The Universalist. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1884-1897, 1888-06-30
SSnecia1 Contributors.
A AGLIMPSE AT RUSSIAN LITERATURE.
BY HATTIE TYING GRIswOLD.
Columbus, Wis.,

I.
In literature the coming man is in
all probability a Russian. From no
nation have we at present reason to eX-
pect as much in the near future in GER
tain lines of literary work as from the
dwellers in that still half mysterious
land. Greece had its Homer, Italy its
Dante, England its Shakespeare and
Germany its Goethe, and if one might
predict where the next great universal
genius, the next workman would
arise, he would certainly be justified in
looking to Russia, first of all, for that
unique product of the best world force.
We shall hardly produce such genius
in the New World. There is too much
equality, too much prosperity, too
much general intelligence. The average
attainment is too great-we cannot eX-
pect giants where the average stature
of mankind is so high. We shall look
in vain 1 think for one man, ethan his
brethren taller and fairer." We shall
scarcely see him in these days of gen
eral culture and mediocrity and wide
opened contentment. He may be al
ready born among the steppes of Rus
sia. In some bleak settlement, per-
haps on the far plains of Siberia, or in
the wilds of the stern Caucasus, on the
banks of the lonely Neya, or in some
little communal village in the northern
forests. The child may now be playing
who will voice the sorrow of that sor
rowful land in song or a stanza which
will touch the universal heart, and add
one more to the roll-call of the great
immortal names. Perhaps he is already
trying his unaccustomed hand on some
work which will picture the passion
and the pain, the misery and the mys-
terry of life in Russia, in colors which
the whole world will recognize as those
of master hand-a Michael Angelo,
or Titan pointing in words.
There have been many forerunners of
this genius-many John the Baptists cry
ing, prepare ye the way-aud the world
has just begun to recognize them, and
to put itself in the attitude of ex-
pectancy, whenever new Russian
star rises in the sky. The fascination
of the country to the mind of the out
side world is deep and strong. Those
dreamy solitudes of virgin forest or
virgin plain, those distant mountain
peaks with their purpling glooms,
those impossible morasses, and those
intensely sad, widely separated little
villages, all appeal to the ina agination
with a powerful charm. So, too, do
their inhabitants. The conventional
cast Of characters in an English novel
has become Dwell known, that when we
open one of them, good or bad, high or
low, by master or by an novice, we
know at once the people we shall meet,
and upon what background they will
be depicted. There is scarcely a phase
of English life which has not become
hackneyed in the hands of the novelist
and, however the stories themselves
may differ, the drdmqtiS perSOn9 are
apt to be much the same. But in
Russian literature all is comparatively
new. The types have not yet become
fixed, and we may reasonably expect
some new sensations when we open
their books. To be sure we must labor
under the very great disadvantage of
reading translations, wherein much of
the original flavor is doubtless lost
but there is piqueney left which is
quite inspiring after our familiarity
with English, French, and German
novels.
For it is as novelist that the Rus
sian has so far appeared 0 an expectant
world, and it seems probable that such
will be his role for some time to come.
Even if great poet should appear, he
would not be speedily made known to
the rest of the world, possibly never,
but the novelist is a comparatively
easy person to deal with, and there are
far more readers for him then there
would be for poet, however great he
might be. The romantic background
for the Russian novelist is already pre-
pared; the stiffness, the solitude, the
mystery, the despotism, the discomfort,
the continual tragedy of life there,
all these elements combine to give even
to writers below the greatest, much
advantage over the novelists of our own
happy and favored land, where life is not
romantic or mysterious, or tragical, but