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band, who has scarcely ever seen her in ('disappointments is excellent, and so is that tears.
of the thoroughly happy life which Viera So commences Viera's introduction into leads, when she has married again, after the the land of romance. The result shows how death of the husband she never could com. right her mother bad been in forbidding her prehend, and has found a companion as irreto enter it. Though so calm and composed proachably good and as utterly commonin appearance, Viera is really of a very ner place as herself. vous and excitable temperament, and en. Another story, in which the sorrows of a dowed with all an artist's susceptibility. romantic and poetic spirit in its communion She has hitherto been unconscious of the with 'unsympathetic minds are excellently existence of the chords which are beginning described, is that which takes its name from to thrill within her heart, but she finds it its hero, Yakof Pasinkof. He is an enthuimpossible to still their vibrations now. The siast who is always indulging in day-dreams, change which takes place in her is very from which he is rudely wakened by some subtly analysed, up to the moment wben unexpected shock, who is continually lookshe feels herself, as it were, irresistibly ing forward to some happy future, from the urged aside from the path of duty and pleasant anticipation of which he is too often honour, and she is on the brink of utterly summoned to realize the unhappiness of his falling. Then comes a most striking de actual life. He is very ready to fall in love, scription of how, as she goes out at night into but he bestows his affections without pruthe park to keep a clandestine engagement, dent discrimination. In very early youth he her heart throbbing, her brain swimming, adores a sentimental German maiden, who she sees, or thinks she sees, the form of her rivals him in fondness for poetry, but all of dead mother coming towards her with open a sudden she marries a thoroughly commonarms,--and how she never recovers from the place and commercial countryman, and that shock, but falls ill and soon after dies. This without evincing the slightest compunction. is how Paul describes his last interview Some years afterwards he is so unfortunate with her :
as to fall in love with a Russian girl, whose "I have seen her once more before her end. character has afforded to M. Turguenief the It is the bitterest of all the recollections of my subject of an interesting study. She is quiet life. I had learnt from the doctor that there and reserved, but she possesses singular was no hope. Late at night, when all was still strength of will, and is obstinate in the exin the house, I crept to the door of her room treme. · So when she has made up ber mind and looked at her. Viera was lying on the bed, to marry a certain officer of somewhat bad with closed eyes, thin, wan, a feverish glow on repute, nothing will turn her aside from her her cheeks, as if petrified. I stood looking at her. Suddenly she opened her eyes, turned purpose, and the ill-starred Pasipkof is again them toward me, regarded me fixedly, and, compelled to witness the ruin of his hopes. stretching out her wasted land, exclaimed,
And a similar i}l-fortune attends his steps 'What seeks he in the holy place?'* uttering wherever he goes, until at last he dies, worn the words in so strange a voice that I fled from out before his time. the spot."
But it would serve but little
purpose A very different Viera is the heroine of
we to attempt to give an account of each of another story, that of “ The Two Friends." the stories or novelettes which M. TurgueHers is a quiet, simple, affectionate charac- nief has published at various times and in ter, but she has no intellectual resources,
different periodicals. Suffice to say that
and there is nothing romantic about her, and ac
there is not one of them wbich has not some cordingly her husband, who is afflicted with a special merit, besides exhibiting that general somewhat poetic soul, and has taken pains to excellence of workmanship which is to be cultivate his intellect, begins to get tired of found in all that their author has produced. her society soon after his marriage. At first Some of them are very sad, a few of them he had imagined he was perfectly happy, but aro even terrible, from the gloominess of the after a time he finds out that his wife, al
pictures they present of vice and passion. though an excellent manager and altogether Very sad, for instance, is tằe description of a person of a thoroughly well-regulated mind, heroine of the story called after Pushkin's
the unhappy love and the tragic end of the is but an unsatisfactory companion,—that she caunot enter into his plans, share his poem on the “Upas Tree," and terrible, ideas, or sympathize with his enthusiasms, Three Portraits," or the dramatic sketch
even repulsive, are such narratives as “The The account of his ardent hopes and his sad which M. Marmier bas translated under
the title of Le Pain d'Autrui, The story *"Was will der an dem heiligen Ort?"_the words uttered by Margaret at the end of the scene which of "A First Love," also, though it has concludes the first part of Faust.
much in it that is very beautiful, is ren.
dered somewhat repulsive by the introduc- who knows that he has but a short time to live,
to be in the way. There is never an openIt must not be supposed, however, that ing for him in any joyous band; every place M. Turguenief is in the habit of copying the always seems to be already occupied whenever novelists of the French school, But if any he appears. And, unfortunately, he has a writer were to describe with perfect accu- craving for sympatby, a longing for happiracy the conduct of some Russian girl who ness which he can share with others. He has surrendered herself to the sweep of a is morbidly self-conscious, and is always anheadlong passion, and who clears at a bound alysing his own thoughts and feelings; and all the barriers with which prudence and com- he is afflicted with that excess of self-love mon sense, not to speak of morality and re. which makes a man morbidly susceptible to ligion, ordinarily hedge women around, Eng- all that is said about him in society, which lish readers would be apt to think he was consumes him with a feverish desire to disdrawing his ideas from French sources, in- tinguish himself, and which makes him feel asmuch as it is from those sources that they with terrible bitterness the dull pains of failgenerally obtain their knowledge of the sub- ure, the stinging agony of disgrace. Once ject. Women of Teutonic race are seldom only his life seems to be about to undergo a given to such wild outbursts of the affec- change. He loves, and for a time he fancies tions; even if they lose their hearts, they do that perhaps his love may be returned. For not often think it befitting to lose their heads about three weeks he knows what to be bap also. But the Slavonic woman is of a dif
His whole existence brighten ferent nature, softer and more yielding, much at once," like a gloomy and deserted room more subject to impulse, far more prone to into which the light is suddenly allowed t self-sacrifice. It is his acquaintance with enter." lle feels for a time as if life wer these peculiarities of his countrywomen, and a luxury, contented was a fly basking in th not any predilection for unhealthy romance, sunlight." Even in the dreary time whic that has led M. Turguenief to tinge one of ensues, those few weeks preserve
a sort his most admirable studies of character with sense of youth, of warmth, and of perfume a hue that seems to English eyes, to detract they stand out from the rest of his drea somewhat from its merit and its value. lifetime like the portion of a cold grey co
The Diary of a Superfluous Man in the des- ridor on which a stray sunbeam has chanc cription of the unsatisfactory life of one who to fall. But this happy time soon passes, is always de trop. The diarist is an invalid a rival appears with whom he bas no chan
* Translated into French by M. Deleveau, under the of successfully contending, and he is oblig
while the love the work which also contains Un Premier Amour.. which he would have given his life is wast
the En's ole, be ch Eer IV
not even pray without words, but yet there with trunks and band boxes. He
into was a moment when, if not in body at least in his room, and he is met by a lady who drops mind, he bowed down and bent himself hum
on her knees at his feet. It is his wife! bly to the ground. He remembered how in The news of her death had been her own childhood he used to pray in church till be
invention. felt, as it were, a soft touch on his forehead. That,' he used to think, ‘is my guardian angel
We pass rapidly on to the scene in wbich visiting me, and sealing me with the seal of Lavretsky for the second time sees Lisa in election.' He looked at Lisa. “It is you who oburch. He has previously had an interview have brought me here,' he thought. O touch with her, and she has induced him by earnest me, touch iny soul!' She went on all the time entreaty to forgive bis wife, and even to make praying quietly. Her face seemed to him hap some outward show of reconciliation with her. py, and again he felt his heart soften within
“The next day was Sunday. The sound of Over Lisa religion exerts a most power the church-bells reminded Lavretsky of that ful influence. She has even an inclination other Sunday when he had gone to church at for its ascetic side. In her early years her cret voice told him that he would see her there
Lisu's request. He rose in haste; a certain sechief friend was her purse Agafia, a woman of a fanatical turn of mind in religious and went with quick steps where the melan
again to-day. He left the house noiselessly, matters, and who, when she gave up her choly and monotonous sound called him. He charge, retired into a convent. Almost all ) arrived early, and found scarcely any one in the the members of Lisa's family are people of church. A lector was reading in the choir, the world; but her nurse directs her thoughts and his voice, sometimes interrupted by a into regions utterly foreign to the ideas of cough, now rose and now fell, but always susher relatives. Instead of nursery tales, the door. The worshippers arrived one after
taining the same note. Lavretsky stood near Agafia tells her stories about the lives of the another, stopped inside the door, crossed themsaints.
selves, and bowed on all sides; their steps reAgafia spoke to Lisa seriously and humbly, sounded loudly in the almost empty and silent as if she felt that it was not for her to utter building, and echoed around the dome. An buch grand and holy words. Lisa used to lis. J infirın old woman in a worn cloak knelt down ten to her intently; and the image of the om- close by Lavretsky and prayed with fervor; her nipresent, omniscient God entered with a kind toothless, wrinkled, and yellow countenance of sweet strength into her soul, and filled it testified to her strong emotion; her eyes, red with a pure and reverential awe; and Christ with weeping, were fixed on the picture of became for her, as it were, some one who was
the iconostasis; her bony hands kept incesnear at hand, and who was a friend, almost a
santly coming out from underneath her cloak, relation. It was Agafia who had tanght her to and making the sign of the cross slowly and pray also. Sometimes she would wake the reverently. A peasant with a thick beard and child with the early dawn, hastily dress her, a morose expression, his hair and his dress all and stealthily take her to matins. Lisa would uncared for, came into the church, and falling follow her on tiptoe, scarcely daring to breathe. at once on his knees, began to perform his The cold morning light, the uriaccustomed look prostrations hastily, touching the ground with of the almost empty church, the secrecy itself his forehead, and then throwing back and of these unexpected excursions, the cautious shaking his head. So bitter a grief showed return home to bed, -all that combinntion of itself in his face, and in all his gestures, that the forbidden, the mysterious, and the holy, Lavretsky went up to him and asked him what agitated the child, and penetrated to the in- was the matter. The peasant recoiled as if in most depths of her being."
fear, then in a hurried voice he said, “My son Next to her love for God, the strongest trations. What suffering of theirs can be too
is dead,' and betook himself anew to his pirosfeeling in Lisa's heart is her love for her great for the consolations of the Church?' country. In the latter sentiment she finds thought Lavretsky, and lie tried to pray himthat Lavretsky can sympathize with her; self. But his heart was heavy and hard, and with respect to the former she knows that his thoughts were afar off. He was still look
Tho he differs from her, but “ she hopes to bring ing out for Lisa ; but Lisa did not come. the sinner back to God." Her relations of their number. Mass was said.' The deacon with him gradually become more and more had already read the Gospel, and the final intimate; and at last, during an accidental prayer was about to commence. Lavretsky interview with him in the garden behind the moved forward a little, and all at once he saw Kalitines' house, she discovers, and he Lisa. She had come in before him, but he had learns, that she loves him. At last he not remarked her. Standing close by the en. thinks life is going to be worth having, the closure of the choir, she never moved, never happiness of which he has long despaired is once looked ronnd. Lavretsky did not take his
off her till the last words of the mass were about to offer itself to bim. The next day, said. He was saying farewell to her in his when he comes home in the evening, he finds heart. The congregation began to disperse, but the ball redolent of patchouli, and littered / she still kept her place. She seemed to be
waiting till Lavretsky left. At length 'she know? who shall tell. Life has certain mocrossed herself for the last time, and went out ments, the heart has certain feelings, on which without looking round."
it is not well to dwell long." In the street outside he speaks to her, and Besides the leading personages of the bids her what is to prove a final farewell. story, there are a number of minor charac. On her return home she tells her aunt, the ters which are excellently worked out, such only member of the family who knows what as Lisa's brilliant but selfish admirer, M. has passed between her and Lavretsky, that Panshine, her mother and her aunt, the latshe wishes to leave her home and take the ter of whom is depicted with great spirit Veil.
and humour. Better still is the sketch of
M. Lemm, an old German music-master, “I have made up my mind," she ;
"I þare prayed ; I have asked God's advice.. all who is devotedly attached to Lisa, and who is over now, my life with you all is ended. is most charmingly, most sympathetically Such a lesson is not given one for nothing: described. Besides these, there is an enthuAnd it's not for the first time that I think of siastic student, one of Lavretsky's college this now. Happiness was not for me. Even friends, to whom the chief part of one chapwher. I looked for happiness, my mind shrank ter of the book is devoted. That chapter away at the thought of it. I know all, both certainly breaks the thread of the story in my sins and those of others. I know how
a manner with which a severe criticis bound papa made our money. I know all. And all that I must expiate by prayer, by prayer. "I to find fault, and therefore the French transam grieved at leaving you; my beart aches lator has omitted it altogether. But it is when I think of mamma and Lenochka. But extremely interesting, not only as throwing it cannot be helped. I feel that I can live here considerable light on Lavretsky's character, no longer. And now I have taken leave of but also as showing the commencement of a everything in the house for the last time."
train of thought which M. Turguenief has
followed up and fully developed in his later Eight years pass away, and one fine spring works. The student is a thorough enthusiday Lavretsky pays a visit to Madame Kalast, utterly free from all consideration of itine's house, which he has not been near his own personal interests, and passionately during all that time. That lady is dead, and devoted to the study of the great questions the house is now tepanted by a younger gen; affecting freedom and progress and civilisaeration. They welcome him hospitably, and tion. To him money is but as dross, rank after telling him all their news, and among and station are mere outward shows, success other things that Lisa is still where she was in life is a thing not worthy of a moment? in her couvent, they ask him to go out into consideration, as compared with the power o the garden with them. There they begin a participating in the onward march of intel lively game, provocative of much shouting lect, of helping to gather in the ripening and laughter, but he wanders about by bim-harvest of knowledge. His appearance i self, thinking of the days gone by, of the happi- represented as somewhat ludicrous, and hi ness that he had imagined he was about to behaviour a little uzcouth, so that he is evi grasp. The description of his feelings is very dently set up as a mark for some ridicul beatitiful, and it is also very noble, exceedingly tender and pathetic , but quite free from but, at the
same time, he is clearly intende
to command à certain amount of not ur anything morbid or exaggerated. His heart
kindly respect. is not broken, though it has received a heavy
Very differently is the character treate blow. He has given up hoping for happi- of the student who plays the leading pa ness, but he has not taken refuge in cynicism. in the novel which M. Turguenief next pu He has found solace in employment, and he lished, Fathers and Children.* That wo has not worked for himself only, he has
appeared in 1862. In the course of the for striven to promote the interests of his peas- which had elapsed since the appearan
years ants, and to benefit all who are in any way of Lisa a considerable change had take dependent on him. Asto Lisa,
place in the ideas of young Russia, a chan, “they say that Lavretsky bas visited the dis- which seems to have struck M. Turgueni tant content in which she has hidden herself- as being decidedly for the worse. I and has seen her. Crossing from one choir to dignant with the audacious disbelief a another she passed close by him, passed steadily the thorough-going iconoclasm of the risi by, with the quick but quiet step of a nun, and did not look at him. Only her eyelids quivered generation, and perhaps personally hurt all but imperceptibly, only still lower did she the invectives of a class of politicians w bend her emaciated face, and the fingers of her showed symptoms of an inclination to folded hands, enlaced with her rosary, clasped nounce as retrogrades all the gallant band each other more firmly than before. What did they both think? what did they feel? Who can * Translated into English by Mr. Eugene Schuy
enever e his vero
his but >> be
Liberals who bad for so many years toiled to the large class of reasoners really existing and suffered in the perilous struggle for pro- in Russia, and numbering many members, gress and reform, he set to work to paint a who will take nothing for granted, who disby no means flattering portrait of a repre- claim anything like a blind obedience to sentative of the new school of Radicals. authority, and who refuse to accept any conAs a moderate man, free from any viewy or clusions but those which have been arrived crotchety ideas, he could not sympathize at by scientific processes. But he is also with the fantastic but violent projects of represented as belonging to the much smaller theorists who disbelieved in almost every-class of destructives, who for a time made thing but their own infallibility; as a genu- themselves notorious by their somewhat blaine artist
, in the highest sense of the word, tant outcries against all social laws, all relihe could not avoid being wroth with philos-gious institutions. In some of his peculiar- . ophers whose realism led them to sneer at ities he resembles one of the most eccentrio and to speak slightingly of music, painting, of the young Russian philosophers, the auand sculpture. Every army is impeded by a thor of the novel which describes that happy swarm of camp-followers, who often bring future time when," by means of a reorganizit into discredit, and the band of young en- ed community, people will live in perpetual enthusiasts who flocked around the banners of joyment of happiness, surrounded by the Liberalism in Russia counted in its number perfection of all material comfort, inaking a good many social marauders whose zeal love without the cares and anxieties of family was somewhat prejudicial to its good name. duties, and lodging in houses with floors of The peculiarities of these objectionable mem- aluminium;" * but his rudeness, bis coarsebers of the party M. Turgueniof has hit off ness, and his outspoken contempt for all sowith admirable fidelity and rare humour, ex- cial laws seem to claim him as a member of posing them upmercifully to the very dis the weaker-minded part of the followers of respectful recognition of the world. There that really original and exceedingly clever can be no question about the talent display, enthusiast. Bazarof, the hero of Fathers and ed in the series of pictures contained in Fath- Children, is an uncompromising. sceptic, as ers and Children, and its successor, Smoke. may be seen from the following passage, in Whether they are to be looked upon as se- which he is disputing with an opponent who rious portraits or as humorous caricatures is asks him what are the principles in accord. not so clear. It is probable that the artist ance with which his party acts :has only aimed at depicting the absurdity of * We act in accordance with that which we certain extremes, without wishing to throw recognise to be useful,' said Bazarof. " At the any ridicule upon what lies between them. present moment the most useful thing is denial, M. Turguenief has done good service in ex- so we deny.' posing the insincerity and selfishness of some
4. Everything?" of the most plausiblo men, the hopeless im
“ Yes, everything.' becility of soine of the most fluent women, I am afraid of saying ·
"What! not only art, poetry, but also ... who have imposed upon the young enthusi
“Everything, repeated Bazarof." asts of the advanced school of liberal opin. iops in Russia ; but he would have commit- According to his opinion, "Raphael is ted an injustice if he had stated that they not worth a brass farthing" and as to reliwere fair representatives of the whole of that gion and morality he values them about as school. But he has never done anything of high as he does art. As to principles, he the kind. He has painted certain pictures, denies their existence, saying that we act in and left them to tell their own tale. He has accordance with sensations only; that if : laughed at many extravagances, he has traced man behaves lionourably, for instance, it is certain social aberrations to their logical end, only because honourable behaviour happens but we cannot see that he has anywhere to yield him an agreeable sensation: Altoscoffed at generous enthusiasms, or that he gether he is thoroughly sceptical, irreverent, has wished to cool the noble ardour which defiant, and aggressive; but, on the other glows in youthful breasts. A satirist always hand, be is brave and upright and incorrupruns the risk of being called a cynic; but tible, and he is generally popular, especially there are times when the very warmth of a among young people, although he never man's feelings, the very disinterestedness of thinks of taking pains to please. One of his his character, impels him towards the peril. most loving, disciples is a young student ous realm of satire.
named Arcady Kirsanof, who has accepted The hero of Fathers and Children is a all Bazarof's philosophy without ever having young physician, who is a leading man among what has, since the appearance of the book, is to be found in M. Boboruikio's article on that
* An interesting account of Nihilism in Russia " been called the Nihilist party. He belongs subject in the Fortnightly Review, Aug. 1868.