Dostoevsky (1879).

WITH THE PUBLICATION OF The Possessed, and the return of Dostoyevsky to Russia, commenced the last chapter of his life, from 1871 to 1881. It was less sad and trying than previous ones. He married a second time, a brave and intelligent woman who helped him to get out of his material embarrassments. His popularity increased, and the success of his books enabled him to obtain his discharge. Seized once more by the demon of journalism, he contributed first of all to a newspaper in St. Petersburg, and ended by editing a periodical, all to himself, named The Notebook of a Scribe. This monthly publication appeared occasionally. It had nothing in common with what we understand by a newspaper or a review. Had Apollo started a Delphic “Gazette” for recording the intermittent Pythian oracles, it would have somewhat resembled Dostoyevsky’s publication. It was his chief occupation in later years, into which he poured all the political, social and literary ideas which tormented him. It also contained anecdotes and recollections of his life. I do not know if he had ever heard of the Words of a Believer, by [Félicité Robert de] Lamennais, but he often makes one think he had.

I have already shown that his political belief may be summarized as an everlasting faith in Russia’s destiny, and a glorification of the goodness of heart and intelligence of the Russian people. His mystic hymns escape all analysis or argument.

The Notebook of a Scribe commenced its life on the eve of the war with Turkey, and appeared regularly during those years of fevered patriotism. It reflected the period of enthusiasm and discouragements which shook “Russia in arms.” I do not know what there exists that is not to be found in this “summary” of Slavonic dreams which deal with every question affecting the human race. There is only one thing missing – a concrete dogma that the understanding can take hold of. Here and there we come across touching episodes, brought before us with consummate art, yet as pearls lost in troubled waters, though agreeably reminding us of the greatness of this romancer. The Notebook was a success among that special class of the public which was less friendly to his ideas than to his person – in other words, the sound of Dostoyevsky’s voice. Meanwhile he composed his last book, The Brothers Karamazoff. – I have not yet mentioned a novel entitled Growth [The Adolescent], published soon after The Possessed, for bringing the information regarding the current movement up to date. It is very inferior to all his former works and its success was only a moderate one. The same holds good of The Brothers Karamazoff. It is commonly admitted that very few Russians have had the courage to read this interminable story to the end. And yet, in the midst of inexcusable digressions and through nebulous smoke, one comes across some truly epic figures and scenes, worthy to find a place among the author’s best – such is, for instance, the “Death of the Child.”

The entire work of such an author cannot be done justice to in a single chapter of a book on the history a literature. Fancy, fourteen volumes of formidable Russian octavo, each containing a thousand pages of French print! It was not unnecessary to give this detail, because the “material physiognomy” – the outward appearance of the books – affords a good indication of the literary customs of a country. The French novel is becoming lighter and lighter, capable of being slipped into a hand-bag for use on a short railway journey, whilst the heavy Russian is meant to be enthroned for a long time on the drawing-room table in a country house for use during long winter evenings. It encourages thought in connection with patience and eternity!