Fathers And Sons

“‘What’s there to apologize for?’ he thought, and a feeling of indulgent tenderness toward his gentle father, combined with a sensation of secret superiority, filled his soul. ‘Stop it please’ he repeated, involuntarily enjoying an awareness of his own maturity and freedom.”

Though Arkady is filled with pride, confidence, and a growing sense of superiority over his father, he is overcome with “tenderness” after his father discloses his nontraditional domestic arrangement with Fenechka. Arkady’s dueling emotions are in conflict: He loves the opportunity to magnanimously forgive his father and assert his radicalism at the same time. Arkady loves his father, but also values his newfound political opinions and association with Bazarov. This tension between emotional ties and intellectual arrogance proves key to Arkady’s character development throughout the novel.

“‘An archaic phenomenon! But your father’s a splendid fellow, he wastes his time reading poetry and hardly understands estate management, but he’s a good sort.’ ‘My father’s pure gold.’ ‘Did you see how shy he is?’ Arkady nodded, as if he himself weren’t shy. ‘It’s quite astonishing,’ Bazarov continued, ‘these aging romantics. They’ll expand their nervous systems to the breaking point. Then, all equilibrium will be destroyed. Anyway, goodnight! There’s an English washstand in my room and the door doesn’t lock. Nevertheless, one must encourage it all—English washstands, that’s real progress!’”

When Bazarov evaluates and dissects the older Kirsanovs, he ropes Arkady into mocking his father and uncle too. Here, Bazarov scoffs at Nikolai’s preference for intellectual and artistic pursuits over practical ones: He calls Nikolai “archaic,” backhandedly compliments him as “a good sort,” and calls both older men “romantics” to underline that they value feeling over scientific detachment. For Bazarov, emotions are a threat to rational “equilibrium.” Though Arkady tries to defend his father, Bazarov manipulates him into laughing at Nikolai being “shy,” creating distance between father and son despite their similar temperaments. Bazarov is also mocks the family’s tastes, highlighting the “English washstands” in the bedroom to underline his distaste for aristocratic values.

“Nikolai looked after him and sank down on his chair in confusion. His heart began pounding. Did he imagine the inevitable strangeness of future relations between himself and his son? Was he aware that his son might have shown him more respect if he’d never mentioned the subject? Did he reproach himself for his own weakness? It’s hard to say. All these emotions were present, but in the form of sensations—and not very distinct ones at that. The flush didn’t leave his face and his heart kept pounding.” 

Nikolai is in turmoil. Above all, he loves peace and tranquil home life, but now he must resolve his love for Fenechka with the social opprobrium their relationship occasions, and his love for his son with his fear that he and Arkady will never be close again. Even the narrator cannot pin down what this somewhat feeble man is thinking—only that he is a man entirely out of his depth.

“‘No, it isn’t all the same thing. A nihilist is a person who doesn’t bow down before authorities, doesn’t accept even one principle on faith, no matter how much respect surrounds that principle.’ ‘And that’s a good is that a good thing?’ Pavel interrupted. ‘For some people, it’s good, for others, it’s not’ ‘So that’s how it is. I can see it’s not our cup of tea. We’re people of another age, we assume that without principles (Pavel articulated this word softly, in the French manner, while Arkady, on the contrary, pronounced it principles, on the first syllable). ‘Without principles accepted, as you say, on faith, it’s impossible to take a step, to draw a breath. Vous avez tout cela, God grant you health and the rank of general […] We’ll merely stand by and admire you gentlemen, how is it?’ ‘Nihilists,’ Arkady replied clearly. ‘Yes, before there were Hegelists, now we have nihilists. Well, we’ll see how you fare in a void, a vacuum; and now, Brother, Nikolai Petrovich, please ring for the servants as it’s time for me to drink my cocoa.’” 

This argument between Pavel and Arkady lays out the differences between the generations the two men represent, which are so stark that even when Pavel and Arkady use the same words, they pronounce them differently: Pavel’s pronunciation is French—the language many aristocrats spoke better than their own—while Arkady’s accent is Russian. Arkady rejects established authority, celebrating the autonomy this provides. Nihilism allows him to no longer “bow down” to convention, instead championing reason and rationality. Conversely, Pavel sees faith as animating and buttresses his argument with literature like Griboedov’s comedic play, Woe from Wit (when he tells Arkady “God grant you health and the rank of general,” he is alluding to this popular satirical play from 1831). Pavel dismisses nihilism as another in a long line of intellectual fads—his own generation was drawn to the German idealism of Hegel.

“‘Well, in a word,’ continued Arkady, ‘he’s profoundly unhappy, believe me. It’s a sin to despise him.’ ‘Who despises him?’ Bazarov objected. ‘Still I say that a man that stakes his entire life on a woman’s love and, when that one card gets beaten, turns sour and sinks to the point where he’s incapable of doing anything at all, then that person is no longer a man, not even a male of the species. You say he’s unhappy, you ought to know; but all his foolishness still hasn’t gone out of him. I’m certain he earnestly regards himself as a worthwhile person because he reads Galignani once a month and saves an occasional peasant from corporal punishment.’” 

Arkady defends his family in private even as he argues with them in public. This time, he defends Pavel using the language of religion: It would be morally wrong to have contempt for his uncle given his personal tragedy. Bazarov takes a harsher view, arguing that to give up on life after failed romance is emasculating. This foreshadows Bazarov future contempt for himself after he falls in love with Anna and she rejects him. Bazarov politicizes his disdain: He argues that Pavel pats himself on the back for reading English newspapers and refraining from beating peasants. To Bazarov, these trappings of aristocratic liberalism are a shallow pose.

“Here’s why. Today I was sitting and reading Pushkin […] Suddenly Arkady comes up to me and silently, with an expression of tender compassion, as if I were a little child, takes my book away and places another book in front of me, a German one […] and leaves, carrying away my Pushkin.” 

This episode between Arkady and Nikolai underscores the political importance of literature in Russia, especially among the aristocracy. Nikolai is reading Pushkin, still regarded as a cultural icon for his creation of a Russian literary language and literary canon. Arkady sees his father as childish for his continued devotion to both canonical texts and fiction. His patronizing “compassion” is inspired by Bazarov’s advice.

“Then we realized that talking, simply talking, all the time about our open sores isn’t worth the trouble; that it leads only to being vulgar and doctrinaire; we saw that even our intelligent men, our so-called progressives and denouncers, served no purpose at all, that we were preoccupied with a lot of nonsense, arguing over some form of art, unconscious creativity, parliamentarianism, and the devil knows what else, while really it was a question of our daily bread, when we were all being oppressed by the most primitive superstitions, when all our joint stock companies were collapsing merely because of a lack of honest men, while the emancipation, about which the government was so concerned, will hardly do any good because our peasants are happy to steal from themselves, as long as they can get stinking drunk in the tavern.”

Bazarov’s rant establishes him as a product of his historical context, as much as he insists on his own uniqueness. Russian literature in the 19th century often featured the archetype of the superfluous man—a young intellectual who cannot find a useful social role in Russia due to its autocratic politics, social backwardness, and his own deep sense of alienation from everyone around him. Bazarov’s misanthropy fits this character trope to a tee: He uses medical language, comparing Russia’s social ills to “open sores,” calls the intellectual debates of its critics “vulgar,” decries corrupt institutions while refusing to accept that the coming agricultural reforms are a harbinger of real change. Pavel shares much of this catalogue of grievances; but unlike Pavel, Bazarov despairs that all is futile, while remaining certain of his superiority.

“‘I’m very flattered,’ began Sitnikov, walking sideways, grinning, and hurriedly pulling off his overly elegant gloves. ‘[…] I’m an old friend of Evgeny Vasilich, and can even say—his disciple. I owe him my regeneration.’ Arkady looked at Bazarov’s disciple. A restless and vacant expression appeared on the small, though pleasant features of his pampered face; his little eyes, looking as if they’d been squeezed into his face, stared intently and uneasily, and he laughed nervously, in an abrupt, wooden manner.” 

Sitnikov shares some traits with Arkady, though he is far more absurd. He performs radicalism even more starkly than Arkady does, as he is more in thrall to Bazarov. He calls himself the other man’s “disciple,” likening Bazarov to a prophet, perhaps even to Christ; radicalism is Sitnikov’s religion, as he has been “regenerated,” word choice that evokes Christian resurrection. Sitnikov also shares Bazarov’s lack of social graces, but this underlines that he has none of his mentor’s magnetism.

“‘No, no, no. You are a Slavophile! You’re a proponent of the Domostroi. You should carry a whip in your hand!’ ‘A whip’s a fine thing,’ observed Bazarov, ‘but we’re down to the last drop…’ ‘Of what?’ asked Evdoksiya. ‘Champagne, most esteemed Evdoksiya Nikitishna. Champagne, not your blood.’ ‘I can’t listen with indifference when women are attacked,’ continued Evdoksiya. ‘It’s awful, just awful. Instead of attacking them, you ought to read Michelet’s De L’amour. Gentlemen, let’s talk about love.’” 

Kukshina is the novel’s satire of radical intellectual women—she espouses radical ideas but is actually more interested in surrounding herself with young admiring men. Her feminism also has an aristocratic bent: She accuses Sitnikov of being a “Slavophile” who thinks that the country’s salvation lies in its ancient traditions, shares Pavel ’s interest in European intellectual trends. Bazarov mocks Kukshina because he is only using her for her hospitality: Nihilism for him is clearly not incompatible with hedonism.

“‘I can just imagine how you described me! However, you did very well. Take me along. Whoever she may be—simply a provincial “lioness” or an emancipated woman like Kukshina, she has the nicest pair of shoulders I’ve seen in a long time.’ Arkady was offended by Bazarov’s cynicism—but, as is often the case, reproached his friend for something other than what he disliked in him […] ‘Why are you so unwilling to allow women to be freethinkers?’ He asked in a low voice. ‘Because, my friend, as far as I’ve observed the only female freethinkers are ugly monsters.’” 

Bazarov reveals his thorough misogyny. He thanks Arkady for doing a good job provide amusement and alleviation from boredom in the figure of Anna, whom Bazarov is interested solely for her appearance: He posits that his own radicalism is elevating, he insists that it turns women into “ugly monsters” just as love emasculates men. When Bazarov brazenly comments on her shoulders, for the first time, we see Arkady offended by Bazarov’s views: Arkady is more sexually self-controlled and castigates Bazarov for his disdain for feminism.

“It was hard to guess from Anna’s face what sort of impression he was making; her face retained one and the same expression, cordial and elegant; her lovely eyes shone with attention but that attention was completely composed. Bazarov’s affectation in the first minutes of their meeting had an unpleasant effect on her, like a foul odor or a shrill sound; but she understood at once that he was embarrassed and even found that flattering. Vulgar mediocrity was the only thing that repulsed her, and no one could accuse Bazarov of that.” 

This description of Anna highlights her reserve and her enigmatic nature: She is “cordial and elegant” and prizes the exceptional and the interesting, much like Bazarov himself. Bazarov, in her presence, engages in “affectation”—the first sign that he is attracted to her and trying to make a positive impression. His failure is like a “foul odor,” because he cannot handle a woman who is his intellectual equal.

“‘Especially me, a future medic, a medic’s son, and a sexton’s grandson […] did you know I’m the grandson of a sexton? Like Speransky,’ he said, pursing his lips after a brief silence. ‘Still, she has pampered herself, oh, how this lady has pampered herself! Maybe we should put on our frockcoats?’” 

Bazarov is particularly aware of class distinctions as he and Arkady embark on their adventure at Nikolskoe. As the widow of a wealthy landowner, Anna is in a superior social position to both younger men. Bazarov is conscious of his low status—his father is a doctor and his grandfather was a church sexton—so he egotistically compares himself to the famous low-born statesman Mikhail Speransky, a noted liberal who theorized a system of legislative governance for Russia and also codified its laws. Bazarov implies that he, too, is destined for greatness and fame.

“Her imagination even exceeded the boundaries of what’s permissible according to the laws of conventional morality; but even then her blood flowed as quietly as ever in her charmingly graceful and tranquil body. Sometimes, upon emerging from a fragrant bath, all warm and soft, she’d fall to musing about the insignificance of life, its sadness, travail, and evil…Her soul would be filled with unexpected boldness and seethe with unexpected boldness and seethe with noble aspiration; but a draught of wind would blow in from a half open window and Anna Sergeevna would retreat into herself, complain, and feel almost angry; the only thing she needed in that moment was for the nasty wind to stop blowing on her.” 

Some aspects of Anna’s personality are similar to Bazarov’s. She thinks beyond “conventional morality” though her radicalism is more hidden, a secret to all but the omniscient narrator. She contemplates deeper questions, like the state of the world, as Bazarov claims to. But her “noble aspiration” quickly dissipates when she confronts any physical discomfort or challenge to her life of luxury. Deep concerns quickly give way to “irritation” about a passing breeze, suggesting she is easily distracted, even fickle. Bazarov points this out when her materialism when he criticizes her luxurious lifestyle. Their differences—his single-mindedness versus her distractibility—explains why they are drawn to each other, but their relationship does not last.

“Anna stretched out both her arms, while Bazarov pressed his forehead against the window. He was breathing hard; his whole body was trembling visibly. But it was not the trembling of youthful timidity or the sweet fretting over a first declaration of love that overcame him; it was passion struggling within him—powerful and painful—passion that resembled malice and was perhaps even related to it. Anna was both afraid of him and felt sorry for him.”

Bazarov and Anna react physically to his declaration of love; the latter loses his usual composed detachment. Bazarov’s passion is not tender or even entirely sympathetic—it is not “sweet” or “youthful,” and he feels no relief from being honest or authentic. Instead, his experience is “painful,” lacking any joy. Even more tellingly, his passion “resembled malice”: Bazarov may be overwhelmed by Anna, but he is a threat to her, and she recognizes this, as her pity mingles with fear. Though Bazarov is a central figure in the novel, he is not a hero—his union with Anna could not resolve his internal conflicts.

“At this point he hesitated and became so confused he sat on his hat. However, when no one turned him away and Anna Sergeevna even introduced him to her aunt and sister, he quickly recovered and began chatting merrily. The appearance of mediocrity is sometimes a useful thing in life: it soothes strings that have been stretched too taut and it sobers emotions that have become too self-confident or forgetful, suggesting their own close proximity to the mediocre. With Sitnikov’s arrival everything became somehow duller—and simpler; everyone even ate a heartier supper and toddled off to bed half an hour earlier than usual.” 

Sitnikov provides obvious comic relief to the dark discomfiture between Anna and Bazarov. The image of him sitting on his hat as he realizes his social errors is particularly funny, and his arrival is “the appearance of mediocrity” that alleviates the gloom surrounding the inhabitants of Nikolskoe who have been carried away by passion. The idea that this tumult has “proximity to the mediocre” reinforces Sitnikov’s comedic function: The others cannot take themselves too seriously in his presence. They eat and drink as usual, brought back to everyday life and removed from their interpersonal drama.

“‘Since you don’t quite understand me, let me inform you of the following: in my opinion it’s better to break rocks on a roadway than to let a woman gain control of even the tip of one’s little finger. That’s all […]’ Bazarov nearly uttered his favorite word, romanticism, but restrained himself and said ‘nonsense.’ ‘You won’t believe me now but let me say this: you and I fell into the society of women and found it very pleasant; forsaking society of that sort is like splashing yourself with water on a hot day. Men have no time to waste on such trifles.’”

Bazarov’s encounters with Anna have only increased his disdain for women and romantic love. He claims that even intensive manual labor is preferable, and equates any relationship with a woman as ceding “control.” His misogyny portrays female company as “pleasant,” but insists that escaping it is refreshing, like relief from extreme heat. Bazarov may claim to support social transformation, but he resists it entirely when it comes in the form of personal attachments.

“‘Well, perhaps, perhaps. I don’t want to argue. Besides, what am I? A retired army doctor, voyla-too; and now I’ve become an agronomist. I served in your grandfather’s regiment,’ he said, turning once again to Arkady. ‘Yes sir; yes sir; I’ve seen quite a bit in my time, I have. I’ve been in society, known all sorts of people! I, myself, the man you see before you now, have shaken the hands and felt the pulse of both Prince Wittgenstein and Zhukovsky!’” 

Bazarov’s father, like Nikolai, puts preserving his relationship with his son over politics, even as he is obviously a traditional, old-fashioned man. Vassily displays a strong sense of class-consciousness: His interjection of French is a sporadic and poorly accented affectation for Arkady’s benefit, he points out his familiarity with Arkady’s grandfather, and he insists that however lowly his current position, he has known great men such as a field marshal from the Napoleonic Wars and a famous translator. This effort evokes pity, demonstrating the depth of Vassily’s deep regard for his son and his strong desire to impress him and his friends.

“I must tell you […] I idolize my son, as for the old woman; you know how mothers are! But I never express my feelings in his presence because he doesn’t like it. He objects to all emotional outbursts; many people condemn him for such severity of character and consider it as a sign of arrogance or lack of feeling; but it’s not appropriate to judge people like him by ordinary standards, isn’t that right?” 

Bazarov’s father tells Arkady that he “idolizes” his son—a word choice that explicitly invokes worship as much as it does familial love. Vassily is in thrall to his son’s preferences to the point that he hides his own feelings. He does tacitly admit that Bazarov’s behavior might be “arrogant,” but does his best to dismiss this. Vassily hopes his son is above “ordinary standards.” Vassily, then, accepts the nobility of the Byronic hero, but he also seeks reassurance: he wants to hear from another devotee that his approach is correct and his worship is warranted.

“‘The tiny space I occupy is so small compared to the rest of space, where I am not and things have nothing to do with me; and the amount of time in which I get to live my life is so insignificant compared to eternity, where I’ve never been and won’t ever be… Yet in this atom, this mathematical point, blood circulates, a brain functions and desires something as well… How absurd! What nonsense!’ ‘Let me say that what you’re arguing can be applied to all people in general […]’ ‘You’re right,’ said Bazarov, interrupting him. ‘I was trying to say that they, that is, my parents, are occupied, and don’t worry about their own insignificance; they don’t give a damn about it […] while I, I feel only pain and anger.’” 

Even in his family home, Bazarov is adrift and alienated from those around him. He is preoccupied with larger philosophical questions, such as the vastness of the universe and his own “insignificant” role within it. Insisting that “a brain functions and desires something,” he reduces his personhood to his intellect and describes himself entirely in scientific terms.

“‘You were wrong to respect me in this instance,’ Pavel said with a mournful smile. ‘I’m beginning to think that Bazarov was right when he accused me of aristocratism. No, dear brother, we’ve spent enough time putting on airs and worrying about what other people think; we’ve already become old and tranquil folk; it’s time for us to put aside all vanity. Let’s do our duty, precisely as you say, and see if we can achieve happiness into the bargain.’” 

The duel with Bazarov has transformed Pavel. Being wounded in absurd circumstances has brought him to at least one radical social position: He no longer opposes his brother’s wedding to Fenechka. Further, Pavel finally accepts his generational reality, that he and Nikolai are “old” enough to disregard social convention.

“Exchanging the simplest words with him, even joking, she experienced a slight sense of apprehension. Just as people on a steamship at sea chat and laugh in a carefree manner, as though they were on dry land, but if the slightest interruption occurs, the least indication of something out of the ordinary, each and every face immediately assumes an expression of special alarm, testifying to the constant awareness of constant danger.” 

Bazarov remains a singular threat to Anna’s equilibrium. Even “joking” with him makes her nervous: All conversations with him are complicated. The analogy of a steamship at sea underscores her “constant awareness of constant danger,” as the sea can prove disorderly at any moment. Whether the danger is merely that of unsanctioned passion, or deeper, is somewhat ambiguous. What is certain is that Bazarov is a disruptive force, which Anna may be drawn to but also resists.

“There’s no arrogance in you, no malice; there’s only youthful audacity and youthful fervor; that’s not commensurate to our task. You aristocrats can never get any further than noble submission or noble indignation, and all that’s nonsense. You, for instance, you won’t fight—yet you think you’re a fine fellow—but we want to fight. The dust we raise will blind your eyes, our mud will splatter you; but you haven’t reached our level; you admire yourself unconsciously, you take pleasure in abusing yourself; but we find all this boring—give us someone else!” 

In his final long speech to Arkady, Bazarov lays out his grand vision of his own project and his friend’s failures. He emphasizes “arrogance” and “malice” as traits that are essential to his revolutionary vision: Aristocratic values are incompatible with it. Hypocritically, Bazarov insists that his project is for more than one person, at a moment when he is abandoning his most loyal follower and friend.

“Shoving back their caps and tugging their belts, they began talking about their own needs and wants. Alas! Bazarov, who’d shrugged his shoulders contemptuously, who’d thought he knew how to talk to peasants (so he’d boasted in that argument with Pavel), that same self-confident Bazarov didn’t even suspect that in their eyes he was still something of a laughingstock.” 

Bazarov’s claim to be a populist is proven to be exaggerated and false. As soon as he is out of their presence, the peasants scoff at his attempt to commune with them. Bazarov had previously “boasted” of his own earthiness, but he is unable to see that he himself can be an object of mockery. It is significant that this undercutting of his claims takes place close to the end of the novel, when Bazarov has been abandoned by Arkady and ineffectually angry at himself for falling in love. Even his radical politics have failed to bear fruit, and his death will soon follow.