Volume XX, Issue XIII: Anna Karenina
Why Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina is a Masterpiece
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By Benjamin McEvoy
Levin’s religious transformation throughout Anna Karenina was Tolstoy’s own, one that transcended him by the end of the novel – a novel, you might be interested to know, originally started as a short work after Tolstoy was witness to an adulteresses’ suicide by train trammelling and blossomed out to half-a-decade of artistic struggle. By the time Tolstoy had finished Anna Karenina, he had vowed never to write another work, thinking the form to be a transgression against God. And perhaps it might. In the hands of a Maupassant or Sterne, it might be. But in the hands of a man who set the foundation for omniscient narration in the novel? (read more)
Анна Каренина, by LeoTolstoy
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Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.
Everything was in confusion in the Oblonskys’ house. The wife had discovered that the husband was carrying on an intrigue with a French girl, who had been a governess in their family, and she had announced to her husband that she could not go on living in the same house with him. This position of affairs had now lasted three days, and not only the husband and wife themselves, but all the members of their family and household, were painfully conscious of it. Every person in the house felt that there was no sense in their living together, and that the stray people brought together by chance in any inn had more in common with one another than they, the members of the family and household of the Oblonskys. The wife did not leave her own room, the husband had not been at home for three days. The children ran wild all over the house; the English governess quarreled with the housekeeper, and wrote to a friend asking her to look out for a new situation for her; the man-cook had walked off the day before just at dinner time; the kitchen-maid, and the coachman had given warning.
Three days after the quarrel, Prince Stepan Arkadyevitch Oblonsky—Stiva, as he was called in the fashionable world—woke up at his usual hour, that is, at eight o’clock in the morning, not in his wife’s bedroom, but on the leather-covered sofa in his study. He turned over his stout, well-cared-for person on the springy sofa, as though he would sink into a long sleep again; he vigorously embraced the pillow on the other side and buried his face in it; but all at once he jumped up, sat up on the sofa, and opened his eyes. “Yes, yes, how was it now?” he thought, going over his dream. “Now, how was it? To be sure! Alabin was giving a dinner at Darmstadt; no, not Darmstadt, but something American. Yes, but then, Darmstadt was in America. Yes, Alabin was giving a dinner on glass tables, and the tables sang, Il mio tesoro—not Il mio tesoro though, but something better, and there were some sort of little decanters on the table, and they were women, too,” he remembered. (read more)
The True Story of Amazing Grace
John Newton's story of redemption is riveting and well worth hearing again!
John Newton’s Dream of Redemption
The scene presented to my imagination was the harbour of Venice, where we had lately been. I thought it was night, and my watch upon the deck; and that, as I was walking to and fro by myself, a person came to me, I do not remember from whence, and brought me a ring, with an express charge to keep it carefully: assuring me, that while I preserved the ring I would be happy and successful: but if I lost or parted with it, I must expect nothing but trouble and misery.
I accepted the present and the terms willingly, not in the least doubting my own care to preserve it, and highly satisfied to have my happiness in my own keeping. I was engaged in these thoughts, when a second person came to me, and observing the ring on my finger, took occasion to ask me some questions concerning it. I readily told him all its virtues; and his answer expressed a surprise at my weakness, in expecting such effects from a ring. I think he reasoned with me for some time upon the impossibility of the thing; and at length urged me, in direct terms, to throw it away.
At first I was shocked with the proposal; but his insinuations prevailed. I began to reason and doubt myself, and at last plucked it off my finger, and dropped it over the ship’s side into the water; which it no sooner touched, than I saw, at the same instant, a terrible fire burst out from a range of mountains, a part of the Alos which appeared at some distance behind the city of Venice.
I saw the hills as distinctly as if awake, and they were all in flames. I perceived, too late, my folly; and my tempter, with an air of insult, informed me, that all the mercy of God in reserve for me was comprised in that ring, which I had wilfully thrown away. I understood that I must now go with him to the burning mountains, and that all the flames I saw were kindled on my account. I trembled, and was in great agony; so that it was surprising I did not then awake: but my dream continued; and when I thought myself upon the point of constrained departure, and stood, self-condemned, without plea or hope, suddenly, either a third person, or the same who brought the ring at first, came to me, (I am not certain which), and demanded the cause of my grief. I told him the plain case, confessing that I had ruined myself wilfully, and deserved no pity. He blamed my rashness; and asked, if I should be wiser supposing I had my ring again. I could hardly answer to this; for I thought it was gone beyond recall. I believe indeed, I had not time to answer, before I saw this unexpected friend go down under the water, just in the spot where I had dropped it; and he soon returned, bringing the ring with him. The moment he came on board, the flames in the mountain were extinguished, and my seducer left me.
Then was “the prey taken from the hand of the mighty, and the lawful captive delivered”. My fears were at an end, and with joy and gratitude I approached my kind deliverer to receive the ring again; but he refused to return it and spoke to this effect: ‘If you should be intrusted with this ring again, you would very soon bring yourself into the same distress; you are not able to keep it: but I will preserve it for you, and, whenever it is needful, will produce it in your behalf.’”
John Newton (1799 ?), The Life of the Rev. John Newton: “An Authentic Narrative” London: The Religious Tract Society, 20-21.
Glories of Your Name Are Spoken
Glories of your name are spoken, Zion, city of our God;
He whose word cannot be broken formed you for his own abode.
On the Rock of Ages founded, what can shake your sure repose?
With salvation’s walls surrounded, you may smile at all your foes.
See, the streams of living waters, springing from eternal love,
well supply your sons and daughters, and all fear of want remove.
Who can faint, while such a river ever will their thirst assuage?
Grace which, like the Lord, the giver, never fails from age to age.
Round each habitation hov’ring, see the cloud and fire appear
for a glory and a cov’ring, showing that the Lord is near.
Thus deriving from their banner light by night and shade by day,
safe they feed upon the manna which God gives them on their way.
Savior, since of Zion’s city I through grace a member am,
let the world deride or pity, I will glory in your name.
Fading are the worldlings’ pleasures, all their boasted pomp and show;
solid joys and lasting treasures none but Zion’s children know.
Text: John Newton, 1725-1807, alt. Tune: Austria, Franz Joseph Haydn
This hymn, based on ISAIAH 33 is a lesser known work of John Newton which is set to the tune of Hayden’s Austria or The German National Anthem.
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