, she clasped her hands, and said that he must go straight to the district chief of police, for his

subordinate would turn up his nose, promise well, and drop the matter there. The very best thing to do,

therefore, would be to go to the district chief, whom she knew, because Finnish Anna, her former cook, was

now nurse at his house. She often saw him passing the house; and he was at church every Sunday, praying,

but at the same time gazing cheerfully at everybody; so that he must be a good man, judging from all

appearances. Having listened to this opinion, Akakiy Akakievitch betook himself sadly to his room; and how

he spent the night there any one who can put himself in another's place may readily imagine.

Early in the morning, he presented himself at the district chief's; but was told that this official was asleep. He

went again at ten and was again informed that he was asleep; at eleven, and they said: "The superintendent is

not at home;" at dinner time, and the clerks in the anteroom would not admit him on any terms, and insisted

upon knowing his business. So that at last, for once in his life, Akakiy Akakievitch felt an inclination to show

some spirit, and said curtly that he must see the chief in person; that they ought not to presume to refuse him

entrance; that he came from the department of justice, and that when he complained of them, they would see.

The clerks dared make no reply to this, and one of them went to call the chief, who listened to the strange

story of the theft of the coat. Instead of directing his attention to the principal points of the matter, he began to

question Akakiy Akakievitch: Why was he going home so late? Was he in the habit of doing so, or had he

been to some disorderly house? So that Akakiy Akakievitch got thoroughly confused, and left him without

All that day, for the first time in his life, he never went near the department. The next day he made his

appearance, very pale, and in his old cape, which had become even more shabby. The news of the robbery of

the cloak touched many; although there were some officials present who never lost an opportunity, even such

a one as the present, of ridiculing Akakiy Akakievitch. They decided to make a collection for him on the spot,

but the officials had already spent a great deal in subscribing for the director's portrait, and for some book, at

the suggestion of the head of that division, who was a friend of the author; and so the sum was trifling.

One of them, moved by pity, resolved to help Akakiy Akakievitch with some good advice at least, and told

him that he ought not to go to the police, for although it might happen that a policeofficer, wishing to win

the approval of his superiors, might hunt up the cloak by some means, still his cloak would remain in the

possession of the police if he did not offer legal proof that it belonged to him. The best thing for him,

therefore, would be to apply to a certain prominent personage; since this prominent personage, by entering

As there was nothing else to be done, Akakiy Akakievitch decided to go to the prominent personage. What

was the exact official position of the prominent personage remains unknown to this day. The reader must

know that the prominent personage had but recently become a prominent personage, having up to that time

been only an insignificant person. Moreover, his present position was not considered prominent in

comparison with others still more so. But there is always a circle of people to whom what is insignificant in

the eyes of others, is important enough. Moreover, he strove to increase his importance by sundry devices; for

instance, he managed to have the inferior officials meet him on the staircase when he entered upon his

service; no one was to presume to come directly to him, but the strictest etiquette must be observed; the

collegiate recorder must make a report to the government secretary, the government secretary to the titular

councillor, or whatever other man was proper, and all business must come before him in this manner. In Holy

Russia all is thus contaminated with the love of imitation; every man imitates and copies his superior. They

even say that a certain titular councillor, when promoted to the head of some small separate room,

immediately partitioned off a private room for himself, called it the audience chamber, and posted at the door

a lackey with red collar and braid, who grasped the handle of the door and opened to all comers; though the

The manners and customs of the prominent personage were grand and imposing, but rather exaggerated. The

main foundation of his system was strictness. "Strictness, strictness, and always strictness!" he generally said;

and at the last word he looked significantly into the face of the person to whom he spoke. But there was no

necessity for this, for the halfscore of subordinates who formed the entire force of the office were properly

afraid; on catching sight of him afar off they left their work and waited, drawn up in line, until he had passed

through the room. His ordinary converse with his inferiors smacked of sternness, and consisted chiefly of

three phrases: "How dare you?" "Do you know whom you are speaking to?" "Do you realise who stands

Otherwise he was a very kindhearted man, good to his comrades, and ready to oblige; but the rank of

general threw him completely off his balance. On receiving any one of that rank, he became confused, lost his

way, as it were, and never knew what to do. If he chanced to be amongst his equals he was still a very nice

kind of man, a very good fellow in many respects, and not stupid; but the very moment that he found himself

in the society of people but one rank lower than himself he became silent; and his situation aroused

sympathy, the more so as he felt himself that he might have been making an incomparably better use of his

time. In his eyes there was sometimes visible a desire to join some interesting conversation or group; but he

was kept back by the thought, "Would it not be a very great condescension on his part? Would it not be

familiar? and would he not thereby lose his importance?" And in consequence of such reflections he always

remained in the same dumb state, uttering from time to time a few monosyllabic sounds, and thereby earning

To this prominent personage Akakiy Akakievitch presented himself, and this at the most unfavourable time

for himself though opportune for the prominent personage. The prominent personage was in his cabinet

conversing gaily with an old acquaintance and companion of his childhood whom he had not seen for several

years and who had just arrived when it was announced to him that a person named Bashmatchkin had come.

He asked abruptly, "Who is he?""Some official," he was informed. "Ah, he can wait! this is no time for

It must be remarked here that the important man lied outrageously: he had said all he had to say to his friend

long before; and the conversation had been interspersed for some time with very long pauses, during which

they merely slapped each other on the leg, and said, "You think so, Ivan Abramovitch!" "Just so, Stepan

Varlamitch!" Nevertheless, he ordered that the official should be kept waiting, in order to show his friend, a

man who had not been in the service for a long time, but had lived at home in the country, how long officials

At length, having talked himself completely out, and more than that, having had his fill of pauses, and

smoked a cigar in a very comfortable armchair with reclining back, he suddenly seemed to recollect, and

said to the secretary, who stood by the door with papers of reports, "So it seems that there is a tchinovnik

waiting to see me. Tell him that he may come in." On perceiving Akakiy Akakievitch's modest mien and his

worn undress uniform, he turned abruptly to him and said, "What do you want?" in a curt hard voice, which

he had practised in his room in private, and before the lookingglass, for a whole week before being raised to

Akakiy Akakievitch, who was already imbued with a due amount of fear, became somewhat confused: and as

well as his tongue would permit, explained, with a rather more frequent addition than usual of the word

"that," that his cloak was quite new, and had been stolen in the most inhuman manner; that he had applied to

him in order that he might, in some way, by his intermediationthat he might enter into correspondence

For some inexplicable reason this conduct seemed familiar to the prominent personage. "What, my dear sir!"

he said abruptly, "are you not acquainted with etiquette? Where have you come from? Don't you know how

such matters are managed? You should first have entered a complaint about this at the court below: it would

have gone to the head of the department, then to the chief of the division, then it would have been handed

"But, your excellency," said Akakiy Akakievitch, trying to collect his small handful of wits, and conscious at

the same time that he was perspiring terribly, "I, your excellency, presumed to trouble you because

"What, what, what!" said the important personage. "Where did you get such courage? Where did you get such

ideas? What impudence towards their chiefs and superiors has spread among the young generation!" The

prominent personage apparently had not observed that Akakiy Akakievitch was already in the neighbourhood

of fifty. If he could be called a young man, it must have been in comparison with some one who was twenty.

"Do you know to whom you speak? Do you realise who stands before you? Do you realise it? do you realise

it? I ask you!" Then he stamped his foot and raised his voice to such a pitch that it would have frightened

Akakiy Akakievitch's senses failed him; he staggered, trembled in every limb, and, if the porters had not run

to support him, would have fallen to the floor. They carried him out insensible. But the prominent personage,

gratified that the effect should have surpassed his expectations, and quite intoxicated with the thought that his

word could even deprive a man of his senses, glanced sideways at his friend in order to see how he looked

upon this, and perceived, not without satisfaction, that his friend was in a most uneasy frame of mind, and

Akakiy Akakievitch could not remember how he descended the stairs and got into the street. He felt neither

his hands nor feet. Never in his life had he been so rated by any high official, let alone a strange one. He went

staggering on through the snowstorm, which was blowing in the streets, with his mouth wide open; the

wind, in St. Petersburg fashion, darted upon him from all quarters, and down every crossstreet. In a

twinkling it had blown a quinsy into his throat, and he reached home unable to utter a word. His throat was

The next day a violent fever showed itself. Thanks to the generous assistance of the St. Petersburg climate,

the malady progressed more rapidly than could have been expected: and when the doctor arrived, he found,

on feeling the sick man's pulse, that there was nothing to be done, except to prescribe a fomentation, so that

the patient might not be left entirely without the beneficent aid of medicine; but at the same time, he

predicted his end in thirtysix hours. After this he turned to the landlady, and said, "And as for you, don't

waste your time on him: order his pine coffin now, for an oak one will be too expensive for him." Did Akakiy

Akakievitch hear these fatal words? and if he heard them, did they produce any overwhelming effect upon

him? Did he lament the bitterness of his life?We know not, for he continued in a delirious condition.

Visions incessantly appeared to him, each stranger than the other. Now he saw Petrovitch, and ordered him to

make a cloak, with some traps for robbers, who seemed to him to be always under the bed; and cried every

moment to the landlady to pull one of them from under his coverlet. Then he inquired why his old mantle

hung before him when he had a new cloak. Next he fancied that he was standing before the prominent person,

listening to a thorough settingdown, and saying, "Forgive me, your excellency!" but at last he began to

curse, uttering the most horrible words, so that his aged landlady crossed herself, never in her life having

heard anything of the kind from him, the more so as those words followed directly after the words "your

excellency." Later on he talked utter nonsense, of which nothing could be made: all that was evident being,

At length poor Akakiy Akakievitch breathed his last. They sealed up neither his room nor his effects,

because, in the first place, there were no heirs, and, in the second, there was very little to inherit beyond a

bundle of goosequills, a quire of white official paper, three pairs of socks, two or three buttons which had

burst off his trousers, and the mantle already known to the reader. To whom all this fell, God knows. I

confess that the person who told me this tale took no interest in the matter. They carried Akakiy Akakievitch

And St. Petersburg was left without Akakiy Akakievitch, as though he had never lived there. A being

disappeared who was protected by none, dear to none, interesting to none, and who never even attracted to

himself the attention of those students of human nature who omit no opportunity of thrusting a pin through a

common fly, and examining it under the microscope. A being who bore meekly the jibes of the department,

and went to his grave without having done one unusual deed, but to whom, nevertheless, at the close of his

life appeared a bright visitant in the form of a cloak, which momentarily cheered his poor life, and upon

whom, thereafter, an intolerable misfortune descended, just as it descends upon the mighty of this world!

Several days after his death, the porter was sent from the department to his lodgings, with an order for him to

present himself there immediately; the chief commanding it. But the porter had to return unsuccessful, with

the answer that he could not come; and to the question, "Why?" replied, "Well, because he is dead! he was

buried four days ago." In this manner did they hear of Akakiy Akakievitch's death at the department, and the

next day a new official sat in his place, with a handwriting by no means so upright, but more inclined and

But who could have imagined that this was not really the end of Akakiy Akakievitch, that he was destined to

raise a commotion after death, as if in compensation for his utterly insignificant life? But so it happened, and

A rumour suddenly spread through St. Petersburg that a dead man had taken to appearing on the Kalinkin

Bridge and its vicinity at night in the form of a tchinovnik seeking a stolen cloak, and that, under the pretext

of its being the stolen cloak, he dragged, without regard to rank or calling, every one's cloak from his

shoulders, be it catskin, beaver, fox, bear, sable; in a word, every sort of fur and skin which men adopted for

their covering. One of the department officials saw the dead man with his own eyes and immediately

recognised in him Akakiy Akakievitch. This, however, inspired him with such terror that he ran off with all

his might, and therefore did not scan the dead man closely, but only saw how the latter threatened him from

afar with his finger. Constant complaints poured in from all quarters that the backs and shoulders, not only of

titular but even of court councillors, were exposed to the danger of a cold on account of the frequent dragging

Arrangements were made by the police to catch the corpse, alive or dead, at any cost, and punish him as an

example to others in the most severe manner. In this they nearly succeeded; for a watchman, on guard in

Kirushkin Alley, caught the corpse by the collar on the very scene of his evil deeds, when attempting to pull

off the frieze coat of a retired musician. Having seized him by the collar, he summoned, with a shout, two of

his comrades, whom he enjoined to hold him fast while he himself felt for a moment in his boot, in order to

draw out his snuffbox and refresh his frozen nose. But the snuff was of a sort which even a corpse could not

endure. The watchman having closed his right nostril with his finger, had no sooner succeeded in holding half

a handful up to the left than the corpse sneezed so violently that he completely filled the eyes of all three.

While they raised their hands to wipe them, the dead man vanished completely, so that they positively did not

know whether they had actually had him in their grip at all. Thereafter the watchmen conceived such a terror

of dead men that they were afraid even to seize the living, and only screamed from a distance, "Hey, there! go

your way!" So the dead tchinovnik began to appear even beyond the Kalinkin Bridge, causing no little terror

But we have totally neglected that certain prominent personage who may really be considered as the cause of

the fantastic turn taken by this true history. First of all, justice compels us to say that after the departure of

poor, annihilated Akakiy Akakievitch he felt something like remorse. Suffering was unpleasant to him, for

his heart was accessible to many good impulses, in spite of the fact that his rank often prevented his showing

his true self. As soon as his friend had left his cabinet, he began to think about poor Akakiy Akakievitch. And

from that day forth, poor Akakiy Akakievitch, who could not bear up under an official reprimand, recurred to

his mind almost every day. The thought troubled him to such an extent that a week later he even resolved to

send an official to him, to learn whether he really could assist him; and when it was reported to him that

Akakiy Akakievitch had died suddenly of fever, he was startled, hearkened to the reproaches of his

Wishing to divert his mind in some way, and drive away the disagreeable impression, he set out that evening

for one of his friends' houses, where he found quite a large party assembled. What was better, nearly every

one was of the same rank as himself, so that he need not feel in the least constrained. This had a marvellous

effect upon his mental state. He grew expansive, made himself agreeable in conversation, in short, he passed

a delightful evening. After supper he drank a couple of glasses of champagnenot a bad recipe for

cheerfulness, as every one knows. The champagne inclined him to various adventures; and he determined not

to return home, but to go and see a certain wellknown lady of German extraction, Karolina Ivanovna, a lady,

It must be mentioned that the prominent personage was no longer a young man, but a good husband and

respected father of a family. Two sons, one of whom was already in the service, and a goodlooking,

sixteenyearold daughter, with a rather retrousse but pretty little nose, came every morning to kiss his hand

and say, "Bonjour, papa." His wife, a still fresh and goodlooking woman, first gave him her hand to kiss,

and then, reversing the procedure, kissed his. But the prominent personage, though perfectly satisfied in his

domestic relations, considered it stylish to have a friend in another quarter of the city. This friend was

scarcely prettier or younger than his wife; but there are such puzzles in the world, and it is not our place to

judge them. So the important personage descended the stairs, stepped into his sledge, said to the coachman,

"To Karolina Ivanovna's," and, wrapping himself luxuriously in his warm cloak, found himself in that

delightful frame of mind than which a Russian can conceive no better, namely, when you think of nothing

yourself, yet when the thoughts creep into your mind of their own accord, each more agreeable than the other,

giving you no trouble either to drive them away or seek them. Fully satisfied, he recalled all the gay features

of the evening just passed, and all the mots which had made the little circle laugh. Many of them he repeated

in a low voice, and found them quite as funny as before; so it is not surprising that he should laugh heartily at

them. Occasionally, however, he was interrupted by gusts of wind, which, coming suddenly, God knows

whence or why, cut his face, drove masses of snow into it, filled out his cloakcollar like a sail, or suddenly

blew it over his head with supernatural force, and thus caused him constant trouble to disentangle himself.

Suddenly the important personage felt some one clutch him firmly by the collar. Turning round, he perceived

a man of short stature, in an old, worn uniform, and recognised, not without terror, Akakiy Akakievitch. The

official's face was white as snow, and looked just like a corpse's. But the horror of the important personage

transcended all bounds when he saw the dead man's mouth open, and, with a terrible odour of the grave, gave

vent to the following remarks: "Ah, here you are at last! I have you, thatby the collar! I need your cloak;

The pallid prominent personage almost died of fright. Brave as he was in the office and in the presence of

inferiors generally, and although, at the sight of his manly form and appearance, every one said, "Ugh! how

much character he had!" at this crisis, he, like many possessed of an heroic exterior, experienced such terror,

that, not without cause, he began to fear an attack of illness. He flung his cloak hastily from his shoulders and

shouted to his coachman in an unnatural voice, "Home at full speed!" The coachman, hearing the tone which

is generally employed at critical moments and even accompanied by something much more tangible, drew his

head down between his shoulders in case of an emergency, flourished his whip, and flew on like an arrow. In

a little more than six minutes the prominent personage was at the entrance of his own house. Pale, thoroughly

scared, and cloakless, he went home instead of to Karolina Ivanovna's, reached his room somehow or other,

and passed the night in the direst distress; so that the next morning over their tea his daughter said, "You are

very pale today, papa." But papa remained silent, and said not a word to any one of what had happened to

This occurrence made a deep impression upon him. He even began to say: "How dare you? do you realise

who stands before you?" less frequently to the underofficials, and if he did utter the words, it was only after

having first learned the bearings of the matter. But the most noteworthy point was, that from that day forward

the apparition of the dead tchinovnik ceased to be seen. Evidently the prominent personage's cloak just fitted

his shoulders; at all events, no more instances of his dragging cloaks from people's shoulders were heard of.

But many active and apprehensive persons could by no means reassure themselves, and asserted that the dead

In fact, one watchman in Kolomna saw with his own eyes the apparition come from behind a house. But

being rather weak of body, he dared not arrest him, but followed him in the dark, until, at length, the

apparition looked round, paused, and inquired, "What do you want?" at the same time showing a fist such as

is never seen on living men. The watchman said, "It's of no consequence," and turned back instantly. But the

apparition was much too tall, wore huge moustaches, and, directing its steps apparently towards the Obukhoff

A fine pelisse has Ivan Ivanovitch! splendid! And what lambskin! deuce take it, what lambskin! blueblack

with silver lights. I'll forfeit, I know not what, if you find any one else owning such a one. Look at it, for

heaven's sake, especially when he stands talking with any one! look at him sideways: what a pleasure it is!

To describe it is impossible: velvet! silver! fire! Nikolai the Wonderworker, saint of God! why have I not

such a pelisse? He had it made before Agafya Fedosyevna went to Kief. You know Agafya Fedosyevna who

Ivan Ivanovitch is a very handsome man. What a house he has in Mirgorod! Around it on every side is a

balcony on oaken pillars, and on the balcony are benches. Ivan Ivanovitch, when the weather gets too warm,

throws off his pelisse and his remaining upper garments, and sits, in his shirt sleeves, on the balcony to

observe what is going on in the courtyard and the street. What apples and pears he has under his very

windows! You have but to open the window and the branches force themselves through into the room. All

this is in front of the house; but you should see what he has in the garden. What is there not there? Plums,

cherries, every sort of vegetable, sunflowers, cucumbers, melons, peas, a threshingfloor, and even a forge.

A very fine man, Ivan Ivanovitch! He is very fond of melons: they are his favourite food. As soon as he has

dined, and come out on his balcony, in his shirt sleeves, he orders Gapka to bring two melons, and

immediately cuts them himself, collects the seeds in a paper, and begins to eat. Then he orders Gapka to fetch

the inkbottle, and, with his own hand, writes this inscription on the paper of seeds: "These melons were

eaten on such and such a date." If there was a guest present, then it reads, "Such and such a person assisted."

The late judge of Mirgorod always gazed at Ivan Ivanovitch's house with pleasure. The little house is very

pretty. It pleases me because sheds and other little additions are built on to it on all sides; so that, looking at it

from a distance, only roofs are visible, rising one above another, and greatly resembling a plate full of

pancakes, or, better still, fungi growing on the trunk of a tree. Moreover, the roof is all overgrown with

weeds: a willow, an oak, and two appletrees lean their spreading branches against it. Through the trees peep

little windows with carved and whitewashed shutters, which project even into the street.

A very fine man, Ivan Ivanovitch! The commissioner of Poltava knows him too. Dorosh Tarasovitch

Pukhivotchka, when he leaves Khorola, always goes to his house. And when Father Peter, the Protopope who

lives at Koliberdas, invites a few guests, he always says that he knows of no one who so well fulfils all his

How time flies! More than ten years have already passed since he became a widower. He never had any

children. Gapka has children and they run about the courtyard. Ivan Ivanovitch always gives each of them a

Gapka carries the keys of the storerooms and cellars; but the key of the large chest which stands in his

bedroom, and that of the centre storeroom, Ivan Ivanovitch keeps himself; Gapka is a healthy girl, with ruddy

And what a pious man is Ivan Ivanovitch! Every Sunday he dons his pelisse and goes to church. On entering,

he bows on all sides, generally stations himself in the choir, and sings a very good bass. When the service is

over, Ivan Ivanovitch cannot refrain from passing the poor people in review. He probably would not have

cared to undertake this tiresome work if his natural goodness had not urged him to it. "Goodday, beggar!"

he generally said, selecting the most crippled old woman, in the most patched and threadbare garments.

"I come from the farm, sir. 'Tis two days since I have eaten or drunk: my own children drove me out."

"To beg alms, sir, to see whether some one will not give me at least enough for bread."

"How is a hungry person to choose? Anything you please, all is good." Thereupon the old woman generally

"Well, go with God's blessing," said Ivan Ivanovitch. "Why do you stand there? I'm not beating you." And

turning to a second and a third with the same questions, he finally returns home, or goes to drink a little glass

of vodka with his neighbour, Ivan Nikiforovitch, or the judge, or the chief of police.

A very fine man too is Ivan Nikiforovitch. They are such friends as the world never saw. Anton Prokofievitch

Pupopuz, who goes about to this hour in his cinnamoncoloured surtout with blue sleeves and dines every

Sunday with the judge, was in the habit of saying that the Devil himself had bound Ivan Ivanovitch and Ivan

Ivan Nikiforovitch has never married. Although it was reported that he was married it was completely false. I

know Ivan Nikiforovitch very well, and am able to state that he never even had any intention of marrying.

Where do all these scandals originate? In the same way it was rumoured that Ivan Nikiforovitch was born

with a tail! But this invention is so clumsy and at the same time so horrible and indecent that I do not even

consider it necessary to refute it for the benefit of civilised readers, to whom it is doubtless known that only

witches, and very few even of these, have tails. Witches, moreover, belong more to the feminine than to the

In spite of their great friendship, these rare friends are not always agreed between themselves. Their

characters can best be judged by comparing them. Ivan Ivanovitch has the usual gift of speaking in an

extremely pleasant manner. Heavens! How he does speak! The feeling can best be described by comparing it

to that which you experience when some one combs your head or draws his finger softly across your heel.

You listen and listen until you drop your head. Pleasant, exceedingly pleasant! like the sleep after a bath. Ivan

Nikiforovitch, on the contrary, is more reticent; but if he once takes up his parable, look out for yourself! He

Ivan Ivanovitch is tall and thin: Ivan Nikiforovitch is rather shorter in stature, but he makes it up in thickness.

Ivan Ivanovitch's head is like a radish, tail down; Ivan Nikiforovitch's like a radish with the tail up. Ivan

Ivanovitch lolls on the balcony in his shirt sleeves after dinner only: in the evening he dons his pelisse and

goes out somewhere, either to the village shop, where he supplies flour, or into the fields to catch quail. Ivan

Nikiforovitch lies all day at his porch: if the day is not too hot he generally turns his back to the sun and will

not go anywhere. If it happens to occur to him in the morning he walks through the yard, inspects the

domestic affairs, and retires again to his room. In early days he used to call on Ivan Ivanovitch. Ivan

Ivanovitch is a very refined man, and never utters an impolite word. Ivan Nikiforovitch is not always on his

guard. On such occasions Ivan Ivanovitch usually rises from his seat, and says, "Enough, enough, Ivan

Ivan Ivanovitch gets into a terrible rage if a fly falls into his beetsoup. Then he is fairly beside himself; he

flings away his plate and the housekeeper catches it. Ivan Nikiforovitch is very fond of bathing; and when he

gets up to the neck in water, orders a table and a samovar, or tea urn, to be placed on the water, for he is very

fond of drinking tea in that cool position. Ivan Ivanovitch shaves twice a week; Ivan Nikiforovitch once. Ivan

Ivanovitch is extremely curious. God preserve you if you begin to tell him anything and do not finish it! If he

is displeased with anything he lets it be seen at once. It is very hard to tell from Ivan Nikiforovitch's

countenance whether he is pleased or angry; even if he is rejoiced at anything, he will not show it. Ivan

Ivanovitch is of a rather timid character: Ivan Nikiforovitch, on the contrary, has, as the saying is, such full

folds in his trousers that if you were to inflate them you might put the courtyard, with its storehouses and

Ivan Ivanovitch has large, expressive eyes, of a snuff colour, and a mouth shaped something like the letter V;

Ivan Nikiforovitch has small, yellowish eyes, quite concealed between heavy brows and fat cheeks; and his

nose is the shape of a ripe plum. If Ivanovitch treats you to snuff, he always licks the cover of his box first

with his tongue, then taps on it with his finger and says, as he raises it, if you are an acquaintance, "Dare I

beg you, sir, to give me the pleasure?" if a stranger, "Dare I beg you, sir, though I have not the honour of

knowing your rank, name, and family, to do me the favour?" but Ivan Nikiforovitch puts his box straight into

your hand and merely adds, "Do me the favour." Neither Ivan Ivanovitch nor Ivan Nikiforovitch loves fleas;

and therefore, neither Ivan Ivanovitch nor Ivan Nikiforovitch will, on no account, admit a Jew with his wares,

without purchasing of him remedies against these insects, after having first rated him well for belonging to

But in spite of numerous dissimilarities, Ivan Ivanovitch and Ivan Nikiforovitch are both very fine fellows.

One morningit was in JulyIvan Ivanovitch was lying on his balcony. The day was warm; the air was

dry, and came in gusts. Ivan Ivanovitch had been to town, to the mower's, and at the farm, and had succeeded

in asking all the muzhiks and women whom he met all manner of questions. He was fearfully tired and had

laid down to rest. As he lay there, he looked at the storehouse, the courtyard, the sheds, the chickens running

about, and thought to himself, "Heavens! What a welltodo man I am! What is there that I have not? Birds,

buildings, granaries, everything I take a fancy to; genuine distilled vodka; pears and plums in the orchard;

poppies, cabbages, peas in the garden; what is there that I have not? I should like to know what there is that I

As he put this question to himself, Ivan Ivanovitch reflected; and meantime his eyes, in their search after

fresh objects, crossed the fence into Ivan Nikiforovitch's yard and involuntarily took note of a curious sight.

A fat woman was bringing out clothes, which had been packed away, and spreading them out on the line to

air. Presently an old uniform with worn trimmings was swinging its sleeves in the air and embracing a

brocade gown; from behind it peeped a courtcoat, with buttons stamped with coatsofarms, and

motheaten collar; and white kersymere pantaloons with spots, which had once upon a time clothed Ivan

Nikiforovitch's legs, and might now possibly fit his fingers. Behind them were speedily hung some more in

the shape of the letter pi. Then came a blue Cossack jacket, which Ivan Nikiforovitch had had made twenty

years before, when he was preparing to enter the militia, and allowed his moustache to grow. And one after

another appeared a sword, projecting into the air like a spit, and the skirts of a grassgreen caftanlike

garment, with copper buttons the size of a fivekopek piece, unfolded themselves. From among the folds

peeped a vest bound with gold, with a wide opening in front. The vest was soon concealed by an old petticoat

belonging to his dead grandmother, with pockets which would have held a watermelon.

All these things piled together formed a very interesting spectacle for Ivan Ivanovitch; while the sun's rays,

falling upon a blue or green sleeve, a red binding, or a scrap of gold brocade, or playing in the point of a

sword, formed an unusual sight, similar to the representations of the Nativity given at farmhouses by

wandering bands; particularly that part where the throng of people, pressing close together, gaze at King

Presently the old woman crawled, grunting, from the storeroom, dragging after her an oldfashioned saddle

with broken stirrups, worn leather holsters, and saddlecloth, once red, with gilt embroidery and copper

"Here's a stupid woman," thought Ivan Ivanovitch. "She'll be dragging Ivan Nikiforovitch out and airing him

Ivan Ivanovitch was not so far wrong in his surmise. Five minutes later, Ivan Nikiforovitch's nankeen trousers

appeared, and took nearly half the yard to themselves. After that she fetched out a hat and a gun. "What's the

meaning of this?" thought Ivan Ivanovitch. "I never knew Ivan Nikiforovitch had a gun. What does he want

with it? Whether he shoots, or not, he keeps a gun! Of what use is it to him? But it's a splendid thing. I have

long wanted just such a one. I should like that gun very much: I like to amuse myself with a gun. Hello, there,

"Who knows what sort of a gun? If it were mine, perhaps I should know what it is made of; but it is my

Ivan Ivanovitch rose, and began to examine the gun on all sides, and forgot to reprove the old woman for

"It's a nice gun!" continued Ivan Ivanovitch. "I will ask him for it. What can he want with it? I'll make an

Ivan Ivanovitch dressed himself, took his wellseasoned stick for the benefit of the dogs, for, in Mirgorod,

Although Ivan Nikiforovitch's house was next door to Ivan Ivanovitch's, so that you could have got from one

to the other by climbing the fence, yet Ivan Ivanovitch went by way of the street. From the street it was

necessary to turn into an alley which was so narrow that if two onehorse carts chanced to meet they could

not get out, and were forced to remain there until the drivers, seizing the hindwheels, dragged them back in

opposite directions into the street, whilst pedestrians drew aside like flowers growing by the fence on either

hand. Ivan Ivanovitch's waggonshed adjoined this alley on one side; and on the other were Ivan

Ivan Ivanovitch went up to the gate and rattled the latch. Within arose the barking of dogs; but the

motleyhaired pack ran back, wagging their tails when they saw the wellknown face. Ivan Ivanovitch

traversed the courtyard, in which were collected Indian doves, fed by Ivan Nikiforovitch's own hand,

melonrinds, vegetables, broken wheels, barrelhoops, and a small boy wallowing with dirty blousea

picture such as painters love. The shadows of the fluttering clothes covered nearly the whole of the yard and

lent it a degree of coolness. The woman greeted him with a bend of her head and stood, gaping, in one spot.

The front of the house was adorned with a small porch, with its roof supported on two oak pillarsa

welcome protection from the sun, which at that season in Little Russia loves not to jest, and bathes the

pedestrian from head to foot in perspiration. It may be judged how powerful Ivan Ivanovitch's desire to obtain

the coveted article was when he made up his mind, at such an hour, to depart from his usual custom, which

The room which Ivan Ivanovitch entered was quite dark, for the shutters were closed; and the ray of sunlight

passing through a hole made in one of them took on the colours of the rainbow, and, striking the opposite

wall, sketched upon it a particoloured picture of the outlines of roofs, trees, and the clothes suspended in the

"Ah! how do you do, Ivan Ivanovitch?" replied a voice from the corner of the room. Then only did Ivan

Ivanovitch perceive Ivan Nikiforovitch lying upon a rug which was spread on the floor. "Excuse me for

"Now I have risen. Christ be with you, Ivan Nikiforovitch! How can you sleep until this time? I have just

come from the farm. There's very fine barley on the road, charming! and the hay is tall and soft and golden!"

"Gorpina!" shouted Ivan Nikiforovitch, "fetch Ivan Ivanovitch some vodka, and some pastry and sour

"Don't praise it, Ivan Ivanovitch! Devil take it! You can't get away from the heat."

"Now, why need you mention the devil! Ah, Ivan Nikiforovitch! you will recall my words when it's too late.

"How have I offended you, Ivan Ivanovitch? I have not attacked your father nor your mother. I don't know

"I don't know why they don't come," said Ivan Ivanovitch, as if he did not hear Ivan Nikiforovitch; "it is more

"So you are having your clothes aired, Ivan Nikiforovitch?" said Ivan Ivanovitch at length.

"Yes; those cursed women have ruined some beautiful clothes; almost new they were too. Now I'm having

them aired; the cloth is fine and good. They only need turning to make them fit to wear again."

"Tell me, please, what use do you make of the gun that has been put to air with the clothes?" Here Ivan

"By no means! take it yourself; I will use my own." Thereupon Ivan Nikiforovitch felt about him, and got

hold of his snuffbox. "That stupid woman! So she hung the gun out to air. That Jew at Sorotchintzi makes

good snuff. I don't know what he puts in it, but it is so very fragrant. It is a little like tansy. Here, take a little

"Ivan Nikiforovitch, I want to talk about that gun; what are you going to do with it? You don't need it."

"God be with you, Ivan Nikiforovitch! When will you go shooting? At the millennium, perhaps? So far as I

know, or any one can recollect, you never killed even a duck; yes, and you are not built to go shooting. You

have a dignified bearing and figure; how are you to drag yourself about the marshes, especially when your

garment, which it is not polite to mention in conversation by name, is being aired at this very moment? No;

you require rest, repose." Ivan Ivanovitch as has been hinted at above, employed uncommonly picturesque

language when it was necessary to persuade any one. How he talked! Heavens, how he could talk! "Yes, and

"The idea! The gun is valuable; you can't find such guns anywhere nowadays. I bought it of a Turk when I

joined the militia; and now, to give it away all of a sudden! Impossible! It is an indispensable article."

"For what? What if robbers should attack the house? . . . Indispensable indeed! Glory to God! I know that a

"What do you mean by ruined? It can be set right; all that needs to be done is to rub it with hempoil, so that

"I see in your words, Ivan Nikiforovitch, anything but a friendly disposition towards me. You will do nothing

"How can you say, Ivan Ivanovitch, that I show you no friendship? You ought to be ashamed of yourself.

Your oxen pasture on my steppes and I have never interfered with them. When you go to Poltava, you always

ask for my waggon, and what then? Have I ever refused? Your children climb over the fence into my yard

and play with my dogsI never say anything; let them play, so long as they touch nothing; let them play!"

"What will you give me for it?" Thereupon Ivan Nikiforovitch raised himself on his elbow, and looked at

"I will give you my darkbrown sow, the one I have fed in the sty. A magnificent sow. You'll see, she'll bring

"I do not see, Ivan Ivanovitch, how you can talk so. What could I do with your sow? Make a funeral dinner

"Again! You can't get along without the devil! It's a sin! by Heaven, it's a sin, Ivan Nikiforovitch!"

"What do you mean, Ivan Ivanovitch, by offering the deuce knows what kind of a sow for my gun?"

"Why? You can judge for yourself perfectly well; here's the gun, a known thing; but the deuce knows what

that sow is like! If it had not been you who said it, Ivan Ivanovitch, I might have put an insulting construction

"Sit down, sit down! I won't No matter about your gun; let it rot and rust where it stands in the corner of

"They say," began Ivan Ivanovitch, "that three kings have declared war against our Tzar."

"I cannot say exactly, Ivan Nikiforovitch, what the cause is. I suppose the kings want us to adopt the Turkish

"So, you see, our Tzar has declared war on them in consequence. 'No,' says he, 'do you adopt the faith of

"It's a strange thing to me, Ivan Ivanovitch, that you, who seem to be a man distinguished for sense, should

Ivan Ivanovitch drank a glass and ate a pie with sour cream. "Listen, Ivan Nikiforovitch: I will give you,

besides the sow, two sacks of oats. You did not sow any oats. You'll have to buy some this year in any case."

"By Heaven, Ivan Ivanovitch, I must tell you you are very foolish! Who ever heard of swapping a gun for two

"Oh, get angry now, do! See here; they'll stick your tongue full of redhot needles in the other world for such

godless words. After a conversation with you, one has to wash one's face and hands and fumigate one's self."

"Excuse me, Ivan Ivanovitch; my gun is a choice thing, a most curious thing; and besides, it is a very

"You go on like a fool about that gun of yours, Ivan Nikiforovitch," said Ivan Ivanovitch with vexation; for

If Ivan Nikiforovitch had not uttered that word they would not have quarrelled, but would have parted friends

as usual; but now things took quite another turn. Ivan Ivanovitch flew into a rage.

"How dare you, sir, forgetful of decency and the respect due to a man's rank and family, insult him with such

"What is there disgraceful about it? And why are you flourishing your hands so, Ivan Ivanovitch?"

Ivan Ivanovitch could no longer control himself. His lips quivered; his mouth lost its usual V shape, and

became like the letter O; he glared so that he was terrible to look at. This very rarely happened with Ivan

"Then, I declare to you," exclaimed Ivan Ivanovitch, "that I will no longer know you!"

"A great pity! By Heaven, I shall never weep on that account!" retorted Ivan Nikiforovitch. He lied, by

"Oho, ho!" said Ivan Nikiforovitch, vexed, yet not knowing himself what to do, and rising to his feet,

contrary to his custom. "Hey, there, woman, boy!" Thereupon there appeared at the door the same fat woman

and the small boy, now enveloped in a long and wide coat. "Take Ivan Ivanovitch by the arms and lead him

"What! a nobleman?" shouted Ivan Ivanovitch with a feeling of vexation and dignity. "Just do it if you dare!

Come on! I'll annihilate you and your stupid master. The crows won't be able to find your bones." Ivan

The group presented a striking picture: Ivan Nikiforovitch standing in the middle of the room; the woman

with her mouth wide open and a senseless, terrified look on her face, and Ivan Ivanovitch with uplifted hand,

as the Roman tribunes are depicted. This was a magnificent spectacle: and yet there was but one spectator;

the boy in the ample coat, who stood quite quietly and picked his nose with his finger.

Finally Ivan Ivanovitch took his hat. "You have behaved well, Ivan Nikiforovitch, extremely well! I shall

"Go, Ivan Ivanovitch, go! and see that you don't come in my way: if you do, I'll beat your ugly face to a jelly,

"Take that, Ivan Nikiforovitch!" retorted Ivan Ivanovitch, making an insulting gesture and banged the door,

Ivan Nikiforovitch appeared at it and wanted to add something more; but Ivan Ivanovitch did not glance back

And thus two respectable men, the pride and honour of Mirgorod, had quarrelled, and about what? About a

bit of nonsensea goose. They would not see each other, broke off all connection, though hitherto they had

been known as the most inseparable friends. Every day Ivan Ivanovitch and Ivan Nikiforovitch had sent to

inquire about each other's health, and often conversed together from their balconies and said such charming

things as did the heart good to listen to. On Sundays, Ivan Ivanovitch, in his lambskin pelisse, and Ivan

Nikiforovitch, in his cinnamoncoloured nankeen spencer, used to set out for church almost arm in arm; and

if Ivan Ivanovitch, who had remarkably sharp eyes, was the first to catch sight of a puddle or any dirt in the

street, which sometimes happened in Mirgorod, he always said to Ivan Nikiforovitch, "Look out! don't put

your foot there, it's dirty." Ivan Nikiforovitch, on his side, exhibited the same touching tokens of friendship;

and whenever he chanced to be standing, always held out his hand to Ivan Ivanovitch with his snuffbox,

saying: "Do me the favour!" And what fine managers both were! And these two friends! When I heard

of it, it struck me like a flash of lightning. For a long time I would not believe it. Ivan Ivanovitch quarrelling

with Ivan Nikiforovitch! Such worthy people! What is to be depended upon, then, in this world?

When Ivan Ivanovitch reached home, he remained for some time in a state of strong excitement. He usually

went, first of all, to the stable to see whether his mare was eating her hay; for he had a bay mare with a white

star on her forehead, and a very pretty little mare she was too; then to feed the turkeys and the little pigs with

his own hand, and then to his room, where he either made wooden dishes, for he could make various vessels

of wood very tastefully, quite as well as any turner, or read a book printed by Liubia, Garia, and Popoff (Ivan

Ivanovitch could never remember the name, because the servingmaid had long before torn off the top part of

the titlepage while amusing the children), or rested on the balcony. But now he did not betake himself to

any of his ordinary occupations. Instead, on encountering Gapka, he at once began to scold her for loitering

about without any occupation, though she was carrying groats to the kitchen; flung a stick at a cock which

came upon the balcony for his customary treat; and when the dirty little boy, in his little torn blouse, ran up to

him and shouted: "Papa, papa! give me a honeycake," he threatened him and stamped at him so fiercely that

But at last he bethought himself, and began to busy himself about his everyday duties. He dined late, and it

was almost night when he lay down to rest on the balcony. A good beetsoup with pigeons, which Gapka had

cooked for him, quite drove from his mind the occurrences of the morning. Again Ivan Ivanovitch began to

gaze at his belongings with satisfaction. At length his eye rested on the neighbouring yard; and he said to

himself, "I have not been to Ivan Nikiforovitch's today: I'll go there now." So saying, Ivan Ivanovitch took

his stick and his hat, and directed his steps to the street; but scarcely had he passed through the gate than he

recollected the quarrel, spit, and turned back. Almost the same thing happened at Ivan Nikiforovitch's house.

Ivan Ivanovitch saw the woman put her foot on the fence, with the intention of climbing over into his yard,

when suddenly Ivan Nikiforovitch's voice was heard crying: "Come back! it won't do!" But Ivan Ivanovitch

found it very tiresome. It is quite possible that these worthy men would have made their peace next day if a

certain occurrence in Ivan Nikiforovitch's house had not destroyed all hopes and poured oil upon the fire of

On the evening of that very day, Agafya Fedosyevna arrived at Ivan Nikiforovitch's. Agafya Fedosyevna was

not Ivan Nikiforovitch's relative, nor his sisterinlaw, nor even his fellowgodparent. There seemed to be

no reason why she should come to him, and he was not particularly glad of her company; still, she came, and

lived on him for weeks at a time, and even longer. Then she took possession of the keys and took the

management of the whole house into her own hands. This was extremely displeasing to Ivan Nikiforovitch;

but he, to his amazement, obeyed her like a child; and although he occasionally attempted to dispute, yet

I must confess that I do not understand why things are so arranged, that women should seize us by the nose as

deftly as they do the handle of a teapot. Either their hands are so constructed or else our noses are good for

nothing else. And notwithstanding the fact that Ivan Nikiforovitch's nose somewhat resembled a plum, she

grasped that nose and led him about after her like a dog. He even, in her presence, involuntarily altered his

Agafya Fedosyevna wore a cap on her head, and a coffeecoloured cloak with yellow flowers and had three

warts on her nose. Her figure was like a cask, and it would have been as hard to tell where to look for her

waist as for her to see her nose without a mirror. Her feet were small and shaped like two cushions. She

talked scandal, ate boiled beetsoup in the morning, and swore extremely; and amidst all these various

occupations her countenance never for one instant changed its expression, which phenomenon, as a rule,

"Ivan Nikiforovitch, don't you make peace with him, nor ask his forgiveness; he wants to ruin you; that's the

kind of man he is! you don't know him yet!" That cursed woman whispered and whispered, and managed so

Everything assumed another aspect. If his neighbour's dog ran into the yard, it was beaten within an inch of

its life; the children, who climbed over the fence, were sent back with howls, their little shirts stripped up, and

marks of a switch behind. Even the old woman, when Ivan Ivanovitch ventured to ask her about something,

did something so insulting that Ivan Ivanovitch, being an extremely delicate man, only spit, and muttered,

Finally, as a climax to all the insults, his hated neighbour built a gooseshed right against his fence at the spot

where they usually climbed over, as if with the express intention of redoubling the insult. This shed, so

hateful to Ivan Ivanovitch, was constructed with diabolical swiftnessin one day.

This aroused wrath and a desire for revenge in Ivan Ivanovitch. He showed no signs of bitterness, in spite of

the fact that the shed encroached on his land; but his heart beat so violently that it was extremely difficult for

He passed the day in this manner. Night came Oh, if I were a painter, how magnificently I would depict

the night's charms! I would describe how all Mirgorod sleeps; how steadily the myriads of stars gaze down

upon it; how the apparent quiet is filled far and near with the barking of dogs; how the lovesick sacristan

steals past them, and scales the fence with knightly fearlessness; how the white walls of the houses, bathed in

the moonlight, grow whiter still, the overhanging trees darker; how the shadows of the trees fall blacker, the

flowers and the silent grass become more fragrant, and the crickets, unharmonious cavaliers of the night,

strike up their rattling song in friendly fashion on all sides. I would describe how, in one of the little,

lowroofed, clay houses, the blackbrowed village maid, tossing on her lonely couch, dreams with heaving

bosom of some hussar's spurs and moustache, and how the moonlight smiles upon her cheeks. I would

describe how the black shadows of the bats flit along the white road before they alight upon the white

But it would hardly be within my power to depict Ivan Ivanovitch as he crept out that night, saw in hand; or

the various emotions written on his countenance! Quietly, most quietly, he crawled along and climbed upon

the gooseshed. Ivan Nikiforovitch's dogs knew nothing, as yet, of the quarrel between them; and so they

permitted him, as an old friend, to enter the shed, which rested upon four oaken posts. Creeping up to the

nearest post he applied his saw and began to cut. The noise produced by the saw caused him to glance about

him every moment, but the recollection of the insult restored his courage. The first post was sawed through.

Ivan Ivanovitch began upon the next. His eyes burned and he saw nothing for terror.

All at once he uttered an exclamation and became petrified with fear. A ghost appeared to him; but he

speedily recovered himself on perceiving that it was a goose, thrusting its neck out at him. Ivan Ivanovitch

spit with vexation and proceeded with his work. The second post was sawed through; the building trembled.

His heart beat so violently when he began on the third, that he had to stop several times. The post was more

Ivan Ivanovitch had barely time to spring back when it came down with a crash. Seizing his saw, he ran home

in the greatest terror and flung himself upon his bed, without having sufficient courage to peep from the

window at the consequences of his terrible deed. It seemed to him as though Ivan Nikiforovitch's entire

householdthe old woman, Ivan Nikiforovitch, the boy in the endless coat, all with sticks, and led by

Ivan Ivanovitch passed the whole of the following day in a perfect fever. It seemed to him that his detested

neighbour would set fire to his house at least in revenge for this; and so he gave orders to Gapka to keep a

constant lookout, everywhere, and see whether dry straw were laid against it anywhere. Finally, in order to

forestall Ivan Nikiforovitch, he determined to enter a complaint against him before the district judge of

A wonderful town is Mirgorod! How many buildings are there with straw, rush, and even wooden roofs! On

the right is a street, on the left a street, and fine fences everywhere. Over them twine hopvines, upon them

hang pots; from behind them the sunflowers show their sunlike heads, poppies blush, fat pumpkins peep; all

is luxury itself! The fence is invariably garnished with articles which render it still more picturesque:

woman's widespread undergarments of checked woollen stuff, shirts, or trousers. There is no such thing as

theft or rascality in Mirgorod, so everybody hangs upon his fence whatever strikes his fancy. If you go on to

the square, you will surely stop and admire the view: such a wonderful pool is there! The finest you ever saw.

It occupies nearly the whole of the square. A truly magnificent pool! The houses and cottages, which at a

distance might be mistaken for hayricks, stand around it, lost in admiration of its beauty.

But I agree with those who think that there is no better house than that of the district judge. Whether it is of

oak or birch is nothing to the point; but it has, my dear sirs, eight windows! eight windows in a row, looking

directly on the square and upon that watery expanse which I have just mentioned, and which the chief of

police calls a lake. It alone is painted the colour of granite. All the other houses in Mirgorod are merely

whitewashed. Its roof is of wood, and would have been even painted red, had not the government clerks eaten

the oil which had been prepared for that purpose, as it happened during a fast; and so the roof remained

unpainted. Towards the square projects a porch, which the chickens frequently visit, because that porch is

nearly always strewn with grain or something edible, not intentionally, but through the carelessness of

The house is divided into two parts: one of which is the courtroom; the other the jail. In the half which

contains the courtroom are two neat, whitewashed rooms, the front one for clients, the other having a table

adorned with inkspots, and with a lookingglass upon it, and four oak chairs with tall backs; whilst along

the wall stand ironbound chests, in which are preserved bundles of papers relating to district lawsuits.

The court had been open since morning. The judge, a rather stout man, though thinner than Ivan

Nikiforovitch, with a goodnatured face, a greasy dressinggown, a pipe, and a cup of tea, was conversing

The judge's lips were directly under his nose, so that he could snuff his upper lip as much as he liked. It

served him instead of a snuffbox, for the snuff intended for his nose almost always lodged upon it. So the

judge was talking with the assistant. A barefooted girl stood holding a tray with cups at once side of them. At

the end of the table, the secretary was reading the decision in some case, but in such a mournful and

monotonous voice that the condemned man himself would have fallen asleep while listening to it. The judge,

no doubt, would have been the first to do so had he not entered into an engrossing conversation while it was

"I expressly tried to find out," said the judge, sipping his already cold tea from the cup, "how they manage to

sing so well. I had a splendid thrush two years ago. Well, all of a sudden he was completely done for, and

began to sing, God knows what! He got worse and worse and worse and worse as time went on; he began to

rattle and get hoarsejust good for nothing! And this is how it happened: a little lump, not so big as a pea,

had come under his throat. It was only necessary to prick that little swelling with a needleZachar

Prokofievitch taught me that; and, if you like, I'll just tell you how it was. I went to him"

"Shall I read another, Demyan Demyanovitch?" broke in the secretary, who had not been reading for several

"Have you finished already? Only think how quickly! And I did not hear a word of it! Where is it? Give it me

"Very good; read it! Yes, so I went to himI can even tell you in detail how he entertained me. There was

vodka, and dried sturgeon, excellent! Yes, not our sturgeon," there the judge smacked his tongue and smiled,

upon which his nose took a sniff at its usual snuffbox, "such as our Mirgorod shops sell us. I ate no herrings,

for, as you know, they give me heartburn; but I tasted the caviarevery fine caviare, too! There's no doubt

it, excellent! Then I drank some peachbrandy, real gentian. There was saffronbrandy also; but, as you

know, I never take that. You see, it was all very good. In the first place, to whet your appetite, as they say,

and then to satisfy it Ah! speak of an angel," exclaimed the judge, all at once, catching sight of Ivan

"God be with us! I wish you a goodmorning," said Ivan Ivanovitch, bowing all round with his usual

politeness. How well he understood the art of fascinating everybody in his manner! I never beheld such

refinement. He knew his own worth quite well, and therefore looked for universal respect as his due. The

judge himself handed Ivan Ivanovitch a chair; and his nose inhaled all the snuff resting on his upper lip,

"What will you take, Ivan Ivanovitch?" he inquired: "will you have a cup of tea?"

"No, thank you; much obliged for your hospitality," replied Ivan Ivanovitch, and rose, bowed, and sat down

"No, do not trouble yourself, Demyan Demyanovitch." Whereupon Ivan Ivanovitch again rose, bowed, and

"Very well, then, just a little cup," said Ivan Ivanovitch, and reached out his hand to the tray. Heavens! What

a height of refinement there was in that man! It is impossible to describe what a pleasant impression such

"I thank you sincerely," answered Ivan Ivanovitch, turning his cup upside down upon the tray and bowing.

"No: I am extremely indebted for your hospitality." So saying, Ivan Ivanovitch bowed and seated himself.

Ivan Ivanovitch put his hand out to the tray and took a cup. Oh, the deuce! How can a man contrive to

"Demyan Demyanovitch," said Ivan Ivanovitch, swallowing the last drain, "I have pressing business with

Then Ivan Ivanovitch set down his cup, and drew from his pocket a sheet of stamped paper, written over. "A

At these words, the judge nearly fell off his chair. "What do you say?" he exclaimed, clasping his hands;

"The Lord and all the saints be with you! What! You! Ivan Ivanovitch! you have fallen out with Ivan

Nikiforovitch! Is it your mouth which says that? Repeat it! Is not some one hid behind you who is speaking

"What is there incredible about it? I can't endure the sight of him: he has done me a deadly injuryhe has

"Holy Trinity! How am I to believe my mother now? Why, every day, when I quarrel with my sister, the old

woman says, 'Children, you live together like dogs. If you would only take pattern by Ivan Ivanovitch and

Ivan Nikiforovitch, they are friends indeed! such friends! such worthy people!' There you are with your

"It is a delicate business, Demyan Demyanovitch; it is impossible to relate it in words: be pleased rather to

Taras Tikhonovitch took the plaint; and blowing his nose, as all district judges' secretaries blow their noses,

"From the nobleman and landed proprietor of the Mirgorod District, Ivan Pererepenko, son of Ivan, a plaint:

"1. Ivan Dovgotchkun, son of Nikifor, nobleman, known to all the world for his godless acts, which inspire

disgust, and in lawlessness exceed all bounds, on the seventh day of July of this year 1810, inflicted upon me

a deadly insult, touching my personal honour, and likewise tending to the humiliation and confusion of my

rank and family. The said nobleman, of repulsive aspect, has also a pugnacious disposition, and is full to

Here the reader paused for an instant to blow his nose again; but the judge folded his hands in approbation

Ivan Ivanovitch requested that the reading might proceed, and Taras Tikhonovitch went on:

"The said Ivan Dovgotchkun, son of Nikifor, when I went to him with a friendly proposition, called me

publicly by an epithet insulting and injurious to my honour, namely, a goose, whereas it is known to the

whole district of Mirgorod, that I never was named after that disgusting creature, and have no intention of

ever being named after it. The proof of my noble extraction is that, in the baptismal register to be found in the

Church of the Three Bishops, the day of my birth, and likewise the fact of my baptism, are inscribed. But a

goose, as is well known to every one who has any knowledge of science, cannot be inscribed in the baptismal

have not been to college. But the said evilminded nobleman, being privy to all these facts, affronted me with

the aforesaid foul word, for no other purpose than to offer a deadly insult to my rank and station.

"2. And the same impolite and indecent nobleman, moreover, attempted injury to my property, inherited by

me from my father, a member of the clerical profession, Ivan Pererepenko, son of Onisieff, of blessed

memory, inasmuch that he, contrary to all law, transported directly opposite my porch a gooseshed, which

was done with no other intention that to emphasise the insult offered me; for the said shed had, up to that

time, stood in a very suitable situation, and was still sufficiently strong. But the loathsome intention of the

aforesaid nobleman consisted simply in this: viz., in making me a witness of unpleasant occurrences; for it is

well known that no man goes into a shed, much less into a gooseshed, for polite purposes. In the execution

of his lawless deed, the two front posts trespassed on my land, received by me during the lifetime of my

father, Ivan Pererepenko, son of Onisieff, of blessed memory, beginning at the granary, thence in a straight

"3. The abovedescribed nobleman, whose very name and surname inspire thorough disgust, cherishes in his

mind a malicious design to burn me in my own house. Which the infallible signs, hereinafter mentioned, fully

demonstrate; in the first place, the said wicked nobleman has begun to emerge frequently from his

apartments, which he never did formerly on account of his laziness and the disgusting corpulence of his body;

in the second place, in his servants' apartments, adjoining the fence, surrounding my own land, received by

me from my father of blessed memory, Ivan Pererepenko, son of Onisieff, a light burns every day, and for a

remarkably long period of time, which is also a clear proof of the fact. For hitherto, owing to his repulsive

niggardliness, not only the tallowcandle but also the greaselamp has been extinguished.

"And therefore I pray that the said nobleman, Ivan Dovgotchkun, son of Nikifor, being plainly guilty of

incendiarism, of insult to my rank, name, and family, and of illegal appropriation of my property, and, worse

than all else, of malicious and deliberate addition to my surname, of the nickname of goose, be condemned by

the court, to fine, satisfaction, costs, and damages, and, being chained, be removed to the town jail, and that

"Written and composed by Ivan Pererepenko, son of Ivan, nobleman, and landed proprietor of Mirgorod."

After the reading of the plaint was concluded, the judge approached Ivanovitch, took him by the button, and

began to talk to him after this fashion: "What are you doing, Ivan Ivanovitch? Fear God! throw away that

plaint, let it go! may Satan carry it off! Better take Ivan Nikiforovitch by the hand and kiss him, buy some

Santurinski or Nikopolski liquor, make a punch, and call me in. We will drink it up together and forget all

"No, Demyan Demyanovitch! it's not that sort of an affair," said Ivan Ivanovitch, with the dignity which

always became him so well; "it is not an affair which can be arranged by a friendly agreement. Farewell!

Goodday to you, too, gentlemen," he continued with the same dignity, turning to them all. "I hope that my

plaint will lead to proper action being taken;" and out he went, leaving all present in a state of stupefaction.

The judge sat down without uttering a word; the secretary took a pinch of snuff; the clerks upset some broken

fragments of bottles which served for inkstands; and the judge himself, in absence of mind, spread out a

"What do you say to this, Dorofei Trofimovitch?" said the judge, turning to the assistant after a pause.

"What things do happen!" continued the judge. He had not finished saying this before the door creaked and

the front half of Ivan Nikiforovitch presented itself in the courtroom; the rest of him remaining in the

anteroom. The appearance of Ivan Nikiforovitch, and in court too, seemed so extraordinary that the judge

screamed; the secretary stopped reading; one clerk, in his frieze imitation of a dresscoat, took his pen in his

lips; and the other swallowed a fly. Even the constable on duty and the watchman, a discharged soldier who

up to that moment had stood by the door scratching about his dirty tunic, with chevrons on its arm, dropped

But Ivan Nikiforovitch was neither dead nor alive; for he was stuck fast in the door, and could not take a step

either forwards or backwards. In vain did the judge shout into the anteroom that some one there should push

Ivan Nikiforovitch forward into the courtroom. In the anteroom there was only one old woman with a

petition, who, in spite of all the efforts of her bony hands, could accomplish nothing. Then one of the clerks,

with thick lips, a thick nose, eyes which looked askance and intoxicated, broad shoulders, and ragged elbows,

approached the front half of Ivan Nikiforovitch, crossed his hands for him as though he had been a child, and

winked at the old soldier, who braced his knee against Ivan Nikiforovitch's belly, so, in spite of the latter's

piteous moans, he was squeezed out into the anteroom. Then they pulled the bolts, and opened the other half

of the door. Meanwhile the clerk and his assistant, breathing hard with their friendly exertions, exhaled such a

"Are you hurt, Ivan Nikiforovitch? I will tell my mother to send you a decoction of brandy, with which you

But Ivan Nikiforovitch dropped into a chair, and could utter no word beyond prolonged oh's. Finally, in a

faint and barely audible voice from fatigue, he exclaimed, "Wouldn't you like some?" and drawing his

"Very glad to see you," replied the judge; "but I cannot conceive what made you put yourself to so much

"A complaint . . ." here his asthma entailed a prolonged pause"Oh! a complaint against that rascalIvan

"And you too! Such particular friends! A complaint against such a benevolent man?"

"There is nothing to be done. Read it, Taras Tikhonovitch," said the judge, turning to the secretary with an

expression of displeasure, which caused his nose to sniff at his upper lip, which generally occurred only as a

sign of great enjoyment. This independence on the part of his nose caused the judge still greater vexation. He

pulled out his handkerchief, and rubbed off all the snuff from his upper lip in order to punish it for its daring.

The secretary, having gone through the usual performance, which he always indulged in before he began to

read, that is to say, blowing his nose without the aid of a pockethandkerchief, began in his ordinary voice, in

"Ivan Dovgotchkun, son of Nikifor, nobleman of the Mirgorod District, presents a plaint, and begs to call

"1. Through his hateful malice and plainly manifested illwill, the person calling himself a nobleman, Ivan

Pererepenko, son of Ivan, perpetrates against me every manner of injury, damage, and like spiteful deeds,

which inspire me with terror. Yesterday afternoon, like a brigand and thief, with axes, saws, chisels, and

various locksmith's tools, he came by night into my yard and into my own gooseshed located within it, and

with his own hand, and in outrageous manner, destroyed it; for which very illegal and burglarious deed on my

"2. The same nobleman Pererepenko has designs upon my life; and on the 7th of last month, cherishing this

design in secret, he came to me, and began, in a friendly and insidious manner, to ask of me a gun which was

in my chamber, and offered me for it, with the miserliness peculiar to him, many worthless objects, such as a

brown sow and two sacks of oats. Divining at that time his criminal intentions, I endeavoured in every way to

dissuade him from it: but the said rascal and scoundrel, Ivan Pererepenko, son of Ivan, abused me like a

muzhik, and since that time has cherished against me an irreconcilable enmity. His sister was well known to

every one as a loose character, and went off with a regiment of chasseurs which was stationed at Mirgorod

five years ago; but she inscribed her husband as a peasant. His father and mother too were not lawabiding

people, and both were inconceivable drunkards. The aforementioned nobleman and robber, Pererepenko, in

his beastly and blameworthy actions, goes beyond all his family, and under the guise of piety does the most

immoral things. He does not observe the fasts; for on the eve of St. Philip's this atheist bought a sheep, and

next day ordered his mistress, Gapka, to kill it, alleging that he needed tallow for lamps and candles at once.

"Therefore I pray that the said nobleman, a manifest robber, churchthief, and rascal, convicted of plundering

and stealing, may be put in irons, and confined in the jail or the government prison, and there, under

supervision, deprived of his rank and nobility, well flogged, and banished to forced labour in Siberia, and that

he may be commanded to pay damages and costs, and that judgment may be rendered on this my petition.

"To this plaint, Ivan Dovgotchkun, son of Nikifor, noble of the Mirgorod district, has set his hand."

As soon as the secretary had finished reading, Ivan Nikiforovitch seized his hat and bowed, with the intention

"Where are you going, Ivan Nikiforovitch?" the judge called after him. "Sit down a little while. Have some

tea. Orishko, why are you standing there, you stupid girl, winking at the clerks? Go, bring tea."

But Ivan Nikiforovitch, in terror at having got so far from home, and at having undergone such a fearful

quarantine, made haste to crawl through the door, saying, "Don't trouble yourself. It is with pleasure that I"

There was nothing to be done. Both plaints were entered; and the affair promised to assume a sufficiently

serious aspect when an unforeseen occurrence lent an added interest to it. As the judge was leaving the court

in company with the clerk and secretary, and the employees were thrusting into sacks the fowls, eggs, loaves,

pies, cracknels, and other odds and ends brought by the plaintiffsjust at that moment a brown sow rushed

into the room and snatched, to the amazement of the spectators, neither a pie nor a crust of bread but Ivan

Nikiforovitch's plaint, which lay at the end of the table with its leaves hanging over. Having seized the

document, mistress sow ran off so briskly that not one of the clerks or officials could catch her, in spite of the

This extraordinary occurrence produced a terrible muddle, for there had not even been a copy taken of the

plaint. The judge, that is to say, his secretary and the assistant debated for a long time upon such an

unheardof affair. Finally it was decided to write a report of the matter to the governor, as the investigation

of the matter pertained more to the department of the city police. Report No. 389 was despatched to him that

same day; and also upon that day there came to light a sufficiently curious explanation, which the reader may

As soon as Ivan Ivanovitch had arranged his domestic affairs and stepped out upon the balcony, according to

his custom, to lie down, he saw, to his indescribable amazement, something red at the gate. This was the red

facings of the chief of police's coat, which were polished equally with his collar, and resembled varnished

Ivan Ivanovitch thought to himself, "It's not bad that Peter Feodorovitch has come to talk it over with me."

But he was very much surprised to see that the chief was walking remarkably fast and flourishing his hands,

which was very rarely the case with him. There were eight buttons on the chief of police's uniform: the ninth,

torn off in some manner during the procession at the consecration of the church two years before, the police

had not been able to find up to this time: although the chief, on the occasion of the daily reports made to him

by the sergeants, always asked, "Has that button been found?" These eight buttons were strewn about him as

women sow beansone to the right and one to the left. His left foot had been struck by a ball in the last

campaign, and so he limped and threw it out so far to one side as to almost counteract the efforts of the right

foot. The more briskly the chief of police worked his walking apparatus the less progress he made in advance.

So while he was getting to the balcony, Ivan Ivanovitch had plenty of time to lose himself in surmises as to

why the chief was flourishing his hands so vigorously. This interested him the more, as the matter seemed

"Good morning, Peter Feodorovitch!" cried Ivan Ivanovitch, who was, as has already been stated,

exceedingly curious, and could not restrain his impatience as the chief of police began to ascend to the

balcony, yet never raised his eyes, and kept grumbling at his foot, which could not be persuaded to mount the

"I wish my good friend and benefactor, Ivan Ivanovitch, a goodday," replied the chief.

"My foot!" screamed the chief, bestowing upon Ivan Ivanovitch a glance such as a giant might cast upon a

pigmy, a pedant upon a dancingmaster: and he stretched out his foot and stamped upon the floor with it.

This boldness cost him dear; for his whole body wavered and his nose struck the railing; but the brave

preserver of order, with the purpose of making light of it, righted himself immediately, and began to feel in

his pocket as if to get his snuffbox. "I must report to you, my dear friend and benefactor, Ivan Ivanovitch,

that never in all my days have I made such a march. Yes, seriously. For instance, during the campaign of

1807 Ah! I will tell to you how I crawled through the enclosure to see a pretty little German." Here the

"Where have you been today?" asked Ivan Ivanovitch, wishing to cut the chief short and bring him more

speedily to the object of his visit. He would have very much liked to inquire what the chief meant to tell him,

but his extensive knowledge of the world showed him the impropriety of such a question; and so he had to

keep himself well in hand and await a solution, his heart, meanwhile, beating with unusual force.

"Ah, excuse me! I was going to tell youwhere was I?" answered the chief of police. "In the first place, I

"But permit me," went on the chief. "I have come to you today about a very important affair." Here the

chief's face and bearing assumed the same careworn aspect with which he had ascended to the balcony.

Ivan Ivanovitch breathed again, and shook as if in a fever, omitting not, as was his habit, to put a question.

"Pray judge for yourself; in the first place I venture to report to you, dear friend and benefactor, Ivan

Ivanovitch, that you I beg you to observe that, for my own part, I should have nothing to say; but the rules

"Pardon me, Ivan Ivanovitch! how can it be that you do not understand? Your own beast has destroyed an

important government document; and you can still say, after that, that you do not understand!"

"But I did not say that, Ivan Ivanovitch! By Heaven! I did not say so! Pray judge from your own clear

conscience. It is known to you without doubt, that in accordance with the views of the government, unclean

animals are forbidden to roam about the town, particularly in the principal streets. Admit, now, that it is

"God knows what you are talking about! A mighty important business that a sow got into the street!"

"Permit me to inform you, Ivan Ivanovitch, permit me, permit me, that this is utterly inadvisable. What is to

be done? The authorities command, we must obey. I don't deny that sometimes chickens and geese run about

the street, and even about the square, pray observe, chickens and geese; but only last year, I gave orders that

pigs and goats were not to be admitted to the public squares, which regulations I directed to be read aloud at

"No, Peter Feodorovitch, I see nothing here except that you are doing your best to insult me."

"But you cannot say that, my dearest friend and benefactor, that I have tried to insult you. Bethink yourself: I

never said a word to you last year when you built a roof a whole foot higher than is allowed by law. On the

contrary, I pretended not to have observed it. Believe me, my dearest friend, even now, I would, so to

speakbut my dutyin a word, my duty demands that I should have an eye to cleanliness. Just judge for

"Fine principal streets yours are! Every woman goes there and throws down any rubbish she chooses."

"Permit me to inform you, Ivan Ivanovitch, that it is you who are insulting me. That does sometimes happen,

but, as a rule, only besides fences, sheds, or storehouses; but that a filthy sow should intrude herself in the

"What sort of a matter? Peter Feodorovitch! surely a sow is one of God's creatures!"

"Agreed. Everybody knows that you are a learned man, that you are acquainted with sciences and various

other subjects. I never studied the sciences: I began to learn to write in my thirteenth year. Of course you

"Yes," continued the chief of police, "in 1801 I was in the Fortysecond Regiment of chasseurs, lieutenant in

the fourth company. The commander of our company was, if I may be permitted to mention it, Captain

Eremeeff." Thereupon the chief of police thrust his fingers into the snuffbox which Ivan Ivanovitch was

"But my duty," went on the chief of police, "is to obey the commands of the authorities. Do you know, Ivan

Ivanovitch, that a person who purloins a government document in the courtroom incurs capital punishment

"I know it; and, if you like, I can give you lessons. It is so decreed with regard to people, as if you, for

instance, were to steal a document; but a sow is an animal, one of God's creatures."

"Certainly; but the law reads, 'Those guilty of theft'I beg of you to listen most attentively'Those guilty!'

Here is indicated neither race nor sex nor rank: of course an animal can be guilty. You may say what you

please; but the animal, until the sentence is pronounced by the court, should be committed to the charge of the

"What are you threatening me with? Probably you want to send that onearmed soldier after her. I shall order

the woman who tends the door to drive him off with the poker: he'll get his last arm broken."

"I dare not dispute with you. In case you will not commit the sow to the charge of the police, then do what

you please with her: kill her for Christmas, if you like, and make hams of her, or eat her as she is. Only I

should like to ask you, in case you make sausages, to send me a couple, such as your Gapka makes so well, of

"I shall be extremely obliged to you, dear friend and benefactor. Now permit me to say one word more. I am

commissioned by the judge, as well as by all our acquaintances, so to speak, to effect a reconciliation

"What! with that brute! I to be reconciled to that clown! Never! It shall not be, it shall not be!" Ivan

"As you like," replied the chief of police, treating both nostrils to snuff. "I will not venture to advise you; but

But Ivan Ivanovitch began to talk about catching quail, as he usually did when he wanted to put an end to a

conversation. So the chief of police was obliged to retire without having achieved any success whatever.

In spite of all the judge's efforts to keep the matter secret, all Mirgorod knew by the next day that Ivan

Ivanovitch's sow had stolen Ivan Nikiforovitch's petition. The chief of police himself, in a moment of

forgetfulness, was the first to betray himself. When Ivan Nikiforovitch was informed of it he said nothing: he

But Agafya Fedosyevna, who was present, began again to urge on Ivan Nikiforovitch. "What's the matter

with you, Ivan Nikiforovitch? People will laugh at you as at a fool if you let it pass. How can you remain a

nobleman after that? You will be worse than the old woman who sells the honeycakes with hempseed oil

And the mischiefmaker persuaded him. She hunted up somewhere a middleaged man with dark

complexion, spots all over his face, and a darkblue surtout patched on the elbows, a regular official

scribbler. He blacked his boots with tar, wore three pens behind his ear, and a glass vial tied to his buttonhole

with a string instead of an inkbottle: ate as many as nine pies at once, and put the tenth in his pocket, and

wrote so many slanders of all sorts on a single sheet of stamped paper that no reader could get through all at

one time without interspersing coughs and sneezes. This man laboured, toiled, and wrote, and finally

"To the District Judge of Mirgorod, from the noble, Ivan Dovgotchkun, son of Nikifor.

"In pursuance of my plaint which was presented by me, Ivan Dovgotchkun, son of Nikifor, against the

nobleman, Ivan Pererepenko, son of Ivan, to which the judge of the Mirgorod district court has exhibited

indifference; and the shameless, highhanded deed of the brown sow being kept secret, and coming to my

"And the said neglect, plainly malicious, lies incontestably at the judge's door; for the sow is a stupid animal,

and therefore unfitted for the theft of papers. From which it plainly appears that the said frequently mentioned

sow was not otherwise than instigated to the same by the opponent, Ivan Pererepenko, son of Ivan, calling

himself a nobleman, and already convicted of theft, conspiracy against life, and desecration of a church. But

the said Mirgorod judge, with the partisanship peculiar to him, gave his private consent to this individual; for

without such consent the said sow could by no possible means have been admitted to carry off the document;

for the judge of the district court of Mirgorod is well provided with servants: it was only necessary to

summon a soldier, who is always on duty in the receptionroom, and who, although he has but one eye and

one somewhat damaged arm, has powers quite adequate to driving out a sow, and to beating it with a stick,

from which is credibly evident the criminal neglect of the said Mirgorod judge and the incontestable sharing

of the Jewlike spoils therefrom resulting from these mutual conspirators. And the aforesaid robber and

nobleman, Ivan Pererepenko, son of Ivan, having disgraced himself, finished his turning on his lathe.

Wherefore, I, the noble Ivan Dovgotchkun, son of Nikifor, declare to the said district judge in proper form

that if the said brown sow, or the man Pererepenko, be not summoned to the court, and judgment in

accordance with justice and my advantage pronounced upon her, then I, Ivan Dovgotchkun, son of Nikifor,

shall present a plaint, with observance of all due formalities, against the said district judge for his illegal

This petition produced its effect. The judge was a man of timid disposition, as all good people generally are.

He betook himself to the secretary. But the secretary emitted from his lips a thick "Hm," and exhibited on his

countenance that indifferent and diabolically equivocal expression which Satan alone assumes when he sees

his victim hastening to his feet. One resource remained to him, to reconcile the two friends. But how to set

about it, when all attempts up to that time had been so unsuccessful? Nevertheless, it was decided to make

another effort; but Ivan Ivanovitch declared outright that he would not hear of it, and even flew into a violent

passion; whilst Ivan Nikiforovitch, in lieu of an answer, turned his back and would not utter a word.

Then the case went on with the unusual promptness upon which courts usually pride themselves. Documents

were dated, labelled, numbered, sewed together, registered all in one day, and the matter laid on the shelf,

where it continued to lie, for one, two, or three years. Many brides were married; a new street was laid out in

Mirgorod; one of the judge's double teeth fell out and two of his eyeteeth; more children than ever ran about

Ivan Ivanovitch's yard; Ivan Nikiforovitch, as a reproof to Ivan Ivanovitch, constructed a new gooseshed,

although a little farther back than the first, and built himself completely off from his neighbour, so that these

worthy people hardly ever beheld each other's faces; but still the case lay in the cabinet, which had become

In the meantime a very important event for all Mirgorod had taken place. The chief of police had given a

reception. Whence shall I obtain the brush and colours to depict this varied gathering and magnificent feast?

Take your watch, open it, and look what is going on inside. A fearful confusion, is it not? Now, imagine

almost the same, if not a greater, number of wheels standing in the chief of police's courtyard. How many

carriages and waggons were there! One was wide behind and narrow in front; another narrow behind and

wide in front. One was a carriage and a waggon combined; another neither a carriage nor a waggon. One

resembled a huge hayrick or a fat merchant's wife; another a dilapidated Jew or a skeleton not quite freed

from the skin. One was a perfect pipe with long stem in profile; another, resembling nothing whatever,

suggested some strange, shapeless, fantastic object. In the midst of this chaos of wheels rose coaches with

windows like those of a room. The drivers, in grey Cossack coats, gaberdines, and white hareskin coats,

sheepskin hats and caps of various patterns, and with pipes in their hands, drove the unharnessed horses

What a reception the chief of police gave! Permit me to run through the list of those who were there: Taras

Tarasovitch, Evpl Akinfovitch, Evtikhiy Evtikhievitch, Ivan Ivanovitchnot that Ivan Ivanovitch but

anotherGabba Bavrilonovitch, our Ivan Ivanovitch, Elevferiy Elevferievitch, Makar Nazarevitch, Thoma

GrigorovitchI can say no more: my powers fail me, my hand stops writing. And how many ladies were

there! dark and fair, tall and short, some fat like Ivan Nikiforovitch, and some so thin that it seemed as though

each one might hide herself in the scabbard of the chief's sword. What headdresses! what costumes! red,

yellow, coffeecolour, green, blue, new, turned, remade dresses, ribbons, reticules. Farewell, poor eyes! you

will never be good for anything any more after such a spectacle. And how long the table was drawn out! and

how all talked! and what a noise they made! What is a mill with its drivingwheel, stones, beams, hammers,

wheels, in comparison with this? I cannot tell you exactly what they talked about, but presumably of many

agreeable and useful things, such as the weather, dogs, wheat, caps, and dice. At length Ivan Ivanovitchnot

our Ivan Ivanovitch, but the other, who had but one eyesaid, "It strikes me as strange that my right eye,"

this oneeyed Ivan Ivanovitch always spoke sarcastically about himself, "does not see Ivan Nikiforovitch,

"It's two years now, glory to God! since they quarrelled; that is, Ivan Ivanovitch and Ivan Nikiforovitch; and

"You don't say so!" Thereupon oneeyed Ivan Ivanovitch raised his eye and clasped his hands. "Well, if

people with good eyes cannot live in peace, how am I to live amicably, with my bad one?"

At these words they all laughed at the tops of their voices. Every one liked oneeyed Ivan Ivanovitch,

because he cracked jokes in that style. A tall, thin man in a frieze coat, with a plaster on his nose, who up to

this time had sat in the corner, and never once altered the expression of his face, even when a fly lighted on

his nose, rose from his seat, and approached nearer to the crowd which surrounded oneeyed Ivan

Ivanovitch. "Listen," said Ivan Ivanovitch, when he perceived that quite a throng had collected about him;

"suppose we make peace between our friends. Ivan Ivanovitch is talking with the women and girls; let us

Ivan Ivanovitch's proposal was unanimously agreed to; and it was decided to send at once to Ivan

Nikiforovitch's house, and beg him, at any rate, to come to the chief of police's for dinner. But the difficult

question as to who was to be intrusted with this weighty commission rendered all thoughtful. They debated

long as to who was the most expert in diplomatic matters. At length it was unanimously agreed to depute

But it is necessary, first of all, to make the reader somewhat acquainted with this noteworthy person. Anton

Prokofievitch was a truly good man, in the fullest meaning of the term. If any one in Mirgorod gave him a

neckerchief or underclothes, he returned thanks; if any one gave him a fillip on the nose, he returned thanks

too. If he was asked, "Why, Anton Prokofievitch, do you wear a light brown coat with blue sleeves?" he

generally replied, "Ah, you haven't one like it! Wait a bit, it will soon fade and will be alike all over." And, in

point of fact, the blue cloth, from the effects of the sun, began to turn cinnamon colour, and became of the

same tint as the rest of the coat. But the strange part of it was that Anton Prokofievitch had a habit of wearing

Anton Prokofievitch had no house of his own. He used to have one on the outskirts of the town; but he sold it,

and with the purchasemoney bought a team of brown horses and a little carriage in which he drove about to

stay with the squires. But as the horses were a deal of trouble and money was required for oats, Anton

Prokofievitch bartered them for a violin and a housemaid, with twentyfive paper rubles to boot. Afterwards

Anton Prokofievitch sold the violin, and exchanged the girl for a morocco and gold tobaccopouch; now he

has such a tobaccopouch as no one else has. As a result of this luxury, he can no longer go about among the

country houses, but has to remain in the town and pass the night at different houses, especially of those

gentlemen who take pleasure in tapping him on the nose. Anton Prokofievitch is very fond of good eating,

and plays a good game at cards. Obeying orders always was his forte; so, taking his hat and cane, he set out at

But, as he walked along, he began to ponder in what manner he should contrive to induce Ivan Nikiforovitch

to come to the assembly. The unbending character of the latter, who was otherwise a worthy man, rendered

the undertaking almost hopeless. How, indeed, was he to persuade him to come, when even rising from his

bed cost him so great an effort? But supposing that he did rise, how could he get him to come, where, as he

doubtless knew, his irreconcilable enemy already was? The more Anton Prokofievitch reflected, the more

difficulties he perceived. The day was sultry, the sun beat down, the perspiration poured from him in streams.

Anton Prokofievitch was a tolerably sharp man in many respects though they did tap him on the nose. In

bartering, however, he was not fortunate. He knew very well when to play the fool, and sometimes contrived

to turn things to his own profit amid circumstances and surroundings from which a wise man could rarely

His ingenious mind had contrived a means of persuading Ivan Nikiforovitch; and he was proceeding bravely

to face everything when an unexpected occurrence somewhat disturbed his equanimity. There is no harm, at

this point, in admitting to the reader that, among other things, Anton Prokofievitch was the owner of a pair of

trousers of such singular properties that whenever he put them on the dogs always bit his calves.

Unfortunately, he had donned this particular pair of trousers; and he had hardly given himself up to

meditation before a fearful barking on all sides saluted his ears. Anton Prokofievitch raised such a yell, no

one could scream louder than he, that not only did the wellknown woman and the occupant of the endless

coat rush out to meet him, but even the small boys from Ivan Ivanovitch's yard. But although the dogs

succeeded in tasting only one of his calves, this sensibility diminished his courage, and he entered the porch

"Ah! how do you do? Why do you irritate the dogs?" said Ivan Nikiforovitch, on perceiving Anton

Prokofievitch; for no one spoke otherwise than jestingly with Anton Prokofievitch.

"He invited you in a more pressing manner than I can tell you. 'Why,' says he, 'does Ivan Nikiforovitch shun

"'If,' says he, 'Ivan Nikiforovitch does not come now, I shall not know what to think: surely, he must have

some design against me. Pray, Anton Prokofievitch, persuade Ivan Nikiforovitch!' Come, Ivan Nikiforovitch,

Ivan Nikiforovitch began to look at a cock, which was perched on the roof, crowing with all its might.

"If you only knew, Ivan Nikiforovitch," pursued the zealous ambassador, "what fresh sturgeon and caviare

Peter Feodorovitch has had sent to him!" Whereupon Ivan Nikiforovitch turned his head and began to listen

attentively. This encouraged the messenger. "Come quickly: Thoma Grigorovitch is there too. Why don't you

come?" he added, seeing that Ivan Nikiforovitch still lay in the same position. "Shall we go, or not?"

This "I won't" startled Anton Prokofievitch. He had fancied that his alluring representations had quite moved

"Why won't you?" he asked, with a vexation which he very rarely exhibited, even when they put burning

paper on his head, a trick which the judge and the chief of police were particularly fond of indulging in.

"Why don't I go?" said Ivan Nikiforovitch at length: "because that brigand will be there!" This was his

"He will not be there, he will not be there! May the lightning kill me on the spot!" returned Anton

Prokofievitch, who was ready to perjure himself ten times in an hour. "Come along, Ivan Nikiforovitch!"

"By Heaven, by Heaven, he's not! May I never stir from this place if he's there! Now, just think for yourself,

what object have I in lying? May my hands and feet wither! What, don't you believe me now? May I

Ivan Nikiforovitch was entirely reassured by these asseverations, and ordered his valet, in the boundless coat,

To describe how Ivan Nikiforovitch put on his trousers, how they wound his neckerchief about his neck, and

finally dragged on his spencer, which burst under the left sleeve, would be quite superfluous. Suffice it to say,

that during the whole of the time he preserved a becoming calmness of demeanour, and answered not a word

to Anton Prokofievitch's proposition to exchange something for his Turkish tobaccopouch.

Meanwhile, the assembly awaited with impatience the decisive moment when Ivan Nikiforovitch should

make his appearance and at length comply with the general desire that these worthy people should be

reconciled to each other. Many were almost convinced that Ivan Nikiforovitch would not come. Even the

chief of police offered to bet with oneeyed Ivan Ivanovitch that he would not come; and only desisted when

oneeyed Ivan Ivanovitch demanded that he should wager his lame foot against his own bad eye, at which

the chief of police was greatly offended, and the company enjoyed a quiet laugh. No one had yet sat down to

the table, although it was long past two o'clock, an hour before which in Mirgorod, even on ceremonial

No sooner did Anton Prokofievitch show himself in the doorway, then he was instantly surrounded. Anton

Prokofievitch, in answer to all inquiries, shouted the alldecisive words, "He will not come!" No sooner had

he uttered them than a hailstorm of reproaches, scoldings, and, possibly, even fillips were about to descend

upon his head for the ill success of his mission, when all at once the door opened, andIvan Nikiforovitch

If Satan himself or a corpse had appeared, it would not have caused such consternation amongst the company

as Ivan Nikiforovitch's unexpected arrival created. But Anton Prokofievitch only went off into a fit of

laughter, and held his sides with delight at having played such a joke upon the company.

At all events, it was almost past the belief of all that Ivan Nikiforovitch could, in so brief a space of time,

have attired himself like a respectable gentleman. Ivan Ivanovitch was not there at the moment: he had

stepped out somewhere. Recovering from their amazement, the guests expressed an interest in Ivan

Nikiforovitch's health, and their pleasure at his increase in breadth. Ivan Nikiforovitch kissed every one, and

Meantime, the fragrance of the beetsoup was wafted through the apartment, and tickled the nostrils of the

hungry guests very agreeably. All rushed headlong to table. The line of ladies, loquacious and silent, thin and

stout, swept on, and the long table soon glittered with all the hues of the rainbow. I will not describe the

courses: I will make no mention of the curd dumplings with sour cream, nor of the dish of pig's fry that was

served with the soup, nor of the turkey with plums and raisins, nor of the dish which greatly resembled in

appearance a boot soaked in kvas, nor of the sauce, which is the swan's song of the oldfashioned cook, nor

of that other dish which was brought in all enveloped in the flames of spirit, and amused as well as frightened

the ladies extremely. I will say nothing of these dishes, because I like to eat them better than to spend many

Ivan Ivanovitch was exceedingly pleased with the fish dressed with horseradish. He devoted himself

especially to this useful and nourishing preparation. Picking out all the fine bones from the fish, he laid them

on his plate; and happening to glance across the tableHeavenly Creator; but this was strange! Opposite him

At the very same instant Ivan Nikiforovitch glanced up also No, I can do no more Give me a fresh pen

with a fine point for this picture! mine is flabby. Their faces seemed to turn to stone whilst still retaining their

defiant expression. Each beheld a long familiar face, to which it should have seemed the most natural of

things to step up, involuntarily, as to an unexpected friend, and offer a snuffbox, with the words, "Do me the

favour," or "Dare I beg you to do me the favour?" Instead of this, that face was terrible as a forerunner of evil.

All the guests at the table grew dumb with attention, and never once took their eyes off the former friends.

The ladies, who had been busy up to that time on a sufficiently interesting discussion as to the preparation of

capons, suddenly cut their conversation short. All was silence. It was a picture worthy of the brush of a great

At length Ivan Ivanovitch pulled out his handkerchief and began to blow his nose; whilst Ivan Nikiforovitch

glanced about and his eye rested on the open door. The chief of police at once perceived this movement, and

ordered the door to be fastened. Then both of the friends began to eat, and never once glanced at each other

As soon as dinner was over, the two former friends both rose from their seats, and began to look for their

hats, with a view to departure. Then the chief beckoned; and Ivan Ivanovitchnot our Ivan Ivanovitch, but

the other with the one eyegot behind Ivan Nikiforovitch, and the chief stepped behind Ivan Ivanovitch, and

the two began to drag them backwards, in order to bring them together, and not release them till they had

shaken hands with each other. Ivan Ivanovitch, the oneeyed, pushed Ivan Nikiforovitch, with tolerable

success, towards the spot where stood Ivan Ivanovitch. But the chief of police directed his course too much to

one side, because he could not steer himself with his refractory leg, which obeyed no orders whatever on this

occasion, and, as if with malice and aforethought, swung itself uncommonly far, and in quite the contrary

direction, possibly from the fact that there had been an unusual amount of fruit wine after dinner, so that Ivan

Ivanovitch fell over a lady in a red gown, who had thrust herself into the very midst, out of curiosity.

Such an omen forboded no good. Nevertheless, the judge, in order to set things to rights, took the chief of

police's place, and, sweeping all the snuff from his upper lip with his nose, pushed Ivan Ivanovitch in the

opposite direction. In Mirgorod this is the usual manner of effecting a reconciliation: it somewhat resembles a

game of ball. As soon as the judge pushed Ivan Ivanovitch, Ivan Ivanovitch with the one eye exerted all his

strength, and pushed Ivan Nikiforovitch, from whom the perspiration streamed like rainwater from a roof. In

spite of the fact that the friends resisted to the best of their ability, they were nevertheless brought together,

for the two chief movers received reinforcements from the ranks of their guests.

Then they were closely surrounded on all sides, not to be released until they had decided to give one another

their hands. "God be with you, Ivan Nikiforovitch and Ivan Ivanovitch! declare upon your honour now, that

what you quarrelled about were mere trifles, were they not? Are you not ashamed of yourselves before people

"I do not know," said Ivan Nikiforovitch, panting with fatigue, though it is to be observed that he was not at

all disinclined to a reconciliation, "I do not know what I did to Ivan Ivanovitch; but why did he destroy my

"I am innocent of any evil designs!" said Ivan Ivanovitch, never looking at Ivan Nikiforovitch. "I swear

before God and before you, honourable noblemen, I did nothing to my enemy! Why does he calumniate me

"How have I insulted you, Ivan Ivanovitch?" said Ivan Nikiforovitch. One moment more of explanation, and

the long enmity would have been extinguished. Ivan Nikiforovitch was already feeling in his pocket for his

"Is it not an insult," answered Ivan Ivanovitch, without raising his eyes, "when you, my dear sir, insulted my

"Permit me to observe, in a friendly manner, Ivan Ivanovitch," here Ivan Nikiforovitch touched Ivan

Ivanovitch's button with his finger, which clearly indicated the disposition of his mind, "that you took

It occurred to Ivan Nikiforovitch that he had made a mistake in uttering that word; but it was too late: the

word was said. Everything went to the winds. It, on the utterance of this word without witnesses, Ivan

Ivanovitch lost control of himself and flew into such a passion as God preserve us from beholding any man

in, what was to be expected now? I put it to you, dear readers, what was to be expected now, when the fatal

word was uttered in an assemblage of persons among whom were ladies, in whose presence Ivan Ivanovitch

liked to be particularly polite? If Ivan Nikiforovitch had set to work in any other manner, if he had only said

He gave one look at Ivan Nikiforovitch, but such a look! If that look had possessed active power, then it

would have turned Ivan Nikiforovitch into dust. The guests understood the look and hastened to separate

them. And this man, the very model of gentleness, who never let a single poor woman go by without

interrogating her, rushed out in a fearful rage. Such violent storms do passions produce!

For a whole month nothing was heard of Ivan Ivanovitch. He shut himself up at home. His ancestral chest

was opened, and from it were taken silver rubles, his grandfather's old silver rubles! And these rubles passed

into the inkstained hands of legal advisers. The case was sent up to the higher court; and when Ivan

Ivanovitch received the joyful news that it would be decided on the morrow, then only did he look out upon

the world and resolve to emerge from his house. Alas! from that time forth the council gave notice day by day

Five years ago, I passed through the town of Mirgorod. I came at a bad time. It was autumn, with its damp,

melancholy weather, mud and mists. An unnatural verdure, the result of incessant rains, covered with a

watery network the fields and meadows, to which it is as well suited as youthful pranks to an old man, or

roses to an old woman. The weather made a deep impression on me at the time: when it was dull, I was dull;

but in spite of this, when I came to pass through Mirgorod, my heart beat violently. God, what reminiscences!

I had not seen Mirgorod for twenty years. Here had lived, in touching friendship, two inseparable friends.

And how many prominent people had died! Judge Demyan Demyanovitch was already gone: Ivan

I entered the main street. All about stood poles with bundles of straw on top: some alterations were in

progress. Several dwellings had been removed. The remnants of board and wattled fences projected sadly

here and there. It was a festival day. I ordered my basket chaise to stop in front of the church, and entered

softly that no one might turn round. To tell the truth, there was no need of this: the church was almost empty;

there were very few people; it was evident that even the most pious feared the mud. The candles seemed

strangely unpleasant in that gloomy, or rather sickly, light. The dim vestibule was melancholy; the long

windows, with their circular panes, were bedewed with tears of rain. I retired into the vestibule, and

addressing a respectable old man, with greyish hair, said, "May I inquire if Ivan Nikiforovitch is still living?"

At that moment the lamp before the holy picture burned up more brightly and the light fell directly upon the

face of my companion. What was my surprise, on looking more closely, to behold features with which I was

"Yes, I have grown old. I have just come from Poltava today," answered Ivan Nikiforovitch.

Ivan Nikiforovitch observed my sigh, and said, "Do not be troubled: I have reliable information that the case

I saw a gaunt form. Was that Ivan Ivanovitch? His face was covered with wrinkles, his hair was perfectly

white; but the pelisse was the same as ever. After the first greetings were over, Ivan Ivanovitch, turning to me

with a joyful smile which always became his funnelshaped face, said, "Have you been told the good news?"

"My case is to be decided tomorrow without fail: the court has announced it decisively."

I sighed more deeply than before, made haste to take my leave, for I was bound on very important business,

The lean nags known in Mirgorod as posthorses started, producing with their hoofs, which were buried in a

grey mass of mud, a sound very displeasing to the ear. The rain poured in torrents upon the Jew seated on the

box, covered with a rug. The dampness penetrated through and through me. The gloomy barrier with a

sentrybox, in which an old soldier was repairing his weapons, was passed slowly. Again the same fields, in

some places black where they had been dug up, in others of a greenish hue; wet daws and crows; monotonous

rain; a tearful sky, without one gleam of light! . . . It is gloomy in this world, gentlemen!

Nowhere did so many people pause as before the little pictureshop in the Shtchukinui Dvor. This little shop

contained, indeed, the most varied collection of curiosities. The pictures were chiefly oilpaintings covered

with dark varnish, in frames of dingy yellow. Winter scenes with white trees; very red sunsets, like raging

conflagrations, a Flemish boor, more like a turkeycock in cuffs than a human being, were the prevailing

subjects. To these must be added a few engravings, such as a portrait of KhozreffMirza in a sheepskin cap,

and some generals with threecornered hats and hooked noses. Moreover, the doors of such shops are usually

festooned with bundles of those publications, printed on large sheets of bark, and then coloured by hand,

On one was the Tzarevna Miliktrisa Kirbitievna; on another the city of Jerusalem. There are usually but few

purchasers of these productions, but gazers are many. Some truant lackey probably yawns in front of them,

holding in his hand the dishes containing dinner from the cookshop for his master, who will not get his soup

very hot. Before them, too, will most likely be standing a soldier wrapped in his cloak, a dealer from the

oldclothes mart, with a couple of penknives for sale, and a huckstress, with a basketful of shoes. Each

expresses admiration in his own way. The muzhiks generally touch them with their fingers; the dealers gaze

seriously at them; serving boys and apprentices laugh, and tease each other with the coloured caricatures; old

lackeys in frieze cloaks look at them merely for the sake of yawning away their time somewhere; and the

hucksters, young Russian women, halt by instinct to hear what people are gossiping about, and to see what

At the time our story opens, the young painter, Tchartkoff, paused involuntarily as he passed the shop. His

old cloak and plain attire showed him to be a man who was devoted to his art with selfdenying zeal, and

who had no time to trouble himself about his clothes. He halted in front of the little shop, and at first enjoyed

At length he sank unconsciously into a reverie, and began to ponder as to what sort of people wanted these

productions? It did not seem remarkable to him that the Russian populace should gaze with rapture upon

"Eruslanoff Lazarevitch," on "The Glutton" and "The Carouser," on "Thoma and Erema." The delineations of

these subjects were easily intelligible to the masses. But where were there purchases for those streaky, dirty

oilpaintings? Who needed those Flemish boors, those red and blue landscapes, which put forth some claims

to a higher stage of art, but which really expressed the depths of its degradation? They did not appear the

works of a selftaught child. In that case, in spite of the caricature of drawing, a sharp distinction would have

manifested itself. But here were visible only simple dullness, steadygoing incapacity, which stood, through

selfwill, in the ranks of art, while its true place was among the lowest trades. The same colours, the same

manner, the same practised hand, belonging rather to a manufacturing automaton than to a man!

He stood before the dirty pictures for some time, his thoughts at length wandering to other matters.

Meanwhile the proprietor of the shop, a little grey man, in a frieze cloak, with a beard which had not been

shaved since Sunday, had been urging him to buy for some time, naming prices, without even knowing what

pleased him or what he wanted. "Here, I'll take a silver piece for these peasants and this little landscape. What

painting! it fairly dazzles one; only just received from the factory; the varnish isn't dry yet. Or here is a winter

scenetake the winter scene; fifteen rubles; the frame alone is worth it. What a winter scene!" Here the

merchant gave a slight fillip to the canvas, as if to demonstrate all the merits of the winter scene. "Pray have

them put up and sent to your house. Where do you live? Here, boy, give me some string!"

"Hold, not so fast!" said the painter, coming to himself, and perceiving that the brisk dealer was beginning in

earnest to pack some pictures up. He was rather ashamed not to take anything after standing so long in front

of the shop; so saying, "Here, stop! I will see if there is anything I want here!" he stooped and began to pick

up from the floor, where they were thrown in a heap, some worn, dusty old paintings. There were old family

portraits, whose descendants, probably could not be found on earth; with torn canvas and frames minus their

gilding; in short, trash. But the painter began his search, thinking to himself, "Perhaps I may come across

something." He had heard stories about pictures of the great masters having been found among the rubbish in

The dealer, perceiving what he was about, ceased his importunities, and took up his post again at the door,

hailing the passersby with, "Hither, friends, here are pictures; step in, step in; just received from the

makers!" He shouted his fill, and generally in vain, had a long talk with a ragmerchant, standing opposite, at

the door of his shop; and finally, recollecting that he had a customer in his shop, turned his back on the public

and went inside. "Well, friend, have you chosen anything?" said he. But the painter had already been standing

motionless for some time before a portrait in a large and originally magnificent frame, upon which, however,

It represented an old man, with a thin, bronzed face and high cheekbones; the features seemingly depicted in

a moment of convulsive agitation. He wore a flowing Asiatic costume. Dusty and defaced as the portrait was,

Tchartkoff saw, when he had succeeded in removing the dirt from the face, traces of the work of a great artist.

The portrait appeared to be unfinished, but the power of the handling was striking. The eyes were the most

remarkable picture of all: it seemed as though the full power of the artist's brush had been lavished upon

them. They fairly gazed out of the portrait, destroying its harmony with their strange liveliness. When he

carried the portrait to the door, the eyes gleamed even more penetratingly. They produced nearly the same

impression on the public. A woman standing behind him exclaimed, "He is looking, he is looking!" and

jumped back. Tchartkoff experienced an unpleasant feeling, inexplicable even to himself, and placed the

"What a price! Why, you couldn't buy the frame for that! Perhaps you will decide to purchase tomorrow.

Sir, sir, turn back! Add ten kopeks. Take it, take it! give me twenty kopeks. To tell the truth, you are my only

Thus Tchartkoff quite unexpectedly became the purchaser of the old portrait, and at the same time reflected,

"Why have I bought it? What is it to me?" But there was nothing to be done. He pulled a twentykopek piece

from his pocket, gave it to the merchant, took the portrait under his arm, and carried it home. On the way

thither, he remembered that the twentykopek piece he had given for it was his last. His thoughts at once

became gloomy. Vexation and careless indifference took possession of him at one and the same moment. The

red light of sunset still lingered in one half the sky; the houses facing that way still gleamed with its warm

light; and meanwhile the cold blue light of the moon grew brighter. Light, halftransparent shadows fell in

bands upon the ground. The painter began by degrees to glance up at the sky, flushed with a transparent light;

and at the same moment from his mouth fell the words, "What a delicate tone! What a nuisance! Deuce take

it!" Readjusting the portrait, which kept slipping from under his arm, he quickened his pace.

Weary and bathed in perspiration, he dragged himself to Vasilievsky Ostroff. With difficulty and much

panting he made his way up the stairs flooded with soapsuds, and adorned with the tracks of dogs and cats.

To his knock there was no answer: there was no one at home. He leaned against the window, and disposed

himself to wait patiently, until at last there resounded behind him the footsteps of a boy in a blue blouse, his

servant, model, and colourgrinder. This boy was called Nikita, and spent all his time in the streets when his

master was not at home. Nikita tried for a long time to get the key into the lock, which was quite invisible, by

Finally the door was opened. Tchartkoff entered his anteroom, which was intolerably cold, as painters'

rooms always are, which fact, however, they do not notice. Without giving Nikita his coat, he went on into

his studio, a large room, but low, fitted up with all sorts of artistic rubbishplaster hands, canvases, sketches

begun and discarded, and draperies thrown over chairs. Feeling very tired, he took off his cloak, placed the

portrait abstractedly between two small canvasses, and threw himself on the narrow divan. Having stretched

"And there were none last night," said Nikita. The artist recollected that, in fact, there had been no candles the

previous evening, and became silent. He let Nikita take his coat off, and put on his old worn dressinggown.

"I don't know what will come of it: he said, 'If he won't pay, why, let him leave the rooms.' They are both

"Let them come," said Tchartkoff, with indifference; and a gloomy mood took full possession of him.

Young Tchartkoff was an artist of talent, which promised great things: his work gave evidence of

"Look here, my friend," his professor said to him more than once, "you have talent; it will be a shame if you

waste it: but you are impatient; you have but to be attracted by anything, to fall in love with it, you become

engrossed with it, and all else goes for nothing, and you won't even look at it. See to it that you do not

become a fashionable artist. At present your colouring begins to assert itself too loudly; and your drawing is

at times quite weak; you are already striving after the fashionable style, because it strikes the eye at once.

Have a care! society already begins to have its attraction for you: I have seen you with a shiny hat, a foppish

neckerchief. . . . It is seductive to paint fashionable little pictures and portraits for money; but talent is ruined,

not developed, by that means. Be patient; think out every piece of work, discard your foppishness; let others

The professor was partly right. Our artist sometimes wanted to enjoy himself, to play the fop, in short, to give

vent to his youthful impulses in some way or other; but he could control himself withal. At times he would

forget everything, when he had once taken his brush in his hand, and could not tear himself from it except as

from a delightful dream. His taste perceptibly developed. He did not as yet understand all the depths of

Raphael, but he was attracted by Guido's broad and rapid handling, he paused before Titian's portraits, he

delighted in the Flemish masters. The dark veil enshrouding the ancient pictures had not yet wholly passed

away from before them; but he already saw something in them, though in private he did not agree with the

professor that the secrets of the old masters are irremediably lost to us. It seemed to him that the nineteenth

century had improved upon them considerably, that the delineation of nature was more clear, more vivid,

more close. It sometimes vexed him when he saw how a strange artist, French or German, sometimes not

even a painter by profession, but only a skilful dauber, produced, by the celerity of his brush and the

vividness of his colouring, a universal commotion, and amassed in a twinkling a funded capital. This did not

occur to him when fully occupied with his own work, for then he forgot food and drink and all the world. But

when dire want arrived, when he had no money wherewith to buy brushes and colours, when his implacable

landlord came ten times a day to demand the rent for his rooms, then did the luck of the wealthy artists recur

to his hungry imagination; then did the thought which so often traverses Russian minds, to give up altogether,

and go down hill, utterly to the bad, traverse his. And now he was almost in this frame of mind.

"Yes, it is all very well, to be patient, be patient!" he exclaimed, with vexation; "but there is an end to

patience at last. Be patient! but what money have I to buy a dinner with tomorrow? No one will lend me

any. If I did bring myself to sell all my pictures and sketches, they would not give me twenty kopeks for the

whole of them. They are useful; I feel that not one of them has been undertaken in vain; I have learned

something from each one. Yes, but of what use is it? Studies, sketches, all will be studies, trialsketches to

the end. And who will buy, not even knowing me by name? Who wants drawings from the antique, or the life

class, or my unfinished love of a Psyche, or the interior of my room, or the portrait of Nikita, though it is

better, to tell the truth, than the portraits by any of the fashionable artists? Why do I worry, and toil like a

learner over the alphabet, when I might shine as brightly as the rest, and have money, too, like them?"

Thus speaking, the artist suddenly shuddered, and turned pale. A convulsively distorted face gazed at him,

peeping forth from the surrounding canvas; two terrible eyes were fixed straight upon him; on the mouth was

written a menacing command of silence. Alarmed, he tried to scream and summon Nikita, who already was

snoring in the anteroom; but he suddenly paused and laughed. The sensation of fear died away in a moment;

it was the portrait he had bought, and which he had quite forgotten. The light of the moon illuminating the

He began to examine it. He moistened a sponge with water, passed it over the picture several times, washed

off nearly all the accumulated and incrusted dust and dirt, hung it on the wall before him, wondering yet more

at the remarkable workmanship. The whole face had gained new life, and the eyes gazed at him so that he

shuddered; and, springing back, he exclaimed in a voice of surprise: "It looks with human eyes!" Then

suddenly there occurred to him a story he had heard long before from his professor, of a certain portrait by

the renowned Leonardo da Vinci, upon which the great master laboured several years, and still regarded as

incomplete, but which, according to Vasari, was nevertheless deemed by all the most complete and finished

product of his art. The most finished thing about it was the eyes, which amazed his contemporaries; the very

But in the portrait now before him there was something singular. It was no longer art; it even destroyed the

harmony of the portrait; they were living, human eyes! It seemed as though they had been cut from a living

man and inserted. Here was none of that high enjoyment which takes possession of the soul at the sight of an

Again he approached the portrait, in order to observe those wondrous eyes, and perceived, with terror, that

they were gazing at him. This was no copy from Nature; it was life, the strange life which might have lighted

up the face of a dead man, risen from the grave. Whether it was the effect of the moonlight, which brought

with it fantastic thoughts, and transformed things into strange likenesses, opposed to those of matteroffact

day, or from some other cause, but it suddenly became terrible to him, he knew not why, to sit alone in the

room. He draw back from the portrait, turned aside, and tried not to look at it; but his eye involuntarily, of its

own accord, kept glancing sideways towards it. Finally, he became afraid to walk about the room. It seemed

as though some one were on the point of stepping up behind him; and every time he turned, he glanced

timidly back. He had never been a coward; but his imagination and nerves were sensitive, and that evening he

could not explain his involuntary fear. He seated himself in one corner, but even then it seemed to him that

some one was peeping over his shoulder into his face. Even Nikita's snores, resounding from the anteroom,

did not chase away his fear. At length he rose from the seat, without raising his eyes, went behind a screen,

and lay down on his bed. Through the cracks of the screen he saw his room lit up by the moon, and the

portrait hanging stiffly on the wall. The eyes were fixed upon him in a yet more terrible and significant

manner, and it seemed as if they would not look at anything but himself. Overpowered with a feeling of

oppression, he decided to rise from his bed, seized a sheet, and, approaching the portrait, covered it up

Having done this, he lay done more at ease on his bed, and began to meditate upon the poverty and pitiful lot

of the artist, and the thorny path lying before him in the world. But meanwhile his eye glanced involuntarily

through the joint of the screen at the portrait muffled in the sheet. The light of the moon heightened the

whiteness of the sheet, and it seemed to him as though those terrible eyes shone through the cloth. With terror

he fixed his eyes more steadfastly on the spot, as if wishing to convince himself that it was all nonsense. But

at length he sawsaw clearly; there was no longer a sheetthe portrait was quite uncovered, and was

gazing beyond everything around it, straight at him; gazing as it seemed fairly into his heart. His heart grew

cold. He watched anxiously; the old man moved, and suddenly, supporting himself on the frame with both

arms, raised himself by his hands, and, putting forth both feet, leapt out of the frame. Through the crack of

the screen, the empty frame alone was now visible. Footsteps resounded through the room, and approached

nearer and nearer to the screen. The poor artist's heart began beating fast. He expected every moment, his

breath failing for fear, that the old man would look round the screen at him. And lo! he did look from behind

the screen, with the very same bronzed face, and with his big eyes roving about.

Tchartkoff tried to scream, and felt that his voice was gone; he tried to move; his limbs refused their office.

With open mouth, and failing breath, he gazed at the tall phantom, draped in some kind of a flowing Asiatic

robe, and waited for what it would do. The old man sat down almost on his very feet, and then pulled out

something from among the folds of his wide garment. It was a purse. The old man untied it, took it by the

end, and shook it. Heavy rolls of coin fell out with a dull thud upon the floor. Each was wrapped in blue

paper, and on each was marked, "1000 ducats." The old man protruded his long, bony hand from his wide

sleeves, and began to undo the rolls. The gold glittered. Great as was the artist's unreasoning fear, he

concentrated all his attention upon the gold, gazing motionless, as it made its appearance in the bony hands,

gleamed, rang lightly or dully, and was wrapped up again. Then he perceived one packet which had rolled

farther than the rest, to the very leg of his bedstead, near his pillow. He grasped it almost convulsively, and

But the old man appeared very much occupied: he collected all his rolls, replaced them in the purse, and went

outside the screen without looking at him. Tchartkoff's heart beat wildly as he heard the rustle of the

retreating footsteps sounding through the room. He clasped the roll of coin more closely in his hand,

quivering in every limb. Suddenly he heard the footsteps approaching the screen again. Apparently the old

man had recollected that one roll was missing. Lo! again he looked round the screen at him. The artist in

despair grasped the roll with all his strength, tried with all his power to make a movement, shriekedand

He was bathed in a cold perspiration; his heart beat as hard as it was possible for it to beat; his chest was

oppressed, as though his last breath was about to issue from it. "Was it a dream?" he said, seizing his head

with both hands. But the terrible reality of the apparition did not resemble a dream. As he woke, he saw the

old man step into the frame: the skirts of the flowing garment even fluttered, and his hand felt plainly that a

moment before it had held something heavy. The moonlight lit up the room, bringing out from the dark

corners here a canvas, there the model of a hand: a drapery thrown over a chair; trousers and dirty boots.

Then he perceived that he was not lying in his bed, but standing upright in front of the portrait. How he had

come there, he could not in the least comprehend. Still more surprised was he to find the portrait uncovered,

and with actually no sheet over it. Motionless with terror, he gazed at it, and perceived that the living, human

eyes were fastened upon him. A cold perspiration broke out upon his forehead. He wanted to move away, but

felt that his feet had in some way become rooted to the earth. And he felt that this was not a dream. The old

man's features moved, and his lips began to project towards him, as though he wanted to suck him in. With a

"Was it a dream?" With his heart throbbing to bursting, he felt about him with both hands. Yes, he was lying

in bed, and in precisely the position in which he had fallen asleep. Before him stood the screen. The

moonlight flooded the room. Through the crack of the screen, the portrait was visible, covered with the sheet,

as it should be, just as he had covered it. And so that, too, was a dream? But his clenched fist still felt as

though something had been held in it. The throbbing of his heart was violent, almost terrible; the weight upon

his breast intolerable. He fixed his eyes upon the crack, and stared steadfastly at the sheet. And lo! he saw

plainly the sheet begin to open, as though hands were pushing from underneath, and trying to throw it off.

And was this, too, a dream? He sprang from his bed, halfmad, and could not comprehend what had

happened to him. Was it the oppression of a nightmare, the raving of fever, or an actual apparition? Striving

to calm, as far as possible, his mental tumult, and stay the wildly rushing blood, which beat with straining

pulses in every vein, he went to the window and opened it. The cool breeze revived him. The moonlight lay

on the roofs and the white walls of the houses, though small clouds passed frequently across the sky. All was

still: from time to time there struck the ear the distant rumble of a carriage. He put his head out of the

window, and gazed for some time. Already the signs of approaching dawn were spreading over the sky. At

last he felt drowsy, shut to the window, stepped back, lay down in bed, and quickly fell, like one exhausted,

He awoke late, and with the disagreeable feeling of a man who has been halfsuffocated with coalgas: his

head ached painfully. The room was dim: an unpleasant moisture pervaded the air, and penetrated the cracks

of his windows. Dissatisfied and depressed as a wet cock, he seated himself on his dilapidated divan, not

knowing what to do, what to set about, and at length remembered the whole of his dream. As he recalled it,

the dream presented itself to his mind as so oppressively real that he even began to wonder whether it were a

dream, whether there were not something more here, whether it were not really an apparition. Removing the

sheet, he looked at the terrible portrait by the light of day. The eyes were really striking in their liveliness, but

he found nothing particularly terrible about them, though an indescribably unpleasant feeling lingered in his

mind. Nevertheless, he could not quite convince himself that it was a dream. It struck him that there must

have been some terrible fragment of reality in the vision. It seemed as though there were something in the old

man's very glance and expression which said that he had been with him that night: his hand still felt the

weight which had so recently lain in it as if some one had but just snatched it from him. It seemed to him that,

if he had only grasped the roll more firmly, it would have remained in his hand, even after his awakening.

"My God, if I only had a portion of that money!" he said, breathing heavily; and in his fancy, all the rolls of

coin, with their fascinating inscription, "1000 ducats," began to pour out of the purse. The rolls opened, the

gold glittered, and was wrapped up again; and he sat motionless, with his eyes fixed on the empty air, as if he

were incapable of tearing himself from such a sight, like a child who sits before a plate of sweets, and

At last there came a knock on the door, which recalled him unpleasantly to himself. The landlord entered

with the constable of the district, whose presence is even more disagreeable to poor people than is the

presence of a beggar to the rich. The landlord of the little house in which Tchartkoff lived resembled the

other individuals who own houses anywhere in the Vasilievsky Ostroff, on the St. Petersburg side, or in the

distant regions of Kolomnaindividuals whose character is as difficult to define as the colour of a

threadbare surtout. In his youth he had been a captain and a braggart, a master in the art of flogging, skilful,

foppish, and stupid; but in his old age he combined all these various qualities into a kind of dim

indefiniteness. He was a widower, already on the retired list, no longer boasted, nor was dandified, nor

quarrelled, but only cared to drink tea and talk all sorts of nonsense over it. He walked about his room, and

arranged the ends of the tallow candles; called punctually at the end of each month upon his lodgers for

money; went out into the street, with the key in his hand, to look at the roof of his house, and sometimes

chased the porter out of his den, where he had hidden himself to sleep. In short, he was a man on the retired

list, who, after the turmoils and wildness of his life, had only his oldfashioned habits left.

"Please to see for yourself, Varukh Kusmitch," said the landlord, turning to the officer, and throwing out his

"I can't wait, my good fellow," said the landlord angrily, making a gesture with the key which he held in his

hand. "LieutenantColonel Potogonkin has lived with me seven years, seven years already; Anna Petrovna

Buchmisteroff rents the coachhouse and stable, with the exception of two stalls, and has three household

servants: that is the kind of lodgers I have. I say to you frankly, that this is not an establishment where people

"Yes, if you rented the rooms, please to pay," said the constable, with a slight shake of the head, as he laid his

"Well, what am I to pay with? that's the question. I haven't a groschen just at present."

"In that case, satisfy the claims of Ivan Ivanovitch with the fruits of your profession," said the officer:

"No, thank you, my good fellow, no pictures. Pictures of holy subjects, such as one could hang upon the

walls, would be well enough; or some general with a star, or Prince Kutusoff's portrait. But this fellow has

painted that muzhik, that muzhik in his blouse, his servant who grinds his colours! The idea of painting his

portrait, the hog! I'll thrash him well: he took all the nails out of my bolts, the scoundrel! Just see what

subjects! Here he has drawn his room. It would have been well enough had he taken a clean, wellfurnished

room; but he has gone and drawn this one, with all the dirt and rubbish he has collected. Just see how he has

defaced my room! Look for yourself. Yes, and my lodgers have been with me seven years, the

lieutenantcolonel, Anna Petrovna Buchmisteroff. No, I tell you, there is no worse lodger than a painter: he

The poor artist had to listen patiently to all this. Meanwhile the officer had occupied himself with examining

the pictures and studies, and showed that his mind was more advanced than the landlord's, and that he was

"Heh!" said he, tapping one canvas, on which was depicted a naked woman, "this subject islively. But why

"But it might have been put in some other place: it is too conspicuous under the nose," observed the officer.

"And whose likeness is this?" he continued, approaching the old man's portrait. "It is too terrible. Was he

really so dreadful? Ah! why, he actually looks at one! What a thundercloud! From whom did you paint it?"

"Ah! it is from a" said Tchartkoff, but did not finish his sentence: he heard a crack. It seems that the officer

had pressed too hard on the frame of the portrait, thanks to the weight of his constable's hands. The small

boards at the side caved in, one fell on the floor, and with it fell, with a heavy crash, a roll of blue paper. The

inscription caught Tchartkoff's eye"1000 ducats." Like a madman, he sprang to pick it up, grasped the roll,

"Wasn't there a sound of money?" inquired the officer, hearing the noise of something falling on the floor,

and not catching sight of it, owing to the rapidity with which Tchartkoff had hastened to pick it up.

"It's my business because you ought to pay your rent to the landlord at once; because you have money, and

"Well, and why wouldn't you pay before, instead of giving trouble to your landlord, and bothering the police

"Because I did not want to touch this money. I will pay him in full this evening, and leave the rooms

"Well, Ivan Ivanovitch, he will pay you," said the constable, turning to the landlord. "But in case you are not

satisfied in every respect this evening, then you must excuse me, Mr. Painter." So saying, he put on his

threecornered hat, and went into the anteroom, followed by the landlord hanging his head, and apparently

"Thank God, Satan has carried them off!" said Tchartkoff, as he heard the outer door of the anteroom close.

He looked out into the anteroom, sent Nikita off on some errand, in order to be quite alone, fastened the

door behind him, and, returning to his room, began with wildly beating heart to undo the roll.

In it were ducats, all new, and bright as fire. Almost beside himself, he sat down beside the pile of gold, still

asking himself, "Is not this all a dream?" There were just a thousand in the roll, the exterior of which was

precisely like what he had seen in his dream. He turned them over, and looked at them for some minutes. His

imagination recalled up all the tales he had heard of hidden hoards, cabinets with secret drawers, left by

ancestors for their spendthrift descendants, with firm belief in the extravagance of their life. He pondered

this: "Did not some grandfather, in the present instance, leave a gift for his grandchild, shut up in the frame of

a family portrait?" Filled with romantic fancies, he began to think whether this had not some secret

connection with his fate? whether the existence of the portrait was not bound up with his own, and whether

He began to examine the frame with curiosity. On one side a cavity was hollowed out, but concealed so

skilfully and neatly by a little board, that, if the massive hand of the constable had not effected a breach, the

ducats might have remained hidden to the end of time. On examining the portrait, he marvelled again at the

exquisite workmanship, the extraordinary treatment of the eyes. They no longer appeared terrible to him; but,

nevertheless, each time he looked at them a disagreeable feeling involuntarily lingered in his mind.

"No," he said to himself, "no matter whose grandfather you were, I'll put a glass over you, and get you a gilt

frame." Then he laid his hand on the golden pile before him, and his heart beat faster at the touch. "What

shall I do with them?" he said, fixing his eyes on them. "Now I am independent for at least three years: I can

shut myself up in my room and work. I have money for colours now; for food and lodgingno one will

annoy and disturb me now. I will buy myself a firstclass lay figure, I will order a plaster torso, and some

model feet, I will have a Venus. I will buy engravings of the best pictures. And if I work three years to satisfy

myself, without haste or with the idea of selling, I shall surpass all, and may become a distinguished artist."

Thus he spoke in solitude, with his good judgment prompting him; but louder and more distinct sounded

another voice within him. As he glanced once more at the gold, it was not thus that his twentytwo years and

fiery youth reasoned. Now everything was within his power on which he had hitherto gazed with envious

eyes, had viewed from afar with longing. How his heart beat when he thought of it! To wear a fashionable

coat, to feast after long abstinence, to hire handsome apartments, to go at once to the theatre, to the

confectioner's, to . . . other places; and seizing his money, he was in the street in a moment.

First of all he went to the tailor, was clothed anew from head to foot, and began to look at himself like a

child. He purchased perfumes and pomades; hired the first elegant suite of apartments with mirrors and

plateglass windows which he came across in the Nevsky Prospect, without haggling about the price; bought,

on the impulse of the moment, a costly eyeglass; bought, also on the impulse, a number of neckties of every

description, many more than he needed; had his hair curled at the hairdresser's; rode through the city twice

without any object whatever; ate an immense quantity of sweetmeats at the confectioner's; and went to the

French Restaurant, of which he had heard rumours as indistinct as though they had concerned the Empire of

China. There he dined, casting proud glances at the other visitors, and continually arranging his curls in the

glass. There he drank a bottle of champagne, which had been known to him hitherto only by hearsay. The

wine rather affected his head; and he emerged into the street, lively, pugnacious, and ready to raise the Devil,

according to the Russian expression. He strutted along the pavement, levelling his eyeglass at everybody.

On the bridge he caught sight of his former professor, and slipped past him neatly, as if he did not see him, so

that the astounded professor stood stockstill on the bridge for a long time, with a face suggestive of a note of

All his goods and chattels, everything he owned, easels, canvas, pictures, were transported that same evening

to his elegant quarters. He arranged the best of them in conspicuous places, threw the worst into a corner, and

promenaded up and down the handsome rooms, glancing constantly in the mirrors. An unconquerable desire

to take the bull by the horns, and show himself to the world at once, had arisen in his mind. He already heard

the shouts, "Tchartkoff! Tchartkoff! Tchartkoff paints! What talent Tchartkoff has!" He paced the room in a

The next day he took ten ducats, and went to the editor of a popular journal asking his charitable assistance.

He was joyfully received by the journalist, who called him on the spot, "Most respected sir," squeezed both

his hands, and made minute inquiries as to his name, birthplace, residence. The next day there appeared in the

journal, below a notice of some newly invented tallow candles, an article with the following heading:

"We hasten to delight the cultivated inhabitants of the capital with a discovery which we may call splendid in

every respect. All are agreed that there are among us many very handsome faces, but hitherto there has been

no means of committing them to canvas for transmission to posterity. This want has now been supplied: an

artist has been found who unites in himself all desirable qualities. The beauty can now feel assured that she

will be depicted with all the grace of her charms, airy, fascinating, butterflylike, flitting among the flowers

of spring. The stately father of a family can see himself surrounded by his family. Merchant, warrior, citizen,

statesmanhasten one and all, wherever you may be. The artist's magnificent establishment [Nevsky

Prospect, such and such a number] is hung with portraits from his brush, worthy of Van Dyck or Titian. We

do not know which to admire most, their truth and likeness to the originals, or the wonderful brilliancy and

freshness of the colouring. Hail to you, artist! you have drawn a lucky number in the lottery. Long live

Andrei Petrovitch!" (The journalist evidently liked familiarity.) "Glorify yourself and us. We know how to

prize you. Universal popularity, and with it wealth, will be your meed, though some of our brother journalists

The artist read this article with secret satisfaction; his face beamed. He was mentioned in print; it was a

novelty to him: he read the lines over several times. The comparison with Van Dyck and Titian flattered him

extremely. The praise, "Long live Andrei Petrovitch," also pleased him greatly: to be spoken of by his

Christian name and patronymic in print was an honour hitherto totally unknown to him. He began to pace the

chamber briskly, now he sat down in an armchair, now he sprang up, and seated himself on the sofa, planning

each moment how he would receive visitors, male and female; he went to his canvas and made a rapid sweep

The next day, the bell at his door rang. He hastened to open it. A lady entered, accompanied by a girl of

"A great deal is written about you: your portraits, it is said, are the height of perfection." So saying, the lady

raised her glass to her eyes and glanced rapidly over the walls, upon which nothing was hanging. "But where

"They have been taken away" replied the artist, somewhat confusedly: "I have but just moved into these

"You have been in Italy?" asked the lady, levelling her glass at him, as she found nothing else to point it at.

"No, I have not been there; but I wish to go, and I have deferred it for a while. Here is an armchair,

"Thank you: I have been sitting a long time in the carriage. Ah, at last I behold your work!" said the lady,

running to the opposite wall, and bringing her glass to bear upon his studies, sketches, views and portraits

which were standing there on the floor. "It is charming. Lise! Lise, come here. Rooms in the style of Teniers.

Do you see? Disorder, disorder, a table with a bust upon it, a hand, a palette; dust, see how the dust is

painted! It is charming. And here on this canvas is a woman washing her face. What a pretty face! Ah! a little

"Tell me your opinion of the portrait painters of the present day. Is it not true that there are none now like

Titian? There is not that strength of colour, thatthat What a pity that I cannot express myself in

Russian." The lady was fond of paintings, and had gone through all the galleries in Italy with her eyeglass.

"But Monsieur Nohlah, how well he paints! what remarkable work! I think his faces have been more

"Monsieur Nohl. Ah, what talent! He painted her portrait when she was only twelve years old. You must

certainly come to see us. Lise, you shall show him your album. You know, we came expressly that you might

"What? I am ready this very moment." And in a trice he pulled forward an easel with a canvas already

prepared, grasped his palette, and fixed his eyes on the daughter's pretty little face. If he had been acquainted

with human nature, he might have read in it the dawning of a childish passion for balls, the dawning of

sorrow and misery at the length of time before dinner and after dinner, the heavy traces of uninterested

application to various arts, insisted upon by her mother for the elevation of her mind. But the artist saw only

the tender little face, a seductive subject for his brush, the body almost as transparent as porcelain, the

delicate white neck, and the aristocratically slender form. And he prepared beforehand to triumph, to display

the delicacy of his brush, which had hitherto had to deal only with the harsh features of coarse models, and

severe antiques and copies of classic masters. He already saw in fancy how this delicate little face would turn

"Do you know," said the lady with a positively touching expression of countenance, "I should like her to be

painted simply attired, and seated among green shadows, like meadows, with a flock or a grove in the

distance, so that it could not be seen that she goes to balls or fashionable entertainments. Our balls, I must

confess, murder the intellect, deaden all remnants of feeling. Simplicity! would there were more simplicity!"

Alas, it was stamped on the faces of mother and daughter that they had so overdanced themselves at balls that

Tchartkoff set to work, posed his model, reflected a bit, fixed upon the idea, waved his brush in the air,

settling the points mentally, and then began and finished the sketching in within an hour. Satisfied with it, he

began to paint. The task fascinated him; he forgot everything, forgot the very existence of the aristocratic

ladies, began even to display some artistic tricks, uttering various odd sounds and humming to himself now

and then as artists do when immersed heart and soul in their work. Without the slightest ceremony, he made

"No, it is time to stop. Lise, three o'clock!" said the lady, taking out a tiny watch which hung by a gold chain

"Only a minute," said Tchartkoff innocently, with the pleading voice of a child.

But the lady appeared to be not at all inclined to yield to his artistic demands on this occasion; she promised,

"It is vexatious, all the same," thought Tchartkoff to himself: "I had just got my hand in;" and he remembered

no one had interrupted him or stopped him when he was at work in his studio on Vasilievsky Ostroff. Nikita

sat motionless in one place. You might even paint him as long as you pleased; he even went to sleep in the

attitude prescribed him. Feeling dissatisfied, he laid his brush and palette on a chair, and paused in irritation

The woman of the world's compliments awoke him from his reverie. He flew to the door to show them out:

on the stairs he received an invitation to dine with them the following week, and returned with a cheerful face

to his apartments. The aristocratic lady had completely charmed him. Up to that time he had looked upon

such beings as unapproachable, born solely to ride in magnificent carriages, with liveried footmen and stylish

coachmen, and to cast indifferent glances on the poor man travelling on foot in a cheap cloak. And now, all of

a sudden, one of these very beings had entered his room; he was painting her portrait, was invited to dinner at

an aristocratic house. An unusual feeling of pleasure took possession of him: he was completely intoxicated,

and rewarded himself with a splendid dinner, an evening at the theatre, and a drive through the city in a

But meanwhile his ordinary work did not fall in with his mood at all. He did nothing but wait for the moment

when the bell should ring. At last the aristocratic lady arrived with her pale daughter. He seated them, drew

forward the canvas with skill, and some efforts of fashionable airs, and began to paint. The sunny day and

bright light aided him not a little: he saw in his dainty sitter much which, caught and committed to canvas,

would give great value to the portrait. He perceived that he might accomplish something good if he could

reproduce, with accuracy, all that nature then offered to his eyes. His heart began to beat faster as he felt that

he was expressing something which others had not even seen as yet. His work engrossed him completely: he

was wholly taken up with it, and again forgot the aristocratic origin of the sitter. With heaving breast he saw

the delicate features and the almost transparent body of the fair maiden grow beneath his hand. He had caught

every shade, the slight sallowness, the almost imperceptible blue tinge under the eyesand was already

preparing to put in the tiny mole on the brow, when he suddenly heard the mother's voice behind him.

"Ah! why do you paint that? it is not necessary: and you have made it here, in several places, rather yellow;

The artist undertook to explain that the spots and yellow tinge would turn out well, that they brought out the

delicate and pleasing tones of the face. He was informed that they did not bring out tones, and would not turn

out well at all. It was explained to him that just today Lise did not feel quite well; that she never was sallow,

Sadly he began to erase what his brush had put upon the canvas. Many a nearly imperceptible feature

disappeared, and with it vanished too a portion of the resemblance. He began indifferently to impart to the

picture that commonplace colouring which can be painted mechanically, and which lends to a face, even

when taken from nature, the sort of cold ideality observable on school programmes. But the lady was satisfied

when the objectionable tone was quite banished. She merely expressed surprise that the work lasted so long,

and added that she had heard that he finished a portrait completely in two sittings. The artist could not think

of any answer to this. The ladies rose, and prepared to depart. He laid aside his brush, escorted them to the

door, and then stood disconsolate for a long while in one spot before the portrait.

He gazed stupidly at it; and meanwhile there floated before his mind's eye those delicate features, those

shades, and airy tints which he had copied, and which his brush had annihilated. Engrossed with them, he put

the portrait on one side and hunted up a head of Psyche which he had some time before thrown on canvas in a

sketchy manner. It was a pretty little face, well painted, but entirely ideal, and having cold, regular features

not lit up by life. For lack of occupation, he now began to tone it up, imparting to it all he had taken note of in

his aristocratic sitter. Those features, shadows, tints, which he had noted, made their appearance here in the

purified form in which they appear when the painter, after closely observing nature, subordinates himself to

Psyche began to live: and the scarcely dawning thought began, little by little, to clothe itself in a visible form.

The type of face of the fashionable young lady was unconsciously transferred to Psyche, yet nevertheless she

had an expression of her own which gave the picture claims to be considered in truth an original creation.

Tchartkoff gave himself up entirely to his work. For several days he was engrossed by it alone, and the ladies

surprised him at it on their arrival. He had not time to remove the picture from the easel. Both ladies uttered a

"Lise, Lise! Ah, how like! Superb, superb! What a happy thought, too, to drape her in a Greek costume! Ah,

The artist could not see his way to disabuse the ladies of their error. Shamefacedly, with drooping head, he

"In the character of Psyche? Charming!" said the mother, smiling, upon which the daughter smiled too.

"Confess, Lise, it pleases you to be painted in the character of Psyche better than any other way? What a

sweet idea! But what treatment! It is Correggio himself. I must say that, although I had read and heard about

you, I did not know you had so much talent. You positively must paint me too." Evidently the lady wanted to

"What am I to do with them?" thought the artist. "If they will have it so, why, let Psyche pass for what they

choose:" and added aloud, "Pray sit a little: I will touch it up here and there."

But the artist understood that the difficulty was with respect to the sallowness, and so he reassured them by

saying that he only wished to give more brilliancy and expression to the eyes. In truth, he was ashamed, and

wanted to impart a little more likeness to the original, lest any one should accuse him of actual barefaced

flattery. And the features of the pale young girl at length appeared more closely in Psyche's countenance.

"Enough," said the mother, beginning to fear that the likeness might become too decided. The artist was

remunerated in every way, with smiles, money, compliments, cordial pressures of the hand, invitations to

The portrait created a furore in the city. The lady exhibited it to her friends, and all admired the skill with

which the artist had preserved the likeness, and at the same time conferred more beauty on the original. The

last remark, of course, was prompted by a slight tinge of envy. The artist was suddenly overwhelmed with

work. It seemed as if the whole city wanted to be painted by him. The doorbell rang incessantly. From one

point of view, this might be considered advantageous, as presenting to him endless practice in variety and

number of faces. But, unfortunately, they were all people who were hard to get along with, either busy,

hurried people, or else belonging to the fashionable world, and consequently more occupied than any one

else, and therefore impatient to the last degree. In all quarters, the demand was merely that the likeness

should be good and quickly executed. The artist perceived that it was a simple impossibility to finish his

work; that it was necessary to exchange power of treatment for lightness and rapidity, to catch only the

Moreover, nearly all of his sitters made stipulations on various points. The ladies required that mind and

character should be represented in their portraits; that all angles should be rounded, all unevenness smoothed

away, and even removed entirely if possible; in short, that their faces should be such as to cause every one to

stare at them with admiration, if not fall in love with them outright. When they sat to him, they sometimes

assumed expressions which greatly amazed the artist; one tried to express melancholy; another, meditation; a

third wanted to make her mouth appear small on any terms, and puckered it up to such an extent that it finally

looked like a spot about as big as a pinhead. And in spite of all this, they demanded of him good likenesses

and unconstrained naturalness. The men were no better: one insisted on being painted with an energetic,

muscular turn to his head; another, with upturned, inspired eyes; a lieutenant of the guard demanded that

Mars should be visible in his eyes; an official in the civil service drew himself up to his full height in order to

have his uprightness expressed in his face, and that his hand might rest on a book bearing the words in plain

At first such demands threw the artist into a cold perspiration. Finally he acquired the knack of it, and never

troubled himself at all about it. He understood at a word how each wanted himself portrayed. If a man wanted

Mars in his face, he put in Mars: he gave a Byronic turn and attitude to those who aimed at Byron. If the

ladies wanted to be Corinne, Undine, or Aspasia, he agreed with great readiness, and threw in a sufficient

measure of good looks from his own imagination, which does no harm, and for the sake of which an artist is

even forgiven a lack of resemblance. He soon began to wonder himself at the rapidity and dash of his brush.

And of course those who sat to him were in ecstasies, and proclaimed him a genius.

Tchartkoff became a fashionable artist in every sense of the word. He began to dine out, to escort ladies to

picture galleries, to dress foppishly, and to assert audibly that an artist should belong to society, that he must

uphold his profession, that artists mostly dress like showmakers, do not know how to behave themselves, do

not maintain the highest tone, and are lacking in all polish. At home, in his studio, he carried cleanliness and

spotlessness to the last extreme, set up two superb footmen, took fashionable pupils, dressed several times a

day, curled his hair, practised various manners of receiving his callers, and busied himself in adorning his

person in every conceivable way, in order to produce a pleasing impression on the ladies. In short, it would

soon have been impossible for any one to have recognised in him the modest artist who had formerly toiled

He now expressed himself decidedly concerning artists and art; declared that too much credit had been given

to the old masters; that even Raphael did not always paint well, and that fame attached to many of his works

simply by force of tradition: that Michael Angelo was a braggart because he could boast only a knowledge of

anatomy; that there was no grace about him, and that real brilliancy and power of treatment and colouring

were to be looked for in the present century. And there, naturally, the question touched him personally. "I do

not understand," said he, "how others toil and work with difficulty: a man who labours for months over a

picture is a dauber, and no artist in my opinion; I don't believe he has any talent: genius works boldly,

rapidly. Here is this portrait which I painted in two days, this head in one day, this in a few hours, this in little

more than an hour. No, I confess I do not recognise as art that which adds line to line; that is a handicraft, not

art." In this manner did he lecture his visitors; and the visitors admired the strength and boldness of his

works, uttered exclamations on hearing how fast they had been produced, and said to each other, "This is

talent, real talent! see how he speaks, how his eyes gleam! There is something really extraordinary in his

It flattered the artist to hear such reports about himself. When printed praise appeared in the papers, he

rejoiced like a child, although this praise was purchased with his money. He carried the printed slips about

with him everywhere, and showed them to friends and acquaintances as if by accident. His fame increased,

his works and orders multiplied. Already the same portraits over and over again wearied him, by the same

attitudes and turns, which he had learned by heart. He painted them now without any great interest in his

work, brushing in some sort of a head, and giving them to his pupil's to finish. At first he had sought to devise

a new attitude each time. Now this had grown wearisome to him. His brain was tired with planning and

thinking. It was out of his power; his fashionable life bore him far away from labour and thought. His work

grew cold and colourless; and he betook himself with indifference to the reproduction of monotonous,

wellworn forms. The eternally spickandspan uniforms, and the sotospeak buttonedup faces of the

government officials, soldiers, and statesmen, did not offer a wide field for his brush: it forgot how to render

superb draperies and powerful emotion and passion. Of grouping, dramatic effect and its lofty connections,

there was nothing. In face of him was only a uniform, a corsage, a dresscoat, and before which the artist

feels cold and all imagination vanishes. Even his own peculiar merits were no longer visible in his works, yet

they continued to enjoy renown; although genuine connoisseurs and artists merely shrugged their shoulders

when they saw his latest productions. But some who had known Tchartkoff in his earlier days could not

understand how the talent of which he had given such clear indications in the outset could so have vanished;

and strove in vain to divine by what means genius could be extinguished in a man just when he had attained

But the intoxicated artist did not hear these criticisms. He began to attain to the age of dignity, both in mind

and years: to grow stout, and increase visibly in flesh. He often read in the papers such phrases as, "Our most

respected Andrei Petrovitch; our worthy Andrei Petrovitch." He began to receive offers of distinguished posts

in the service, invitations to examinations and committees. He began, as is usually the case in maturer years,

to advocate Raphael and the old masters, not because he had become thoroughly convinced of their

transcendent merits, but in order to snub the younger artists. His life was already approaching the period

when everything which suggests impulse contracts within a man; when a powerful chord appeals more feebly

to the spirit; when the touch of beauty no longer converts virgin strength into fire and flame, but when all the

burntout sentiments become more vulnerable to the sound of gold, hearken more attentively to its seductive

music, and little by little permit themselves to be completely lulled to sleep by it. Fame can give no pleasure

to him who has stolen it, not won it; so all his feelings and impulses turned towards wealth. Gold was his

passion, his ideal, his fear, his delight, his aim. The bundles of banknotes increased in his coffers; and, like

all to whose lot falls this fearful gift, he began to grow inaccessible to every sentiment except the love of

gold. But something occurred which gave him a powerful shock, and disturbed the whole tenor of his life.

One day he found upon his table a note, in which the Academy of Painting begged him, as a worthy member

of its body, to come and give his opinion upon a new work which had been sent from Italy by a Russian artist

who was perfecting himself there. The painter was one of his former comrades, who had been possessed with

a passion for art from his earliest years, had given himself up to it with his whole soul, estranged himself

from his friends and relatives, and had hastened to that wonderful Rome, at whose very name the artist's heart

beats wildly and hotly. There he buried himself in his work from which he permitted nothing to entice him.

He visited the galleries unweariedly, he stood for hours at a time before the works of the great masters,

seizing and studying their marvellous methods. He never finished anything without revising his impressions

several times before these great teachers, and reading in their works silent but eloquent counsels. He gave

each impartially his due, appropriating from all only that which was most beautiful, and finally became the

pupil of the divine Raphael alone, as a great poet, after reading many works, at last made Homer's "Iliad" his

only breviary, having discovered that it contains all one wants, and that there is nothing which is not

expressed in it in perfection. And so he brought away from his school the grand conception of creation, the

When Tchartkoff entered the room, he found a crowd of visitors already collected before the picture. The

most profound silence, such as rarely settles upon a throng of critics, reigned over all. He hastened to assume

the significant expression of a connoisseur, and approached the picture; but, O God! what did he behold!

Pure, faultless, beautiful as a bride, stood the picture before him. The critics regarded this new hitherto

unknown work with a feeling of involuntary wonder. All seemed united in it: the art of Raphael, reflected in

the lofty grace of the grouping; the art of Correggio, breathing from the finished perfection of the

workmanship. But more striking than all else was the evident creative power in the artist's mind. The very

minutest object in the picture revealed it; he had caught that melting roundness of outline which is visible in

nature only to the artist creator, and which comes out as angles with a copyist. It was plainly visible how the

artist, having imbibed it all from the external world, had first stored it in his mind, and then drawn it thence,

as from a spiritual source, into one harmonious, triumphant song. And it was evident, even to the uninitiated,

how vast a gulf there was fixed between creation and a mere copy from nature. Involuntary tears stood ready

to fall in the eyes of those who surrounded the picture. It seemed as though all joined in a silent hymn to the

Motionless, with open mouth, Tchartkoff stood before the picture. At length, when by degrees the visitors

and critics began to murmur and comment upon the merits of the work, and turning to him, begged him to

express an opinion, he came to himself once more. He tried to assume an indifferent, everyday expression;

strove to utter some such commonplace remark as; "Yes, to tell the truth, it is impossible to deny the artist's

talent; there is something in it;" but the speech died upon his lips, tears and sobs burst forth uncontrollably,

In a moment he stood in his magnificent studio. All his being, all his life, had been aroused in one instant, as

if youth had returned to him, as if the dying sparks of his talent had blazed forth afresh. The bandage

suddenly fell from his eyes. Heavens! to think of having mercilessly wasted the best years of his youth, of

having extinguished, trodden out perhaps, that spark of fire which, cherished in his breast, might perhaps

have been developed into magnificence and beauty, and have extorted too, its meed of tears and admiration!

It seemed as though those impulses which he had known in other days reawoke suddenly in his soul.

He seized a brush and approached his canvas. One thought possessed him wholly, one desire consumed him;

he strove to depict a fallen angel. This idea was most in harmony with his frame of mind. The perspiration

started out upon his face with his efforts; but, alas! his figures, attitudes, groups, thoughts, arranged

themselves stiffly, disconnectedly. His hand and his imagination had been too long confined to one groove;

and the fruitless effort to escape from the bonds and fetters which he had imposed upon himself, showed

itself in irregularities and errors. He had despised the long, wearisome ladder to knowledge, and the first

fundamental law of the future great man, hard work. He gave vent to his vexation. He ordered all his later

productions to be taken out of his studio, all the fashionable, lifeless pictures, all the portraits of hussars,

He shut himself up alone in his room, would order no food, and devoted himself entirely to his work. He sat

toiling like a scholar. But how pitifully wretched was all which proceeded from his hand! He was stopped at

every step by his ignorance of the very first principles: simple ignorance of the mechanical part of his art

chilled all inspiration and formed an impassable barrier to his imagination. His brush returned involuntarily to

hackneyed forms: hands folded themselves in a set attitude; heads dared not make any unusual turn; the very

garments turned out commonplace, and would not drape themselves to any unaccustomed posture of the

"But had I really any talent?" he said at length: "did not I deceive myself?" Uttering these words, he turned to

the early works which he had painted so purely, so unselfishly, in former days, in his wretched cabin yonder

in lonely Vasilievsky Ostroff. He began attentively to examine them all; and all the misery of his former life

came back to him. "Yes," he cried despairingly, "I had talent: the signs and traces of it are everywhere

He paused suddenly, and shivered all over. His eyes encountered other eyes fixed immovably upon him. It

was that remarkable portrait which he had bought in the Shtchukinui Dvor. All this time it had been covered

up, concealed by other pictures, and had utterly gone out of his mind. Now, as if by design, when all the

fashionable portraits and paintings had been removed from the studio, it looked forth, together with the

productions of his early youth. As he recalled all the strange events connected with it; as he remembered that

this singular portrait had been, in a manner, the cause of his errors; that the hoard of money which he had

obtained in such peculiar fashion had given birth in his mind to all the wild caprices which had destroyed his

talentmadness was on the point of taking possession of him. At once he ordered the hateful portrait to be

But his mental excitement was not thereby diminished. His whole being was shaken to its foundation; and he

suffered that fearful torture which is sometimes exhibited when a feeble talent strives to display itself on a

scale too great for it and cannot do so. A horrible envy took possession of himan envy which bordered on

madness. The gall flew to his heart when he beheld a work which bore the stamp of talent. He gnashed his

teeth, and devoured it with the glare of a basilisk. He conceived the most devilish plan which ever entered

into the mind of man, and he hastened with the strength of madness to carry it into execution. He began to

purchase the best that art produced of every kind. Having bought a picture at a great price, he transported it to

his room, flung himself upon it with the ferocity of a tiger, cut it, tore it, chopped it into bits, and stamped

The vast wealth he had amassed enabled him to gratify this devilish desire. He opened his bags of gold and

unlocked his coffers. No monster of ignorance ever destroyed so many superb productions of art as did this

raging avenger. At any auction where he made his appearance, every one despaired at once of obtaining any

work of art. It seemed as if an angry heaven had sent this fearful scourge into the world expressly to destroy

all harmony. Scorn of the world was expressed in his countenance. His tongue uttered nothing save biting and

censorious words. He swooped down like a harpy into the street: and his acquaintances, catching sight of him

in the distance, sought to turn aside and avoid a meeting with him, saying that it poisoned all the rest of the

Fortunately for the world and art, such a life could not last long: his passions were too overpowering for his

feeble strength. Attacks of madness began to recur more frequently, and ended at last in the most frightful

illness. A violent fever, combined with galloping consumption, seized upon him with such violence, that in

three days there remained only a shadow of his former self. To this was added indications of hopeless

insanity. Sometimes several men were unable to hold him. The longforgotten, living eyes of the portrait

began to torment him, and then his madness became dreadful. All the people who surrounded his bed seemed

to him horrible portraits. The portrait doubled and quadrupled itself; all the walls seemed hung with portraits,

which fastened their living eyes upon him; portraits glared at him from the ceiling, from the floor; the room

widened and lengthened endlessly, in order to make room for more of the motionless eyes. The doctor who

had undertaken to attend him, having learned something of his strange history, strove with all his might to

fathom the secret connection between the visions of his fancy and the occurrences of his life, but without the

slightest success. The sick man understood nothing, felt nothing, save his own tortures, and gave utterance

only to frightful yells and unintelligible gibberish. At last his life ended in a final attack of unutterable

suffering. Nothing could be found of all his great wealth; but when they beheld the mutilated fragments of

grand works of art, the value of which exceeded a million, they understood the terrible use which had been

A THRONG of carriages and other vehicles stood at the entrance of a house in which an auction was going

on of the effects of one of those wealthy artlovers who have innocently passed for Maecenases, and in a

simpleminded fashion expended, to that end, the millions amassed by their thrifty fathers, and frequently

even by their own early labours. The long saloon was filled with the most motley throng of visitors, collected

like birds of prey swooping down upon an unburied corpse. There was a whole squadron of Russian

shopkeepers from the Gostinnui Dvor, and from the oldclothes mart, in blue coats of foreign make. Their

faces and expressions were a little more natural here, and did not display that fictitious desire to be

subservient which is so marked in the Russian shopkeeper when he stands before a customer in his shop.

Here they stood upon no ceremony, although the saloons were full of those very aristocrats before whom, in

any other place, they would have been ready to sweep, with reverence, the dust brought in by their feet. They

were quite at their ease, handling pictures and books without ceremony, when desirous of ascertaining the

value of the goods, and boldly upsetting bargains mentally secured in advance by noble connoisseurs. There

were many of those infallible attendants of auctions who make it a point to go to one every day as regularly

as to take their breakfast; aristocratic connoisseurs who look upon it as their duty not to miss any opportunity

of adding to their collections, and who have no other occupation between twelve o'clock and one; and noble

gentlemen, with garments very threadbare, who make their daily appearance without any selfish object in

A quantity of pictures were lying about in disorder: with them were mingled furniture, and books with the

cipher of the former owner, who never was moved by any laudable desire to glance into them. Chinese vases,

marble slabs for tables, old and new furniture with curving lines, with griffins, sphinxes, and lions' paws,

gilded and ungilded, chandeliers, sconces, all were heaped together in a perfect chaos of art.

The surging throng was competing for a portrait which could not but arrest the attention of all who possessed

any knowledge of art. The skilled hand of an artist was plainly visible in it. The portrait, which had

apparently been several times restored and renovated, represented the dark features of an Asiatic in flowing

garments, and with a strange and remarkable expression of countenance; but what struck the buyers more

than anything else was the peculiar liveliness of the eyes. The more they were looked at, the more did they

seem to penetrate into the gazer's heart. This peculiarity, this strange illusion achieved by the artist, attracted

the attention of nearly all. Many who had been bidding gradually withdrew, for the price offered had risen to

an incredible sum. There remained only two wellknown aristocrats, amateurs of painting, who were

unwilling to forego such an acquisition. They grew warm, and would probably have run the bidding up to an

impossible sum, had not one of the onlookers suddenly exclaimed, "Permit me to interrupt your competition

These words at once drew the attention of all to him. He was a tall man of thirtyfive, with long black curls.

His pleasant face, full of a certain bright nonchalance, indicated a mind free from all wearisome, worldly

excitement; his garments had no pretence to fashion: all about him indicated the artist. He was, in fact, B. the

"However strange my words may seem to you," he continued, perceiving that the general attention was

directed to him, "if you will listen to a short story, you may possibly see that I was right in uttering them.

A natural curiosity illuminated the faces of nearly all present; and even the auctioneer paused as he was

opening his mouth, and with hammer uplifted in the air, prepared to listen. At the beginning of the story,

many glanced involuntarily towards the portrait; but later on, all bent their attention solely on the narrator, as

"You know that portion of the city which is called Kolomna," he began. "There everything is unlike anything

else in St. Petersburg. Retired officials remove thither to live; widows; people not very well off, who have

acquaintances in the senate, and therefore condemn themselves to this for nearly the whole of their lives; and,

in short, that whole list of people who can be described by the words ashcolouredpeople whose garments,

faces, hair, eyes, have a sort of ashy surface, like a day when there is in the sky neither cloud nor sun. Among

them may be retired actors, retired titular councillors, retired sons of Mars, with ruined eyes and swollen lips.

"Life in Kolomna is terribly dull: rarely does a carriage appear, except, perhaps, one containing an actor,

which disturbs the universal stillness by its rumble, noise, and jingling. You can get lodgings for five rubles a

month, coffee in the morning included. Widows with pensions are the most aristocratic families there; they

conduct themselves well, sweep their rooms often, chatter with their friends about the dearness of beef and

cabbage, and frequently have a young daughter, a taciturn, quiet, sometimes pretty creature; an ugly dog, and

wallclocks which strike in a melancholy fashion. Then come the actors whose salaries do not permit them to

desert Kolomna, an independent folk, living, like all artists, for pleasure. They sit in their dressinggowns,

cleaning their pistols, gluing together all sorts of things out of cardboard, playing draughts and cards with any

friend who chances to drop in, and so pass away the morning, doing pretty nearly the same in the evening,

with the addition of punch now and then. After these great people and aristocracy of Kolomna, come the rank

and file. It is as difficult to put a name to them as to remember the multitude of insects which breed in stale

vinegar. There are old women who get drunk, who make a living by incomprehensible means, like ants,

dragging old clothes and rags from the Kalinkin Bridge to the old clothesmart, in order to sell them for

fifteen kopeksin short, the very dregs of mankind, whose conditions no beneficent, political economist has

"I have mentioned them in order to point out how often such people find themselves under the necessity of

seeking immediate temporary assistance and having recourse to borrowing. Hence there settles among them a

peculiar race of moneylenders who lend small sums on security at an enormous percentage. Among these

usurers was a certain . . . but I must not omit to mention that the occurrence which I have undertaken to relate

occurred the last century, in the reign of our late Empress Catherine the Second. So, among the usurers, at

that epoch, was a certain personan extraordinary being in every respect, who had settled in that quarter of

the city long before. He went about in flowing Asiatic garb; his dark complexion indicated a Southern origin,

but to what particular nation he belonged, India, Greece, or Persia, no one could say with certainty. Of tall,

almost colossal stature, with dark, thin, ardent face, heavy overhanging brows, and an indescribably strange

colour in his large eyes of unwonted fire, he differed sharply and strongly from all the ashcoloured denizens

"His very dwelling was unlike the other little wooden houses. It was of stone, in the style of those formerly

much affected by Genoese merchants, with irregular windows of various sizes, secured with iron shutters and

bars. This usurer differed from other usurers also in that he could furnish any required sum, from that desired

by the poor old beggarwoman to that demanded by the extravagant grandee of the court. The most gorgeous

equipages often halted in front of his house, and from their windows sometimes peeped forth the head of an

elegant highborn lady. Rumour, as usual, reported that his iron coffers were full of untold gold, treasures,

diamonds, and all sorts of pledges, but that, nevertheless, he was not the slave of that avarice which is

characteristic of other usurers. He lent money willingly, and on very favourable terms of payment apparently,

but, by some curious method of reckoning, made them mount to an incredible percentage. So said rumour, at

any rate. But what was strangest of all was the peculiar fate of those who received money from him: they all

ended their lives in some unhappy way. Whether this was simply the popular superstition, or the result of

reports circulated with an object, is not known. But several instances which happened within a brief space of

"Among the aristocracy of that day, one who speedily drew attention to himself was a young man of one of

the best families who had made a figure in his early years in court circles, a warm admirer of everything true

and noble, zealous in his love for art, and giving promise of becoming a Maecenas. He was soon deservedly

distinguished by the Empress, who conferred upon him an important post, fully proportioned to his

desertsa post in which he could accomplish much for science and the general welfare. The youthful

dignitary surrounded himself with artists, poets, and learned men. He wished to give work to all, to encourage

all. He undertook, at his own expense, a number of useful publications; gave numerous orders to artists;

offered prizes for the encouragement of different arts; spent a great deal of money, and finally ruined himself.

But, full of noble impulses, he did not wish to relinquish his work, sought to raise a loan, and finally betook

himself to the wellknown usurer. Having borrowed a considerable sum from him, the man in a short time

changed completely. He became a persecutor and oppressor of budding talent and intellect. He saw the bad

"Then, unfortunately, came the French Revolution. This furnished him with an excuse for every kind of

suspicion. He began to discover a revolutionary tendency in everything; to concoct terrible and unjust

accusations, which made scores of people unhappy. Of course, such conduct could not fail in time to reach

the throne. The kindhearted Empress was shocked; and, full of the noble spirit which adorns crowned heads,

she uttered words still engraven on many hearts. The Empress remarked that not under a monarchical

government were high and noble impulses persecuted; not there were the creations of intellect, poetry, and art

contemned and oppressed. On the other hand, monarchs alone were their protectors. Shakespeare and Moliere

flourished under their magnanimous protection, while Dante could not find a corner in his republican

birthplace. She said that true geniuses arise at the epoch of brilliancy and power in emperors and empires, but

not in the time of monstrous political apparitions and republican terrorism, which, up to that time, had never

given to the world a single poet; that poetartists should be marked out for favour, since peace and divine

quiet alone compose their minds, not excitement and tumult; that learned men, poets, and all producers of art

are the pearls and diamonds in the imperial crown: by them is the epoch of the great ruler adorned, and from

"As the Empress uttered these words she was divinely beautiful for the moment, and I remember old men

who could not speak of the occurrence without tears. All were interested in the affair. It must be remarked, to

the honour of our national pride, that in the Russian's heart there always beats a fine feeling that he must

adopt the part of the persecuted. The dignitary who had betrayed his trust was punished in an exemplary

manner and degraded from his post. But he read a more dreadful punishment in the faces of his

fellowcountrymen: universal scorn. It is impossible to describe what he suffered, and he died in a terrible

"Another striking example also occurred. Among the beautiful women in which our northern capital

assuredly is not poor, one decidedly surpassed the rest. Her loveliness was a combination of our Northern

charms with those of the South, a gem such as rarely makes its appearance on earth. My father said that he

had never beheld anything like it in the whole course of his life. Everything seemed to be united in her,

wealth, intellect, and wit. She had throngs of admirers, the most distinguished of them being Prince R., the

most nobleminded of all young men, the finest in face, and an ideal of romance in his magnanimous and

knightly sentiments. Prince R. was passionately in love, and was requited by a like ardent passion.

"But the match seemed unequal to the parents. The prince's family estates had not been in his possession for a

long time, his family was out of favour, and the sad state of his affairs was well known to all. Of a sudden the

prince quitted the capital, as if for the purpose of arranging his affairs, and after a short interval reappeared,

surrounded with luxury and splendour. Brilliant balls and parties made him known at court. The lady's father

began to relent, and the wedding took place. Whence this change in circumstances, this unheardofwealth,

came, no one could fully explain; but it was whispered that he had entered into a compact with the mysterious

usurer, and had borrowed money of him. However that may have been, the wedding was a source of interest

to the whole city, and the bride and bridegroom were objects of general envy. Every one knew of their warm

and faithful love, the long persecution they had had to endure from every quarter, the great personal worth of

both. Ardent women at once sketched out the heavenly bliss which the young couple would enjoy. But it

"In the course of a year a frightful change came over the husband. His character, up to that time so noble,

became poisoned with jealous suspicions, irritability, and inexhaustible caprices. He became a tyrant to his

wife, a thing which no one could have foreseen, and indulged in the most inhuman deeds, and even in blows.

In a year's time no one would have recognised the woman who, such a little while before, had dazzled and

drawn about her throngs of submissive adorers. Finally, no longer able to endure her lot, she proposed a

divorce. Her husband flew into a rage at the very suggestion. In the first outburst of passion, he chased her

about the room with a knife, and would doubtless have murdered her then and there, if they had not seized

him and prevented him. In a fit of madness and despair he turned the knife against himself, and ended his life

"Besides these two instances which occurred before the eyes of all the world, stories circulated of many more

among the lower classes, nearly all of which had tragic endings. Here an honest sober man became a

drunkard; there a shopkeeper's clerk robbed his master; again, a driver who had conducted himself properly

for a number of years cut his passenger's throat for a groschen. It was impossible that such occurrences,

related, not without embellishments, should not inspire a sort of involuntary horror amongst the sedate

inhabitants of Kolomna. No one entertained any doubt as to the presence of an evil power in the usurer. They

said that he imposed conditions which made the hair rise on one's head, and which the miserable wretch

never afterward dared reveal to any other being; that his money possessed a strange power of attraction; that

it grew hot of itself, and that it bore strange marks. And it is worthy of remark, that all the colony of

Kolomna, all these poor old women, small officials, petty artists, and insignificant people whom we have just

recapitulated, agreed that it was better to endure anything, and to suffer the extreme of misery, rather than to

have recourse to the terrible usurer. Old women were even found dying of hunger, who preferred to kill their

bodies rather than lose their soul. Those who met him in the street experienced an involuntary sense of fear.

Pedestrians took care to turn aside from his path, and gazed long after his tall, receding figure. In his face

alone there was sufficient that was uncommon to cause any one to ascribe to him a supernatural nature. The

strong features, so deeply chiselled; the glowing bronze of his complexion; the incredible thickness of his

brows; the intolerable, terrible eyeseverything seemed to indicate that the passions of other men were pale

compared to those raging within him. My father stopped short every time he met him, and could not refrain

each time from saying, 'A devil, a perfect devil!' But I must introduce you as speedily as possible to my

"My father was a remarkable man in many respects. He was an artist of rare ability, a selftaught artist,

without teachers or schools, principles and rules, carried away only by the thirst for perfection, and treading a

path indicated by his own instincts, for reasons unknown, perchance, even to himself. Through some lofty

and secret instinct he perceived the presence of a soul in every object. And this secret instinct and personal

conviction turned his brush to Christian subjects, grand and lofty to the last degree. His was a strong

character: he was an honourable, upright, even rough man, covered with a sort of hard rind without, not

entirely lacking in pride, and given to expressing himself both sharply and scornfully about people. He

worked for very small results; that is to say, for just enough to support his family and obtain the materials he

needed; he never, under any circumstances, refused to aid any one, or to lend a helping hand to a poor artist;

and he believed with the simple, reverent faith of his ancestors. At length, by his unintermitting labour and

perseverance in the path he had marked out for himself, he began to win the approbation of those who

honoured his selftaught talent. They gave him constant orders for churches, and he never lacked

"One of his paintings possessed a strong interest for him. I no longer recollect the exact subject: I only know

that he needed to represent the Spirit of Darkness in it. He pondered long what form to give him: he wished to

concentrate in his face all that weighs down and oppresses a man. In the midst of his meditations there

suddenly occurred to his mind the image of the mysterious usurer; and he thought involuntarily, 'That's how I

ought to paint the Devil!' Imagine his amazement when one day, as he was at work in his studio, he heard a

"'Good! Paint my portrait. I may possibly die soon. I have no children; but I do not wish to die completely, I

wish to live. Can you paint a portrait that shall appear as though it were alive?'

"My father reflected, 'What could be better! he offers himself for the Devil in my picture.' He promised. They

agreed upon a time and price; and the next day my father took palette and brushes and went to the usurer's

house. The lofty courtyard, dogs, iron doors and locks, arched windows, coffers, draped with strange covers,

and, last of all, the remarkable owner himself, seated motionless before him, all produced a strange

impression on him. The windows seemed intentionally so encumbered below that they admitted the light only

from the top. 'Devil take him, how well his face is lighted!' he said to himself, and began to paint assiduously,

as though afraid that the favourable light would disappear. 'What power!' he repeated to himself. 'If I only

accomplish half a likeness of him, as he is now, it will surpass all my other works: he will simply start from

the canvas if I am only partly true to nature. What remarkable features!' He redoubled his energy; and began

himself to notice how some of his sitter's traits were making their appearance on the canvas.

"But the more closely he approached resemblance, the more conscious he became of an aggressive, uneasy

feeling which he could not explain to himself. Notwithstanding this, he set himself to copy with literal

accuracy every trait and expression. First of all, however, he busied himself with the eyes. There was so

much force in those eyes, that it seemed impossible to reproduce them exactly as they were in nature. But he

resolved, at any price, to seek in them the most minute characteristics and shades, to penetrate their secret. As

soon, however, as he approached them in resemblance, and began to redouble his exertions, there sprang up

in his mind such a terrible feeling of repulsion, of inexplicable expression, that he was forced to lay aside his

brush for a while and begin anew. At last he could bear it no longer: he felt as if these eyes were piercing into

his soul, and causing intolerable emotion. On the second and third days this grew still stronger. It became

horrible to him. He threw down his brush, and declared abruptly that he could paint the stranger no longer.

You should have seen how the terrible usurer changed countenance at these words. He threw himself at his

feet, and besought him to finish the portrait, saying that his fate and his existence depended on it; that he had

already caught his prominent features; that if he could reproduce them accurately, his life would be preserved

in his portrait in a supernatural manner; that by that means he would not die completely; that it was necessary

"My father was frightened by these words: they seemed to him strange and terrible to such a degree, that he

"The thought of it troubled him all day and all night; but the next morning he received the portrait from the

usurer, by a woman who was the only creature in his service, and who announced that her master did not

want the portrait, and would pay nothing for it, and had sent it back. On the evening of the same day he

learned that the usurer was dead, and that preparations were in progress to bury him according to the rites of

his religion. All this seemed to him inexplicably strange. But from that day a marked change showed itself in

his character. He was possessed by a troubled, uneasy feeling, of which he was unable to explain the cause;

and he soon committed a deed which no one could have expected of him. For some time the works of one of

his pupils had been attracting the attention of a small circle of connoisseurs and amateurs. My father had

perceived his talent, and manifested a particular liking for him in consequence. Suddenly the general interest

in him and talk about him became unendurable to my father who grew envious of him. Finally, to complete

his vexation, he learned that his pupil had been asked to paint a picture for a recently built and wealthy

church. This enraged him. 'No, I will not permit that fledgling to triumph!' said he: 'it is early, friend, to think

of consigning old men to the gutters. I still have powers, God be praised! We'll soon see which will put down

"And this straightforward, honourable man employed intrigues which he had hitherto abhorred. He finally

contrived that there should be a competition for the picture which other artists were permitted to enter into.

Then he shut himself up in his room, and grasped his brush with zeal. It seemed as if he were striving to

summon all his strength up for this occasion. And, in fact, the result turned out to be one of his best works.

No one doubted that he would bear off the palm. The pictures were placed on exhibition, and all the others

seemed to his as night to day. But of a sudden, one of the members present, an ecclesiastical personage if I

mistake not, made a remark which surprised every one. 'There is certainly much talent in this artist's picture,'

said he, 'but no holiness in the faces: there is even, on the contrary, a demoniacal look in the eyes, as though

some evil feeling had guided the artist's hand.' All looked, and could not but acknowledge the truth of these

words. My father rushed forward to his picture, as though to verify for himself this offensive remark, and

perceived with horror that he had bestowed the usurer's eyes upon nearly all the figures. They had such a

diabolical gaze that he involuntarily shuddered. The picture was rejected; and he was forced to hear, to his

"It is impossible to describe the state of rage in which he returned home. He almost killed my mother, he

drove the children away, broke his brushes and easels, tore down the usurer's portrait from the wall,

demanded a knife, and ordered a fire to be built in the chimney, intending to cut it in pieces and burn it. A

friend, an artist, caught him in the act as he entered the rooma jolly fellow, always satisfied with himself,

inflated by unattainable wishes, doing daily anything that came to hand, and taking still more gaily to his

"'What are you doing? What are you preparing to burn?' he asked, and stepped up to the portrait. 'Why, this is

one of your very best works. It is the usurer who died a short time ago: yes, it is a most perfect likeness. You

did not stop until you had got into his very eyes. Never did eyes look as these do now.'

"'Well, I'll see how they look in the fire!' said my father, making a movement to fling the portrait into the

"'Stop, for Heaven's sake!' exclaimed his friend, restraining him: 'give it to me, rather, if it offends your eyes

to such a degree.' My father resisted, but yielded at length; and the jolly fellow, well pleased with his

"When he was gone, my father felt more calm. The burden seemed to have disappeared from his soul in

company with the portrait. He was surprised himself at his evil feelings, his envy, and the evident change in

his character. Reviewing his acts, he became sad at heart; and not without inward sorrow did he exclaim, 'No,

it was God who punished me! my picture, in fact, was meant to ruin my brotherman. A devilish feeling of

envy guided my brush, and that devilish feeling must have made itself visible in it.'

"He set out at once to seek his former pupil, embraced him warmly, begged his forgiveness, and endeavoured

as far as possible to excuse his own fault. His labours continued as before; but his face was more frequently

thoughtful. He prayed more, grew more taciturn, and expressed himself less sharply about people: even the

rough exterior of his character was modified to some extent. But a certain occurrence soon disturbed him

more than ever. He had seen nothing for a long time of the comrade who had begged the portrait of him. He

had already decided to hunt him up, when the latter suddenly made his appearance in his room. After a few

words and questions on both sides, he said, 'Well, brother, it was not without cause that you wished to burn

that portrait. Devil take it, there's something horrible about it! I don't believe in sorcerers; but, begging your

"'Well, from the very moment I hung it up in my room I felt such depressionjust as if I wanted to murder

some one. I never knew in my life what sleeplessness was; but I suffered not from sleeplessness alone, but

from such dreams!I cannot tell whether they were dreams, or what; it was as if a demon were strangling

one: and the old man appeared to me in my sleep. In short, I can't describe my state of mind. I had a sensation

of fear, as if expecting something unpleasant. I felt as if I could not speak a cheerful or sincere word to any

one: it was just as if a spy were sitting over me. But from the very hour that I gave that portrait to my

nephew, who asked for it, I felt as if a stone had been rolled from my shoulders, and became cheerful, as you

"During this recital my father listened with unswerving attention, and finally inquired, 'And your nephew

"'My nephew, indeed! he could not stand it!' said the jolly fellow: 'do you know, the soul of that usurer has

migrated into it; he jumps out of the frame, walks about the room; and what my nephew tells of him is simply

incomprehensible. I should take him for a lunatic, if I had not undergone a part of it myself. He sold it to

some collector of pictures; and he could not stand it either, and got rid of it to some one else.'

"This story produced a deep impression on my father. He grew seriously pensive, fell into hypochondria, and

finally became fully convinced that his brush had served as a tool of the Devil; and that a portion of the

usurer's vitality had actually passed into the portrait, and was now troubling people, inspiring diabolical

excitement, beguiling painters from the true path, producing the fearful torments of envy, and so forth. Three

catastrophes which occurred afterwards, three sudden deaths of wife, daughter, and infant son, he regarded as

"As soon as I was nine years old, he placed me in an academy of painting, and, paying all his debts, retired to

a lonely cloister, where he soon afterwards took the vows. There he amazed every one by the strictness of his

life, and his untiring observance of all the monastic rules. The prior of the monastery, hearing of his skill in

painting, ordered him to paint the principal picture in the church. But the humble brother said plainly that he

was unworthy to touch a brush, that his was contaminated, that with toil and great sacrifice must he first

purify his spirit in order to render himself fit to undertake such a task. He increased the rigours of monastic

life for himself as much as possible. At last, even they became insufficient, and he retired, with the approval

of the prior, into the desert, in order to be quite alone. There he constructed himself a cell from branches of

trees, ate only uncooked roots, dragged about a stone from place to place, stood in one spot with his hands

lifted to heaven, from the rising until the going down of the sun, reciting prayers without cessation. In this

manner did he for several years exhaust his body, invigorating it, at the same time, with the strength of

"At length, one day he returned to the cloister, and said firmly to the prior, 'Now I am ready. If God wills, I

will finish my task.' The subject he selected was the Birth of Christ. A whole year he sat over it, without

leaving his cell, barely sustaining himself with coarse food, and praying incessantly. At the end of the year

the picture was ready. It was a really wonderful work. Neither prior nor brethren knew much about painting;

but all were struck with the marvellous holiness of the figures. The expression of reverent humility and

gentleness in the face of the Holy Mother, as she bent over the Child; the deep intelligence in the eyes of the

Holy Child, as though he saw something afar; the triumphant silence of the Magi, amazed by the Divine

Miracle, as they bowed at his feet: and finally, the indescribable peace which emanated from the whole

pictureall this was presented with such strength and beauty, that the impression it made was magical. All

the brethren threw themselves on their knees before it; and the prior, deeply affected, exclaimed, 'No, it is

impossible for any artist, with the assistance only of earthly art, to produce such a picture: a holy, divine

"By that time I had completed my education at the academy, received the gold medal, and with it the joyful

hope of a journey to Italythe fairest dream of a twentyyearold artist. It only remained for me to take

leave of my father, from whom I had been separated for twelve years. I confess that even his image had long

faded from my memory. I had heard somewhat of his grim saintliness, and rather expected to meet a hermit

of rough exterior, a stranger to everything in the world, except his cell and his prayers, worn out, tried up, by

eternal fasting and penance. But how great was my surprise when a handsome old man stood before me! No

traces of exhaustion were visible on his countenance: it beamed with the light of a heavenly joy. His beard,

white as snow, and his thin, almost transparent hair of the same silvery hue, fell picturesquely upon his

breast, and upon the folds of his black gown, even to the rope with which his poor monastic garb was girded.

But most surprising to me of all was to hear from his mouth such words and thoughts about art as, I confess, I

long shall bear in mind, and I sincerely wish that all my comrades would do the same.

"'I expected you, my son,' he said, when I approached for his blessing. 'The path awaits you in which your life

is henceforth to flow. Your path is puredesert it not. You have talent: talent is the most priceless of God's

giftsdestroy it not. Search out, subject all things to your brush; but in all see that you find the hidden soul,

and most of all, strive to attain to the grand secret of creation. Blessed is the elect one who masters that!

There is for him no mean object in nature. In lowly themes the artist creator is as great as in great ones: in the

despicable there is nothing for him to despise, for it passes through the purifying fire of his mind. An

intimation of God's heavenly paradise is contained for the artist in art, and by that alone is it higher than all

else. But by as much as triumphant rest is grander than every earthly emotion, by so much is the lofty

creation of art higher than everything else on earth. Sacrifice everything to it, and love it with passionnot

with the passion breathing with earthly desire, but a peaceful, heavenly passion. It cannot plant discord in the

spirit, but ascends, like a resounding prayer, eternally to God. But there are moments, dark moments' He

paused, and I observed that his bright face darkened, as though some cloud crossed it for a moment. 'There is

one incident of my life,' he said. 'Up to this moment, I cannot understand what that terrible being was of

whom I painted a likeness. It was certainly some diabolical apparition. I know that the world denies the

existence of the Devil, and therefore I will not speak of him. I will only say that I painted him with

repugnance: I felt no liking for my work, even at the time. I tried to force myself, and, stifling every emotion

in a hardhearted way, to be true to nature. I have been informed that this portrait is passing from hand to

hand, and sowing unpleasant impressions, inspiring artists with feelings of envy, of dark hatred towards their

brethren, with malicious thirst for persecution and oppression. May the Almighty preserve you from such

"He blessed and embraced me. Never in my life was I so grandly moved. Reverently, rather than with the

feeling of a son, I leaned upon his breast, and kissed his scattered silver locks.

"Tears shone in his eyes. 'Fulfil my one request, my son,' said he, at the moment of parting. 'You may chance

to see the portrait I have mentioned somewhere. You will know it at once by the strange eyes, and their

"Judge for yourselves whether I could refuse to promise, with an oath, to fulfil this request. In the space of

fifteen years I had never succeeded in meeting with anything which in any way corresponded to the

The artist did not finish his sentence, but turned his eyes to the wall in order to glance once more at the

portrait. The entire throng of auditors made the same movement, seeking the wonderful portrait with their

eyes. But, to their extreme amazement, it was no longer on the wall. An indistinct murmur and exclamation

ran through the crowd, and then was heard distinctly the word, "stolen." Some one had succeeded in carrying

it off, taking advantage of the fact that the attention of the spectators was distracted by the story. And those

present long remained in a state of surprise, not knowing whether they had really seen those remarkable eyes,

or whether it was simply a dream which had floated for an instant before their eyesight, strained with long

The town of B had become very lively since a cavalry regiment had taken up its quarters in it. Up to that

date it had been mortally wearisome there. When you happened to pass through the town and glanced at its

little mud houses with their incredibly gloomy aspect, the pen refuses to express what you felt. You suffered

a terrible uneasiness as if you had just lost all your money at play, or had committed some terrible blunder in

company. The plaster covering the houses, soaked by the rain, had fallen away in many places from their

walls, which from white had become streaked and spotted, whilst old reeds served to thatch them.

Following a custom very common in the towns of South Russia, the chief of police has long since had all the

trees in the gardens cut down to improve the view. One never meets anything in the town, unless it is a cock

crossing the road, full of dust and soft as a pillow. At the slightest rain this dust is turned into mud, and then

all the streets are filled with pigs. Displaying to all their grave faces, they utter such grunts that travellers only

think of pressing their horses to get away from them as soon as possible. Sometimes some country gentleman

of the neighbourhood, the owner of a dozen serfs, passes in a vehicle which is a kind of compromise between

a carriage and a cart, surrounded by sacks of flour, and whipping up his bay mare with her colt trotting by her

side. The aspect of the marketplace is mournful enough. The tailor's house sticks out very stupidly, not

squarely to the front but sideways. Facing it is a brick house with two windows, unfinished for fifteen years

past, and further on a large wooden marketstall standing by itself and painted mudcolour. This stall, which

was to serve as a model, was built by the chief of police in the time of his youth, before he got into the habit

of falling asleep directly after dinner, and of drinking a kind of decoction of dried gooseberries every

evening. All around the rest of the marketplace are nothing but palings. But in the centre are some little

sheds where a packet of round cakes, a stout woman in a red dress, a bar of soap, some pounds of bitter

almonds, some lead, some cotton, and two shopmen playing at "svaika," a game resembling quoits, are

But on the arrival of the cavalry regiment everything changed. The streets became more lively and wore quite

another aspect. Often from their little houses the inhabitants would see a tall and wellmade officer with a

plumed hat pass by, on his way to the quarters of one of his comrades to discuss the chances of promotion or

the qualities of a new tobacco, or perhaps to risk at play his carriage, which might indeed be called the

carriage of all the regiment, since it belonged in turn to every one of them. Today it was the major who

drove out in it, tomorrow it was seen in the lieutenant's coachhouse, and a week later the major's servant

was again greasing its wheels. The long hedges separating the houses were suddenly covered with soldiers'

caps exposed to the sun, grey frieze cloaks hung in the doorways, and moustaches harsh and bristling as

clothes brushes were to be met with in all the streets. These moustaches showed themselves everywhere, but

above all at the market, over the shoulders of the women of the place who flocked there from all sides to

Society consisted up till then of the judge who was living with a deacon's wife, and of the chief of police, a

very sensible man, but one who slept all day long from dinner till evening, and from evening till dinnertime.

This general liveliness was still further increased when the town of B became the residence of the general

commanding the brigade to which the regiment belonged. Many gentlemen of the neighbourhood, whose

very existence no one had even suspected, began to come into the town with the intention of calling on the

officers, or, perhaps, of playing bank, a game concerning which they had up till then only a very confused

notion, occupied as they were with their crops and the commissions of their wives and their harehunting. I

am very sorry that I cannot recollect for what reason the general made up his mind one fine day to give a

grand dinner. The preparations were overwhelming. The clatter of knives in the kitchen was heard as far as

the town gates. The whole of the market was laid under contributions, so much so that the judge and the

deacon's wife found themselves obliged that day to be satisfied with hasty puddings and cakes of flour. The

little courtyard of the house occupied by the general was crowded with vehicles. The company only consisted

Amongst these latter was above all conspicuous Pythagoras Pythagoravitch Tchertokoutski, one of the

leading aristocrats of the district of B, the most fiery orator at the nobiliary elections and the owner of a

very elegant turnout. He had served in a cavalry regiment and had even passed for one of its most

accomplished officers, having constantly shown himself at all the balls and parties wherever his regiment was

quartered. Information respecting him may be asked of all the young ladies in the districts of Tamboff and

Simbirsk. He would very probably have further extended his reputation in other districts if he had not been

obliged to leave the service in consequence of one of those affairs which are spoken of as "a very unpleasant

business." Had he given or received a blow? I cannot say with certainty, but what is indisputable is that he

was asked to send in his resignation. However, this accident had no unpleasant effect upon the esteem in

Tchertokoutski always wore a coat of a military cut, spurs and moustache, in order not to have it supposed

that he had served in the infantry, a branch of the service upon which he lavished the most contemptuous

expressions. He frequented the numerous fairs to which flock the whole of the population of Southern Russia,

consisting of nursemaids, tall girls, and burly gentlemen who go there in vehicles of such strange aspect that

no one has ever seen their match even in a dream. He instinctively guessed the spot in which a regiment of

cavalry was to be found and never failed to introduce himself to the officers. On perceiving them he bounded

gracefully from his light phaeton and soon made acquaintance with them. At the last election he had given to

the whole of the nobility a grand dinner during which he declared that if he were elected marshal he would

put all gentlemen on the best possible footing. He usually behaved after the fashion of a great noble. He had

married a rather pretty lady with a dowry of two hundred serfs and some thousands of rubles. This money

was at once employed in the purchase of six fine horses, some gilt bronze locks, and a tame monkey. He

further engaged a French cook. The two hundred peasants of the lady, as well as two hundred more belonging

to the gentleman, were mortgaged to the bank. In a word, he was a regular nobleman. Besides himself,

several other gentlemen were amongst the general's guests, but it is not worth while speaking of them. The

officers of the regiment, amongst whom were the colonel and the fat major, formed the majority of those

present. The general himself was rather stout; a good officer, nevertheless, according to his subordinates. He

The dinner was magnificent; there were sturgeons, sterlets, bustards, asparagus, quail, partridges, mushrooms.

The flavour of all these dishes supplied an irrefutable proof of the sobriety of the cook during the

twentyfour hours preceding the dinner. Four soldiers, who had been given him as assistants, had not ceased

working all night, knife in hand, at the composition of ragouts and jellies. The immense quantity of

longnecked bottles, mingled with shorter ones, holding claret and madeira; the fine summer day, the

wideopen windows, the plates piled up with ice on the table, the crumpled shirtfronts of the gentlemen in

plain clothes, and a brisk and noisy conversation, now dominated by the general's voice, and now besprinkled

with champagne, were all in perfect harmony. The guests rose from the table with a pleasant feeling of

repletion, and, after having lit their pipes, all stepped out, coffeecups in hand, on to the verandah.

"We can see her now," said the general. "Here, my dear fellow," added he, addressing his aidedecamp, an

active wellmade young officer, "have the bay mare brought here. You shall see for yourselves, gentlemen."

"She is not quite recovered yet; there is not a decent stable in this cursed little place. But she is not bad

looking" puffpuff, the general here let out the smoke which he had kept in his mouth till then"the

"It is long since your excellency" puffpuffpuff"condescended to buy her?" asked Tchertokoutski.

Puffpuffpuffpuff. "Not very long, I had her from the breeding establishment two years ago."

"And did your excellency condescend to take her ready broken, or to have her broken in here yourself?"

At that moment a soldier jumped out of the stable. The trampling of a horse's hoofs was heard, and another

soldier with immense moustaches, and wearing a long white tunic, appeared, leading by the bridle the

The mare's name was Agrafena Ivanovna. Strong and bold as a Southern beauty, she suddenly became

The general began to look at her with evident satisfaction, and left off smoking. The colonel himself went

down the steps and patted her neck. The major ran his hand down her legs, and all the other officers clicked

Tchertokoutski left the verandah to take up a position beside the mare. The soldier who held her bridle drew

"She is very fine, very fine," said Tchertokoutski, "a very wellshaped beast. Will your excellency allow me

"She goes well, but that idiot of a doctor, deuce take him, has given her some balls which have made her

"She is a fine beast, a very fine beast. Has your excellency a turnout to match the horse?"

"I know. I put the question, your excellency, to know if you have an equipage worthy of your other horses?"

"No, I have not much in the way of equipages; I must admit that, for some time past, I have been wanting to

buy a calash, such as they build nowadays. I have written about it to my brother who is now at St.

"It seems to me, your excellency," remarked the colonel, "that there are no better calashes than those of

"I have an excellent calash, your excellency, a real Viennese calash," said Tchertokoutski.

"Oh no, I make use of that for ordinary service, but the other is something extraordinary. It is as light as a

feather, and if you sit in it, it seems as if your nurse was rocking you in a cradle."

"Extremely comfortable; the cushions, the springs, and everything else are perfect."

"And what a quantity of things can be packed away in it. I have never seen anything like it, your excellency.

When I was still in the service there was room enough in the body to stow away ten bottles of rum, twenty

pounds of tobacco, six uniforms, and two pipes, the longest pipes imaginable, your excellency; and in the

"No, your excellency, I had it by chance. It was bought by one of my oldest friends, a fine fellow with whom

you would be very well pleased. We are very intimate. What is mine is his, and what is his is mine. I won it

of him at cards. Would your excellency have the kindness to honour me at dinner tomorrow? You could see

"I don't know what to say. Alone I could notbut if you would allow me to come with these officers"

"I beg of them to come too. I shall esteem it a great honour, gentlemen, to have the pleasure of seeing you at

"I am of opinion myself, your excellency, that if one buys anything it should be good; it is not worth the

trouble of getting, if it turns out bad. If you do me the honour of calling on me tomorrow, I will show you

Tchertokoutski was charmed with his notion of inviting the officers, and mentally ordered in advance all

manner of dishes for their entertainment. He smiled at these gentlemen, who on their part appeared to

increase their show of attention towards him, as was noticeable from the expression of their eyes and the little

halfnods they bestowed upon him. His bearing assumed a certain ease, and his voice expressed his great

Tchertokoutski was firmly resolved to return home at once in order to make all necessary preparations in

good time. He had already taken his hat, but a strange fatality caused him to remain for some time at the

general's. The card tables had been set out, and all the company, separating into groups of four, scattered

itself about the room. Lights were brought in. Tchertokoutski did not know whether he ought to sit down to

whist. But as the officers invited him, he thought that the rules of good breeding obliged him to accept. He sat

down. I do not know how a glass of punch found itself at his elbow, but he drank it off without thinking.

After playing two rubbers, he found another glass close to his hand which he drank off in the same way,

He began to play a fresh rubber. However, the conversation which was going on in every corner of the room

took an especial turn. Those who were playing whist were quiet enough, but the others talked a great deal. A

captain had taken up his position on a sofa, and leaning against a cushion, pipe in mouth, he captivated the

attention of a circle of guests gathered about him by his eloquent narrative of amorous adventures. A very

stout gentleman whose arms were so short that they looked like two potatoes hanging by his sides, listened to

him with a very satisfied expression, and from time to time exerted himself to pull his tobaccopouch out of

his coattail pocket. A somewhat brisk discussion on cavalry drill had arisen in another corner, and

Tchertokoutski, who had twice already played a knave for a king, mingled in the conversation by calling out

from his place: "In what year?" or "What regiment?" without noticing that very often his question had no

application whatever. At length, a few minutes before supper, play came to an end. Tchertokoutski could

remember that he had won a great deal, but he did not take up his winnings, and after rising stood for some

They sat down to supper. As might be expected, wine was not lacking, and Tchertokoutski kept involuntarily

filling his glass with it, for he was surrounded with bottles. A lengthy conversation took place at table, but the

guests carried it on after a strange fashion. A colonel, who had served in 1812, described a battle which had

never taken place; and besides, no one ever could make out why he took a cork and stuck it into a pie. They

began to breakup at three in the morning. The coachmen were obliged to take several of them in their arms

like bundles; and Tchertokoutski himself, despite his aristocratic pride, bowed so low to the company, that he

The coachman who drove him home found every one asleep. He routed out, after some trouble, the valet,

who, after having ushered his master through the hall, handed him over to a maidservant. Tchertokoutski

followed her as well as he could to the best room, and stretched himself beside his pretty young wife, who

was sleeping in a nightgown as white as snow. The shock of her husband falling on the bed awoke hershe

stretched out her arms, opened her eyes, closed them quickly, and then opened them again quite wide, with a

halfvexed air. Seeing that her husband did not pay the slightest attention to her, she turned over on the other

It was latethat is, according to country customswhen the lady awoke again. Her husband was snoring

more loudly than ever. She recollected that he had come home at four o'clock, and not wishing to awaken

him, got up alone, and put on her slippers, which her husband had had sent for her from St. Petersburg, and a

white dressinggown which fell about her like the waters of a fountain. Then she passed into her

dressingroom, and after washing in water as fresh as herself, went to her toilet table. She looked at herself

twice in the glass, and thought she looked very pretty that morning. This circumstance, a very insignificant

one apparently, caused her to stay two hours longer than usual before her glass. She dressed herself very

The weather was splendid: it was one of the finest days of the summer. The sun, which had almost reached

the meridian, shed its most ardent rays; but a pleasant coolness reigned under the leafy arcades; and the

flowers, warmed by the sun, exhaled their sweetest perfume. The pretty mistress of the house had quite

forgotten that it was noon at least, and that her husband was still asleep. Already she heard the snores of two

coachmen and a groom, who were taking their siesta in the stable, after having dined copiously. But she was

still sitting in a bower from which the deserted high road could be seen, when all at once her attention was

caught by a light cloud of dust rising in the distance. After looking at it for some moments, she ended by

making out several vehicles, closely following one another. First came a light calash, with two places, in

which was the general, wearing his large and glittering epaulettes, with the colonel. This was followed by

another with four places, containing the captain, the aidedecamp and two lieutenants. Further on, came the

celebrated regimental vehicle, the present owner of which was the major, and behind that another in which

were packed five officers, one on his comrade's knees, the procession being closed by three more on three

"Are they coming here?" thought the mistress of the house. "Good heavens, yes! they are leaving the main

She gave a cry, clasped her hands, and ran straight across the flowerbeds to her bedroom, where her

"Whatwhat's the matter?" murmured Tchertokoutski, stretching his limbs without opening his eyes.

"Visitors, what visitors?" After saying these words he uttered a little plaintive grunt like that of a sucking

"My dear, get up at once, for heaven's sake. The general has come with all his officers. Ah! goodness, you

"The general! Has he come already? But why the deuce did not they wake me? And the dinner, is the dinner

"A dinner! You got home at four o'clock in the morning and you did not answer a single word to all my

Tchertokoutski, his eyes staring out of his head, remained motionless for some moments as though a

"Idiot that I am," he exclaimed, clasping his hand to his forehead; "I had invited them to dinner. What is to be

"My dear, hide yourself. Ho there, somebody. Hi there, you girl. Come here, you fool; what are you afraid of?

The officers are coming here; tell them I am not at home, that I went out early this morning, that I am not

coming back. Do you understand? Go and repeat it to all the servants. Be off, quick."

Having uttered these words, he hurriedly slipped on his dressinggown, and ran off to shut himself up in the

coachhouse, which he thought the safest hidingplace. But he fancied that he might be noticed in the corner

"This will be better," said he to himself, letting down the steps of the nearest vehicle, which happened to be

the calash. He jumped inside, closed the door, and, as a further precaution, covered himself with the leather

During this time the equipages had drawn up before the porch. The general got out of his carriage and shook

himself, followed by the colonel, arranging the feathers in his hat. After him came the stout major, his sabre

under his arm, and the slim lieutenants, whilst the mounted officers also alighted.

"The master is not at home," said a servant appearing at the top of a flight of steps.

"No, he is not; he has gone out for the day and will not be back till this time tomorrow."

"No, no, such things are inconceivable," said the general angrily. "If he could not receive us, why did he

"I cannot understand, your excellency, how it is possible to act in such a manner," observed a young officer.

"What?" said the general, who always made an officer under the rank of captain repeat his remarks twice

"There is nothing to be done, your excellency, we had better go back home," said the colonel.

"Certainly, there is nothing to be done. However, we can see the calash without him; probably he has not

"Let me pull it a little forward, your excellency," said the servant, "it is rather dark here."

The general and his officers walked around the calash, carefully inspecting the wheels and springs.

"There is nothing remarkable about it," said the general; "it is a very ordinary calash."

"Nothing to look at," added the colonel; "there is absolutely nothing good about it."

"It seems to me, your excellency, that it is not worth four thousand rubles," remarked a young officer.

"I said, your excellency, that I do not think that it is worth four thousand rubles."

"Four thousand! It is not worth two. Perhaps, however, the inside is well fitted. Unbutton the apron."

And Tchertokoutski appeared before the officers' eyes, clad in his dressinggown and doubled up in a