Classics and the Western Canon discussion

Nicholai is discouraged because he doesn’t have the money to make improvements on his property. We learned earlier that Pavel had frequently loaned him money to help him manage the estate. Pavel seems sad when he visits Phenechka and the baby Mitya as if to suggest he feels he has missed out on something. Bazarov articulates his position toward nature and ridicules Nicholai for living in the backwoods and playing the cello.

Chapter 10 opens with a discussion between Nicholai and Pavel. A depressed Nicholai is a reformer who has divided his land with the peasants, started a farm, and has tried to keep up with the times by adopting a progressive attitude. In spite of his efforts, he feels alienated from his son and agrees with Bazarov’s assessment that he is a has-been. Pavel refutes this, arguing it is the young who are misguided. Things come to a head when Pavel and Bazarov have an ideological clash. Later, Nicholai goes to the garden. While harboring melancholy thoughts, he still appreciates the beauty in nature but is aware the young would think him foolish.

Bazarov and Arcadii visit Kolyazin, a relative who has extended an invitation to the family. They bump into Bazarov’s friend, Sitnikov. He convinces them to visit his friend, Kukshina, whom he describes as an “emancipated woman.” They get drunk and leave when Kukshina begins to sing ballads. They attend the governor’s ball and Arcadii is smitten with Madame Anna Odintsova, a widow. Bazarov declares his opinion of free-thinking women.

___________

Bazarov is a guest in the home of Nicholai, and yet he feels he has the right to give a harsh assessment of his host’s property. What does this reveal about his character?

Has Arcadii fully embraced nihilism or is he just parroting Bazarov?

Turgenev sets up a contrast between Nicholai’s romantic perception of nature and Bazarov’s scientific perception. Is Turgenev setting up a false dichotomy? Does nature have to be either this or that? Can’t it be both?

The explosive conflict between Pavel and Bazarov illustrates their contrasting views about society and the role of tradition. How would you sum up these views? Can the two views be reconciled in any way?

What is the point of the episode with Kukshina?

Tamara wrote: "Bazarov is a guest in the home of Nicholai, and yet he feels he has the right to give a harsh assessment of his host’s property. What does this reveal about his character?"

Speaking of Bazarov's character, I was just reading a letter Turgenev wrote in 1869, seven years after this novel was first published, about how he has "lost -- and apparently forever -- the younger Russian generation's friendly disposition towards [him]." Apparently, the politically-minded Russians of Bazarov's generation took offense to the way they were portrayed through the character of Bazarov. "Nihilist" became a sort of political slur. Like dismissing all liberal viewpoints as "woke" or all conservative viewpoints as racist/sexist/etc. in America today.

As to what Bazarov's behavior reveals about his character, I would say that he is "living his truth" so to speak. His comments and behavior definitely show disrespect for his hosts. However, since he is a professed nihilist, showing respect and common courtesy when appropriate would be among the many traditions that he seeks to eschew. So he's behaving as a bad houseguest, but a good nihilist by being straightforwardly unpleasant.

I understand the question you're asking about the false dichotomy between Romanticism and science, but I think the contrast is more clear between Bazarov and Pavel. I don't think those are the only ways of looking at it, but I do think they were the two warring philosophies of the time. Pavel is almost a caricature of the Romantic of the 1840s; something Turgenev notes in his letter. It seems to me that Nicholai and Arkady have more nuanced/unsure viewpoints, while obviously leaning toward their generation.

As to what their views are, Pavel is a great portrait of the jaded Romantic who responded to the failure of 1848-49 to bring immediate change with defeatism. Pavel also has a very paternalistic view of the "peasants." A common criticism of his generation was that they paid lip service to respecting the people, but they didn't respect them enough to accept that improving the status of the poor meant reducing the status of the rich. He might respect them, but he also resents them and their "presuming" to be on his level.

Bazarov, by contrast, responded to the failure of abstract thoughts and goals in the 1840s generation by rejecting all abstract thought as meaningless. Idealistic socialist utopias are abstract goals; hence, rejected. Social status? "Land-owning"? Hiring stewards to serve you? All in service of abstract ideas (mainly those of tradition) and; therefore, also rejected as meaningless. Only the concrete appeals to him and he reflexively rejects agreeing with anyone else. He studies dissected frogs to learn how to help people in the immediate and real sense. He doesn't aggrandize "the people", but rather takes them for the flawed humans that they are. And they respect him more for it.

Interestingly, in Turgenev's letter defending his work, he points out that he, himself, is not a nihilist, but that he shares most of Barazov's views, except in regards to art. Older Russian saw Turgenev as a nihilist like Bazarov after this novel and the actual younger nihilists reproached him for making their philosophy look bad. His defense was that he was simply painting as true of a picture of the situation as possible.

Since it's started to become a clearer topic, I also wanted to mention the Westernizers vs. Slavophil dichotomy in Russian political thought at this time.

Among the nihilists, most were also Slavophil, as in favoring the Slavic (a common Russian ethnicity) identity over the new ideas and customs coming out of Western Europe. You can see Turgenev alluding to this by the way that Nicholai and Pavel tend to slip into French, German or Italian in every day speech. This was normal in the first half of the century, but not so much in the second half.

The 1840s generation were Westernizers who wanted to make Russia more free and democratic like the Western European varieties. The 1860s nihilists, on the other hand, wanted to revive and revere the Russian language and customs. They saw the Romanovs in light of their foreignness and rejected all foreignness as a result. Arkady and Barazov would view the use of other European languages in everyday speech as pretentious.

One thing I thought was interesting is that while Turgenev said that he placed himself squarely in the Westernizers camp, he actually favored the views expressed by the younger generation in the novel more. I guess that gives you an idea of how fuzzy thinking about the future of Russia was at this time.

I viewed the Kukshina episode as intellectualism run amuck. Kukshina is constantly dropping the names of authors and their books that the others must read. She never gives her own opinions on anything but instead just name drops some author as having the best opinion on the topic.

Not sure how "intellectualism" is defined, but I'd agree that Kukshina seems rather pretentious. It's unclear to me if she is practicing sophistry-- as in appropriating ideas without understanding them-- or if she actually understands and believes in what she says, but it does seem like either way she's doing much of it for show.

Aiden wrote: "However, since he [Bazarov] is a professed nihilist, showing respect and common courtesy when appropriate would be among the many traditions that he seeks to eschew. So he's behaving as a bad houseguest, but a good nihilist by being straightforwardly unpleasant..."

I don't understand why being a nihilist requires one to be rude and arrogant. Bazarov reserves his rudeness for the upper classes. I can understand he rejects all that Nicholai and Pavel represent, but I don't think that justifies his rudeness. It seems to me one can be a good nihilist and challenge authority and tradition and the old ways of doing things while simultaneously treat people with common courtesy and decency.

Maybe in his mind, Bazarov is living his truth. In my mind, his arrogance and rude behavior indicate he is taking his position to an extreme, and whenever we do that, we risk alienating people who might otherwise be more open to listen to our views.

Mike wrote: "I viewed the Kukshina episode as intellectualism run amuck. Kukshina is constantly dropping the names of authors and their books that the others must read. She never gives her own opinions on anyth..."

I see her the same way. She comes across as pretentious and superficial, as someone who is trying to impress with all the name-dropping.

I see Sitnikov as a sort of political groupie. He fawns over Bazarov as if, by doing so, he will increase his stature through his association with him.

The only character I currently find appealing is Nicholai. He wants desperately to connect with his son, is trying to implement reforms on his property, is introspective, questions himself, has a conscience, loved his first wife, is gentle with Phenechka, and tries to diffuse the tension between Pavel and Bazarov. On top of that, he is moved by the beauty he finds in nature, appreciates music, and plays the cello.

So far, he ticks all the right boxes.

"Arcadii sybaritized, Bazarov worked away." Concise contrast. Almost sounds as though they are equally productive, or equally non-productive, or at the extremes of productivity. Work. Any irony here?

Tamara wrote: "It seems to me one can be a good nihilist and challenge authority and tradition and the old ways of doing things while simultaneously treat people with common courtesy and decency.

One of the complaints of the nihilists was actually that previous attempts at reform were pointless because they still played by the rules of their oppressors (theoretically, the aristocratic nobility and tsar, even though most of the "nihilists" weren't actually oppressed peasants). The 1840s reformers were seen by the next generation as having spent their lives rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic, so to speak. The younger generation also had more respect for the peasants as human beings and they didn't appreciate how the Pavel-types condescended while claiming to want reform, so they treated those types rudely.

Essentially, someone like Bazarov-- that is to say, a true-believer Russian nihilist of this period-- would reply to your criticism of his lack of decorum by pointing out that the rules of this particular "polite society" were created by their supposed "betters" as a way of teaching the lower classes how those betters should be treated. (Politeness definitely didn't go in both directions, as you can see by how Pavel still treats Fenechka with slight disdain.)

Aiden wrote: "(Politeness definitely didn't go in both directions, as you can see by how Pavel still treats Fenechka with slight disdain.)
..."

I may have missed something but I didn't get the sense Pavel treated Fenechka with disdain. In fact, I got the exact opposite impression. The way he lingered until she brought the baby. The way he tickled his nephew's chin. The way he left abruptly as soon as his brother entered the room as if he were embarrassed. I got the distinct impression he envied his brother for having a relationship with Fenechka and for having a young son--neither of which he will have. This impression is reinforced when Pavel goes back to his room:

He cast himself on the divan, put his hands behind his head, and lay thus without stirring, his gaze fixed on the ceiling in something very like despair. Whether it was because he wanted to conceal from the very walls that which his face betrayed, or for some other cause, he got up, released the fastenings which kept back the heavy hangings over the windows, and again threw himself onto the divan

Pavel is lonely and very much alone. He feels something akin to despair. He wants to conceal his face for fear it will betray his feelings for Fenechka and the life he won't have.

I didn't see disdain at all. But I may have missed something. I'd be interested to see the lines that lead you to conclude he treats her with disdain.

Tamara wrote: "Aiden wrote: "(Politeness definitely didn't go in both directions, as you can see by how Pavel still treats Fenechka with slight disdain.)
..."

Turgenev does it with subtlety that wouldn't be noticed as much now, but would have been clear to literate Russians, and probably Europeans, of the day. Nicholai's feeling like he needs to hide Fenechka away before Arkady corrects him can only be due to a feeling of shame before Pavel, since he is the only other one living there before Arkady returns. It's also looked at with slight horror by Pavel when Arkady leaves dinner to go to see the "sick" Fenechka and invite her to join. That would have been radically progressive thinking to them, since she is a former serf. It's implied that Fenechka doesn't normally dine with them, her own husband and brother-in-law, and they pretend it's her choice.

The scene where Pavel shows up unannounced and plays with his nephew (and the lines that you quoted) shows a clear feeling that he believes he is above them, socially. He does what he was shocked to see Arkady do. He makes himself right at home without invitation. (Throwing himself on the furniture is rather uncouth behavior in this context.) He feels entitled to everything that he's doing out of social position, not from love or respect for Fenechka and his nephew. He does feel lonely, but it's partially those feelings of refusing to relate to Fenechka and people of her station that make him lonely.

Not that it necessarily looks this way today, but to show up unannounced in the private quarters of a woman he's never embraced as a sister-in-law would have been seen as similar to the master of the land showing up in a serf's house with feelings of magnanimity. The master expects to be greeted cordially while he amuses himself with the serf's children, without regard to whether the serfs even want him there to begin with.

Pavel doesn't really ask if he can come in or ask Fenechka's consent to anything that he's doing when he visits her. He doesn't even warn her he is coming to her private quarters; a serious breach of decorum for his type. It's implied that she responds with a little confusion and timidity because his attitude towards her has remained master-serf, regardless of her relations with his brother, before now. So much so that Nicholai feel like he has to hide away his beloved and child in his own house.

So yes, not disdain as in hatred, but rather the vague disgust of condescension. I don't disagree with your feeling that it wouldn't be understandable by our own standards today, but it would have been clear to Turgenev and his intended audience.

Aiden wrote: "Turgenev does it with subtlety that wouldn't be noticed as much now, but would have been clear to literate Russians, and probably Europeans, of the day. Nicholai's feeling like he needs..."

Thanks for the explanation.

Does anybody else find Bazarov making more unconcious value judgements in these chapters? Such as how meat is greater than bread even at a “molecular level?” It’s annoying.

As for Kukshina, I’m struck by all the magazines she has in her home. She quotes others without giving her own opinion. It reminds me of how other characters in this novel imitate Bazarov simply because he claims to not believe in anything. He’s a novelty and therefore interesting.

Peej wrote: "Does anybody else find Bazarov making more unconcious value judgements in these chapters? Such as how meat is greater than bread even at a “molecular level?” It’s annoying...."

I agree. I find him very annoying. He speaks with such certainty and self-assurance. At the same time, I recognize he is probably very charismatic and attracts individuals who gravitate toward those who exhibit strength, self-assurance, and an unwavering belief in their own rightness.

Methinks Bazarov is in need of a strong dose of humility.

For what it's worth, Turgenev's contemporaries viewed Bazarov the same way. They recognized in him a type of young man in Russia during this period, but they would agree with your characterizations.

Aiden wrote: "For what it's worth, Turgenev's contemporaries viewed Bazarov the same way. They recognized in him a type of young man in Russia during this period, but they would agree with your characterizations."

It's nice to know I'm in good company :)

Aiden wrote: "Tamara wrote: "Aiden wrote: "(Politeness definitely didn't go in both directions, as you can see by how Pavel still treats Fenechka with slight disdain.)
..."

Turgenev does it with subtlety that w..."

I've had the same impression when Pavel asks Fenechka about the new curtains in her room and reminds her of who now takes up her old lodgings (the laundry maids). I wonder if he would have asked the same question to Arkady's mother.

You know, the violent argument between Pavel and Bazarov in chapter in chapter 10 reminded me of what might have been felt by the teenagers in the Chicago teen rioting. Could they have felt it useless to engage in 'the endless talk about our social ills' and decided to 'destroy things without even knowing why'?
I don't agree with Bazarov or the teen riots but I can also feel some of the desperate exasperation as well as the sadness in Nikolai Petrovich's realization that their time is up.

"And now our turn has come, and our successors can tell us, 'You don't belong to our generation, swallow your pill'"

I'm reading King Lear at the moment and I feel the echoing of both the young and old generations of Russia in Shakespeare's words:

"The younger rises when the old doth fall"

“The weight of this sad time we must obey,
Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say.
The oldest hath borne most: we that are young
Shall never see so much, nor live so long.”

Since we have been discussing the specific character of Bazarov's nihilism, I wanted to share a critical observation from Irving Howe in a 1956 essay for The Hudson Review that I thought really captured a caveat:

For all that Bazarov's nihilism accurately reflects a phase of Russian and European history, it must be taken more as a symptom of political desperation than as a formal intellectual system.

That explains the character of nihilism more clearly than I could manage.

It seems desperate for Bazarov. It also doesn’t construct anything new. It’s the stage of the revolution where one opposes but can’t build anew.

Up and down the centuries radical ideas and philosophies have always been perceived at the onset like uninvited guests or contagions. They show up, disturb the familiar order, and leave a mess in their wake. Bazarov’s character is spot-on in this regard.

Tamara wrote: "Has Arcadii fully embraced nihilism or is he just parroting Bazarov?"

I think he is more on the parroting side. Arcady hasn't shed social convention or maybe even tradition as a whole. He may not fully be aware of it, but it is there. For instance, Arcady doesn't like the fact that his father hasn't married Fenitchka, "I think he ought to marry her" Arcady says to Bazarov. And predictably Bazarov's scoffs at him.

Nocolai looks more like an old goat for having seduced the lovely and much younger Fenitchka, who could be his daughter. Then there is the shameless taking advantage of a servant in your household. These things have always happened, but at the same time were always frowned upon. The only clean way out of this is marriage, especially for Fenitchka's sake and their baby boy. Him not marrying her proves he doesn't care for her enough to go the final step.

Tamara wrote: "The explosive conflict between Pavel and Bazarov illustrates their contrasting views about society and the role of tradition. How would you sum up these views? Can the two views be reconciled in any way?"

Tradition is one of these terms with a very broad definition. It isn't just out-dated convention, as Bazarov conveniently interprets it. In addition to social structure tradition encompasses all the history, achievements, knowledge, wisdom, and more, of the generations that came before us. So when we dismiss tradition, we throw out with the bathwater much of what is good in our lives. If Bazarov were truly consistent in his actions based on his convictions he would have to live like a caveman. (Very badly, I imagine, for he doesn't have the skills to survive as a caveman). He states that "everything" has to be destroyed. "The ground needs clearing first", To be consistent in his actions he should have never stepped into a carriage or sipped Kukshina's champaign, for these are part of the cultural inheritance of the past.

What Pavel is pointing out in so many words is that for the individual and society to flourish it needs structure. He uses the word 'principle'. He also points out to Bazarov that you should have a plan on what to do after the destruction. Bazarov is not concerned with that. He is only interested in destruction. He makes it really easy for himself, doesn't he? He doesn't care one lick for the ramifications of such devastation. He doesn't care a lick for the human suffering, the casualties, of the upheaval he wants to inflict. He may be an aspiring doctor, but he is no healer. For that he would need compassion. At one point in the conversation "Pavel Petrovitch turned white". He understands what is going on here and is shocked by it.

Both Nicolai and Pavel have and still are experiencing on the ground the end of serfdom in Russia. This is a huge upheaval with long-term ramifications. Serfdom goes back to the mid-to-late 1500s, when the free movement of peasants was forbidden. That's a long time. In light of this, both Nicolai and Pavel are not uncaring people. They are part of the generation that has to implement these changes, a task all-together new to everyone. Privileged or not, this is an overwhelming situation. The touching visit of Pavel to Fenitchka and little Mitya shows he wants to open up the hierarchical barrier. As we see this is not without personal cost to Pavel. Serfdom didn't get established over night, the origins lay way before the 1500s, and now that it is no longer legally in effect will take a long time to socially grow into something new.

Very helpful summary and clarification, Kerstin. Thank you.

Kerstin wrote: "Him [Nicolai] not marrying her proves he doesn't care for her enough to go the final step.

We'll learn a little later in the novel why he hasn't married her.

I have two questions, and I am wondering if anyone has answers.
First, when Pavel is observing Fenitchka's room, he sees

"In the opposite corner a little lamp was burning before a big dark picture of St. Nikolai the wonder-worker; a tiny porcelain egg hung by a red ribbon from the protruding gold halo down to the saint's breast;"

This looks like a home-shrine with an icon to St. Nicholas. Some icons are handcarved out of wood in relief where the halo of the saint protrudes. Now what is new to me is the dangling egg. Does anyone know the significance of this?

Second, Fenitchka is reading a novel/romance of some sort. I could not find any information on Masalsky's Musketeer, which in the German translation of the book I am reading is entitled The Strelitzias

And just for kicks, Fentichka's jam of gooseberry is black currant in the German translation.

Kerstin wrote: "Now what is new to me is the dangling egg. Does anyone know the significance of this?..."

The egg is a symbol of creation and fertility in many world mythologies. Some cultures believe the universe was hatched from an egg. The egg can also represent hope and unrealized potential since the potential for life is encased in its shell. In the Christian context, it represents rebirth, renewal, regeneration.

I'm not sure if this answers your question.

Tamara wrote: "The egg is a symbol of creation and fertility in many world mythologies. Some cultures believe the universe was hatched from an egg. The egg can also represent hope and unrealized potential since the potential for life is encased in its shell. In the Christian context, it represents rebirth, renewal, regeneration.

I'm not sure if this answers your question."

Yes, this is definitely part of it. I was specifically wondering if there was a custom involving hanging eggs from icons. In Germany we have the Easter bouquet. I put one up every year.
https://de.academic.ru/pictures/dewik...

Having a place dedicated to devotion in the home obviously predates Christianity. Looking deeper, I found more information on the icon corner specifically and the rich symbolism that's part of it. There is an equivalent in Catholicism, which we call Herrgottswinkel = Lord's Corner in southern Germany. It prominently features a crucifix and sometimes other devotional articles. As a rule this corner is also the location of the table where the family gathers for meals. The Protestant equivalent to this custom is a Bible prominently placed on a side board or coffee table.
Icon corner:
https://russianicon.com/wp-content/up...
Herrgottswinkel:
https://img.fotocommunity.com/herrgot...

The icon corner is the center of the family's daily worship practices and ideally faces east - ad orientem in Latin - towards the rising sun. The sun being a Christian symbol for Christ. In the early Church house churches, meaning worship took place in the individual homes of Christians, predate the church building. As over time churches were built the altar always faced ad orientem. Part of this was and is in the liturgical celebration of the Mass that the presiding priest always faces the altar or ad orientem, meaning, his back to the assembly. We still find this in all churches with apostolic succession, Orthodox, Melkite, Coptic, et.al., and in the Traditional Latin Mass. Summed up, the icon corner and its equivalents go back to the origins of Chrisitanity and Christian worship.

Part of the icon corner is an oil lamp. It is a sign of the faithful Christian to attentively care for this burning lamp as a symbol of caring for his soul. The icon corner should be visible upon entering the house from the main entrance. A faithful Orthodox visitor would first upon entering the house venerate the icon before greeting the members of the house.
The icons displayed usually depict Christ, Theotokos = Mother of God, and a patron saint. Fenitchka chooses the ever-popular St. Nicholas of Myra and basis of today's much altered Santa Claus figure.

The egg:
In Christian symbolism the egg does represent the cosmos and new life, just like in other faith traditions. In addition it is a symbol for Christ. In the context of Easter and the Resurrection he breaks forth from the tomb. The egg is also a container of new life within and therefore also a symbol of the Virgin Mary. Within her womb she carried Christ. In the Marian prayer Alma Redemptoris Mater is a deeply mystical line:

tu quae genuisti, natura mirante, tuum sanctum Genitorem
To the wonderment of of nature you [Mary] bore your Creator

Heart (Breast):
It is the center of being, both physical and spiritual. The heart symbolizes life as well as man's expression for the love of God.

Red:
Lots of symbolism here and too much to enumerate. Chiefly, it is the color of blood and symbolizes life but also sacrifice. It is the color of martyrs. It symbolizes love, but also sin.

Put all together when we look at the description given us

"In the opposite corner a little lamp was burning before a big dark picture of St. Nikolai the wonder-worker; a tiny porcelain egg hung by a red ribbon from the protruding gold halo down to the saint's breast;"

Fenitchka's icon corner is a mixture of custom and popular piety of her own expression. She has Christ, the Theotokos, and the Patron Saint. She is a simple woman who I expect to act more out of pious intuition rather than learned knowledge. Yet from her child-like composition she created a complex mystical image of deep spirituality that packs a punch.

Kerstin wrote: "I have two questions, and I am wondering if anyone has answers.
First, when Pavel is observing Fenitchka's room, he sees "In the opposite corner a little lamp was burning before a big dark picture ..."

In Katz's Norton Critical Edition, the line reads, "...St. Nikolai, the miracle worker; a tiny porcelain egg on a red ribbon fastened to the saint's gold halo hung over his chest..."

A footnote on St. Nikolai simply says, "A patron saint in Russia venerated as the "miracle worker." Given the other objects in the room, I actually took the icon as partially a way of venerating her husband, Nicholai, who she is thankful to for having saved her (from poverty) by marrying her.

After a little research, I came across an item that I think is similar to the type of egg they are referring to. An example can be found on Sotheby's site here: https://www.sothebys.com/en/buy/aucti...

As you can see, it's more of the Faberge-type of egg. They seem to be a popular Slavic decoration, particularly at that time. Given the subject matter, I would hazard a guess as to the red ribbon's significance as having to do with revolution, though I'm not sure this is justified by the text.

As for the novel Fenechka is reading, Katz included the following footnote: "A lengthy historical novel (1832) by K. P. Masalsky (1801-1861) about the musketeers formed by Ivan the Great in the sixteenth century and disbanded by Peter the Great at the end of the seventeenth century."

I'm guessing the fact that this novel was published the same year that author died is coincidence.

Kerstin wrote: "Tamara wrote: "The egg is a symbol of creation and fertility in many world mythologies. Some cultures believe the universe was hatched from an egg. The egg can also represent hope and unrealized po..."

Fascinating information! I love how you put it all together in your interpretation of Fenitchka's icon corner.
Thank you, Kerstin.