Turgenev – Fathers and Sons, First Edition, 1867, English translation bay Eugene Schuyler
Fathers and Sons is a novel by Ivan Turgenev published in 1862. Its reputation in Russia and abroad remains stout as ever after it gained a following in continental Europe as the foremost Russian novel of the 19th century. It highlights the conflict between the established order and the younger, more radical generation in society. In a way it is a preview of the Bolshevik revolution to come.
Bazarov, the central character of the novel, representing the younger generation, is represented as a ‘nihilist’, or a skeptic about any political causes and philosophical –isms that are advocated in society by their champions. However, though Bazarov sets himself up as a nihilist, he has humanist tendencies; for example, he puts his medical skills in the service of the peasants he freely associates with, though he is the son a small landowner himself. So too the brothers Kirsanov with whom he has arguments have long since freed their serfs; their liberal-minded egalitarian nature is evident.
Falling in love is treated in various ways. There is the simple seigneurial manner in which Nikolai Kirsanov takes to Fenechka; the romantic manner in which Arkady ultimately falls for Katya, sister of Odintsova; and finally the more intellectual, and at the same time refined attraction that emerges between Odintsova and Bazarov. Bazarov’s first reaction is: “What a magnificent body; shouldn't I like to see it on the dissecting-table.” But when his plan to possess her physically fails, he won’t fall for chivalrous sentiments. He has to admit finally the fact that he is in love with a real but unattainable woman.
The duel scene in Chapter 24 is set up on the flimsiest of excuses, that Bazarov who stole a kiss from Fenechka, the concubine-mistress of Nikolai, has been caught in the act by Pavel, Nikolai’s brother. Some see it as the dramatic high point of the novel, but it is in fact a comic absurdity. Whether Turgenev meant it thus is debatable, but our readers derived only general merriment from the scene.
Turgenev lived in Paris in the latter part of his life with his friends, Madame Pauline Viardot and her husband. Turgenev, it seems, had a passion for painting and was a discerning critic.
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Biography
Ivan Sergeyevich Turgenev was a Russian novelist short story writer, poet, playwright. He was born in Oryol on 9th November 1818 to parents of Russian nobility, Sergei Turgenev and Varvara Petrovna .
Of the great Russian realist novelists of the nineteenth century it was neither Tolstoy or Dostoevsky who first caught the attention of the English speaking world, but their contemporary, Ivan Turgenev. Thanks largely to the work of the critic and translator William Ralston, Turgenev ‘s work quickly became popular in the anglophone world and he was awarded an honorary D.Litt. by Oxford University in 1879.
His mother Varvara Petrovna was a capricious and cruel woman. Her baronial estate of Spasskoye contained twenty villages. She had control of five thousand serfs and it’s reported that she had some of her serfs deported to Siberia because they did not doff their hats in her presence. She came into her inheritance at the age of twenty six, and three years later married a twenty-three-year-old army officer, Sergei Turgenev. He belonged to an ancient family of aristocrats who had fallen on hard times and possessed only one village, having a mere hundred and thirty serfs.
Ivan Turgenev had an older brother Nikolai and a younger brother Sergei
As in most upper class families of the time, French was spoken as the language of preference at home because Russian was considered a barbaric language. Turgenev became fluent in French from a young age and also acquired a good knowledge of German from private tutors. His parents ignored their sons, leaving Ivan ample time to roam around the locality, getting to know the peasants. playing with their children. It was from them that Turgenev learnt spoken Russian. He later claimed that he was taught to to read and write Russian by his father’s valet.
In 1827 the whole family moved to Moscow where the boys were enrolled in a private academy.
After the standard schooling he studied for one year at the University of Moscow and then moved to the University of Saint Petersburg focusing on Classics, Russian literature and philology.
Like many of his educated contemporaries he was opposed to serfdom. Turgenev never married but he had affairs with serf women who worked for the family. One such liaison resulted in the birth of his illegitimate daughter, Paulinette.
Turgenev did not start his literary career as a novelist, or even as a prose-writer, but as a poet. His first poem Evening dates from 1833, but it was Parasha a long poem in the Pushkinian mode that made his name.
His reputation later rested largely on his novels: Rudin (1856), Home of the Gentry (1859), On the Eve (1860), Fathers and Children (1862), Smoke (1871) and Virgin Soil (1877).
During the latter part of his life he did not reside much in Russia. He lived either in Baden-Baden or Paris, often in proximity to the family of the celebrated opera singer Pauline Viardot with whom he had a lifelong affair.
Turgenev’s health steadily declined. He died on 3rd September 1883 of a spinal abscess in his house near Paris. His remains were taken to Russia and buried in St. Petersburg.
The novel Fathers and Children
Fathers and Children sometimes translated as Fathers and Sons is generally considered to be Turgenev masterpiece. In this novel he attempts to portray the kind of Russian ‘new man’ who has energy and drive and is actively striving to change Russian society.
Turgenev first conceived Fathers and Children when he was taking a dip in the sea on the beach of Ventnor on the Isle of Wight in August 1860. Swiftly he set about drawing up the characters and then working out a detailed story around this germ of an idea. Published in Russia in February 1862, the novel unleashed a torrent of abuse from all sides, something Turgenev had not anticipated. The press vilified him for daring to take the radical and free thinking generation as its heroes; while the radicals saw the representatives of their generation in the novel, particularly the young doctor Bazarov, as caricatures. Bazarov, the central character, who is an idealist describes himself as a ‘nihilist,’ a term that was popularised by Turgenev with this novel. In his usage it implies not so much somebody who believes in nothing, as a person who takes none of the commonly accepted beliefs on trust, subjecting everything to analysis.
The “obvious” fathers are the two Kirsanov brothers and Bazarov’s parents. The Kirsanov brothers embody the traits of Turgenev. Like Nikolai, he too had fathered a child by a servant girl, and like Pavel, he had nurtured a lifelong passion for a woman, the celebrated Spanish singer Pauline Viardot.
The obvious children are Arkady and Bazarov, and the secondary children are Fenechka and Katya.
The young vs. old theme runs right through the book and embraces the peasant children who help Bazarov to catch frogs and peasants in general who are seen as children, and treated as such, by their masters.The complexities of the generational picture are resolved when Arkady’s father, Nikolai, marries the maid Fenechka on the same day as his actual son Arkady marries Katya.
Bazarov’s character created the controversy surrounding the novel. As one witty lady commented to the author, the real title of the novel should have been Neither Fathers nor Children.
KumKum
KumKum read a passage from Ch 7 introducing the Kirsanov brothers, Pavel and Nikolai, and a mysterious princess with whom Pavel falls in love. Joe said there is usually a strong suspicion when someone chooses a passage from an early chapter that they have not read beyond the first third of the book. But no such fear is apparent in KumKum’s case – she generally finishes the set novel a few months ahead of time! She said she found the book quite interesting. She had not known about this novel, but knew Turgenev was a great author. She had only read short stories by him. She thanked the selectors, and felt grateful it was not a thick book.
It is an old book, and the author is Russian. Unlike most Russian classics, Fathers and Children is not a thick book filled with numerous characters that may unsettle an ordinary reader's focus. The main themes of the book include: the generational divides, love, life, opportunities, the leisure of the rich, politics, and the living conditions of the poor and illiterate. Turgenev beautifully portrays all the main characters in the book, and they individually or collectively propel the story forward.
KumKum chose to read from Chapter 7, where the author skilfully depicts the characters of two brothers, Pavel Petrovich and his younger brother Nikolai Petrovich. These two brothers, along with Bazarov's parents, represent the Fathers generation, while Bazarov, Arkady, and Katya represent the Childrens generation in the book. In the passage she selected, the Petrovich brothers and Pavel's mysterious love interest, Princess R., are portrayed with great skill and insight.
Discussion
Joe exclaimed at the end of the passage, ‘Oh my goodness, this is a woman to meet!’ For she is described as a “coquette,” who “indulged enthusiastically in pleasures of every kind,” someone who “danced till she dropped,” and who “laughed and joked with young people.”
Joe noted that Kumkum usually makes fun of him – that he doesn't really read the novel carefully in detail, but just cursorily goes through it and reads fast without great attention. So he gave her a little quiz at home: “Do you know what lunar caustic is?” Joe wondered if people caught the term ‘lunar caustic’ in the novel?
KumKum said she didn't. Joe disclosed the meaning. It's something we come across in chemistry under the name of silver nitrate. It’s used as a cauterising agent in medicine for a flesh wound, but in the chemistry lab one makes its acquaintance because it leaves a dark stain if a solution of it touches the skin.
Joe
Arkady, the young son of Nikolai Kirsanov has brought Bazarov to his home. Pavel, Nikolai’s brother and uncle to Arkady, is a very traditional person, conservative in outlook. But during the novel, he evolves in his outlook and a degree of liberality descends upon him to the point where he approves of his brother marrying, rather than merely co-habiting with his serf girl as a concubine.
But Pavel can't stomach Bazarov's rejection of art, poetry and everything that famous Russians like Pushkin achieved. Bazarov rejects Romanticism as well, which was popular at that time. And he is determined to destroy all tradition. Someone will come later to build up a new reality, but that is not Bazarov’s concern. His concern is to get rid of all the muck in the mind that's around and all the illiteracy, and the old fashioned traditional concepts which encourage people to believe in nonsense.
In this formulation, Turgenev proved foresightful for that is exactly what Marxism-Leninism did a century later, namely built up all the things that were rejected, and built up on top of a new reality with the Tsars gone and a new socialist utopia to be established.
This is to be contrasted with societies who have apparently got rid of serfdom, but have never had a revolution. For example, in the United States they got rid of slavery, with the Emancipation proclamation. The Civil War was fought on the twin aims of abolishing slavery and preserving the Union of states.
That was in the 1860s, more than a century and a half ago. But the US of A never had a revolution. So the minds of people remained mired in the old ways, and the educational system and the mores remained never changed in consonance.
South Africa is another case in point. The dire inequalities of apartheid are still there, and a high degree of corruption has vitiated the dreams of Mandela and Co.
One must give credit to Bazarov that through Turgenev he had foreseen that you have to destroy and then recreate. And Bazarov was not to be concerned with the re-creating, but with destroying. Others who came later would address that.
When Joe read the novel, he was not convinced of Bazarov's nihilism. For example, Bazarov was a dedicated medical doctor, who cared for chemistry and had amassed considerable knowledge. He was quite learned, and had read all the chemical books and they are cited.
He used his medical knowledge to alleviate the distress of the poor peasants and he went about doing good among them. In fact, his sad end came about because he got infected with a cut while attending to a peasant who had typhus. And the doctor who was there didn't have this thing called lunar caustic, i.e., silver nitrate, a reagent which corrodes the skin and cuts into the skin. If you get even a spot on your skin, it will turn brown and then black. But it was used as a cauterising agent. So when you had a deep cut and something had gone into a wound, and it needed to be cauterised and removed, you used silver nitrate.
That is what was missing in the bag of the attending doctor, a needed chemical reagent she should have been carrying. That’s how Bazarov's sad end comes about.
The passage Joe read is about this clash of the generations, fathers and children; the children being represented by Bazarov and Arkady, and the fathers represented by Pavel and Nikolai Petrovich.
Pamela
Pamela apologised, saying she was called to do a Bible reading at the YWCA and couldn't say No. Joe asked her to please learn to say No, at least to Bible reading, because they could get a kappiyar (sexton) or methran (bishop) or somebody else to do it. Pamela said her name had been put on the invitation, so she had to go.
Actually, Pamela had thought of this passage because as Odintsova and Bazarov speak to each other, his nihilism is shaken up during the meeting. And at the end, what he does is to walk up and down, abruptly saying good night and squeezing her hand.
It is just painful for her. And that wouldn't have been a normal way of leaving her if Bazarov had been undisturbed. He was fighting within himself. And you could see that at this point, his nihilism under siege.
Pamela felt this was a very interesting turn in their relationship.
Even Madame Odintsova, who came through as a very strong and dominant kind of person, was rattled. What they believed in is not what they were saying. They were saying one thing, but feeling something else.
Perhaps each of us have gone through a phase in life which we might call nihilism where all our beliefs are put in question During those periods we feel everything is so meaningless. Then we become very sceptical about life.
Joe declared he actually has a kind of legacy that entitles him to nihilism, because the motto of his school, St. Xavier’s School, Calcutta, was Nihil Ultra, which means ‘Nothing Beyond’ in Latin. So nihilism could take off from Nihil Ultra. There could be nothing beyond his school in life! Not nihilism exactly, but good for a laugh.
Then think about Zakia's son who kept asking the question 'Why?' Trying to find reasons for everything. Joe said that Bazarov was true to his nihilism till the end if we look nihilism as being rationalist about everything in life. That brought a different aspect of nihilism and the opinions that ensued made the discussion quite thought-provoking.
Joe said in Bazarov’s case when his nihilism was shaken, it was not as if it was substituted by romanticism, say. Bazarov was more a rationalist than a nihilist, according to Joe. As Zakia was pointing out in the beginning, that her son wanted to find the reason of things, and why they were so. That's typically the viewpoint a rationalist takes. He doesn't say, you know, these things just happen like that. O this is fate. He tries to find the reason for things.
Perhaps one part of Bazarov was shaken. He might have felt emotions and so on that every human being feels, sorrow, sadness, loneliness, etc. But Joe didn't think he gave up his fundamental mooring of being anchored in a rational life, and therefore wanting to overthrow old traditional beliefs.
We forget now, but our next poetry reading is on romantic poets. Romanticism was a very strong movement in Russia as well, Joe said. Russia was one of the places where Romanticism caught fire and Pushkin is considered to belong to that class of poets.
Shoba
The whole situation and the people seem to be more real and somehow a little comical also, the way they describe the domestic situations there. Arkady and Bazarov arrive at Bazarov’s home, and when Arkady leans out of the carriage he sees Bazarov’s parents for the first time.
Shoba said she enjoyed the whole passage which she found lively with the endearing scene of the mother embracing Bazarov. KumKum said she liked the mother and everyone agreed. But Priya interjected that the ending to come was so sad for Bazarov. You understand how she yearns for her son. On the other hand, Bazarov shrugs off their affection, almost insensitively, said Zakia; the father is also so sweet. Thomo said the parents dote over him, suffocating him with their love. They are seeing him after three years! Bazarov does hug them, and he is surely fond of them too, but he wants to be less demonstrative in front of his friend, Arkady. Priya said he’s a nihilist and mentally therefore he’s also distanced himself from his parents, maybe. Geetha said Bazarov does not want to show his emotions. Romance and love are emotions to be avoided in Bazarov’s mind.
Thomo
Thomo has not gone into depth about what exactly the Buddha proposed on nihilism. But if you look up ‘nihilism’ within Wikipedia, that's what you get. Gautama Buddha was against attachment to objects and people, said Zakia. Perhaps because attachments ultimately lead to disappointments and sorrow. He believed in renouncing attachment.
Thomo said since he was in the midst of his N. European travels, when he decided to get a little help from Joe in choosing this passage. He was not able to finish reading the book till the day before the reading.
The passage is about Bazarov and Arkady discussing what it is to be unprincipled.
The line ends with this fine poetic imagining:
“Look,” said Arkady suddenly, “a dry maple leaf has come away and is falling to the ground; its movements are exactly like those of a butterfly. Isn’t it strange? That which is most sad and dead is like that which is most happy and alive.”
These three sentences prompted Joe to commend the passage to Thomo. The others agreed the simile was beautiful and precise.
Later Joe asked chatGPT, the computer application which provides help based on an Artificial Intelligence algorithm: What is nihilism? Who originated the philosophy of nihilism?
The answer it gave was as follows: Nihilism is a philosophical position that asserts the meaninglessness or non-existence of inherent value, purpose, or truth in the universe. Nihilism denies the existence of any objective or absolute meaning, moral values, or universal truths. It contends that life, beliefs, and actions have no inherent significance, and any attempts to find ultimate purpose or truth are ultimately futile.
The concept of nihilism has its roots in various philosophical and cultural movements, but it gained prominence in the 19th century. One of the earliest prominent figures associated with nihilism was Friedrich Heinrich Jacobi, a German philosopher who used the term in the 18th century to criticise the ideas of rationalism and enlightenment.
However, it was the Russian novelist and philosopher Ivan Turgenev who popularised the term "nihilism" in his novel "Fathers and Sons," published in 1862. The novel portrays a group of young intellectuals who reject traditional values, social norms, and religious beliefs, embracing a form of radical skepticism and nihilism.
Later, the term became more widely associated with the Russian revolutionary movement of the late 19th century, particularly with figures like Nikolay Chernyshevsky and Dmitry Pisarev, who advocated for radical political and social change based on their nihilistic views.
In the broader philosophical context, Friedrich Nietzsche is often linked to nihilism. While Nietzsche didn't embrace nihilism as a philosophy, his writings extensively explored its consequences and implications. He famously declared that "God is dead," meaning that traditional religious and moral frameworks no longer provided a coherent foundation for meaning and values in modern society. Nietzsche saw nihilism as a transitional phase that required a revaluation of values to overcome its detrimental effects on human existence.
It is essential to note that nihilism has many interpretations and variations within philosophy and literature. Some philosophers have criticized nihilism as a dangerous and destructive worldview, while others have explored it as a thought-provoking challenge to conventional beliefs and systems.
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Later Joe consulted the Nihilism entry on wikipedia, and discovered an illustration of these famous six who had contributed to the philosophy:
Priya
Geetha mentioned that she and Priya were doing successive portions the same scene. According to some readers this is the high point of the novel. Geetha thanked Joe for dovetailing her passage nicely with that of Priya.
Thomo said it's a good description of duelling, the way it is described in all these Georgian novels, with pistols as weapons of choice. Priya questioned whether duels were still a social encounter in those times. Did they exist even at this time? Yes, at this time duels were still in existence to settle points of honour.
Priya had only heard of Russian Roulette duels! She thought it was quite funny as well. Arkady had some kind of feeling for the girl Fenechka. But because she was his father's mistress or concubine, he didn't allow himself to be attracted to her.
Bazarov and Arkady’s aunt, are real characters. All of them stand out as characters but, Pavel, Priya thought was the really eccentric character.
He insists on a duel because he saw Bazarov steal a kiss from Fenechka. So this is when in the morning they are getting ready for the duel and Pavel comes in the cart I think because his driver is there. Must be a horse drawn cart.
Bazarov is a little concerned that nobody should be watching. Pavel also in his heart of hearts knows that this is such a foolish thing to do. There is something very hilarious, even stupid, about the duel. When Priya’s passage ended everyone had a good laugh.
Thomo said in normal duelling, people from the higher echelons of society would not duel with someone of a lower class. Oh, really, said Geetha?
Thomo said there was a slight departure from the norm here. Geetha wondered, if duelling was a more a European than a Russian custom? Russian is European, said Thomo. Geetha said she had probably not read enough Russian, novels.
Duelling would have stopped, by then opined Priya. Wasn’t it more during Shakespearean era, 16th century and 17th century? Incidentally Wikipedia says (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Duel) “During the 17th and 18th centuries (and earlier), duels were mostly single combats fought with swords (the rapier and later the small sword), but beginning in the late 18th century in England, duels were more commonly fought using pistols. Fencing and shooting continued to co-exist throughout the 19th century.”
Recall Pushkin himself died in a pistol duel in 1837 (depicted above).
Barbara Cartland novels feature duels; so too the novels of Georgette Heyer . There's always a duel in it, said Devika. If you read the novels written by Miss Cartland – don’t how many of you have read them, said Devika – who used to love those novels when she was younger.
It is more like in the Georgian period that they used to duel, said Thomo.
In Westerns also, there's a lot of staged gunfights, said KumKum. Oh, that is shooting from the hip, said Thomo! This is different. In Westerns there is no elaborate planning before the duel. Here there's so much forethought and planning involved.
KumKum announced that by prior discussion they had established Friday, August 25, as the date for Romantic Poets.
Geetha
But Bazarov actually agreed to the duel, though he was a nihilist or whatever, and not minded to keep the old customs and traditions; he was a decent guy. He agreed to the duel. Pavel had an adoration for Fenechka because he saw in her, the noble princess, the person he had loved earlier, who died. He saw in Fenechka that same kind of a beauty perhaps. And he did have some sort of feeling towards her.
That's why probably the kiss, a stolen kiss or the natural kiss actually Bazarov bestowed on Fenecka, his brother’s chosen one, was an insult that had to be avenged. Thomo said Pavel was obviously very fond of his brother, Nikolai. He didn't want Bazarov butting in and getting too close to Fenechka.
But for all that it is a very comical scene, said Geetha. The comedy is touched upon very lightly in this book, said Joe, but if you give it to a couple of comedians to enact, someone like Peter Sellers, they would really make this quite hilarious. Look at these two guys, both sitting on the ground in the end!
Thomo said he was reminded of Peter Sellers yesterday when listening to something going on in the US Congress. One commentator, Raskin, said this investigation into Biden's son's pornography, etc. is like an Inspector Clouseau scene.
Joe said this scene really deserves to be excerpted from the novel and enacted. It is considered a kind of high point of the book in terms of drama, but there is also this comical aspect.
And finally, the doctor in Bazarov comes out, running to the aid of his duellist and fixing up his wound. He looks at his watch chain before taking aim, can you imagine?
Thomo had a question: does anybody have an idea of the age difference between Arkady and Bazarov? Joe thought it was just age difference between a student in college and a guy who has already finished his medical studies and and has begun practising. So about five years, asked Thomo?
Maybe ten years, because Bazarov seems quite learned, quoting textbooks and all that, and has been a doctor in practice. Arkady comes out as 23 or so, and that would make Bazarov around 33.
Zakia
Arkady, eventually, in spite of his mentoring by Bazarov, retains his softness and romanticism. He just gets bowled over by Katrina. Joe said it is a very revealing passage. It shows the kind of hard-headedness you need to be a real nihilist. And as Bazarov tells Arkady, he’s a softie – the inside of him is still not divorced from all that tradition and romanticism. So Arkady will go his way, and Bazarov his own proclaimed nihilist’s way. Bazarov is taking his leave, knowing that he can no longer influence Arkady who will live his life, continuing in the tradition of his mother, father and uncle, which is what he does.
The girl Katya helps, said KumKum. Zakia agreed. Arkady is right in saying that she'll take care of him.
Geetha said Arkady was bowled over by Odintsova initially. Yes, absolutely. They had a lot of interests in common, this woman and Arkady. Zakia said they were just thrown together, because Bazarov took interest and even Odintsova liked Bazarov, and found him more interesting and intriguing. He had mystery, and she could see he was no ordinary guy. He was more mature, more on her level.
Remember, Joe said, in this novel, Odintsova is considered to be a woman who had already married, and survived as a widow after her husband’s death. She was older, therefore.
Thomo said she initially treated Arkady like a younger brother – quite instructive.
Joe said it’s a good title also. Fathers and Children or Fathers and Sons.
Zakia said she liked the line, “Flying fish can stay in the air for a certain time, but soon they must fall with a plop into the water.” So Arkady also realised that he couldn’t persevere. He will be himself eventually. He will not be able to go by the norm of nihilism.
Zakia liked the last line when Bazarov replies in answer to Arkady’s asking him whether he has other words to bid him farewell. “I have other words. Only I won't say them because it's romanticism. It means going all syrupy.”
Devika
Bazarov, the main character, is portrayed so well that one is quite attracted to him. He reminded Devika of the heroes from the many Georgette Heyer books that she’d read. His death at the end is tragic. He who initially never confesses his love for Madame Odintsova, finally does so when he contracts typhus, and on his deathbed, and sends for her. She arrives in time to hear Bazarov tell her how beautiful she is. This shows that there is a softness in the man behind his dispassionate exterior, and it belies his nihilistic pretensions.
Joe, noticed that Devika read in a very low voice, not in her usual sprightly manner, as though she also felt affected by the pathos in the ending of the novel. KumKum agreed it was a vary sad ending.
Devika said she didn’t like reading sad books, she looked for happy endings. In life, as it is, every day you're worried about something, and possibly some friend or family member coming to grief. So much is happening, and this past week really brought her down because she lost a friend. Not only Doctor Rajendran, but she lost another friend also. He was a Kerala Ranji trophy captain, called Jayaram. He played one match for India. Devika was sad from attending funerals.
Dr Rajendran would have been 70 years in November, through he didn’t look it.
Thomo said he also lost his cousin and went up to Basel to attend the viewing – there was no funeral, he was cremated the next day. The family was happy Thomo and Geetha could attend during his Europe travels.
Thomo’s cousin had the most fabulous collection of ‘fore-edge’ books and antiques.
The Readings
KumKum – Ch 7: Introducing the Kirsanov brothers, Pavel and Nikolai, and a mysterious princess with whom Pavel falls in love
PAVEL PETROVICH KIRSANOV WAS, like his younger brother Nikolai, first educated at home, then in the Corps of Pages.* From childhood he was remarkable for his good looks; in addition he was confident, somewhat sarcastic and somehow amusingly bilious. He could not fail to please. As soon as he became an officer he began to be seen everywhere. He indulged himself and was fêted by others, even played the fool and put on airs, but this, too, suited him. Women were besotted with him while men called him a dandy and secretly envied him. He lived, as has already been said, in the same flat as his brother, whom he sincerely loved, although he did not resemble him in any way. Nikolai Petrovich had a slight limp, fine, pleasant, but somewhat sad features, small black eyes and soft, sparse hair. He was keen on doing nothing, but was also a keen reader, and was afraid of society. Pavel Petrovich did not spend a single evening at home and was renowned for his boldness and agility (he had just about made gymnastics fashionable among society youth) and had read in all five or six French novels. By the age of twenty-eight he was a captain; a glittering career awaited him. Suddenly, everything changed.
At that time a woman used to appear occasionally in Petersburg society who has not been forgotten even today – Princess R. She had a well-bred, decent, but slightly stupid husband and no children. She would suddenly go abroad then equally suddenly return to Russia and generally led a strange sort of life. She had the reputation of being a frivolous coquette, indulged enthusiastically in pleasures of every kind, danced till she dropped, laughed and joked with young people, whom she received before dinner in the semi-gloom of her drawing room; at night, however, she would weep and pray and not find solace anywhere, and would often pace the room till the break of day, wringing her hands in anguish; or would sit, pale and cold, over her psalter. Day would come and she would again be transformed into a society lady, would again go out visiting, laugh, chatter and seemingly throw herself in the way of anything that might afford her the slightest pleasure. She had an astonishing figure; her long plait, gold in colour and as heavy as gold, fell to below her knees, but no one would have called her a beauty. The only pleasing feature about her face was her eyes, and even then it was not the eyes themselves, which were small and grey, but the look in them, an enigmatic look, quick and profound, careless to the point of recklessness and contemplative to the point of despondency.
Joe – Ch 10: Clash of generations and -isms
“Aristocratism, liberalism, progress, principles,” Bazarov was saying meanwhile, “it makes you think – what a lot of foreign – and useless – words! A Russian wouldn’t use them if you paid him.”
“Then what does he need, in your opinion? To listen to you, we are outside humanity, outside its laws. Begging your pardon, but the logic of history demands…”
“What use is such logic to us? We can get by without that, too.”
“In what way?”
“Just that: I hope you do not need logic in order to put a piece of bread into your mouth when you are hungry. What need have we of such abstractions!”
Pavel Petrovich threw up his hands.
“After that I don’t understand you. You’re insulting the Russian people. I don’t understand how you can fail to recognize principles, rules. What is the basis of your conduct?”
“I’ve already told you, Uncle, that we do not recognize any authorities,” Arkady interjected.
“The basis of our conduct is whatever we recognize as useful,” said Bazarov. “At the present time the most useful thing is rejection – and we reject.”
“Everything?”
“Everything.”
“What? Not only art, poetry… but also… I’m afraid to say it.”
“Everything,” Bazarov repeated with ineffable calmness.
Pavel Petrovich stared at him. He had not expected this, but Arkady blushed with pleasure.
“However, allow me,” Nikolai Petrovich began. “You reject everything or, to put it more precisely, you destroy everything… But one must build as well, mustn’t one?”
“That’s none of our business… First of all we must clear the ground.”
“The contemporary condition of the people requires it,” Arkady added importantly. “We must meet these requirements; we do not have the right to indulge in the satisfaction of personal egoism.”
It was clear that this last phrase did not please Bazarov; it was redolent of philosophy, that is to say, of romanticism, since Bazarov also referred to philosophy as romanticism. However, he did not think it necessary to rebut his young pupil.
“No! No!” exclaimed Pavel Petrovich with sudden fervour. “I cannot believe that gentlemen like you know the Russian people, that you represent their requirements and aspirations! No, the Russian people are not what you imagine them to be. They hold their traditions sacred, they are patriarchal, they cannot live without faith…”
“I won’t argue against that,” Bazarov interrupted. “I am even prepared to agree that on this matter you are correct.”
“And if I’m correct…”
“Nevertheless it proves nothing.”
“Proves precisely nothing,” repeated Arkady with the assurance of a chess player who has foreseen a clearly dangerous move by his opponent and is therefore not fazed by it.
“What do you mean, ‘proves nothing’?” muttered Pavel Petrovich in astonishment. “So you’re going against your own people?”
“What if I am?” exclaimed Bazarov. “The people think that when it thunders it’s the prophet Elijah riding across the sky in his chariot. Well? Am I to agree with that? Yet they are Russian but am I not Russian too?”
“No, you’re no Russian, after everything you’ve said. I cannot recognize you as a Russian.”
“My grandfather tilled the soil,” replied Bazarov with haughty pride. “Ask any of our peasants in whom – in me or in you – they more readily recognize a compatriot. You can’t even talk to them.”
“While you talk to them and, at the same time, despise them.”
“Well, if they deserve contempt? You criticize the position I take, but who told you that I arrived at it by accident, that it wasn’t caused by the same popular spirit in whose name you campaign?”
“What? A fat lot of use nihilists are.”
“Whether they are or not, that’s not for us to decide. For even you consider that you have your uses.”
“Gentlemen, gentlemen, please! No personalities!” exclaimed Nikolai Petrovich, rising from his chair.
Pavel Petrovich smiled, placed his hand on his brother’s shoulders and forced him to sit down again.
Pamela – Ch 17: Odintsova engages Bazarov and wants to know more about him
“When do you intend to travel?” she began. “What about your promise?”
Bazarov gave a start.
“What promise, madam?”
“You’ve forgotten? You wanted to give me some chemistry lessons.”
“What can I do, madam? My father is expecting me; I can’t delay any longer. However, you can read Pelouse et Frémy, Notions générales de chimie.* It’s a good book, well written. You’ll find everything you need in it.”
“But remember, you assured me that a book is no substitute for… I’ve forgotten how you put it, but you know what I mean… Do you remember?”
“What can I do, madam?” Bazarov repeated.
“Why go?” said Odintsova, lowering her voice. He glanced at her. She had thrown her head back on to the armchair and crossed her arms, bare to the elbow, on her bosom. She seemed paler by the light of the solitary lamp, which was covered with a perforated shade. A capacious white dress covered her completely with its soft folds; the tips of her feet, which were also crossed, were barely visible.
“Why stay?” Bazarov replied. Odintsova turned her head slightly.
“How do you mean ‘why’? Do you feel unhappy in my house? Or do you think you won’t be missed here?”
“I’m convinced of that.”
Odintsova fell silent.
“You’re wrong to think that. Anyway, I don’t believe you. You can’t be serious.” Bazarov continued to sit motionless. “Yevgeny Vasilyevich, why don’t you say anything?”
“What have I to say to you? It’s not worth missing people in general, and me in particular.”
“Why’s that?”
“I’m a positive man, but uninteresting. I’m no good at talking.”
“You’re fishing for compliments, Yevgeny Vasilyevich.”
“That’s not my way. Surely you know that the finer things of life, the things which you so value, are beyond me.”
Odintsova bit the corner of her handkerchief.
“Think what you like, but I shall be bored when you’ve gone.”
“Arkady will stay here,” observed Bazarov.
Odintsova gave a slight shrug of her shoulders.
“I shall be bored,” she repeated.
“Really? At all events you won’t be bored for long.”
“Why do you suppose that?”
“Because you yourself told me that you’re only bored when your orderly life is disrupted. You’ve arranged your life so impeccably correctly that there can be no place in it for either boredom or regret… or for any strong emotions.”
“And you consider that I am impeccable, that is to say that I have organized my life so correctly?”
“Exactly! For example, in a few minutes’ time it’ll be ten o’clock and I already know in advance that you will dismiss me from your presence.”
“No, I won’t, Yevgeny Vasilyevich. You can stay. Open that window… it feels somewhat stuffy in here.”
Bazarov stood up and gave the window a push. It burst open with a jolt. He had not expected that it would open so easily and, in addition, his hands were shaking. A dark, soft night, with an almost black sky, gently rustling trees and the fresh smell of pure, untrammelled air, looked into the room.
“Lower the blind and sit down,” said Odintsova. “I want to look at you before you go… Tell me something about yourself; you never talk about yourself.”
“I try to discuss useful subjects with you, Anna Sergeyevna.”
“You’re very modest… But I would like to find out something about you, about your father, for whom you are abandoning us.”
Shoba – Ch 20: Bazarov comes home to his father Vassily and mother Arina, and introduces Arkady
BAZAROV LEANT OUT OF THE TARANTASS, and Arkady put his head out behind his friend’s back and saw, on the porch of the little manor house, a tall, gaunt man with dishevelled hair and a thin aquiline nose, dressed in an old, unbuttoned, military jacket. He was standing, legs apart, smoking a long pipe and screwing his eyes up against the sun.
The horses halted.
“At last he’s come,” said Bazarov’s father, continuing to smoke all the while, although the chibouk was shaking in his hand. “Come on then, out you get, out you get. Let me give you a hug.”
He began to embrace his son. “Yevgeny, Yevgeny, my dear,” came a trembling female voice. The door burst open and on the threshold appeared a dumpy little old woman in a white cap and a short multicoloured blouse. She gasped, stumbled, and would probably have fallen had not Bazarov supported her. Her chubby arms instantly encircled his neck, she pressed her head to his chest and silence fell. All that could be heard was her intermittent sobbing.
Old man Bazarov was breathing deeply and screwing his eyes up even more.
“Come on, that’s enough, that’s enough, Arina. Stop it,” he said, exchanging glances with Arkady, who was standing motionless by the tarantass, while the peasant on the box had even turned away. “We don’t want that at all. Please do stop.”
“Oh, Vasily Ivanovich,” murmured the old woman. “How long is it since I saw my darling boy Yevgeny?” And without unclasping her arms, she averted her face, wet with tears and crumpled with emotion, from Bazarov, looked at him with eyes at once blissful and comical, and fell on his neck.
“Well, yes, of course, this is all in the nature of things,” said Vasily Ivanovich, “but it’s best to go indoors. Here’s a guest who’s come with Yevgeny. I apologize,” he said, turning to Arkady and shuffling his foot slightly. “You understand – female weakness, that, and a mother’s heart.”
His lips and eyebrows twitched and his chin trembled… but he clearly wanted to control himself and to appear almost indifferent. Arkady bowed.
“Yes, indeed. Let’s go, Mother,” said Bazarov and conducted the old woman, now utterly overcome, into the house. Seating her in a comfortable armchair, he quickly embraced his father once again and introduced Arkady to him.
Thomo – Ch 21: Bazarov and Arkady discuss being unprincipled
“You’re in a melancholy mood today, Yevgeny.”
“Really? I must have caught the sun and shouldn’t have eaten so many raspberries.”
“In that case it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have a snooze,” observed Arkady.
“As you like – but don’t look at me. Everyone’s face looks stupid when they’re asleep.”
“Isn’t it a matter of indifference to you what people think of you?”
“I don’t know what to say to you. A real man should not worry about that. A real man is one about whom there is no need to think, but who must be either obeyed or hated.”
“Strange, I don’t hate anyone,” said Arkady after some thought.
“And I hate so many people. You’re a sensitive soul, a softie; who could you find to hate? You’re timid and have little self-reliance.”
“And you?” Arkady interrupted. “Are you self-reliant? Do you have a high opinion of yourself?”
Bazarov was silent.
“When I meet someone who does not yield to me,” he said, slowly and deliberately, “then I’ll change my opinion about myself. Hate! Look, today, for example, as we passed the house of our village elder Filipp – it’s a splendid white house – you said that Russia would achieve perfection when every last peasant had such a dwelling and that we all ought to assist this process. But I conceived a hatred for this last peasant, Filipp or Sidor, for whom I’ve got to move heaven and earth and who won’t even say thanks for it… But why do I need his thanks? All right, he’ll get to live in a white house and I’ll be pushing up daisies, but so what?”
“That’ll do, Yevgeny. To listen to you today, one would be forced to agree with those who reproach us for lack of principles.”
“You talk like your uncle. We have no principles at all – you haven’t yet grasped that. But there are sensations – everything depends on them.”
“How so?”
“Like this. Take me, for instance. I adhere to the negative tendency – by dint of my sensations. I enjoy negating, my brain is suited to it and basta. Why do I like chemistry? Why do you like apples? Also by dint of your sensations. It’s all the same thing. People never penetrate deeper than that. Not everyone will tell you this and another time even I won’t tell you it.”
“What are you saying? Is even honour a sensation?”
“And how!”
“Yevgeny—” began Arkady in a sorrowful voice.
“What? Is this not to your taste?” Bazarov interrupted. “No, brother. Once you’ve decided to mow down everything, go the whole hog and mow your own feet. However, we’ve done enough philosophizing. ‘Nature induces the silence of sleep’, as Pushkin said.”
“He never said anything of the sort,” said Arkady.*
“All right, so he didn’t, but he could have, and should have, in his capacity as a poet. Incidentally, he must have seen service as a soldier.”
“Pushkin was never a soldier.”
“You’re not serious? On every page he writes ‘To battle, to battle, for the honour of Russia.’”
“What’s all this you’re making up? It’s slander when all’s said and done, isn’t it?”
“Slander? What does that matter? What a word you’ve dreamt up to frighten me with. However much you slander a man, in reality he deserves twenty times worse.”
“We’d do better to get some sleep,” said Arkady in annoyance.
“With the greatest pleasure,” Bazarov replied.
But neither of them was able to sleep. A feeling of something akin to enmity gripped the hearts of both young men. After some five minutes they opened their eyes and looked at each other in silence.
Priya – Ch 24: Duel between Pavel Kirsanov and Bazarov over a stolen kiss
“There is no one to be seen and no one will disturb us. Shall we begin?”
“Let’s begin.”
“I take it you do not require any further explanations.”
“No.”
“Do you wish to load them yourself?” asked Pavel Petrovich, taking the pistols out of the box.
“No, you load and I’ll measure out the paces. I’ve got longer legs,” Bazarov added with a wry smile. “One, two, three…”
“Yevgeny Vasilyevich,” Pyotr muttered with difficulty (he was shivering as if he had a fever), “you do as you like. I’m going.”
“Four… five… You go, brother, you go. You can even go and stand behind a tree and block your ears, only don’t open your eyes. But if anyone falls, run and pick them up. Six… seven… eight…” Bazarov halted. “Is that enough?” he said, turning to Pavel Petrovich. “Or should I add another two paces?”
“As you like,” said Pavel Petrovich, loading a second bullet.
“All right, let’s add a couple of paces.” Bazarov drew a line in the earth with the toe of his boot. “Here’s the barrier. Incidentally, by how many paces should each of us move back from the barrier? That’s also an important question. We didn’t discuss that yesterday.”
“I suggest ten,” replied Pavel Petrovich, handing Bazarov two pistols. “Be so good as to choose.”
“I will. But you will agree, Pavel Petrovich, that our duel is unusual to the point of absurdity. Just look at the physiognomy of our second.”
“You always want to joke,” answered Pavel Petrovich. “I don’t deny the strangeness of our duel, but I consider it my duty to warn you that I intend to fight seriously. À bon entendeur, salut.”*
“Oh, I don’t doubt that we’ve decided to destroy one another, but why not laugh, why not combine utile dulci?* There we are: you speak French to me and I reply in Latin.”
“I shall fight seriously,” Pavel Petrovich repeated, and moved away to his position. For his part Bazarov counted off ten paces from the barrier and halted.
“Are you ready?” Pavel Petrovich asked.
“Completely.”
“Then we can commence.” Bazarov moved forwards calmly as Pavel Petrovich advanced towards him with his left hand in his pocket, gradually raising the muzzle of his pistol. “He’s aiming straight at my nose,” Bazarov thought. “How intently he is screwing up his eyes, the bandit! However, this is a most unpleasant sensation. I’ll fix my eyes on his watch-chain…” Something fizzed past his ear and at that moment a shot rang out. “I heard it, so it’s all right,” flashed through his mind. He took another step and, without taking aim, squeezed the trigger.
Pavel Petrovich shuddered slightly and clutched his thigh. Blood streamed over his white trousers.
Bazarov threw his pistol aside and went up to his opponent.
“Are you wounded?” he said.
“You had the right to summon me up to the barrier,” said Pavel Petrovich. “This is nothing. The rules say that each of us has one shot left.”
“Well, I’m sorry. We’ll leave that to another time,” Bazarov replied, putting his arm round Pavel Petrovich, who was beginning to turn pale. “Now I’m no longer a duellist but a doctor and before anything else I must examine your wound. Pyotr, come here! Pyotr, where are you hiding?”
“This is all nonsense… I don’t need anyone’s help,” said Pavel Petrovich falteringly. “And… I must… again.” He tried to stroke his moustache but his arm grew weak, his eyes rolled and he lost consciousness.
Geetha – Ch 24: The duel, continued
“Here’s something new! He’s fainted! Why would that be?” Bazarov exclaimed involuntarily, lowering Pavel Petrovich on to the grass. “Let’s see what we’ve got here.” He took out a handkerchief, wiped away the blood and felt round the wound. “The bone’s not broken,” he muttered through his teeth. “The bullet hasn’t gone in deep. Only the vastus externus muscle has been touched. He’ll be dancing in three weeks! But to faint! Oh, I’ve had enough of these neurotic souls. You can see how delicate his skin is.”
“Has he been killed, sir?” Pyotr’s quavering voice came from behind his back.
Bazarov looked round.
“Go and get some water quickly, friend, and he’ll outlive you and me yet.”
But the servant from the advanced generation did not appear to understand his words and did not move from the spot. Pavel Petrovich slowly opened his eyes. “He’s dying,” whispered Pyotr and began to cross himself.
“You’re right. What a stupid physiognomy,” said the wounded gentleman with a forced smile.
“Go and get some water, dammit,” Bazarov shouted.
“That’s not necessary. It was a temporary vertige.* Help me sit up – that’s it. This scratch just needs dressing with something and I’ll go home on foot. If I can’t, you can send the droshky for me. With your permission, the duel will not be renewed. You have acted honourably… today, today, mark you.”
“There’s no point in recalling the past,” Bazarov retorted, “and as for the future, it’s not worth doing your head in over that, because I intend to slip away forthwith. Let me bandage your leg. Your wound is not dangerous, but all the same it’s best to staunch the blood. But first I must revive this creature.”
Bazarov shook Pyotr by the collar and sent him to get the droshky.
“Mind you don’t frighten my brother,” Pavel Petrovich said to him. “Don’t take it into your head to report this.”
Pyotr hurried off. While he ran to get the droshky the two antagonists sat on the ground and said nothing. Pavel Petrovich tried to avoid looking at Bazarov; he still did not want to make his peace with him. He was ashamed of his arrogance, of his failure, was ashamed of the whole business, although he felt that it could not have ended more satisfactorily. “At least he won’t be hanging around here,” he consoled himself. “Thanks be for that.”
The silence continued, heavy and awkward. Both men felt ill at ease. Each was aware that the other understood him. Between friends such awareness is pleasant; between enemies it is highly unpleasant, especially when it is impossible either to have the matter out, or to part.
Zakia Ch 26: Bazarov takes leave of Odintsova; and tells Arkady that Katerina will make him a good wife
“Young people of today have become very cunning,” remarked Bazarov, and also begun to laugh. “Farewell,” he said after a short silence. “I wish this matter to be finished, but I’ll rejoice from a distance.”
Odintsova quickly turned to him.
“You’re really leaving? Why can you not stay now? Stay… it’s nice talking to you… it’s like walking along the edge of a precipice. At first it’s intimidating, and then from somewhere you take boldness. Stay.”
“Thank you for the suggestion, Anna Sergeyevna, and for your flattering opinion of my conversational talents. But I find that I’ve already moved for too long in a sphere that is alien to me. Flying fish can stay in the air for a certain time, but soon they must fall with a plop into the water; allow me too to flop down into my element.”
Odintsova looked at Bazarov. A bitter smile tugged at his pale face. “This man loves me!” she thought; she felt sorry for him and stretched out a concerned hand to him.
But he had understood her.
“No!” he said, and stepped back a pace. “I am a poor man, but I have still not hitherto accepted alms. Goodbye, and good health to you.”
“I am convinced that this is not the last time we shall see each other,” said Anna Sergeyevna with an involuntary movement.
“Anything can happen,” answered Bazarov with a bow, and left.
“So you’ve decided to make a nest for yourself?” he said to Arkady that same day, squatting as he packed his case. “Well it’s a fine thing to do. Only there was no reason to be cunning. I expected you to take a quite different decision. Or, perhaps, it took you yourself aback?”
“I did not expect anything like this when we separated,” answered Arkady. “But then aren’t you the one being cunning, saying: ‘it’s a fine thing to do’, as if I’m not familiar with your opinions about marriage?”
“Hey, my dear friend,” said Bazarov. “The things you say! You can see what I’m doing: it turns out there is an empty space in the case, and I am putting hay into it; that’s how it is with our lives: it doesn’t matter what you stuff in, as long as there’s no emptiness. Don’t be offended please; you probably remember what my opinion was of Katerina Sergeyevna. Other young ladies only pass for clever because they can sigh cleverly, but yours will stand up for herself, so much so that she’ll hold you in the palm of her hand; well, that’s as it should be.” He slammed shut the lid of the case and stood up. “But now I’m repeating it to you in parting… because there’s no point in deceiving ourselves: we are parting for ever and you feel it yourself… you’ve acted sensibly; you’re not made for our bitter, sour-tasting, solitary life. You do not have the daring or the fury, but you do have youthful boldness and youthful fervour; that’s no good for our cause. Your brother noblemen can get no further than high-born humbleness or high-born indignation, and that’s all rubbish. For example, you don’t fight – and yet you imagine yourselves fine fellows – but we want to fight. What of it? Our dust will eat away at your eyes, our dirt will stain you, yes, but you’ve not grown to our stature, you can’t help admiring yourselves, you take pleasure in scolding yourselves, but to us this is boring. Give us others! We need others to smash! You’re a splendid fellow but nevertheless you are a soft, liberal gentleman. Et voilà tout, as my father would say.”
“You are saying goodbye to me for ever, Yevgeny,” said Arkady sadly, “and you do not have any other words for me?”
Bazarov scratched the back of his head.
“I have, Arkady, I have other words, only I won’t say them because it’s romanticism; it means going all syrupy.
Devika – Ch 27: Odintsova visits the dying Bazarov
“Well, thank you,” repeated Bazarov. “This is right royally done. They say that the tsars also visit the dying.”
“Yevgeny Vasilyevich, I hope—”
“Oh, Anna Sergeyevna, let’s start speaking the truth. It’s the end for me. I’ve fallen under a wheel. And it turns out, there was no point in thinking about the future. Death might be an old joke, but for each of us it is new. Up to this point I haven’t been afraid… unconsciousness will come, and then fuit!*” (He waved his hands feebly.) “Well, what I’ve got to say to you is… That I loved you? It did not have any point before, but now even less so. Love’s just a form of being, and now my own form is already disintegrating. I’d rather say how splendid you are! And now you stand there, so beautiful…”
Anna Sergeyevna shuddered involuntarily.
“Never mind, don’t worry yourself… sit down over there… Don’t come near me: after all my illness is infectious.”
Anna Sergeyevna quickly crossed the room and sat down on an armchair by the sofa on which Bazarov lay.
“Such magnanimity,” he whispered. “Oh, how close you are, and how young, fresh, clean… in this vile room… Well, farewell! Live a long life, that’s the best plan, and enjoy it while there’s time. You can see what an ugly spectacle I am: a worm which has been half-crushed, but is still showing off. And after all I also thought that I would do a lot, and not die. How could I possibly die? I had a task and, after all, I’m a giant! But now the task of the giant consists entirely in dying decently, although no one cares less about that… All the same, I won’t start wagging my tail.”
Bazarov fell silent, and began feeling with his hand for his glass. Without taking off her gloves, Anna Sergeyevna gave him something to drink, breathing fearfully.
“You will forget me,” he began again. “The dead are not friends of the living. My father will say to you just what a man Russia is losing… This is nonsense, but don’t disillusion the old man. Don’t deny the child his comfort… you know. And be kind to my mother. After all, you will not find such people as them in your big world with a torch in broad daylight… I’m needed by Russia… No, obviously I am not needed. And who is needed? The shoemaker is needed, the tailor is needed, the butcher… sells meat… the butcher… stop, I’m losing my way. There’s a forest here…”
Bazarov raised his hand to his forehead. Anna Sergeyevna bent over him.
“Yevgeny Vasilyevich, I am here…”
He at once took her hand and raised himself up.
“Farewell,” he said with sudden strength, and his eyes shone with a final brilliance.
“Farewell… listen… after all, I did not kiss you then… Blow on the dying lamp, and let it be extinguished…”
Anna Sergeyevna put her lips to his forehead.
“And that’s enough!” he said and lowered himself to the pillow. “Now… darkness…”
Anna Sergeyevna left quietly.
“Well?” Vasily Ivanovich asked her in a whisper.
“He has gone to sleep,” she answered scarcely audibly.
Bazarov was fated not to wake up again. Towards evening he fell into complete unconsciousness, and the next day he died. Father Alexei conducted the religious rites over him. When the last rites were being administered, when the sacred oil touched his chest, one of his eyes opened, and it seemed that at the sight of the priest in his vestments, the smoke from the censer and the candles in front of the icon, something like a shudder of horror was momentarily reflected in his lifeless face. When finally he emitted his last breath and a universal weeping and wailing began in the house, Vasily Ivanovich was seized by a sudden frenzy. “I said I’d repudiate,” he cried out with a burning twisted face, shaking his fist in the air, as if he were threatening someone, “I repudiate, I repudiate!” But Arina Vlasyevna, overcome by tears, hung on his neck, and both together they fell down. “So,” related Anfisushka later in the servant’s quarters, “they hung their heads side by side, like little lambs at midday…”
Good job! So much more to enjoy from a blog like this one.
ReplyDeleteOnce again I thank Zakia-Shoba team for selecting the book for us. Zakia, enjoyed your introduction to the book and the author. Thanks to your son who gifted the book to you.
And, thank you, Joe, for all the research you did on the book, the author, and painstakingly putting down all that we said during the Session on July 21st.