OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Krilof and His Fables/The Monkeys

The Monkeys.
When folks imitate discreetly, there is no wonder in their gaining by the process. But, as to indiscreet imitation—Heaven protect us! what a terrible thing that is!
I will give you an illustration of this, brought from a far-off land.
All who have seen monkeys know how fond they are of imitating everything. Well, one day, in Africa, where monkeys are numerous, there was a whole troop of them sitting on the boughs and branches of a thick tree, and look­ing aside at a hunter, watching how he rolled about on the grass among his nets. Each one gave her neighbour a quiet ​nudge in the ribs, and they all began to whisper to each other—
"Just look at the fine fellow! Really it would seem that there is no end to his frolics! How he rolls over and over—turns himself inside out, and coils himself up into a ball so that one can't see either his hands or his feet! It is true that we are already well skilled in everything, but such science as that has never even been seen among us before. Sister beauties! it would not be a bad idea for us to imitate it! That fellow seems to have amused himself enough; perhaps he will go away, and then we will at once——"
See, he really has gone away and left the nets to them.
"There now!" they say, "ought we to lose any time? Let's go and make an experiment."
The beauties descend. For the dear guests a quantity of nets have been spread down below. They begin to turn head over heels, to roll about, to envelope and entangle themselves in the toils. They cry—they squeal! their joy is at its height. But see! when it comes to extricating them­ selves from the nets, it is a bad business for them! Their entertainer has been all along on the watch, and, when he sees the time has come, he provides himself with sacks and walks up to his guests. Fain would they take to flight, but not one of them can get free now; and so, one after the other, they are all made prisoners.
# Krilof and His Fables/The Ducat

The Ducat.
Is civilization profitable? Profitable!—that is not the question. But we often give the name of civilization to luxury's seductions, and even to demoralization. There­fore you must pay close attention, so that, when you rid people of their superficial coarseness, you may not at the same time rob them of their good qualities, enfeeble their souls, spoil their morals, deprive them of their simplicity, and, having given them in exchange merely an empty brilliance, burden them with infamy instead of good repute.
About this sacred truth one might make a whole volume of serious sermons, but serious speaking does not befit every one; so, half in jest, I am going to prove it to you by means of a fable.
A Peasant, a thorough blockhead (there are plenty of such people everywhere) found a Ducat lying on the ground. The Ducat was dusty and dirty, but three double handfuls of five-kopeck pieces were ready to be given to the Peasant in ex­ change for it.
"Stop a bit!" thinks the Peasant: "they'll give me twice as much presently. I've hit on such a plan that they'll try to get it from me with both hands."
​Hereupon, having taken sand, gravel, chalk, and brick­ dust, our Moujik sets to work, and with all his might chafes the Ducat against the gravel, grinds it with sand and brick­ dust, and rubs it with chalk.
Well, to speak briefly, he wants to make it shine like fire, and like actual fire the Ducat begins to gleam. Only—its weight diminished, and so the Ducat lost its ancient value.
[During the early years of the reign of Alexander I., a great deal was done in the name of enlightenment. It was pro­ posed to found educational establishments all over. Russia. Three Universities were reformed, and two were completely reconstituted; three High Schools were founded, together with twenty-six Gymnasia and eighty District Schools. A thirst for instruction began to make itself felt among all the classes of the Russian people. The rich subscribed liberally; even the poor "laid their mite on the altar of national en­lightenment." Between the years 1800 and 1812 more than three hundred educational establishments of different kinds were opened. In the eventful year 1812 itself no less than fifty-one new schools were made available.
Even the peasants contributed towards the funds which were subscribed for the new colleges and schools. But in these new schools French teachers exercised great influence, and Krilof detested that influence as being hostile to patriotic feeling. Hence arose his want of sympathy with that desire for education which for a time seemed likely to become universal.]
# The Works of Alexander Pope (1717)/The Wife of Bath, from Chaucer

This is the first time this particular work appeared in print. [Based on Alexander Pope: A Bibliography Volume 1, Part 1 (1922), by Reginald Harvey Griffith, p. 66.]
THE
WIFE of BATH
HER
PROLOGUE,
FROM
CHAUCER.
THE
WIFE of BATH.
FROM
CHAUCER.
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# Krilof and His Fables/The Fox as Architect

The Fox as Architect.
A certain Lion was exceedingly fond of fowls, but they never throve with him. And that was no wonder. They lived utterly free from all restrictions; and so some of them were stolen, others disappeared of their own accord.
To remedy this unpleasantness and loss, the Lion deter­ mined to build a large poultry-yard, and so cunningly to design and arrange it, as entirely to keep out thieves, but to provide the fowls with plenty of space and all things needful.
Well, they inform the Lion that the Fox is a great hand at building, so the affair is entrusted to him. The building is begun and ended successfully, the Fox working at it with all conceivable industry and talent. The building is looked at and examined in detail. Truly, it is a work which can­ not be too much admired. Everything is there which any one can possibly desire—food close at hand, perches inserted everywhere, refuges from cold and heat, and retired little places for the sitting hens. All honour and glory to our good Fox! A liberal reward is bestowed on him, and an order is given to transfer the fowls, without loss of time, to their new abode.
But is the change of any use? Not at all. It is true that ​the building seems firm and massive, and the walls enclosing it lofty. But yet the fowls daily become fewer and fewer. No one can imagine whence this evil springs. But the Lion orders a watch to be set; and whom do they catch? Why that villain, the Fox. It is true that he had constructed the building so that no one else could break in and steal; but he had taken care to leave a little hole by which he could get into it himself.
# Krilof and His Fables/The Lion, the Chamois, and the Fox

The Lion, the Chamois, and the Fox.
A Lion was chasing a Chamois along a valley. He had all but caught it, and with longing eyes was anticipating a certain and a satisfying repast. It seemed as if it were utterly impossible for the victim to escape; for a deep ravine appeared to bar the way for both the hunter and the hunted. But the nimble Chamois, gathering together all its strength, shot like an arrow from a bow across the chasm, and stood still on the rocky cliff on the other side. Our Lion pulled up short. But at that moment a friend of his happened to be near at hand. That friend was the Fox.
"What!" said he, "with your strength and agility, is it ​possible that you will yield to a feeble Chamois? You have only to will, and you will be able to work wonders. Though the abyss be deep, yet, if you are only in earnest, I am certain you will clear it. Surely you can confide in my disinterested friendship. I would not expose your life to danger if I were not so well aware of your strength and dexterity."
The Lion's blood waxed hot, and began to boil in his veins. He flung himself with all bis might into space. But he could not clear the chasm; so down he tumbled headlong, and was killed by the fall. Then what did his dear friend do? He cautiously made his way down to the bottom of the ravine, and there, out in the open space and the free air, seeing that the Lion wanted neither flattery nor obedience now, he set to work to pay the last sad rites to his dead friend, and in a month picked his bones clean.
# Krilof and His Fables/The String of Carts

The String of Carts.
A number of Carts, laden with pottery, were going along in a string, and had to descend a steep hill. Having left the others to wait a little on the top of the hill, the owner began very cautiously to lead down the first cart. The good horse which drew it almost supported the weight on its croup, not allowing it to roll down too fast. But a young Horse up on top took to blaming the poor animal for every step it made:
"Ah, praiseworthy animal! how wonderful! Just see, it crawls like a crab. See there, it has almost stumbled over a stone! Look how awry, how askew, are its movements! ​Ah! it's bolder now. There's a jostle again! Only here you ought to have gone a little more to the left. Oh, what a donkey! It would be all very well if this were night, or if it were going uphill. But now it is going downhill, and by daylight. One loses all patience while watching it. Really it's a water-carrier you ought to be, if you have no sense in you. But just look at us!—see how we will dash along. Never fear for us; we wont lose a moment: we shall not so much carry our loads as whirl them down."
With these words, straining its back and inflating its chest, the young Horse sets its load in motion. But no sooner does it commence the descent than the weight begins to press upon it heavily, the Cart to roll rapidly. The Horse, urged on from behind, and thrust from side to side, dashes on splendidly at a gallop. Over stones, across gullies, went the Cart amid shocks and boundings. More to the left—still to the left, till at last the Cart and its load goes headlong into the ditch with a crash! Farewell to the master's crockery.
[This fable alludes to the criticisms evoked by Kutuzof's unwillingness to precipitate matters in dealing with Napoleon. When he refused to fight under the walls of Moscow, the people began to clamour against him, as they had done against Barclay de Tolly; and the younger officers under his command were especially indignant with him. But Krilof took his part throughout.]
# Krilof and His Fables/The Divers

The Divers.
A certain King, says Krilof, could not make up his mind as to whether knowledge and science produce more good or harm. He consulted divers learned men on the subject, but they could not solve the problem to his satis­faction. At last, one day, he met a venerable and remark­ably intelligent hermit, to whom he confided his doubts, and who favoured him with the following apologue:
"There was once a fisherman, in India, who lived on the sea-coast. After a long life of poverty and privation, he died, leading three sons. They, seeing that their nets brought them in but a scanty livelihood, and detesting their father's avoca­tion, determined to make the sea yield them a richer recom­pense—not fish, but pearls. So, as they knew how to swim and to dive, they gave themselves up to collecting that form of tribute from it. But the three brothers met with very diffe­rent kinds of success.
"The first, the laziest of the family, spent his time in saun­tering along the shore. He had an objection to wetting even so much as his feet, so he confined his expectations to picking ​up such pearls as the waves might wash ashore at his feet. But the result of this laziness of his was that he scarcely made enough to keep him alive. As to the second, he used to dive, and find rich pearls at the bottom of the sea, never sparing any pains, and knowing how to choose those depths only which it lay within his power to sound.
"But the third brother, troubled by a craving after vast treasures, reasoned with himself as follows: 'It is true that there are pearls which one can find near the shore; but what treasures, apparently, might I not expect if I could only suc­ceed in reaching the lowest depths of the open sea! There, no doubt, lie heaps of countless riches—corals, pearls, and precious stones—all of which one might pick up and carry away at will.' Captivated by this idea, the foolish fellow straightway sought the open sea, chose the spot where the depths seemed blackest, and plunged into the abyss. But his recklessness cost him his life; for the deep swallowed him down, and he never returned to the light of day.
"О King," continued the hermit, "no doubt we recognise in knowledge the source of many benefits. But those who seek it in an irreverent spirit may find in it an abyss in which they may perish, like the diver, but with this differ­ence, that they may too often involve others in their own ruin."
# Krilof and His Fables/The Trigamist

The Trigamist.
A certain sinner, while his wife was still alive, married two other women. As soon as the news of this reached the King, who was a severe king, and disinclined to permi such scandals, he immediately ordered the polygamist to be tried for the offence, and ordained that such a punishment should be discovered for him as would terrify the whole people, so that no one should in future be capable of at­ tempting so great a crime. "But if I see that his punish­ment is a light one," he added, "then I will hang all the judges around the judgment-seat."
This pleasantry is disagreeable to the judges. Fear bathes ​them in a cold sweat. For three whole days they deliberate as to what punishment can be contrived for the culprit. Pun­ishments are plentiful; but experience has proved that none of them will deter people from sinning. However, at last Heaven inspired them. The criminal was brought into court for the announcement of the judicial decision, by which they unanimously decreed—
That he should live with all his three wives at once!
At such a decision the people were lost in astonishment, and expected that the King would hang all the judges. But, before the fifth day arrived, the Trigamist had hanged him­ self. And the sentence produced such alarm that since that time no man has committed trigamy in that country.
[This fable is not altogether original, being founded on a misogynical pleasantry of great antiquity; but it is given as a specimen of Krilof's terse style of story-telling.]
# Krilof and His Fables/The Oracle

The Oracle.
In a certain temple there was a wooden idol which began to utter prophetic answers, and to give wise counsels. Accordingly, it rejoiced in a very rich attire, being covered from top to toe with gold and silver; and was gorged with sacrifices, deafened by prayers, and choked with incense. Every one believed blindly in the Oracle.
All of a sudden—wonderful to relate!—the Oracle began to talk nonsense—took to answering incoherently and absurdly, so that, if any one consulted it about anything, whatever our Oracle said was a lie; so that every one ​wondered what had become of its prophetic faculty. The fact was, that the idol was hollow, and the priests used to sit in it in order to reply to the laity; and so, as long as the priest was discreet, the idol did not talk nonsense; but when a fool took to sitting in it, the idol became a mere dummy.
I have heard—can it be true?—that in days gone by there used to be judges who were renowned for ability—so long as they kept an able secretary.
# Krilof and His Fables/The Cuckoo and the Turtle-Dove

The Cuckoo and the Turtle-Dove.
A Cuckoo sat on a bough, bitterly complaining.
"Why art thou so sad, dear friend?" sympathisingly cooed the Turtle-dove to her, from a neighbouring twig. "Is it because spring has passed away from us, and love with it; that the sun has sunk lower, and that we are nearer to the winter?"
"How can I help grieving, unhappy one that I am?" re­plies the Cuckoo: "thou shalt thyself be the judge. This spring my love was a happy one, and, after a while, I became a mother. But my offspring utterly refuse even to recognise me. Was it such a return that I expected from them? And how can I help being envious when I see how ducklings crowd around their mother—how chickens hasten to the hen when she calls to them. Just like an orphan I sit here, utterly alone, and know not what filial affection means."
"Poor thing!" says the Dove, "I pity you from my heart. As for me, though I know such things often occur, I should die outright if my dovelets did not love me. But tell me, have you already brought up your little ones? When did you find time to build a nest? I never saw you doing any­ thing of the kind: you were always flying and fluttering about."
​"Yes, indeed!" says the Cuckoo. "Pretty nonsense it would have been if I had spent such fine days in sitting on a nest! That would, indeed, have been the highest pitch of stupidity! I always laid my eggs in the nests of other birds."
"Then how can you expect your little ones to care for you?" says the Turtle-dove.
Fathers and mothers! let this fable read you a lesson. I have not written it as an excuse for undutiful children.
Irreverence on their part, and want of love towards their parents, must always be a great fault. But, if they have grown up apart from you, and you have entrusted their education to hireling hands, have not you yourselves to blame, if in old age you obtain but little happiness from them?
# Krilof and His Fables/The Leaves and the Roots

The Leaves and the Roots.
On a beautiful summer day, the Leaves on a tree whis­pered softly to the zephyrs; and, as their shadow fell upon the valley, thus did they speak, vaunting their luxuriant verdure:
"Is it not true that we are the pride of the whole valley? Is it not by us that this tree is rendered so bushy and wide-spreading, so stately and majestic? What would it be with­out us? Yes, indeed; we may praise ourselves without committing a sin! Do not we, by our cool shade, protect the shepherd and the traveller from the heat? Do not we, by our beauty, attract the shepherdess to dance here? From among us, in the morning and the evening twilight, the night­ingale sings; and as to you, zephyrs, you scarcely ever desert us."
"You might add a word of thanks even to us," answered a feeble voice from underground.
"Who is it that dares thus audaciously to call us to ac count? Who are you who are talking there?" the Leaves began to lisp, noisily tossing on the tree.
"We are they," was the reply from down below, "who, burrowing in darkness here, provide you with nourishment. ​Is it possible that you do not recognise us? We are the roots of the tree on which you flourish. Go on rejoicing in your beauty: only remember there is this difference between us, that with the new spring a new foliage is born; but, if the roots perish, neither you nor the tree can survive."
[In the large illustrated edition of the fables, published four years ago, at St. Petersburg, this story is accompanied by one of Trutofsky's spirited drawings, which renders its meaning very clear. A couple of gentlemen and a lady, evidently belonging to the proprietor class, are sitting at their ease in a balcony; and down below, regarded by them with con­ temptuous wonder, stand half-a-dozen peasants, their clothes tattered, their figures emaciated, their faces worn with care. The fable was written in 1811, at a time when the question of the emancipation of the serfs was occupying considerable attention.]
# Krilof and His Fables/The Wolf and the Cuckoo

The Wolf and the Cuckoo.
"Farewell, neighbour!" said a Wolf to a Cuckoo. "In vain have I deluded myself with the idea of finding peace in this spot. Your people and dogs are all alike here—one worse than the other: even if you were an angel, you couldn't help quarrelling with them."
"And is my neighbour going far? and where is that people so pious that you think you will be able to live in harmony with them?"
"Oh! I am going right away to the forest of the happy Arcadia. There, it is said, they don't know what war is. The men are as mild as lambs, and the rivers flow with ​nothing but milk. There, in a word, tire Age of Gold is to be found. Every one treats his neighbour like a brother; and it is even said that the dogs never bark there, much less bite. Tell me, dear friend, would it not be charming to find one­ self, even in a dream, in so peaceful a land as that? Fare­well! Don't retain an unpleasant remembrance of me. There I shall really be able to live in harmony, in plenty, and in indulgence, and not, as here, have to be always on guard by day, and be deprived of one's quiet repose at night."
"A happy journey to you, dear neighbour," says the Cuckoo. "But, tell me, do you leave your teeth and your habits behind you, or do you take them with you?"
"How could I possibly leave them behind me? What nonsense are you talking?"
"Then, mark my words! your skin won't remain long on your back there."
# Krilof and His Fables/The Impious

The Impious.
In the days of old there was a people, to the shame, be it said, of the nations of the earth, which became so hard­ened in heart, that it took up arms against the gods. Noisily, with countless banners displayed, the insurgent crowds over­ run the plains, some armed with bows, others with slings. In order to kindle more fury among the people, the ringleaders, in the insolence of their hearts, declare that the tribunal of Heaven is harsh and foolish—that the gods either sleep or judge unreasonably—that the time has come to read them an unceremonious lesson—and that, as to the rest, it will not be difficult to hurl stones at the gods from the nearest hills, and to fill all Olympus with arrows.
Disquieted by the insolent blasphemies these fools uttered, all Olympus applied to Jupiter with the prayer that he would avert this evil. And even all the heavenly council was of opinion that, in order to confute the rebels, it would not be amiss to make manifest, at all events, a little miracle—a deluge or an earthquake, with thunder and lightning, or, perhaps, to crush them under a shower of stones.
"Let us wait a little," replied Jupiter; "for if they do not become quiet, but go on with their foolish violence, not fear­ing the immortals, they will be punished by their own deeds."
​Then, with a roar, the banded rebels against the gods shot into the air a mass of arrows, a cloud of stones. But, laden with innumerable deaths, inevitable and terrible, their wea­ pons fell back again upon their own heads.
# Krilof and His Fables/The Fox and the Marmot

The Fox and the Marmot.
"Where are you running so fast, gossip, without ever looking back?" a Marmot asked a Fox.
"Oh, my friend, my dear gossip, I have had a calumnious accusation brought against me, and I have been dismissed as an extortioner. You know, I was the judge of the poultry­ yard. In that position I lost my health and my peace of mind. From the press of business, I never had time to get a com­fortable meal, and at nights I could not sleep soundly. And now, in return for this, I have incurred the wrath of my em­ployers, and all on account of a calumny. Only just think! Who in the world shall be without reproach, if calumnies are listened to? I an extortioner! Do they suppose I've gone out of my mind? Now, I appeal to you, have you ever seen that I took part in that wickedness? Think the matter over; reflect on it well."
"No, gossip, no; but I have often remarked that there was some down on your muzzle."
Many an official complains that he is forced to spend every rouble he has; and all the town knows that, originally, he had nothing, and that he got nothing with his wife. But ​see! little by little he builds a house; he buys an estate. Now, in what manner can you reconcile his salary with his expenditure? Although you can prove nothing against him legally, yet you will not be committing a sin if you say, "That fellow has down on his muzzle."