Leo Tolstoy: Collection of 78 Classic Works with analysis and historical background (Annotated and Illustrated)

4135 Pages·2013·21.67 MB·English

by  Leo Tolstoy

Leo Tolstoy Collection
Edited by Rose Polak, Ph.D.
A-Z INDEX :: Novels :: Dramatic Plays :: Stories :: Essays :: Biography &
History :: Quotes & Analysis
Novels:
Anna Karenina, Translated by Constance Garnett
The Cossacks, A Tale of 1852, Translated by Louise and Aylmer Maude
The Death of Ivan Ilych, Translated by Louise and Aylmer Maude
Hadji Murad, Translated by Louise and Aylmer Maude
Master and Man, Translated by Louise and Aylmer Maude
The Kreutzer Sonata, Translator Benjamin R. Tucker
Resurrection; or, The Awakening, Translated by Louise Maude
A Russian Proprietor, Translated by Nathan Haskell Dole
War and Peace, Translated by Louise and Aylmer Maude
Childhood, Translated by C. J. Hogarth
Boyhood, Translated by C. J. Hogarth
Youth, Translated by C. J. Hogarth
Dramatic Plays:
The Cause of it All, Translated by Louise and Aylmer Maude
Fruits of Culture, Translated by Arthur Hopkins
Redemption, Translated by Arthur Hopkins
The Power of Darkness, Translated by Arthur Hopkins
The First Distiller, Translated by Louise and Aylmer Maude
The Light Shines in Darkness, Translated by Louise and Aylmer Maude
Stories:
Albert, Translated by Nathan Haskell Dole
The Candle, Translated by Benjamin R. Tucker
The Devil, Translated by Louise and Aylmer Maude
Fables for Children, Translated by Leo Wiener
Father Sergius, Translated by Louise and Aylmer Maude
Family Happiness, Translated by Louise and Aylmer Maude
A Lost Opportunity, Translated by Benjamin R. Tucker
Polikushka: The Lot of a Wicked Court Servant
Recollections of a Billiard-marker, Translated by Nathan Haskell Dole
Three Deaths, Translated by Nathan Haskell Dole
Three Parables, Translated by Nathan Haskell Dole
Two Hussars, Translated by Nathan Haskell Dole
The Forged Coupon and Other Stories
The Forged Coupon
After The Dance
Alyosha The Pot
My Dream
There Are No Guilty People
The Young Tsar
Twenty-Three Tales (Translated by Louise and Aylmer Maude):
God Sees the Truth, But Waits
The Prisoner of the Caucasus
The Bear Hunt
What Men Live By
A Spark Neglected Burns the House
Two Old Men
Where Love is, There God is Also
Ivan The Fool
Evil Allures, But Good Endures
Little Girls Wiser Than Men; or, Wisdom of Children
Ilyás
The Three Hermits
The Imp and the Crust
How Much Land Does a Man Need?
A Grain as Big as a Hen's Egg
The Godson
The Repentant Sinner
The Empty Drum
The CoffeeHouse of Surat
Too Dear!
Esarhaddon, King of Assyria
Work, Death, and Sickness
Three Questions
Essays:
A Confession Translated by Louise and Aylmer Maude
Church and State, Translated by Nathan Haskell Dole
The Kingdom of God Is Within You, Translated by Constance Garnett
The Moscow Census, Translated by Isabel F. Hapgood
On Labor and Luxury, Translated by Isabel F. Hapgood
On the Significance of Science and Art, Translated by Isabel F. Hapgood
Thoughts Evoked by the Census of Moscow, Translated by Isabel F. Hapgood
To Women, Translated by Isabel F. Hapgood
What I Believe, Translated by Constantine Popoff
What to Do?, Translated by Isabel F. Hapgood
Biography & Historical Background
Biography
Chronology
Tolstoy, Leo by Charles Theodore Hagberg Wright
Tolstoyan movement
Yasnaya Polyana
Christian anarchism
Reminiscences of Tolstoy by His Son: Count Ilya Tolstoy
Autobiography of Countess Tolstoy by Sophie Andreevna Tolstaia
Essays on Russian Novelists by William Lyon Phelps
A Survey of Russian Literature, with Selections by Isabel F. Hapgood
Tolstoy Russia
Russian Empire
Russian Orthodox Church
Quotes & Analysis
QUOTES
Works' ANALYSIS
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A-Z Index
-A- | -B- | -C- | -D- | -E- | -F- | -G- | -H- | -I- | -K- | -L- | -M- | -O- | -P- | -R- | -
S- | -T- | -W- | -Y-
After The Dance
Albert
Alternate Ending
Alyosha The Pot
Anna Karenina
Article on the Census in Moscow
The Awakening
The Bear Hunt
Boyhood
The Candle
The Cause of it All
Childhood
Church and State
The CoffeeHouse of Surat
A Confession
The Cossacks, A Tale of 1852
The Death of Ivan Ilych
The Devil
The Empty Drum
Esarhaddon, King of Assyria
Evil Allures, But Good Endures
Fables for Children
Family Happiness
Father Sergius
The First Distiller
The Forged Coupon
The Forged Coupon, And Other Stories
Fruits of Culture
God Sees the Truth, But Waits
The Godson
A Grain As Big As A Hen's Egg
Hadji Murad
How Much Land Does a Man Need?
Ilyás
The Imp and the Crust
Ivan The Fool
The Kingdom of God Is Within You
The Kreutzer Sonata
The Kreutzer Sonata, And Other Stories
Life In The City
Life In The Country
The Light Shines in Darkness
A Lost Opportunity
Lucerne
Master And Man
My Dream
On Labor And Luxury
On The Significance of Science And Art
Polikushka
The Power of Darkness
The Prisoner of the Caucasus
Recollections of a Billiard-marker
Redemption
The Repentant Sinner
Resurrection; or, The Awakening
A Russian Proprietor
A Spark Neglected Burns the House
There Are No Guilty People
Thoughts Evoked by The Census of Moscow
Three Deaths
The Three Hermits
Three Parables
Three Plays: Redemption, The Power of Darkness and Fruits of Culture
Three Questions
To Women
Too Dear!
Two Hussars
Two Old Men
War and Peace
What I Believe
What Men Live
What to Do? Thoughts Evoked by The Census of Moscow
Where Love is, There God is Also
Wisdom of Children or Little Girls Wiser Than Men
Work, Death, and Sickness
The Young Tsar
Youth
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Albert
Translated by Nathan Haskell Dole
I. | II. | III. | IV. | V. | VI. | VII.
I.
Five rich young men went at three o'clock in the morning to a ball in
Petersburg to have a good time.
Much champagne was drunk; a majority of the gentlemen were very young;
the girls were pretty; a pianist and a fiddler played indefatigably one polka after
another; there was no cease to the noise of conversation and dancing. But there
was a sense of awkwardness and constraint; every one felt somehow or other —
and this is not unusual — that all was not as it should be.
There were several attempts made to make things more lively, but simulated
liveliness is much worse than melancholy.
One of the five young men, who was more discontented than any one else,
both with himself and with the others, and who had been feeling all the evening
a sense of disgust, took his hat, and went out noiselessly on purpose, intending to
go home.
There was no one in the anteroom, but in the next room at the door he heard
two voices disputing. The young man paused, and listened.
"It is impossible, there are guests in there," said a woman's voice.
"Come, let me in, please. I will not do any harm," urged a man in a gentle
voice.
"Indeed I will not without madame's permission," said the woman. "Where
are you going? Oh, what a man you are!"
The door was flung open, and on the threshold appeared the figure of a
stranger. Seeing a guest, the maid ceased to detain the man; and the stranger,
timidly bowing, came into the room with a somewhat unsteady gait.
He was a man of medium stature, with a lank, crooked back, and long
dishevelled hair. He wore a short paletot, and tight ragged pantaloons over
coarse dirty boots. His necktie, twisted into a string, exposed his long white
neck. His shirt was filthy, and the sleeves came down over his lean hands.
But, notwithstanding his thoroughly emaciated body, his face was attractive
and fair; and a fresh color even mantled his cheeks under his thin dark beard and
side-whiskers. His dishevelled locks, thrown back, exposed a low and
remarkably pure forehead. His dark, languid eyes looked unswervingly forward
with an expression of serenity, submission, and sweetness, which made a
fascinating combination with the expression of his fresh, curved lips, visible
under his thin moustache.
Advancing a few steps, he paused, turned to the young man, and smiled. He
found it apparently rather hard to smile. But his face was so lighted up by it, that
the young man, without knowing why, smiled in return.
"Who is that man?" he asked of the maid in a whisper, as the stranger walked
toward the room where the dancing was going on.
"A crazy musician from the theatre," replied the maid. "He sometimes comes
to call upon madame."
"Where are you going, Delesof?" some one at this moment called from the
drawingroom.
The young man who was called Delesof returned to the drawingroom. The
musician was now standing at the door; and, as his eyes fell on the dancers, he
showed by his smile and by the beating of his foot how much pleasure this
spectacle afforded him.
"Won't you come, and have a dance too?" said one of the guests to him. The
musician bowed, and looked at the hostess inquiringly.
"Come, come. Why not, since the gentlemen have invited you?" said the
hostess. The musician's thin, weak face suddenly assumed an expression of
decision; and smiling and winking, and shuffling his feet, he awkwardly,
clumsily went to join the dancers in the drawingroom.
In the midst of a quadrille a jolly officer, who was dancing very beautifully
and with great liveliness, accidentally hit the musician in the back. His weak,
weary legs lost their equilibrium; and the musician, making ineffectual struggles
to keep his balance, measured his length on the floor.
Notwithstanding the sharp, hard sound made by his fall, almost everybody at
the first moment laughed.
But the musician did not rise. The guests grew silent, even the piano ceased
to sound. Delesof and the hostess were the first to reach the prostrate musician.
He was lying on his elbow, and gloomily looking at the ground. When he had
been lifted to his feet, and set in a chair, he threw back his hair from his forehead
with a quick motion of his bony hand, and began to smile without replying to the
questions that were put.
"Mr. Albert! Mr. Albert!" exclaimed the hostess. "Were you hurt? Where?
Now, I told you that you had better not try to dance…. He is so weak," she
added, addressing her guests. "It takes all his strength."
"Who is he?" some one asked the hostess.
"A poor man, an artist. A very nice young fellow; but he's a sad case, as you
can see."
She said this without paying the least heed to the musician's presence. He
suddenly opened his eyes as though frightened at something, collected himself,
and remarked to those who were standing about him, "It's nothing at all," said he
suddenly, arising from the chair with evident effort.
And in order to show that he had suffered no injury, he went into the middle
of the room, and was going to dance; but he tottered, and would have fallen
again, had he not been supported.
Everybody felt constrained. All looked at him, and no one spoke. The
musician's glance again lost its vivacity; and, apparently forgetting that any one
was looking, he put his hand to his knee. Suddenly he raised his head, advanced
one faltering foot, and, with the same awkward gesture as before, tossed back his
hair, and went to a violin-case, and took out the instrument.
"It was nothing at all," said he again, waving the violin. "Gentlemen, we will
have a little music."
"What a strange face!" said the guests among themselves.
"Maybe there is great talent lurking in that unhappy creature," said one of
them.
"Yes: it's a sad case, — a sad case," said another.
"What a lovely face!… There is something extraordinary about it," said
Delesof. "Let us have a look at him."…
II.
Albert by this time, not paying attention to any one, had raised his violin to
his shoulder, and was slowly crossing over to the piano, and tuning his
instrument. His lips were drawn into an expression of indifference, his eyes were
almost shut; but his lank, bony back, his long white neck, his crooked legs, and
disorderly black hair presented a strange but somehow not entirely ridiculous
appearance. After he had tuned his violin, he struck a quick chord, and, throwing
back his head, turned to the pianist who was waiting to accompany him.
"Melancholie, G sharp," he said, turning to the pianist with a peremptory
gesture. And immediately after, as though in apology for his peremptory gesture,
he smiled sweetly, and with the same smile turned to his audience again.
Tossing back his hair with the hand that held the bow, Albert stood at one
side of the piano, and, with a flowing motion of the bow, touched the strings.
Through the room there swept a pure, harmonious sound, which instantly
brought absolute silence.
At first, it was as though a ray of unexpectedly brilliant light had flashed
across the inner world of each hearer's consciousness; and the notes of the theme
immediately followed, pouring forth abundant and beautiful.
Not one discordant or imperfect note distracted the attention of the listeners.
All the tones were clear, beautiful, and full of meaning. All silently, with
trembling expectation, followed the development of the theme. From a state of
tedium, of noisy gayety, or of deep drowsiness, into which these people had
fallen, they were suddenly transported to a world whose existence they had
forgotten.
In one instant there arose in their souls, now a sentiment as though they were
contemplating the past, now of passionate remembrance of some happiness, now
the boundless longing for power and glory, now the feelings of humility, of
unsatisfied love, and of melancholy.
Now bitter-sweet, now vehemently despairing, the notes, freely
intermingling, poured forth and poured forth, so sweetly, so powerfully, and so
spontaneously, that it was not so much that sounds were heard, as that some sort
of beautiful stream of poetry, long known, but now for the first time expressed,
gushed through the soul.
At each note that he played, Albert grew taller and taller. At a little distance,
he had no appearance of being either crippled or peculiar. Pressing the violin to
his chin, and with an expression of listening with passionate attention to the
tones that he produced, he convulsively moved his feet. Now he straightened
himself up to his full height, now thoughtfully leaned forward.
His left hand, curving over spasmodically on the strings, seemed as though it
had swooned in its position, while it was only the bony fingers that changed
about spasmodically; the right hand moved smoothly, gracefully, without effort.
His face shone with complete, enthusiastic delight; his eyes gleamed with a
radiant, steely light; his nostrils quivered, his red lips were parted in rapture.
Sometimes his head bent down closer to his violin, his eyes almost closed,
and his face, half shaded by his long locks, lighted up with a smile of genuine
blissfulness. Sometimes he quickly straightened himself up, changed from one
leg to the other, and his pure forehead, and the radiant look which he threw
around the room, were alive with pride, greatness, and the consciousness of
power. Once the pianist made a mistake, and struck a false chord. Physical pain
was apparent in the whole form and face of the musician. He paused for a
second, and with an expression of childish anger stamped his foot, and cried,
"Moll, ce moll!" The pianist corrected his mistake; Albert closed his eyes,
smiled, and, again forgetting himself and everybody else, gave himself up with
beatitude to his work. Everybody who was in the room while Albert was playing
preserved an attentive silence, and seemed to live and breathe only in the music.
The gay officer sat motionless in a chair by the window, with his eyes fixed
upon the floor, and drawing long heavy sighs. The girls, awed by the universal