Sergeevich Turgenev (1818 -
The Russian Writer
Ivan Turgenev. A
massive Russian resource on
Turgenev with a section
in English. Includes Turgenev's
biography, translations and
photographs.Before I write this
little tale, I wondered who the gentleman who
wrote it was, and I only had this information in my
"The Dog and the
Sparrow," by Ivan Tourgenieff.
at what I found out, he was a bit of a hero in the
written word of Russia. Though the powers that were
didn't think so at the time.
From the Archives of November 18th 1878,
SENILIA: PROSE POEMS BY IVAN TURGENIEFF.;
1878.--IN THE VILLAGE.
THE OLD WOMAN. MY DOG. THE BEGGAR. A SELF-SATISFIED
MAN. A RULE OF
LIFE. THE END OF THE WORLD. MASCHA. THE BLOCKHEAD.
AN EASTERN LEGEND.
THE TWO QUATRAINS. THE SPARROW. THE
It is the last day of July; a thousand
around is Russia--home. The whole heaven is a
shadowless azure; only
one solitary, tiny cloud floats therein, and melts
away. Perfect calm,
heat. An atmosphere like lukewarm
Here is the
"The Dog and the Sparrow,"
on my way home from hunting, and was walking up the
garden avenue. My dog was running on in front of
Suddenly he slackened his pace, and began to
steal forward as though he had scented game
along the avenue; and I saw on the ground a young
sparrow, its beak edged with yellow, and its head
covered with soft down. It had fallen from the
nest, due to a strong wind blowing and shaking the
birch trees in the avenue; and there it sat and
never stirred, except to stretch out its half grown
wings in a helpless
was slowly approaching it, when suddenly, darting
from the tree overhead, an old black-throated
sparrow dropt like a stone right before his nose,
and all rumpled and flustered, with a plaintiff
desperate cry flung itself once, twice, at the open
jaws with their great teeth.
It would save its young one; it screened it with
its own body; the tiny frame quivered with terror;
the little cries grew wild and hoarse; it sank and
died. It had sacrificed itself.
huge monster the dog must have seemed to it! and
yet it could not stay up there on its safe bough, A
power stronger than its own will tore it
My dog had stood still, and
slunk back, away from the screeching bird. He too
had felt that same power. He came to me; and
a feeling of pure reverence came over me as I
passed on by.
No, don't laugh, It really
was reverence I felt before the heroic bird and the
passionate outburst of its love. Such a feeling
of extreme honor and respect for something
. Love, I
thought, is verily stronger than death and the
terror of death. By love, only by love, is life
sustained and moved.
"Oh my children such
a sad little tale, but I think the little chick
would have lived for the other parent sparrow would
have fed it. This is why you must never move a
young bird if you find one, for so long as the
parents can hear the birds squawks, they will
continue to feed
Here is also
an archive from the same newspaper, noting Ivan
TURGENIEFF DEAD"; NOTABLE CAREER OF RUSSIA'S
DYING IN FRANCE AFTER A LONG ILLNESS --THE PURPOSE
OF HIS WORKS--A
LIFELONG ENEMY OF DESPOTISM.
Ivan Turgenieff, the
Russian novelist, died at
Bongival, France, on Monday, after a long illness.
The saying that
Russia cannot produce more than one great man at a
time in any
department is not altogether just; but to many
Ivan Sergeyevich Turgenev
(1818-1883) This came from a Russian