matchless pen portraits of Carlyle.

Another reason why Turgenev's characters are so interesting, is
because in each case he has given a remarkable combination of
individual and type. Here is where he completely overshadows
Sudermann, even Ibsen, for their most successful personages are
abnormal. Panshin, for example, is a familiar type in any Continental
city; he is merely the representative of the young society man. He is
accomplished, sings fairly well, sketches a little, rides horseback
finely, is a ready conversationalist; while underneath all these
superficial adornments he is shallow and vulgar. Ordinary
acquaintances might not suspect his inherent vulgarity--all Lisa knows
is that she does not like him; but the experienced woman of the world,
the wife of Lavretsky, understands him instantly, and has not the
slightest difficulty in bringing his vulgarity to the surface.
Familiar type as he is,--there are thousands of his ilk in all great
centres of civilisation,--Panshin is individual, and we hate him as
though he had shadowed our own lives. Again, Varvara herself is the
type of society woman whom Turgenev knew well, and whom he both hated
and feared; yet she is as distinct an individual as any that he has
given us. He did not scruple to create abnormal figures when he chose;
it is certainly to be hoped that Maria, in "Torrents of Spring," is
abnormal even among her class; but she is an engine of sin rather than
a real woman, and is not nearly so convincingly drawn as the simple
old mother of Bazarov.

Turgenev represents realism at its best, because he deals with souls
rather than with bodies. It is in this respect that his enormous
superiority over Zola is most clearly shown. When "L'Assommoir" was
published, George Moore asked Turgenev how he liked it, and he