A Survey of Russian Literature, with Selections

has already been stated-the writers of the '40's: Grigoróvitch, Gontcharóff, Turgéneff, Ostróvsky, Nekrásoff, Dostoévsky, Count L. N. Tolstóy, and many ot

erature of the day was engaged in preaching a crusade against slumberous inactivity, inertia, and stagnation. The special point about Gontcharóff's contribution to this crusade against the order of things, and in favor of progress, was that no one could regard "Oblómoff" from the objective point of view. Every one was compelled to treat it subjectively, apply the type of the hero to his own case, and admit that in greater or less degree he possessed some of Oblómoff's characteristics. In this romance the gift of generalization reached its highest point. Oblómoff not only represented the type of the landed proprietor, as developed by the institution of serfdom, but the racial type, which comprised the traits common to Russians in general, without regard to their social rank, class, or vocation. In fact, so typical was this character that it furnished a new word to the language, "oblómovshtchina,"-the state of being like Oblómoff. Oblómoff carried the national indolence-"khalátnost," or dressing-gown laziness, the Russians call it in general-to such a degree that he not only was unable to do anything, but he was

f his early short stories, "Antón Goremyka" (wretched fellow) is the best. In it he is free from the reproach which was leveled at his later and more ambitious long stories, "The Emigrants" and "The Fishermen." In the latter, for the sake of lengthening the tale, and of enlisting interest by making it conform to the general taste of readers, he made the interest center on a love-story, in which

his mother's serfs, a man passionately fond of reading, and a great admirer of Kheraskóff, was the first to initiate the boy into Russian literature, with "The Rossiad." In 1834 Turgéneff entered the Moscow University, but soon went to St. Petersburg, and there completed his course in the philological department. Before he graduated, however, he had begun to write, and even to publish his literary efforts. After spending two years in Berlin, to finish his studies, he returned to Moscow, in 1841, and there made acquaintance with the Slavyanophils-the Aksákoffs, Khomyakóff (a military man, chiefly known by his theological writings), and others, the leaders of the new cult. But Turgéneff, thoroughly imbued with western ideas, did not embrace it. He entered the government se

s directed to the imperfections of Russian life. To these were added, by the writers of the '40's, a social-moral movement, the fermentation of ideas, which is visible in the educated classes of Russian society in the '40's and '50's. As this movement was effected under the influence of the French literature of the '30's and '40's, of which Victor Hugo and Georges Sand were the leading exponents (whose ideas were expressed under the form of romanticism), these writers exercised

(who is depicted in the novel "First Love"), was much younger than his wife, whom he did not love, having married her for her money. His mother's portrait is to be found in "Púnin and Babúrin." Extremely unhappy in her childhood and youth, when she got the chance at last she became a pitiless despot, greedy of power, and indulged the caprices and fantastic freaks suggested by her shattered nerves upon her family, the house-servants, and the serfs. It is but natural that from such an experience as this Turgéneff should have cherished, from the time of his miserable childhood (his disagreements with his mother later in life are matters of record also), impressions which made of him the

immortalize him. In 1860 he published an article entitled "Hamlet and Don Quixote," which throws a brilliant light upon the characters of all his types, and upon their inward springs of action. And at last, in 1862, came his famous "Fathers and Children." The key to the comprehension of his works is contained in his "Hamlet and Don Quixote." His idea is that in these two types are incarnated all the fundamental, contrasting peculiarities of the human race-both poles of the axis upon which it revolves-and that all people belong, more or less, to one of these two types; that every one of us inclines to be either a Hamlet or a Don Quixote. "It is true," he adds, "that in our day the Hamlets have become far more numerous than the Don Quixotes, but the Don Quixotes have not died out, nevertheless." Such is his hero "Rúdin," that central type of the men of the '40's-a man whose whole vocation consists in the dissemination of enlightening ideas, but who, at the same time, exhibits the most complete incapacity in all his attempts to realize those ideas in practice, and scandalous pusillanimity when there is a ques

, "is directed against the nobility as the leading class." Nevertheless, the book raised a tremendous storm. His mistake lay in not recognizing in the new type of men depicted under the character of Bazároff enthusiasts endowed with all the merits and defects of people of that sort; but on the contrary, they impressed him as skeptics, re

y of central Russia. Not a single harsh or coarse line is to be found in Turgéneff's work; not a single glaring hue. The objects depicted do not immediately start forth before you, in full proportions, but are gradually depicted in a mass of small details with all the most delicate shades. Turgéneff is most renowned artistically for the landscapes which are scattered through his works, and principally portray the nature of his native locality, central Russia. Equally famous, and executed with no less mastery and art, are his portrayal and analysis of the various vicissitudes of the tender passion, and in this respect, he was

f his childhood, and the disintegrating influence of the reaction of the '50's, when the nation's hopes of various reforms seemed to have been blighted, and ending with a whole mass of experiences of life and the literary failures and annoyances which he un

otes of a Sportsman," is selected c

e W

y thickened. I slapped the reins on the horse's back, descended into a ravine, crossed a dry brook, all overgrown with scrub-willows, ascended the hill, and drove into the forest. The road in front of me wound along among thick clumps of hazel-bushes, and was already inundated with gloom; I advanced with difficulty. My gig jolted over the firm roots of the centenarian oaks and lindens, which incessantly intersected the long, deep ruts-the traces of cart-wheels; my horse began to stumble. A strong wind suddenly began to drone up above, the trees grew turbulent, big drops of rain clatte

?" asked a s

e you y

foreste

ioned

you are on yo

you see wh

lluminated the forester from head to foot; a short, crashing peal of thunder

ver very soon," con

s to be

my cottage if you lik

ay

take you

long time. At last my guide came to a halt. "Here we are at home, master," he said, in a calm voice. A wicket gate squeaked, several puppies began to bark all together. I raised my head, and by the glare of the lightning, I descried a tiny hut, in the center of a spacious yard, surrounded with wattled hedge. From one tiny window a small light cast a dull gleam. The fo

id to her:-"and I will put y

arreled gun; in the corner lay scattered a heap of rags; two large pots stood beside the oven. A pine-knot was burning on the table, sputtering mournfully, and on the point of dying out. Exactly in the middle of the room hung a cradle, suspended from the end of a long pole. The little maid extinguished the

hou art alone here?" I

ttered, almo

he forester

she whi

hold, bending his head as he did so. He picked up the lante

tomed to a pine-knot," he s

eath his dripping shirt, which was open on the breast, his mighty muscles stood prominently forth. A curly black beard covered half of his surly and manly fac

im, and ask

replied-"but my nick

e you T

h a master of his business. "He gives no one a chance to carry off trusses of brushwood, no matter what the hour may be; even at midnight, he drops down like snow on one's head, and you need not think of offering resistance-he's as strong and as craft

boring peasants expressed

've heard of you, brother. They say th

surlily; "it is not right to ea

rdle, sat down on the floor,

o housewife?

, and brandished

dead, ap

ead," he added,

e raised his eyes

waked up and began to cry; the girl went to the cradle. "There, give it to him," said The Wolf, thrusting into her hand a soiled

"you cannot eat our bread; a

not hu

samovár for you, only I have no tea..

led smoke oppressed my breathing. The little girl did not stir from her place, and did not raise her eyes, from time to time she gav

thy name?

rooping her sad litt

d, and seated himse

marked, after a brief pause; "if you comm

ked up the gun, and

hat for?"

e felling a tree at the Hare's Ravine,"

e heard f

from t

y was visible; here and there, little stars twinkled through the thin, swiftly flying clouds. The outlines of the trees, besprinkled with rain and fluttered by the wind, were beginning to stan

t I shall probably let them slip this way," he added aloud-"I'll go with you, shall I?"-"All right,"

he muttered between his teeth. "You hear? do you hear?" "But where?" The Wolf shrugged his shoulders. We decended into a ravine, the wind died down for an instant

ed it," mutt

orester whispered to me, bent over, and raising his gun aloft, vanished among the bushes. I began to listen with strained intentness. Athwart th

oise, and ran to the scene of battle, stumbling at every step. Beside the felled tree on the earth the forester was moving about: he held the thief beneath him, and was engaged in tying the man's hands behind his back with his girdle. I stepped up. The Wolf rose, and set him on hi

ed in The Wolf's ear. "

ith his left hand; with his right he held the thief by th

soon was pouring in torrents. With difficulty we made our way to the cottage. The Wolf turned the captured nag loose in the yard, led the peasant into the house, loosened the knot of th

forester. "We must wait until it st

ank

account of your grace," he went on, pointing

on't touch him," I

s able to scrutinize his dissipated, wrinkled face, his pendant, yellow eyebrows, his thin limbs.... The little girl lay down on the floor, at his very feet, and fell asleep again. The W

nt suddenly, in a dull, cracked

do you

me

f made

nger drove me to

er, grimly. "You're all alike in

"The head clerk ... we're ruined,

No one oug

destroy me. Thy master, as thou kn

g all over as though racked with fever. He kept

me go! I will pay, that I will, by God. By God, hunger drove me to it ... the chil

e, don't go

ere's my horse, take it if you choose

inate, I shall be held responsible. And it i

Kúzmitch, poverty, that's

now

let m

sit still or I'll give it to you, don't

wned, and laid his head on the table. The rain h

e. "Well, go ahead, devour! Go ahead, oppress! Go ahead," he began, screwing up his eyes, and droppi

ster tur

to thee, Asiatic blo

into thy head to curse!" said the foreste

money, accursed soul-murdere

.. I'll give

ll me-it comes to the same thing; whether with hunger or thus, it makes no difference. Deuce

alf-rose t

"Kill, go ahead, kill...." (The little girl sprang up fr

red the forester, and adv

" I shouted-"let him alone..

rs me. Thou soul-murderer, thou wild beast, hanging is too good for thee.... But just wait.

shoulder.... I rushed to

master!" the fore

reme amazement, with one twist, he tore the girdle from the peasant's elbow, seized him

the devil!" he shouted after him; "

cottage, and began t

u have astonished me. I see that

Only please don't tell about it. Now I'd better show you your

easant's cart rumbl

imself off," he muttered;

bade me farewell on

ONS FO

ian history was Gontcharóff's f

a new word to the

did this wor

merit of the short s

strength of the "Sc

nt of the lif

o show in "Hamlet

rose to his "Fath

triking featur

s of this style are

IOGR

e easily accessible in se

TNO

nounce

t for rough driving in the country, consists merely of a board, attache

ronounced Aryól) a solitary, su

ian peasants use a cow's horn, wi