Pavel Petrovich Kirsanov Character Analysis

“What is Bazarov?” Arkady smiled. “Would you like me to tell you, uncle, what he is exactly?”

“Please do, nephew.”

“He is a nihilist!”

“A what?” asked Nikolai Petrovich, while his brother lifted his knife in the air with a small piece of butter on the tip and remained motionless.

“He is a nihilist,” repeated Arkady.

“A nihilist,” said Nikolai Petrovich. “That comes from the Latin nihil - nothing, I imagine; the term must signify a man who . . . who recognizes nothing?”

“Say - who respects nothing,” put in Pavel Petrovich, and set to work with the butter again.

“Who looks at everything critically,” observed Arkady.

“Isn’t that exactly the same thing?” asked Pavel Petrovich.

“No, it’s not the same thing. A nihilist is a person who does not take any principle for granted, however much that principle may be revered.”

“But remember the sort of education he had, the period in which he grew up,” Arkady rejoined.

“The sort of education he had!” Bazarov exclaimed. “Everyone ought to educate himself—as I’ve done, for instance . . . And as to the times we live in, why should I depend upon them? Much better they should depend upon me. No, my dear fellow, all that is just empty thinking! And what are these mysterious relations between a man and a woman? We physiologists know what they are. You study the anatomy of the eye; and where does that enigmatic look you talk about come in? That’s all romantic rot, mouldy aesthetics. We had much better go and inspect that beetle.”

“We saw that our clever men, our so-called progressives and reformers never accomplished anything, that we were concerning ourselves with a lot of nonsense, discussing art, unconscious creative work, parliamentarianism, the bar, and the devil knows what, while all the time the real question was getting daily bread to eat, when the most vulgar superstitions are stifling us, when our industrial enterprises come to grief solely for want of honest men at the top, when even the emancipation of the serfs - the emancipation the government is making such a fuss about - is not likely to be to our advantage, since those peasants of ours are only too glad to rob even themselves to drink themselves silly at the gin-shop.”

“We shall fire two shots and, as a precaution, let each of us put a letter in his pocket, holding himself responsible for his own demise […] So everything is arranged—By the way, I don’t suppose you have pistols?”

“How should I have pistols? I am not a fighting man.”

“In that case I offer you mine. You may rest assured that I have not shot with them these five years.”

“That is very comforting news.” Pavel Petrovich picked up his cane… “And now, my dear sir, it only remains for me to thank you and leave you to resume your studies. I have the honour to bid you good-day.’

“Until we have the pleasure of meeting again, my dear sir,” said Bazarov, escorting his visitor to the door.

“What is Bazarov?” Arkady smiled. “Would you like me to tell you, uncle, what he is exactly?”

“Please do, nephew.”

“He is a nihilist!”

“A what?” asked Nikolai Petrovich, while his brother lifted his knife in the air with a small piece of butter on the tip and remained motionless.

“He is a nihilist,” repeated Arkady.

“A nihilist,” said Nikolai Petrovich. “That comes from the Latin nihil - nothing, I imagine; the term must signify a man who . . . who recognizes nothing?”

“Say - who respects nothing,” put in Pavel Petrovich, and set to work with the butter again.

“Who looks at everything critically,” observed Arkady.

“Isn’t that exactly the same thing?” asked Pavel Petrovich.

“No, it’s not the same thing. A nihilist is a person who does not take any principle for granted, however much that principle may be revered.”

“But remember the sort of education he had, the period in which he grew up,” Arkady rejoined.

“The sort of education he had!” Bazarov exclaimed. “Everyone ought to educate himself—as I’ve done, for instance . . . And as to the times we live in, why should I depend upon them? Much better they should depend upon me. No, my dear fellow, all that is just empty thinking! And what are these mysterious relations between a man and a woman? We physiologists know what they are. You study the anatomy of the eye; and where does that enigmatic look you talk about come in? That’s all romantic rot, mouldy aesthetics. We had much better go and inspect that beetle.”

“We saw that our clever men, our so-called progressives and reformers never accomplished anything, that we were concerning ourselves with a lot of nonsense, discussing art, unconscious creative work, parliamentarianism, the bar, and the devil knows what, while all the time the real question was getting daily bread to eat, when the most vulgar superstitions are stifling us, when our industrial enterprises come to grief solely for want of honest men at the top, when even the emancipation of the serfs - the emancipation the government is making such a fuss about - is not likely to be to our advantage, since those peasants of ours are only too glad to rob even themselves to drink themselves silly at the gin-shop.”

“We shall fire two shots and, as a precaution, let each of us put a letter in his pocket, holding himself responsible for his own demise […] So everything is arranged—By the way, I don’t suppose you have pistols?”

“How should I have pistols? I am not a fighting man.”

“In that case I offer you mine. You may rest assured that I have not shot with them these five years.”

“That is very comforting news.” Pavel Petrovich picked up his cane… “And now, my dear sir, it only remains for me to thank you and leave you to resume your studies. I have the honour to bid you good-day.’

“Until we have the pleasure of meeting again, my dear sir,” said Bazarov, escorting his visitor to the door.