wise knowledge of life; the word French, which is not of ancient date,
glitters with a light foppery, and flits away; the sagely artistic
word German ingeniously discovers its meaning, which is not attainable
by every one; but there is no word which is so ready, so audacious,
which is torn from beneath the heart itself, which is so burning, so
full of life, as the aptly applied Russian word."*

*"Dead Souls," translated by Isabel Hapgood.

Prosper Merimee, who knew Russian well, and was an absolute master of
the French language, remarked:--

"La langue russe, qui est, autant que j 'en puis juger, le plus riche
des idiomes de l'Europe, semble faite pour exprimer les nuances les
plus delicates. Douee d'une merveilleuse concision qui s'allie a la
clarte, il lui suffit d'un mot pour associer plusieurs idees, qui,
dans une autre langue, exigeralent des phrases entieres."

And no people are more jealous on this very point than the French. In
the last of his wonderful "Poems in Prose," Turgenev cried out: "In
these days of doubt, in these days of painful brooding over the fate
of my country, thou alone art my rod and my staff, O great, mighty,
true and free Russian language! If it were not for thee, how could one
keep from despairing at the sight of what is going on at home? But it
is inconceivable that such a language should not belong to a great
people."

It is significant that Turgenev, who was so full of sympathy for the
ideas and civilization of Western Europe, and who was so often
regarded (unjustly) by his countrymen as a traitor to Russia, should