This supreme art told upon the Russian public unconsciously, as it was
bound to tell upon a nation so richly endowed with natural artistic
instinct. Turgenev was always the most widely read of Russian authors,
not excepting Tolstoi, who came to the front only after his death. But
full recognition he had not, because he happened to produce his works
in a troubled epoch of political and social strife, when the best men
were absorbed in other interests and pursuits, and could not and would
not appreciate and enjoy pure art. This was the painful, almost
tragic, position of an artist, who lived in a most inartistic epoch,
and whose highest aspirations and noblest efforts wounded and
irritated those among his countrymen whom he was most devoted to, and
whom he desired most ardently to serve.

This strife embittered Turgenev's life.

At one crucial epoch of his literary career the conflict became so
vehement, and the outcry against him, set in motion by his very
artistic truthfulness and objectiveness, became so loud and unanimous,
that he contemplated giving up literature altogether. He could not
possibly have held to this resolution. But it is surely an open
question whether, sensitive and modest as he was, and prone to
despondency and diffidence, he would have done so much for the
literature of his country without the enthusiastic encouragement of
various great foreign novelists, who were his friends and admirers:
George Sand, Gustave Flaubert, in France; Auerbach, in Germany; W. D.
Howells, in America; George Eliot, in England.

We will tell the story of his troubled life piece by piece as far as
space will allow, as his works appear in succession. Here we will only