Via Nikolai Podosokorskii, I see that many issues of Novyi mir (New World) are online; as of now they have most of 1925-30, everything since mid-1993, and isolated issues in between. November 1962 is there, presumably for Solzhenitsyn’s One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich (Один день Ивана Денисовича); you can see him sharing the issue with Samuil Marshak, Viktor Nekrasov, and Ernest Hemingway (“The Butterfly and the Tank”). In other issues you’ll find Fedin, Erenburg, and Zabolotskii; Grin and Grossman; Marietta Shaginian in 1934 on mentoring beginning writers; and a certain “Outsider” endorsing Sen. William Borah’s views on a 1920s Anglo-American dispute about the “freedom of the seas.” I hadn’t realized that Russian at the time used the abbreviation САСШ, which would be like NAUS (North American United States) instead of USA. There’s plenty of fun to be had browsing (the half- or fully forgotten names are maybe the most interesting — Solzhenitsyn is not hard to find elsewhere), and I’m sure the issues will be useful to people looking for something specific, too.
I’m still reading mostly nineteenth-century prose, but I also love early twentieth–century poetry, and I’ve been meaning to recommend these posts from the last few months:
- Two excellent translations of one of my favorite poets, Zinaida Gippius, by Boris Dralyuk,
- Here and here you’ll find Languagehat perceptively reading my very favorite writer, Marina Tsvetaeva,
- And Maya Chhabra (a.k.a. between4walls) is translating a Tsvetaeva play about Biron, Fortuna (Фортуна, 1923). It’s this Biron, not this Biron. Besides knowing Russian, Chhabra is a writer and an expert on the French Revolution; you can support her work on Patreon here at levels starting at a dollar.
A колодка can be a shoe-tree or the sole of a hand plane, but in the nineteenth century it could also be “a section of a tree, cut in two, with an opening carved in the center, in which in former times a prisoner’s legs were secured by fastening the ends of the two halves.” Not to be confused with колода ‘log, object made of a hollowed-out log, deck (of cards)’ or колодец ‘well.’
In Leskov’s early story “The Mocker” (a.k.a. “The Stinger,” “A Spiteful Fellow”; Язвительный: Рассказ чиновника особых поручений, 1863), some peasants get so angry at their overseer that they beat him and drive him away, while burning down the manor house of the absent landowner. One of them is put in a kolodka:
Начались допросы. Первого стали спрашивать Николая Данилова. Перед допросом я велел снять с него колодку. Он сел на лавку и равнодушно смотрел, как расклиняли колодку, а потом так же равнодушно встал и подошел к столу. (section 7)
The interrogations began. First to be questioned was Nikolai Danilov. Before the interrogation I ordered his kolodka to be taken off. He sat on a bench and watched indifferently as the kolodka was wedged apart, and then, just as indifferently, he stood up and walked over to the table.
Later he asks to sit down during his interrogation, because his “legs hurt from the kolodka.”
The overseer was an Englishman who had spent six years in Russia and thought he was “used to our people (narod) and our ways (poriadki),” even as he believed he could make his employer’s estates more productive by imposing a system (section 2). He gave the peasants less work, never used corporal punishment, and was thought kind and honest by all. But he wouldn’t give the peasants permission to go work in Ukraine or Chernigov province, and he imposed non-violent punishments that made the peasants call him язвительный ‘cruelly mocking,’ notoriously making a man who’d run off without permission sit without working in front of the men who were working and, when he ran away from this too, attaching him to a chair from the manor house with a pin and some string, “like a sparrow.” They’d rather be beaten than endure such shame, and they’d rather be sent to Siberia than take the overseer, Dane, back and be forgiven.
In Hugh McLean’s reading, “intellectually, Leskov is on the side of Dane, who represents progress, a more rational organization of labor, and civilized methods of discipline. But emotionally, and, as it were, nationally, Leskov cannot help gloating over Dane’s catastrophe” (114). I think he’s more on the side of the narrator’s merchant friend Rukavichnikov, who understands both Dane and the peasants and knows Dane will fail (section 5); the narrator and Rukavichnikov are men of good sense who want what’s best for everyone, but recognize that neither the peasants’ nature nor Dane’s nature will let them be anything but what they are, like the scorpion.
Leskov’s narrator, who is sent by the provincial governor to investigate first complaints and then the crimes against Dane, is a “special agent” (чиновник особых поручений), just like
Konstantin Aleksandrovich Saks in Druzhinin’s Polinka Saks (1847)
the author Pisemskii (1848-50)
Pavel Vikhrov in Pisemskii’s Men of the Forties (1869)
Andrei Ivanovich Druckart in Leskov’s Episcopal Justice (1877)
and no doubt others; if I remember I’ll add them to this list as I find them.
Alex K. catches Gary Saul Morson saying this:
Four years earlier , the “tsar-liberator” Alexander II (reigned 1855–1881) had at last abolished serfdom, a form of bondage making 90 percent of the population saleable property.
Which, AK says, is “quite an exaggeration. The serfs made up 34% of the empire’s total population and 38% of the total in its European part.” These figures are for the years leading up to the 1861 emancipation.
I turned to Peter Kolchin:
In 1678, according to [historical demographer Ia. E.] Vodarskii’s estimates, the male population of Russia, excluding the newly acquired Left-bank Ukraine and the Baltic region, was about 4.8 million. […] Nine-tenths of these people, or 4.3 million, were peasants. The peasant population was composed of the following groups:
Privately held peasants 2.3 million (53.5%)
Clerical peasants 0.7 million (16.3%)
Court peasants 0.4 million (9.3%)
State peasants 0.9 million (20.9%)
Thus, serfs (privately held and clerical) made up about seven-tenths of the peasant population [or 60-65% of the total population – EM]. (27)
Later, Kolchin gives these figures, citing V. M. Kabuzan: in 1795, the male population was 89.8% peasants (53.9% serfs and 36.0% state peasants), while in 1858 the male population was 83.0% peasants (39.2% serfs and 43.8% state peasants). Noblemen were 2.0% of the population in 1795 and only 1.6% in 1858. Interestingly the ratios of serfs to nobles (between 24 and 27 to 1) and peasants to nobles (between 45 and 52 to 1) are relatively constant, but the percentages of serfs, peasants, and noblemen out of the whole population all decline as the category of “other” jumps from 8.2% of the population in 1795 to 15.4% in 1858 (52, 366).
A charitable and, I think, a likely way to interpret Morson’s remark is that he meant that in 1861, Alexander II abolished a system that had once, as in 1678 and 1795, enslaved about 90% of the population, if you consider court peasants and state peasants “saleable property.” I could even imagine an editor changing “a form of bondage that once had made” to “a form of bondage making,” believing it made no difference.
I still don’t know if I get the status of state peasants (I imagine them as the ones who “used the Schism as a pretext and hid in the North, away from your pious tsars”). Kolchin says that “over the course of the eighteenth century hundreds of thousands of them had the misfortune of being converted into serfs as part of huge grants of land and peasants made by the tsars to favored noblemen” (39) and compares them to “free blacks in the slaveholding United States, like whom they were ‘slaves without masters’” (26). If combining them with serfs sensu stricto for an impressive 90% is questionable, it also seems misleading to group state and court peasants with the nobles, clergy, merchants, and raznochintsy when calculating this sort of percentage.
In the afterword to “The Old Man” (Старик, 1857), I said the story was different from other things written by Russian women of the time: it had a first-person female narrator and no escape plot (Catriona Kelly says the provincial tale with an escape plot is the prototypical piece of women’s fiction in Russia from 1840-1880). I was nervous to say even that much. I haven’t read enough women’s writing from the period to be confident of anything — even with Ol’ga N., I’ve probably only read 10% of what she wrote. But this week I read something by a different woman that seems to confirm the point. It would be hard to find a purer escape-plot story than “The Ikimsky Family” (Семейство Икимских, 1864), which has several kinds of escape (from the father through marriage, from marriage through adultery, and from adultery through suicide).
It’s a straightforward, enjoyable story, in both a casual “what’s going to happen to so-and-so next?” way and an almost as casual “what’s the lesson of the various sisters’ fates?” way. Ikimsky, the father of four girls and three absent boys, uses all the family’s resources for unrestrained self-indulgence, not even helping his seriously ill wife. He’s mean to his bored and miserable daughters, who long to get married and get away. The family is not poor, and the daughters are not ugly, but they don’t attract even the better provincial prospects. The youngest considers herself beautiful, but her sisters think she’s desirable only because she is young, while the oldest sister, who is “well past twenty,” and the next oldest, who is “about the same age,” consider themselves old maids (!).
Their father hurts their chances by making them live on a small allowance, with no money for nice fabric for pretty dresses, and no chance to go anywhere to meet anyone. He sends away their rare suitors if he doesn’t see any advantage in the match for himself (though when a rich man comes, he uses a shameless trick to compel him to propose).
Long passages read like admonitions that young married women must obey their husbands and resist temptation, but the ultimate didactic message is plausibly that a young single woman’s best guide for happiness is spontaneous physical passion.
The second sister, Lidiia, survives the story but without much happiness; her father gets rid of the one man who wants to marry her, and the other man she’s drawn to prefers her younger, married sister Masha.
The oldest sister, Iuliia, takes a late opportunity to marry a raznochinets doctor in his 50s who loves her, and even though he’s neither rich nor good-looking they seem happy… but she dies in childbirth.
We learn the most about the youngest sister. Masha’s eventual husband is perfect in every respect but his body: he loves her, he’s rich, he’s educated, he’s nice, and he’s willing to help her unmarried sisters escape from their father. But he’s a hunchback. When his future wife first sees him, she exclaims “what a hideous man!” (“Ах, какой урод!” 535). It turns out that none of Masha’s husband’s good qualities can make up for the sexual attractiveness he lacks, and she leaves him for the first dashing flirt to come along (to the latter’s chagrin: he hadn’t been serious). Her husband was willing to send her 100 rubles a month so she could live independently if she didn’t love him, but she kills herself when her lover turns out to be an unkind gold-digger.
The third sister, Tanechka, who spends most of the story abroad with a sick aunt, has better luck. Lively and impulsive, she had once tried to find love and escape by blowing a kiss to an attractive young stranger riding by; he stopped, ran back, kissed her, and then rode on. Years later, he comes back to the house as Tanechka’s brother’s friend and the two instantly recognize each other. At the end of the story, they are on a path toward happily ever after thanks to a moment of chemistry and a coincidence.
It looks like “The Ikimsky Family” was written by Anna Vasil’evna Pavlova. It’s signed “Novinskaia,” Pavlova’s pseudonym according to Prince N. N. Golitsyn’s 1889 bibliography of women writers, a 1902 Czech encyclopedia (where the pseudonym is spelled Novická), and Brokgauz and Efron (1890-1907). The funny thing is that more recent sources (including the online Great Biographical Encyclopedia and at least one scholarly book) give Pavlova’s dates as 1852-1877, which means she would have turned 8 around the time Novinskaia started publishing in 1860.
None of the older reference books gives a birth year, so I suspect the solution is that Pavlova was Novinskaia, but was born before 1852. One book attributed “The Ikimsky Family” to Engel’gardt, but I’m increasingly sure that’s a mistake. Engel’gardt had a different story in the previous month’s issue of the same journal, and my subjective impression is that “The Ikimsky Family” wasn’t written by the same person as the things I’ve read by Ol’ga N.
Click one of the links below to download “The Old Man,” an 1857 short story by Ol’ga N. (Sof’ia Engel’gardt), in English and Russian.
You can get it in .mobi format (for Kindle e-readers), .epub (for many other e-readers and apps), or as a .pdf. It’s licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 license. Feel free to read it, distribute it, use part or all of it in an anthology of women writers or Crimean War fiction, or whatever you like under the license terms.
Below is a list of works by Sof’ia Vladimirovna Engel’gardt (1828-1894, a.k.a. Sophie Engelhardt, pseudonym Ol’ga N., in Russian Софья Владимировна Энгельгардт, Ольга Н., Ольга N.). As always, additions and corrections are welcome.
English titles should be treated as provisional; in many cases I have read only the title, and knowing the content of the work would require some of them to be changed. Where possible I have used English titles provided by Mary Zirin, Jehanne M. Gheith, and Steve Dodson.
Only those works with hyperlinks have been verified. Other entries have been compiled from past bibliographies, including this 1891 publication by the Imperial Academy of Sciences, this 1904 entry in the Encyclopedic Dictionary, this list from the Great Biographical Encyclopedia, and the one from Zirin’s article on her in the Dictionary of Russian Women Writers. See also the recent online republications of her works in modern Russian orthography by M. A. Biriukova on proza.ru.
Genre descriptions used as subtitles are translated as follows: rasskaz becomes “story,” byl’ becomes “true story,” and povest’, which indicates a work longer than a rasskaz but shorter than a novel, becomes “novella” (rather than “tale”).
Unfortunately the site gattsuk.ru, which had begun to put up issues of A. Gattsuk’s Gazette, has lapsed, along with several parallel sites for other journals. The archive.org Wayback Machine doesn’t seem to have captured the text of the journal (though you can use it to find some tables of contents formerly on gattsuk.ru). I’ve left links in place in case gattsuk.ru is reactivated in the future.
“Деревня: Повесть” (The Country: A Novella) Otechestvennye zapiski 90 (September 1853).
“Утро вечера мудренее: Повесть” (Night Brings Counsel: A Novella) Otechestvennye zapiski 91 (November 1853).
“Суженого конем не объедешь: Повесть” (There’s No Escaping Your Intended: A Novella) Otechestvennye zapiski 92 (February 1854): 387-458. Zirin translates the title literally as “You Won’t Escape Your Intended Mate on Horseback” and describes it as “a rare first-person tale: a woman writes a letter to a new lover detailing the sad history of her longtime fascination with a monster of egotism named Iurii Nagibin.”
“Не так живи, как хочется, а так, как Бог велит: Повесть” (Live Not As You Like, But As God Commands: A Novella) Sovremennik 48 (December 1854): 269-342. The cerebral Viktor Tarbenev has to decide whether to keep a promise to Anna’s dying mother to marry the young and incurious Anna, or whether he should instead marry the intelligent widow Lizaveta Vasil’evna. (See this post.)
“На весь свет не угодишь” (You Can’t Please Everyone) Otechestvennye zapiski 98 (February 1855).
“Сон в руку: Рассказ” (A Prophetic Dream: A Story) Panteon (April 1855).
“Ум придет — пора пройдет” (By the Time You Figure It Out, It’s Too Late) Otechestvennye zapiski 101 (July 1855).
“Конь и о четырех ногах да спотыкается” (A Horse Has Four Legs, and Even So It Stumbles) (play) Otechestvennye zapiski 108 (October 1856): 270-311.
“Сила солому ломит” (What Can the Mouse Do against the Cat?) Biblioteka dlia chteniia 153 (January 1859).
“Мираж” (Mirage) I-XII in Russkii vestnik vol. 21, book 1 (May 1859): 129-76, second part apparently in Russkii vestnik vol. 21, book 2 (May 1859)
“Обочлись: Повесть” (They Miscalculated: A Novella) Biblioteka dlia chteniia 158 (January 1860): 1-84 (pp. 35-54 are missing from the linked Google Books copy). Title translated by Dodson.
“Княжны Тройденовы: Повесть” (The Princesses Troydenova: A Novella) Russkii vestnik vol. 25, book 1 (February 1860): 554-99. Zirin: “three sisters orphaned as infants by the War of 1812 grow old on their rundown provincial estate. Their personalities are set by the time the family fortune hidden from Napoleon’s troops is recovered in the 1850s, and the money no longer has power to change their lives.”
“Письма из Парижа” (Letters from Paris) Moskovskie vedomosti 162, 180, 199 (1860).
“Скользкий путь” (A Slippery Slope) Russkaia rech’ (1861): 83-89. A different source gives the title as “Скользкий шаг” (A Slippery Step). Gheith describes this story as an “elaborated society tale” (“Women of the 1830s and 1850s,” in A History of Women’s Writing in Russia, ed. Adele Marie Barker and Gheith, Cambridge, England: Cambridge UP, 2002, p. 89).
“Судьба или характер?” (Fate or Character?) Russkii vestnik 36 (November 1861): 125-76. Zirin: Engel’gardt here “contrasts the lot of three women: a principled ‘woman of the ’60s,’ a religious idealist, and a flighty widow who takes life and men as she finds them.”
“Камень преткновения” (A Stumbling Block) Russkii vestnik 42 (December 1862): 590-635. Zirin translates the title as “The Touchstone” and says that in it “the heroine finds men from both ends of the ideological spectrum, an uncritical admirer of Western ways and a fanatic Slavophile, equally repressive and patriarchal in their attitudes toward women.”
“Семейство Турениных” (The Turenin Family) Otechestvennye zapiski 146 (January 1863): 296-402. Gheith notes that Engelgardt here “places a female servant in the key narrative role” (“Women of the 1830s and 1850s,” p. 91).
“Два новоселья: Повесть” (Two Housewarmings: A Novella) Russkii vestnik 52 (July 1864): 170-245.
“Лиза” (Liza) Epokha 8 (August 1864): 1-26. The beginning and end of the story is told by a male narrator, with a section inserted in the middle in the voice of the title character. The plot concerns a love triangle (or quadrangle), the question of whether it’s better to have an illicit affair or not when marriage is impossible, and the characters’ opinions of George Sand. (See this post.)
“Где же счастье?: Повесть в письмах” (Where Is Happiness?: A Novella in Letters) Russkii vestnik 53 (September 1864): 80-154. This work is signed with a Cyrillic “Н. О.” (N. O.) instead of “Ol’ga N.” For its authorship by Engelgardt see L. N. Nazarova, “Sovremennitsa ob ‘Ottsakh i detiakh,’” in I. S. Turgenev: Voprosy biografii i tvorchestva, ed. N. N. Mostovskaia and N. S. Nikitina (Leningrad: Nauka, 1990), pp. 189-94.
See also Dubia, below.
“Два свидания” (Two Meetings) Russkii vestnik 56 (March 1865): 216-76.
“Враг горами качает: Повесть” (The Enemy Shakes the Mountains) Russkii vestnik 59-60 (October-November 1865).
“Не сошлись: Повесть” (They Did Not Come Together: A Novella) Russkii vestnik 68 (April 1867): 776-817. Republished as a separate book the same year: Не сошлись: Повесть Ольги Н. (Moscow: Univ. Tip., 1867). 44 pp.
“Не одного поля ягоды: Повесть” (Not Cut from the Same Cloth: A Novella) Russkii vestnik 76.2 (August 1868): 485-549.
“Сон бабушки и внучки” (The Dream of a Great-Aunt and Great-Niece) Vestnik Evropy (June 1869): 647-?. Zirin: this story “weaves an intricate tapestry about the ways in which older women exercise power in the domestic sphere through control of the pursestrings and the exercise of a superstitious religiosity.”
“Н. Ф. Щербина” (N. F. Shcherbina) Zaria 2 (May 1870): 67-93.
“На родине: Повесть” (In One’s Homeland: A Novella) Russkii vestnik 88 (August 1870).
“Так Бог велел: Повесть” (So God Commanded: A Novella) Russkii vestnik 100 (August 1872): 532-96. Apparently republished as part or all of Так Бог велел: Повести Ольги N. Russkaia biblioteka 5 (Moscow: Univ. Tip., 1907). 92 pp.
Красное яичко (The Little Red Egg). Knizhki dlia shkol 71. Moscow: O-vo rasprostraneniia polezn. kn., 1873. 30 pp.
Рассказ матери Маргариты (Mother Margarita’s Story). Knizhki dlia shkol 73. Moscow: O-vo rasprostraneniia polezn. kn., 1873. 39 pp. [2nd ed.], Moscow, 1878. Knizhki dlia shkol 168. 40 pp. Published on proza.ru in 2015 by M. A. Biriukova.
“Воспоминания на даче: Отрывок из романа” (Recollections at a Summer Cottage: An Excerpt from a Novel) Russkii vestnik 112 (July 1874).
Коробейник: Три рассказа: 1. Звезда 2. Арапка 3. Петушок колдун (The Pedlar: Three Stories. 1. The Star 2. Arapka 3. The Cockerel-Sorcerer). Knizhki dlia shkol 85. Moscow: O-vo rasprostraneniia poleznykh knig, 1874. 46 pp. 2nd ed., Moscow, 1890. 51 pp. 3rd ed., Moscow, 1897. 64 pp.
Oeuvres de Pouchkine, traduites du russe par Sophie Engelhardt, née de Novosiltsoff: Boris Godounoff; le Chevalier avare; Mozart et Saliéri; les Nuits d’Égypte (Pushkin’s Works, Translated from the Russian by Sophie Engelhardt, née de Novosiltsoff: Boris Godunov, The Covetous Knight, Mozart and Salieri, Egyptian Nights), Paris: Berger-Levrault, 1875.
“Марфа: Быль” (Martha: A True Story) Gazeta A. Gattsuka, no. 1-2 (January 8th and 14th, 1876). Just before the emancipation, a peasant girl is seduced by a nobleman, then persuaded by a priest to keep the resulting child; after the child’s early death, she becomes an increasingly proud and uncontrollable faith healer. Her story is mediated through two male voices: the narrator hears about her from the priest who intervened in her life. (See this post.)
“Из давно прошедшего: Рассказ” (From the Distant Past: A Story) Gazeta A. Gattsuka, no. 8-9 (1877).
“Заблудшая: Рассказ” (A Woman Gone Astray: A Story) Gazeta A. Gattsuka, no. 12-17 (1877).
“Черный сургуч: Быль” (Black Sealing Wax: A True Story) Gazeta A. Gattsuka, no. 32-35 (1877).
“Аришина тайна” (Arisha’s Secret) Sovremennye izvestiia (issues from July 1878).
“Рано или поздно: Рассказ” (Sooner or Later: A Story) Gazeta A. Gattsuka, no. 1-2 (1878).
“Отцовский грех: Рассказ” (A Father’s Sin: A Story) Gazeta A. Gattsuka, no. 32-35 (1878). Republished as a separate book the same year: Отцовский грех ([Moscow]: tip. A Gattsuka, 1878). 34 pp.
“Две любви: Рассказ” (Two Loves: A Story) Gazeta A. Gattsuka, no. 4-9 (1879).
“Старая вера: Повесть” (The Old Faith: A Novella) Russkii vestnik 140 (March 1879).
“Царицыны четки: Рассказ” (The Empress’s Beads: A Story) Gazeta A. Gattsuka, no. 35-42 (1879).
“Селехонские: Рассказ” (The Selekhonskys: A Story) Gazeta A. Gattsuka, no. 13-20 (1880). Republished as a separate book the same year: Селехонские: Рассказ Ольги N. (Moscow: Tip. A. Gattsuka, 1880). 71 pp.
“Бабушкин дом: Повесть” (Grandmother’s House: A Novella) Gazeta A. Gattsuka, no. 28-34 (1880).
Клад: Рассказ странника (The Treasure: The Story of a Wanderer), St. Petersburg: Dosug i delo, 1880. 24 pp. Published on proza.ru in 2015 by M. A. Biriukova.
“Злоба дня: Повесть” (The Talk of the Town: A Novella) Russkii vestnik 152 (April 1881): 748-831.
“Вечер на святках: Святочный рассказ” (A Yuletide Evening: A Christmas Story) Gazeta A. Gattsuka, no. 1-7 (1882).
“Один Бог правду видит: Рассказ” (God Alone Sees the Truth: A Story) Gazeta A. Gattsuka, no. 41-46 (1882).
“Не первая и не последняя: Рассказ” (She’s Neither the First Nor the Last: A Story) Russkii vestnik (September 1883). Zirin: this story “depicts a woman’s involvement with a committed revolutionary terrorist and her disillusionment with the cause after the death of her lover in the assassination of Alexander II in 1881.”
“Человеческое сердце — загадка: Рассказ” (The Human Heart is a Riddle: A Story) Gazeta A. Gattsuka, no. 2-7 (1883).
“Доброе дело — красное яичко” (A Good Deed — The Little Red Egg) Detskii otdykh (1884). Cf. Красное яичко under 1873.
“Быль сороковых годов” (A True Story of the Forties) Russkii vestnik 174 (December 1884): 523-75.
“Изгнанница Бориса Годунова: Историческая повесть” (She Was Exiled by Boris Godunov: A Historical Novella) Detskii otdykh (January-February 1885). Published on proza.ru in 2015 by M. A. Biriukova.
“Просьба на Екатерину II” (A Petition to Catherine II) Detskii otdykh (July 1885). Published on proza.ru in 2015 by the Biblio-Biuro Strizheva-Biriukovoi.
“Из воспоминаний” (From My Memoirs) Russkii vestnik (October-November 1887). See also 1889, 1890.
“Из прошлого” (From the Past) Russkii vestnik (July 1889). See also 1887, 1890.
“Русские люди и русский край” (Russian People and the Russian Land) Detskii otdykh (January 1889).
“Николай Алексеевич Северцов” (Nikolai Alexeyevich Severtsov) Detskii otdykh (1889).
“Из воспоминаний” (From My Memoirs) Russkoe obozrenie (November 1890). Published on proza.ru in 2016 by the Biblio-Biuro Strizheva-Biriukovoi. See also 1887, 1889.
“Быль” (A True Story) Sever, no. 20 (1890).
“Петр Иванович Корондеев: Быль” (Pyotr Ivanovich Korondeyev: A True Story) Russkoe obozrenie (May 1891).
Святочный рассказ (A Christmas Story), Moscow: A. A. Levenson, 1891. 27 pp. See also 1882.
“Пропажа: Рассказ старосветского помещика” (What Went Missing: The Story of an Old-World Landowner) Russkoe obozrenie (August 1892).
One source lists “Семейство Икимских: Повесть” (The Ikimsky Family: A Novella) Russkii vestnik 52 (August 1864): 522-89 among stories by Engelgardt. However, that story is signed “Novinskaia” at the end of the story, in the table of contents, and when it was published as a separate book. Novinskaia was apparently the pseudonym of Anna Vasilevna Pavlova (1852?-1877); Pavlova is listed in multiple sources as having been born in 1852, but surely either the birth year or the attribution of the pseudonym is incorrect, as “Novinskaia” began publishing in 1860. (On “The Ikimsky Family,” see also this post.)