Best Russian Short Stories | Page 2

under the severe despot Nicholas I, though, to
be sure, he always hated that life. For all his flirting with
revolutionarism, he never displayed great originality or depth of
thought. He was simply an extraordinarily gifted author, a perfect
versifier, a wondrous lyrist, and a delicious raconteur, endowed with a
grace, ease and power of expression that delighted even the exacting
artistic sense of Turgenev. To him aptly applies the dictum of Socrates:
"Not by wisdom do the poets write poetry, but by a sort of genius and
inspiration." I do not mean to convey that as a thinker Pushkin is to be
despised. Nevertheless, it is true that he would occupy a lower position
in literature did his reputation depend upon his contributions to thought
and not upon his value as an artist.
"We are all descended from Gogol's Cloak," said a Russian writer. And

Dostoyevsky's novel, Poor People, which appeared ten years later, is,
in a way, merely an extension of Gogol's shorter tale. In Dostoyevsky,
indeed, the passion for the common people and the all-embracing,
all-penetrating pity for suffering humanity reach their climax. He was a
profound psychologist and delved deeply into the human soul,
especially in its abnormal and diseased aspects. Between scenes of
heart-rending, abject poverty, injustice, and wrong, and the torments of
mental pathology, he managed almost to exhaust the whole range of
human woe. And he analysed this misery with an intensity of feeling
and a painstaking regard for the most harrowing details that are quite
upsetting to normally constituted nerves. Yet all the horrors must be
forgiven him because of the motive inspiring them--an overpowering
love and the desire to induce an equal love in others. It is not horror for
horror's sake, not a literary tour de force, as in Poe, but horror for a
high purpose, for purification through suffering, which was one of the
articles of Dostoyevsky's faith.
Following as a corollary from the love and pity for mankind that make
a leading element in Russian literature, is a passionate search for the
means of improving the lot of humanity, a fervent attachment to social
ideas and ideals. A Russian author is more ardently devoted to a cause
than an American short-story writer to a plot. This, in turn, is but a
reflection of the spirit of the Russian people, especially of the
intellectuals. The Russians take literature perhaps more seriously than
any other nation. To them books are not a mere diversion. They
demand that fiction and poetry be a true mirror of life and be of service
to life. A Russian author, to achieve the highest recognition, must be a
thinker also. He need not necessarily be a finished artist. Everything is
subordinated to two main requirements--humanitarian ideals and
fidelity to life. This is the secret of the marvellous simplicity of
Russian-literary art. Before the supreme function of literature, the
Russian writer stands awed and humbled. He knows he cannot cover up
poverty of thought, poverty of spirit and lack of sincerity by rhetorical
tricks or verbal cleverness. And if he possesses the two essential
requirements, the simplest language will suffice.
These qualities are exemplified at their best by Turgenev and Tolstoy.

They both had a strong social consciousness; they both grappled with
the problems of human welfare; they were both artists in the larger
sense, that is, in their truthful representation of life, Turgenev was an
artist also in the narrower sense--in a keen appreciation Of form.
Thoroughly Occidental in his tastes, he sought the regeneration of
Russia in radical progress along the lines of European democracy.
Tolstoy, on the other hand, sought the salvation of mankind in a return
to the primitive life and primitive Christian religion.
The very first work of importance by Turgenev, A Sportsman's
Sketches, dealt with the question of serfdom, and it wielded tremendous
influence in bringing about its abolition. Almost every succeeding book
of his, from Rudin through Fathers and Sons to Virgin Soil, presented
vivid pictures of contemporary Russian society, with its problems, the
clash of ideas between the old and the new generations, and the
struggles, the aspirations and the thoughts that engrossed the advanced
youth of Russia; so that his collected works form a remarkable literary
record of the successive movements of Russian society in a period of
preparation, fraught with epochal significance, which culminated in the
overthrow of Czarism and the inauguration of a new and true
democracy, marking the beginning, perhaps, of a radical transformation
the world over.
"The greatest writer of Russia." That is Turgenev's estimate of Tolstoy.
"A second Shakespeare!" was Flaubert's enthusiastic outburst. The
Frenchman's comparison is not wholly illuminating. The one point of
resemblance between the two authors is simply in the tremendous
magnitude of their genius. Each is a Colossus. Each creates