Suffering is the corner-stone of Russian life, as it is of Russian
fiction. That is one reason why the Russians produce here and there
such splendid characters, and such mighty books. The Russian capacity
for suffering is the real text of the great works of Dostoevski, and
the reason why his name is so beloved in Russia--he understood the
hearts of his countrymen. Of all the courtesans who have illustrated
the Christian religion on the stage and in fiction, the greatest is
Dostoevski's Sonia. Her amazing sincerity and deep simplicity make us
ashamed of any tribute of tears we may have given to the familiar
sentimental type. She does not know what the word "sentiment" means;
but the awful sacrifice of her daily life is the great modern
illustration of Love. Christ again is crucified. When the refined,
cultivated, philosophical student Raskolnikov stoops to this ignorant
girl and kisses her feet, he says, "I did not bow down to you
individually, but to suffering Humanity in your person." That phrase
gives us an insight into the Russian national character.

The immediate result of all this suffering as set forth in the lives
and in the books of the great Russians, is Sympathy--pity and sympathy
for Humanity. Thousands are purified and ennobled by these sublime
pictures of woe. And one of the most remarkable of contemporary
Russian novels--Andreev's "The Seven Who Were Hanged," a book bearing
on every page the stamp of indubitable genius--radiates a sympathy and
pity that are almost divine.

This growth of Love and Sympathy in the Russian national character is
to me the sign of greatest promise in their future, both as a nation
of men and women, and as a contributor to the world's great works of
literary art. If anything can dispel the black clouds in their dreary