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taken the trouble to test it, and who gets up The character of Paul Kirsanof, the repfor being an original and á cynic, when be resentative of another branch of the elder is in reality an amiable young man of a generation, bas been carefully studied and thoroughly commonplace character. At the portrayed by M. Turguenief. Like bis commencement of the story we find the two brother, be prides himself upon being, what friends staying in the country-house belong- he really is, a thorough gentleman, in the ing to Arcady's father, Arcady has just English sense of the word, but his nature is taken his degree at the University, and his harder than his brother's, and has received father, Nicolai Petrovich Kirsanof, is de- a higher polish. Formerly one of the most ligbting in his presence, though somewhat distinguished ornaments of the fashionable unable to appreciate his son's new philosoplin society of the capital, he has taken in middle ical ideas, and very ill at ease in presence of life to leading a hermit-like existence in his bis sou's extraordinary friend. The elder brother's country-house. He reads a good Kirsanof is a simple, kindly gentleman, not deal, and chiefly English books. All his very enlightened, of no great patural abil. manner of life, indeed, is arranged in accordity, and of somewhat confused ideas on the ance with English ideas. He seldom vissubject of morality. He has been looking its his neighbours, and scarcely erer appears forward with great joy to his son's return, in public except at the elections of the Marbut when it takes place he finds, to his ex- shals of the Nobility, and on other similar treme regret, that his son and he are no occasions. Even then he rarely opens his longer in accord, and that his son's thoughts lips, but if he does speak it is only to shock seem to move in a sphere to which his own the Conservative proprietors by Liberal salcannot gain access.

lies, which, however, do not conciliate the

representatives of the rising generation. “We have served our time, our song is Every one thinks him proud, but at the sung,' he says to his brother Paul one evening. same time respects him on account of his "Well, perhaps Bazarof is right. But thero is one thing, I must confess, which I find very

thoroughly aristocratic manner and his ex. hard: I had hoped that Arcady and I woulà quisite taste in dress; also because he alhave been in the most thorough friendly ac- ways occupies the best roonis in the chief cord with each other; but it turns out that I hotels wherever he goes, and never underhave fallen behind, and he has gone ahead, and takes a journey without providing himself we cannot understand each other at all.

with a portable bath and a silver travelling fancy I do everything I can to prevent my fall- service, and perfumes himself with choice ing behind our age. I have introduced the métayer system on my estate, and tried to give essences, and has once dined with the Duke my peasants a better position than they had of Wellington at Louis Philippe's table; before, so that I have even got credit through- and also because he is perfectly honest and out the province for being a red republicap. I honourable. Ladies recognise in his melanread, I study, I do my best in general to rise to choly, which is due to an unhappy love af. the level of the wants of the day, and then I fair, something very charming, but Bazarof am told that my soug is sung; and indeed, scoffs at it. That hard utilitarian, cannot brother, I begin myself to think that it really see the use of continually regretting a lost "What makes you think that?'

love, and declares that a man is unworthy of "I'll tell you. I was sitting to-day reading the name of man," who, having staked all Pushkin. I remember it was bis poem of his life on the card of a woman's love, and "The Gipsies " I happened to have opened at, baving lost that card, is so cut up and upwhen Arcady suddenly came up to me, and, set that he becomes absolutely fit for nothwithout saying a word, with a sort of pitying ing." He goes on to laugh at the idea of tenderness expressed in his look, tovk my book there being anything romantic or mysterious quietly away from me, just as one would do to in the relations wbich can exist between mar a child, and placed another in front of me, and woman, and then proceeds to fall ir German one, then smiled and went away, carrying off Pushkin with him."

love with a great lady, who gives him

good deal of marked encouragement, and The book which Arcady wishes his fa- then suddenly treats him with unexpected ther to read is Büchner's Stoff und Kraft, coldness. Her strange character is very but the elder Kirsanof finds he cannot un- cleverly drawn, but the best part of the sto derstand the learned materialist's work on ry is that which describes what takes plac Matter and Force, although he has not yet after her conduct has sent Bazárof hom forgotten bis German. The old gentlenian to his father's house in disgust. with th fears the time has come for him and his world. equals in age to order their coffing and lie His father is an old retired army surgeon down quietly to die, but his brother thinks as simple-hearted as the elder Kirsanof, an otherwise.

as devoted to his son, whom he adores, au

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who has always behaved irreproachably to the village in which the accident takes
wards him. Bazarof's mother is an old la- place, and before he can return home and
dy who ought to have lived two centuries procure some it is too late. A few days
earlier, being a perfect type of what the afterwards he dies. This part of the story
wives of the petty nobility used to be. She is worked out with great power. The young
is very pious, very good, very superstitious. man's defiant behaviour on what he knows
She believes religiously in dreams, in ghosts, to be his deathbed, the repressed grief of the
and in evil spirits. She never reads, scarce- poor old father and mother, the visits of the
ly ever writes, but makes excellent pre- lady whose coldness had driven Bazarof to
serves.' She looks on the peasants as beings despair, and who comes to see him when it
of a lower nature than her own, but is very is too late,mall are related in M. Turgue-
kind to them, and never refuses to give alms nief's most impressive style. It is thus that
to a beggar. Ignorant, prejudiced, and ani. the scene ends :
able, she lives in a very little world of her.
own, and does not take the slightest interwards evening he fell into a state of completo

“ Bazarof was never to wake agaio. Toest in what goes on outside it. It may easi- insensibility, and on the next day he died. ly be supposed that two such quiet, simple Father Alexis performed the last rites of the old people do not quite know what to make church by his bedside. At the moment when of their extraordinary son.

And be soon the sacrament of extreme unction was being finds himself tired of the dull life he leads conferred on the dying man, just as the conseunder his father's old-fashioned roof. His crated oil touched his breast, one of his eyes first visit, after taking his degree at the Uni- opened, and it seemed as if at the sight of the

priest in his vestments, of the reeking censer, versity, lasts a very short time. The old of the candles burning before the sacred picpeople had counted on keeping him several tures, something like a shudder of fear passed weeks at least, but after a few days he goes for a moment across his fast whitening face. off again.

His carriage drives away, and When at length he had breathed his last, and they are left alone. His father

, Vassily a general sound of lamentation began to make Ivanovich, waves his handkerchief briskly itself heard throughout the house, a sudden from the front door as long as the vehicle is frenzy seemed to seize upon the father. 'I in sight, then throws himself on a chair and swore I would speak out,' he cried with a lets his head fall on his breast, crying that expression of his face changing, while he shook

hoarse voice, his cheeks burning, and the whole he is alone indeed now; that his son has his fists in the air as if he were theatening grown tired of him, and abandoned him.

some one and I will speak out, I will speak

out!' But the mother fung herself, all in " Then Arina Vlasievna (his wife) drew near tears, on his neck, and they two fell down to. to him, and said, resting her grey head on his, gether on the gronnd. 'Just like lambs in the • How can it be helped, Vasin? A son is á heat of the day, they let their heads droop and chip from the block. He is like a falcon. He fell down side by side,' said Anfisuchka afterfelt inclined, he flew here. Again he felt in wards in the servants' room." clined, and he has flown away. But we two Dever move, we are always at each other's Six months later a happy scene is to be side, like two lichens in the hollow of a tree. I witnessed in the house of the Kirsanofs. only shall always remain just the same for The young Arcady has been led astray from yon, and you too for me.' Then Vassily Ivan- his philosophic studies by the bright eyes of ovich took away his hands from before his face, and embraced his wife, his companion, him happy; and his delighted father is giv

a young lady who gladly consents to make more warmly than he used to embrace her even in the days of his youth. For she had ing an entertainment in honour of the marconsoled him in the time of his sorrow." riage. Arcady has not forgotten Bazarof,

but he has entirely emancipated himself The young Bazarof returns once more from the influence of that ill-starred mate. home, and his parents are for a time per- rialist's theories. He has descended from fectly happy. The old doctor tells all the those heights of speculation round which peasants who come to consult him how for sweep keen winds, destructive of romance tunate they are in arriving at a time when and earthly enjoyments, and he is content his son is able to assist him. He even to dwell in the fat plains over which gentle keeps a tooth which his son had extracted, breezes waft the scent of flowers and the and shows it to his friends as something song of birds. Life is now very pleasant to wonderful. After a while, however, he re- him, and he feels no longer the slightest inmarks that his son is sad and restless, and clination to don that cynical robe wbich has he talks the matter over very mournfully so easily slipped off his shoulders, but which with his wife. One day young Bazarof cuts Bazarof drew even more closely round himhis finger while engaged in dissection. He self before he died. The story ends with applies in vain for caustic to the doctor of the following words :

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“In one of the retired nooks of Russia there of attractive, -she dresses in the worst posis a small rural cemetery. Like almost all our sible taste, she does not care about even graveyards, it has a melancholy look. The personal cleanliness. But this picture is trenches by which it is surrounded have long not quite fair. As a caricature it is well ago been overgrown with weeds; the grey wooden crosses have swayed on one side, bend worthy of praise; but it must not be taken ing under the weight of their once painted as a trustworthy representation of even a roofs; the gravestones are all out of place, as very advanced specimen of that class of if some one had been pushing them from un- Russian women which it is intended to derneath; two or three leafless trees can typify—the class that has for years been scarcely offer the slightest shade; sheep feed striving to raise its members above the undisturbed among the graves. " But there is one of the graves which no been generally content to rest. The same

dead level of thought at which their sex has one ever disturbs, which no cattle ever tread under foot; only the birds sometimes perch remark holds good also for M. Turguenief's upon it, and sing there at dawn. An iron rail story called Smoke, in which he has introing surrounds it; a fir sapling is planted at duced three female characters, and bas each end of it. In that grave Bazarof lies. To painted only one of them in favourable colit, from a neighbouring village, come two old ours. There is a great lady, who is beautipeople, already infirm with agema husband ful and clever and accomplished, but she is with his wife. Supporting one another, they thoroughly unprincipled and selfish; there railing; and there, falling on their knees, they is a specimen of the class to which Madame weep long and bitterly, and long and earnestly Kukshine belonged, who is represented as they gaze upon the silent stone under which utterly absurd and intolerably tiresome; lies their son. They exchange a few brief and, lastly, there is a quiet simple girl, who words, they wipe the dust from the stone; they bas a sweet face and an honest, loving heart, set straight a branch of one of the firs, and and who is made to contrast very advantathen they begin to pray anew, unable to tear themselves from that spot, in which it seems

geously with the other two. to them as if they were nearer to their

This story of Smoke,* the last complete

son, nearer to his memory. Is it possible that their work published by M. Turguenief, has givprayers, their tears, can be fruitless? Is it en rise to no little angry discussion in Ruspossible that love, that pure and devoted love, sia. Nor is that strange, considering that a can be other than all-powerful? Oh no! How- great part of it is devoted to scathing ridiever pass onate, sinful, and rebellious may have cule of a party which has lately grown very been the leart which lies bid in a grave, the influential in that country, consisting of a flowers which grow above it gaze at us tran- number of scholars, politicians, and men of quilly with their innocent eyes; it is not only of eternal rest that they speak to us, of that letters, who are perpetually singing the great calin of careless' nature,--they speak praises of their pative land, declaring that also of final reconciliation and of eternal life." it can suffice for itself, that it has no need

of Western culture, and that, indeed, the In speaking of Fathers and Children we whole West is rotten, and fast siuking into have said nothing of the female Nibilist who decrepitude. The useless, endless chatter figures in the story. Madame Kukshine's of some of these fluent patriots seems to have portrait is drawn by a very unfriendly hand. given annoyance to M. Turguenief, who M. Turguenief has evidently had a kindly would prefer to see a little done rather than feeling for young enthusiasts like Bazarof, hear a great deal talked about, and he has even when he was most annoyed by their ar- hit off their peculiarities with irresistible rogant self-confidence; but with women call humour, and exposed their shallowness with ing themselves "emancipated" he has not considerable success. But to judge of the the slightest sympatby, nor does he show rising generation in Russia from the sirguthem the least mercy. It is not to be won- lar specimens of Russian youth at whom M. dered at, therefore, that the picture of their Turguenief has not unfairly laughed in representative in Fathers and Children is a Smoke, would be like forming an unfavouramere caricature, in which every natural de ble opinion of English girls in general from fect bas been exaggerated, and every good the very depreciatory criticisms on some of feature has been studiously kept out of their number which created a certain sensasight. What we are shown is a woman who tion last year. has deliberately given up all, claim to the Smoke is not a novel which is likely to respect which her sex has been accustomed become universally popular. Too many o to enjoy-who detésts religion, who objects its pages are occupied by conversations and to marriage, who drinks champagne freely, who smokes all day long, and who never

* Admirably translated into French (Fumée) an ceases to talk wbut she is pleased to call into German (Rauch). The French version ha philosophy. Her appearance is the reverse | been translated into English-but not admirably.

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who has always behaved irreproachably to the village in which the accident takes wards him. Bazarof 's mother is an old la place, and before he can return home and dy who ought to have lived two centuries procure some it is too late. A few days earlier, being a perfect type of what the afterwards he dies. This part of the story wives of the petty nobility used to be. She is worked out with great power. The

young is very pious, very good, very superstitious. man's defiant behaviour on what he knows She believes religiously in dreams, in ghosts, to be bis deathbed, the repressed grief of the and in evil spirits. She never reads, scarce- poor old father and mother, the visits of the ly ever writes, but makes excellent pre- lady whose coldness had driven Bazarof to serves. She looks on the peasants as beings despair, and who comes to see him when it of a lower nature than her own, but is very is too late,m-all are related in M. Turguekind to them, and never refuses to give alms nief's most impressive style. It is thus that to a beggar. Ignorant, prejudiced,

and anii- the scene ends :able, she lives in a very little world of her own, and does not take the slightest inter wards evening he fell into a state of cumpleto

Bazarof was never to wake again. Toest in what goes on outside it. It

insensibility, and on the next day he died. ly be supposed that two such quiet, simple Father Alexis performed the last rites of the old people do not quite know what to make church by lvis bedside. At the moment when of their extraordinary son.

And be soon the sacrament of extreme unction was being finds himself tired of the dull life he leads conferred on the dying man, just as the conseunder his father's old-fashioned roof. His crated oil touched his breast, one of his eyes first visit, after taking his degree at the Uni- opened, and it seemed as if at the sight of the versity, lasts a very short time.

priest in his vestments, of the reeking censer, The old

of the candles burning before the sacred picpeople had counted on keeping him several tures, something like a shndier of fear passed weeks at least, but after a few days he goes for a moment across his fast whitening face. off again. His carriage drives away, and When at, length he had breathed his last, and they are left alone. His father, Vassily a general sound of lamentation began to make Ivanovich, waves his handkerchief briskly itself heard throughout the house, a sudden from the front door as long as the vehicle is frenzy seemed to seize upon the father. 'I in sight, then throws himself on a chair and swore I would speak out,' he cried with a lets his head fall on his breast, crying that expression of his face changing, while he shook

hoarse voice, his cheeks burning, and the whole he is alone indeed now; that his son has his fists in the air as if he were theatening growu tired of him, and abandoned him.

some one-- and I will speak out, I will speak

out!' But the mother Aung herself, all in “Then Arina Vlasievna (his wife) drew near tears, on his neck, and they two fell down to. to him, and said, resting her grey head on his, gether on the gronnd. 'Just like lambs in the • How can it be belped, Vasia ? A son is á heilt of the day, they let their heads droop and chip from the block. He is like a falcon. He fell down side by side,' said Anfisuchka afterfelt inclined, he few here. Again he felt in wards in the servants' room.' clined, and he has flown away. But we two never move, we are always at each other's Six months later a happy scene is to be side, like two lichens in the hollow of a tree. I witnessed in the house of the Kirsanofs. only shall always remain just the same for The young Arcady has been led astray from you, and you too for me.' Then Vassily Ivan- his philosophic studies by the bright eyes

of ovich took away his hands from before his face, and embraced his wife, his companion, him happy; and his delighted father is gir

a young lady who gladly consents to make more warmly than he used to embrace her even in the days of his youth. For she had ing an entertainment in honour of the marconsoled him in the time of his sorrow." riage. Aready has not forgotten Bazarof,

but he has entirely emancipated himself The young Bazarof returns once more from the influence of that ill-starred matehome, and his parents are for a time per- rialist's theories. He has descended from fectly happy. The old doctor tells all the those heights of speculation round which peasants who come to consult him how for sweep keen winds, destructive of romance tunate they are in arriving at a time when and earthly enjoyments, and he is content his son is able to assist him. He even to dwell in the fat plains over which gentle keeps a tooth which his son had extracted, breezes waft the scent of flowers and the and shows it to his friends as something song of birds. Life is now very pleasant to wonderful. After a while, however, he re- him, and he feels no longer the slightest inmarks that his son is sad and restless, and clination to don that cynical robe wbich has he talks the matter over very mournfully so easily slipped off his shoulders, but which with his wife. One day young Bazarof cuts Bazarof drew even more closely round himhis finger while engaged in dissection. He self before he died. The story ends with applies in vain for caustic to the doctor of the following words

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of is a small rural cemetery. Like almost all our sible taste, she does not care about even

,
graveyards, it has a melancholy look. The personal cleanliness. But this picture is
trenches by which it is surrounded have long not quite fair. As a caricature it is well
ago been overgrown with weeds; the
wooden crosses have swayed on one side, bend- worthy of praise; but it must not be taken

ing under the weight of their once painted as a trustworthy representation of even a
· roofs; the gravestones are all out of place, as very advanced specimen of that iss of
if some one had been pushing tbem from 'un Russian women which it is intended to
derneath; two or three lenfless trees can typify--the class that has for years been
scarcely offer the slightest shade ; sheep feed striving to raise its members above the
undisturbed among the graves.
" But there is one of the graves which no

dead level of thought at which their sex has
one ever disturbs, which no cattle ever tread been generally content to rest. The same
under foot; only the birds sometimes perch remark holds good also for M. Turguenief's
upon it, and sing there at dawn. An iron rail- story, called Smoke, in which he has intro-
ing surrounds it; a fir sapling is planted at duced three female characters, and bas
each end of it. In that grave Bazarof lies. To painted only one of them in favourable col-
it, from a neighbouring village, come two old There is a great lady, who is beauti-
people, already infirm with agema husband ful and clever and accomplished, but she is
with his wife. Supporting one another, they thoroughly unprincipled and selfish ; there
railing; and there, falling on their knees, they is a specimen of the class to which Madame
weep long and bitterly, and long and earnestly Kukshine belonged, who is represented as
they gaze upon the silent stone under which utterly absurd and intolerably tiresome;
lies their son. They exchange a few brief and, lastly, there is a quiet simple girl, who
words, they wipe the dust from the stone, they bas a sweet face and an honest, loving heart,
set straight a branch of one of the firs, and and who is made to contrast very adyanta-
then they begin to pray anew, unable to tear geously with the other two.
themselves from that spot, in which it seems
to them as if they were nearer to their son,

This story of Smoke,* the last complete nearer to his memory. Is it possible that their work published by M. Turguenief, has givprayers, their tears, can be fruitless? Is it en rise to no little angry discussion in Ruspossible that love, that pure and devoted love, sia. Nor is that strange, considering that a can be other than all-powerful? Oh no! How- great part of it is devoted to scathing ridiever passionate, sinful, and rebellious may have cule of a party which has lately grown very been the heart which lies bid in a grave, the influential in that country, consisting of a flowers which grow above it gaze at us tran- number of scholars, politicians, and men of quilly with their innocent eyes; it is not only of eternal rest that they speak to us, of that letters, who are perpetually singing the great calın of 'careless' nature,-they speak praises of their native laud, declaring that also of final reconciliation and of eternal life.” it can suffice for itself, that it has no need

of Western culture, and that, indeed, the In speaking of Fathers and Children we whole West is rotten, and fast siuking into have said nothing of the female Nibilist who decrepitude. The useless, endless chatter figures in the story. Madame Kukshine's of some of these fluent patriots seems to have portrait is drawn by a very unfriendly hand. given annoyance to. M. Turguenief, who M. Turguenief has evidently, had a kindly would prefer to see a little done rather than feeling for young enthusiasts like Bazarof, hear a great deal talked about, and he has even when he was most annoyed by their ar- hit off their peculiarities with irresistible rogant self-confidence; but with women call- humour, and exposed their shallowness with ing themselves "emancipated" he has not considerable"success. But to judge of the the slightest sympathy, nor does he show rising generation in Russia from the singuthein the least mercy. It is not to be won- lar specimens of Russian youth at whom M. dered at, therefore, that the picture of their Turguenief has not unfairly laughed in representative in Fathers and Children is a Smoke, would be like forming an unfavouramere caricature, in which every natural de ble opinion of English girls in general from fect has been exaggerated, and every good the very depreciatory criticisms on some of feature has been studiously kept out of their number which created a certain sensasight. What we are shown is a woman who tion last year. has deliberately given up all claim to the Smoke is not a novel which is likely to respect which her sex has been accustomed become universally popular. Too many of to enjoy,who detests religion, who objects its pages are occupied by conversations and to marriage, who drinks champagne freely, who smokes all day long, and who never ceases to talk what she is pleased to call into German (Rauch). The French version has

* Admirably translated into French (Fumée) and philosophy. Her appearance is the reverse been translated into English-but not admirably.

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