THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES IVAN TURGENIEFF VOLUME VI FATHERS AND CHILDREN THE NOVELS AND STORIES OF IVAN TURGENIEFF TRANSLATED FROM THE RUSSIAN BY ISABEL F. HAPGOOD motl She cast a glance at Bazdroff. From a drawing by S. IVANOWSKI. THE NOVELS AND STORIES OF IVAN TURGENIEFF TRANSLATED FROM THE RUSSIAN BY ISABEL F. HAPGOOD Copyright, 1903, by CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SODS PREFACE " FATHERS and Children " first appeared in 1862, the first instalment being printed in the February (or March) number of the Russian Messenger. It was an important event, not only in Russian literature, but also in the personal life of its author. Its success transcended every- thing which had ever been achieved in the Rus- sian literary world, but its contents served to evoke prolonged and passionate discussion, and, still more, bitter personal recrimination. Turge- nieff was assailed from all quarters and on every point of his romance, beginning with the word " nihilist," which many persons (especially for- eigners) still believe to have been of his devising. As a matter of fact, however, Nadezhdin l had ap- plied the epithet to the poet Pushkin in 1829 as well as to Polevoy and other representatives of literary romanticism, and Turgenieff merely adopted it in brder to characterise the new social type which he was introducing. The " Fathers " were displeased with their portraits, while the " Children " showered down upon the author sharp reproaches, and called the man whom they 1 Naddzhdin, a many-sided savant and critic. Polevoy, a promi- nent journalist. TRANSLATOR. 721.807 PREFACE had so lately been revering as the destroyer of serfdom, " a traitor to the cause of freedom." The Russian students at Heidelberg, of whom there were many at that period, even decided to call Turgenieff to account, and demand from him an explanation as to the meaning and aim of his romance. Turgenieff accepted the chal- lenge, journeyed expressly from Baden-Baden to Heidelberg, and furnished the explanation in the presence of a throng of his accusers the explanation being approximately the same as that which he afterward printed. All these, and many other unpleasantnesses, produced such an oppressive effect upon Turgenieff that he began seriously to meditate withdrawing from his lit- erary career. This desire to abandon literature is painfully expressed in the lyrical fragment, "It is Enough!" (1864). The situation was well summed up in an arti- cle, dating from 1862, by N. N. Strakhoff: 1 ' When the romance ' Fathers and Children ' made its appearance, people suddenly attacked it with feverish and persistent questions : * Whom does it praise? Whom does ?.t condemn? Which of the characters is a model for imitation? What sort of a romance is it progressive or retro- grade? ' And on this theme innumerable discus- sions arose. The matter was carried to the point 1 A well-known Russian philosophical writer a delightful man, for whose acquaintance in Russia I was indebted to Count L. N. Tolstoy. TRANSLATOR. Vi PREFACE of particulars, to the pettiest details : * Ba- zaroff drinks champagne!' 'Bazaroff plays cards!' 'Bazaroff is negligent in his dress!' ' What is the meaning of it? ' people asked in perplexity. f Ought he to do so, or ought lie not?' Each person settled the question in his own way, but every body regarded it as indis- pensable to deduce a moral and jot it down at the end of an enigmatical fable. But the decis- ions thus arrived at turned out absolutely incon- gruous. Some think that ' Fathers and Chil- dren ' is a satire on the young generation, that all the author's sympathies are on the side of the fathers. Others say that it is the fathers who are ridiculed and discredited in the romance, while the rising generation, on the contrary, is extolled. Some think that Bazaroff himself is to blame for his unfortunate relations to the people with whom he comes in contact ; others assert that, on the con- trary, those people are responsible for Bazaroff finding life difficult. . . In spite of all this, the romance is being eagerly read and is arousing more interest, one may venture to say, than any work of Turgenieff up to this time." Let us now turn to what Turgenieff himself has to say about his book. In a letter to Y. P. Polonsky (the poet), dated " Paris, January 24 (O. S.), 1862," he says: " My novel has been de- spatched to the Russian Messenger and will probably appear in the February number. I vii PREFACE expect to be well reviled, but I am pretty indif- ferent on that score." F. M. Dostoievsky, the great author, and A. N. Maikoff, the noted poet, delighted him by thoroughly understanding his novel, as he tells them in letters dated in March of that year. But most interesting is his letter of April 14-26 to K. K. Slutchevsky, 1 who had written to him concerning the bad impression which " Fathers and Children " had made on the students at Heidelberg University: " I am very anxious that there should be no misunder- standing as to my intentions," he writes. "" I answer point by point. " 1. Your first reproach reminds me of the one made to Gogol and others, because good people do not re- produce themselves in bad descendants. But Bazaroff, nevertheless, crushes all the other characters in the ro- mance. . . . The qualities ascribed to him are not ac- cidental. I wished to make him a tragic personage there was no place for tenderness there. He is honest, upright, and a democrat to the very tips of his finger- nails. But you find no good sides in him. * Stoff und Kraft ' he recommends precisely because it is a popular, that is to say, a futile book; the duel with Pavel Petro- vitch is introduced precisely for the purpose of demon- strating, at a glance, the triviality of elegantly-noble chivalry, which is set forth in an almost exaggeratedly- 1 Slutchevsky, a well-known poet. After retiring from the guards he went abroad and studied at various universities, including that of Heidelberg, there winning his degree of Ph. D. On his return to Russia he served in the Ministry of the Interior, and in 1891 was the editor-in-chief of the Governmental Messenger. TRANSLATOR. viii PREFACE comic manner ; and he could not get out of it, for PaVel Petr6vitch would have thrashed him. Bazaroff, in my opinion, constantly defeats Pavel Petrovitch, and not the other way about; and if he calls himself a nihilist, the word must be read: a revolutionist. " 2. What you have said about Arkady, about the rehabilitation of the fathers, and so forth, merely proves pardon me! that I have not been under- stood. My whole novel is directed against the nobility as the leading class. Look more closely at the characters of Nikolai Petrovitch, Pavel Petrovitch, and Arkady weakness and languor and limitedness. The aesthetic sense made me select precisely good representatives of the nobility, in order that I might the more surely prove my point : if the cream is bad, what about the milk ? It would be coarse le pont aux ones and not true to nature to take officials, generals, thieves, and so forth. All the genuine repudiators whom I have known without exception (Byelfnsky, Bakunin, Hertzen, Do- broliuboff, Spyeshneff, 1 and so forth) sprang from comparatively kind ahd honourable parents, and therein is contained a great thought : this removes from the actors, from the repudiators, every shadow of personal wrath, of personal irritation. They go their own way simply because they are more sensitive to the demands 1 Byelfnsky, the most noted of Russian critics. Bakunin, a noted revolutionist, debarred from returning to Russia. Hertzen, who wrote under the name of " Iskander," a famous publicist and revolu- tionist. Dobrolidboff, the most famous of the early Russian critics, after Byelinsky. Spyeshneff, one of the most famous men connected with the Petrashevsky conspiracy . He was banished to Siberia, where, later on, he filled governmental positions, and was the editor-in-chief of the Irkutsk Governmental News. Ogaryoff, a well-known poet, and writer on positivism and economical subjects. Stoly*pin, a writer, 1818-1893. Esakoff, an artist and academician. TRANSLATOR. ix PREFACE of popular life. Young Count S. is wrong when he says that persons like Nikolai Petrovitch and Pavel Petrovitch are our grandfathers: Nikolai Petrovitch is I myself, Ogaryoff and thousands of others; Pavel Pe- trovitch is Stolypin, Esakoff, Bosset, also our con- temporaries. They are the best of the nobles and precisely for that reason were chosen by me for the purpose of proving their insolvency. To depict on the one hand bribe-takers, on the other an ideal young man let others draw that picture. ... I wanted more than that. In one place I made Bazaroff say to Arkady (I excluded it on account of the censure), to that same Arkady in whom your Heidelberg com- rades descry the most successful type, ' Thy father is an honest fellow ; but even were he the very worst sort of a bribe-taker, thou wouldst nevertheless have gone no further than well-bred submission or ebullition, be- cause thou art a noble.' " 8. O Lord ! Madame Kukshfn, that caricature, is, in your opinion, the most successful of all! To that there is no answer. Madame Odmtzoff falls in love just as little with Arkady as with Bazaroff, how is it that you do not see that? She, also, is a represen- tative of our idle, dreamy, curious, and epicurean noble ladies our gentlewomen. Countess Salyas has under- stood that personage with perfect clearness. She would like first to stroke the fur of the wolf (Bazaroff), if only he would not bite then the curls of the little boy and to go on lying, well washed, on velvet. " 4. Bazaroff >s death (which Countess Salyas calls heroic and then criticises) was intended, according to my calculations, to apply the final trait to his tragic figure. But your young men think it is accidental ! X PREFACE " I will conclude with the following remark : If the reader does not fall in love with Bazaroff, with all his roughness, heartlessness, pitiless aridity and harshness, if the reader does not fall in love with him, I re- peat, I am to blame, and have not attained my aim. But I would not grow syrupy, to use his words, al- though thereby I should, in all probability, have in- stantly won all the young people to my side. I did not wish to make a bid for popularity by concessions of that sort. It is better to lose the battle (and, appar- ently, I have lost it) than to win it by a trick. I had conceived a great, grim, wild figure, half grown out of the soil, powerful, malicious, honest, and yet doomed to destruction because, nevertheless, it is still standing at the outer doors of the future I had conceived of a sort of strange pendant to the Pugatchyoffs, 1 and so forth but my youthful contemporaries say to me, shak- ing their heads the while : ' Thou hast made a mistake, m J good fellow, and hast even insulted us; thy Ar- kady has turned out better thou wert wrong not to take still more pains with him.' All that is left for me to do is, as in the gipsy song, * Doff my cap and bow full low.' So far, only the two persons who have understood Bazaroff, that is to say, have understood my intentions are Dostoievsky and V. P. Botkin. 2 I shall try to send you a copy of my novel, and now, basta on this subject. . . . " I shall not be passing through Heidelberg, but I should like to take a look at the young Russians there. Give them my regards, although they consider me be- 1 Pugatchyoff, the leader of an extensive rebellion in Eastern Russia, under Katherine II. TRAXSLATOR. 2 Botkin, a writer on art and foreign literature. TRANSLATOR. xi PREFACE hind the times. Tell them, that I beg them to wait a little while longer before they pronounce a final verdict. You may show this letter to whomsoever you please. In 1868 Turgenieff, in his " Literary Remi- niscences," gave the following succinct history of his famous novel from its inception : " I was taking sea-baths at Ventnor, a small town on the Isle of Wight in the month of August, 1860, when there occurred to me the first idea of ' Fathers and Children,' of that novel thanks to which the young gen- eration of Russians has ceased and, apparently forever to entertain a favourable opinion of me. More than once have I heard it said, and read in critical articles, that in my work I ' start from an idea/ or ' impose an idea.' Some have lauded me for this; others, on the contrary, have upbraided me. For my part, I must confess that I have never attempted to ' create an image ' unless I had as my point of departure not an idea, but a living person, which was gradually al- loyed by the application of befitting elements. As I do not possess a large share of independent inventive power, I have always required a given soil whereon I might firmly set my feet. This is exactly what took place, also, in the case of ' Fathers and Children ' : at the foundation of the principal figure, Bazaroff, lay a personality which had greatly impressed me that of a young country physician. (He died not long before 1860.) In that remarkable man was incarnated in my eyes that principle, as yet barely conceived, and still floating, which afterward received the appellation of xii PREFACE nihilism. The impression made upon me by that per- sonality was extremely strong, and, at the same time, not quite clear; at first, I could not fully account for it to myself and with strained attention I listened and watched everything which surrounded me, as though de- sirous of verifying the correctness of my own percep- tions. I was perplexed by the following fact: in not a single production of our literature did I encounter so much as a hint of that which I seemed to feel everywhere about me; I was involuntarily assailed by doubts as to whether I were not pursuing a phantom. " I remember that with me on the Isle of Wight there dwelt a Russian man gifted with extremely delicate taste and remarkable sensitiveness for that which the late Apollon Grigorieff called the * emanations ' of the epoch. I imparted to him the thoughts which were en- grossing me and with dumb amazement listened to the following remark : ' Why, I think thou hast already presented a similar type .... in Rudin, hast thou not ? ' I held my peace : what was there to be said ? Are Rudin and Bazaroff one and the same type? " These words had such an effect on me that for the space of several weeks I avoided all meditation on the work which I had undertaken ; but, on returning to Paris, I began on it again the fable had gradually assumed concrete form in my mind. During the win- ter I wrote the first chapters, but finished the novel in Russia, in the country, in July. In the autumn I read it over with several friends, made changes here and there, amplified it, and in March, 1862, ' Fathers and Children ' made its appearance in the Russian Mes- senger. " I will not enlarge upon the impression produced xiii PREFACE by that novel; I will say only that when I returned to Petersburg, on the very day of the famous burning of the Apraxin Bazaar, 1 the word ' nihilist ' had already been caught up by thousands of voices, and the first ex- clamation which broke from the lips of the first acquaint- ance whom I met on the Nevsky (Prospekt) was: ' Just see what your nihilists are doing ! They are burning Petersburg ! ' I then experienced impressions of a varied but all of an equally painful nature. I noticed coldness, verging on indignation, in many per- sons near and sympathetic to me: I received congrat- ulations, almost kisses, from persons of the opposite camp to me, from my enemies. This disconcerted me .... grieved me; but my conscience did not reproach me; I knew well that I had borne myself honourably, and not only without prejudice but even with sym- pathetic interest, toward the type which I had set forth ; 2 I had too much respect for the profession of artist, of literary man, to act against my conscience in such a matter. The word ' respect ' is even not quite appro- priate here. I simply could not work otherwise, I did not know how; and, moreover, there was not reason for so doing. My critics called my novel a ' pamphlet,' they alluded to ' irritated,' * wounded ' self-love ; but why should I write a pamphlet against Dobroliuboff, whom I had hardly ever seen, but whom I valued highly both as a man and as a talented writer? However 1 A huge market of lower-class shops not far from the Imperial Bank, the Anftchkoff palace, and so forth. TRANSLATOR. 2 I permit myself to quote the following extract from my diary : " June 30, Sunday. An hour and a half ago I finished my romance at last. ... I do not know what success it will have. The Contempo- rary, in all probability, will drench me with scorn for Baza"roff, and * * will not believe that during the entire time of writing I was not involuntarily aiming at him " xiv PREFACE modest may have been my opinion of my own gifts, I nevertheless always have considered and do consider the composition of a pamphlet, of a ' lampoon,' as beneath it, unworthy of it. As for the ' wounded ' self-love I will remark merely, that Dobroliuboff's article about my last production before ' Fathers and Children '- about * On the Eve ' (and he had a right to regard himself as the representative of public opinion) that that article, which appeared in 1861, is filled with the warmest, or, speaking as my conscience dictates, with the most undeserved praises. But the critics felt bound to represent me as an offended pamphletist : * leur siege etait fait.' . . . " The critics, in general, have a far from accurate conception of what takes place in an author's soul, of what, precisely, constitutes his joy and sorrow, his aspirations, his success and failure .... they will not believe that an author's highest happiness is to set forth the truth, the reality of life, powerfully and accurately, even when that truth does not coincide with his own sympathies. I permit myself to cite a small instance. I am a radical, incorrigible advocate of Western meth- ods, and have never concealed that fact in the slightest degree, and do not conceal it; nevertheless, in spite of that, I set forth with special satisfaction in the person of Panshin (in 'A Nobleman's Nest') all the comical and trivial sides of Westernism; I made the Slavyano- phil Lavretzky * defeat him on every point.' Why did I do it, I, who regard the Slavyanophil doctrine as false and sterile? Because, in the given case, precisely in that manner, in my opinion, was life ordered, and I wished, first of all, to be sincere and truthful. In de- lineating the figure of Bazcaroff, I excluded from the XV PREFACE circle of his sympathies everything artistic, I endowed him with harshness and an unceremonious tone, not out of an absurd desire to offend the young genera- tion ( ! ! !) l but simply in consequence of my observa- tions had nothing to do with the matter; but probably him. * This life has moulded itself in this way/ expe- rience said to me again erroneously, it may be, but, I repeat it, conscientiously; there was no occasion for subtilising on my part and I was obliged to depict his figure in precisely that manner. My personal inclina- tions had nothing to do with the matter; but probably many of my readers will be surprised if I tell them that, with the exception of his views on art, I share almost all his convictions. Yet people assert that I side with the * Fathers ' . . . I, who in the figure of Pavel Kirsanoff have even sinned against artistic truth and have laid on the colours too thickly, carried his defects to the point of caricature, made him ridiculous ! " The whole cause of the misunderstanding, the whole * trouble ' as the saying is, consisted in this that the Bazaroff type which I presented had not yet succeeded in passing through the gradual phases, through which literary types generally do pass. There did not fall to his lot as to the lot of Onyegin and Petchorin 2 the epoch of idealisation, of sympathetic exaltation. At 1 Among the many proofs of my " malice toward youth," one critic adduced the fact that I had made Bazaroff lose to Father Alexye"! at cards. "As much as to say, that he does not know how sufficiently to wound and humiliate him! He does not even know how to play cards! " No doubt, if I had made Bazaroff win, the same critic would have triumphantly exclaimed : " Is n't it perfectly plain ? The author wants to have it understood that Bazaroff is a card-sharper! " 2 EvgtSny Onydgin, the hero of Pushkin's poem of the same title. Petchdrin, the hero of Le'rmontoff's famous novel, "A Hero of Our Times." TRANSLATOR. xvi PREFACE the very moment of the new man's BazarofPs ap- pearance, the author bore himself critically .... ob- jectively toward him. This bewildered, and who knows? therein lay, possibly, if not a mistake, an in- justice. The Bazaroff type had, at all events, as much right to idealisation as the types which had preceded it. " I have just said that the author's relations to the person set forth have bewildered the reader. The reader always feels awkward, he is easily seized with perplex- ity, even vexation, if the author behaves with the char- acter depicted as with a living being, that is to say, perceives and sets forth his bad and his good sides, and most of all, if he does not display manifest sym- pathy or antipathy to his own offspring. The reader is ready to wax angry; he is forced to proceed along a path which has not hitherto been sketched out, and make the road at his own expense. * What do I care about toiling ! ' the thought involuntarily springs up in him : * books exist for diversion, not to make one cudgel his brains ; and how much would it have cost the author to say, what I am to think about such and such a person what he thinks of the person himself? ' And if the author's relations to that person are still more indefinite, if the author himself does not know whether he likes or dislikes the character presented (as it happened in the case of my relations to Bazaroff, for that * involuntary attraction ' to which I alluded in my diary is not love) then things are indeed in a bad way ! The reader is ready to attribute to the author imaginary sympathies, or imaginary antipathies, if only for the sake of extricating himself from the disagreeable ' in- definiteness.' " * Neither Fathers nor Children,' said a witty lady xvii PREFACE to me, after reading my book: 'that is the proper title for your novel and you yourself are a nihilist.' A similar opinion was pronounced, with still greater force, on the appearance of * Smoke.' I shall not un- dertake to retort; perhaps that lady spoke the truth. In the matter of writing, every one (I judge by myself) does not that which he wishes, but that which he is able and to the degree of his ability. I assume that lit- erary productions should be judged en gros, and, while rigorously demanding conscientiousness from the au- thor, the public must contemplate the remainder of his activity I will not say with indifference, but with composure. But, with the fullest desire to please my critics, I cannot admit that I am guilty of lack of con- scientiousness. " In conection with ' Fathers and Children ' I have made a very curious collection of letters and other documents. A comparison of them is not devoid of interest. At the time when some people are accusing me of insulting the rising generation, of being behind the times, of insanity, and informing me that ' they are burning my photographs with a laugh of scorn,' others, on the contrary, indignantly upbraid me with cringing slavishly before that same rising generation. * You crawl at Bazaroff's feet ! ' exclaims one corre- spondent 'you merely pretend to condemn him; in reality, you fawn on him and await, as a gracious fa- vour, one of his careless smiles!' I remember that one critic, in powerful and eloquent phrases, levelled straight at my head, represented me and Mr. Katkoff 1 in the light of a couple of conspirators, plotting in the si- 1 The editor of the Russian Messenger, in which the book first appeared. TRANSLATOR. xviii PREFACE lence of an isolated study their revolting machinations, their calumnies of young Russian forces. The picture was extremely effective! As a matter of fact, this is the way that * conspiracy ' came about. When Mr. Katkoff received from me the manuscript of * Fathers and Children,' of whose contents he had not even an approximate knowledge, he was puzzled. The type of Bazaroff seemed to him ' almost an apotheosis of " The CONTEMPORARY," ' and I should not have been surprised if he had declined to insert my novel in his journal. * Et voila comme on ecrit I'histoire! ' one might exclaim at this point . . . but is it permissable to magnify such petty things by such a resounding name? " On the other hand, I understand the causes of wrath which my book aroused in a certain party. They are not without foundation, and I accept without false resignation a portion of the reproaches which have fallen upon me. The word * nihilist ' which I launched was used at the time by many persons who were only waiting for a chance, a pretext, in order to put a stop to the movement which had seized upon Russian society. Not with a view to upbraid, not with the object of insulting, did I employ that word, but as an exact and fitting expression of a historical fact which had pre- sented itself; it was converted into a weapon of denun- ciation, of irrevocable condemnation, almost into a brand of disgrace. Several sad events, which occurred at that epoch, afforded still further aliment to the suspicion which had been engendered and, as though in confirmation of the wide-spread apprehensions, jus- tified the efforts and labours of our * saviours of the fatherland ' . . . . for * saviours of the fatherland ' xix PREFACE made their appearance among us in Russia also, at that period. Public opinion, still so ill-defined among us, rushed in a receding wave. . . . But a shadow lay on my name. I am not deceiving myself; I know that that shadow will not depart from my name. But other peo- ple also people before whom I am too profoundly con- scious of my insignificance have uttered the grand words: ' Perissent nos noms; pourvu que la chose pub- lique soit sauvee! * In imitation of them I also may console myself with the thought of the good I have done. That thought outweighs the unpleasantness of unmerited abuse. But, as a matter of fact, what does it matter? Who, after the expiration of twenty or thirty years, will remember all those tempests in a glass of water and my name with or without a shadow?" I. F. H. XX FATHERS AND CHILDREN (1861) FATHERS AND CHILDREN V17TELL, Piotr ? Is anything to be seen yet? " W inquired a gentleman a little over forty years of age, in a dusty coat and checked trou- sers, on May 20th, 1859, as he emerged hatless upon the low porch of a posting-station on the * * * highway, of his servant, a chubby-faced young fellow, with whitish down on his chin, and small, dull eyes. The servant, whose every characteristic the turquoise ear-ring in his ear, and his pomaded, party-coloured hair, and the urbane movements of his body, everything, in a word, betrayed a man of the newest, perfected generation, gazed condescendingly along the road, and replied: " Nothing at all, sir, is to be seen." " Is nothing to be seen? " repeated the gentle- man. " Nothing is to be seen," replied the servant, for the second time. His master sighed, and seated himself on the bench. Let us make the reader acquainted with him, while he sits there, with his feet tucked up under him, and gazing thoughtfully around him. 3 FATHERS AND CHILDREN His name is Nikolai Petrovitch Kirsanoff . At a distance of fifteen versts * from the posting-sta- tion, he has a fine estate of two hundred souls, or as he is in the habit of expressing it since he por- tioned off to the peasants their land and set up a " farm "of two thousand desyatinas 2 of land. His father, a fighting general of 1812, able to read and write only indifferently, coarse, but not vicious, a Russian man, had toiled hard for a live- lihood all his life, had commanded first a brigade, then a division, and had lived uninterruptedly in the rural districts, where, by virtue of his rank, he had played a fairly prominent part. Nikolai Petrovitch had been born in the south of Russia, like his elder brother Pavel, of whom we shall speak hereafter, and had been reared, up to his fourteenth year, at home, surrounded by cheap tutors, free-and-easy but obsequious adjutants, and other regimental and staff officers. His mo- ther, from the family of the Kolyazins, called Agathe as a young girl, and as Madame the wife of the General, Agafoklea Kuzminishna Kirsa- noff, belonged to the category of " masterful- commanderesses," wore sumptuous caps and rustling silken gowns, went up first to kiss the cross in church, talked loudly and much, admitted her children to kiss her hand every morning, made the sign of the cross in blessing over them at night, 1 Ten mites. TRANSLATOR. * A desyatina equals 2.70 acres. TRANSLATOR. 4 FATHERS AND CHILDREN in a word, led an enjoyable life. In his quality of son of a general, Nikolai Petrovitch, although he not only was not distinguished for courage, but had even earned the nickname of a little coward, was forced, like his brother Pavel, to enter the military service ; but he broke his leg the very day that the news of his appointment arrived, and, after lying in bed for two months, remained a " limpy " for the rest of his life. His father gave up all hope of him, and allowed him to enter the civil service. He took him to Petersburg, as soon as he was eighteen, and placed him in the uni- versity. His brother, by the way, graduated into the Guards as an officer, just about that time. The young men began to live together, in one set of lodgings, under the remote supervision of a grand-uncle on their mother's side, Ilya Kolyazin, an important official. Their father went back to his division and to his spouse, and only occasion- ally sent to his sons big quarto sheets of grey pa- per, scrawled over in a bold, clerkly script. At the end of these quarto sheets, carefully encircled by "curly-cues," flaunted the words: " Piotr Kirsanoff, Major-General." In 1885 Nikolai Pe- trovitch graduated from the university with the degree of candidate, and, in that same year, Gen- eral KirsanofF, having been put on the retired list for an unsuccessful review, arrived in Petersburg with his wife, with the intention of living there. He was on the point of hiring a house near the 5 FATHERS AND CHILDREN Tauris Garden, 1 and joining the English Club, when he suddenly died of apoplexy. Agaf oklea Kuzminishna speedily followed him: she could not get accustomed to the dull life of the capital ; the grief of her position on the retired list worried her to death. In the meantime, Nikolai Petrovitch had succeeded, already during the lifetime of his parents, and to their no small chagrin, in falling in love with the daughter of an official named Prepolovensky, the former landlord of his lodg- ings, a pretty and, it was said, a well-educated young girl : she read the serious articles, under the department labelled " Science," in the news- papers. He married her, as soon as the period of mourning was over, and quitting the Ministry of the Imperial Appanages, where he had been entered through the influence of his father, he en- joyed felicity with his Masha, first in a villa near the Forestry Institute, then in town, in a tiny and pretty apartment with a clean staircase and a rather cold drawing-room, and, at last, in the coun- try, where he definitively settled down, and where a son, Arkady, was shortly born to him. The hus- band and wife lived very well and quietly: they were hardly ever separated they read together, played four-handed pieces together on the piano, 1 The Tauris Garden, part of which is open to the public in summer, lies in a good residential quarter of the town, attached to the Tauris Palace. The latter was built in 1783 by the Empress Katharine II. for Prince Patydmkin, after his conquest of the Crimea. It was soon bought back, at Patyomkin's death, by the Crown. TRANSLATOR. tt FATHERS AND CHILDREN sang duets; she planted flowers, and supervised the poultry-yard; he went hunting on rare occa- sions, and occupied himself with the farming ; and Arkady grew, and grew also well and quietly. In the year '47, Kirsanoff's wife died. He hardly survived this blow, and his hair turned grey in the course of a few weeks: he contemplated going abroad, for the purpose of diverting his mind . . . but the year '48 arrived at this juncture willy-nilly, he returned to the country, and after a rather prolonged season of inactivity he under- took agricultural reforms. In the year 1855, he took his son to the university : he spent three win- ters with him in Petersburg, going out hardly at all, and endeavouring to strike up acquaintance with Arkady's youthful comrades. He was un- able to come for the last winter, and here we be- hold him, in May of the year 1859, already com- pletely grey, plump, and rather stooping: he is awaiting his son, who, like himself in years gone by, has graduated with the degree of candidate. The servant, out of a sense of decorum, and possibly also because he did not wish to remain under his master's eye, stepped under the gate- arch and lighted his pipe. Nikolai Petrovitch hung his head, and began to stare at the decrepit steps of the porch ; a large, piebald chicken stalked pompously past him, with a sturdy thud of its big, yellow feet; a bespattered cat stared at him in hostile wise, as she crouched primly on the rail- 7 FATHERS AND CHILDREN ing. The sun was burning hot: from the half- dark anteroom of the posting-station an odour of warm rye bread was wafted. Our Nikolai Petro- vitch fell into a reverie : " Son . . . candidate .... Arkasha . . . ." kept incessantly circling through his brain ; he made an effort to think of something else, and again reverted to the same thoughts. He called to mind his dead wife. ..." She did not live to see this day! " he whispered mournfully. .... A fat, dark-blue pigeon flew down into the road, and hastily betook itself to the puddle be- side the well, to drink. Nikolai Petrovitch began to stare at it, but his ear already caught the rumble of approaching wheels. " I think they are coming, sir," announced the servant, popping out from under the gate. Nikolai Petrovitch sprang to his feet, and strained his eyes along the road. A tarantas made its appearance, drawn by a troika of post- ing-horses: in the tarantas there was a gleam of the band of a student's cap, the familiar outline of a beloved face. " Arkasha! Arkasha! " shouted Kirsanoff, and started on a run, flourishing his arms A few moments later, his lips were glued to the beardless, dusty, and sunburnt cheek of the young candidate. 8 II " LET me shake myself, papa," said Arkddy, in a voice that was rather hoarse from the journey, but ringing and youthful, cheerily responding to his father's caresses," I am daubing thee all over." " Never mind, never mind," Nikolai Petrovitch repeated again and again, with a smile of emotion, and he administered a couple of blows with his hand on the collar of his son's cloak and on his own overcoat." Let me look at thee, let me look at thee," he added, stepping off, but immediately strode toward the posting-station with hasty steps, reiterating: "Here, come along, come along, and let us have horses as speedily as possible." Nikoldi Petr6vitch appeared to be far more agitated than his son: it was as though he were somewhat bewildered, as though he were intimi- dated. Arkady stopped him. " Papa," he said, " allow me to introduce to thee my good friend Bazaroff, of whom I have so often written to thee. He has been so amiable as to consent to pay us a visit." 9 FATHERS AND CHILDREN Nikolai Petrovitch wheeled swiftly round, and stepping up to a man of lofty stature, in a long peasant's overcoat with tassels, who had only just alighted from the tarantas, he warmly shook the bare, red hand which the man did not immediately offer him. " I am heartily glad," he began, " and grate- ful to you for your kind intention to visit us: I hope . . . Permit me to inquire your name and patronymic? " " Evgeny Vasilitch," replied Bazaroff, in a languid but manly voice, and turning down the collar of the peasant coat, he displayed his entire face to Nikolai Petrovitch. Long and thin, with a broad forehead, a nose which was flat at the top and pointed at the tip, with large, greenish eyes, and pendent sidewhiskers of a sandy hue, it was rendered animated by a calm smile, and expressed self-confidence and cleverness. " I trust, my dearest Evgeny Vasilitch, that you will not be bored with us," went on Nikolai Petrovitch. Bazaroff 's thin lips moved slightly; but he made no reply, and merely lifted his cap. His dark-blond hair, long and thick, did not conceal the huge protuberances of his ample skull. " Well, what are we to do, Arkady? " began Nikolai Petrovitch, again turning to his son. " Shall we have the horses put to at once? Or do you wish to rest? " 10 FATHERS AND CHILDREN ' We will rest at home, papa; give orders to have the horses put to." " Immediately, immediately," assented his father. " Hey, there, Piotr, dost thou hear? Look lively there, my good brother; see to things." Piotr, who, in his quality of improved domestic, had not kissed his young master's hand, but had merely bowed to him from a distance, again van- ished inside the gate. " I am here with a calash, but there are three horses for thy tarantas," said Nikolai Petrovitch hastily, while Arkady was drinking water out of an iron dipper brought by the keeper of the post- ing-station, and Bazaroff lighted his pipe and stepped up to the postilion, who was unharnessing his horses. " The calash has only two seats, and I do not know how thy friend . . . ." " He will drive in the tarantas," interrupted Arkady, in an undertone. " Please do not stand on ceremony with him. He 's a splendid young fellow, so simple, thou wilt see." Nikolai Petrovitch's coachman brought out the horses. " Come, turn round, Thickbeard! " said Ba- zaroff to the postilion. " Dost hear, Mitiiikha," put in another pos- tilion, who was standing near, with his hands thrust into the rear slits of his sheepskin coat, " what the gentleman called thee? Thickbeard it was." 11 FATHERS AND CHILDREN Mitiukha merely shook his cap, and drew the reins from the sweating shaft-horse. " Be quick, be quick, my lads, lend a hand," exclaimed Nikolai Petrovitch, " and you '11 get something for liquor! " In a few minutes the horses were harnessed; father and son seated themselves in the calash, and Piotr climbed on the box ; Bazaroff jumped into the tarantas and buried his head in the leather pil- low, and both equipages rolled off. Ill " So here thou art a candidate at last, and hast come home," said Nikolai Petrovitch, touching Arkady now on the shoulder, now on the knee: "at last!" " And how is uncle? Well? " asked Arkady, who, despite the genuine, almost childish joy which filled his heart, wished to change the conver- sation as speedily as possible from an agitated into a commonplace current. * Yes. He had intended to drive over with me to meet thee, but changed his mind for some rea- son or other." " And hast thou been waiting long for me? " asked Arkady. ' Why, about five hours." "Good papa!" Arkady turned briskly toward his father, and gave him a resounding smack on the cheek. Niko- lai Petrovitch laughed softly. ' What a magnificent horse I have prepared for thee! "he began: " thou wilt see. And thy room has been papered." " And is there a chamber for Bazaroff? " " We '11 find one for him also." 13 FATHERS AND CHILDREN " Please, papa, do pet him a bit. I cannot ex- press to thee to what a degree I prize his friend- ship." " Thou hast not known him very long? " " Not very long." " That is why I did not see him last winter. In what does he interest himself? " " His principal subject is the natural sciences. But he knows everything. He wants to take his examination for the doctor's degree next year." "Ah! so he's in the medical faculty," re- marked Nikolai Petrovitch, and relapsed into silence. " Piotr," he added, and stretched out his hand, "aren't those our peasants coming yonder? " Piotr gazed on one side, in the direction whither his master was pointing. Several peasant carts, drawn by horses with slackened bridles, were roll- ing briskly along the narrow country road. In each cart sat one, or at the most two, peasants in sheepskin coats which were open on the breast. " Exactly so, sir," said Piotr. " Whither are they going to town? " " I suppose it must be to the town. To the dram-shop," he added scornfully, and leaned a little toward the coachman, as though referring to him. But the latter did not even stir: he was a man of the old school, who did not share the latest views. 14 FATHERS AND CHILDREN " I am having a great deal of trouble with the peasants this year," pursued Nikolai Petrovitch, addressing his son. " They will not pay their quit-rent. 1 What wouldst thou do? " " And art thou satisfied with thy hired la- bourers? " " Yes," said Nikolai Petrovitch between his teeth. " They are stirring them up to mischief, that 's the trouble ; however, no regular attempt has been made, as yet. They ruin the harnesses. But they have done the ploughing all right. When difficulties are surmounted, all goes well again. But art thou already interested in the farming? " " You have no shade, and that 's a great pity," remarked Arkady, without answering the last question. " I have added a large awning on the north side, over the balcony," said Nikolai Petrovitch: " and now we can dine in the open air." " It will look awfully like a suburban villa . . . however, all that is of no consequence. What air there is here! How splendidly fragrant it is! Really, it seems to me that nowhere in the world is it so fragrant as in these parts! And then the sky here . . ." Arkady suddenly paused, cast a sidelong glance behind him, and became silent. " Of course," remarked Nikolai Petrovitch, The obrok, or sum paid in lieu of personal labor. TRANSLATOR. 15 FATHERS AND CHILDREN " thou wert born here, and everything here ought to seem to thee peculiarly . . . ." ' Well, papa, it makes no difference where a man was born." " But " " No, it makes absolutely no difference." Nikolai Petrovitch gazed askance at his son, and the calash had traversed half a verst before the conversation was resumed between them. " I do not remember whether I wrote to thee," began Nikolai Petrovitch, " that thy former nurse, Egorovna, was dead." " Really? Poor old woman! And is Proko- fitch alive? " " Yes, and has not changed in the least. He still grumbles as of old. On the whole, thou wilt not find many changes at Marino." " Hast thou still the same overseer? " :< Why, the change in the overseer is about the only one I have made. I have decided not to keep any more emancipated, former house- servants, or, at least, not to entrust them with any duties which involve responsibility." (Arkady indicated Piotr with his eyes. ) " II est libre, en effet" remarked Nikolai Petrovitch, in a low tone, " but, you see, he is my valet. Now I have a petty burgher as overseer : he seems a prac- tical young fellow. I have appointed him a salary of two hundred and fifty rubles a year. How- ever," added Nikolai Petrovitch, rubbing his 16 FATHERS AND CHILDREN forehead and eyebrows with his hand, which with him was always a sign of inward perturbation, " I have just told thee that thou wouldst not find any changes at Marino. . . That is not quite cor- rect. I consider it my duty to warn thee, al- though . . ." He faltered for a moment, and then continued, in French. " A strict moralist would regard my frankness as misplaced, but, in the first place, it is impos- sible to conceal the fact, and, in the second, thou art well aware that I have always entertained pe- culiar principles with regard to the relations be- tween father and son. But, of course, thou wilt have a right to condemn me. At my age .... In a word . . . that . . . that young girl, of whom thou hast, in all probability, already heard . . ." " Fenitchka? " asked Arkady easily. Nikolai Petrovitch flushed. " Please do not mention her name aloud. . . . Well, yes . . . she is now living with me. I have lodged her in my house .... there were two small rooms there. However, that can be changed." " And why, pray, papa? " " Thy friend is to visit thee . . it is awkward ..." " Please do not worry thyself, so far as Ba- zaroff is concerned. He is above all that sort of thing." " Well, thou ... in short," said Nikolai Petro- 17 FATHERS AND CHILDREN vitch, " the small wing is in a sorry state that 's the difficulty." : * Upon my word, papa," interpolated Ar- kady," thou wouldst seem to be making apolo- gies; art thou not ashamed of thyself? " " Of course, I ought to be ashamed of myself," replied Nikolai Petrovitch, growing more and more crimson in the face. " Enough, papa, enough, please," Arkady smiled affectionately. ' What is there to apolo- gise for! " he thought to himself, and a sensation of condescending tenderness toward his kind, gentle father, mingled with a f eeling of a certain superiority over him, filled his soul. " Stop, please," he repeated once more, involuntarily enjoying the consciousness of his own progres- siveness and freedom. Nikolai Petrovitch cast a look at him from be- neath the fingers of the hand with which he con- tinued to rub his forehead, and something stung him at the heart. . . . But he immediately took himself to task. " Here is where our fields begin," he said, after a long silence. " And that is our forest, yonder ahead, I think? " inquired Arkady. " Yes, it is ours. Only, I have sold it. It will be felled this year." " Why didst thou sell it? " 18 FATHERS AND CHILDREN " I needed the money : and, besides, this land goes to the peasants." " Who do not pay thee their quit-rent? " " That 's their affair ; however, they will pay up some time or other." " It is a pity about the forest," remarked Ar- kady, and began to gaze about him. The localities through which they were passing could not be called picturesque. Fields, nothing but fields, stretched away to the very horizon, now rising gently, again sinking ; here and there small patches of forest were visible, and here and there ravines, overgrown with sparse, low bushes, wound in and out, recalling to the eye the repre- sentations of them on ancient plans of the time of Katherine II. Here and there, also, small streams were to be encountered, with washed-out banks, and tiny ponds with wretched dams, and little hamlets with low cottages under dark roofs, which often had been half swept away, and lop-sided threshing-sheds with wattled walls of brushwood, and churches, now of brick with the stucco peeled off in places, now of wood, with slanting crosses and ruined graveyards. Ar- kady's heart gradually contracted. As though expressly, they kept meeting peasants in clothing which was too tight with long wear, on wretched nags ; like beggars in rags stood the roadside wil- lows, with tattered bark and broken branches; 19 FATHERS AND CHILDREN thin, scabby, apparently famished cows were greedily nibbling at the grass along the ditches. They seemed to have just succeeded in tearing themselves from some menacing, death-dealing talons, and, evoked by the pitiful aspect of the debilitated beasts, amid the fine spring day, there arose the white wraith of the cheerless, endless winter, with its blizzards, frosts, and snows. . . . " No," thought Arkady, " this is not a rich land; it does not strike the beholder with its abundance or its industry; it is impossible, im- possible for it to remain like this ; reforms are in- dispensable . . . but how are they to be brought about, how is one to set to work? . . ." Thus did Arkady meditate . . . and while he was meditating, the spring asserted its rights. Every- thing round about was ringing with a golden sound, everything was stirring with broad, soft agitation and shining beneath the tranquil breath of the warm breeze, everything, trees, bushes, and grass; everywhere the larks were carolling in unending, sonorous floods; the lapwings were alternately shrilling, as they soared in circles above the low-lying meadows, and silently hop- ping over the hillocks; the daws stalked about, handsomely black against the tender green of the spring rye, which was still low of growth; they preached sermons in the rye, which was already turning slightly whitish, only now and then show- ing their heads amid its smokelike billows. Ar- 20 FATHERS AND CHILDREN kady gazed, and gazed, and his meditations grad- ually faded away, then vanished altogether. . . . He flung off his uniform coat, and looked at his father so merrily, so much like a young boy, that the latter embraced him once more. ' We have not much further to go now," re- marked Nikolai Petrovitch, " we have only to ascend yonder hill, and the house will be visible. We are going to get on together splendidly, Ar- kasha; thou shalt help me with the farming, if it does not bore thee. We must become intimate with each other now; we must know each other well, must we not? " "Of course," said Arkady: "but what a magnificent day this is ! " "It is in honour of thy arrival, dear heart. Yes, it is spring in all its glory. But I agree with Pushkin dost thou remember, in ' Evgeny Onyegin ' : "How sad is thy coming to me, Spring, spring, the time of love! How . . . ." "Arkady! "rang out Bazaroff's voice from the tarantas: " send me a match. I have no means of lighting my pipe." Nikolai Petrovitch relapsed into silence, and Arkady, who had begun to listen to him, not with- out a certain surprise, but also not without sym- 21 FATHERS AND CHILDREN pathy, hastened to pull a silver match-box from his pocket and despatch it to Bazaroff by Piotr. " Wilt thou have a cigar? "shouted Bazaroff again. " Hand it over," replied Arkady. Piotr returned to the calash, and handed him, in company with the match-box, a thick, black cigar, which Arkady immediately lighted, dis- seminating about him such a strong and acrid odour of rank tobacco that Nikolai Petrovitch, who had never smoked in his life, involuntarily though unperceived, in order not to offend his son turned away his nose. A quarter of an hour later, both carriages drew up at the steps of a new wooden house, painted grey, and covered with a red iron roof. This was Marino, also Novaya-Slobodka; or, according to the peasants' name for it, Bobyly-Khutor. 1 1 N