Table Of ContentEDMUND WILSON
A WINDOW ON RUSSIA
for the Use
of Foreign Readers
Peter the Great, in Pushkin's Bronze
Horseman: "Here it has been ordained
for us by Nature that we shall break
a window through to Europe."
FARRAR, STRAUS AND GIROUX
NEW YORK
Copyright© 1943, 1944, 1952, 1957, 1965,
1967, 1969, 1970, 1971, 1972 by Edmund Wilson.
Copyright renewed 1971, 1972 by ·Edmund Wilson.
All rights reserved
First printing, 1972
Library of Congress catalog card number: 70-183236
ISBN: 0-374-29094-6
Printed in the United States of America
Published simultaneously in Canada by
Doubleday Canada Ltd., Toronto
Most of these pieces have appeared in The Atlantic
Monthly, The Nation, The New Yorker, and The New
York Review of Books.
CONTENTS
I
Notes from the Forties
Russian Language 3
Pushkin 15
Tyutchev 28
Gogol: The Demon in the Overgrown
Garden 38
Seeing Chekhov Plain 52
Turgenev and the Life-Giving Drop 68
Sukhovo-Kobylin: "Who Killed the
French Woman?" 148
Notes on Tolstoy 161
Notes on Pushkin 185
A Little Museum of Russian Language 197
II
The Strange Case of Pushkin and Nabokov 209
Svetlana and Her Sisters 238
Solzhenitsyn 270
Dearest Elena: When Eugene-Melchior de Vogue
had married your great-aunt Alexandra Mikhailovna
Annenkova in 1878, he would retire from time to time
to her family place in the Ukraine and work on his
book Le Roman Russe, which was published in 1886.
This book turned out to be a landmark in the knowl
edge and popularity of Russian literature abroad. It
introduced to French readers Tolstoy, Dostoevsky and
the rest. Vogue knew Russian and Russia well. He
had been secretary to the French Embassy in Russia
from 1876 to 1882 and must always have had in his
wife a reliable source of information. I, on the other
hand, have spent only five months in Russia, in the
summer of 1935, and my Russian was so inadequate
when you and I first married that when we tried to
communicate in a language which other people could
not understand, I spoke so very badly and you with
such easy fluency that we were unable to understand
one another. I owe, however, to you, whose mother
was Russian, and to your Russian family and friends,
a great debt in connection with this book, which pretends
to so little in comparison with Vogue's. It is a handful
of disconnected pieces, written at various times when I
happened to be interested in the various authors. It
has no logical sequence or coherence, and it is anything
but comprehensive. Some of the pieces are probably
dated. There has come to be now in the United States
much more interest in the study of Russian than there
was when I began to write, and the misapprehensions
which I mentioned in 1943 are no doubt no longer
widely held. This collection (which includes all the
pieces on Russian subjects that I have not collected in
other volumes) is intended, as I indicate in the subtitle,
mainly for English-speaking readers, and I am well
aware that its statements will be greeted with protest and
even indignation by many literary Russians; but I am
also aware that in Russia the social and regional dif
ferences in language are more divergent than in most
other countries, so that the foreigner can never be
sure of being safe; and that, with writers such as
Pushkin and Gogol especially, who are likely to have
been first read by Russians in childhood, the naive
impressions of childhood are likely to be carried on
into later life, when these writings have not been
reread with the insight and intelligence of an adult.
In any case, I am grateful for all you have contributed
to this book, and for your undiscouraged patience
with my effort to understand Russian customs and states
of mind. You have never ceased to exemplify the most
attractive Russian qualities: sensitivity, humor, human
sympathy, capacity (with limitations) for adaptability
to different milieux and proficiency in the preparation of
such dishes as kulebyaka, kisel and bliny.
With my love as ever,
Edmund
I
Notes from the Forties
RUSSIAN LANGUAGE
These notes need a word of explanation, if not a word
of excuse. They are merely first impressions of the
Russian classics by a reader who has learned Russian
in his forties; and they may often seem quite wrong
to Russians who hear the language as they read, and
who see the whole background behind the book as the
foreigner with his dictionary cannot do.
Such jottings can find their only justification in the
fact that the reports of visitors to little-frequented
countries supply for subsequent travellers a kind of
information which cannot always be found in the
studies of even the most intelligent natives. Those
phenomena which most puzzle the visitor, to which
he may find it most difficult to adjust himself, are
likely to be things which the native takes so com
pletely for granted that he has never thought about
them at all.
Now there has been very little written on Russian
literature by English-speaking writers who read Russian
(though there is one first-rate book in French: Le
Roman Russe by the Vicomte E.-M. de Vogiie). So
far as my experience goes, the only commentaries
of any interest are the rather meager writings of
Maurice Baring and Oliver Elton. Yet it has certainly
3
4 A WINDOW ON RUSSIA
become very important for the English-speaking coun
tries to establish cultural relations based on something
more than attendance at the Russian ballet, the reading
in translation of a few nineteenth-century novels, and
a vague notion of the Marxism of Lenin.
The complete neglect in the West, on the part of
our education, of Russian language and history has
left us badly prepared to communicate with or to
understand the Russia of the Revolution, which will
certainly emerge from the war as one of the dominant
powers of the world. The colleges are doing something
to remedy this lack, and it may be that Russian studies
will eventually have almost the importance that German
studies did in the period that ended with World War
I. In the meantime, these notes on reading are intended
as a stimulus to learning Russian and acquiring some
firsthand knowledge of what is certainly one of the
great modem literatures.
The novelists of Russia have come through to us
and made us admire their genius solely through the
interest of their content, of the stories they have to
tell. We should never suspect from our translations,
of which the style is often so colorless and so undistin
guished, that Russian, as a literary language, has
immense and unique resources.
"The Russian language," wrote Lomonosov, the
great founder of the literary medium in the middle
of the eighteenth century, "the sovereign of so many
others, is superior to all the other languages of Europe,
not only in the extent of the regions where it reigns,
but also in its peculiar comprehensiveness and abun
dance. Charles V, the [Holy] Roman emperor, used
to say that one ought to talk Spanish with God, French
with one's friends, German with one's enemies, and
Italian with the ladies. But if he had learned Russian,
RUSSIAN LANGUAGE 5
he would certainly have added that one could speak
it appropriately to all of them. For he would have
found in it the majesty of Spanish, the vivacity of
French, the strength of German, the tenderness of
Italian, and, besides these, the richness and the
concision, so vigorous in its imagery, of the Greek
and Latin tongues."
Yet the factors that make of Russian so admirable
a medium for literature are in some cases precisely
those that make it difficult for the foreigner to master.
In the first place, there are the resources of the
vocabulary. The Russian language is compounded
of a variety of linguistic elements: Slavonic, Oriental,
and Western, which have provided an immense number
of synonyms with different shades of meaning. In
this it somewhat resembles English, which mixes
Teutonic and Latin, and is at the opposite pole from
French, with its almost one hundred per cent Latinity.
In the second place, Russian presents itself to a
foreigner as a language almost entirely composed of
idioms. In this, too, it is the opposite of French, so
codified and sensibly ordered, so generalized and
formularized. The differences between Russian and
French are worth dwelling on in this connection, be
cause they serve better than any other contrast to
illuminate the nature of Russian. This contrast, in
deed, has created a great cultural issue in Russian
literature from Pushkin's and Griboyedov's time
through Tolstoy's and Dostoevsky's to the last novel
by Mark Aldanov. The French language in tsarist
Russia became, in the eighteenth century, the social
medium of the upper classes; it was Pushkin's second
language.
French played a very important role in influencing
the locutions and the word formations in the develop-
