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 How Count L. N. Tolstoy 
 Lives and Works
 
 COUNT AND COUNTESS TOLSTOY 
 SEPTEMBER, 1895
 
 How Count L. N. Tolstoy 
 Lives and Works 
 
 By 
 P. A. SERGYEENKO 
 
 Translated from the Russian^ 
 
 By 
 ISABEL F. HAPGOOD 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO. 
 PUBLISHERS
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1899, 
 BY THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO.
 
 tra 
 
 .{:/: f < 
 
 MM 24 1910 
 
 HOW COUNT TOLSTOY LIVES 
 AND WORKS 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 ABOUT four o'clock in the afternoon, in the win- 
 ter of 1892, I was sitting with my friends the 
 A.'s, who had arrived in Moscow on the previous eve- 
 ning from their estate in the south. Several other guests 
 besides myself were seated at the tea table engaged in a 
 lively conversation about one of Lyeff Tolstoy's latest 
 works. 
 
 Out of doors a fine snow was falling and in the room 
 the twilight was gathering. 
 
 Just as the discussion had reached its height, a gaunt 
 old man, of medium stature and with the typical face of 
 the Russian peasant, entered the room. He wore a short, 
 sheepskin coat and tall felt boots. As he entered he 
 said, "Good-afternoon," removed his felt cap, and be- 
 gan to unwind from his throat a woolen scarf. 
 
 From the table where we sat, we could not see the 
 door plainly, and the A.'s stared with curiosity and 
 surprise at the newcomer. 
 
 Suddenly the hostess's face beamed with delight, and 
 she said, in a drawling voice : 
 
 " Lyeff Nikolaevitch ! how do you do ? " 
 
 All rose to their feet. 
 
 It was Count L. N. Tolstoy. He untied his scarf, 
 and, with a brisk, youthful movement, threw off his 
 fur coat, casting sharp glances about as he did so in 
 search of a place to lay it. 
 
 I beheld L. N. Tolstoy for the first time, and, invol- 
 untarily, riveted my eyes upon him. He was clad in
 
 2 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 
 
 a dark gray flannel blouse with a wide, turn-down col- 
 lar, displaying his sinewy neck at the curves of the 
 head. He was breathing rather fast from his walk in 
 the cold air, and his gray hair lay in damp, tumbled 
 locks upon his temples. He had an alert, wide-awake 
 air, held himself upright, and moved with quick, short 
 steps, hardly bending his knees, which suggested the 
 motion of a man sliding upon ice. He appeared neither 
 older nor younger than his age he was then sixty-four 
 and produced the impression of a well-preserved, en- 
 ergetic peasant. And his face, also, was a true peasant's 
 face : simple, rustic, with a broad nose, a weather-beaten 
 skin, and thick, overhanging brows, from beneath which 
 small, keen, gray eyes peered sharply forth. 
 
 But the expression of his eyes was unusual, and in- 
 voluntarily attracted attention. In them seemed to be 
 concentrated all the vivid tokens of Tolstoy's person- 
 ality; and he who has not seen those eyes flash and 
 blaze, who has not seen them suddenly acquire a sort 
 of boring and penetrating character, cannot possess a 
 full conception of L. N. Tolstoy's external appearance. 
 
 Although the majority of his portraits reproduce his 
 external features with considerable success, so that 
 L. N. Tolstoy may instantly be recognized from them, 
 yet not one of them gives a clear idea of the core of his 
 personality, not one transmits those fountains of light 
 hidden in the man, which, when they are reflected upon 
 his countenance at certain moments, illuminate it with 
 the gleam of the inner life. This defect in the p6rtraits 
 of L. N. Tolstoy must be charged, in part, to his account. 
 Because of the qualities of his vivacious, impatient na- 
 ture, he presents a difficult subject for the artist. The 
 artist must carry in himself a certain engraved expres- 
 sion, and never seek it again at the time of actual 
 work. 
 
 After he had hung up his fur coat, L. N. Tolstoy 
 approached us and began to exchange greetings. In 
 spite of his modest attire, one instantly divines in Lyeff 
 Nikolaevitch a man of the highest society, well-bred, 
 with polished, unconstrained manners.
 
 LIVES AND WORKS j 
 
 We were introduced to each other. 
 
 L. N. Tolstoy bent down slightly, as though trying 
 to scrutinize my face, and said courteously : 
 
 " Pray excuse me for not having written to you in 
 regard to your article which you sent to me." 
 
 Several months previously I had sent to L. N. Tol- 
 stoy my article about a certain priest, who was extermi- 
 nating drunkenness among the masses by his sermons. 
 
 In this connection I had written to L. N. Tolstoy a 
 few lines about the sympathetic personality of the priest. 
 I was pleasantly surprised that, amid his extensive occu- 
 pations, he had forgotten neither my modest work nor 
 my name, and I said : 
 
 "You probably had your reasons for so doing." 
 
 "Yes, yes, you are right," he replied, seating himself 
 and pointing me to a place beside him. " There is a 
 very great deal to say on the subject with which you \v 
 dealt in your article. I had no leisure at the time, and \^ 
 I made up my mind that when I came to Moscow I % ^ 
 would manage to call upon you and talk it over." ^^ 
 
 And, picking up a pencil which was lying on the table 
 and swiftly twirling it about in his fingers, Lyeff Niko- 
 laevitch began to talk about the thing which then inter- &^. 
 ested me most. He talked without constraint, cleverly yjp 
 and picturesquely, in the same richly colored language 
 in which he writes, easily reasoning and easily discuss- 
 ing the most complicated situations. It was difficult 
 to answer him. He seemed to have at his disposal a 
 whole arsenal of the clearest, boldest, most original, and 
 utterly unexpected arguments, with pertinent compari- 
 sons and humorous interpolations, which evoked invol- 
 untary laughter. Yet, nevertheless, I could not in the 
 least agree with some of his positions, and I tried to 
 reply. He refuted my objections on the instant, with- 
 out ceasing to twirl the pencil, and hastily brought for- 
 ward his own ideas, which breathed forth ingenuity, 
 power, and passion. The conversation at last became 
 general and turned upon other themes. 
 
 The corridor servant brought the bubbling samovar. 
 Madame A. offered Lyeff Nikolaevitch tea, but he cat-
 
 4 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 
 
 egorically refused it, and cast a hostile glance at the 
 battery of preserve jars which stood on the table ; then 
 he turned his gaze to the good-natured face of the 
 hostess, and his stern features softened. He began, in a 
 friendly tone, to talk to her about her work in wool 
 (she had been engaged in preparing yarn during the 
 conversation), and about the vegetarian kitchen which 
 Madame A. was planning to build in Moscow. On en- 
 countering my glance, Lyeff Nikolaevitch began to talk 
 about the advantage of vegetable food, and advised me 
 to leave off eating meat; then he appealed to Mr. A. 
 concerning some new influences in the realm of law 
 (A. is a jurist-theorist, absorbed in juridical science), 
 and then, gradually, he entered into conversation with 
 each person present about the thing which most inter- 
 ested them, evidently fearing that he might omit some 
 one or other from his attention. 
 
 The conversation turned upon one of his sons, who, at 
 the moment, was seeking an estate, for purchase. 
 
 " Lyeff Nikolaevitch, tell your son that when he has 
 decided upon any estate, he is to apply to me. I will 
 give him some indispensable hints, otherwise he may 
 commit follies." 
 
 Lyeff Nikolaevitch shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 44 Why prevent him ? The more follies he commits, 
 the better it will be for him." 
 
 I did not understand the sense of these words, and 
 asked, " Why will it be the better for him ? " 
 
 " Because the sooner he sets his teeth on edge with 
 estates, and at last convinces himself, from his personal 
 experience, that nothing good will come from this, the 
 quicker will he attain to the comprehension of the fact 
 that the only person for whom it is profitable to hold 
 land is the man who tills it himself." 
 
 " Very good, if it does turn out so," I remarked, " but 
 failures do not always lead us to the truth. Sometimes 
 they merely enrage a man, and spoil his character." 
 
 L. N. Tolstoy darted a sharp glance from beneath 
 his gray, beetling brows. 
 
 " My son is not in that path," he ejaculated abruptly.
 
 LIVES AND WORKS 5 
 
 And it seemed to me that a sort of shadow came be- 
 tween us. 
 
 Having exhausted the subject of the purchase of an 
 estate, Lyeff Nikolaevitch laid the pencil on the table, 
 and clasped his hands, with the fingers interlocking. 
 His overhanging brows drooped still lower, and his face 
 assumed a locked-up expression. The conversation evi- 
 dently had wearied him, and he only listened to his 
 interlocutor out of politeness. When the latter had 
 finished, Lyeff Nikolaevitch asked the hour, and rose. 
 
 But before his departure a characteristic episode took 
 place. In the course of conversation with one of the 
 persons present, Lyeff Nikolaevitch mentioned Bertha 
 Suttner's famous book, Die Waff en nieder ! and said, 
 " Of course you have read the book ? " 
 
 The man nodded his head in assent. But his con- 
 science must have tormented him for telling Lyeff Ni- 
 kolaevitch an untruth, and he stammered out : 
 
 "Lyeff Nikolaevitch, I really am acquainted with 
 the contents of that book, Away with Arms! But I 
 have not yet read the book itself." 
 
 L. N. Tolstoy changed the subject, and began to take 
 leave. But it seemed to me that he was greatly touched 
 by his interlocutor's confession, and that he fully appre- 
 ciated the significance of the conquest over himself 
 which the man had made. 
 
 Lyeff Nikolaevitch put on his short fur coat, hooked 
 it up tightly, and putting himself to rights in peasant 
 fashion with a movement of the shoulders he began 
 to don and praise the mittens of goat's wool given to 
 him by Madame A. ; then he made a general salute, 
 and left the room with accelerated steps. 
 
 He was in haste to get home to dinner, and he had 
 several versts to traverse before he reached Weaver's 
 Lane, where he lives. He does not like to ride in cabs, 
 and has recourse to them only in exceptional cases.
 
 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 A WEEK after my first meeting with L. N. Tolstoy, I 
 availed myself of his invitation, and about eight o'clock 
 in the evening drove, in company with the A.'s, to Dol- 
 go-Khamovnitcheskiy Pereulok (Long-Weaver's Lane), 
 where the Tolstoys live in winter. They occupy a 
 separate two-story wooden house, belonging to one of 
 Lyeff Nikolaevitch's sons, Lyeff Lvovitch. 
 
 The small, isolated two-story house to which we drove 
 up was situated in a courtyard, and stood out as a dark 
 mass against the whitish background of the ancient gar- 
 den, sprinkled with hoar frost. The outer principal 
 door, and the second door, with a stiff spring, were not 
 fastened. Through ignorance I let this second door 
 go, and it produced a deafening bang, which brought 
 out a courteous lackey in dress-suit, who began to help 
 us off with our outer wraps. 
 
 The A.'s were, in part, acquainted with the ways of 
 the house at the Tolstoys', and thought that no one but 
 ourselves would be there that evening. 
 
 But in the anteroom, on the cloak-rack, there were 
 many outer garments, and to the right, upon the wall- 
 chests and the pier-tables, lay a motley collection of all 
 sorts of caps, fur caps and uniform caps. The servant 
 softly inquired of us, Whom were we come to visit, the 
 Count or the Countess ? 
 
 The A.'s said that we had come to see the Count 
 The servant announced us, and, a moment later, returned 
 with an invitation from the Count. 
 
 On the landing of the broad staircase, with one turn, one 
 of Lyeff Nikolaevitch's daughters met us. She greeted 
 us unconstrainedly, like intimate friends, and conducted 
 us through the large hall where sat several ladies and 
 gentlemen. From the hall we entered a narrow corri-
 
 dor, descended several steps, and found ourselves in a 
 small, low-studded room, with an iron pipe extending 
 across it close to the ceiling. This arrangement of the 
 pipe is due to one of L. N. Tolstoy's acquaintances ; its 
 peculiarity consists in the fact that, with the aid of a 
 lamp, it ventilates and, in part, heats the working cabi- 
 net capitally. 
 
 Lyeff Nikolaevitch was sitting at a small writing- 
 table, with his foot tucked up under him, engaged in 
 writing something by the light of a candle. At our ap- 
 pearance he rose, and began to exchange courteous 
 greeting, sometimes raising his hand on high, and low- 
 ering it again with a gentle movement ; then he gave us 
 seats, and began to talk about the book which lay open 
 before him, and which he was reading after dinner. It was 
 a new French book on social questions. Its style pleased 
 him, as did some individual ideas in it, but, on the whole, 
 he did not find it satisfactory, and he began to explain 
 precisely why it did not satisfy him. 
 
 The solitary candle left the study rather dark, and 
 the corners were submerged in gloom. I involuntarily 
 cast a glance around the room, where so many immortal 
 images had had their birth and been created. 
 
 It was a small, almost square chamber wholly without 
 decorations, with a low ceiling and broad windows, 
 which looked out on the garden. Beside one window 
 stood a small, plain table covered with papers, and a 
 half-empty bookcase. 
 
 Lyeff Nikolaevitch's library is at Yasnaya Polyana, 
 and in Moscow he keeps only reference books dealing 
 with the subject on which he is working. In another 
 corner of the study was a broad divan, covered with oil- 
 cloth, and by the side of the divan stood a small, round 
 table and a few arm-chairs, and this constituted the entire 
 furniture of the study, which recalled in its simplicity 
 the workroom of Pascal, for whom L. Tolstoy cherishes 
 a profound respect in general ; and in many points 
 he appears as the follower of the French philosopher in 
 the matter of habits, as well as in the realm of thought. 
 For some time I could not get my bearings, or decide at
 
 8 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 
 
 what height from the earth we were, because the road 
 to the study was rather complicated. 
 
 Afterward I learned that Lyeff Nikolaevitch's study 
 lies, as it were, between heaven and earth. The fact is 
 that when, in the beginning of the '80' s, the whole house 
 was in process of being rebuilt, Lyeff Nikolaevitch did 
 not wish to yield his study as a sacrifice to the god of 
 luxury, and assured the Countess that many extremely 
 useful workers lived and labored in incomparably 
 worse quarters than he. The study was left in its pre- 
 vious condition, but this spoiled the side facade of the 
 house facing the garden. On the other hand, as regards 
 quiet and tranquillity, the study was the gainer thereby. 
 Far removed from the street noises, and the dwelling- 
 rooms, it is always filled with that stillness which is con- 
 ducive to meditation. In the spacious, ancient garden, 
 upon which the study windows look out, a skating-place 
 is arranged in winter ; and there, among other things, is 
 situated the well of pure, healthful water, whence Lyeff 
 Nikolaevitch, for lack of other physical labor at hand, 
 draws water and drives it in a cask for the household 
 needs. 
 
 Lyeff Nikolaevitch was in an excellent frame of mind. 
 Over his finely modeled lips, unconcealed by mustaches, 
 flitted a smile every moment, accompanying humorous 
 interpolations. 
 
 Before I knew him, judging from his portraits, I had 
 always regarded Lyeff Nikolaevitch as a man locked up 
 within himself, and rather gloomy. This is not true. 
 He is very sociable, talkative, likes a jest, highly prizes 
 humor, and readily has recourse to it. 
 
 During the conversation in the study, one of Lyeff 
 Nikolaevitch's daughters entered and said : 
 
 " Papa, N. has come, and is waiting for you, in order 
 to read the article he promised." 
 
 Lyeff Nikolaevitch rose and addressed us : 
 
 " Do not go away until I return. Here are the new 
 journals. Here is an interesting manuscript of a com- 
 mon working-man. But I must go and listen to the 
 nonsense which N. has written."
 
 LIVES AND WORKS 9 
 
 I was rather surprised by Lyeff Nikolaevitch's pre- 
 diction concerning the work of N., who is considered 
 one of the most talented of Russian writers. 
 
 About forty minutes later, Lyeff Nikolaevitch re- 
 turned, accompanied by two new visitors, and was visibly 
 excited, somewhat suggesting a man who has escaped 
 from captivity. 
 
 " I thought so," he began in a rather vexed tone, 
 " that N. would regale us with twaddle. But his new 
 nonsense is utterly absurd. At the same time, it is evi- 
 dent that he has expended not a little exertion and 
 thought upon it. And what an overwhelming phenome- 
 non this is, in fact ! " proceeded Lyeff Nikolaevitch, in a 
 sorrowful tone. " If it were not a sin, I should sometimes 
 like to say, in reproach : ' O Lord, why dost Thou 
 reveal much to one man, so that it is plainer to him, 
 than that twice two makes four ? And from other men 
 Thou concealest everything. And in all their being 
 there is not so much as one tiny crack through which 
 Thy light can penetrate ? ' ' 
 
 We heard the rustle of a gown at the door, and Coun- 
 tess Sophia Andreevna, Lyeff Nikolaevitch's wife, 
 entered the study with light, swift tread. She had come 
 to invite her husband's guests up-stairs, to the " big " 
 tea, so called to distinguish it from the " children's " tea. 
 
 Countess Sophia Andreevna, Bers by birth, is sixteen 
 years younger than her famous husband. At the time 
 of which I speak, she was forty-eight years of age. In 
 spite of the fact that she has had thirteen children, 1 her 
 aspect is still very youthful and full of life. She has an 
 open, expressive countenance, with vivacious, fearless 
 eyes, which she constantly brings near to the objects at 
 which she is looking. At hervery first words, one feels her 
 straightforward nature. In her manners there is not even 
 a shadow of truckling to suit the tone of any one whom- 
 soever, but her own individual note is always audible. 
 
 She cordially invited us all to tea, and, chatting viva- 
 ciously with Madame A. about some domestic question,, 
 conducted us up-stairs. 
 
 1 She told me fifteen. I. F. H.
 
 io HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 
 
 And when she walked, her still beautiful head half 
 turned, when she addressed her husband with the word 
 Lytvotchka, or interjected into the conversation some re- 
 mark, one immediately felt that here reigned, if not har- 
 mony, at least complete independence of relations, and 
 that each person had his own independent position. 
 
 The spacious, lofty hall which we entered was, also, 
 bare of decoration. Almost in the middle of the room 
 stood a long, broad table, covered with a white table- 
 cloth (prepared for tea), and a row of chairs. On the 
 right side of the entrance to the hall stood a grand 
 piano, and a small divan with an oval table. All the 
 furniture was ancient, of mahogany. This constituted 
 the entire decoration. There were neither pictures, nor 
 rugs, nor soft furniture. 
 
 But the room did not appear either empty or neg- 
 lected. Rather than that, a certain indefinable, noble 
 simplicity could be felt in everything. Nothing, in any 
 direction, stood forth in an angle, or thrust itself into 
 notice. On the contrary, the furniture and the hostess 
 and the guests all had a certain peculiar easy and artless 
 character. 
 
 At the end of the table a nickel-plated samovar was 
 singing, and cups, cream, and cold rolls were standing. 
 From the adjoining room, where a richer furnishing was 
 visible, youthful voices, peals of laughter, and the sounds 
 of stringed instruments were audible. 
 
 The Tolstoys have a very large family, and a vast cir- 
 cle of acquaintances. At the time in question, Lyeff 
 Nikolaevitch's family consisted of six sons and three 
 daughters. The young generation were constantly draw- 
 ing about them their comrades, relatives, and friends, in 
 consequence of which, in the Tolstoys' house, one always 
 received the impression that a performance of amateur 
 theatricals had been appointed there and that a whole 
 flower-garden of young people were preparing for this 
 event, filling the entire house with noisy animation in 
 which Lyeff Nikolaevitch also occasionally takes part. 
 Especially if any amusement is started which demands 
 exercise, endurance, and agility, L. N. will, ever and
 
 LIVES AND WORKS n 
 
 anon, glance at the players and share heartily in their 
 successes and failures ; often, too, he cannot restrain 
 himself, and mingles in the game, displaying so much 
 youthful fervor and suppleness of muscle that one often 
 grows envious in watching him. Moreover, L. N. Tol- 
 stoy has still another characteristic peculiarity : what- 
 ever he does, whether he runs a race with the young 
 people, or sews shoes, or seats himself on his bicycle, he 
 never, in any situation, is ridicrdous. After introducing 
 us to the other guests Lyeff Nikolaevitch betook himself 
 \) the oval table. His appearance evoked a noticeable 
 animation, and, like a magnet, began to attract people to 
 him. The Countess sat down to the samovar, and, chat- 
 ting vivaciously, began to pour out the tea into large, 
 thick cups. 
 
 Lyeff Nikolaevitch drank no tea, but later on ate some 
 thin oatmeal porridge which he often substitutes for tea 
 and supper. He was no longer the same man as in the 
 study. Charm and mirth seemed to have fallen from 
 him, and it even seemed as though he had grown some- 
 what older since he had come from the study into the 
 hall. When he is fatigued, or is displeased with any- 
 thing, his cheeks sink in and his face assumes a rather 
 gloomy character which is the one chiefly reproduced 
 in his portraits. 
 
 One of those present had heard from some one that 
 L. N. Tolstoy wished to set to work again at his Decem- 
 brists, and asked him about it. 
 
 "No, I have abandoned that work forever," replied 
 Lyeff Nikolaevitch, unwillingly. A pause ensued. 
 
 "... because I did not find therein what I sought, 
 that is to say, what is of general interest to mankind. 
 That whole history had no roots under it," he added, 
 with a shade of effort in his voice, merely to avert the 
 awkwardness of silence. 
 
 He does not like to have people catechize him about 
 his plans. 
 
 Afterward I learned that he had written War and 
 Peace accidentally, as it were, by way of an introduc- 
 tion to the Decembrists. It came about in this way.
 
 12 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 
 
 With the intention of writing the Decembrists, he began 
 to study the epoch which preceded their activity, and 
 with that object made the acquaintance of the famous 
 Ermoloff and visited him. The events of 1805 and the 
 war for the Fatherland in 1812 attracted the artistic 
 feeling of the great writer. He began to group to- 
 gether several episodes and, as it were, to attach them 
 to each other with facts from his family chronicles. 
 
 And the more deeply "the exacting artist" became 
 engrossed in the study of historical materials, the 
 broader grew the plan of his new work, which, at last, 
 took possession of him and occupied five years of in- 
 tense mental labor. But what Lyeff Nikolaevitch has 
 printed constitutes only a small fraction of the work 
 which he projected and wrote. All the rough drafts of 
 War and Peace came near being lost. During a severe 
 and prolonged illness of Countess Sophia Andreevna, 
 these papers, through the carelessness of some persons 
 of the household, were thrown out of the storehouse 
 and lay for several months in the ditch. Thanks alone 
 to the indefatigable energy and solicitude of Countess 
 S. A. Tolstoy, the precious documents were gathered up, 
 put in order, and are now in the Rumyantzoff Muzeum, 
 in Moscow. 
 
 After the Decembrists, the conversation turned upon 
 another of L. N. Tolstoy's unfinished romances Peter 
 the Great. This work Lyeff Nikolaevitch has entirely 
 abandoned. 
 
 " There was much in that first matter which seemed 
 to me too confused and distant," he said. " Neverthe- 
 less, I was personally acquainted with many of the De- 
 cembrists, and could avail myself of their information. 
 But in the other case, I should have had to invent a 
 very great deal. But the principal point is that my 
 study of the original sources entirely altered my view of 
 Peter I. He lost his former interest for me." 
 
 One of those present touched on the " post-Decem- 
 brist " emancipation epoch, and mentioned the brothers 
 Aksakoff, Katkoff, Granovsky, Hertzen, and others, with 
 all of whom Lyeff Nikolaevitch had been personally
 
 LIVES AND WORKS 13 
 
 acquainted. At the name of Hertzen Lyeff Nikolaevitch 
 brightened up, and narrated how he had met him in 
 London. An opinion has gained currency that L. Tol- 
 stoy does not acknowledge that Hertzen had literary 
 gifts. This is untrue. On the contrary, it is precisely 
 his literary gift that he prizes very highly. And when 
 the discussion touched that question, a fervent, youth- 
 fully fresh note rang out in Lyeff Nikolaevitch's weary 
 voice, a note which always makes its appearance with 
 him when he speaks of any genuine gift or fine act. 
 
 " If we were to express by the relations of per- 
 centage," said he, "the influence of our writers upon 
 society, we should obtain, approximately, the following 
 result: Pushkin, thirty per cent; Gogol, fifteen per 
 cent ; Turgeneff, ten per cent." 
 
 L. N. Tolstoy enumerated all the prominent Russian 
 writers, except himself, and, reckoning Hertzen's share 
 at eighteen per cent, he said with conviction : 
 
 " He was brilliant and profound, which is very rarely 
 met with." 
 
 A young artist approached our table. Lyeff Nikolae- 
 vitch entered into conversation with him about his 
 works, and passed on to art, from which he demanded, 
 not bouquets and cupids, but service rendered to the 
 loftiest requirements of the human spirit. He soon 
 passed into a passionate tone, and began to talk warmly, 
 as he did so hastily knotting and untying a bit of string 
 which had happened to come to hand. Some one 
 alluded to the huge picture of a certain Moscow artist. 
 
 "Well, then, take that picture," said Lyeff Nikolae- 
 vitch, excitedly. " Who wants that coarse daub, which 
 simply reeks of the knout? I cannot endure such 
 ' Russian ' productions. And why those stupid phizes ? 
 Who is there that does not know that there are stupid 
 phizes in the world ? But art ought always to say some- 
 thing new, because it is the expression of the artist's 
 inner condition, and only answers its appointed use 
 when the artist gives us something that no one hitherto 
 has given, and which cannot be better expressed in any 
 other way. There is Gay's Christ before Pilate, that
 
 i 4 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 
 
 is genuine art, although the picture is badly painted. 
 But no one before Gay ever said it in that way, and it 
 was impossible to say it by any other means, than as 
 Gay did by his tortured Christ, and his well-fed, fat 
 Pilate. And Christ and Pilate have always and every- 
 where been, and will be, exactly such persons. And see 
 how Gay toils over his subjects ! For tens of years he 
 studied the life of Christ, and not from the external, 
 Palestine side, like others, but from the inside. You 
 would go to him at night, and he would be sitting with 
 rumpled hair, on the divan, reading the Gospels. And 
 there is no other way possible. For art is a vast, a 
 mighty instrument." 
 
 Evidently, the young artist did not wholly agree with 
 Lyeff Nikolaevitch, and he cautiously began to present 
 the idea that, in art, the how, not the what, is important. 
 
 " But, assuredly, Lyeff Nikolaevitch, you recognize 
 prayer ? " he asked irresolutely. 
 
 " Of course. Is it possible to live without prayer ? " 
 
 "Well, then, for the artist his picture may be a 
 prayer. Only, one expresses it by a historical subject, 
 another in fantastic images, a third by landscape." 
 
 "Then wall-paper must be reckoned as art," inter- 
 rupted Lyeff Nikolaevitch, making a noose in the 
 string. 
 
 " But you must admit that a certain landscape may 
 have an ennobling effect upon the soul of man. That 
 is to say, it may act upon his soul, and in transmission 
 it may engender in him a good feeling or prevent his 
 perpetrating something bad." 
 
 " And a cat which leaps from the table to the floor 
 may prevent something," retorted Lyeff Nikolaevitch, 
 intractably, and went on to characterize the conditions 
 that constitute something in the nature of false art, 
 which people do not need in the least. 
 
 " Nowadays, go where you will," said he, " into a 
 book-shop, china-shop, a jeweler's shop, everywhere 
 there is art. And not any amateur art, but patented 
 art, with diplomas and gold medals. Go to the theater, 
 and there again is art : some woman or other kicks
 
 LIVES AND WORKS 15 
 
 her heels higher than her head. And this repulsive 
 stupidity is not only not considered improper, but, on 
 the contrary, is elevated into something first-class and 
 so important for people, that a fixed place is even set 
 apart for it in the newspapers, alongside the greatest 
 events of the world. Some organs of the press have, 
 moreover, regular appraisers, who often drive straight 
 from the theater to the printing-office, by night, and 
 there, instantly, amid the rumbling of the machines, 
 write down their impressions in haste, that on the 
 morrow the world may know exactly how, on the pre- 
 vious evening, Madame So-and-So kicked up her heels 
 in such and such a theater." 
 
 " But God grant that all this may be sifted out, in 
 time, and that good, nutritious flour may be obtained as 
 a result," remarked one of his hearers. 
 
 " Why must I wait ? " retorted Lyeff Nikolaevitch. 
 " Even now I feel the husks in my teeth. The trouble 
 is that no end to these husks is visible, because, day by 
 day, they are artificially manufactured in the person of 
 divers music and art schools, which disfigure thousands 
 of young lives. But without these nursery-gardens of 
 every sort of lie and routine these young lives might 
 have been of use to mankind." 
 
 "Well, very good, Lyeff Nikolaevitch," said one of 
 his interlocutors, " we will admit that the musical and 
 artistic institutions which exist in Russia really are of 
 no profit to the world. We will admit that, and men- 
 tally annihilate them. Then what institutions will you 
 give us in place of these worthless ones ? " 
 
 "What a strange claim!" ejaculated Lyeff Nikolae- 
 vitch, in amazement, shrugging his shoulders. " It 's 
 just the same as though a sick man were to come to me 
 with a swollen face. The swollen face embarrasses 
 him. The swollen face is a burden to him. I cure him 
 of the swollen face. Then he turns on me : ' And what 
 are you going to give me, in place of the swollen face ? ' 
 Why, nothing is necessary in place of the swollen 
 face." 
 
 Every one began to laugh.
 
 16 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 
 
 A student, with a clever, sympathetic face, entered 
 the room unconstrainedly, and politely saluted Lyeff 
 Nikolaevitch, who returned his greeting in a friendly 
 manner and introduced him to us. The student had 
 just come from some meeting, where some one had read 
 something about the French writer, Taine, who had re- 
 cently died. Lyeff Nikolaevitch became interested in 
 the student's narration, but when the latter began, with 
 some pathos, to speak of Taine's great merits, Lyeff 
 Nikolaevitch interrupted him. 
 
 " What are his great merits ? Why, if the truth were 
 to be told, plainly, in Russian, Taine was a tolerably 
 dull man." 
 
 The student started, but restrained himself, and said, 
 with a smile : 
 
 " So you mean to say, Lyeff Nikolaevitch, that Taine 
 was narrow on some questions." 
 
 " I mean to say exactly what I did say : that Taine 
 was, on the whole, a narrow man, otherwise it is impos- 
 sible to explain his efforts to reduce the influence of 
 man in the history of mankind almost to a cipher, and 
 relegate the chief role to various factors, like water, 
 clay, and so forth. Is not that stupidity? But how 
 about Buddha! How about Christ! Did not they 
 change the forms of life of millions of men ? For clay 
 and water cannot progress, but only living life led by 
 the spirit, which sheds abroad in successive aspects its 
 influence upon the most remote ages and genera- 
 tions." 
 
 The student listened with respect to Lyeff Nikolae- 
 vitch, with one hand thrust under the edge of his uni- 
 form, but evidently he did not entirely agree with him. 
 At his last words he bowed slightly, and said : 
 
 " But anthropology proves " 
 
 " What can be proved by anthropology which, itself, 
 still stands in need of proof ? It was invented in order 
 to obtain the greater wages." 
 
 " You deny " 
 
 " Wages ? I never thought of such a thing." 
 
 " But, anthropology is not manufactured out of one's
 
 LIVES AND WORKS 17 
 
 own head, but deduced from facts, obtained by scientific 
 investigators " 
 
 " What facts ? The investigator arrives on the coast, 
 and, with the aid of a dull interpreter, inquires their 
 ways and habits ; the interpreter lies about the whole 
 thing, and the investigator carefully writes down, and 
 adds something or other of his own." 
 
 The student began to be agitated. 
 
 I looked at Lyeff Nikolaevitch, and I seemed to see 
 spread out before me those stormy scenes in Nekrasoff s 
 lodgings, which took place in the '5o's, when young, 
 impetuous Count L. Tolstoy, presenting a living em- 
 bodiment of Tchatsky, 1 played in St. Petersburg literary 
 circles the part of gadfly, and in the harshest form ex- 
 pressed his protests against everything which seemed to 
 him conventional and false. 
 
 "You cannot imagine what scenes there were," re- 
 lates D. B. Grigorovitch. " Oh, heavens ! Turgeneff 
 would squeak and squeak, clutch his throat with his 
 hand, and, with the eyes of a dying gazelle, would 
 whisper : 
 
 " ' I can endure no more. I have bronchitis.' 
 
 " ' Bronchitis,' Tolstoy would growl out immediately 
 after ; ' bronchitis is an imaginary malady bron- 
 chitis is a mental ' 
 
 " Nekrasoff's heart died within him ; he was afraid to 
 lose both Turgeneff and Tolstoy, in whom, he instinc- 
 tively felt, lay the chief strength of the Contemporary. 
 He had to manceuver. All are irritated. They do 
 not know what to say. Tolstoy is lying in the middle 
 of the room which serves as corridor, on a morocco- 
 covered divan, and sulking, while Turgeneff, parting 
 the skirts of his short pea-jacket, with hands thrust into 
 his pockets, continues to stride back and forth through 
 all three rooms. With the object of averting a catas- 
 trophe, D. Grigorovitch approaches Tolstoy. 
 
 " ' My dear Tolstoy, do not be vexed. You do not 
 know how he values and loves you.' 
 
 " ' I will not permit him to do anything to harm me,' 
 
 1 The hero of Griboydeff 's famous comedy, The Misfortune of Wit. 1*.
 
 1 8 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 
 
 says Tolstoy, with swelling nostrils. ' Here he is march- 
 ing to and fro past me, and wagging his democratic 
 haunches.' " 
 
 I involuntarily recall that scene, when L. Tolstoy, 
 the first time he spent the evening with Panaeff, could 
 not restrain his tendency to disputations, and hotly 
 began to talk of precisely the thing which D. Grigoro- 
 vitch had begged him not to mention to Panaeff. 
 
 And when I gazed at Lyeff Nikolaevitch during his 
 dispute with the student, it became clear to me pre- 
 cisely why he behaved so demonstratively toward Tur- 
 geneff in the literary circles of St. Petersburg. 
 
 By virtue of his nature, Lyeff Tolstoy cannot pass 
 over in silence the phenomenon which he considers 
 monstrous, just as the sea cannot remain tranquil when 
 the wind rises. This is a property of his nature. It 
 imparts vast strength to Lyeff Tolstoy, but, at the same 
 time, it creates for him an inward hell, before which the 
 tragedy of soul which Hamlet experienced must pale. 
 
 Countess Sophia Andreevna approached Lyeff Niko- 
 laevitch, and said, in a low voice, that several of the 
 guests wished to occupy themselves with music. Lyeff 
 Nikolaevitch rose with alacrity, threw away the string, 
 and, as though gliding on ice, hastily betook himself to 
 the large table. On learning that they proposed to 
 begin by playing Wieniawski (piano and violin), and 
 then Beethoven (piano, violin, and violoncello), he set 
 to work to arrange everything as soon as possible. He 
 hunted up the music, helped to raise the lid of the 
 piano, and when all was in readiness, he sat down, with 
 a concentrated manner, on one side, and listened atten- 
 tively to the music. At the end of each piece he rose, 
 and, thrusting his left hand into the belt of his blouse, 
 he walked, with body bent forward, to the performers, 
 thanked them for the pleasure they had given him, and 
 made subtile comments on the more successful passages. 
 
 And, as I looked at that delicate and well-bred man, 
 from whose every word shone forth sensitiveness, it was 
 difficult to imagine him as the vehement protester, lying 
 with inflated nostrils on the divan, and unwilling to
 
 LIVES AND WORKS 19^ 
 
 yield so much as an iota to one of the most inoffensive 
 men in the world. 
 
 Lyeff Nikolaevitch's praise gave the performers great 
 pleasure, and with visible cheerfulness they executed 
 several more pieces at his request. Whether he did 
 this in order to afford pleasure to his guests, or with the 
 object of obtaining a little respite from the fatiguing 
 conversation, or whether he yielded to his passion for 
 music, who knows? Perhaps all these motives were 
 intermingled within him. But he listened with concen- 
 tration, with attention, with head bowed, and gently 
 moving the fingers of his clasped hands.
 
 20 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 THREE weeks later I happened again to be at the Tol- 
 stoys'. Again they had many visitors, and again, after 
 tea, began something in the nature of a concert section. 
 One of the ladies sang. But, evidently, the singing 
 displeased the boys. They went into the adjoining 
 room and made a noise there. Lyeff Nikolaevitch lost 
 his patience and went after the boys. 
 
 " Are you making a noise on purpose ? " he asked. 
 
 After some hesitation came an answer in the affirma- 
 tive : 
 
 " Y-y-yes." 
 
 " Does not her singing please you ? " 
 
 " Well, no. Why does she howl ? " declared one of 
 the boys, with vexation. 
 
 " So you wish to protest against her singing ? " asked 
 Lyeff Nikolaevitch, in a serious tone. 
 
 " Yes ! " 
 
 " Then go out and say so, or stand in the middle of 
 the room and tell every one present. That would be 
 rude, but upright and honest. But you have got to- 
 gether and are squealing like grasshoppers in a corner. 
 I will not endure such protests." 
 
 Nevertheless, the protester did not follow the advice 
 of Lyeff Nikolaevitch, but only burst out laughing and 
 became silent. 
 
 I afterward learned that very rarely is there an eve- 
 ning when there are no guests at the Tolstoys'. They 
 tried to establish fixed days for receptions, but it ended 
 in nothing. On the reception days the friends of Coun- 
 tess Sophia Andreevna chiefly assembled, and on the 
 other days, beginning from seven o'clock in the eve- 
 ning, the outer door with the spring began to bang as be- 
 fore, and to admit various visitors to Lyeff Nikolaevitch.
 
 LIVES AND WORKS 21 
 
 And who all did not come to that little wooden house, 
 painted a dark ocher ? Learned men and writers, painters 
 and artists, statesmen and financiers, governors, secta- 
 rians, officials of the County Council, senators, students, 
 military men, factory laborers, peasants, correspondents 
 of all shades and nationalities, and so forth and so on. 
 Not a winter's day passed by without some new face 
 making its appearance in Long- Weaver's Lane, in quest 
 of an interview with the celebrated Russian writer. 
 
 But all his visitors may be divided into two principal 
 categories: I, "spectators," who present themselves to 
 L. Tolstoy exclusively as to a celebrity, and 2, " the 
 heavy-laden," that is, those who seek from Lyeff Niko- 
 laevitch cooperation, advice, aid. 
 
 The "spectators," in the majority of cases, depart 
 from L. N. Tolstoy disenchanted, and only pretend to 
 be in ecstasies over him. In reality, he does not give 
 them that which they seek and which he might give 
 them. Although he is an idealist in his views, he can- 
 not, nevertheless, endure idle conversations, and is in- 
 clined only to businesslike, practical conversations. 
 
 As he possesses a keen, penetrating mind, and wide 
 experience of life, he frequently with one glance grasps 
 the inward contents of the visitor, and immediately 
 places himself upon a footing of perfect equality with 
 him, or, as it were, freezes up himself. 
 
 It was announced to L. Tolstoy that a strange lady 
 wished to see him. He was not at leisure, but he re- 
 ceived her, and, in a businesslike tone, inquired what 
 she wanted. On seeing him, his visitor became embar- 
 rassed, but mastered her emotion, and announced with 
 decision : 
 
 " I have read your last work, and was brought to a 
 stop by several passages. They are incomprehensible 
 to me." 
 
 " So that 's it ! " said Lyeff Nikolaevitch, brightening 
 up ; and, inviting his visitor to his study, he spent several 
 hours in conversation with her. 
 
 They parted friends, and, in speaking of her, he 
 always seemed, as it were, to be illuminated from within.
 
 22 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 
 
 One day some one said, in his presence, that she ought 
 to be valued at her weight in gold. He corrected 
 this: 
 
 " No, no ! She ought to be valued at her weight in 
 the most precious stones." 
 
 Another female visitor came to him in order to place 
 her large property at his disposal. He was touched, 
 but declined the proposal. 
 
 " God protect us from such huge sums ! One in- 
 fallibly gets into trouble with them." 
 
 Lyeff Tolstoy's popularity often occasions him comi- 
 cal encounters, which he himself sometimes tells about 
 afterward with inimitable comicalness. One day, in 
 Moscow, he was walking along a narrow sidewalk, when 
 an extremely drunken man crawled, staggering, along 
 to meet him. When the stranger caught sight of Lyeff 
 Nikolaevitch, he came to anchor, as it were, and with 
 twisting tongue inquired : 
 
 " Count Tolstoy ? Y-yes ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " I am your adorer and imitator," said the fellow, with 
 feeling, and respectfully made way for his exemplar. 
 
 On another occasion a certain citizen presented him- 
 self before Lyeff Nikolaevitch, and announced: 
 
 " I should like to go over to your Ilhtstrious Highness 1 s 
 creed." 
 
 Still more amusing was the appearance of two Ameri- 
 can women. One day, Lyeff Nikolaevitch was informed 
 that two American women wished to see him, and that 
 they had come to Moscow for that special purpose. He 
 received them, and entered into conversation. 
 
 The Americans announced with much aplomb that 
 they had performed something in the nature of a feat, 
 namely, they had made a tour of the globe, having set 
 out from different points in America, with the agree- 
 ment that they were to meet in Moscow to see "the 
 great writer of the Russian land." And behold, they 
 had accomplished the aim they had in view, and were 
 content that they had carried out their mission. He 
 smiled, and said :
 
 LIVES AND WORKS 23 
 
 " But I think that you might have made a better use 
 of your time." 
 
 One of the Americans exclaimed : 
 
 " I was convinced that Leo Tolstoy would infallibly 
 say something of that sort." 
 
 And, overflowing with satisfaction, the grateful visitors 
 took their leave of L. N. Tolstoy. 
 
 As he hardly ever refuses to receive any one, Lyeff 
 Nikolaevitch on some days is greatly fatigued by visit- 
 ors, because some of them often demand an augmenta- 
 tion of patience and great endurance. An " admirer " 
 arrives, and after a lyrical preface begins to demonstrate 
 that he is in extreme need of a certain sum of money, 
 and so extraordinarily in need that there is nothing to 
 be done but to take it out and hand it over. 
 
 "But I have no money," declares Lyeff Nikolaevitch. 
 
 "It cannot be. You are a millionaire. Moreover, 
 your works bring you in an income of tens of thousands. 
 In conclusion, every line of yours is, so to speak, capital 
 of a certain sort." 
 
 " Nevertheless, I cannot comply with your request." 
 
 " This is inhuman, Count ! Then why do you preach 
 about self-sacrifice, when you refuse me a paltry twenty- 
 five rubles, which are absolutely necessary to me ? This 
 is the fourth month that I have been walking the streets 
 of Moscow from morning till night, in order to get my- 
 self a ticket to Kaluga. Understand, Count, I have 
 been walking, in vain, ior four months." 
 
 " But in that space of time you might have walked to 
 Kaluga several times over." 
 
 This comment dumfounded the visitor for a moment. 
 But he promptly recovered himself, and, with complete 
 conviction of his own uprightness, began to demonstrate 
 that he could not travel on foot, like a common peasant, 
 and eat whatever came to hand, because he was of a 
 good family, and not in a condition to eat bad food ; he 
 must have good food. 
 
 Some visitors go even farther, and make downright 
 threats to kill themselves if their request is not complied 
 with.
 
 24 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 
 
 Such visits always greatly disturb Lyeff Nikolaevitch. 
 
 "You look at a visitor of that sort," said he one day, 
 " and you feel dreadfully. You perceive that such peo- 
 ple are precisely the ones who are capable of anything, 
 except of making a moral effort over themselves. Such 
 a spectacle is terrible!" 
 
 A painful impression is also produced upon him by 
 visitors who present themselves to him for the purpose 
 of enlisting him in some cause which is contrary to the 
 principles of his soul. He experienced something of 
 that sort in connection with the visit of the well-known 
 French poet Deroulede, who came to Lyeff Nikolaevitch 
 with the object of enticing him with his idea of "re- 
 venge." In the end, Lyeff Nikolaevitch, who, generally, 
 treats foreigners with particular cordiality, could endure 
 it no longer, and replied with vehemence to Deroulede's 
 tirade : 
 
 " The frontiers of kingdoms should be determined, not 
 by the sword and blood, but by the rational agreement 
 of nations. And when there are no longer any people 
 who do not understand this, then there will be no more 
 wars." 
 
 Thereupon, L. N. rose, and, in much agitation, left the 
 room. 
 
 This scene created a sensation. Deroulede took um- 
 brage, and when Lyeff Nikolaevitch returned, he in- 
 formed him that he considered his reasoning artificial, 
 because the first Russian peasant you might meet would 
 certainly reason more justly ; and, in proof of the justice 
 of his cause, Deroulede proposed that his appeal should 
 be translated into Russian for the first Russian peasant 
 at hand. Lyeff Nikolaevitch assented. They set out 
 for a walk. Prokofiy, a peasant of Yasnaya Poly ana, 
 met them. L. N. called him up, and translated Derou- 
 lede's pathetic harangue to the effect that the Russians 
 and the French are brethren, but that between them 
 stands the German, who prevents them from embracing 
 each other, and therefore Deroulede proposed that Pro- 
 kofiy should lend a hand to squeeze the fat out of the 
 German.
 
 LIVES AND WORKS 25 
 
 Prokofiy listened attentively, reflected, and said : 
 " No, Master, let it, rather, be in this way : Do you 
 French work, and we Russians will also work, and after 
 our toil is over, we will go to the public-house, and we 
 will take the German with us." 
 
 This combination did not satisfy De"roulede.
 
 26 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 THE female visitors who come to Lyeff Nikolaevitch 
 sometimes join hysterics to their persistent demands. 
 
 One lady made her appearance and announced that 
 she absolutely must have, in all haste, several thousand 
 rubles, and that it was perfectly easy for adorable Lyeff 
 Nikolaevitch to do her that favor, because he was so 
 kind, so good, and, probably, would not take upon his 
 soul all the results which his refusal would entail. He 
 endeavored, in every way, to calm his visitor. But noth- 
 ing would calm her except the stated sum, and not one 
 kopek less. On being refused, the visitor uttered a 
 shriek, and fell down in a so-called swoon. She was re- 
 stored to consciousness, and offered a small sum of 
 money for her traveling expenses. She took it, and de- 
 parted with disenchanted aspect. 
 
 Ladies, in general, very frequently vanquish Lyeff 
 Nikolaevitch, by expressing their sympathy and their 
 wishes in such a theatrical form, as almost always in- 
 duces in him a state of irritation, and then upon his 
 features a very harsh and bristling quality makes its 
 appearance, which reminds one of old Prince Bolkonsky, 
 in War and Peace. 
 
 Some women visitors present themselves, and imme- 
 diately say : 
 
 " Lyeff Nikolaevitch, teach us life ! " 
 
 Such demonstrative apparitions always put him out 
 of countenance. 
 
 In the winter of 1896, after the first representation in 
 the Little Theater, Moscow, of The Power of Darkness^ 
 a crowd of students betook themselves straight from the 
 theater to Weaver's Lane, to L. N. Tolstoy, " in order to 
 express to him their sentiments of gratitude and love." 
 
 The students thronged about the gates of the house
 
 LIVES AND WORKS 27 
 
 where L. N. lives, and began to hold a council, as to 
 how they should proceed to carry out their premeditated 
 plan. Was it timely to present themselves at such an 
 hour, even with the object of expressing kind feelings ? 
 Lyeff Nikolaevitch might be already asleep at that 
 moment But Lyeff Nikolaevitch was making a call 
 at the time, and returned home with one of his friends 
 just as the students were discussing the matter. He 
 was very much astonished at the unusual assemblage in 
 Weaver's Lane, and, slipping unperceived through the 
 ranks of the students, he entered the yard. But they 
 instantly divined the identity of the old man who had 
 entered the house, and they cautiously rang the bell. 
 
 " We have come to express to Lyeff Nikolaevitch our 
 profound gratitude for The Power of Darkness" said the 
 spokesman. 
 
 When he was informed of the students' request, he 
 became extremely embarrassed. 
 
 "Why are they doing this? What shall I say to 
 them?" 
 
 And when, a few minutes later, the throng of students 
 entered the vestibule, and one of them, mounting a chair, 
 in an agitated voice addressed a greeting to Lyeff Niko- 
 laevitch, while the others darted forward to kiss his 
 hands, he was agitated, and, for some time, could not 
 speak. 
 
 Something similar took place also at the time of the 
 last Congress of Naturalists in Moscow. 
 
 L. N. Tolstoy went to hear the report of his old 
 
 friend, Professor Tz . Some one present, perceiving 
 
 Lyeff Nikolaevitch, ejaculated in a challenging whis- 
 per : 
 
 " Lyeff Nikolaevitch is here ! " 
 
 These words ran through the hall like lightning. 
 Every one began to look about, to see the famous writer. 
 Lyeff Nikolaevitch felt that one of those hypnotizing 
 scenes which he has always avoided was beginning, and 
 tried to slip out unperceived. 
 
 The vast throng which filled the University hall was 
 stirred, and shouted :
 
 28 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 
 
 " Lyeff Nikolaevitch ! Lyeff Nikolaevitch ! " 
 Finally, the managers were obliged to request Lyeff 
 Nikolaevitch to occupy the place of honor on the plat- 
 form. The walls trembled with the applause wherewith 
 the naturalists greeted the great Russian writer. This 
 scene greatly disturbed L. N., and he does not like to 
 recall it. But every simple, artless expression of sym- 
 pathy touches him deeply. And if some of his visitors 
 sometimes cause him displeasure, others, on the con- 
 trary, afford him lofty gratification, by laying bare before 
 him whole beds of spiritual riches. 
 
 In one of his letters, Lyeff Nikolaevitch writes : 
 " It is joyful to hear of influence over other people, 
 because only then are you convinced that the fire within 
 you is genuine when it sets aflame." And this sweet- 
 ness of consciousness Lyeff Nikolaevitch sometimes 
 extracts from his incessant association with people. 
 
 And who knows whether he could understand men's 
 characters on all sides, and so delicately feel the pulse 
 of mankind, without these daily encounters and con- 
 versations ? 
 
 To sit out an evening at his house occasionally means 
 to enter immediately into the current of the most vitally 
 interesting questions, which are agitating the thoughtful 
 part of society at the moment, and to make acquaintance 
 with the representatives of all possible classes and 
 tendencies.
 
 LIVES AND WORKS 29 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 EVENING is drawing on. The clock has struck seven, 
 Lyeff Nikolaevitch is sitting, after dinner, in his study, 
 with his leg tucked up under him, and listening with 
 great interest to a young scientific man, who is telling 
 about a new theory of light; from time to time he touches 
 the hand of his interlocutor in a friendly manner, and 
 makes brief remarks, which show that the question is 
 perfectly clear to him. The servant announces the 
 arrival of a village schoolmaster, who has come from 
 the South. A gentleman enters, attired in Russian 
 fashion, with sunburned face and irresolute manners. 
 But he talks calmly, and expresses his thoughts clearly. 
 A conversation arises concerning the situation of the 
 school question in Russia, which Lyeff Nikolaevitch 
 takes greatly to heart, having practical knowledge 
 thereof, as the organizer of schools in Yasnaya Polyana. 
 
 A new visitor makes his appearance, well known for 
 his activity in country matters. He has a whole budget 
 of news, touching favorable enterprises in the realm of 
 agriculture. 
 
 A spirited conversation begins about communal farm- 
 ing, about agricultural workmen's associations, about 
 intelligent tillage. Lyeff Nikolaevitch feels a vivid 
 sympathy " for the movement in the country," but con- 
 siders the occupation of agriculture a very difficult 
 problem for contemporary educated people. 
 
 " That is so plain," said he ; " the peasant fixes the 
 price of grain. That means that one must reduce one's 
 budget and the cost of production to his rule ; that is to 
 say, one must also limit one's wants as the peasant has 
 limited them. But is that easy for the contemporary 
 man, who is weak and incapable of tenacious physical 
 toil ? There is the American, who, when he hires a field
 
 30 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 
 
 laborer, first of all steps up and feels the man's muscles. 
 ' Good for nothing,' he says, and walks off. And, in 
 truth, without firm muscles, what sort of workman is 
 he ? " 
 
 New visitors make their appearance : a Moscow finan- 
 cier, then a lady who lives in England. 
 
 A conversation begins with her about England, about 
 several members of Parliament with whom she is ac- 
 quainted, and about English Laborers' Associations. 
 
 A student and a scholar in the Gymnasium enter the 
 study. The Gymnasium scholar gives Lyeff Nikolae- 
 vitch a new collection of poems by a new poetess, con- 
 cerning whose writings Lyeff Nikolaevitch has heard a 
 great deal, and has desired to make acquaintance with 
 them. 
 
 He thanks the Gymnasium lad, opens the book, reads 
 a few lines, and laughs. 
 
 " Listen, for heaven's sake ! " he says, moving his 
 seat closer to the light, and he reads aloud a very poeti- 
 cal poem. 
 
 But at the end he pauses, and in perplexity delivers 
 the last line, which is distinguished by a pungently 
 erotic character. 
 
 "Why was not she ashamed to print that?" asks 
 Lyeff Nikolaevitch, in amazement; then he turns over 
 a few leaves, again reads aloud a poem, and again it 
 ends with an erotic aroma. Lyeff Nikolaevitch closes 
 the book in despair, and pushes it away from him. 
 
 The conversation passes on to contemporary literature. 
 
 L. N. Tolstoy reads a very great deal, and in this 
 respect follows the rule which Auguste Comte called 
 hygiene of the brain. In addition to the Russian and 
 foreign journals and newspapers which he receives, his 
 friends send him everything of the slightest importance 
 which makes its appearance in print ; in consequence of 
 which, a conversation with L. N. Tolstoy on literature 
 always assumes the most interesting character; one 
 learns of many novelties with which one would never 
 have succeeded in making acquaintance to the end of 
 one's days.
 
 LIVES AND WORKS 31 
 
 Sometimes the character of the visitors is even more 
 varied; side by side with a magister of philosophy 
 sits a sunburned peasant, who has come from the South 
 and who good-naturedly addresses L. N. Tolstoy as 
 grandfather. 
 
 Lyeff Nikolaevitch's unconstraint and simplicity pre- 
 vent these motley assemblies from shocking any one. 
 Here every one feels himself at home, and, at the same 
 time, close to the others, in consequence of which L. N. 
 Tolstoy's Moscow study presents a sort of All-Russia 
 junction, through which have passed, during the last 
 ten years, not a few intellectual and artistic treasures.
 
 32 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 ALTHOUGH L. N. Tolstoy loves friendly conversation, 
 and friendly sociability with people, nevertheless he 
 cherishes an almost unhealthy antipathy to everything 
 ceremonial, populous, or crowded, in consequence of 
 which he very rarely makes his appearance in social 
 gatherings, and obstinately keeps away from all festivi- 
 ties, jubilees, and other thronged places, confining him- 
 self to attending a few public lectures which possess 
 some special interest. 
 
 Lyeff Nikolaevitch visits the theater also very seldom, 
 and always watches his chance to slip in unperceived, 
 and to occupy a seat where he can be seen as little as 
 possible. 
 
 In the winter of 1895, when he began his work on 
 Art, he happened, for a time, to get into the theatrical 
 zone and visited the theaters, talked with the actors, 
 and even read his play, The Power of Darkness, to the 
 artists of the Little Theater, in the theater office. ... 
 
 But a year later he looked upon this as a mistaken 
 enthusiasm, and when an acquaintance began to entice 
 Lyeff Nikolaevitch with a new opera, he said, with a 
 smile : 
 
 " No, no ! I only kicked over the traces in that way 
 last year, but now I have sunk to the bottom for good." 
 
 His visits to the theater did not satisfy him. 
 
 I happened to see him after a representation of King 
 Lear. He was dissatisfied with the manner in which he 
 had spent his evening, and said : 
 
 " I gazed at those grimaces and thought : but war 
 must be waged against all this. How much routine 
 there is in it which overwhelms the truth. Ruskin said 
 that Shakespeare had no villains. What nonsense! 
 Edmund is a thorough, conventional villain."
 
 LIVES AND WORKS 33 
 
 Neither did The Power of Darkness satisfy him on the 
 stage. 
 
 " In the case whence I borrowed that theme," said he, 
 " Nikita, in a fit of delirium, kills his wife with a cart- 
 shaft, and only then does the moral rupture take place 
 within him. It seemed to me that that would be excess- 
 ive. But my fears were vain ; I ought to have intro- 
 duced that scene." 
 
 "And how did the acting of it please you?" I 
 asked. 
 
 "That was all right. Only the actors make great 
 efforts to be natural. That should not be done. The 
 performers ought to conceal their intentions. Generally, 
 as soon as you perceive that they are trying to work on 
 your feelings or to make you laugh, you immediately 
 begin to experience the diametrically opposite sentiment. 
 And the characters in The Power of Darkness are not in 
 the least the people I thought them to be. Nikita is not 
 a fop, he is not a dashing young sprig, but merely an 
 offshoot of city culture. Akim does not ' discourse ' 
 when he talks ; he makes great efforts, he hurries and 
 perspires with the exertion of thought. He ought to be 
 nervous and restless." 
 
 A little later, Lyeff Nikolaevitch again spoke about 
 King Lear, and, as he felt hungry, he turned to his 
 daughters : 
 
 " Regan ! Goneril ! is your old father to have any 
 oatmeal porridge to-day ? " 
 
 Lyeff Nikolaevitch is not very enthusiastic over Shake- 
 speare in general, and, as it seems to me, he is insuffi- 
 ciently acquainted with him in detail. He never quotes 
 him and does not reenforce his speech with the winged 
 thoughts in which Shakespeare is so rich. But, for ex- 
 ample, Lyeff Nikolaevitch quite frequently introduces, 
 in German, different poetical fragments from Goethe, 
 although, at the same time, he does not belong to the 
 latter' s warm admirers, but thoroughly shares Heine's 
 opinion, that Goethe is a great man in a silken coat. 
 With Heine's works L. N. made real acquaintance 
 only of late, and was much carried away with them.
 
 34 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 
 
 In the midst of the most vehement conversation, he 
 sometimes pauses and, raising his head, he recites in a 
 masterly manner, in German, one of Heine's poems 
 which bears upon the conversation. The poem en- 
 titled, Lass die frommen Hypotesen, pleases him in 
 particular. 
 
 Lyeff Nikolaevitch has been obliged to refresh his 
 memory of Schiller of late also. The work of Schiller 
 which pleases him most is The Robbers, because of its 
 youthful, fervent language. 
 
 "Don Carlos is not the same," he says. "But the 
 principal thing which repels me in Don Carlos is that 
 which I never can endure, the exclusive nature of the 
 situation. In my opinion, it is exactly the same as if one 
 were to take the Siamese Twins for heroes." 
 
 Until the other day, Lyeff Nikolaevitch knew noth- 
 ing whatever about Bernier, and read several of his 
 articles with great satisfaction. 
 
 But, on the other hand, in the realm of philosophical 
 literature he is extremely well read, and, in that direc- 
 tion, it is hardly probable that any of the Russian 
 writers could be placed on a level with him. 
 
 An extraordinary thing happened with Lyeff Niko- 
 laevitch's collection of Western writers. When he was 
 abroad, in the '5o's, he purchased the works of the 
 prominent European authors in the original languages. 
 
 " But, alas ! " he said, with a comic sigh, " they took 
 all those books away from me on the frontier for ex- 
 amination, and they are still examining them." 
 
 Among Lyeff Tolstoy's favorite thinkers and writers 
 are : Socrates, Epictetus, Pascal, J. J. Rousseau, Victor 
 Hugo, Dickens, and so forth. J. J. Rousseau has had 
 more influence than all the rest on his spiritual organi- 
 zation. 
 
 " I deified Rousseau to such a degree," said Lyeff 
 Nikolaevitch one day, "that, at one time, I wished to 
 have his portrait inserted in a locket and wear it on 
 my breast instead of a holy picture (ikona)" 
 
 Nevertheless, it was not J. J. Rousseau, but Sterne, 
 who imparted to Lyeff Nikolaevitch his first impulse
 
 LIVES AND WORKS 35 
 
 to write. He once confessed as much to a Gymnasium 
 scholar, who asked him at what age he began to write. 
 Lyeff Nikolaevitch smiled, and said : 
 
 " And you are afraid that you are too old ? My first 
 work was written at the age of sixteen. It was a philo- 
 sophical treatise after the manner of Sterne."
 
 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 AMONG Russian writers, Lermontoff exercised the 
 greatest influence on L. N. Tolstoy. To this day he 
 cherishes a warm feeling for him, and values in him 
 that quality which he calls seeking. Bereft of that 
 quality, he considers the talent of a writer incom- 
 plete and, as it were, defective. The role of the writer, 
 in his opinion, should include two indispensable prop- 
 erties : artistic talent and understanding, that is to 
 say, the purified side of mind, which is capable of 
 penetrating into the actuality of phenomena and giv- 
 ing the loftiest view of the world of its time. 
 
 Among the Russian contemporaries of L. N. Tolstoy, 
 D. Grigorovitch had some influence upon his literary 
 formation. But L. N. Tolstoy is indebted for literary 
 development and tendency more than to any one else 
 to his elder brother, Nikolai, a man with a brilliant, 
 noble, and finely cultured heart. 
 
 L. N. Tolstoy has always regarded Turgeneff as a 
 leading man, well educated and very talented ; but his 
 productions in the realm of belles-lettres, with the ex- 
 ception of The Diary of a Sportsman, never evoked 
 rapture in L. N., and, of course, he could not nourish 
 himself on them. 
 
 A very characteristic episode once occurred with him, 
 which may have served, in part, to intensify the shadow 
 which lay between Turgeneff and L. Tolstoy. 
 
 In 1860 L. Tolstoy went to visit Turgeneff in the 
 country. The latter, just at that time, had completed 
 his romance Fathers and Children, and attributed great 
 importance to his new work, expressing a desire to learn 
 L. N. Tolstoy's opinion of it. The latter took the manu- 
 script, lay down with it on the divan in the study, and 
 began to read. But the romance appeared to him so
 
 LIVES AND WORKS 37 
 
 artificially constructed and so insignificant in contents 
 that he could not overcome the weariness which seized 
 upon him, and he fell asleep. 
 
 " I awoke," he relates, " with a queer sort of sensa- 
 tion, and when I opened my eyes I beheld Turgeneff's 
 gigantic figure retiring from the study." 
 
 All that day something seemed to be suspended 
 between them. 
 
 But Tolstoy esteems Turgeneff very highly as the 
 author of The Diary of a Sportsman, and considers his 
 descriptions of nature as not only superb, but as un- 
 attainable by any other writer whomsoever. 
 
 L. N. Tolstoy treats Dostoevsky as an artist with 
 profound respect, and considers some of his things 
 especially Crime and Punishment as wonderful. But 
 there is much in Dostoevsky that repels him. Some 
 writers L. N. Tolstoy does nqt recognize at all, as it 
 were. In this category belong Melnikoff-Petchersky, 
 Pomyalovsky, Ryeschetnikoff, and a number of the 
 contemporary literary workers. Among the popular 
 writers, L. N. Tolstoy always speaks with animation 
 of Slyeptzoff. 
 
 It is a fact not devoid of interest that L. N. Tolstoy 
 gave to Turgeneff the idea of the little literary sketches 
 which afterward appeared in print under the title of 
 Poems in Prose. He himself tried his powers in that 
 style of writing, but made a failure of it. He once 
 wrote a little thing of that sort, and sent it to L Aksa- 
 koff's journal, Russia, over the name of an old woman, 
 Natalya Petrovna, who lived with the Tolstoys. But 
 shortly afterward I. Aksakoff returned the manuscript, 
 with a polite excuse that he could not print it because 
 the author was, as yet, insufficiently skilled in the art 
 of expression. 
 
 Lyeff Nikolaevitch experienced the genuine writer's 
 fever while he was in the Caucasus, that is to say, 
 when he was twenty-one years of age. Dissatisfied with 
 the idle life which he was leading in the circle of his 
 comrades, and pining with homesickness for his native 
 land, L. N. began to transport himself in imagination
 
 38 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 
 
 to familiar spots. This afforded him such lofty pleas- 
 ure that he decided to fix some recollections on paper, 
 and he began to jot them down. Thus Childhood was 
 composed. Dreams of literary glory arose later on. 
 As he obeyed in his creative work the imperative ne- 
 cessity which lay in his soul, so he drew forth from 
 his soul that peculiar tone with which this remarkable 
 work is permeated. He no longer places any special 
 value on it. 
 
 Once upon a time, Lyeff Nikolaevitch was driving, 
 with an acquaintance of his, in a public cab, in Moscow. 
 The driver recognized him, and, turning round, said : 
 
 " I have read a great many of your books, your Illus- 
 trious Highness ! I have read The Prisoners of the 
 Caucasus, I have read Master and Workman ; I have 
 also read about merchant Aksenoff {God sees the truth 
 but will not speedily reveal it). Everything gave me 
 great pleasure. But I have not been able, by any 
 means, to get your book Childhood and Boyhood. They 
 say it is a go-o-od book ! " 
 
 L. N. Tolstoy chatted with the cabman and said to 
 him : 
 
 " If you are so fond of reading, come to me, and I 
 will give you books." 
 
 "Will you give me Childhood and Boyhood?" asked 
 the cabman, with animation. 
 
 " No, that is a frivolous little book. In my youth I 
 wrote a great deal of nonsense. I will give you Walk 
 in the Light while there is Light. That is far better 
 than Childhood and Boyhood." 
 
 But Lyeff Nikolaevitch's companion said to the cab- 
 man : 
 
 " Nevertheless, do you get and read Childhood and 
 Boyhood. Don't believe that it is a 'frivolous' book. 
 It 's a go-o-od little book, brother ! " 
 
 Lyeff Nikolaevitch made no reply. 
 
 But, on the following day, when the cabman came to 
 him for books, he did not give him Childhood and Boy- 
 hood, nevertheless, as though he did not wish to take 
 that sin upon his soul.
 
 LIVES AND WORKS 39 
 
 But we cannot regard Childhood and Boyhood in that 
 light. That work possesses, in our eyes, a double value, 
 both from the artistic standpoint and from the his- 
 torical-literary standpoint. It gave an impetus to the 
 genius of Lyeff Tolstoy, and, having secured for him 
 a conspicuous success in the literary world, helped him 
 to effect the change from the military to the literary 
 career. 
 
 And with what sympathy, nervously straining to 
 youthful conceit, his first steps in literature were 
 welcomed, may be judged from the fact that, in the 
 briefest possible time, L. Tolstoy was reckoned among 
 the vanguard of literature ; and, both in the illustrations 
 and the caricatures of that period, he was depicted, as 
 an equal among equals, with the most famous writers 
 of the day : Gontcharoff, Turgeneff, Nekrasoff, Ostrov- 
 sky, and so forth. 
 
 The remarkable charm of simplicity and sincerity in 
 Childhood and Boyhood captivated every one. 
 
 In his Youth there is a poetical chapter, in which 
 L. N. describes how once, early in the morning, he gave 
 himself up to the contemplation of his surroundings, 
 and "tears, as of some unsatisfied but agitating joy," 
 involuntarily sprang to his eyes. Once I told him of 
 what I always thought when I read that chapter. He 
 listened to me, and, after a considerable pause, he de- 
 clared, as though recalling something, that when he wrote 
 that chapter, he had experienced precisely those thoughts 
 which I had mentioned. Behold the great secret of art, 
 which knows no limits, either of time or of space. 
 
 The majority of the persons introduced in Childhood 
 and Boyhood, and in Youth, are taken directly from life. 
 Only, many people are mistaken when they think that 
 the father introduced by L. N. Tolstoy in Childhood 
 and Boyhood is his own father. He is Islenieff, Coun- 
 tess Sophia Andreevna's grandfather, a neighbor of the 
 Tolstoys on his estate. Lyeff Nikolaevitch's grand- 
 father, Count Ilya Andreevitch Tolstoy, was the spend- 
 thrift of his day, and squandered, in addition to his own 
 very considerable property, the still greater property of
 
 40 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 
 
 his wife, by birth a Princess Gortchakoff . How prodi- 
 gal he was may be judged from the fact that he did not 
 have his linen washed in Russia, but sent it, by special 
 wagons, to Holland. 
 
 His son Nikolai (the father of L. N. Tolstoy), on 
 the contrary, was distinguished for his persistent, toil- 
 some perseverance. When, after his father's death, he 
 found himself without means, he assumed all his father's 
 liabilities, and, by degrees, satisfied all the creditors, 
 though he had on his hands various relatives, among 
 whom was Mme. T. A. Ergoloff, who afterward reared 
 Lyeff Nikolaevitch.
 
 COUNT TOLSTOY DURING THE WORKING SEASON 
 
 IN THE COUNTRY 
 FROM A SKETCH BY L.- PASTERNAK
 
 
 LL(! 
 
 1
 
 LIVES AND WORKS 4 i 
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 IN the family chronicles of the Counts Tolstoy, there 
 is one very interesting episode. The father of Lyeff 
 Nikolaevitch, in 1813, after the siege of Erfurt, was 
 sent to St. Petersburg with despatches, and on his way 
 back, in the hamlet of Saint Obi, he was taken prisoner 
 together with his serf -orderly. The latter, without be- 
 ing observed, concealed all his master's money in his 
 boot, and for a period of several months, during which 
 they were imprisoned, he never once took off his boots 
 and foot-cloths. His leg became chafed, and a sore was 
 formed, but he never even showed, during all that time, 
 that he was suffering. But, after the entry into Paris, 
 Count Nikolai Hitch was able to live without feeling 
 the want of anything, and he always held the faithful 
 orderly in kindly memory. 
 
 Thus that profound feeling which L. Tolstoy cher- 
 ishes for the spiritual powers of the Russian man has 
 in it, as it were, hereditary roots. And these roots have, 
 gradually, descended deeper within him under the in- 
 fluence of acquaintance with the people, now in the 
 character of an active landowner and mediator of the 
 peace, again in the character of village schoolmaster,, 
 curiously inquiring into every detail of his Yasnaya 
 Polyana school, and again, in conclusion, through free 
 communion with the common people during the peri- 
 ods of field labors and journeys on foot in company. 
 Thanks to his attire and to his ease of manner, Lyeff 
 Nikolaevitch everywhere succeeds in establishing free 
 relations with the common people, and hears from them 
 their entirely unvarnished opinions. 
 
 One day he was walking with a friend of his from 
 Moscow to Tula. On the road, near a heap of rubbish, 
 they saw a peasant, who was angrily breaking off the
 
 42 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 
 
 heel of his boot with a stone, and swearing vigorously. 
 He had chafed his heel with his boot, and this had 
 greatly enraged him. The wayfarers approached him, 
 entered into conversation with him, and then they pro- 
 ceeded on their way together. The workman had a 
 dissatisfied air, and he kept complaining of the injustice 
 of people : he had been working in a factory, but the 
 owner had not paid him as much as he should "for 
 casting." Lyeff Nikolaevitch continued to listen to the 
 workman, and then said seriously : 
 
 "There's something wrong about that, Ivan Se- 
 myonoff ! " 
 
 " May God strike me dead, if everything is not as I 
 am telling you ! " returned Ivan Semyonoff, hotly ; and, 
 in confirmation of his words, he showed Lyeff Nikolae- 
 vitch a receipt from the factory. 
 
 Thus they journeyed for about three days, halting at 
 posting-stations for rest, and already chatting like old 
 friends. Ivan Semyonoff inquired, with curiosity, one 
 day when he found himself alone with Lyeff Nikolae- 
 vitch's companion : 
 
 " Say, who is that Lyeff Nikolaevitch, if you please ? " 
 
 " Oh, just an old man. Why ? " 
 
 " He 's a divine old man ! " 
 
 At their last halting-place the travelers drank tea. 
 Lyeff Nikolaevitch took leave of Ivan Semyonoff, and 
 said : 
 
 " How well it was that God led us to make acquain- 
 tance, and to pass our time together. But it still seems 
 to me, Ivan Semyonoff, that you have not yet told us 
 the whole truth about yourself." 
 
 Tears rose to Ivan Semyonoff's eyes. 
 
 " Forgive me, Lyeff Nikolaevitch, I told you a lie ; 
 I received all my money in full from the proprietor, and 
 drank it up, accursed man that I am." 
 
 On another occasion, Lyeff Nikolaevitch and his travel- 
 ing companion overtook on the road an ailing lad, who 
 was very weak, and they took him with them. The 
 mistress of the posting-station, when she saw that the 
 lad was very ill, flew into a rage, and screamed :
 
 LIVES AND WORKS 43 
 
 " Begone, begone ! Why have you brought hither a 
 dead man ? He will die here." 
 
 Lyeff Nikolaevitch remained silent for a little while, 
 then said gently : 
 
 " This lad does not belong to us, he is a stranger. We 
 took him because he was helpless. Reflect how painful 
 it would be for you if you were in a helpless condition 
 and no one was willing to help you." 
 
 The mistress softened, received the travelers, cared 
 for the lad in a motherly way, and then kept repeating 
 to him : 
 
 " Here, you see, kind people have picked you up and 
 brought you hither. And if there were no kind people 
 if there were no kind people in the world, what would 
 happen then ? " 
 
 Free and frequent intercourse with the common people 
 has enabled Lyeff Nikolaevitch to accumulate a great 
 hoard of knowledge concerning the life of the people, 
 and to perfect that rich, highly colored language which 
 renders him a master in the most varied realms of 
 thought and feeling. 
 
 In conversation with the peasants Lyeff Nikolaevitch 
 never apes their tone, but bears himself simply and 
 seriously, like an experienced, clever peasant, who knows 
 all the shades of peasant life. He knows what to say 
 and to whom, and how to get hold of each one. 
 
 In the course of one of his journeys, he entered a vil- 
 lage posting-station to spend the night. The master of 
 the station, a stubborn, capricious old man, flew into a 
 rage with his young son over something or other, and 
 began to beat him, then seized him by the hair, and 
 dragged him from the room. Lyeff Nikolaevitch began 
 to reason with the peasant. But the latter got angry 
 and paid no attention to him. Then Lyeff Nikolaevitch 
 said to him reproachfully : 
 
 " Shame on you ! Why, even a wild beast would not 
 do that to another wild beast. And you call yourself 
 a Christian. Aren't you afraid that God will punish 
 you?" 
 
 This stung the peasant, and he shouted wrathf ully :
 
 44 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 
 
 "So, according to your wise head, a man must not 
 teach his children ? " 
 
 "He must teach, but not beat them," said Lyeff 
 Nikolaevitch. 
 
 " And do you know what Count Aratchkeeff said ? " 
 inquired the peasant, in a malicious, challenging voice. 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " Kill nine men, but teach the tenth " 
 
 Before the peasant could finish his sentence, Lyeff 
 Nikolaevitch sprang at him with flaming eyes, and 
 shouted : 
 
 " Don't you dare to talk like that ! God is not in you. 
 And you must know, the man who said that was a wild 
 beast." 
 
 And, as he said this, there was something in his face 
 and voice before which the rage of the harsh peasant 
 was instantly extinguished. 
 
 The piercing keenness of the glance with which Lyeff 
 Nikolaevitch sometimes seems to bore through a man 
 and to reach the very depths of his soul, often renders 
 a lie impossible to the people with whom he is talk- 
 ing. 
 
 A tragic event occurred at Yasnaya Polyana in 1896 : 
 the coachman found a dead baby in the pond. The 
 whole Tolstoy family was greatly upset at this occur- 
 rence. One of Lyeff Nikolaevitch' s daughters was 
 overwhelmed, in particular, because she was almost con- 
 vinced that the dead baby belonged to a cross-eyed 
 widow, who had concealed her pregnancy. But the 
 widow obstinately spurned the accusation brought against 
 her, and swore that she was innocent. 
 
 Suspicions against other people began to circulate. 
 
 Before dinner, Lyeff Nikolaevitch betook himself to 
 the park, in order to have a little stroll, but soon re- 
 turned with a weary and agitated mien. He had been 
 in the village, to the cross-eyed widow's. He did not 
 argue with her at all, but merely listened attentively to 
 what she had to say, and then remarked : 
 
 " If this murder is not the work of your hands, then 
 it will cause you no suffering. But if you committed it,
 
 LIVES AND WORKS 45 
 
 you must feel very sad now ; so sad that nothing else in 
 this life can ever seem painful to you." 
 
 " Oh, what a weight I have upon my heart now, as 
 though some one were crushing it with a stone ! " cried 
 the widow, breaking into sobs, and she frankly con- 
 fessed to Lyeff Nikolaevitch that she had strangled her 
 baby, and thrown jit into the water. That is why he 
 was so melancholy.
 
 46 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 FAMILIARITY with the life of the Russian people could 
 not pass over such a sensitive nature as that of L. N. 
 Tolstoy without leaving traces. With his powerfully 
 developed sense of human dignity, he could not but 
 suffer painfully, when he beheld around him crying 
 want and ignorance. And Lyeff Nikolaevitch was seized 
 by the desire to alleviate, if only in a small degree, the lot 
 of his common people. He began to take their interests 
 more and more to heart, and, at last, he went over to 
 popular literature for the people. He visited the night 
 lodging-houses, compiled almanacs for the people, 
 primers and little books with popular expositions con- 
 cerning the air, the work of the sun, and so forth, and 
 so forth. 
 
 This was not a sudden leap to one side, but a delib- 
 erate turn into a path which he had previously over- 
 looked. 
 
 To use his own words, he reminded one of a man 
 who, after having chosen a familiar path, turns back. 
 Everything which had been on his left hand is now on 
 his right, and everything which had been on his right 
 hand is now on his left. 
 
 Though enthusiastically engrossed in 1891, by a work 
 which was of very great importance to him, L. N. Tolstoy, 
 nevertheless, without hesitation, cast it aside, cast aside 
 his rooted habits, which are not easily discarded at his 
 age, and went off for several months to the famine dis- 
 trict, in order to alleviate the lot of the starving. 
 
 By his own personal exertions, Lyeff Nikolaevitch 
 founded more than two hundred soup-kitchens, travel- 
 ing to and fro, over the snow-drifts, from village to vil- 
 lage, through snow-storms and snapping cold. 
 
 Not a little labor, requiring discretion, tact, energy, and
 
 LIVES AND WORKS 47 
 
 patience, was involved in the establishment of each of 
 these soup-kitchens. It was necessary to keep compli- 
 cated accounts concerning the organization, the receipt 
 of contributions, the assignment of provisions, the pro- 
 curing and despatch of various materials. 
 
 L. N. Tolstoy's appeal received responses from every 
 direction, even from abroad. Every one believed that 
 they were committing their contributions to trustworthy 
 hands. And that was a wonderful time so far as the 
 stirring up of feelings was concerned, and still awaits 
 its historian. Yet, nevertheless, it was but a drop in 
 the ocean of the people's need. It became necessary to 
 refuse, it became necessary to make a choice among the 
 starving. 
 
 L. N. Tolstoy, with his inherent energy, introduced 
 many practical novelties into the enterprise which he 
 organized, inspiring every one with his presence. But, 
 in spite of all his case-hardened endurance, he sometimes 
 reached such a state of fatigue that he could not, with- 
 out an effort, express at once the simplest thought ; he 
 could not, on the spur of the moment, put a name to the 
 thing he wanted. 
 
 " Tanya," he said to his eldest daughter, who accom- 
 panied him and shared with him all the hardships of their 
 new life, " to-morrow, without fail, we must send " 
 
 And Lyeff Nikolaevitch, in spite of his unusually 
 retentive memory, had forgotten what must be sent and 
 whither it must be sent.
 
 48 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 L. N. TOLSTOY'S love for the common people began 
 to usurp, and still usurps, a considerable portion of his 
 strength and time. He has contracted many relations 
 in that connection which it is no longer possible to break. 
 It is impossible to refuse to see a peasant, to get rid of 
 him with a gift, when he asks to have a petition to the 
 court written for him. It is impossible to put off a 
 woman with alms, when her husband dies and the grain 
 is not harvested. So L. N. Tolstoy writes the petition 
 for the peasant man, and aids the mourning peasant 
 woman to harvest the grain in the working season, 
 patiently enduring in the process the grievous pain in 
 his leg caused by an injury from a cart-wheel, as the 
 orderly endured with patience the no less grievous pain 
 for the love of his fellow-man. 
 
 But the pain from the contusion keeps increasing. 
 Countess Sophia Andreevna goes to Moscow, and, with- 
 out Lyeff Nikolaevitch's knowledge, brings back a phy- 
 sician, who declares that if one day more had been 
 allowed to elapse, a catastrophe would have ensued. 
 Lyeff Nikolaevitch's temperature has already risen to 
 40 (R6au.). He was obliged to go to bed, and remain 
 there for several weeks, which gave the world The 
 Power of Darkness. 
 
 The greater part of that piece was dictated by Lyeff 
 Nikolaevitch, and occupied several weeks. None of his 
 works came so easily to him, because he had already pre- 
 pared himself for his task by laboring in the fields, and 
 chatting with the peasants. 
 
 And to demand that he shall occupy himself exclusively 
 with polite literature is equivalent to demanding from 
 him the renunciation of his personality and the needs of 
 his soul.
 
 LIVES AND WORKS 49 
 
 And it is incomprehensible how so sensitive and cul- 
 tivated a man as Turgeneff failed to understand that 
 inward fermentation which L. N. Tolstoy was passing 
 through, and could seriously think that the author of 
 War and Peace could cease to live with the artistic 
 images, whose production constitutes for the true artist 
 as unconquerable a necessity as is blossoming for a 
 plant. 
 
 And Lyeff Tolstoy has never subdued in himself the 
 author, and has not withered up that spiritual condition 
 which is called inspiration. On the contrary, under all 
 conditions, the thirst for creation has always, as it were, 
 smoldered within him. And the only one of the Rus- 
 sian men of action with whom he can be compared, so 
 far as this unquenchable thirst is concerned, is Anton 
 Rubinstein. 
 
 While returning home one night last year, in Moscow, 
 with one of his friends, Lyeff Nikolaevitch suddenly 
 came to a halt, and, inhaling the air with avidity, he 
 exclaimed passionately : 
 
 " Heavens, how I want to write ! My brain is seeth- 
 ing with images." 
 
 " Then why this delay, Lyeff Nikolaevitch ? " inquired 
 his companion. 
 
 " Time is lacking. I have work for a hundred years, 
 and I have but three days to live." 
 
 "What do you mean, Lyeff Nikolaevitch?" 
 
 " Well, a few months longer. In any case, not long. 
 And in these remaining days I want to say something 
 fine. Perhaps God will graciously permit me not to 
 live out my allotted time in vain, but to do something 
 worthy toward the end of my days. And there is so 
 much to write about ! They say that all the interesting 
 themes are exhausted. That is not true. Here, for 
 instance " 
 
 And he began to unfold a theme which dealt with 
 one side of family relations, with which, as a matter of 
 fact, no one has as yet dealt in literature. 
 
 " There is still another subject which greatly interests 
 me," continued Lyeff Nikolaevitch with animation: "it
 
 50 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 
 
 is the intimate union of various spiritual qualities in one 
 and the same man. The man, who is, in reality, very 
 clever, keen, and noble, is at the same time very narrow, 
 petty, and insignificant. There is another interesting 
 subject, which concerns the characters of the mind. As 
 the characters of the passions are, so are also the char- 
 acters of the mind. One man has a very vast mind, but 
 he sees things only under a certain aspect. And things 
 which are easily comprehensible for a smaller mind are 
 unattainable for him. Hence proceed the various sharp 
 conflicts in social life." 
 
 Lyeff Nikolaevitch's companion inquired : 
 
 "Have you begun to work out any one of these 
 themes ? " 
 
 " No, everything, so far, is merely a project I am 
 occupied with other work at present" 
 
 A few days after this conversation, a lady inquired : 
 
 " Is it true, Lyeff Nikolaevitch, that you are engaged 
 in writing a novel of Caucasian life, in which one of 
 Schamyl's companions in arms figures ? " 
 
 "Yes, yes, I am writing. I am writing everything," 
 replied Lyeff Nikolaevitch, hastily and reluctantly. Then 
 he added, in an explanatory tone : " I say seriously that 
 I am writing everything. You ask : Am I writing any 
 sort of a story ? I am. Am not I writing a romance ? 
 I am writing a romance also. And am not I thinking 
 of writing a play ? I am also writing a play. I am 
 writing everything." 
 
 And, in reality, he is always writing, and writing a 
 great deal. 
 
 But he is very far from committing to print every- 
 thing he writes. He is very exacting toward himself. 
 
 In 1896 L. N. Tolstoy completed a novel over which 
 he had labored long. Those who had heard extracts 
 from this novel thought that, in the force of his descrip- 
 tion, our famous writer had taken another step in ad- 
 vance, and were convinced that, within a short time, the 
 novel would appear in print. But he was in no haste 
 to publish his new work, as he intended to labor a little 
 more upon it.
 
 LIVES AND WORKS 51 
 
 But when he was questioned, lately, about the belated 
 novel, he shook his head, and said, in the tone which 
 people use in speaking of things which possess no inter- 
 est for them : 
 
 " No, no, I am done with that ! The theme is not 
 mine, and the manner is of the routine sort which I 
 must abandon." 
 
 Lyeff Nikolaevitch, like the majority of writers, bears 
 himself with some eagerness toward literary themes. 
 When he hears a characteristic story, he immediately 
 tries it on, as it were, and admires it all round, like a 
 good carpenter inspecting good, dry timber. He once 
 told us about an interesting law-case, which took place 
 in the Moscow court-room. When he had finished his 
 story, L. N. remarked : 
 
 " You see, there 's a regular Maupassant story, ready- 
 made to hand. It is a genuine godsend for some young 
 writer. However, perhaps I shall use it myself," he 
 added hastily, as though afraid that some one would 
 appropriate the interesting subject. Some time later, 
 I happened to hear that he had again narrated the 
 same episode, and I was struck by several artistic de- 
 tails, which had already crept into it during the interval, 
 from the artistic laboratory of Lyeff Nikolaevitch, pos- 
 sibly against his will. 
 
 But a great deal is required before any theme be- 
 comes an object of his creative powers. First of all it 
 must be distinguished by novelty, clearness, and inward 
 worth. Then, the side of life embraced must be well 
 known to Lyeff Nikolaevitch ; he does not like to write 
 by " hearsay." In conclusion, as a final condition, it is 
 indispensable that the subject shall take possession of 
 him, as a cough takes possession of a man. Then only 
 can he set to work, and yield himself up to it with the 
 enthusiasm of the true artist. 
 
 " What a splendid hunt we had to-day after that gray 
 hare ! " he said, with animation, to his wife, emerging 
 from his study after work, and with an aspect as though 
 he really had been engaged in a successful hunt after 
 a gray hare. (The hunter's pulse still beats in L. Tol-
 
 52 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 
 
 stoy, but he suppresses the inclination in himself, be- 
 cause of artistic demands.) 
 
 In his manner of working, Lyeff Nikolaevitch reminds 
 one of the old painters. Having settled upon the plan 
 of the work, and collected a great number of studies, he 
 first makes a charcoal sketch, as it were, and writes 
 rapidly, without thinking of particulars. He gives 
 what he has thus written, to have a clean copy made, 
 to Countess Sophia Andreevna, or to one of his daugh- 
 ters, or to some one of his friends to whom this work 
 will afford pleasure. 
 
 Lyeff Nikolaevitch usually writes on quarto sheets of 
 plain paper, of an inferior quality, in a large, involved 
 hand, and sometimes covers as many as twenty pages 
 in one day, which makes more than half a sheet of 
 printed matter. But he forms no fixed habits either in 
 regard to paper or pens, and when one of the commer- 
 cial firms hit upon the idea of launching upon the 
 world the Tolstoy pen, it appeared that Lyeff Nikolae- 
 vitch had no opinion on that matter. He works chiefly 
 in the morning, between nine o'clock and three, because 
 he regards that interval as the very best for work. It 
 is almost impossible to get an interview with him at 
 that time, if Countess Sophia Andreevna is at home. 
 She carefully guards his working hours, and one may 
 say, without sinning, that she would even refuse to 
 admit a king to Lyeff Nikolaevitch, if the king would 
 interfere with his work. In this respect, it is not likely 
 that any other Russian author has had so faithful a 
 body-guard as has Lyeff Nikolaevitch in the person of 
 his anxious wife. 
 
 But they differ in their views of the world. He repre- 
 sents, as it were, heaven in his family, and she represents 
 the earth. 
 
 But they live together on loving terms. She cares for 
 him like an indefatigable nurse, makes his clothes with 
 her own hands, and only parts from him for the briefest 
 possible time. He bears himself in a Christian spirit 
 toward her weaknesses, and highly prizes her sincerity 
 and frankness.
 
 LIVES AND WORKS 53 
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 IN February, 1895, the Tolstoys' youngest son died, 
 seven-year-old Vanetchka (Johnny), a very charming 
 little boy, who, in some degree, resembled his father in 
 his outward appearance. Lyeff Nikolaevitch bore him- 
 self toward this painful blow with Christian resignation. 
 Several of his acquaintances who talked with him during 
 those sad days did not even learn of his loss. But 
 Sophia Andreevna was stupefied with her grief, and bore 
 it with difficulty. Life lost its interest for her, and she 
 prayed God for death. During this sharp crisis, Lyeff 
 Nikolaevitch treated her with that peculiar compassion 
 and delicacy of heart which are so captivating in him. 
 Once, it even seemed to me that he was not sincere, for 
 the sake of not paining Sophia Andreevna. This is the 
 way it was. 
 
 When spring approaches, Lyeff Nikolaevitch gener- 
 ally makes all haste to leave the city for Yasnaya Po- 
 lyana. He does not like the city, and in the springtime 
 he feels an unconquerable loathing for it. But in the 
 spring of 1895 he remained until June in Moscow, for 
 the sake of his grief-stricken wife, who did not wish to 
 depart for the country until the boys had finished their 
 examinations. At the end of May, I happened to call 
 upon Lyeff Nikolaevitch. He looked worn out. As I 
 was aware that he loves the country in spring, I said: 
 
 " I think you are exhausted here." 
 
 At that moment Sophia Andreevna entered the room. 
 
 " Not in the least. I feel capitally here," exclaimed 
 Lyeff Nikolaevitch, quickly and loudly. 
 
 She cast a grateful glance at him, and said : 
 
 "I do not know how you feel. But it grieves me 
 deeply that you should be living so late in Moscow for 
 my sake in this heat and turmoil." 
 
 " You are fretting yourself for nothing. I feel very 
 well here."
 
 54 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 
 
 But perhaps he really did feel very well at that 
 moment. 
 
 When the French writer Richet was visiting the Tol- 
 stoys, he is said to have remarked to Sophia Andreevna 
 that she could not possibly have found time for personal 
 happiness by the side of so great a husband. But it 
 seems to me that that is a mere phrase. Within the 
 narrow limits of human happiness, Lyeff Nikolaevitch 
 and Sophia Andreevna have been happy in their day, 
 and have got out of life, if not all that they might have 
 got, at any rate, a very great deal. He has given her 
 a clever, healthy, faithful, and passionately loving hus- 
 band. She, in the very prime of his powers, gave him 
 a quiet happiness, untroubled by storms, with a long 
 series of domestic joys, which were afterward reflected 
 in his works. And the future historian of Russian litera- 
 ture can hardly pass over Countess Sophia Andreevna 
 without mention. 
 
 Count Sollogub, during one of his visits to Yasnaya 
 Polyana, once said to Lyeff Nikolaevitch : 
 
 "What a lucky man you are, my dear fellow! Fate 
 has given you everything that one could even dream : a 
 splendid family, a charming, loving wife, universal fame, 
 health everything." 
 
 " But that is not because Fate is particularly partial to 
 me," replied Lyeff Nikolaevitch, "but because I have 
 always wished only for that which God has sent me. 
 He has given me that sort of a wife, and I am satisfied 
 with her, and want no other." 
 
 In consequence of Countess Sophia Andreevna hav- 
 ing minutely studied her husband's habits for a period 
 of many years, she knows as soon as Lyeff Nikolaevitch 
 emerges from his cabinet, by his very aspect, how his 
 work has thriven, in what frame of mind he is. And if 
 it is necessary to copy anything for him, she immediately 
 lays aside all her own affairs, of which her hands are 
 always full ; and no matter what happens that day, at a 
 certain hour, she will, without fail, have copied legibly 
 all that is needed, and laid it on his writing-table.
 
 LIVES AND WORKS 55 
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 AFTER his morning labors Lyeff Nikolaevitch gener- 
 ally goes out into the air, and if he is in Moscow, he be- 
 takes himself on foot into the city and visits his friends, or 
 rides on horseback, or on his bicycle, according to the 
 state of the weather. Muscular exercise in the open air 
 is, for him, a necessity, whose place nothing else can 
 take, but the satisfaction of which is, sometimes, allied 
 with some risk, and causes Sophia Andreevna many 
 anxious moments. Lyeff Nikolaevitch has gone off on 
 horseback, or on his bicycle, and has promised to return 
 at a certain time. Sophia Andreevna begins to get 
 uneasy, and gloomy thoughts assail her: "At Lyeff 
 Nikolaevitch' s age, it is so easy to fall from his bicycle 
 or from a skittish horse, and receive fatal injuries. At 
 his time of life, he should not undertake such excursions, 
 because his muscles have already become like a thread- 
 bare fabric. But what is one to do with him ? Is it 
 possible to dissuade him from anything ? " 
 
 Her hearers, in part, share Sophia Andreevna's views, 
 and gradually become infected with alarm. 
 
 But Lyeff Nikolaevitch enters, as usual, with fresh 
 animation after his trip, and the clouds instantly vanish. 
 
 Once, something in the nature of a conspiracy was 
 concocted against Lyeff Nikolaevitch's riding a bicycle. 
 A woman doctor was visiting the Tolstoys, and thought 
 that it was very hazardous for Lyeff Nikolaevitch to 
 ride thirty versts on his wheel. It so happened that, 
 on that very day, an English illustrated journal had 
 arrived which contained an article about the injurious 
 effects of bicycle riding. 
 
 It was decided that I, as though by accident, should 
 begin a conversation on bicycle riding ; the woman doc- 
 tor was to back me up, and state her views concerning
 
 56 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 
 
 the wheel, and reenforce them by quotations from the 
 English journal, which was to be lying open there, for 
 greater persuasiveness. We had planned everything 
 very craftily, and Lyeff Nikolaevitch was immediately 
 to tumble into the nets spread for him. But our plot, 
 like the majority of plots, broke down ; and, principally, 
 through my fault. At the most critical moment, when 
 I ought to have made my sort of " start," I felt ashamed, 
 as though I were about to make a fool of the man whom 
 I deeply respect and love, and I maintained an obstinate 
 silence, paying no heed to the signals. Then the 
 woman doctor entered, single-handed, upon the execu- 
 tion of the plot. Lyeff Nikolaevitch listened to her 
 attentively, and entirely agreed with her, that it was not 
 right to abuse bicycle riding ; then, probably suspecting 
 in what direction the " last deductions of experimental 
 science " pointed, he said that, twenty years previously, 
 Professor Zakharin had strictly forbidden him all physi- 
 cal exercise, under penalty of its resulting badly for him. 
 
 " But," added Lyeff Nikolaevitch, " the result would 
 certainly have been bad for me long ago, if I had obeyed 
 Zakharin, and stopped giving my muscles the work 
 which strengthens me, gives me sound sleep, a spirited 
 frame of mind, and has made me like the horse out at 
 grass. Only let the horse rest, and feed him, and he is 
 fit for work again." 
 
 And, as though in confirmation of the justice of his 
 views, Lyeff Nikolaevitch, with a brisk, youthful step, 
 went off to his study, where he always has on hand 
 some unfinished work which must be completed in 
 haste.
 
 /-/ 
 
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 nonepeKi CHHHH .loma^ii. IloJiexaei xa 
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 HHRHTa CT> TtXT> 
 
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 / norouy qio OHI MHOFO KBZTMW, 
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 ne MYfljii Ha He3 6o.ibnioro 
 
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 f ITO iyBCTBOBajn ceda CJIJIIEO ycia- 
 canorb ^cimia H OHT> . 
 
 )m " Master and Man "
 
 LIVES AND WORKS 57 
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 WHEN Lyeff Nikolaevitch's new work, cleanly copied 
 out, makes its appearance on his work-table, it is sub- 
 jected to instant remodeling. But again, it is still in 
 the nature of a charcoal sketch. The manuscript is 
 speedily spotted all over with erasures and interpola- 
 tions between the lines, at the sides, and at the bottom, 
 and with transfers to other pages. Whole sentences 
 are replaced by others, which, like flashes of lightning, 
 sometimes illuminate the image presented from a new 
 point of view. The work, cleanly copied out for the 
 second time, suffers the same fate. The same thing 
 happens with the third. Some chapters Lyeff Nikolae- 
 vitch writes over more than half a score of times. Mean- 
 while, he hardly troubles himself at all about the 
 external workmanship, and even entertains a sort of 
 repugnance to everything very finely finished in art. 
 
 "Often, all that that results in is, that it dries up 
 thought, and injures the impression," he says. 
 
 And, arming himself more and more, as he writes, 
 with his recollections and with new information concern- 
 ing the question with which he is dealing, Lyeff Niko- 
 laevitch toils doggedly, searchingly, and persistently 
 over every chapter, taking only brief breaks for rest, 
 and, generally, resorting to the laying out of a suit at 
 Patience in moments of perplexity. 
 
 His intense seeking after inward clearness in every 
 hero whom he depicts constitutes, at that time, Lyeff 
 Nikolaevitch's chief anxiety, and he is fond of saying in 
 this connection, that gold is obtained by strenuous sift- 
 ing and washing. 
 
 Lyeff Nikolaevitch succeeds in dashing off only very 
 few scenes at the first effort, under the influence of vivid 
 impressions. In that manner was written the descrip-
 
 58 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 
 
 tion of the horse-race in Anna Karenina, under the influ- 
 ence of Prince Obolensky's captivating narration. 
 
 As the rewriting and correction proceed, some details 
 stand forth more clearly, but others seem to withdraw 
 farther and farther into the background. 
 
 When, by dint of intense labor, Lyeff Nikolaevitch 
 has obtained a certain degree of lucidity, he reads his 
 new work aloud in a circle of people intimately con- 
 nected with him, in order that he may profit by their 
 comments, before the book has appeared in print 
 When he had completed The Power of Darkness, he 
 read his drama to the peasants, but derived very few 
 instructive hints from that reading. In the most touch- 
 ing parts of the drama, which Lyeff Nikolaevitch can- 
 not read without tears, several of his hearers suddenly 
 began to laugh, and chilled the reader. 
 
 The severest critic of L. N. Tolstoy's new works is, 
 generally, Countess Sophia Andreevna, who expresses 
 her opinion with her characteristic straightforwardness. 
 Lyeff Nikolaevitch sometimes agrees with her, but 
 sometimes stoutly defends the position which he has 
 taken up. 
 
 The long-postponed novel, previously mentioned, was 
 rejected by Sophia Andreevna. One day, as we were 
 drinking tea, the conversation turned on Lyeff Nikolae- 
 vitch' s writings. That day Sophia Andreevna had the 
 proofs of War and Peace for a new edition, and wore a 
 rather weary air. One of the guests inquired whether 
 reading the proofs of War and Peace gave her pleasure 
 or not. 
 
 " Some passages, yes," said she ; " but some did not 
 please me formerly, and do not please me now." 
 
 " Which, for instance ? " 
 
 "Just to-day I read the proofs where Pierre Bezu- 
 khoff, when taken prisoner, begins to laugh. That is 
 forced. One cannot laugh at such a moment." 
 
 At that instant, Lyeff Nikolaevitch approached the 
 tea-table and asked what we were talking about. Sophia 
 Andreevna repeated her accusation, with precision. 
 
 "Why do you assert positively," he inquired, "that
 
 LIVES AND WORKS 59 
 
 it is impossible to laugh at such moments ? Why, to- 
 day, I was reading in the Archives, about the Decem- 
 brist Batenkoff, who, when he was put in prison, burst 
 into a loud laugh, and said : ' You are locking me up 
 because of my ideas. But my ideas are not here they 
 are roaming about in freedom.' Pierre might have 
 laughed in exactly the same way." 
 
 "No, that is false. At such a moment it is impossi- 
 ble to laugh. And I do not understand how you can 
 assert such a thing." 
 
 " And I do not understand how you can fail to com- 
 prehend that it is impossible to reject so stubbornly that 
 which you do not understand." 
 
 " That is my opinion." 
 
 Lyeff Nikolaevitch put an end to the dispute, and 
 after the lapse of a few minutes he had imperceptibly 
 banished the little clouds which had gathered in the air. 
 
 After every altercation, and, especially, after every in- 
 justice done to him, a strong reaction begins within him, 
 and he passes into that charming, serene frame of mind 
 of which I have already spoken. It is opportune to 
 mention here, that after the well-known quarrel between 
 Turgeneff and L. N. Tolstoy at Fet-Schenschin's, the 
 quarrel which raised the question of a duel, and con- 
 cerning which Turgeneff himself afterward said that 
 he behaved like a naughty little boy, Lyeff Nikolae- 
 vitch, of his own initiative, wrote to Turgeneff, under 
 the influence of a kindly impulse, a conciliatory letter. 
 But the letter was not transmitted to Turgeneff, and 
 their strained relations continued for some time longer.
 
 60 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 As soon as the rumor gets into circulation that Lyeff 
 Tolstoy has finished a new work, men and women ama- 
 teurs begin to swoop down upon him from all quarters, 
 with requests that he will put his new book at their dis- 
 posal, because of the particular circumstances in which 
 they find themselves placed. And he generally does 
 give his new book to some one. 
 
 But his labors over his new work do not end here. 
 There is still the proof-reading, which usually calls forth 
 in L. N. Tolstoy a flood of intensified activity. During 
 the period of time while the manuscript has been in the 
 press, so many events have occurred, so many fresh 
 observations have accumulated which illuminate some 
 sides of the question dealt with from an entirely new 
 point of view. But the margins of the proof-sheets are 
 so narrow, the time for correction is so short, and re- 
 straining the pressure of new thoughts, economizing 
 every possible scrap of paper, Lyeff Nikolaevitch con- 
 verts the proof-sheets into a closely woven net of correc- 
 tions. The same thing happens to the second proofs. 
 And it may be said, without exaggeration, that if Lyeff 
 Nikolaevitch were to have ninety-nine sets of proofs for 
 any one of his works, the ninety-ninth proof would be 
 speckled with corrections. 
 
 The sense of self-criticism is strongly developed in 
 him, and he always perceives his mistakes clearly on 
 the following day. But in the proof-sheets his mental 
 sharp-sightedness is still further sharpened, and some 
 of the chapters come out altered beyond recognition. 
 
 One day, when the subject of the conversation was 
 intense toil over mental productions, Lyeff Nikolaevitch 
 said : 
 
 " No trifle must be neglected in art, because, some-
 
 LIVES AND WORKS 61 
 
 times, some half-torn-off button may illuminate a certain 
 side of the life of a given person. And the button must 
 be depicted without fail. But all the efforts, and the 
 half-torn-off button, must be directed exclusively to the 
 inward substance of the matter, and must not divert 
 the attention from the principal and important part to 
 particulars and trifles, as so often happens. One of the 
 contemporary writers, in narrating the history of Joseph 
 and the wife of Potiphar, would assuredly not miss the 
 opportunity to shine by his knowledge of life, and would 
 write : ' Come to me, said Potiphar's wife, languidly, 
 stretching out toward Joseph her hand delicate with 
 the perfumed massage, with such and such a bracelet, 
 and so forth.' And all these details not only would not 
 illuminate the substance of the matter more clearly, but 
 would infallibly extinguish it." 
 
 One of L. N. Tolstoy's acquaintances compares his 
 work with viands prepared by certain thrifty house- 
 wives, who pay little heed to the outward attractiveness 
 of the food, but concentrate their attention chiefly upon 
 seeing that the provisions are fresh, and cleanly cooked, 
 and that the food excels in its nutritive qualities. 
 
 And, in fact, Lyeff Nikolaevitch troubles himself very 
 little about the outward attractiveness of his works, 
 often heaping up one incidental proposition upon an- 
 other, fitting them out with repetitions of one and the 
 same word, and absolutely disregarding various aca- 
 demical rules concerning style. But, on the other hand, 
 when it is a question of " freshness " and "purity," there 
 is no end to his exacting demands. 
 
 I once happened to discover to what lengths his ex- 
 actingness goes. The conversation, somehow, turned 
 upon the Molokani l who, as is well known, do not recog- 
 nize any books except those of a religious character. 
 We were talking in particular about this, and one of 
 those present severely condemned the one-sidedness of 
 the Molokani. Lyeff Nikolaevitch was in one of those 
 mental states which come upon people only after great 
 internal changes and important conquests over self. A 
 
 1 A religious sect the milk-drinkers, literally. TR,
 
 62 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 
 
 man in that state of mind seems already to have passed 
 over the threshold of life, and to have placed himself 
 above many human weaknesses. Communion with peo- 
 ple who are in that condition affords such lofty delight, 
 that there is nothing which can be compared with it. 
 Their thoughts are penetrating, their feelings are pro- 
 found and lucid. The most commonplace words acquire 
 in their mouths remarkable force. The most gloomy 
 situations acquire clearness and relief. 
 
 Such moments of mental illumination always seem 
 to transfigure Lyeff Nikolaevitch's exterior. His harsh 
 features beam, and take on a reflection of spiritual 
 beauty. He becomes gracious, benevolent, listens pa- 
 tiently, speaks in a calm, friendly manner, with head 
 slightly bowed and hands clasped. In the midst of the 
 conversation, when his interlocutor is at a loss to express 
 any thought, he gently lays his hand on the other's 
 shoulder, or on his knee, and by this movement alone 
 creates around him the atmosphere of intimacy. 
 
 Any one who has seen him at such moments forgives 
 him for all the asperities of his character, and becomes 
 permeated with the most profound feeling toward him 
 that one man can entertain for another man. 
 
 Every remark of L. N. Tolstoy's at such moments 
 acquires special value, because he reveals himself wholly, 
 as it were, in his spiritual blossoming. 
 
 Lyeff Nikolaevitch listened attentively to his compan- 
 ion, who disproved of the Molokani, because they avoid 
 worldly books, and then said thoughtfully : 
 
 " But ought we to condemn them for that ? When 
 you sometimes reflect how many lies are piled up in our 
 books, you find it difficult to say where there is most of 
 it, in life or in books. And you sometimes take your 
 pen, and write something after this fashion : ' Early in 
 the morning Ivan Nikititch rose from his bed, and 
 called his son to him.' And all at once you feel 
 ashamed of yourself, and you throw down your pen. 
 Why lie, old man ? For that did not occur, and you 
 know no Ivan Nikititch. Then why, in your old age, 
 shall you have recourse to lies? Write about what
 
 LIVES AND WORKS 63 
 
 has happened, what you have actually seen and lived 
 through. No lies are needed. There are so many of 
 them." 
 
 With such esthetic demands, of course it is impossible 
 to write a romance every year. Even if Lyeff Nikolae- 
 vitch wished to do that now he could not, in all probabil- 
 ity, because he has become so thoroughly imbued with 
 the habit of endeavoring to obtain a certain lucidity of 
 subject that he sometimes even writes his letters over 
 several times, and meditates upon them with concen- 
 trated attention, and writes them with as much feeling 
 as that with which a bridegroom goes forth to his 
 wedding. 
 
 On another occasion I happened to hear Lyeff Niko- 
 laevitch's opinion concerning his works, during a stroll 
 in the fields. He retarded his steps for a minute, and 
 said, with a tinge of bitterness : 
 
 " You write, and write all sorts of novels and tales, 
 and when you look at the life of our educated class, and 
 compare it with the toilsome life of the common people, 
 you are seized with shame that you are busying your- 
 self with such trifles as writing for the educated class, 
 and you long to renounce it all for good." 
 
 I tried to reply : 
 
 " But how can we renounce that which has been given 
 to us by God, in the quality of His loftiest gift ? And is 
 it possible that it is not worth our while to work for the 
 educated class ? A conviction has arisen that it was not 
 the Prussian army, but the German scientist, who con- 
 quered France. And therein lies a certain amount of 
 truth. Without enlightenment there cannot be that full 
 understanding which alone can give to a man power and 
 firmness. And so long as our people are uneducated the 
 Power of Darkness will long hang over them, with all its 
 monstrous attributes. But who, if not the educated class, 
 can introduce enlightened principles among the masses 
 of the common people ? And do not you, by aiding the 
 growth of education through your works, serve the com- 
 mon people also, simultaneously ? You certainly do serve 
 them. Therefore do not turn away from us as from
 
 64 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 
 
 unworthy persons, with your divine gift, and do not 
 deprive us of the fine specimens of your creative power." 
 
 We were walking briskly, in consequence of which 
 I breathed brokenly, and my speech assumed a pas- 
 sionate tone. Lyeff Nikolaevitch made no reply, and 
 for some time we proceeded in silence. Then began a 
 conversation on the problems of art. He was then medi- 
 tating upon his book, What is Art? This work had 
 been projected by him in the '70' s, at the request of a 
 St. Petersburg journalist. But when he then set about 
 the work, Lyeff Nikolaevitch perceived that many fun- 
 damental questions of art were not, as yet, sufficiently 
 fixed in his mind. And only after the lapse of seven- 
 teen years, when everything had thoroughly fermented 
 in his mind, and had quieted down, did he at last take 
 up the work already begun. His writing-table and 
 shelves were loaded with piles of all possible sorts of 
 folios, which treated of art in Russian and foreign 
 languages. 
 
 Thanks to his numerous friends and admirers, he was 
 able to acquaint himself with very rare and precious 
 publications, unattainable for most people, and, in the 
 course of several months of preparation, he seemed to 
 live exclusively in his new work, gladly discussing it, 
 and developing in conversation the theses he had in 
 view. This work cost him about two years of assiduous 
 labor.
 
 LIVES AND WORKS 65 
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 AFTER the appearance of his article upon art, printed, 
 in an abbreviated form, in the Moscow journal, Ques- 
 tions of Philosophy and Psychology, Lyeff Nikolaevitch 
 received a number of sympathetic letters, from persons 
 whose opinions he could not but value in the matter 
 of art. 
 
 Thus the well-known critic, V. Stasoff, wrote to him 
 that, although he disagreed with him on several points 
 in his new work, he, nevertheless, considered it a notable 
 work which presented the last word of the nineteenth 
 century, of that great century which could end in such 
 unprecedented truth, unknown throughout the course of 
 many ages. 
 
 The artist Ilya Ry6pin wrote to L. N. Tolstoy under 
 the vivid impression of the newly read article : 
 
 " Adored Lyeff Nikolaevitch ! I have just read What 
 is Art ? and am still under the influence of the powerful 
 impression of this mighty work of yours. If it is possible 
 not to agree with some particulars and examples, on the 
 other hand, the book as a whole and the presentation of 
 questions are so profound and indisputable, that one 
 becomes cheerful and is permeated with joy. Religion 
 has been discovered that is the greatest deed of your 
 life. And I can say without hypocrisy, I am happy in 
 having lived until this day." 
 
 All these expressions of sympathy touched Lyeff 
 Nikolaevitch. Yet he bears himself with good-will 
 toward the critics who do not agree with his principal 
 propositions, but who, nevertheless, introduce his work 
 to their readers. And only when a criticism was delib- 
 erately hostile or too vehement did he, without comment, 
 lead the conversation to another theme. But one day, 
 after reading a criticism of that sort, written with particu- 
 lar irritation, he burst out laughing, and said :
 
 66 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 
 
 "When you read about yourself, you, nevertheless, 
 prize sympathy and are chagrined at blame. But in 
 this special case, the article has given me pleasure. 
 You feel as though you had tumbled right into the 
 middle of an ant-heap, and they were angrily swarming 
 about." 
 
 What Lyeff Nikolaevitch cannot endure is unmeasured 
 praise addressed to him, and, in general, all sorts of 
 exaggeration in the expression of feeling. This always 
 embarrasses him, and he then becomes curt and disa- 
 greeable. In general he does not like any expressions 
 of approbation which have the odor of incense. In 
 such cases his pride seems to rebel because an effort is 
 being made to capture him, not with the language of 
 the soul, but with the honey of the tongue. One of 
 his visitors began one day to tell him about some remark- 
 able revival, called forth by the appearance in print of 
 Master and Workman. 
 
 L. N. Tolstoy frowned, and applying to himself the 
 words of Phocion, he interrupted the speaker : 
 
 " Have I then written something very stupid ? " 
 
 As he is very exacting toward his own works, and 
 regards art as the most powerful of all means in the 
 matter of disseminating good sentiments among people, 
 L. N. Tolstoy will not tolerate any carelessness in art, 
 and will sooner pardon lack of talent than lack of serious 
 bearing toward any matter. And one instance of gross 
 carelessness in the works of any person is enough to 
 make Lyeff Nikolaevitch forever turn his back upon 
 that author. 
 
 The conversation fell one day upon Melnikoff-Pe- 
 tchersky, to whom L. N. Tolstoy bore himself negatively. 
 I inquired : 
 
 " Lyeff Nikolaevitch, why are you so indifferent 
 toward Melnikoff-Petchersky ? He has written some 
 very good things." 
 
 " Perhaps," said Lyeff Nikolaevitch with a suggestion 
 of doubt, and immediately added : " However, I do not 
 think so. One of his books once fell into my hands ; 
 I opened it, and hit upon the following : ' The Russian
 
 LIVES AND WORKS 67 
 
 peasant cuts down a whole oak in order that he may 
 make himself a cart-shaft or an axle from a bough.' 
 Then I shut the book and said to myself : ' I Ve had 
 enough of Melnikoff.' " 
 
 One may not agree with some of Lyeff Nikolaevitch's 
 assertions about books and people. But I have never 
 chanced to observe that he exhibited a sarcastic, mali- 
 cious feeling toward any one, or that the opinions ex- 
 pressed by him were tinged with the color of his rela- 
 tions toward the people. Thus, while he always bore 
 himself with particular warmth toward Lyeskoff and 
 N. Strakhoff, as men, both during their lifetime and 
 after their death, he invariably said that there was a 
 good-sized spoonful of tar in their cask of honey. 1 This 
 independence in his judgments, and the sincere straight- 
 forwardness with which L. N. Tolstoy bears himself 
 toward everything, always impart to his words a peculiar 
 value. 
 
 1 A Russian proverb, " A spoonful of tar in a cask of honey," indicating 
 that a very li ttle of a bad thing will spoil a great deal of a good thing. TR..
 
 68 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 LYEFF NIKOLAEVITCH'S constant aspiration toward 
 veracity and lucidity in his writings demands much 
 time, not only in the writing itself, but also in the prepar- 
 atory work. He tries to find in life the confirmation 
 of the situations which he has invented, and immediately 
 rejects everything imaginary when life furnishes a ready- 
 made episode. This was the case with Anna Karenina, 
 whom L. N. Tolstoy did not, at first, intend to kill. But 
 an analogous romantic episode happened near Yasnaya 
 Polyana, where the unhappy heroine. Anna, threw her- 
 self under the railway train. This impelled L. N. Tolstoy 
 to a fresh treatment of the question, and considerably 
 modified his original plan. 
 
 Anna Karenina was begun under the following circum- 
 stances. One evening, in 1873, Lyeff Nikolaevitch 
 entered the drawing-room as his eldest son, SergyeY, was 
 reading aloud to his wife Byelkins Story, by Pushkin. The 
 reading ceased when Lyeff Nikolaevitch made his ap- 
 pearance. He asked what they were reading and opened 
 the book, and when he read, " The guests assembled at 
 the country-house," he went into ecstasies. 
 
 "That is the way one ought always to begin to 
 write ! " said he. " That immediately arouses the 
 reader's interest." 
 
 A relative of the Tolstoys declared that it would 
 be a very good thing if L. N. T. would write a novel of 
 high life. That evening Lyeff Nikolaevitch wrote, 
 "Everything was in a tumult at the house of the 
 Oblonskys." 
 
 And then, when he began to write the romance, he 
 placed at the beginning : " All happy families resemble 
 each other ; every unhappy family is unhappy after its 
 -own fashion."
 
 LIVES AND WORKS 69 
 
 The Death of Ivan Hitch was written by Lyeff Niko- 
 laevitch under the influence of a narration by one of 
 the members of the Moscow Court, concerning the death 
 of his comrade, Ivan Hitch M. 
 
 The Kreutzer Sonata had its origin in the following 
 circumstances. The artist I. Ryepin, and the actor An- 
 dreeff-Burlak, who made Lyeff Nikolaevitch laugh until 
 he ached with his amusing stories, were visiting at 
 Yasnaya Polyana, and one evening, Mme. G., who had 
 just arrived from abroad, played the Kreutzer Sonata 
 with such brilliant expressiveness, that she produced 
 upon every one, and, in particular, upon Lyeff Nikolae- 
 vitch, a very profound impression, under the influence 
 of which he said to I. Ryepin : 
 
 " Let us write The Kreutzer Sonata. You with the 
 brush, I with the pen, and Vasily Nikolaevitch (Andreeff- 
 Burlak) shall read it on the stage, where your picture 
 shall stand." 
 
 This proposal called forth general approbation. 
 
 After a time, Lyeff Nikolaevitch, with his character- 
 istic perseverance, set to work at what, probably, had 
 long been seething in his brain. 
 
 The Power of Darkness was taken, in its entirety, 
 from a case in court which occurred in Tula. 
 
 The Fruits of Civilization was written for amateur 
 theatricals at Yasnaya Polyana. At first the play con- 
 sisted of two acts, and was called She was crafty. But 
 as the rehearsals, in which Lyeff Nikolaevitch took an 
 active part, proceeded, he improved and amplified the 
 piece, in conformity with the number of the acting per- 
 sonages. During the performance of the play, several 
 of the actors gave him so much pleasure by their acting 
 that some of the scenes were forever graven on his 
 memory. He was especially enthusiastic over his exam- 
 ining magistrate, L., who took the part of one of the 
 peasants. 
 
 " He came to Yasnaya Polyana," Lyeff Nikolaevitch 
 relates, " and all day long he hardly spoke to any one, 
 but kept walking about with drooping head. But on 
 the stage he surpassed them all, and out of his small
 
 7 o HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 
 
 part he made something so fine that I had not even 
 foreseen it when I wrote that part." 
 
 And, growing animated, according to his custom when 
 true genius is under discussion, Lyeff Nikolaevitch be- 
 gan to recall the playing of the old Moscow actors: 
 Shstchepkin, Martynoff, and others. He expressed 
 himself with particular warmth about Martynoff : - 
 
 " He was a great artist," said he, " uniting in himself 
 three precious qualities : talent, wit, and the capacity 
 for persistent labor. In A. Potyekhin's play, Stolen 
 Goods bring no Luck, Martynoff was so incomparable, 
 that I, although I was only then beginning my literary 
 career, started the applause, and we organized an ova- 
 tion for him." 
 
 And when Lyeff Nikolaevitch said this, his face lost 
 its stern character, and kindled with the youthful, cap- 
 tivating flame of enthusiasm. 
 
 I chanced to behold L. N. Tolstoy a second time in 
 that state during April of last year, when the talented 
 sculptor, Prince P. Trubetskoy, was in Moscow, having 
 come thither from Italy, where he always lives. Prince 
 Trubetskoy expressed a desire to make a bust of Lyeff 
 Nikolaevitch. When I came to Tolstoy, the bust had 
 been begun, and was standing in the dining-room, down- 
 stairs, covered with damp cloths. 
 
 " You have not heard of the sculptor, Trubetskoy ? " 
 asked Lyeff Nikolaevitch, as he bade me welcome. 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Then come with me and I will show you something. 
 What wonderful talent ! " said L. N., becoming ani- 
 mated. And with swift, lively steps, he led me to the 
 lower dining-room, striding down several steps of the 
 staircase at a time. In the dining-room Lyeff Nikolae- 
 vitch went up to the veiled bust, and, without ceasing to 
 talk animatedly about Prince P. Trubetskoy's excep- 
 tional talent, he began, with irresolute mien, to free the 
 bust from the damp cloths. And, in fact, even from 
 the work which Prince Trubetskoy had done in a few 
 hours, it was possible to judge of this sculptor's re- 
 markable talent. Before me were two Lyeff Tolstoys :
 
 LIVES AND WORKS 71 
 
 one living, speaking, impressionable ; the other speech- 
 less, motionless, but as familiar to me as the first. 
 
 With profound feeling I divided my attention between 
 the superb work of man and the master-creation of 
 nature, that had sent forth so splendid and artistic a 
 temperament, which, at the age of seventy, can flame 
 so infectiously with the fire of pure ecstasy.
 
 72 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 THE hot and passionate temperament wherewith na- 
 ture endowed L. N. Tolstoy has not been destroyed by 
 outward influences to the present time. One day, not 
 long ago, a horse grew restive under him. He is a 
 good horseman, and loves horses after the manner of 
 a coachman carefully and tenderly, and understands 
 capitally how to manage them. He knows their nature, 
 their habits, and their tricks, and sometimes it even 
 seems as though he understood their language. But, in 
 this case, nothing was of any avail. The horse reared 
 and backed. All at once, Lyeff Nikolaevitch straight- 
 ened up, his eyes flashed, and the whip descended, 
 hissing through the air, upon the horse. The horse 
 sprang forward, and a minute later no one would have 
 believed that this plainly garbed, modest old man, with 
 a white beard, could be so menacing. But one thing 
 may be asserted with truth, that this affair did not pass 
 off without leaving its traces upon Lyeff Nikolaevitch, 
 for, with his hot temperament, and pugnacious, self- 
 willed character, he at the same time possesses a re- 
 markably sensitive conscience, which suffers tortures at 
 every act of violence. 
 
 In this chain of seething, imperious instincts linked 
 with delicate spiritual organization lies the profound 
 tragicness of Tolstoy's personality. Born with strong 
 passions, and with a character in the highest degree 
 elastic, mettlesome, and self-willed, presenting in his 
 person in every respect man raised, as it were, to 
 the cube, or that " over-man" (iibermenscK) of whom 
 Nietszsche dreamed, L. N. Tolstoy at the same time 
 possesses an all-embracing soul, which thirsts for self- 
 perfection. On the one hand, an insatiable thirst for 
 power over people, and on the other, an unconquera-
 
 LIVES AND WORKS 73 
 
 ble ardor for inward purity and the sweetness of meek- 
 ness. 
 
 Prometheus, in the aspect of a stooping river-boatman 
 with his hauling-noose around his neck, or some Caius 
 Marcius Coriolanus, in the position of a servant, would 
 present a less tragical situation. What a theme for a 
 psychological drama ! Yet this tragic state is a charac- 
 teristic peculiarity of the Tolstoy personality, and 
 gleams forth in nearly all his writings. 
 
 The elements of this tragedy lie in his religious zeal, 
 which can never reconcile the man with himself, and 
 keeps his soul constantly in a state of powerful tension, 
 "like fish on dry land," to use the characteristic 
 expression of the Danish thinker, Kierkegaard. 
 
 This aspiration to become from finite infinite, from 
 ashes the Phoenix, from "the bag of meat" God, this 
 aspiration which lies, in potential form, in every writer, 
 is developed in L. N. Tolstoy to the highest degree, 
 and constitutes, as it were, his second nature. Turge- 
 neff, as far back as the '5o's, wrote to Druzhinin con- 
 cerning L. Tolstoy : " When this young wine shall have 
 got through fermenting, there will come forth from it a 
 beverage worthy of the gods." But what Turgeneff did 
 not divine, because he was lacking in religious experience, 
 was that the man who believes can never " get through 
 fermenting," and drop the curtain upon his inner world. 
 Life every day creates some fresh complication, and 
 imposes fresh burdens upon him. L. N. Tolstoy will 
 never free himself from burdens of this sort. He finds 
 it especially painful in Moscow, where his life is not 
 always arranged according to his plans, and he is often 
 compelled to dwell in a sphere that is alien to him. 
 
 One day he met one of his visitors on the street, and 
 got into conversation with him. It appeared that this 
 man lived in bachelor quarters, dined where he pleased, 
 and could, at any time, isolate himself in Moscow as in 
 an uninhabited island. 
 
 Lyeff Nikolaevitch told about this meeting, and added 
 with a smile : 
 
 " And I envied him to a degree which I am ashamed
 
 74 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 
 
 to express. Just think of it: a man can live as he likes 
 without causing suffering to any one. Really, that is 
 bliss!" 
 
 The conversation turned upon the imperative neces- 
 sity for solitude in the case of certain people, and the 
 burdensomeness of isolation for others, who would un- 
 dergo any sort of suffering rather than solitude. Some 
 one cited the instance of a doctor who went mad after 
 two months of solitary confinement. 
 
 "Yes, yes, that may be," said Lyeff Nikolaevitch. 
 " But, on the other hand, solitude may be genuine bliss 
 for people who are able to draw resources from within 
 themselves." 
 
 " Voluntary, yes ; but involuntary, no," said some one. 
 
 "Why? everything depends on the man's relation 
 to certain phenomena," returned Lyeff Nikolaevitch. 
 " They tell a story about a certain gentleman who, for 
 some reason, was kept for a long time in solitary con- 
 finement, and spent his time there in a very remarkable 
 manner. He managed it as follows : he evoked in his 
 memory the recollections which were dear to him, vis- 
 ited, in thought, all his friends, and held with them pro- 
 longed conversations on the most varied topics. Thus 
 his time passed ; he enjoyed an excellent state of mind, 
 and good sleep. But is there nothing except imaginary 
 conversations of which a man can think, when he is left 
 alone? Especially in later years, when the animal life 
 has considerably calmed down, and problems of the 
 spirit have come to the front. Then it often happens 
 that it is a hardship to be with people who are strangers 
 to him. Solitude at that time of life is not a hardship, 
 but a delight, a happiness of which one can only dream. 
 Some people wonder at Socrates who died and did not 
 care to flee from prison. But is it not better to die con- 
 sciously in fulfilment of one's duty, than unexpectedly 
 from some stupid bacteria ? And I have always been 
 surprised that so clever a man as Turgeneff should bear 
 himself as he did toward death. He was awfully afraid 
 of death. Is it even incomprehensible that he was not 
 .afraid to be afraid of death ? And that darkness of
 
 LIVES AND WORKS 75 
 
 reason was really astonishing in him ! He and Prince 
 D. D. Urusoff used to discuss religion, and Turgeneff 
 used to dispute and dispute, and all of a sudden he 
 would no longer be able to control himself, and would 
 cover up his ears, and, pretending that he had forgotten 
 Urusoffs name, would shout, ' I won't listen any longer 
 to that Prince Trubetzkoy.' " 
 
 And L. N. Tolstoy mimicked Turgeneff' s voice until 
 one would have thought the man was there in person. 
 When he is in good humor, and finds himself in the cir- 
 cle of his intimate friends, he sometimes communicates 
 his impressions of persons, and accurately discriminates 
 the characteristic peculiarities of each individual.
 
 76 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 WITH the spring flitting of the Tolstoys from Moscow 
 to Yasnaya Polyana, Lyeff Nikolaevitch's life is fitted 
 into a more convenient frame. In the first place, the 
 country, with its conditions of life, and the absence of 
 constant tragic contrasts, has a favorable action upon 
 Lyeff Nikolaevitch ; in the second place, at Yasnaya 
 Polyana he has more time at his disposal, although the 
 " spectators " do not let him alone even there. 
 
 Yasnaya Polyana descended to L. N. Tolstoy from 
 his mother, by birth a Princess Volkhonsky, whom he 
 has immortalized in War and Peace, under the name of 
 Princess Marya Bolkonsky. It is proper to mention that 
 the name Zj<?^was given to him in honor of her former 
 betrothed, Prince Lyeff Golitzin, who had died. 
 
 L. N. Tolstoy was born at Yasnaya Polyana, August 
 28 (September 9, N.S.), 1828. But the house in which 
 our great writer first saw the light now belongs to other 
 owners and stands in another village. 
 
 When he was in the Caucasus, at the beginning of 
 the 'SQ'S, Lyeff Nikolaevitch found himself in difficult 
 financial circumstances, in consequence of a heavy loss 
 at cards, so he commissioned one of his relatives to sell 
 the house for removal. And the vast manor-house, with 
 its pillars and verandas, was sold for about five thousand 
 rubles. At the present time, no one lives in the house, 
 and it stands in the village of Dolgoe, neglected, and 
 with the windows boarded up. 
 
 I visited the house in February of the present year, 
 with an amateur photographer, P. V. Preobrazhensky. 
 A feeling of oppression seized upon us, when, balancing 
 ourselves on the cross-beams, we entered the half- 
 ruined house, with its projecting balconies, crumbling 
 walls, and heaps of rubbish, where young life had for-
 
 I 
 
 o 
 
 o 
 
 u. 
 o 
 
 u 
 
 CO 
 
 D 
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 I
 
 LIVES AND WORKS 77 
 
 merly beamed and throbbed abundantly. A piercing 
 wind rushed through the boarded-up windows, and 
 raised clouds of dust. In the corner room, where was 
 born the "great writer of the Russian land," lay a dis- 
 ordered mass of broken fragments, and a pile of various 
 odds and ends. 
 
 Of the former decoration, all that remained was 
 bits of the ornaments here and there. But the lower 
 story, where the school-room had been, and where 
 the famous Karl Ivanitch had been used to tickle his 
 pupil's heels, is still sound and fit for habitation. 
 
 The first time I was at Yasnaya Polyana was in the 
 autumn of 1895. 
 
 It was a clear, cool morning when the train of 
 the Moscow-Kursk railway halted at the station of 
 " Kozloffzasyeka," which is three versts from Yasnaya 
 Polyana. The road from the station here runs through 
 a broad cutting in the oak forest, which was already 
 touched with autumnal hues, and stood out picturesquely 
 against the pale turquoise sky. 
 
 I was driven in a cabriolet by a broad-shouldered 
 coachman, with a black beard, shaven on the cheeks. 
 He talked in a dignified way, and expressed his appro- 
 bation of his employers. Lyeff Nikolaevitch particularly 
 pleased him. 
 
 " There can be no such other gentleman in the world 
 as Lyeff Nikolaevitch," said he. " He seems to be not 
 more important, but less important, than every one else. 
 And whoever is there, be it a general or a common man, 
 he makes no distinction whatever. He is the same with 
 every one courteous, sociable. The Countess is a 
 good lady, also, but of another sort ; she 's terribly fond 
 of order." 
 
 We crossed the macadam highway, straight as an 
 arrow, and perceived, on the slope of an elevation, a 
 large park, which concealed from us Yasnaya Polyana. 
 The park, laid out at Yasnaya Polyana during Lyeff 
 Nikolaevitch's period of enthusiasm for rural affairs, is 
 very large. It occupies about thirty desyatins, 1 and 
 
 1 Eighty-one acres.
 
 78 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 
 
 during the harvest season there is an immense amount 
 of apples. 
 
 At the entrance to the Yasnaya Polyana park stand 
 two towers, in medieval style, placed there by L. N. 
 Tolstoy's grandfather on his mother's side, N. S. Vol- 
 khonsky. From these towers the road runs through 
 the park, rising a little as it approaches the house, 
 and forms a level corridor through the aged birches. 
 Through the dense leaves gleamed a pond, and glimpses 
 were visible of a square, smoothly rolled space, with a 
 net for lawn-tennis, and at last shone out in its white- 
 ness the long, two-story house where the greater part of 
 Lyeff Tolstoy's life has been passed. This house was 
 not built all at once, but, as it were, spread out in pro- 
 portion as the family increased. 
 
 The cabriolet drove round the side of the house, 
 which is devoid of windows, and halted before a low 
 porch, toward which an ancient elm tree, called here the 
 poor people s tree, stretched forth its many-branched 
 trunk. Beside the elm stands the bench on which the 
 poor people and the peasants await Lyeff Nikolaevitch. 
 In a small vestibule, with an unpainted floor, stood a 
 broad bookcase, filled with books, chiefly by foreign 
 authors. By the side of the mirror, with its letter-box, 
 shone two bicycles, and a long box with the implements 
 for croquet was to be seen. On the pier-glass lay two 
 bundles of English journals, with a multitude of stamps, 
 and a Japanese journal, with vertical lines. A broad 
 wooden staircase ascended from the vestibule. Here, 
 as in Moscow, everything had an air of simplicity, long 
 use, and the solidity of the ancient gentry. 
 
 The lackey who came out to meet me from behind a 
 partition-wall, with his little daughter, welcomed me 
 cordially, and said that Lyeff Nikolaevitch was up-stairs 
 with guests. 
 
 This was contrary to rules. Generally he sets great 
 value on the morning. I entered a very large hall, with 
 windows on both sides, and hung with time-blackened 
 family portraits. In the center of the room, at a long 
 table, sat Lyeff Nikolaevitch and several guests. It
 
 LIVES AND WORKS 
 
 79 
 
 was about nine o'clock in the morning. On the table 
 stood a boiling samovar, with coffee-cups, cream, bread, 
 and butter. 
 
 Lyeff Nikolaevitch had grown somewhat older during 
 the time since I had last seen him. His gray hair had 
 grown thinner, his beard had become longer and whiter. 
 He was chatting with a student, chewing bread, and 
 moving his chin back and forth. 
 
 After introducing me to his visitors, and talking for a 
 few minutes, Lyeff Nikolaevitch rose, poured himself 
 out a cup of barley coffee, and, excusing himself, went 
 to his own room to work. But he halted near the door, 
 and said to the student : 
 
 " And, later on, you will be surprised that the philo- 
 sophical course can give you nothing. Well, you will 
 learn what a certain Terence wrote, when he was of the 
 same age. But, really now, what do you want of it ? " 
 
 The student said quietly, and as though ashamed of 
 his frivolity, that he had been drawn into the philo- 
 sophical course by a liking for that science. 
 
 Lyeff Nikolaevitch hastily acknowledged the legiti- 
 mate character of this inclination, and, with a friendly 
 nod, went off down-stairs, shuffling his feet. But it 
 sometimes happens that he stands near that door for 
 hours together, with a cup or glass in his hand. So 
 that place is called the Enchanted Spot, because Lyeff 
 Nikolaevitch often enters into conversation with some 
 one on his path, imperceptibly is carried away with the 
 subject of conversation, and stands by the hour near the 
 door.
 
 8o HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 THE Countess, her daughters, relatives who had ar- 
 rived from Kieff, an Englishwoman, a Frenchwoman, 
 a student-tutor, the boys and their comrades, began to 
 assemble in the dining-room. All entered separately, ' 
 drank their coffee or their tea, and went off about their 
 own affairs. Others appeared to take their place, made 
 a litter of bread crumbs, left the tea-pot half filled, and 
 the coffee-pot cold, and departed. 
 
 With the appearance of Countess Sophia Andreevna, 
 order was perceptibly restored. The extinguished sam- 
 ovar began to sing, the cold coffee was heated, the 
 overbrewed tea was replaced with fresh tea. Sophia 
 Andreevna is a capital housewife, attentive, hospitable. 
 One eats and drinks at Yasnaya Polyana as at home. 
 
 All the complicated and troublesome management of 
 the housekeeping and the direction of business is under 
 the charge of Sophia Andreevna. She is indefatigable, 
 and brings her brisk energy, thriftiness, and activity to 
 bear on everything. Not without cause did the coach- 
 man say that the Countess "was terribly fond of order." 
 She has only to go away for a day or two on business 
 from Yasnaya Polyana, and the complicated machine 
 called " the household " begins to creak and jolt. 
 
 The Countess has no helpers. Her three eldest sons 
 live apart, and each is busy with his own affairs. Her 
 daughters have their own interests and duties, which 
 occupy every moment of their time. L. N. Tolstoy's 
 eldest daughter, Tatyana Lvovna, in particular, a girl 
 of exceptional talent, has been working very hard of 
 late. In addition to the hurried copying of her father's 
 articles, she conducts his vast correspondence. 
 
 Lyeff Nikolaevitch Tolstoy could not answer with his 
 own hand all the letters he receives, even if he had four
 
 LIVES AND WORKS 81 
 
 hands. A mass of letters is received from all quarters 
 of the globe, and in all sorts of languages. 
 
 Who all does not address himself to him with greet- 
 ings, with sympathy, with poignant problems, and accu- 
 sations ? Young Russians and Frenchmen, Americans, 
 Dutchmen, Poles, Englishmen, Baroness Bertha Suttner, 
 and a devout Brahmin from India, the dying Turgeneff, 
 and the highwayman Tchurkin, writing like a wounded 
 wild beast. 
 
 The vastness of Lyeff Nikolaevitch's correspondence 
 may be judged from the fact that letters concerning the 
 Famine Year alone occupy a whole cupboard. Letters 
 are kept at the Tolstoys' in foreign fashion with the 
 envelopes in which they are received, and rarely does a 
 letter remain unanswered. 
 
 After coffee, all hastily departed about their own 
 affairs, and the hall was deserted. I went down-stairs 
 to the library, which, with the adjoining room, is as- 
 signed to guests. 
 
 This room is furnished plainly but tastefully ; one 
 feels very comfortable in it, and very much at home. 
 On the wall hang family portraits, also portraits of 
 Dickens, Schopenhauer, Turgeneff, E. Kovalevsky, and 
 others. In the center of the wall, in a niche, stands 
 a small marble bust of Lyeff Nikolaevitch's favorite 
 brother, Count Nikolai Tolstoy, whom I have already 
 mentioned. The lower drawing-room is separated from 
 the library by a yellow wooden partition, with a cross- 
 beam which once suggested to L. N. Tolstoy thoughts 
 of suicide, during the period of his spiritual wander- 
 ings. 
 
 One wall in the library is chiefly occupied by gifts 
 from authors. And what dedications are there ! In 
 prose, and in verse, in Italian, and in Servian, turgid, 
 and modest, and of every sort. 
 
 One room beyond the library is Lyeff Nikolaevitch's 
 study, a small room, with an unpainted floor, a vaulted 
 ceiling, and thick stone walls. Formerly it was a store- 
 room, and on the ceiling, to this day, are heavy, black 
 iron rings, on which, in their day, hams used to hang,
 
 82 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 
 
 and which were afterward employed by Lyeff Nikolae- 
 vitch for gymnastic exercise. 
 
 It is as cool and quiet in the study as in a cellar. 
 The furnishing of the Yasnaya Polyana study differs 
 from that in Moscow in this that here are various im- 
 plements of labor : a scythe, a saw, pincers, files, and 
 others. At first all this appears to be "affectation," 
 but when one lives in the country, one becomes con- 
 vinced that all this is absolutely indispensable ; and one 
 must, imperatively, know how to do everything himself, 
 in order not to fall constantly into a dependent and 
 helpless position.
 
 LIVES AND WORKS 
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 AT three o'clock, Lyeff Nikolaevitch looked into the 
 library, and proposed to me to take a walk before din- 
 ner. His face was weary, with sunken cheeks, but 
 animated. His eyes still shone with the waning fire of 
 excited thought. Because of the cool weather, he wore 
 a threadbare cloth pelerine, and a woolen cap of domes- 
 tic manufacture. But these garments did not become 
 him at all, and one could feel reconciled to them only 
 because of their usefulness. However, after the lapse 
 of a few minutes, it seemed as though he ought to be in 
 precisely that attire. 
 
 Lyeff Nikolaevitch had hardly made his appearance, 
 when several persons quitted the poor people's tree and 
 approached the porch. 
 
 "Good day. What's the matter?" inquired Lyeff 
 Nikolaevitch, quietly, but with a curt, businesslike tone, 
 thrusting his staff under his arm, and unfolding a docu- 
 ment which a peasant had handed to him. 
 
 The man began incoherently to explain some law 
 case. Lyeff Nikolaevitch listened to him for a while, 
 with concentrated attention, and kept repeating : 
 
 " Just so, just so." 
 
 Then, evidently, having formed a clear idea of what 
 the peasant wanted, he thrust the document into his 
 pocket, and promised to do all that was necessary, that 
 is, to write a complaint to the Court of Appeal. 
 
 Another peasant, of small stature, ill-favored, with 
 shifty eyes, held by the hand a pale, scrofulous little boy, 
 and stared intently at him. Evidently, according to the 
 program already prepared, the boy was expected to 
 move Lyeff Nikolaevitch to compassion in some way. 
 But the boy had become confused, and hung back. Lyeff 
 Nikolaevitch asked the peasant what he wanted. The 
 man began to talk quickly, in general terms, about his
 
 S 4 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 
 
 hard life, and then brought the conversation round to 
 the extreme need of wood. Lyeff Nikolaevitch promised 
 to make inquiries about the wood, and to aid his peti- 
 tioner in this matter. Two young men approached, 
 clad in full trousers, sunburnt of countenance and with 
 a southern accent. They were excavators, and were 
 working several versts distant from Yasnaya Polyana. 
 They had heard of " the good gentleman," and had 
 come for some little books. 
 
 " For what little books ? " asked Lyeff Nikolaevitch. 
 
 One of the young fellows, with an embroidered shirt, 
 said, with an easy manner, that they wanted good little 
 books to read, and they especially wished to read God's 
 World. 
 
 Lyeff Nikolaevitch replied that he had no such book. 
 But the young fellow insisted that he must have it, 
 because one of the excavators had spoken of it. Lyeff 
 Nikolaevitch went to his study, and found a collection 
 of all sorts of scientific information, under the general 
 title of The Secrets and Marvels of God's World. He 
 gave them the book, and requested them to bring it back 
 in good condition. The young man turned over the leaves 
 with curiosity, and assured Lyeff Nikolaevitch that he 
 might rest easy. We were about to set out, when from 
 behind the house appeared a masculine figure, in a cap 
 with a red band, and in a threadbare overcoat. The 
 aspect of the stranger did not inspire confidence. He 
 made a theatrical salute from afar, and with a theatrical 
 gesture pulled from his pocket a document. 
 
 " A certificate of my personal character." 
 
 "It is not necessary not necessary," said Lyeff 
 Nikolaevitch, hastily, casting a quick glance at the 
 stranger, and beat a retreat into the porch. 
 
 A minute later he returned, and, endeavoring not to 
 look at the stranger, thrust something into his hand. 
 The man returned thanks, but, evidently, was not satis- 
 fied with what he had received. Then he drew still 
 another paper from his pocket. " Here is a certificate, 
 your Illustrious Highness 
 
 " I have given you what I could, I am not able to do
 
 LIVES AND WORKS 85 
 
 more," said Lyeff Nikolaevitch, with an expression of 
 martyrdom. 
 
 And we set off through the park. But the ugly little 
 peasant and his scrofulous boy intercepted our path. 
 Lyeff Nikolaevitch halted. 
 
 "What do you want? " 
 
 The peasant thrust forward the boy. The boy hesi- 
 tated, became agitated, and, drawling out his words, 
 appealed to Lyeff Nikolaevitch : 
 
 " Gi-i-i-ve the co-o-o-olt " 
 
 I felt uncomfortable, and knew not in which direction 
 to look. 
 
 Lyeff Nikolaevitch shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 "What colt? What nonsense? I have no colt." 
 
 " Yes, you have," declared the ill-favored little peasant, 
 moving briskly forward. 
 
 " Well, I know nothing about it. Go, and God be 
 with you ! " said Lyeff Nikolaevitch, and, taking several 
 strides, he leaped over a ditch. 
 
 We walked at a brisk gait in the fields, first through the 
 rye, and then along the water-meadows, which gleamed 
 cheerfully in the sunshine with their succulent verdure. 
 
 Lyeff Nikolaevitch began to question me about my 
 life in the country. The conversation turned on the 
 rearing of children. L. N. Tolstoy is opposed to the 
 existing educational institutions, and thinks that they 
 take away from the children much more than they give 
 them. He quoted, jestingly, the remark of one of his 
 friends, who is educating his son at home, and always 
 says that, if his son does turn out a fool, at all events, 
 he will not be a choke-full fool such as comes out of the 
 Gymnasium. 
 
 But Lyeff Nikolaevitch himself and his life interested 
 me more than anything else. At what was he work- 
 ing ? How does he live ? What are his relations to the 
 people, and, especially, to those Makaroffs and Moro- 
 zoffs who once constituted the famous literary firm, 
 " Makaroff, Morozoff, Tolstoy ? " And I led the con- 
 versation to that subject. 
 
 Lyeff Nikolaevitch, gliding swiftly over the ground,
 
 86 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 
 
 soft as a carpet, said that he felt very well, except that 
 lately he had fallen ill with his usual complaint in 
 the liver. He was occupied at the time with a very com- 
 plicated piece of work, which entirely engrossed him. 
 He was interested in those three steps through which 
 the spirit of man must infallibly move onward to per- 
 fection. And Lyeff Nikolaevitch began with animation 
 to set forth the fundamental theses of his work : 
 
 The first step is warfare with a false view of the 
 world. This must be the beginning. 
 
 The second step is warfare with delusion, that is to say, 
 with phenomena which conduce to abnormal life ; and in 
 conclusion, 
 
 The third step is warfare against sin. 
 
 From warfare with abnormal phenomena, the con- 
 versation passed naturally to the melancholy side of the 
 common people's life, and I questioned Lyeff Nikolae- 
 vitch about the Yasnaya Polyana peasants, as to what 
 sort of people they were. 
 
 " They are peasants like any other peasants," said he, 
 " not much better, not much worse, than the rest. With 
 some of them I long ago established kindly, affection- 
 ate relations, and they are maintained to this day, others 
 and they are in the majority look upon me as a sort 
 of horn of plenty, and that is all. And can one expect 
 from them any other relations ? Their life and views 
 have been formed through a course of ages under the 
 influence of a multitude of irresistible conditions. And 
 can one change all that ? " 
 
 We came out upon the road, and met an old woman 
 who was on her way to Yasnaya Polyana. On catching 
 sight of Lyeff Nikolaevitch she came to a standstill. 
 He entered into conversation with her about her mode 
 of life, gave her alms, and we again turned out of the 
 road into the fields. Lyeff Nikolaevitch interrupted the 
 conversation only for a moment, and, glancing round, he 
 admired the golden attire of the autumn. 
 
 Suddenly, through the transparent air, from the direc- 
 tion of the house, resounded the prolonged and persistent 
 sound of a bell.
 
 LIVES AND WORKS 87 
 
 "They are summoning us to dinner," said Lyeff 
 Nikolaevitch, and quickened his pace, without, however, 
 breaking off the conversation. 
 
 We went straight ahead, leaping across gullies and 
 puddles, which had formed after the rain. It was the 
 first time I had made such a forced march with Lyeff 
 Nikolaevitch, and I felt involuntary surprise at the elastic 
 lightness with which he surmounted all obstacles. He 
 seemed not to walk, but to glide over the ground, evi- 
 dently without making any particular effort. I mentally 
 compared him with writers of my acquaintance, who 
 were much younger than he, and they appeared to me 
 like ruins in comparison with him, so far as their physical 
 and mental endurance were concerned : how much fire 
 and force there is in him yet ! 
 
 And it is not astonishing, for after C. Lombroso had 
 been at Yasnaya Polyana, he said that L. Tolstoy was 
 fit to be his son, in the matter of freshness, and then 
 L. N. Tolstoy called Lombroso, in jest, " an amiable old 
 man," although the latter is much younger than Lyeff 
 Nikolaevitch. One episode of C. Lombroso's sojourn at 
 Yasnaya Polyana is not devoid of interest. They went 
 to take a bath. Lyeff Nikolaevitch asked C. Lombroso 
 whether he knew how to swim. The latter declared that 
 he did, watched Lyeff Nikolaevitch, and faithfully imi- 
 tated everything that the latter did. L. N. Tolstoy 
 crawled out on the outer board, sprang into the water, 
 and swam off. C. Lombroso followed him. 
 
 " But I turned round," says Lyeff Nikolaevitch, " and 
 saw that my old man was floundering about in the 
 water, but, somehow, was making no progress." 
 
 L. N. helped him to get out. Lombroso was panting, 
 but in ecstasies over his bath. In order to warm him- 
 self up after his bath, Lyeff Nikolaevitch raised himself 
 several times by his muscles. Lombroso, also, clung to 
 the cross-beam, but could not raise himself. His visit 
 gave L. N. Tolstoy great pleasure. 
 
 " I had imagined him to be different a scientific 
 fanatic," said L. N. afterward. " He is nothing of the 
 sort."
 
 88 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 WHEN we reached the house, the large bell, suspended 
 from a dead limb of the poor people 's tree, had rung in- 
 sistently for the second time. It was three o'clock. 1 
 We arrived exactly in time. Immediately after us ap- 
 peared the servant with the soup-tureen in his hands. 
 
 The long table quickly filled up with Lyeff Nikolae- 
 vitch's numerous family, and Countess Sophia Andreevna 
 greeted our prompt arrival with a glance of approbation, 
 
 She occupied the so-called housewife's place ; that is, 
 at the end of the table, so that she could see every- 
 thing and everybody. Next her, on her right, sat Lyeff 
 Nikolaevitch, and beside him his eldest daughter, Tatyana 
 Lvovna. This order is preserved at dinner always and 
 everywhere. 
 
 Lyeff Nikolaevitch and his two oldest daughters eat 
 no meat, and separate dishes are served for them. Lyeff 
 Nikolaevitch often plays the part of host in the little 
 vegetarian nook. He ladles out the thin oatmeal gruel 
 into plates, and cordially helps vegetarian guests during 
 the dinner, now to one dish, now to another. 
 
 He is a vegetarian from conviction, and for many years 
 has eaten neither meat nor fish, but attributes great im- 
 portance to vegetable diet, both from a physiological and 
 from an esthetic point of view. And, of course, he 
 might serve as an eloquent example of the superiority of 
 vegetable diet, if it were only possible to prove that the 
 fine strength which he enjoys depends principally on his 
 vegetable diet. In any case this is a serious question. 
 And a man who lives exclusively on a vegetable diet, 
 and, at the same time, is able, at the age of seventy, to 
 fulfil, in thorough fashion, the field labor of the peas- 
 
 1 An error somewhere, evidently, about the hour of the walk and of din- 
 ner. The dinner hour at Yasnaya Polyana is nearer five o'clock. TR.
 
 LIVES AND WORKS 89, 
 
 ants, to ride scores of versts on his bicycle, to play for 
 hours at lawn-tennis, or to run races with the little boys, 
 such a man has a good deal of right to talk about the 
 superiority of a vegetable diet. 
 
 Countess Sophia Andreevna, on the contrary, opposes 
 a vegetable diet, and only tolerates it in the house as, in 
 a way, her cross. But justice must be accorded to her 
 impartiality : the meat viands and the vegetarian viands 
 at Yasnaya Polyana are very savory, nutritious, and 
 varied. 
 
 Lyeff Nikolaevitch, in many respects, reminds one of 
 a Russian peasant, but he does not eat like a Russian 
 peasant, with their deliberation and pauses, but 
 quickly and hastily, as though in a hurry to get rid, as 
 soon as possible, of a disagreeable duty. 
 
 After the first course, with which he had dulled the 
 edge of his hunger, Lyeff Nikolaevitch began to address 
 remarks first to one, then to another, of those present, 
 imparting to the most trivial conversation that peculiar, 
 rich interest which he understands how to infuse into 
 everything. His humorous comments often evoked peals 
 of laughter, which were especially loud at the other end 
 of the table, where the youngest of the young people 
 are always grouped. 
 
 Occasionally, when relating something, Lyeff Niko- 
 laevitch, on hearing laughter among the young people, 
 interrupted his narration, and turned his attention in 
 that direction. But, without fail, in the course of the 
 dinner, he scrutinized all with his keen glance, and 
 exchanged at least a few words with every individual. 
 
 At the Tolstoys' table we drank home-brewed grain, 
 kvas, cold milk, and soda-water. 
 
 But immediately after dinner Lyeff Nikolaevitch sug- 
 gested a stroll in the forest, and began to urge the 
 ladies to haste. He is impatient in such circumstances, 
 and does not like long preparations. But some one 
 proposed a game of lawn-tennis while all were assem- 
 bling. Lyeff Nikolaevitch willingly assented. 
 
 And, a moment later, male and female figures were 
 flitting about over the hard-rolled square space in front
 
 ^0 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 
 
 of the house, flourishing rackets, and shouting, with a 
 tinge of anger, " Play ! " " Out ! " and so forth. 
 
 Lawn-tennis is, as we all know, one of the most fas- 
 cinating of games, requiring keenness of sight, skill, 
 and the exercise of every muscle. And it is easily com- 
 prehensible that Lyeff Nikolaevitch is passionately fond 
 of this game ; it affords considerable work for his mus- 
 cles. He plays ardently and with fire, but without losing 
 his temper. This constant work upon himself is to be 
 felt even in a game of lawn-tennis. 
 
 Once he even yielded his racket to another player, at 
 the most interesting moment of the game. However, 
 this was an exceptional case.
 
 LIVES AND WORKS 91 
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 As he was raising himself by his muscles one day, 
 during the morning bath, he broke down, somehow, and 
 fell between the boards of the bath-house, causing him- 
 self considerable injuries to the breast and back. It all 
 took place so quickly that neither the doctor, who was 
 present, nor I succeeded in recovering from our fright 
 and going to the assistance of Lyeff Nikolaevitch. He 
 crawled out, unaided, from the crevice, and looked 
 around in amazement, unable to understand how it had 
 all happened. The right side of his breast and back 
 were covered with dark red blotches. The doctor, shak- 
 ing his head reproachfully, began to massage the in- 
 jured parts, and to inquire concerning the degree of 
 pain. 
 
 L. N. Tolstoy stood patiently, his body shivering with 
 the cold water, and kept repeating, with a smile : 
 
 " It is nothing, really it hurts only a little." 
 
 " And here ? " 
 
 "Well, here it does seem to be painful. And how 
 could it have happened ? " he asked in surprise, and as 
 though excusing himself to the doctor and to me for the 
 unpleasant scene. 
 
 But, in the opinion of the doctor, Lyeff Nikolaevitch 
 ought to have experienced burning pains. He felt 
 chilled in the air, and began to dress himself, advising 
 us to go on ahead, because he intended to walk fast in 
 order to get warm. Of course, we did not follow his 
 advice. 
 
 When he had dressed himself, and thrown his towel 
 round his neck, he really did set off at rapid pace up 
 the hill, without heeding the doctor's warning that at 
 such a time all quick movements should be avoided. 
 We could hardly keep up with him. It was particu-
 
 9 2 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 
 
 larly difficult for the doctor, who was rather fat and 
 suffered from asthma. On observing this, Lyeff Niko- 
 laevitch slackened his pace, and began to talk about a 
 letter which he had received, the day before, from a 
 Polish Count, who was trying to entice him with Polish 
 patriotism. After quoting the contents of the letter, 
 Lyeff Nikolaevitch said : 
 
 " How often the checkers get mixed up in political 
 matters ! Great caution is required, or one will find 
 himself in a false position. It often happens that peo- 
 ple who have no inward bond between them march 
 hand in hand under one flag under the flag of a com- 
 mon hatred. What a sorry bond is that ! And what 
 lack of understanding that love alone can cement men, 
 and give them true strength." 
 
 And Lyeff Nikolaevitch went on talking about love, 
 as the indispensable element in every alliance. When 
 we entered the dining-room he quickly ate his morning 
 oatmeal, hastily looked over the English newspaper 
 the Daily Chronicle poured himself out half a cup of 
 coffee with almond milk, on his way, and excusing him- 
 self, hastily went off to his own rooms. 
 
 " He certainly must be suffering torments now," said 
 the doctor, nodding approvingly in the direction of Lyeff 
 Nikolaevitch. 
 
 That day, Lyeff Nikolaevitch emerged only to dinner, 
 and all the time he was so animated and merry that no 
 one would have said that his back and a part of his 
 breast were one mass of bruises. After dinner, the doc- 
 tor began to insist that he should again be allowed to 
 massage the injured places. 
 
 " Well, if you like!" said Lyeff Nikolaevitch, evidently 
 not wishing to pain the doctor by a refusal, and he led 
 him off to his study. 
 
 When the doctor laid bare the bruised parts, he shook 
 his head. A part of the breast and back had assumed 
 a purplish brown hue, with an iridescent play of colors. 
 The doctor greased his hand with vaseline, and began 
 to pass it delicately over the body, as though pressing 
 out the pain from the wounded portions of the skin.
 
 LIVES AND WORKS 93 
 
 Lyeff Nikolaevitch lay motionless, never ceasing to talk, 
 and highly approving the doctor's work. 
 
 " How well you do that ! " 
 
 But the doctor wore a stern aspect, and kept repeat- 
 ing, persistently, in rhythm with the movement of his 
 hand : 
 
 " The principal thing now is to avoid violent mo-o-ove- 
 ment ; the principal thing is to give the irritated ti-i-is- 
 sues rest." 
 
 Lyeff Nikolaevitch made no reply. 
 
 But when, half an hour later, the doctor arrived at 
 the lawn-tennis ground, he saw, among the players, 
 Lyeff Nikolaevitch, who was flourishing his racket with 
 animation. The doctor sat down heavily on a bench, 
 and waved his hand in despair. Lyeff Nikolaevitch 
 caught his glance of displeasure, and hastily handed 
 over his racket. 
 
 " I won't do it ; I won't do it any more," he said, in 
 a guilty tone, and went up to the doctor.
 
 94 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 COUNTESS SOPHIA ANDREEVNA had finished all her 
 domestic arrangements, and made her appearance, with 
 the other ladies, near the lawn-tennis ground. 
 
 Lyeff Nikolaevitch began to urge the players to 
 haste, and, a few minutes later, a company of twelve 
 persons set out straight across the park. Lyeff Niko- 
 laevitch conducted the expedition. We went up hill 
 and down, made our way through the thicket, crossed 
 the water on a transverse plank. Lyeff Nikolaevitch 
 was merry, and animated, and talkative ; he helped the 
 ladies at difficult points, and even invented for one lady 
 something in the nature of an elevator: he pressed 
 the head of his staff against the back of her belt, and 
 thereby considerably lightened the ascent for her. 
 
 When, at last, we emerged into an open spot, before 
 us lay outspread a rather picturesque view, with yellow- 
 ing groups of trees, effectively lighted up by the rays 
 of the setting sun. Here and there, stately, dark green 
 fir trees stood out, sharply outlined against the golden 
 background of the autumn foliage. We turned aside 
 to the nursery of forest trees, inspected them, and took 
 a path for the macadamized highway. Lyeff Niko- 
 laevitch took an interest in everything, entered into 
 conversation with every one, and exchanged friendly 
 greetings with every one whom we met, without wait- 
 ing for them to bow to him. In all, we traversed about 
 seven versts. Toward the end of the walk, all felt 
 somewhat weary and thirsty. 
 
 The samovar was already boiling in the dining-room, 
 and the cups gleamed cheerfully. Lyeff Nikolaevitch 
 took a new number of the Revue de Paris, which had 
 just arrived, and went to his study. It is a genuine
 
 COUNT TOLSTOY AT REST 
 FROM A PAINTING BY REPIN
 
 LIVES AND WORKS 
 
 95 
 
 luxury for him to half recline, after a good walk, with 
 a new book in his hands. 
 
 Evening began to draw on. Candles were brought 
 to the tea-table. On the other, the round table, which 
 stood in the corner, a lamp with a shade was placed. 
 Sophia Andreevna laid out to dry the photographs 
 which she had taken during the day, and then took up 
 her sewing, and seated herself at the round table, bend- 
 ing low over her work. She always has some work on 
 hand, and is constantly making or making over some- 
 thing for Lyeff Nikolaevitch, or for her youngest daugh- 
 ter, or for some of the house-servants. The elder 
 daughters departed to their own rooms. The youngest, 
 eleven-year-old Sasha, sat by the table, and played chess 
 with a Gymnasium lad who had arrived. Two little 
 boys in every-day blouses played battledore and shuttle- 
 cock, urging each other on with expressions of the most 
 insulting description for the pride of the player, of this 
 sort : " You, sir, ought to be playing with dolls still, 
 instead of at battledore and shuttlecock." "You, senor, 
 ought to learn first, how to hold your battledore, and 
 then you might make up your mind to play with people 
 who " and so forth. 
 
 The large hall, with its dark squares of ancient 
 portraits, was submerged in semi-obscurity. Several 
 objects melted into their outlines. In the corners the 
 plaster busts of Lyeff Nikolaevitch shone white, one 
 the work of the painter Gay, the other by I. Rye 1 pin. 
 Near the wall was the long, dark silhouette of the 
 grand piano, with the uncertain outlines of the music 
 piled upon it, and of the balalaika 1 and the mandolin. 
 On the tables everywhere were books, journals, illustra- 
 tions. 
 
 Suddenly brisk, shuffling steps became audible, and, 
 creaking up the stairs, Lyeff Nikolaevitch hastily en- 
 tered the room with the French magazine in his hand. 
 His face was excited. 
 
 " What horrors are being perpetrated in Turkey ! 
 Heavens, and when will all this end? Tanya, Masha, 
 
 1 A three -stringed musical instrument. TR.
 
 96 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 
 
 come here. Hearken to what is going on in Armenia," 
 said Lyeff Nikolaevitch, so loudly that he could be heard 
 two rooms off. 
 
 The games ceased. Lyeff Nikolaevitch 's two eldest 
 daughters made their appearance in the hall. All seated 
 themselves around the table with the lamp, and Lyeff 
 Nikolaevitch began to read about the Sassoon horrors, 
 interrupting his reading with various remarks, in order 
 to control the emotion which overpowered him. Lyeff 
 Nikolaevitch reads superbly. But dramatic scenes are 
 beyond his powers. As he possesses remarkably acute 
 artistic feeling, he seems to divine the approaching 
 horror of the drama a whole verst off, and his voice, in 
 spite of himself, becomes oppressed. 
 
 The description of the Sassoon brutalities produced a 
 profound impression on all. As he read several scenes, 
 Lyeff Nikolaevitch threw himself back from the book, 
 and said : 
 
 " How terrible this is ! " 
 
 For some time the conversation hovered about the 
 massacre at Sassoon. The servant brought the mail, 
 which, however, produces no sensation here, because it 
 is received from three stations, and always in abundance. 
 A whole bundle of letters, notifications, and telegrams 
 were addressed to Lyeff Nikolaevitch. He opens them, 
 lays some on one side, leaves others, and reads some 
 aloud, when, if the letter is written in any foreign lan- 
 guage, in the presence of guests it is immediately read 
 in Russian, with only a few pauses. 
 
 A German journalist writes to Lyeff Nikolaevitch a 
 fervent letter about one of his articles. K., an English- 
 man, imparts from London a whole mass of political 
 and literary news. The conversation turns upon Eng- 
 lish literature. 
 
 At ten o'clock the servants begin to set the table 
 for supper. Although Lyeff Nikolaevitch has been 
 speaking with animation, and has been courteous to all, 
 something seems to have congealed in his face, and not 
 a single note of cheerful tone now breaks forth from his 
 voice.
 
 LIVES AND WORKS 97 
 
 He played a game of chess, but this did not distract 
 his mind. During supper, loud voices became audible 
 down-stairs, and new visitors made their appearance, 
 good friends of the Tolstoys who had come from Mos- 
 cow. They brought with them a whole budget of the 
 most vitally interesting news. Lyeff Nikolaevitch was 
 very glad to see his guests, and chatted with them in a 
 friendly manner, but his face still wore an expression of 
 dissimulation and sadness, as it were. The description 
 of human suffering in Armenia had evidently left a 
 painful sediment in his soul. 
 
 The next morning, various petitioners, male and 
 female, began to make their appearance. From Tula 
 came some officer or other, with a pale, nervous face, 
 and after him, a lady in mourning garments. Lyeff 
 Nikolaevitch received them, but the interviews did not 
 last long, not more than a few minutes. Again, near 
 the poor people 's tree, peasants, passers-by, old men, and 
 old women, with various petitions, were awaiting Lyeff 
 Nikolaevitch. Again he did what he could for each 
 one. Again the post brought a big pile of letters, news- 
 papers, pamphlets, notifications, telegrams, with different 
 requests, questions, and expectations. 
 
 After dinner, Lyeff Nikolaevitch rode into Tula on 
 his bicycle, to see a friend. 
 
 Twilight began to descend. Several of us visitors 
 were chatting together in the lower drawing-room which 
 adjoins the library. Hasty steps became audible, and 
 Lyeff Nikolaevitch entered. He bent forward, looked 
 for an empty seat, and sat down with us. There was a 
 peculiar warmth in his voice. This was not the famous 
 Lyeff Tolstoy, the great writer and passionate preacher, 
 but rather a gentle, modest Publican, conscious of his 
 imperfections, and beholding before him, as yet, only 
 the first steps of that lofty staircase which must be 
 mounted. 
 
 In answer to his question, what were we talking about, 
 one of us said that we had been discussing a family well 
 known to all of us, in which discord was smoldering. 
 Two of those present blamed the wife, and exculpated
 
 98 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 
 
 the husband. Lyeff Nikolaevitch listened attentively, 
 and said : 
 
 " But can we make all our demands on a woman, and 
 judge her harshly, when we have ourselves trained her 
 to all sorts of falsehood ? Do we not prize in her, above 
 all else, precisely that which relates to her sex, and do 
 we not take her to wife because of that ? And, all of a 
 sudden, we demand that she shall be our friend. That 
 is false, and a lie. I will seek a friend for myself among 
 men. And no woman can take the place of my friend. 
 Then why do we lie to our wives, and assure them that 
 we regard them as our true friends ? Surely, that is 
 untrue." 
 
 " But what are we to do ? How is peace to be estab- 
 lished in a family ? " asked one of us. 
 
 "The husband must take upon himself the whole 
 burden of the false situation which he has created, and 
 be indulgent to his wife," said Lyeff Nikolaevitch, with 
 ardent conviction. " Never, under any circumstances, 
 for any consideration whatever, should he deprive his 
 wife of his support, because marriage is an elevation 
 for the majority of such sinful men as we. When we 
 choose for our wife a certain woman, we thereby, as it 
 were, announce to all the other women in the world 
 they are our sisters. Therein lies the profound mean- 
 ing of marriage. But if any one can remain virgin, 
 without distorting his nature, that must be a lofty 
 happiness ! " 
 
 And Lyeff Nikolaevitch told us that he knew one 
 married pair, who had lived together many years, ob- 
 serving between them the relations of brother and sister. 
 The daily equality of their relations always charmed 
 Lyeff Nikolaevitch to such a degree, that one day he 
 wrote them a friendly letter, in which he congratulated 
 the wife with especial warmth upon the purity of these 
 relations. To this letter he received an unexpected 
 reply, which, nevertheless, touched him profoundly. 
 She wrote him that, in spite of all her delight over his 
 letter, she must, nevertheless, decline all his praises, 
 because the most cherished desire of her heart was to
 
 LIVES AND WORKS 9? 
 
 be, not the friend, but the wife of her husband, and to 
 have children by him, but that her husband wished 
 to maintain chaste relations with her, therefore be it 
 according to his will. 
 
 At these words, Lyeff Nikolaevitch's voice broke, and 
 he wept. 
 
 " Which of us sinners," said he, conquering his emo- 
 tion, "would dare to reproach them if, after all, they 
 should come together as husband and wife ? But that 
 frank confession from the mouth of a modest woman, 
 and her tranquil obedience to her husband's will how 
 beautiful it all is ! " 
 
 And Lyeff Nikolaevitch continued for a long time 
 still to discuss the moral side of marriage. 
 
 His ardent faith in the triumph of the highest princi- 
 ples in man, his profound belief in the vivifying power 
 of moral ideals, an inspiration wherein is concealed also 
 the deepest significance of our life, and the most healing 
 remedy for all ills, in short, that peculiar, entrancing 
 Tolstoy tone, which, like a tightly stretched chord, re- 
 sounds in some of his writings, all this here, in the 
 twilight, in the intimate, low-voiced conversation, when , 
 every word acquires its special language, had a particu- 
 larly attractive power. 
 
 When we were called to tea, and went up-stairs, as we 
 mounted the stairs we experienced a sensation as though 
 our wings had begun to grow. And our earthly burdens 
 did not seem to us very heavy. 
 
 And that whole memorable evening afterward as- 
 sumed a sort of peculiarly elegiac character. Several 
 of us took our departure at twelve o'clock at night, 
 and we felt sad at leaving that roof, beneath which we 
 had lived through so many never-to-be-forgotten im- 
 pressions. 
 
 After tea a general conversation arose about music, 
 poetry, and verses. One of Tolstoy's feminine relatives 
 read, in a peculiar, drawling elocution, several new- 
 fashioned poems in the symbolical style, "with lilac 
 sounds," and " gnawing perfumes." Lyeff Nikolaevitch 
 stood by the piano, with his hand thrust into the belt of
 
 ioo COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 
 
 his blouse, and listened, with a smile, to the reading. 
 When it was over, he laughed, and said : 
 
 " Well, if it is a question of taking into your mouth 
 all the sonorous words, and then letting them out again, 
 you had better read Fet. In him there is both poetry 
 and taste." 
 
 And, raising his head a little, as though trying to 
 recall something half-forgotten, Lyeff Nikolaevitch re- 
 cited, with much expression, one of Fet's poems, in 
 which the poet compares the starry sky to an overturned 
 urn. 
 
 We began to talk about Fet. 
 
 Countess Sophia Andreevna tried to recall one of his 
 poems dedicated to her, and set to music, but was unable 
 to do so. 
 
 Lyeff Nikolaevitch seated himself at the piano, and 
 with a free, light touch, played that romance. Tatyana 
 Lvovna, the eldest daughter of the Tolstoys, approached 
 the piano in a flowered peasant woman's jacket, and 
 asked her father if he would not accompany her. He 
 gladly consented. She took up her mandolin, leaned 
 against the piano, and they began to play harmoniously 
 and melodiously, presenting an enviable group for an 
 artist. 
 
 After the music, Lyeff Nikolaevitch approached his 
 guests, and chatted in a friendly manner with each one 
 of those who were about to depart. At eleven o'clock, 
 the katki that is, a long jaunting-car which will hold 
 ten persons drove up to the door. 
 
 The night was clear and cool. The whole Tolstoy 
 family came out on the porch to wish the parting guests 
 God-speed. 
 
 When the katki drove away from the house, all, as 
 though at a given signal, turned round, and gazed long 
 through the dense grove at the lighted windows of the 
 long house in which had flowed past the greater part of 
 the extremely active life of one of the most remarkable 
 men in the history of mankind.
 
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