have written all his masterpieces, not in French, of which he had a
perfect command, but in his own beloved mother-tongue.

We see by the above extracts, that Russia has an instrument of
expression as near perfection as is possible in human speech. Perhaps
one reason for the supremacy of Russian fiction may be found here.


The immense size of the country produces an element of largeness in
Russian character that one feels not only in their novels, but almost
invariably in personal contact and conversation with a more or less
educated Russian. This is not imaginary and fantastic; it is a
definite sensation, and immediately apparent. Bigness in early
environment often produces a certain comfortable largeness of mental
vision. One has only to compare in this particular a man from Russia
with a man from Holland, or still better, a man from Texas with a man
from Connecticut. The difference is easy to see, and easier to feel.
It is possible that the man from the smaller district may be more
subtle, or he may have had better educational advantages; but he is
likely to be more narrow. A Texan told me once that it was eighteen
miles from his front door to his front gate; now I was born in a city
block, with no front yard at all. I had surely missed something.

Russians are moulded on a large scale, and their novels are as wide in
interest as the world itself. There is a refreshing breadth of vision
in the Russian character, which is often as healthful to a foreigner
as the wind that sweeps across the vast prairies. This largeness of
character partly accounts for the impression of Vastness that their
books produce on Occidental eyes. I do not refer at all to the length
of the book--for a book may be very long, and yet produce an