according to Turgenev the first rank in contemporary literature." That
a man whose books never on any page show a single touch of melodrama
should have reached the hearts of so many readers, proves how
interesting is the truthful portrayal of human nature.

George Brandes has well said that the relation of Turgenev to his own
characters is in general the same relation to them held by the reader.
This may not be the secret of his power, but it is a partial
explanation of it. Brandes shows that not even men of genius have
invariably succeeded in making the reader take their own attitude to
the characters they have created. Thus, we are often bored by persons
that Balzac intended to be tremendously interesting; and we often
laugh at persons that Dickens intended to draw our tears. With the
single exception of Bazarov, no such mistake is possible in Turgenev's
work; and the misunderstanding in that case was caused principally by
the fact that Bazarov, with all his powerful individuality, stood for
a political principle. Turgenev's characters are never vague, shadowy,
or indistinct; they are always portraits, with every detail so subtly
added, that each one becomes like a familiar acquaintance in real
life. Perhaps his one fault lay in his fondness for dropping the story
midway, and going back over the previous existence or career of a
certain personage. This is the only notable blemish on his art. But
even by this method, which would be exceedingly irritating in a writer
of less skill, additional interest in the character is aroused. It is
as though Turgenev personally introduced his men and women to the
reader, accompanying each introduction with some biographical remarks
that let us know why the introduction was made, and stir our curiosity
to hear what the character will say. Then these introductions are
themselves so wonderfully vivid, are given with such brilliancy of
outline, that they are little works of art in themselves, like the