institutions, I will mention the following fact: at Berlin I was attending the lectures of Zumpt on Roman antiquities, and those of Bockh on Greek literature, whilst I was obliged to work up my Greek and Latin grammar, which I knew very badly. And I was not one of the worst graduates.”

66

Such a state of things was well calculated to produce considerable discontent among the higher classes of Russia. The young man who left his country to finish," could not help seeing how much better "they did those things abroad."

At another part of his Memoirs, M. Turgenev writes: "The rush abroad of young people of my own age reminded me of the early Slavs, who sought for their leaders' among the Variági on the coast. Each of us felt in the same way that his land (I am not speaking of the country generally, but of the moral and intellectual inheritance of the individual) was large and fertile, but that it was without order. Speaking for myself, I may say that I clearly felt the disadvantages of such a separation from my native soil, of such a violent tearing asunder of all the ties which bound me to the order of things amidst which I was brought but there was nothing to be done. That order of things, that milieu, and especially that zone thereof, if I may so express myself, in which I was brought up—namely, that of landowners and serf-owners-did not constitute any such attraction as could have kept me back. On the contrary, nearly everything that I saw around me disturbed me, excited my indignation, and at length became repul

up

sive to me. I could not hesitate long. I had either to reconcile myself and to peacefully follow the common rut in the well-worn road; or with one effort to push away and tear myself away from everybody and everything, even running the risk of losing much that was dear to me and lay near my heart. This I did. Head foremost, I plunged into the 'German Sea' which was to purify and regenerate me; and when at length I issued from its waves, I found myself all the same a 'Zapádnik,'* which I have remained ever since."

This remark throws considerable light on M. Turgénev's character and position towards Russia. He is often spoken of as a man who had half renounced his country, and did not care for it; as a man who has lost his nationality. Nothing is more false. It is customary to speak of Heinrich Heine in the same way, and with no more accuracy. France claims both as her sons; but then France is ready to claim Meyerbeer and Rossini, and nearly every foreign genius who has lived in Paris; so that we need not consider French pretensions.† M. Turgénev calls himself a "Zapádnik," and in a good sense of that word he is one. But the most superficial reader of his works will not fail to see that he loves his country well,

* Literally, a "Westerner." The term has been always applied to Russians who are imbued with western ideas and culture, and are anxious to westernize (if one may so say) Russia.

I may mention, as an amusing fact, that the Paris Figaro, some months ago, crowned Mr. Gladstone's career by remarking that he was presque digne d'être français !

and is a thorough Russian. He does not direct his irony against the foibles of his countrymen in order to depreciate them in the eyes of the world. He is, on the contrary only desirous of correcting those weaknesses of his Countrymen, and of redressing the wrongs of the country which he loves. So, at least, I cannot help understanding the writings of M. Turgenev.

During his submersion in the "German Sea" Iván Sergyéevich contracted an affection for, and established bonnes relations with, Germany, which have not grown less with the lapse of time. In Germany he is as popular as he is in his own country, and better understood, perhaps, than in any other foreign country, despite the pretty general prejudice against Russia which exists there. In France M. Turgenev is for most people above all a great stylist. In Germany he is that also, but he is chiefly a great painter of morals; the man who has brought to light the ills and woes of his country, and especially the odious features of serfdom.

M. Turgenev returned from Germany in 1841, and settled for a while in Moscow, where his mother was. living, making there many literary acquaintances. It is little use mentioning names to English readers without giving some account of their significance-which would lead me too far. From Moscow Iván Sergyéevich went, after some time, to St. Petersburg, where he entered the Civil Service, like most Russians of his rank. But after a year's work in the Ministry of the Interior, he withdrew

from official life, and finally adopted the profession of letters.

While a student at St. Petersburg he had written a tragedy, a "slavish imitation of Byron's Manfred," as he himself styles it. He showed it to P. A. Plétnev, the Professor of Russian Literature at the University. Plétnev delighted Iván Sergyéevich by saying that there was "something in him." But his real début in literature took place in 1843. Of this M. Turgenev gives the following account in his Memoirs :

"Somewhere about Easter in 1843, there happened an event, in itself most insignificant, and buried long ago already in oblivion. There appeared, namely, a not very long poem, by a certain T. L., called Parásha.* That T. L. was I; with that poem I made my first step in the career of literature. . . The day on which I was leaving St. Petersburg for the country, I went to Byélinski's (I knew where he lived, but had not visited him, and had met him twice in all at the houses of friends), and without giving my name, left a copy of my poem with his servant. I spent about two months in the country, where I received the May number of Otéchestvennuiya Zapiski.† Therein I read a long criticism of my poem by Byélinski. He was well disposed towards me, and praised me so much, that I was more agitated than delighted. I could not believe my eyes, and when in Moscow the late T. V. Kiryéevski came

* Diminutive of Praskovia.

† Annals of the Fatherland-one of the best Russian reviews.

and congratulated me, I hastened to escape, assuring him that I was not the author of Parásha. On returning to St. Petersburg, I went, of course, to see Byélinski, and our friendship then began."

Before giving any further extracts from the Memoirs, it will perhaps be advisable to say a few words about Vissárion Grigoryévich Byélinski, one of the best known figures in modern Russian literature-the first of Russian critics.

Byélinski was born in 1811, and died in 1848, of consumption. His father was a country doctor, who was able, however, to give his son a very fair education. But foreign languages the critic was never proficient in; even French he read with difficulty, and, as M. Turgenev tells us, Byélinski's life was devoted to literature and literary criticism. He wisely gave up writing poetry, while still quite a young man, feeling that he was not meant to be a poet. In his early days, when he was settled and writing in Moscow, he seems to have been narrow and one-sided in his judgments. For instance, as M. Polevói tells us in his History of Russian Literature*, when he was under the influence of an undigested Hegelianism, he carried his exaction of an "Olympian, objective, and calm contemplation of life" in a poet, to the extent of only recognising three really great poets in the world-Shakespeare, Goethe,

* I take this opportunity of acknowledging my debt to M. P. Polevói for the assistance which his excellent work (Istóriya Rússkoy Literatúrni, 3e Isdaniè, St. Petersburg, 1878) has afforded me in the writing of this short biography.