"The Russian hero is always silly and stupid, he is always sick of
something; always thinking of something that cannot be understood, and
is himself so miserable, so m--i--serable! He will think, think, then
talk, then he will go and make a declaration of love, and after that
he thinks, and thinks again, till he marries. . . . And when he is
married, he talks all sorts of nonsense to his wife, and then abandons
her."

Turgenev's Bazarov and Artsybashev's Sanin indicate the ardent revolt
against the national masculine temperament; like true Slavs, they go
clear to the other extreme, and bring resolution to a reductio ad
absurdum; for your true Russian knows no middle course, being entirely
without the healthy moderation of the Anglo-Saxon. The great Turgenev
realised his own likeness to Rudin. Mrs. Ritchie has given a very
pleasant unconscious testimony to this fact.

"Just then my glance fell upon Turgenev leaning against the doorpost
at the far end of the room, and as I looked, I was struck, being
shortsighted, by a certain resemblance to my father [Thackeray], which
I tried to realise to myself. He was very tall, his hair was grey and
abundant, his attitude was quiet and reposeful; I looked again and
again while I pictured to myself the likeness. When Turgenev came up
after the music, he spoke to us with great kindness, spoke of our
father, and of having dined at our house, and he promised kindly and
willingly to come and call next day upon my sister and me in Onslow
Gardens. I can remember that next day still; dull and dark, with a
yellow mist in the air. All the afternoon I sat hoping and expecting
that Turgenev might come, but I waited in vain. Two days later, we met
him again at Mrs. Huth's, where we were all once more assembled. Mr.
Turgenev came straight up to me at once. 'I was so sorry that I could