Pan Michael: An Historical Novel of Poland, the Ukraine, and Turkey; a Sequel to "With Fire and Sword" and "The Deluge".

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Little, Brown,, 1898 - Poland - 527 pages
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At a time when the state of Poland was constantly undergoing political turmoil, Henryk Sienkiewicz wasn't afraid to ruffle feathers. Having already achieved success in his career around the end of the 19th century, the Polish journalist negatively portrayed the Teutonic Order at a time in which his audience lived under German rule. At the same time, he meticulously included historical language in his works, a sort of celebration of authenticity and the past. He would earn a Nobel Prize in 1905 for "outstanding merits as an epic writer." Sienkiewicz mastered historical novels that vividly put readers in places as distinct as 17th century Poland and Ancient Rome. He is still well regarded today for novels like "With Fire and Sword", "The Deluge", "Quo Vadis", and "Fire in the Steppe". Pan Michael is a historical novel that takes place across Eastern Europe, including Poland, Turkey, and the Ukraine.

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Page 527 - Gazette. Such a writer as Sienkiewicz, the Polish novelist, whose works belong with the very best of their class, and who has a kind of Shakesperian freshness, virility, and power of characterization, is sufficient to give dignity to the literature of a whole generation in his own country. His three novels on the Wars of the Polish Commonwealth, and his superb psychological story, " Without Dogma," form a permanent addition to modern literature.
Page 478 - The night was in August, warm and fragrant. The moon illuminated the niche with a silver light; the faces of the little knight and Basia were bathed in its rays. Lower down, in the court of the castle, were groups of sleeping soldiers and the bodies of those slain during the cannonade; for there had been no time yet for their burial. The calm light of the moon crept over those bodies, as if that hermit of the sky wished to know who was sleeping from weariness merely, and who had fallen into the eternal...
Page 506 - Kamenyets, sorrow for the Commonwealth, ruined by the hands of the followers of the Crescent; and finally he finished his eulogy with this prayer: — " O Lord, they will turn churches into mosques, and chant the Koran in places where till this time the Gospel has been chanted. Thou hast cast us down, O Lord; thou hast turned thy face from us, and given us into the power of the foul Turk. Inscrutable are thy decrees; but who, O Lord, will resist the Turk now ? What armies will war with him on the...
Page 523 - Here ends this series of books, written in the course of a number of years and with no little toil, for the strengthening of hearts.
Page 505 - She repeated it because that beloved one had commanded her, for that was the last message which he had sent her ; but in that repetition and in those expressions were mere sounds, without substance, without truth, without meaning and solace. No; "This life is nothing" meant merely regret, darkness, despair, torpor, merely misfortune incurable, life beaten and broken, — an erroneous announcement that there was nothing above her, neither mercy nor hope ; that there was merely a desert, and it will...
Page 506 - Lord; thou hast turned thy face from us, and given us into the power of the foul Turk. Inscrutable are thy decrees; but who, O Lord, will resist the Turk now ? What armies will war with him on the boundaries ? Thou, from whom nothing in the world is concealed, — thou knowest best that there is nothing superior to our cavalry! What cavalry can move for thee, O Lord, as ours can ? Wilt thou set aside defenders behind whose shoulders all Christendom might glorify thy name? O kind Father, do not desert...
Page 216 - The horde seek in vain to escape singly ; in vain they circle around ; they rush to the right, to the left, to the front, to the rear ; the circle is closed up completely ; the robbers come therefore more closely together in spite of themselves.
Page 479 - ... of the slain. Their lanterns were gleaming on the place of combat like fireflies. Some of them called to one another; and one was singing in an undertone a sweet song not beseeming the work to which he was given at the moment : — " Nothing is silver, nothing is gold to me now, Nothing is fortune. Let me die at the fence, then, of hunger, If only near thee.
Page 503 - Lord, to endure this patiently; give her peace!" Ah! Ketling hastened, not waiting even till the troops had marched out; for at that moment the bastions quivered, an awful roar rent the air, bastions, towers, walls, horses, guns, living men, corpses, masses of earth, all torn upward with a flame, and mixed, pounded together, as it were, into one dreadful cartridge, flew toward the sky.

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