One of the few Russians who did not try to preach and to win over the reader to some credo or idea, Turgenev became suspect even as a chronicler of his society. Russian critics had always interpreted Turgenev’s novels as illustrations of the evolutionary process within the native educated classes between 1850 and 1880. Rudin (1855) represented the idealist of the forties, Lavretzky (1858) was typical of the fifties, _On the Eve_ (1860) conveyed the atmosphere of expectation before the era of great reforms, and Bazarov in _Fathers and Sons_ (1861) personified the new generation of nihilists. Later _Smoke_ (1867) and _Virgin Soil_ (1877) reflected the political debate and the beginnings of the populist movement. Already during Turgenev’s lifetime his pictures of Russia started numerous discussions, and, as Edward Garnett said in his essay in 1917, provoked much angry heat and raised great clouds of acrimonious smoke because the defenders and the detractors of the writer disagreed about the historical accuracy of his representation. And fifty years after his death his importance as a social realist was questioned again. His portrayals of superfluous men afflicted by idleness or paralysis of the will seemed particularly inappropriate at a time when the Revolution had unleashed such an astounding amount of energy in Russia and transformed the whole country into an immense workshop. Not only was Turgenev lacking in “publicity value” but when things Russian were popular or when everybody was trying to solve the riddles of Russia’s present regime, Turgenev could hardly help. Charles Morgan said in this connection that Turgenev was too unspectacular, too moderate and patient in spirit. Besides, his protagonists did not look like ancestors of twentieth-century Russians (again excepting Bazarov). And this led to an obvious conclusion: his novels and tales belonged to another age, they were visions of the past, and theirs was the quaint charm of early daguerreotypes in period frames. Turgenev was old fashioned, dated, and offered only an historical interest. Of course, it would be erroneous to identify any work of fiction with a straight representation of reality, but in Turgenev’s case it was assumed that, while not making an exception to the rule, he was especially insensitive to Russia’s historical development. He could not foresee its future and never went beyond the limitations of the small social group to which he belonged and which he depicted with an almost annoying monotony.