To understand the underlying ideas and significance of this sketch, one should consider the context in which this story appears. The book is a collection of landscape descriptions and character portraits based on chance encounters with peasants of all sorts and conditions. A few members of the gentry also appear occasionally but always in relation to the peasants, as in “The Bailiff,” in which the narrator recounts an unpleasant and disquieting visit with an acquaintance who embodies the worst qualities of a cruel, self-indulgent landlord. It is perhaps in that story that Turgenev’s opposition to serfdom is most strongly indicated. He never expresses this opposition directly, but the theme is perfectly clear, especially if one views the sketches as parts of a whole. Taken separately, the message in each sketch is presented so subtly that it almost disappears in the wealth of detailed portraiture and description, but even in the seemingly simple and straightforward account of a night spent observing five poor, ignorant, superstitious children, the author’s ideas about his subjects are strongly implied.

Both themes—an indictment of serfdom and a love of the land—are present in “Bezhin Meadow,” though in this particular sketch the latter seems predominant. However, in the tales the boys tell one another, the former is evident, too. For example, twelve-year-old Ilyusha describes the appearance of a goblin in the paper factory where he and nine other boys of his age work; quite matter-of-factly, he tells how the overseer makes the boys spend the night on the floor in the rolling room of the factory so that they will be on hand in good time the next day for an extra amount of work. Ilyusha is more interested in his account of the goblin’s appearance than he is in the working conditions of the peasant, but the reader cannot ignore the significance of Ilyusha’s barely mentioned details about his life. There is no complaining, no self-pity.

The author’s love of his native land is much more explicit, as be describes the countryside, the weather, and the various settings in which the hunter finds himself, such as a cottage, an inn, an estate, a hut, or a meadow next to a river.

Both themes—an indictment of serfdom and a love of the land—are present in “Bezhin Meadow,” though in this particular sketch the latter seems predominant. However, in the tales the boys tell one another, the former is evident, too. For example, twelve-year-old Ilyusha describes the appearance of a goblin in the paper factory where he and nine other boys of his age work; quite matter-of-factly, he tells how the overseer makes the boys spend the night on the floor in the rolling room of the factory so that they will be on hand in good time the next day for an extra amount of work. Ilyusha is more interested in his account of the goblin’s appearance than he is in the working conditions of the peasant, but the reader cannot ignore the significance of Ilyusha’s barely mentioned details about his life. There is no complaining, no self-pity. If the reader, along with the silent hunter, observes the boys closely, the universal qualities of boyhood become evident in all their variety, humor, courage, intelligence, gullibility, and enjoyment of life, however difficult their circumstances. Their pleasure in one another’s company and in the warm, starry night, with the two feisty dogs and the horses close by, is one that any reader can share.