10 Quotes from Turgenev’s Letters

The author of Fathers and Sons on hunting, the ideals of youth, self-doubt, and the frantic Troglodyte.

Turgenev’s epistolary legacy is vast: of the thirty volumes in his complete collected works, letters take up eighteen. Turgenev corresponded with people from many different countries—writers, musicians, actors, political figures, casual acquaintances with whom he hunted, or managers he hired to oversee his estate. He conducted this correspondence in Russian and French, periodically switching to German and English.

Researchers are mainly interested in Turgenev’s letters to Russian writers, especially his decades-long, exceptionally trusting correspondence with the critic Pavel Annenkov, as well as with Leo Tolstoy and Nikolay Nekrasov. No less interesting are the love letters to the famous singer Pauline Viardot, the social letters to Countess Elizaveta Lambert, and the discussion of literary news in his correspondence with Gustave Flaubert and Émile Zola. A very diverse Turgenev is revealed in them—rude and ironic, emotional and sentimental.

It is impossible to cover this colossal variety without selecting several volumes. We chose letters from the 1840s–1850s: during this time, Turgenev lived primarily in Russia and maintained contacts mainly with Russian acquaintances. This period of correspondence is the most thoroughly studied and commented upon. Which, of course, does not make his other letters any less significant and interesting.

1. On a Great Misfortune

“A great misfortune has befallen us, Granovsky. I can barely gather the strength to write. We have lost a man whom we loved, in whom we believed, who was our pride and hope… On June 24, in Novi — Stankevich died. I could, I should end the letter here… What remains for me to say — what good are my words to you now? Not for you, but more for myself, I continue the letter: I became close to him in Rome; I saw him every day — and began to appreciate his bright mind, warm heart, the whole charm of his soul… The shadow of imminent death already lay upon him then. We often spoke of death: he acknowledged in it the boundary of thought and, it seemed to me, secretly shuddered. Death has a deep meaning if it emerges — as the final point — from the heart of a full, developed life: to an elder — it is reconciliation; but to us, but to him — a decree of fate. Was he to die? He so deeply, so sincerely recognized and loved the sanctity of life, despite his illness he enjoyed the bliss of thinking, acting, loving: he was preparing to dedicate himself to labor necessary for Russia… The cold hand of death fell on his head, and an entire world perished.”

From a letter to Timofey Granovsky. July 4, 1840

For most readers of his time, Nikolay Stankevich remained a barely noticeable man of letters, the author of a few works: he died of consumption when he was 26. However, Stankevich made a very strong impression on those who knew him personally. In the first half of the 1830s, while he was studying at the Imperial Moscow University, the best educational institution in Russia at the time, a small circle formed around him. Its participants discussed eternal questions about the meaning of life and history, as well as their own psychological motivations and moods. The highest value was considered to be the pursuit of self-improvement. Turgenev was well acquainted with many of them, including Timofey Granovsky, a future professor and specialist in medieval Western European history. In Turgenev’s works, the circle was often depicted as the cause of painful introspection that hindered normal life, but he always considered Stankevich himself to be a model of moral purity and decency: he became the prototype for Pokorsky in the novel Rudin.

2. On Dusty Cabinets, Unicorns, Moors, and the Roaring Lion

“We had a huge house in the village (before, it burned down now). To us children, it seemed like an entire city then. In our part (in our room) stood dusty cabinets of black-painted, homemade work with glass doors: piles of books from the 70s were kept there, in dark brown bindings, upside down, sideways, flat, tied with ropes, covered in dust, and smelling of mice. I was about 8 or 9 years old. I conspired with one of our servants, a young man, even a versifier, to rummage through the coveted cabinets. It was night; we broke the lock, and I, standing on his shoulders, scratching my hands until they bled, retrieved two giants: one he immediately carried away to his place — and I hid the other under the stairs and awaited morning with a pounding heart. My share was the ‘Book of Emblems,’ etc., embossed in the 80s, very thick: on each page were drawn 6 emblems, and opposite them explanations in four languages. I leafed through my great book all day and went to sleep with a whole world of vague images in my head. I forgot many emblems; I remember, for example: ‘Roaring Lion’ — signifies great power; ‘Moor riding a Unicorn’ — signifies a cunning intent (why?) and so on. What a night I had! Unicorns, Moors, kings, suns, pyramids, swords, snakes whirled in a frenzy in my poor head; I myself fell into the emblems, I myself ‘signified’ — was illuminated by the sun, cast into darkness, sat on a tree, sat in a pit, sat in the clouds, sat in a bell tower, and with all my sitting, lying, running, and standing almost caught a fever. A man came to wake me up, and I almost asked him: ‘What kind of emblem are you?’. Since then, I avoided the ‘Book of Emblems’ worse than the devil; and even last year, being in Spasskoye, I picked it up with a shudder.”

From a letter to Mikhail Bakunin and Alexander Efremov. September 3, 8, 1840

The old manor house in Spasskoye-Lutovinovo, where Turgenev spent a significant part of his childhood, burned down in 1839. Turgenev is apparently recalling the years spent in the estate as a child with his brother Nikolay—a man far removed from any poetic interests and impressions. Most noble writers belonging to Turgenev’s generation spent their childhood in family estates and had separate relationships with servants (as in the memory cited). Such descriptions of mysterious, semi-abandoned spaces are very typical for the portrayal of estates in Russian literature—both fiction and memoir. A similar place is described in the novel A Nest of Gentlefolk, where the old book Emblems and Selected Symbols, Translated into Russian, Latin, French, German, and English (1788) is also mentioned.

3. On the Greatest Happiness in Life

“Today is my birthday, and you will easily understand that I could not miss it without reaching out both hands to you. Today I enter my thirty-second year… I am getting old! Today marks exactly seven years since I first met your husband at Major Komarov’s; do you remember that ridiculous creature? Next Tuesday will mark seven years since I was at your place for the first time. And here we have remained friends, and, it seems, good friends. And I am happy to tell you after seven years that I have not seen anything better than you in the world, that meeting you on my path was the greatest happiness of my life, that my devotion, gratitude, and affection for you are boundless and will only die with me. May God bless you a thousand times! I ask him for this on my knees with folded hands in prayer. You are everything that is best, noblest, and dearest to me on earth.

<…> Little Pauline must be on her way from Warsaw to Berlin at this very moment. I hope she arrives well. I have little left to add about her character to what I have already said: I only think that she is more perceptive than I previously thought; in the two weeks of her stay with the Tyutchevs, she seems to have greatly changed for the better. I do not feel much tenderness for her yet; perhaps it will come later. But I am firmly resolved to do everything in my power for her from this time on.”

From a letter to Pauline Viardot. October 26, 28, and 30, 1850

The French opera singer of Spanish origin, Pauline Viardot, was not only the writer’s beloved (Turgenev’s attitude towards her is eloquently expressed in the letter) but also a friend. Turgenev discussed various issues with her—from music, primarily opera (the writer describes in exceptional detail the musical performances he saw in different European cities, paying special attention to the success of individual performers), to relationships with relatives, literary successes, and so on. Apparently, Viardot met Turgenev during her Russian tour. Subsequently, she visited Russia repeatedly, but mainly lived in France, and during the reign of Napoleon III, she moved to Baden-Baden in Germany, living there from 1863 to 1871. Turgenev tried to spend as much time as possible near her—apparently, this was one of the reasons for his frequent departures from Russia. He was friends not only with Pauline herself but also with her husband Louis—and even asked them to take his illegitimate daughter from his mother’s servant for upbringing. Pelageya was sent to study at a Parisian boarding school and renamed Pauline.

4. On 69 Woodcocks, 66 Snipes, 8 Moorhens, and Other Birds

“I will indeed spend the whole winter in Spasskoye — and therefore I hope to correspond with you often. And winter has already arrived — and what a winter! No one remembers such an early winter. It cut off my hunting as if with an axe. On October 1st there were still many woodcocks — on the 2nd they had almost all disappeared. However, with my gun, I killed 304 birds this year, namely — 69 woodcocks, 66 snipes, 39 great snipes, 33 black grouse, 31 partridges, 25 quails, 16 hares, 11 corncrakes, 8 moorhens, 4 ducks, 1 jack snipe, 1 sandpiper. My two hunters killed about 500. — These numbers seem large — but considering how much and how far I traveled — it cannot be said that my hunting was successful. I traveled to Kozelsk and Zhizdra for black grouse, and to Karachev and Epifany for swamp game.”

From a letter to Sergey Aksakov. October 17, 1852

Turgenev understood and loved hunting well. Many of his letters are devoted to describing successes and failures, and discussing plans to go hunting with acquaintances. Among them was Sergey Aksakov—the author of The Scarlet Flower and the father of the Slavophile brothers Konstantin and Ivan Aksakov. His Notes of a Rifle Hunter of the Orenburg Province, like Turgenev’s A Hunter’s Sketches, were published in 1852, the year the letter is dated and in which Turgenev hunted, probably even more often than he wanted.

In the obituary for Gogol, written for the Sankt-Peterburgskie Vedomosti, Turgenev rated his merits too highly, which caused discontent among the local censorship. This did not stop Turgenev, and he printed the forbidden text in the Moskovskie Vedomosti (where the censorship was milder). For the publication, he was punished and exiled to his estate Spasskoye-Lutovinovo.

5. On Home Theatre, Skittles, Boating, and Revelry

“Grigorovich, Druzhinin, and Botkin left me yesterday, having stayed with me for three weeks — and today I am writing to you, which was almost impossible until now. We had a very pleasant and noisy time — performed a farce of our own composition and a parodied scene from Ozerov’s Oedipus on our home stage, in costumes, with decorations, a curtain, an audience, curtain calls, rivalry, and even a small intrigue — in short, with all the trappings of a home theatre; we ate and drank terribly, played billiards, skittles, went boating, rode horses, lied, and talked seriously until 2 a.m. — in short, we reveled; and now I am alone and not averse to resting from this noisy life; if possible, I even intend to work. I will stay here for three weeks; and then I will go into the deepest wilds of Polesie, 250 versts from here — to shoot black grouse.”

From a letter to Pavel Annenkov. June 2, 1855

Despite the frivolous tone, the letter was written at a very tense moment—in the midst of the Crimean War. Turgenev, like many of his contemporaries, reacted violently to its events and seriously thought that he would have to participate in military actions against French and English troops. However, this did not prevent him and other Petersburg men of letters from having fun and composing literary jokes—both friendly and not so much. The prose writer Dmitry Grigorovich, the critic, prose writer, and translator from English Alexander Druzhinin, and another critic and author of a famous literary journey to Spain, Vasily Botkin (brother of the great surgeon), came to Spasskoye-Lutovinovo. The farce mentioned in the letter and composed by the entire company mockingly described Nikolay Chernyshevsky, whom the friends disliked for his sharp judgments, rude tone, and bad manners (Turgenev called him a “simple snake,” and Dobrolyubov a “spectacled snake”). Even greater aversion was caused by Chernyshevsky’s literary theory, which denied the independent significance of art and considered social topical issues more important. Later, Grigorovich would turn this playful text into a novella and publish it, initiating a literary confrontation between radical commoners and more moderate writers, and their feud would be depicted in Fathers and Sons, but much more seriously and objectively.

6. On the Frantic Troglodyte

“Well, I must tell you — what a brother you have! I nicknamed him Troglodyte for his wildness, fierce stubbornness, and idleness — and even frantic Troglodyte — which does not prevent me, however, from loving him wholeheartedly and grumbling at him constantly, like a sensible uncle at a flighty nephew. He has managed to commit many different acts of madness since he arrived — he has not played cards, however — and has not indulged in drunkenness. Sometime I will tell you in detail about all his actions — the reason why he could not leave — and so on. Now I will only say that he read us some excerpts from his new works — excellent ones, and generally — if he himself does not cripple his talent, he will go very far out of sight of all of us. His health is now satisfactory — and I am trying to keep him within four walls. Islavin often visits us — I have grown very fond of him — especially because he himself is very attached to the Troglodyte, about whom we often talk with him, and the matter is not without sighs, rolling eyes to the sky, and shrugs.”

From a letter to Maria and Valerian Tolstoy. December 8, 1855

Turgenev admired Leo Tolstoy’s talent from the moment his novella Childhood was published in 1852, and in 1855, he met him in person when the young officer arrived in Petersburg from Sevastopol. The more experienced Turgenev tried in every way to support the then-young and little-known writer and acted as a mentor, which displeased his protégé and led to conflicts. Turgenev was annoyed by Tolstoy’s addiction to drinking bouts and cards, and Tolstoy was annoyed by Turgenev’s patronizing attitude towards the common people. In 1861, he spoke with indignation about the charity work that Pauline Turgeneva was engaged in. His words are cited in the memoirs of Afanasy Fet: “And I believe that a dressed-up girl holding dirty and foul-smelling rags on her knees is acting out an insincere, theatrical scene.” Apparently, the very fact that Turgenev’s daughter, educated in Paris, could “condescend” to ordinary people seemed insulting to Tolstoy. The enraged Turgenev responded very sharply, and the matter nearly ended in a duel.

7. On Crossing Out

“It seems to be my fate not to contribute anything to the Russian Messenger. I eat terribly (the amount of butter I consume is incomprehensible!). I sleep very well — I read Grote’s history of Greece — and, would you believe it, no thought — the so-called creative thought (though, between us, that word is impermissibly daring — who would dare to say, not as a joke, that he is a creator!?) — in a word, no composition is present in my head. I had started a chapter with the following (such new) words: ‘On a beautiful day’ — then crossed out ‘beautiful’ — then crossed out ‘on a’ — then crossed out everything and wrote in large letters: …mother! and on that, I concluded. But I don’t think the Russian Messenger will be satisfied with that.”

From a letter to Vasily Botkin. May 17, 1856

In his letters, Turgenev very often talks about the process of publishing his texts. Professional men of letters in Russia in the mid-19th century collaborated with “thick journals”—publications in them were the most prestigious (unlike publications in almanacs or separate editions) and well-paid. Turgenev constantly describes the terms of a new contract with a particular publication, discusses fees, asks publishers to send him proofs, and asks friends permanently living in Russia to carefully review the proofs for him (he especially trusted the critic Pavel Annenkov in this, even allowing him to cross out unsuccessful passages).

Unlike Dostoevsky, who lived a very hard life, Turgenev could afford a relatively free relationship with publishers: as the owner of a large estate, he was never on the brink of acute need. At the same time, literary earnings were important to him; moreover, publications in journals were the only path to literary fame at that time. The Russian Messenger of Mikhail Katkov, opened in 1856, sought to attract as many subscribers as possible and invited famous writers, sparing no money. Turgenev was tied up with numerous obligations at the time, especially to Nekrasov’s Sovremennik, and new works were not coming easily. The anecdotal episode with the boring history of Greece will apparently be reflected in the novel On the Eve: one of the heroes tries to read the monumental History of the Hohenstaufen before sleep.

8. On Beginnings Flushed Down the Water Closet

“As for me — I will tell you in your ear, with a request not to blab: besides the promised article to Druzhinin… not a single line of mine will ever be printed (or even written) until the end of time. The day before yesterday I did not burn (because I was afraid of falling into imitation of Gogol), but tore up and threw into the water closet all my beginnings, plans, etc. All this is nonsense. I do not have talent with a distinctive face and integrity — there were poetic strings — but they sounded and faded — I do not want to repeat myself — resignation! This is not an outburst of annoyance, believe me — this is the expression or the fruit of slowly matured convictions. The lack of success of my novellas (reported to me from the most reliable sources, Kolbasin and others) did not tell me anything new. I am retiring; as a writer with tendencies, Mr. Shchedrin will replace me (the public now needs spicy and crude things), and poetic and full natures, like Tolstoy, will complete and fully and clearly present what I only hinted at.”

From a letter to Vasily Botkin. February 17, 1857

Living in Paris and suffering from a painful bladder illness, Turgenev was unsure of how well his new works were being received at home. At that time, the Provincial Sketches of Mikhail Saltykov, who had recently taken the pseudonym Shchedrin, were a huge success. On the pages of this text, the morals of the Russian provinces were depicted with exceptional sharpness and without the slightest condescension. The Provincial Sketches initiated a separate direction—denunciatory literature, which condemned officials, bribe-takers, and embezzlers. Turgenev did not want to write like Shchedrin, and it seemed to him that the time of poetry, that is, deep and objective literature, was in the past. Later, he would decide to leave literature more than once due to misunderstanding by critics and readers—imagined or real—and would inform his friends and acquaintances about it (criticism of Fathers and Sons caused a similar reaction in him). At the same time, there were no significant breaks in his creative work.

9. On Art in Russia and Ignorance

“I met the painter Ivanov here and saw his painting. In terms of depth of thought, force of expression, truth, and honest rigor of execution, it is a first-class work. No wonder he devoted 25 years of his life to it. But there are also shortcomings. The coloring is generally dry and sharp, there is no unity, no air in the foreground (the landscape in the distance is amazing), everything is somewhat motley and yellow. Despite everything, I am sure that the painting will make a great impression (there will be fanatics, although few), and most importantly: one must hope that it will signal a counter-reaction to Bryullov’s ‘Marlinist’ style. <…> Art is still in a bad state in Russia. The other Russian artists here are poor. Sorokin shouts that Raphael is trash and ‘everything’ is trash, but he himself paints nonsense; we know this nasty Russian habit. Their ignorance ruins them all. Ivanov — on the contrary, he is a remarkable man; original, intelligent, truthful, and thoughtful, but it seems to me that he is a little touched: 25 years of solitude took its toll. I will not forget (but this is strictly between us), how he, during a trip to Albano, suddenly began to assure Botkin and me — completely pale and with forced laughter — that he was being poisoned with a slow poison, that he often does not eat, and so on.”

From a letter to Pavel Annenkov. October 31, 1857

Hoping to get rid of his illnesses, Turgenev, together with Vasily Botkin, a famous connoisseur of painting, went to Rome. They met Russian artists living there, among whom was Alexander Ivanov, who was working on the painting The Appearance of Christ to the People. His work made a strong impression on Turgenev. However, he did not like the artist Evgraf Sorokin: Turgenev admired European culture and did not approve of people who despised it.

10. On English and Russian Skins

“I spent the evening at Thomas Carlyle’s. He asked me much about the situation in Russia, about the late Emperor Nicholas, whom he stubbornly considers a great man; I had to speak in English, and, I swear, it was not so simple. In the end, I somehow extricated myself. Carlyle is a man of great intelligence and originality, but he is aging and, as he ages, he gets entangled in one paradox: the bad sides of freedom that he encounters seem unbearable to him, and he has begun to preach submission, submission against all odds. He is very fond of Russians because, according to his idea, they possess the ability to obey in the highest degree, and he was displeased to hear from me that this ability is not as unconditional as he imagined. ‘You have taken away an illusion from me,’ he exclaimed. Now he is writing a history of Frederick the Great, who has been his hero since his youth precisely because he knew how to subdue others. There is a Russian proverb: having burned yourself on milk, you blow on water. I would like to see Carlyle in a Russian’s skin, even for a week; he would sing a different tune. However, he is very nice and good-natured, as is his wife.”

From a letter to Pauline Viardot. June 6, 1857

Turgenev found himself in England, like many of his contemporaries, mainly to meet his old acquaintance, the political émigré Alexander Herzen. At the same time, he met several English men of letters, including the historian Thomas Carlyle, a famous admirer of the heroic principle in history and the autocracy that embodies it. Turgenev, like Herzen, had the opportunity to evaluate what it was like to live under such power, and he regarded Carlyle’s ideas without enthusiasm. Turgenev would visit England several more times, despite a rather ironic attitude towards the English. Here, for example, is his comment about a visit to a local restaurant:

“One of the important butlers, moving silently on the guttapercha soles of his patent leather shoes, brought a silver soup tureen into the dining room and handed it to another; this other, in turn, handed it to a third, and this third — the most important one — placed it in front of me. Then, with the same ceremony, a silver dish also appeared under a silver cover, and there are no words in human language to express with what solemnity the most important butler placed it in front of Zhemchuzhnikov and with some peculiar nasal sounds pronounced: ‘First cotlett.’

<…> …some kind of frenzy suddenly seized me; I hit the table with my fist with all my might and began to shout like a madman: ‘Radish! Pumpkin! Mare! Turnip! Woman! Porridge! Porridge!'”

Sources

• Turgenev I. S. Complete Collected Works and Letters. In 30 vols. Letters. In 18 vols. Vols. 1–4. Moscow, 1982–1987.
• Fokin P. E. Turgenev Without Glamour. St. Petersburg, 2009.
• I. S. Turgenev in the Memoirs of Contemporaries. Moscow, 1983.
• Chronicle of the Life and Work of I. S. Turgenev (1818–1858). St. Petersburg, 1995.
• Chronicle of the Life and Work of I. S. Turgenev (1859–1862). St. Petersburg, 2018.
• Correspondence of I. S. Turgenev. Moscow, 1986.