PREFACE TO N. ORLOV’S ALBUM OF “RUSSIAN PEASANTS”

Tolstoy willingly called attention to pictures, as well as to stories, of which he approved; and he was particularly ready to do so if the artists’ subject was one that might interest the peasants, for whom he considered that artists have done too little.

Work such as Orlóv’s (himself of peasant origin) which, by the disapproval it showed of the Government’s treatment of the peasants, involved risk to the artist, was specially calculated to attract his sympathy.

“Be not afraid of them which kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul: but rather fear him which is able to destroy both soul and body.” (Matt. X. 28.)

The publication of Orlóv’s pictures in album form is an excellent thing. Orlóv is my favourite artist because the subject of his pictures is my favourite subject--the Russian people: the real Russian peasant-people, not that people which vanquished Napoleon and conquered and subdued other nations, not that people which unfortunately has so quickly learnt to make machines, railways, and revolutions as well as Parliaments with all conceivable sub-divisions of parties and tendencies, but that meek, hard-working, Christian, gentle, much-enduring people which has reared and bears on its shoulders all those who now torture and diligently corrupt it.

And what Orlóv and I love in these people is one and the same thing: namely, the meek, patient peasant-soul, enlightened by true Christianity, which promises so much to those who can understand it.

In all Orlóv’s pictures I see that soul, which like the soul of a child retains all possibilities and above all the possibility (while avoiding the depravity of western civilization) of following the Christian path which alone can lead Christendom out of that enchanted circle of sufferings in which, with torment to themselves, men now incessantly revolve.

Here in a smoky hut on a bed of straw lies a dying woman. A burning taper has, according to custom, been placed in her hands which are already growing cold. Near her, in solemn submissive calm, stands her husband; and by his side, in a coarse smock (her only garment), stands their eldest daughter, a thin little girl, crying. Beside a rude cradle, hanging from the ceiling, the grandmother soothes a crying infant. Neighbours stand talking near the door.

This picture evokes in me a wonderful and elevating feeling of tender pity and also, strange as it may seem to say so, a feeling of envy of that holy poverty and of the attitude towards it here revealed.

The same elevating feeling of consciousness of the vast spiritual strength of the people to whom not by my life but by my race I have the good fortune to belong, is produced in me by two other pictures of similar character, which always move me profoundly--_The Emigrants_ and _The Soldier’s Return_.

Apart from the fact that the departure of the emigrants, who are saying good-bye to those they are leaving behind, is important in its subject-matter (showing us as it does in vivid images what, in spite of the difficulties placed in their way by the Government and the landowners, the Russian people are accomplishing: populating and cultivating enormous tracts of country), this picture is rendered particularly touching not merely by the wonderful old man in the foreground, but by all the figures, full of movement and life, excited by the thoughts of departure or doubtful at being left behind.

_The Soldier’s Return_ is a picture I am particularly fond of. Having pined for years far from home in hard army service uncongenial to his soul, Pahóm or Sídor, a dutiful son, a loving husband and a good worker, has at last struggled back to liberty and home. And what does he find there? He has already heard the news before he reached his hut. During his absence his Matrëna has had a baby.

This is their first meeting: the wife kneels before her husband, and the child--the evidence of her fault--is also there. The mother-in-law is egging on her son (woman’s way) and telling how she had said, “Mind, Matrëna, your husband will return....” But the old father, still filled with that Christian spirit of forgiveness and love by which the best representatives of the Russian people have lived and still live, interrupts the old woman’s shrill speech and reminds them of that which settles all accounts and wipes out all offences and all anger: he reminds them of God--and all reckonings are at an end, all tangles straightened out.

However painful it may be to the son, however hurt he may feel, however he may have wished to avenge his shame on his wife, he is his father’s son and the same divine spirit lives in him: the spirit of mercy, forgiveness and love; and this spirit--so alien to the uniform he wears--awakes within him, and he waves his hand and experiences the touching joy of forgiveness. “God will forgive you! Rise, Matrëna, that will do!”

The other six pictures are equally important and beautiful. I have separated these six from the three first only because, besides the traits common to them all, in these six are vividly depicted the temptations and depraving influences against which the Christian soul of the Russian people has to contend and does contend, and by which it has not been subdued.

These pictures are peculiarly attractive in that they depict the struggle without deciding whose the victory will be. Will the whole people follow the path of spiritual and mental depravity along which the so-called educated classes, wishing to make it like themselves, invite it, or will it hold to the Christian principles by which it has lived, and, in a vast majority of cases, still lives?

_The Tax Collector in a Peasant’s Hut_ _By N. Orlóv_]

(_See illustration facing this page._) A picture of this kind is the one in which a village Elder--who has come to collect taxes from a poor man just returned from wage-work carried on far from home--is standing over the man awaiting an answer. Only the old father gives that answer, regardless of all consideration of the needs of the Government, speaking of God, and the sin of exploiting a worker barely able to support his family. Very pathetic in this picture, besides the master of the house, are the mistress who stands by the table on which she has just spread a meal, from which everyone has been torn away, and the child who gazes perplexed and full of sympathy at his excited grandfather.

Of similar kind are the remaining pictures of the series, which depict a struggle between good and evil in which men of the people, partly or completely depraved, side with evil.

Such is the picture _Arrears of Taxes_, depicting the sale of a poor widow’s cow--the support of her children. A rich peasant money-lender is buying, and the District Elder is selling, the cow, while the Village Elder notes down the transaction.

Similar pictures are the one, full of matter, in which a poor widow who lives by the illicit sale of vodka (thereby diminishing the State revenue) is caught in the act; and _No. 7_ (_see next page_), which depicts the consecration of one of the vodka-shops which are now (1908) a Government monopoly. This picture is specially remarkable for its technique, for the delicacy and exactitude with which the ideas are expressed, and for the accuracy of its types.

Yet another such picture is the one with the revolting theme, _Corporal Punishment_.

Besides a true portrayal of the still unperverted Russians, which is the chief subject of the whole series, in all these last six pictures, types are shown of that already depraved part of the nation which wishes, for its own profit, to pervert its still unperverted brothers.

The Village Elder who is collecting taxes from the man whose payments are in arrear has not yet broken all links uniting him to his fellows, and evidently suffers for his fellow-man as well as from his own participation in the cause of that suffering.

But the over-fed District Elder in the picture in which the cow is being taken, no longer feels any remorse at fulfilling his cruel duty, and the usurer buying the cow has no consideration for anything but his own profit. In the picture of the illicit vodka-seller, the policeman and the District Elder and the clerk are performing their task unabashed, and they even admire the cleverness of the man in disguise who has trapped the vodka-seller. Only the old man, a representative of the soul of the Russian people, disturbs the general complacency by his bold words.

In the picture of _The Monopoly_, besides the fat publican grieved at the loss of his business, the peasant crossing himself before the icon with evident hypocrisy is very striking, and so is the tattered fellow who has pushed inopportunely in at the door of the institution which has brought him to his present condition, and has so successfully corrupted--and continues for the State’s profit to corrupt--a large part of the population.

Again in the picture of _Corporal Punishment_, all those present, except the old man who is praying for the sins of men, and the little boy aghast at man’s cruelty, have reached the point at which they can regard their shameful deeds as necessary duties.

_The Consecration of a State Vodka Shop_ _By N. Orlóv_]

The last picture, expressing all that is said in the final six of the series, is particularly powerful and dreadful in that it shows in the simplest and most comprehensible way what lies at the bottom of the demoralization to which the people are subjected, and the chief danger that faces them.

“Go, go! God will help you!” says the girl, refusing to give to the beggar. “You see, his Reverence is here!”

Yes, it is a terrible picture!

The strength of a nation lies in the degree of truth in that religious understanding of the laws of life which guides its actions. I say the degree of truth, for a complete understanding of God is never possible to man. Man can but draw ever nearer and nearer to the one and the other. And the greatest amount of true religious understanding of life in our days has been and still is to be found among the illiterate, wise and holy Russian peasant-population. And in all kinds of ways: by Law Courts, taxation, conscription, and alcoholic poisoning for revenue’s sake, they are surrounded by terrible temptations, and the most awful of these is the religious fraud which claims greater importance for the Church and its ministers than for mercy and brotherly love.

All this is presented in Orlóv’s pictures, and so I think that I am not wrong in loving them.

These pictures show us the danger now menacing the spiritual life of the Russian people. And to realize a danger that was not noticed before is a step towards averting it.

_1908._

APPENDIX

DARLING

_By Antón Chékhov_

Olenka, the daughter of a retired civil servant, Plemyánnikov, sat musing in her back porch. It was hot, the flies were pertinaciously teasing, and it was pleasant to reflect that it would soon be evening. Dark rain-clouds were coming up from the east and bringing with them an occasional whiff of moisture.

In the middle of the courtyard Kúkin, who lived in a small house in the same courtyard and was manager and proprietor of the Tivoli Gardens, stood looking at the sky.

“Again!” he exclaimed despairingly. “It’s going to rain again! Rain every day, every day, as though to spite me. One might as well hang oneself! It’s ruination! Fearful losses every day!”

He raised and clasped his hands in despair, and turning to Olenka continued:

“There, Olenka Semënovna, that’s the life we lead. It’s enough to make one cry. One works, tries hard, wears oneself out, gets no sleep at night, and racks one’s brains what to do for the best--and what’s the result? On the one hand there’s the ignorant boorish public! I give them the very best operetta, a fairy-like masque, splendid comic singers, but is that what they want? Do you suppose they understand anything of all that? What they want is what is given in a booth at a fair! Trash, is what they demand! On the other hand, look at the weather! Rain almost every evening. As it started on the 10th May, so it went on the whole of May and June. It’s simply awful! The public don’t come, but I have to pay the rent and the artistes!”

Next evening the clouds again began to gather, and Kúkin said with an hysterical laugh:

“Well, what of it? Rain away! Let it flood the whole garden with me in it! Let me have no luck in this world or the next! Let the artistes take proceedings against me! What is a trial? Even if I go as a convict to Siberia! Or to the scaffold! Ha, ha, ha!”

The next day it was the same again.

Olenka listened to Kúkin silently and seriously, and sometimes tears came into her eyes. In the end Kúkin’s misfortunes touched her and she came to love him. He was short and lean, with a sallow complexion, twists of hair were curled on his temples, he spoke in a thin tenor voice, and when he spoke his mouth twisted, and his face always expressed despair, but still he aroused in her a real and profound affection. She always loved someone and could not exist without it. Formerly she had loved her papa, who now sat in an armchair in a dark room, ill, and breathing with difficulty; she loved her aunt, who sometimes--once in two years--came from Byansk; and before that, when she was at the secondary school, she had loved her French master. She was a quiet, soft-hearted, compassionate young woman, with a mild tender look in her eyes and very good health. At the sight of her plump rosy cheeks, her soft white neck with a dark little mole on it, and the kind naïve smile which appeared on her face when she listened to anything pleasant, men thought, “Yes, she’s all right,” and smiled too, and lady-visitors could not refrain from suddenly seizing her hand in the middle of a conversation and exclaiming with a gush of delight: “You darling!”

The house in which she had lived since her birth and which had been left her in her father’s will, was on the outskirts of the town in the Gipsy Suburb, not far from the Tivoli Gardens. In the evenings and at night she could hear the band playing and rockets going off with a bang in the Gardens, and it seemed to her that Kúkin was fighting his fate and taking his chief foe, the indifferent public, by assault: her heart melted tenderly, she had no wish to sleep, and when he returned home towards morning she tapped softly at her bedroom window and, letting him see only her face and one shoulder through the curtains, gave him a friendly smile.

He proposed, and they were married. And when he had a good view of her neck and her plump healthy shoulders, he threw up and clasped his hands and said: “Darling!”

He was happy but, as it rained on their wedding day and the whole of the following night, the despairing expression never left his face.

After the wedding they lived happily together. She sat in his booking-office, saw that the Tivoli Gardens were in order, entered up the accounts and paid the salaries; and her rosy cheeks, her sweet naïve smile, shining like a halo, appeared now at the window of the booking-office, now behind the scenes, now at the refreshment-bar. And she began to tell her acquaintances that the theatre was the most remarkable, most important, and most necessary thing in the world--that only at the theatre could one obtain true pleasure and become cultivated and humane.

“But do you think the public understands that?” she said. “They want a common booth! Yesterday we put on ‘Faust Inside Out,’ and almost all the boxes were empty, but if Vánichka and I were to give some common trash, believe me the theatre would be packed. To-morrow Vánichka and I are giving ‘Orpheus in Hell’; mind you come!” And what Kúkin said about the theatre and the actors she repeated; she despised the public as he did, for their indifference to art and their ignorance; she took part in the rehearsals, corrected the actors, kept an eye on the behaviour of the musicians, and when the local paper criticised their theatre unfavourably she cried, and afterwards went to the newspaper office for explanations.

The actors were fond of her and called her “Vánichka and I,” and “the Darling.” She was sorry for them and used to lend them small sums, and if it happened that they did not pay her, she cried in secret, but made no complaint to her husband.

And in the winter they got on quite well. They took a theatre in the town for the whole winter and sub-let it for short periods, now to an Ukrainian troupe, now to a conjuror, now to a local dramatic company. Olenka grew plumper and was all beaming with pleasure, but Kúkin grew thinner and sallower and complained of terrible losses, though business had not been bad all winter. He used to cough at night, and she gave him raspberry or lime-blossom tea, rubbed him with eau-de-Cologne, and wrapped him up in her soft shawls.

“What a splendid dear you are!” she said, quite sincerely, smoothing his hair. “What a good-looking pet you are!”

In Lent he went to Moscow to gather a troupe, and without him she could not sleep, but sat by the window looking at the stars. She compared herself, at the time, to the hens who keep awake all night and are restless when the cock is not in the hen-house. Kúkin was detained in Moscow and wrote that he would return for Easter, and his letters already contained arrangements about the Tivoli Gardens. But on the Monday in Passion Week, late in the evening, an ominous knock was suddenly heard at the gate; someone was hammering at the gate as if on a barrel: boom, boom, boom! The sleepy cook, splashing with her bare feet through the puddles, ran to open the gate.

“Open for goodness’ sake!” said someone in a thick bass voice. “There’s a telegram for you!”

Olenka had received telegrams from her husband before, but this time for some reason she grew quite faint. She opened the telegram with trembling hands, and read as follows:

“Iván Kúkin passed away to-day suddenly pasway awaiting instructions fuferal Tuesday.”

It was typed “fuferal” in the telegram, and there was also the incomprehensible word ‘pasway.’ The signature was that of the manager of an operatic troupe.

“My precious!” sobbed Olenka. “Vánichka, my dearest, my precious. Why did I ever meet you? Why did I ever know and love you? Whom have I left? Why have you deserted your poor, unfortunate Olenka?”

Kúkin was buried on Tuesday in the Vagánkov cemetery in Moscow. Olenka returned home on Wednesday and as soon as she entered her house she fell on her bed and sobbed so loud that she could be heard in the street and in the neighbouring houses.

“The darling!” said the neighbours, as they crossed themselves. “Darling Olga Semënovna, how she does take on!”

Three months later Olenka was returning from Mass, melancholy and in deep mourning. It happened that a neighbour, Vasíli Andréich Pusloválov, who was also returning from church, walked beside her. He was manager of the merchant Babakáev’s timber-yard. He wore a straw hat, a white waistcoat and a gold watch-chain, and looked more like a squire than a tradesman.

“Everything has its own order, Olga Semënovna,” he said gravely, in a tone of sympathy, “and if any one of those near us dies, it must be that God willed it so, and so we must not forget ourselves but must bear it submissively.”

Having accompanied Olenka to the gate he took his leave of her and went on. All day after that she seemed to hear his dignified voice, and whenever she closed her eyes she saw his dark beard. He pleased her very much. And apparently she had also made an impression on him, for shortly afterwards an elderly lady with whom she was but slightly acquainted came to drink coffee with her, and as soon as she was seated at the table began to talk about Pustoválov and say what a good and reliable man he was, whom anyone would be glad to marry. Three days after that, Pustoválov himself came to call on her; he did not stay long, not more than ten minutes, and did not say much, but Olenka fell in love with him, so much in love that as if she were in a fever she did not sleep all night, and in the morning she sent for the elderly lady. The match was soon arranged, and then came the wedding.

Pustoválov and Olenka lived happily after their marriage. He was usually in the timber-yard till dinner and then went out on business, and Olenka took his place and sat in the office till the evening, writing out accounts and despatching goods.

“Now timber rises twenty per cent in price every year,” she said to customers and acquaintances. “Just think, we used to sell local timber, but now Vánichka has to go to Mogilév province every year to buy timber. And the freights!” she went on, covering both her cheeks with her hands in horror, “what freights!”

She felt as if she had dealt in timber quite a long time; that the most important and most necessary thing in life was timber; and there was something intimate and touching to her in the words: “balk, joist, pole, plank, scantling, batten, beam....”

At night when she slept, she dreamed of whole mountains of planks and boards, and long unending rows of carts conveying timber to distant places beyond the town. She dreamed of how a whole regiment of twenty-eight foot, nine-inch beams was marching on end to attack the timber-yard; joists, beams and boards knocked against one another with a resounding crash of dry wood, all falling down and rising again, piling themselves on one another. Olenka cried out in her sleep and Pustoválov said tenderly: “Olenka, what’s the matter, darling? Cross yourself!”

Her husband’s thoughts were hers too. If he thought the room too hot, or business slack, she thought so too. Her husband did not care for any entertainments and stayed at home on holidays, and so did she.

“You are always at home or in the office,” her acquaintances said to her. “You should go to the theatre, darling, or the circus.”

“Vánichka and I have no time to go to theatres,” she answered sedately. “We are hard-working people and have no time for trifling. What good are those theatres?”

On Saturdays Pustoválov and she went to evening service, on holidays to early service, and they returned from church side by side with a softened expression on their faces, both diffusing an agreeable perfume, and her silk dress rustling pleasantly. At home they had tea with fancy bread and different kinds of jam, and then cake. Every day at noon an appetising smell of beet-root soup and roast mutton or duck, or on fast days of fish, was noticeable in their yard and in the street outside, and one could not pass their gate without beginning to feel an appetite. In the office a samovar was always boiling, and customers were treated to tea and biscuits. Once a week the couple went to the baths and returned from there together, both red in the face.

“Yes, we get on all right,” Olenka used to say. “Thank heaven! God grant everyone a life such as Vánichka’s and mine.”

When Pustoválov went to the Mogilév province to buy timber she was much depressed and lay awake at night, crying. Sometimes in the evening the regimental veterinary surgeon, Smírnin, who rented their lodge, used to come to see her. He would tell her some news, or play cards with her, and that distracted her a little. She was specially interested in what he told her of his own family life: he was married and had a boy, but was separated from his wife because she had been unfaithful to him, and now he hated her but sent her forty roubles a month for his son’s maintenance. As she listened to this Olenka sighed, shook her head, and felt sorry for him.

“Well, God be with you,” she would say when he took his leave, and as she lighted him with a candle to the staircase. “Thank you for sharing my dullness. May the Queen of Heaven grant you good health!”

She always expressed herself thus sedately and sagaciously, imitating her husband, and when the veterinary surgeon was already disappearing beyond the door below, she would call after him:

“Do you know, Vladímir Platónych, you should make it up with your wife. Forgive her, if only for your son’s sake! The little boy no doubt understands.”

And when Pustoválov returned she told him in a low voice about the veterinary surgeon and his unhappy family life, and they both sighed, shook their heads, and spoke of the boy who no doubt pined for his father, and then, by some strange sequence of ideas, they went up to the icons, bowed to the ground, and prayed that God would send them children.

So the Pustoválovs lived quietly and peaceably in love and full accord for six years. But then one winter Pustoválov at the timber-yard went out without his cap, after drinking hot tea, to send off some timber, and caught cold and fell ill. He was treated by the best doctors, but got worse, and died after four months’ illness. And Olenka was again a widow.

“Whom have I now that you have forsaken me, my precious?” she sobbed, after she had buried her husband. “How am I to live without you, grief-stricken and wretched! Pity me, good people, utterly forlorn....”

She wore a black dress with weepers, gave up hats and gloves for good, and hardly ever went out except to go to church and to her husband’s grave, and at home she lived like a nun. It was only after six months had passed that she left off the weepers and opened the shutters of the windows. She was sometimes seen going to market with her cook to buy provisions, but how she now lived, and what went on in her house, could only be conjectured. People made conjectures, for instance, from seeing her drinking tea in her little garden with the veterinary surgeon, who read the newspaper aloud to her, and also from the fact that, meeting a lady she knew at the post-office, she had said to her:

“There is no regular veterinary inspection in our town, and therefore there is much illness. One is always hearing of people falling ill from the milk, and being infected by cows and horses. The health of domestic animals should really be looked after as carefully as the health of human beings.”

She repeated the veterinary’s thoughts and was now of his opinion about everything. It was clear that she could not live a year without some attachment and had found her new happiness in the lodge of her own house.

Another would have been censured for this, but no one could think ill of Olenka; everything she did was so natural. The veterinary surgeon and she never spoke to anybody about the change in their relations to one another, and they tried to conceal it, but did not succeed in this, for Olenka could have no secrets. When visitors, his comrades in the service, came to see him, she while pouring out the tea or serving supper would begin to speak about cattle-plague, or bovine tuberculosis and municipal slaughter-houses, while he would become dreadfully confused, and after the visitors had gone would seize her hand and hiss angrily:

“Didn’t I ask you not to speak of what you don’t understand? When we veterinaries talk among ourselves, please don’t join in. It’s really annoying!”

And she would look at him with amazement and agitation and would ask:

“Volódichka dear, what am I to speak about?”

And she would embrace him and with tears in her eyes entreat him not to be angry, and they would both be happy.

That happiness however did not last long. The veterinary left with his regiment and left for good, as the regiment was ordered to some very distant place, perhaps to Siberia. And Olenka was left alone.

She was entirely alone now. Her father had died long ago, and his armchair lay covered with dust and with a leg broken off, in the garret. She grew thinner and paler and people she met in the street no longer looked at her as they used to do; it was evident that her best years were over and left behind, and that a new unknown life was beginning about which it was better not to think. In the evenings she sat in her porch and could hear the music playing and the rockets bursting in the Tivoli Gardens, but they did not now awaken any thought in her. She looked indifferently at her empty yard, thought of nothing, wished for nothing, and afterwards when night came on she went to sleep, and saw in her dreams the empty yard. She ate and drank as if unwillingly.

But the principal thing and the worst of all was that she no longer had any opinions whatever. She saw the objects around her, and understood all that took place, but could form no opinions and did not know what to speak about. And how awful it is not to have any opinions! One sees, for instance, how a bottle is standing, or rain falling, or a peasant is driving his cart, but what the bottle, or rain, or peasant, is for, what sense there is in them, you can’t say--not even if someone gave you a thousand roubles to do so.

While she had Kúkin, Pustoválov, and afterwards the veterinary surgeon Olenka was able to explain everything and express her opinions about anything you liked; but now there was the same void in her mind and heart as in her yard. And it was harsh and bitter as wormwood in the mouth.

The town was gradually expanding on all sides; the Gipsy Suburb was now called a street, and where the Tivoli Gardens and the timber-yard had been, houses had sprung up, and several side streets had formed. How fast time flies! Olenka’s house had grown dingy, the roof had rusted, the outhouse had a slant to one side, and the whole yard was overgrown with docks and stinging nettles. Olenka herself had grown elderly and plain; in summer she sat in the porch, and her soul as before was empty, oppressed, and savoured of wormwood; in winter she sat at a window looking at the snow. When there was a scent of spring, or the wind brought the sound of the church bells, a flood of memories from the past would well up, her heart would contract with tender emotion and tears would flow freely from her eyes, but this was only for a moment, then again emptiness returned and she did not know why she lived. Brýska, her black cat, would rub against her softly and purr, but these feline caresses did not touch Olenka. Were they what she needed? She wanted a love that would absorb her whole being, her whole soul and reason, would give her ideas and a purpose in life, and would warm her ageing blood. And she brushed away black Brýska, and told her crossly:

“Get away ... you’ve no business here!”

And so she went on day after day, year after year, without a single joy, and without any opinions. Whatever Martha the cook said, that was right.

Towards the evening of a very hot July day, just as the town herd of cows was being driven through the streets and the whole yard was filled with clouds of dust, someone suddenly knocked at the gate. Olenka went herself to open it and was dumbfounded by what she saw: at the gate stood the veterinary Smírnin, now grey-haired and in civilian dress. She suddenly remembered everything, could not restrain herself, began crying, and let her head fall on his breast without saying a word, and in her great excitement did not notice how they both entered the house and sat down to tea.

“My dearest!” she muttered, trembling with joy. “Vladímir Platónych! From where has heaven sent you?”

“I want to settle here for good,” he told her. “I have left the army, and want to try my luck as a free man, and to live a settled life. Besides it is time to send my son to the high school. He’s a big boy. Do you know, I have made it up with my wife.”

“And where is she?” asked Olenka.

“She is at the hotel with our son, and I am hunting round looking for a lodging.”

“Oh goodness, my dear soul, take my house! What’s wrong with it? Oh, Lord, why, I won’t charge you anything,” said Olenka, excitedly, and again began to cry. “You live here, and the lodge will do well for me. What joy, oh, my goodness!”

Next day the roof of the house was already being painted and the wall whitewashed, and Olenka, her arms akimbo, went about the yard giving directions. The old smile beamed on her face and she was fresh and full of life again, as though she had waked up from a long sleep. The veterinary’s wife arrived--a thin, plain lady with short hair and a peevish face, and with her came the boy, Sásha, small for his age (he was going on for ten), plump, with clear blue eyes and dimples in his cheeks. Scarcely had the boy entered the yard before he rushed after the cat, and his merry joyous laughter immediately filled the air.

“Auntie, is this your cat?” he asked Olenka. “When she pups let me have a kitten. Mama is awfully afraid of mice.”

Olenka talked to him, gave him tea, and her heart suddenly grew warm and contracted tenderly, just as if he were her own son. And in the evening, when he sat down in her dining-room and prepared his lessons, she looked at him with emotion and pity and whispered:

“My pretty one, my precious ..., my little child! Fancy your being born so clever and so fair!”

“An island is a portion of dry land surrounded on all sides by water,” he read.

“An island is a portion of dry land ...” she repeated, and that was the first opinion she expressed with conviction after so many years of silence and absence of thought.

And she already had opinions of her own, and at supper she spoke to Sásha’s parents of how difficult it was for children nowadays to learn in the high-schools, but that a classical high-school education was, all the same, better than a commercial one, as after finishing at the high-school all careers were open to you, whether you wished to be a doctor or an engineer.

Sásha began going to the high-school. His mother went to stay with her sister in Khárkov, and did not return; his father went away somewhere every day to inspect herds of cattle, and would sometimes be away from home for three days at a time; it seemed to Olenka that they had quite abandoned Sásha, that he was not wanted at home, that he was being starved, and she took him to her lodge and arranged a little room there for him.

Half-a-year has already passed now since Sásha came to live in her lodge. Every morning Olenka comes into his room; he is fast asleep with his hand under his cheek, scarcely breathing. She is sorry to wake him.

“Sáshenka,” she would say sadly, “get up, dear! Time to go to school.”

He gets up, dresses, says his prayers, and then sits down to breakfast. He drinks three tumblers of tea and eats two big plain cakes and half a French roll with butter. He is not quite awake yet, and therefore not in a good temper.

“But, Sáshenka, you did not quite learn your fable,” Olenka says, gazing at him as if she was seeing him off on a long journey. “I am troubled about you. You must take pains to learn, dearest ... and obey your masters.”

“Oh, do leave me alone!” says Sásha.

When he goes along the street to school, himself small but wearing a big cap and with a satchel on his back, Olenka follows him noiselessly.

“Sáshenka!” she calls.

He turns round and she slips a date or a caramel into his hand. When they turn into the side street where the school stands he feels ashamed of being followed by a tall, stout woman; he looks round and says:

“You go home, auntie; I can go on alone now.”

She stops, and follows him with her eyes fixedly until he disappears into the school doorway. Oh, how she loves him! Not one of her former attachments had been so deep, never before had her soul surrendered itself so freely, so disinterestedly, and so joyously, as it did now when the maternal feelings grew more and more ardent within her. For this boy, who was not hers, for the dimples in his cheeks, for his peaked cap, she would have laid down her life, given it gladly and with tears of emotion. Why? Who can tell why?

Having seen Sásha to school she returns home quietly, so content, serene, and full of love. Her face, which has grown younger-looking during the last half-year, is smiling and radiant, those she meets look at her with pleasure, and say:

“Good morning, Olga Semënovna, darling! How are you, darling?”

“The work at the high-school is very difficult nowadays,” she relates when she goes marketing. “It’s no joke,--in the first class yesterday they had a fable to learn by heart, a Latin translation, and a sum as well.... How is a little fellow to do it all?”

And she begins talking about teachers, lessons, and the lesson-books, saying just what Sásha says about them.

After two o’clock they dine together, and in the evening they do Sásha’s home work and cry together. When tucking him up in bed, she spends a long time making the sign of the cross over him and whispering a prayer; then, when she goes to bed, she dreams of the dim and distant future when Sásha, having finished the course and become a doctor or an engineer, will have a big house of his own with a carriage and horses, and will marry, and children will be borne to him.... She falls asleep still thinking of the same thing, and the tears roll down her cheeks from under her closed eye-lids. The black cat lies at her side and purrs. “Prr ... prr ... prr....”

Suddenly there is a loud knock at the gate. Olenka wakes up breathless with fear, and her heart beats violently. Half-a-minute passes and the knocking is repeated.

“It’s a telegram from Khárkov,” she thinks, beginning to tremble all over. “His mother demands that Sásha should be sent to her in Khárkov.... Oh, God!”

She is in despair. Her head, her feet and hands, grow cold; there is nobody in the world more unhappy than she. But another minute passes, voices are heard: it is the veterinary surgeon returning from the club.

“Well, thank God!” she thinks.

The weight is gradually lifted from her heart, and it feels light again. She lies down and thinks about Sásha, who is fast asleep in the next room and sometimes mutters in his dream:

“I’ll give it you! Be off! Don’t fight!”

THE END

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Oxford University Press, “World’s Classics” series, London and New York.

[2] Oxford University Press, “World’s Classics” series, London and New York.

[3] In Russian the word ‘poet’ is used not only of writers of verse, but also of writers of fiction and poetic prose.

[4] Oxford University Press, “World’s Classics” series, London and New York.

[5] The _Viy_ is an Earth-Spirit, and Gógol’s tale is gruesome.

[6] A daring leader of the hill-tribes, who was prominent at the time Tolstoy was serving in the Caucasus.

[7] Some details of this crime are given in “Why do Men Stupefy Themselves?” in _Essays and Letters_, published in the _World’s Classics_.

[8] From _The Life of Tolstoy_ Vol II, by Aylmer Maude.

[9] That is, Márya Lvóvna, Tolstoy’s second daughter, who was devoted both to her father and to his teachings.

[10] A reliable man.

[11] By Zola.

[12] Stories by Georges Sand.

[13] Hips and throats.

[14] The old hag.

[15] Deceived and ridiculous.

[16] “Console me, amuse me, sadden me, touch my heart, make me dream, make me laugh, make me tremble, make me weep, make me think. Only a few chosen spirits bid the artist compose something beautiful, in the form that best suits his temperament.”

[17] The defect of Christianity is clearly seen in this. It is too exclusively moral; it quite sacrifices beauty. But in the eyes of a complete philosophy beauty, far from being a superficial advantage, a danger, an inconvenience, is a gift of God, like virtue. It is worth as much as virtue; the beautiful woman expresses an aspect of the divine purpose, one of God’s aims, as well as a man of genius does, or a virtuous woman. She feels this, and hence her pride. She is instinctively conscious of the infinite treasure she possesses in her body; she is well aware that without intellect, without talent, without great virtue, she counts among the chief manifestations of God. And why forbid her to make the most of the gift bestowed upon her, or to give the diamond allotted to her its due setting? By adorning herself woman accomplishes a duty; she practises an art, an exquisite art, in a sense the most charming of arts. Do not let us be misled by the smile which certain words provoke in the _frivolous_. We award the palm of genius to the Greek artist who succeeded in solving the most delicate of problems, that of adorning the human body, that is to say, adorning perfection itself, and yet some people wish to see nothing more than an affair of _chiffons_ in the attempt to collaborate with the finest work of God--woman’s beauty! Woman’s toilette with all its refinements is a great art in its own way. The epochs and countries which can succeed in this are the great epochs and great countries, and Christianity, by the embargo it laid on this kind of research, showed that the social ideal it had conceived would only become the framework of a complete society at a much later period, when the revolt of men of the world had broken the narrow yoke originally imposed on the sect by a fanatical pietism.

[18] The schools for training ballet-dancers, as well as the theatres where the chief ballets were performed, were State institutions in Russia.

[19] The most usual and widely diffused definition of art is that art is a particular activity not aiming at material utility, but affording pleasure to people; a pleasure, it is usually added, “ennobling and elevating to the soul.”

This definition corresponds to the conception of art held by the majority of people; but it is inexact and not quite clear, and admits of very arbitrary interpretation.

It is not clear, for it fuses in one conception art as a human activity producing objects of art, and also the feelings of the recipient; and it admits of arbitrary interpretation, because it does not define wherein lies the pleasure that “ennobles and elevates the soul.” So that one person may declare that he receives such pleasure from a certain production from which another does not receive it at all.

And therefore to define art it is necessary to define the peculiarity of that activity, both in its origin in the soul of the producer and in the peculiarity of its action on the souls of the recipients. This activity is distinguished from any other activity of craftsmanship, or trade, or even science (though it has great affinity with this last), in that it is not evoked by any material need, but supplies to both producer and recipient a special kind of so-called “artistic satisfaction.” To explain to oneself this characteristic we must understand what impels people to this activity--that is, how artistic production originates.

[20] The division of the results of man’s mental activity into scientific, philosophic, theological, hortatory, artistic, and other groups, is made for convenience of observation. But such divisions do not exist in reality; just as the divisions of the River Volga into the Tver, Nizhigorod, Simbirsk and Saratov sections, are not divisions of the river itself, but divisions we make for our own convenience.

[21] Half-a-century ago no explanation would have been needed of the words “important”, “good”, and “moral”, but in our time nine out of ten educated people, at these words, will ask with a triumphant air: “What _is_ important, good or moral?” assuming that these words express something conditional and not admitting of definition and therefore I must answer this anticipated objection.

That which unites people, not by violence but by love: that which serves to disclose the joy of the union of men with one another, is “important”, “good”, or “moral”. “Evil” and “immoral” is that which divides them, which leads men to the suffering that is produced by disunion. “Important” is that which causes people to understand and to love what they previously did not understand or love.

[22] Ireland’s _Vortigern_.

[23] I leave this as it stood in the first edition, but after it was written I heard from Tolstoy twice on the subject. First, my friend Paul Boulanger wrote from Yásnaya Polyána (24th June 1901, O.S.), during an illness of Tolstoy’s as follows:--

“You ask why Tolstoy did not mention Ruskin in _What is Art?_ He asks me to reply that he did not do so: first, because Ruskin attributes a special moral importance to beauty in art; and, secondly, because all his writings, rich as they are in depth of thought, are yet not bound together by any one ruling idea.”

After Tolstoy’s recovery, a letter (undated) reached me on 17th August 1901, in which he wrote:--

“I have forgotten what I wrote you about Ruskin, and fear it was not correct. I have lately read an excellent book about him, _Ruskin et la Bible_, I think by Brunhes. Ruskin’s chief limitation was that he could never quite free himself from the Church-Christian outlook upon life. At the time he commenced his work on social questions, when he wrote _Unto this Last_, he freed himself from the dogmatic tradition, but a cloudy Church-Christian understanding of the demands of life--which made it possible for him to unite ethical with esthetical ideals--remained with him to the end and weakened his message. It was also weakened by the artificiality, and consequent obscurity, of his poetic style. Do not imagine that I deny the work of this great man, who has quite rightly been called a prophet. I always was charmed and am charmed by him, but I point out spots which exist even on the sun. He is specially good when a wise writer, in accord with him, makes extracts from him, as is done in _Ruskin et la Bible_ (which read), but to read all Ruskin consecutively, as I did, greatly weakens his effect.”

[24] _Boyhood, Childhood and Youth_ were published in 1851–7. _Sevastopol_ 1855–6. _Family Happiness_ 1859. _The Cossacks_ and _Polikushka_ in 1863. _War and Peace_ 1864–9, and _Anna Karénina_ 1875–7.

[25] As the term “mystic” is used in more than one sense in English, I must explain that I use it to denote one who believes in a wisdom “sacredly obscure or secret” (_Chambers’s Dictionary_), or “not discriminated or tested by the reason” (_Century Dictionary_). This is the sense in which it would generally be used in Russian, and in which Tolstoy uses the word.

[26] Both of which were written in the interval between _War and Peace_ and _Anna Karénina_ (1869–1872) and are included in the volume of _Twenty-three Tales_.

[27] Indeed, in the earlier period of his literary activity he devoted much attention to style, and spent great pains upon it. About the period at which he wrote _Three Deaths_ (1859), it is said, the style of his great artistic contemporary, Turgénev, exercised much influence on his own.

[28] Tolstoy’s remarks on Church religion were re-worded so as to seem to relate only to the Western Church, and his disapproval of luxurious life was made to apply not, say, to Queen Victoria or Nicholas II, but to the Cæsars or the Pharaohs.

[29] The Russian peasant was usually a member of a village commune, and had therefore a right to share in the land belonging to the village. Tolstoy disapproved of the order of society which allows less land for the support of a whole village full of people than was sometimes owned by a single landed proprietor. The Censor did not allow disapproval of this state of things to be expressed, but was prepared to admit that the laws and customs, say, of England--where a yet more extreme form of landed property existed and the men who actually labour on the land usually possessed none of it--deserved criticism.--A. M.

[30] Only two, or at most three, senses are generally held worthy to supply matter for artistic treatment, but I think this opinion is only conditionally correct. I will not lay too much stress on the fact that our common speech recognises many other arts, as, for instance, the art of cookery.

[31] And yet it is certainly an esthetic achievement when the art of cooking succeeds in making of an animal’s corpse an object in all respects tasteful. The principle of the Art of Taste (which goes beyond the so-called Art of Cookery) is therefore this: All that is eatable should be treated as the symbol of some Idea, and always in harmony with the Idea to be expressed.

[32] If the sense of touch lacks colour, it gives us, on the other hand, a notion which the eye alone cannot afford, and one of considerable esthetic value, namely, that of _softness_, _silkiness_, _polish_. The beauty of velvet is characterised not less by its softness to the touch than by its lustre. In the idea we form of a woman’s beauty, the softness of her skin enters as an essential element.

Each of us probably, with a little attention, can recall pleasures of taste which have been real esthetic pleasures.

[33] M. Schasler, _Kritische Geschichte der Aesthetik_, 1872, Vol. I, p. 13.

[34] There is no science which more entirely than esthetics has been handed over to the dreams of the metaphysicians. From Plato down to the received doctrines of our day, people have made of art a strange amalgam of quintessential fancies and transcendental mysteries, which find their supreme expression in the conception of an absolute ideal Beauty, immutable and divine prototype of actual things.

[35] See on this matter Bernard’s admirable book, _L’esthétique d’Aristote_, also Walter’s _Geschichte der Aesthetik im Altertum_.

[36] Schasler, p. 361.

[37] Schasler, p. 369.

[38] Schasler, pp. 388–390.

[39] Knight, _Philosophy of the Beautiful_, Vol. I, pp. 165, 166.

[40] Schasler, p. 289. Knight, pp. 168, 169.

[41] R. Kralik, _Weltschönheit, Versuch einer allgemeinen Aesthetik_, pp. 304–306.

[42] Knight, p. 101.

[43] Schasler, p. 316.

[44] Knight, pp. 102–104.

[45] R. Kralik, p. 124.

[46] Schasler, p. 328.

[47] Schasler, pp. 331–333.

[48] Schasler, pp. 525–528.

[49] Knight, pp. 61–63.

[50] Schasler, pp. 740–743.

[51] Schasler, pp. 769–771.

[52] Schasler, pp. 786, 787.

[53] Kralik, p. 148.

[54] Kralik, p. 820.

[55] Schasler, pp. 828, 829, 834–841.

[56] Schasler, p. 891.

[57] Schasler, p. 917.

[58] Schasler, pp. 946, 1085, 984, 985, 990.

[59] Schasler, pp. 966, 655, 956.

[60] Schasler, p. 1017.

[61] Schasler, pp. 1065, 1066.

[62] Schasler, pp. 1097–1100.

[63] Schasler, pp. 1124, 1107.

[64] Knight, pp. 81, 82.

[65] Knight, p. 83.

[66] Schasler, p. 1121.

[67] Knight, pp. 85, 86.

[68] Knight, p. 88.

[69] Knight, p. 88.

[70] Knight, p. 112.

[71] Knight, p. 116.

[72] Knight, pp. 118, 119.

[73] Knight, pp. 123, 124.

[74] “The most divine and especially the most perfect beauty contains the secret of the world,” _La philosophie en France_, p. 232.

[75] “The whole world is the work of an absolute beauty, which is only the cause of things by the love it puts into them.”

[76] “Let us not fear to say that a truth which is not beautiful, is but a logical play of our intelligence, and that the only truth that is solid and worthy of the name is beauty.” _Du fondemont de l’induction._

[77] _Philosophie de l’art_, Vol. I, 1893, p. 47.

[78] Knight, pp. 139–141.

[79] Knight, p. 134.

[80] There is no other Reality than God, there is no other Truth than God, there is no other beauty than God.

[81] _L’esthétique_, p. 106.

[82] Knight, p. 238.

[83] Knight, pp. 239, 240.

[84] Knight, pp. 240–243.

[85] Knight, pp. 250–252.

[86] Knight, pp. 258, 259.

[87] Knight, p. 243.

[88] “The foundling of Nuremberg,” found in the market-place of that town on 23rd May 1828, apparently some sixteen years old. He spoke little, and was almost totally ignorant even of common objects. He subsequently explained that he had been brought up in confinement underground, and visited by only one man, whom he saw but seldom.

[89] Eastern sects well known in early Church history, who rejected the Church’s rendering of Christ’s teaching and were cruelly persecuted.--A. M.

[90] Peter of Chelczic, a Bohemian, was one of the successors of John Huss. In 1457 he was leader of the non-resistants called the United Brethren. He was the author of a remarkable book, _The Net of Faith_, directed against Church and State. It is mentioned in Tolstoy’s _The Kingdom of God is Within You_.--A. M.

[91] Anyone examining closely may see that the theory of beauty and that of art are quite separated in Aristotle as they are in Plato and in all their successors.

[92] Die Lücke von fünf Jahrhunderten welche zwischen den Kunst-philosophischen Betrachtungen des Plato und Aristoteles und die des Plotins fällt, kann zwar auffällig erscheinen; dennoch kann man eigentlich nicht sagen, dass in dieser Zwischenzeit überhaupt von ästhetischen Dingen nicht die Rede gewesen; oder dass gar ein völliger Mangel an Zusammenhang zwischen den Kunst-anschauungen des letztgenannten Philosophen und denen dei ersteren existire. Freilich wurde die von Aristotle begründete Wissenschaft in Nichts dadurch gefördert! immerhin aber zeigt sich in jener Zwischenzeit noch ein gewisses Interesse für ästhetische Fragen. Nach Plotin aber, die wenigen, ihm in der Zeit nahestehenden Philosophen, wie Longin, Augustin, u. s. f. kommen, wie wir gesehen, kaum in Betracht und schliessen sich übrigens in ihrer Anschauungsweise an ihn an,--vergehen nicht fünf, sondern _fünfzehen Jahrhunderte_, in denen von irgend einem wissenschaftlichen Interesse für die Welt des Schönen und der Kunst nichts zu spüren ist.

Diese anderthalbtausend Jahre, innerhalb deren der Weltgeist durch die mannigfachsten Kämpfe hindurch zu einer völlig neuen Gestaltung des Lebens sich durcharbeitete, sind für die Aesthetik, hinsichtlich des weiteren Ausbaus dieser Wissenschaft verloren.--Kritische Geschichte der Aesthetik, von Max Schasler. Berlin, 1872, p. 253, § 25.

* * * * *

The gap of five hundred years, which occurred between the artistic-philosophic observations of Plato and Aristotle and those of Plotinus, may indeed appear striking, but one cannot exactly say that in this interval of time there was absolutely no mention of esthetic matters; or even that a complete lack of correspondence exists between the art-views of the last-named philosopher and that of the former. It is true that the science founded by Aristotle was not in any way advanced thereby; but, for all that, during this interval a certain interest in esthetic questions still appears. But after Plotinus (the few philosophers near him in time, such as Longinus, Augustinus and so forth, hardly come into question as we have seen, and moreover they adhere to him in their views) there passed not five, but _fifteen_ centuries in which there is no indication of any sort of scientific interest for the world of the beautiful and of art.

These one-and-a-half-thousand years, within which the world-spirit worked out a completely new foundation of life, are lost for esthetics as regards any further construction of this science.

[93] The fate of books depends on the head of the reader.

[94] _What is Art?_ was translated by me from Tolstoy’s MSS., which he sent me chapter by chapter as he wrote it. He revised his work to such an extent that some chapters were re-written three times over after he first sent them to me for translation. The following passages belonging to an early version of this chapter, though he did not retain them in his final revision, seem worth preserving, so I give them here in a foot-note:

We only need escape for a moment from the habit of considering this trinity of Goodness, Beauty and Truth, presented to us by Baumgarten, to be as true as the Trinity of religion, and need only ask ourselves what we all have always understood by the words which make up this triad, in order to be convinced of the utterly fantastic nature of the union into one, of three absolutely different words and conceptions which are not even commensurable in meaning.

Goodness, Beauty, and Truth are put on one level, and all three conceptions are treated as though they were fundamental and metaphysical. Whereas in reality such is not at all the case.

Goodness is the eternal, the highest, aim of our life. However we may understand goodness, our life is nothing but a striving towards the good, that is, towards God.

Goodness is really the fundamental metaphysical perception which forms the essence of our consciousness: a perception not defined by reason.

Goodness is that which cannot be defined by anything else, but which defines everything else.

But Beauty--if we do not want mere words but speak about what we understand--beauty is nothing but what pleases us. The notion of beauty not only does not coincide with goodness, but rather is contrary to it; for the good most often coincides with victory over the passions, while beauty is at the root of all our passions.

The more utterly we surrender ourselves to beauty the farther we depart from goodness. I know that to this people always reply that there is a moral and spiritual beauty, but this is merely playing with words, for by spiritual and moral beauty nothing else is understood but goodness. For the most part, beauty of soul, or goodness not only does not coincide with what is ordinarily understood as beauty, but is contrary to it.

As to truth--still less can we attribute to this member of the trinity identity with goodness, or even any independent existence at all.

By truth we merely mean the correspondence of an expression, or of the definition of an object, with reality, or with an understanding of the object common to everyone, and therefore it is a means of arriving at the good. But what is there in common between the conceptions of beauty and truth on the one hand, and of goodness on the other? Truth spoken expressly to cause annoyance certainly does not harmonise with goodness.

Not only are beauty and truth not conceptions equivalent to goodness, and not only do they not form one entity with goodness, but they do not even coincide with it. For instance, Socrates and Pascal as well as many others, considered that learning the truth about unnecessary things does not accord with goodness. With beauty, truth has not even anything in common, but for the most part is in contradiction with it, for truth generally exposes the deception and destroys the illusion which is a chief condition of beauty.

And lo and behold! the arbitrary conjunction into one, of these three conceptions which are not commensurable but foreign to one another, has served as the basis for that amazing theory according to which the difference between good art, transmitting good feeling, and bad art, transmitting bad feeling, is completely obliterated, and one of the lowest manifestations of art, art merely for enjoyment--that art against which all the teachers of humanity have warned mankind--has come to be considered the highest art.

[95] The contrast made is between the classes and the masses: between those who do not and those who do earn their bread by productive manual labour; the middle classes being taken as an offshoot of the upper classes.--A. M.

[96] Duelling was still customary among the higher circles in Russia, as in other Continental countries when this was written.--A. M.

[97] ... it is weariness of life, contempt for the present epoch, regret for another age seen through the illusion of art, a taste for paradox, a desire to be singular, a sentimental aspiration towards simplicity, an infantile adoration of the marvellous, a sickly tendency towards reverie, a shattered condition of nerves,--and, above all, the exasperated demand of sensuality.

[98] Music, music before all things! The eccentric still prefer, Vague in air, and nothing weighty, Soluble. Yet do not err,

Choosing words; still do it lightly, Do it with contemptuous mind: Dearest are grey songs where mingle The Defined and Undefined!

* * * * * * *

Music always, now and ever! Be thy verse the thing that flies From a soul that’s gone, escaping, Gone to other loves and skies.

Gone to other loves and regions, Following fortunes that allure, Mint and thyme and morning crispness ... All the rest’s mere literature.

[99] I think there should be nothing but allusions. The contemplation of objects, the flying image of reveries evoked by them, make the song. The Parnassians state the thing completely, and show it, and thereby lack mystery; they deprive the mind of that delicious joy of imagining that it creates. To _name an object is to take away three-fourths of the enjoyment of the poem, which consists in the happiness of guessing little by little: to suggest it, that is the dream_. It is the perfect use of this mystery that constitutes the symbol: little by little to evoke an object in order to show a state of the soul; or inversely, to choose an object, and from it to disengage a state of the soul by a series of decipherings.

... If a being of mediocre intelligence and insufficient literary preparation chances to open a book made in this way and pretends to enjoy it, there is a misunderstanding--things must be returned to their places. _There should always be an enigma in poetry_, and the aim of literature--it has no other--is to evoke objects.

[100] It were time also to have done with this famous “theory of obscurity,” which the new school has practically raised to the height of a dogma.

[101] For translation, see Appendix I.

[102] For translation, see Appendix I.

[103] For translation, see Appendix I.

[104] For translation, see Appendix I.

[105] For translation, see Appendix I.

[106] For translation, see Appendix I.

[107] For translation, see Appendix I.

[108] I do not wish to think any more, except about my mother Mary, Seat of wisdom and source of pardon, Also Mother of France, _from whom we_ _Steadfastly expect the honour of our country_.

[109] This sonnet seems too unintelligible for translation.--Trans.

[110] For translation, see Appendix I.

[111] It was Tolstoy’s eldest daughter, Tatiana, Mme. Sukhotin; who was herself a talented art-student.--A. M.

[112] Ibsen’s _The Master-Builder_.--A. M.

[113] Ibsen’s _Little Eyolf_.--A. M.

[114] Maeterlinck’s _Les Aveugles_.--A. M.

[115] G. Hauptmann’s _Die versunkene Glocke_.--A. M.

[116] “The quicker it goes the longer it lasts.”

[117] All styles are good except the wearisome style.

[118] All styles are good except that which is not understood, _or_ which fails to produce its effect.

[119] By G. Hauptmann.

[120] An apparatus exists by means of which a very sensitive arrow, in dependence on the tension of a muscle of the arm, will indicate the physiological action of music on the nerves and muscles.--L. T.

[121] There is in Moscow a magnificent “Cathedral of our Saviour,” erected to commemorate the defeat of the French in the war of 1812.--A. M.

[122] “That they may be one; even as thou, Father, art in me, and I in Thee, that they also may be in us.”

[123] In this picture the spectators in the Roman Amphitheatre are turning down their thumbs to show that they wish the vanquished gladiator to be killed.--A. M.

[124] While offering as examples of art those that seem to me the best, I attach no special importance to my selection; for, besides being insufficiently informed in all branches of art, I belong to the class of people whose taste has, by false training, been perverted. And therefore my old, inured habits may cause me to err, and I may mistake for absolute merit the impression a work produced on me in my youth. My only purpose in mentioning examples of works of this or that class is to make my meaning clearer, and to show how, with my present views, I understand excellence in art in relation to its subject-matter. I must moreover mention that I consign my own artistic productions to the category of bad art, excepting the story _God sees the Truth but Waits_, which seeks a place in the first class, and _The Prisoner of the Caucasus_, which belongs to the second.--L. T.

(Both the stories mentioned are included in _Twenty-Three Tales_ in the Maude Tolstoy “World’s Classics” series.--A. M.)

[125] In Russian it is customary to make a distinction between literate and illiterate people, that is, between those who can and those who cannot read. _Literate_ in this sense does not imply that the man would speak or write correctly.--A. M.

[126] Sténka Rázin was by origin a common Cossack. His brother was hanged for a breach of military discipline, and to this event Sténka Rázin’s hatred of the governing classes has been attributed. He formed a robber band, and subsequently headed a formidable rebellion, declaring himself in favour of freedom for the serfs, religious toleration, and the abolition of taxes. Like the Government he opposed, he relied on force, and though he used it largely in defence of the poor against the rich he still held to

“The good old rule, the simple plan, That they should take who have the power, And they should keep who can.”

Like Robin Hood he is favourably treated in popular legends.--A. M.

[127] Robert Macaire is a modern type of adroit and audacious rascality. He was the hero of a popular play produced in Paris in 1834, and of one written by R. L. Stevenson and W. E. Henley, 1897.--A. M.

[128] Tolstoy’s doctrine of Non-Resistance to “him that is evil” by any use of physical force has caused much perplexity and is accepted in its completeness by but few people in the Western world. In this passage however he states it in a form to which it would be hard to raise any objection. Never before had the doctrine of Non-Resistance been put so briefly, persuasively, and attractively.--A. M.

[129] The translation in Appendices I, II and IV are by my wife, Louise Maude. The aim of these renderings has been to keep as close to the originals as the obscurity of meaning allowed. The sense (or absence of sense) has therefore been more considered than the form of the verses.--A. M.

[130] The existence of such editions was a factor in inducing one hundred and twenty very distinguished English and American writers, dramatists, critics, and publicists, to endorse a letter written by G. Bernard Shaw to the press, in 1922, asking the public to support the “Maude Tolstoys,” in the Oxford University Press edition, and thus make commercially possible the completion of a reliable and satisfactory rendering of Tolstoy’s works in English.

[131] Written soon after the Rowntrees had been attacked by a patriotic mob, whose feelings were harrowed by an attempt to hold a peace-meeting.

[132] _Essays and Letters_, “World’s Classics” series.

[133] _Essays and Letters_, “World’s Classics” series.

[134] _The Function of Criticism at the Present Time_, in _Essays in Criticism_.

[135] E. H. Crosby was for some time a member of the New York State Legislature; subsequently he went to Egypt as a judge in the Mixed Tribunals. While there he began reading the works of Tolstoy, which had a great influence upon him. He visited Tolstoy, and afterwards co-operated with him in various ways. In a remarkable essay on “Shakespeare and the Working Classes” E. H. Crosby drew attention to the consistently anti-democratic tendency of that poet’s plays. It is to this essay that Tolstoy here refers.--A. M.

[136] Tolstoy was born in 1828. This essay appeared in 1906, so that Tolstoy began his re-reading of Shakespeare three years before he published the article.

[137] “Lear is the occasion for Cordelia. The daughter’s maternity towards the father; profound subject; maternity venerable among all other maternities, so admirably rendered by the legend of that Roman girl, nurse, in the depths of a prison, of her old father. The young breast near the white beard, there is no spectacle more holy. That filial breast is Cordelia.

“Once this figure was dreamed and found Shakespeare created his drama.... Shakespeare carrying Cordelia in his thoughts, created that tragedy as a god, who having an aurora to place makes a world expressly for it.”

[138] “A Declaration of egregious popish impostures, etc.,” by Dr. Samuel Harsnet, London 1603, which contains almost all that Edgar says in his feigned madness.--A. M.

[139] “One sees the intention and one is put off.”

[140] This and the quotations in English that follow are taken from _Shakespeare’s Commentaries_, by Dr. G. G. Gervinus, translated by F. G. Bennett, London, 1877.

[141] _Shakespeare_, Von G. G. Gervinus, Leipzig, 1872. Vol. II, pp. 550–51.

[142] Tolstoy’s essay _Non-acting_ (see _Essays and Letters_ in the “World’s Classics” series) deals with a controversy that occurred in 1893 between Zola and Dumas. In it Tolstoy controverts the opinion that activity in itself, lacking moral guidance, is beneficial.

[143] _William Shakespeare_, by Georges Brandes, translated by William Archer and Miss Morison. London, 1898, p. 921.

[144] A Russian poet of much delicacy of feeling, for many years a great friend of Tolstoy’s. He is frequently referred to in my _Life of Tolstoy_.--A. M.

INDEX

Academy, Royal, of 1897, 271.

_Albert_, a story by Tolstoy, 8

Alison, _Essay on the Nature and Principles of Taste_, 157–8

American publications, 385

Amiel’s _Journal_, 18, 38–42

Andre, Père, _Essai sur le Beau_, 146

“Animal of unspoilt scent,” 268

Appraisement of feelings made by religious perception, 278

Approval, a matter of degree, 113

Aristotle, 141, 184

Arnold, Matthew, _The Function of Criticism_, 382

Art artisans of, 237 basis of action of, 171 blind alley, 313 “can evoke reverence for the dignity of every man,” 332 canon of, 164 Christian, 285, 288, 293–4 a. Religious, 296 b. Universal, 296, 333 of Church Christianity, 179 “comprehensible to men less educated than our labourers,” 226 content of, 85 definition of, 80–1, 171, 173, 362–3 experimental, 169 physiological evolutionary, 169, 170 metaphysical, 169, 170 destiny of, 333 dramatic form, qualifications needed to produce in, 239 effect on children, 198 empty and vicious, 283 essence of, 237 essential organ, 298 for art’s sake, 77, 87 for enjoyment, first esteemed by whom, 182 future, 313, 318, 320, 368 good of two kinds, 286 impoverishment of subject-matter of, 199 indestructible spiritual organ, 309 indispensable means of communication, 175 infection by, 171 influence of, 287 limited sphere of our, 193 means of intercourse, 170 means of union, 173 and Science: the difference, 225 of Middle Ages, 179–81 neo-esthetic theories of, 170 organ of human progress, 297 organ transmitting man’s reasonable perceptions into feelings, 331 patriotic, 285 productions that were “a temporary pastime,” 195 prostitute of our circle, 311 realistic, 87 recognized by early Christians, 178 should cause violence to be set aside, 331 simple feelings, 318 subject matter of, 197, 287 task to make feeling of brotherhood customary, 332 tendencious, 87 vehicle to draw men towards perfection, 320 which has left no trace, 166 “will lay in the souls of men the rails along which their actions will naturally pass,” 333 will be an organ co-equally important with science for the life of mankind, 331

Artist of the future, 318, 368

Artistic impression, when produced, 231 productions that are “as unintelligible as Sanskrit,” 194 sects exclude one another, 130

Bach, J. S., 269, 292

Ballet-dancers receive more honour than the Saints, 301

Barge with kedge-anchors, 322

Bastien-Lepage, 310

Batteux, 146

Baudelaire, P. C., 207–214, 334–6 _Duellum_, 208, 334–5 _Fleur du mal_, 207, 302, 334 _La Soupe et les nuages_, 209, 335–6 _Le Galant Tireur_, 210, 336 _L’étranger_, 209, 335 _Petits poemes en prose_, 204, 335

Baumgarten, A. G., 143, 187–8

Bayreuth, performances at, 260, 262

Bazin, Réné, _La Terre qui meurt_, 380

Beauty, 83–5, 143, 148–163, 166–8, 182, 186–7, 189–90, 196, 293, 303, 361, 369 definition of, 163–4 furnishes no criterion of art, 112 is “that which pleases,” 163 Truth and Goodness, 143–7, 156, 189–90

Beecher-Stowe, Harriet, _Uncle Tom’s Cabin_, 373

Beethoven, L. von, 14, 245–6, 292 Ninth Symphony, 294–5 Opus 101, 269

Benard’s, _L’esthétique d’Aristote_, 142, 185, 187

Bergmann, J., _Ueber das Schöne_, 154

Boccaccio, 201

Bodkin Art Gallery (Moscow), 92

Booby Trap, 17, 18

Books for the people, 6

Brandes, Georges, 396, 444

Brevity, clearness and simplicity, 314, 320

Bryulov, K. P., “Art begins where the wee bit begins,” 247

Burke, Edmund: _The Sublime and Beautiful_, 146

_Büttnerbauer, Der_, by W. von Polenz, 18, 378–87

Byron, 201

Caine, Hall, _The Christian_, 384–5

Caricatures, 293

Cathedral of Victory, 284

_Cause of it All, The_, by Tolstoy, 7

Cervantes, _Don Quixote_, 290

Chamber music, 294

Chékhov, A. P., 18–19 _Darling_, 18, 388–92, 474–89.

Cherbuliez, C. V., 156

Children perverted in service of art, 298

Choir of peasant women, 268

Chopin, F. F., 269 _Nocturne in E flat major_, 292

Christianity, a turning point, 284

Christ, the teaching of, 308

Church music and ritual, 91

Classification (usually accepted) of writers is harmful, 386

Cloudy conceptions “usually presented with _aplomb_,” 137, 361

Coins that “resemble real money,” 234

Cold-drawn works of art, 238

Comte, Auguste, 450–1

Condemnation of new art unjust, 222

Conditions of production of art, 238 counterfeit art, 237–40 tragedy, 420

Cone of art, the, 228

_Confession_, Tolstoy’s, 8–12

Confusion of religious cult with religious perception, 280

Corruption of class nourished by false art, 192

Coster, G. H. de, 156

Counterfeits of art, how manufactured, 237–240 caused by: a) Professionalism ⎫ b) Art Criticism ⎬ 241–6 c) Schools of Art ⎭

Cousin, Victor, 154

Criticism, 382, 386–7 great importance of, 387

Critics, 242

Crosby, Ernest H., _Shakespeare on the Working Classes_, 393

Dancer, 248

Dante, 296

_Darling_, by A. P. Chekhov, 18, 388–92, 474–89.

Darwin, Charles, 169, 450–1 _Descent of Man_, 158

Darwin, Erasmus, 158

Dealers in the temple of art, 316

Decadent art, 233

Decadents, 207, 214, 217, 221–2, 228

Definition of art, 80–81, 171, 173, 362–3 needed, of art, 133 of any human activity, 166

Diamonds differ from paste, 267 selecting by touch, 455

Dickens, Charles, 7, 288, 310, 385 _Christmas Carol_, 7, 107 _David Copperfield_, 290 _Pickwick Papers_, 290

Diderot, D., 146

Dostoevski, F. M., 288–9, 310 _Memoirs from the House of Death_, 289

Doumic, René, _Les Jeunes_, 201, 206–7

Dragon, the, in _Siegfried_, 257–8

Drama, 219, 232, 247, 452–5 physiological effects in, 235

Dreyfus affair, 449–450

Druzhínin, A. V., 46

Durand-Ruel, art gallery, 218

Elementary Schools, 314–5

Eliot, George, 385 _Adam Bede_, 289

Emerson, Ralph Waldo, 385

Erections of lies obstruct study of life, 324

_Essays and Letters_, Tolstoy’s, 8

Essence of art: “that simple feeling compelling us to mingle souls with another,” 273

Esthetic theory, the, of indifference of art to good or evil, 456–7, 460

Euphuism, 203, 438

Exclusive art, 365

Fairy-tale, lullaby, riddle, jest, or sketch, 318

Falstaff, 431–2

Fashionable art depends on the slavery of the masses, 194

Feelings, the highest, 367 conveyed, quality of feelings, 107 simple, 362 three, the subject-matter of upper-class art, 200

Fichte, J. G., 148–9

_First Distiller, The_, by Tolstoy, 7

Folgeldt, on art, 165

Folk-art and children’s art, 7, 318

Food, 223–4, 369 for body and mind, 93 question, the, 166–7

Form of art, 364–5

Fourier, F. M. C., phalansteries, 450–1

Francis of Assisi, 181, 183

French drama, 454

Gárshin, V. M., 46

Gautier, Théophile, 204

Gay, N. N., _The Last Supper_, 17, 29–32 _What is Truth?_, 36–7 _Judgment_, 289

_Genesis_, “the epic of,” 224

George, Henry, 104

Gérôme, Leon, _Pollice Verso_, 290

Gervinus, Dr. G. G., 438–444

Gevaert, Fierens, _Essay sur l’art contemporain_, 157

Goethe, J. W., 296, 455, 458, 461 _Wilhelm Meister_, 165 _Faust_, 234

Goncharev, I. A., 199

“Good art pleases everyone,” 224

Gospel parables, 224, 226

Gourmont, Rémy de, _Les Chevaux de Diomède_, 202

Grant Allen, 169 _Physiological Æsthetics_, 159

Greeks, ancient, 184, 187, 279–80, 367 a small, semi-savage, slaveholding people, 188

Grot, Professor, 117, 118

Guyau, _Les Problèmes de l’esthétique contemporaine_, 136, 156

Habituation to bad art, 224, 366

Hallam, Henry, 395

Hamlet, 272, 394, 432–5, 444 lack of character, 432–4

Harsnet, Dr. Samuel, 409

Hartmann, Edward von, 153

Hauptmann, G., _Hanneles Himmelfahrt_, 235 _Die versunkene Glocke_, 220

Hauser, Kaspar, 174

Hazlitt, William, 395

Hebrew art, 280 prophets, 198, 203

Hegel, G. W. F., 150–1, 450–1

Heine, Heinrich, 201

Helmholz, H. von, 154

Hemsterhuis, Frans, 147

Herbart, J. F., 152

Herder, J. G. von, 144

Hero, with hat _à la Guillaume Tell_, 230, 257

Home, Henry (Lord Kames), 146

Homer, 102, 198, 438–9 _Iliad_ and _Odyssey_, 226 and Shakespeare, 438

_How to Read the Gospels_, 376

Hugo, Victor, 50, 310, 288, 396 _Les Misérables_, 50, 310, 396 _Les Pauvres Gens_, 288

Human life filled with art, 363

Humboldt, W., 148

Hungarian _csárdäs_, 269

Huret, Jules, 206

Hutcheson, Francis, _Inquiry into the Original of our Ideas of Beauty and Virtue_, 145

Huysmans, J. K., _Là-Bas_, 221

Hypnotic and epidemic suggestions, 263, 448–51, 453–9

Ibsen, Henrik: _The Master Builder_ and _Little Eyolf_, 219–220

Imitation art, methods of producing: a. Borrowing ⎫ b. Imitating ⎪ c. Action on nerves ⎬ 230–6, 261 d. Interesting ⎭

Important what feelings spread, 366–7

Impressionist and Neo-impressionist art, 218–9

Infectiousness of art, 364–8

Injurious effect of security and luxury on artist, 316

Internal test of art, 365

Japanese art, 365

Jest, riddle, fairy-tale, lullaby, or sketch, 318

Johnson, Dr. Samuel, 395

Joseph, the story of, 225, 290

Jouffroy, T. S., 154–5

Jungmann, J., 154

Kant, I., 145, 147–8

Karr, Alphonse, 220

Ker, W. P., _Essay on the Philosophy of Art_, 159

_King Lear_, 394 et seq.

_King Leir_, superior to Shakespeare’s _King Lear_, 424–429

Kipling, Rudyard, 221, 270, 385

Kirchmann, Julius von, 153–4

Knight, Wm., _Philosophy of the Beautiful_, 159–160, 185

Knight, R., _An Analytical Enquiry into the Principles of Taste_, 158

Kralik, R., _Weltschönheit_, 134–6, 140

Kramskoy, I. N., 289

Krause, K. C. F., 150

_Krasota_ (Russian word)--how used, 138

_Kreutzer Sonata_, 14–16

Labour, enormous, expended on art, 125 et seq.

La Bruyère, Jean de, 466

Lachelier, J., 155

Langley, W., 272, 289

Language of art understood by all, 225

La Rochefoucauld, F., Duc de, 466

Latin grammar, 299

Lear’s inappropriate talk with fool, 401 unnatural credulity and distrust, 399, 420 verbose absurdities, 405–6

Leopardi, J., 201

Lepage, Bastien, 310

Lérmontov, M. Yu., 384

Lessing, G. E., 144

Lévêque, C., 138, 140, 154–5

Lhermitte, Léon, 310

Life, understanding of, 176

Loss of capacity to be infected by art, 298

Lowell, J. R., 385

_Lucern_, by Tolstoy, 8

Lullaby, fairy-tale, riddle, jest, or sketch, 318

Lyric poetry, 251–2

_Macbeth_, 394

Maeterlinck, Maurice, 214 _Les Aveügles_, 220

Mallarmé, S., 205–6, 214–5 _Devagations_, 215

Malthus, T. R., 188

“Man sieht die Absicht und man wird verstimmt,” 422

Marcus Aurelius, 66

Marx, Karl, 188

Materialism, 109

Maupassant, Guy de, 17, 46–71, 290 _Bel-ami_, 52, 54, 55, 57, 59, 64 _Fort comme le mort_, 55–8 _Histoire d’une fille de ferme_, 48, 50 _Horla_, 67 _La Femme de Paul_, 48, 50 _La Maison Tellier_, 46 _La Petite Roque_, 66 _L’armoire_, 66 _Le champ d’oliviers_, 66 _Le papa de Simon_, 50 _L’ermite_, 66 _Miss Harriet_, 66 _Monsieur Parent_, 66 _Mont Oriol_, 54–5, 58 _Notre cœur_, 55–6, 58, 65 _Pierre et Jean_, 55, 58, 60 _Solitude_, 67 _Sur l’eau_, 50, 66 _Un cas de divorce_, 66 _Une vie_, 50–2, 54, 57, 64 _Une partie de campagne_, 48, 50 _Yvette_, 58–9, 65

Mayer, von Liesen, _Signing the Death Warrant_, 289

Melody, 291–2

Men seldom recognise truth that exposes falsity of their pet beliefs, 265

Mendelssohn, 144

Middle Ages, 86, 198

Millet, Jean Francois, 310 _The Man with a Hoe_, 289

Mithalter, Julius, _Rätsel des Schönen_, 137

Molière, 290

Montaigne, M. E. de, 466

Montesquieu, C. de S., Baron de la Brèda, et de, 466

Montesquiou-Fezensac, le comte Robert de, 207, 217, 350–2

Moralities (plays), 452

Morality regarded as “an antiquated affair,” 303

Morality and art, 364, 371–2

Morel, E., _Terre Promise_, 221

Morris, William, 94–6

Moscow, performance of _Siegfried_, 253–60

Mozart, W. A. C., 269, 292 _Magic Flute_, 250

Müller, Adam, 149

Muratori, L. A., 147

Music, 6, 13, 14–16, 17, 220, 232–3, 235–6, 245, 247–8, 291–2, 294–5

Musical art, qualifications needed to produce, 239

Muther, Richard, _The History of Art in the Nineteenth Century_, 165

Mysteries (plays), 452

Mysticism, 109

Mythological allusions, 203

Nadson, S. Ya., 385

Natasha Rostova (in _War and Peace_), 8

Negro melodies, 102

Nekrásov, N. A., 385

Nicholas Rostov, (in _War and Peace_), 8, 16

Nietzsche, F. W., 206, 303, 385, 451

Obscurity in art esteemed, 203–4

_On Art_, 75–90

“One touch of nature,” 362

Opera, rehearsal of an, 125–9 _Siegfried_, 253–60

Orators, 362, 370–1

Ornaments, 293

Ostróvski, A. N., 461 _Minin_, 244

_Othello_, 429–31 powerful movement of feeling in, 430

Pagano, F. M. S. A. C. P., 147

Painting, 232, 244, 292 and sculpture, qualifications necessary to produce, 239, 293

Paris exhibitions, 218

Parnassians, 205–6, 213

Pascal, Blaise, 40, 190, 466

Pastime for the idle crowd of rich, some art merely a, 366

Patti, Adelina, 302

Peasant art, 277 labourers, 105

Péladan, Joséphin, 157, 207

Perplexity of plain folk, 300

Peter of Chelczic, 183

Petersburg, 9

Pleasure of art, 82

_Pickwick Papers, The_, 435

Pictet, Adolph, 155

Pierre Louÿs, _Aphrodite_, 202

Pilate, Pontius, 36–7

Pilo, Mario, _La Psychologie du Beau et de l’Art_, 156–7

Pissarro, Camille, 218

Plato, 92, 141, 183–7 _The Republic_, 175, 307

Poems, qualifications needed to write, 238

Poetic, “means borrowed,” 234 subjects, 261

Polenz, W. von, _Der Büttnerbauer_, 18, 378 et seq.

Popularity, 103

Pózdnyshev (in _The Kreutzer Sonata_), 12–15

Predetermination (an author’s) evokes distrust, 259

Prévost, Marcel, 201

Printed matter a vast obstacle to enlightenment, 383 the necessity of, 73

Printing, 383

Purpose of art, the, 278

Pushkin, 301–2, 384, 461 _Tales_, 290, 384, 461 _Borís Godunóv_, 244 _Evgéni Onégin_, 244 _The Gipsies_, 244

Puvis de Chavannes, P. C., 218

Qualities, Three--of works of art a) Content ⎫ b) Beauty ⎬ 445–6 c) Sincerity ⎭

Ragnar Redbeard, 303

Raphael, 296

Ravaisson, F., _La Philosophie en France_, 155

Realism in art, 77–8, 234

Re-appraisement of knowledge needed, 330

Reformers’ objection to art, 91

Reid, Thomas, 157

_Religion and Morality_, by Tolstoy, 375

Religious art, 310

Religious perception, 108, 176–8, 197–200, 278, 281–5, 310, 317, 322, 367, 372, 374–5 lack of, 182 the consciousness of the brotherhood of man, 331

Renaissance, The, 182, 200, 282, 453, 460

Renan, Ernest, _Marc Aurèle_, 61, 62, 134 _L’Abbesse de Jouarre_, 62

_Resurrection_, by Tolstoy, 111

Riddle, fairy-tale, lullaby, jest, or sketch, 318

Rider Haggard, 385

Romanticists, 221

_Romeo and Juliet_, 394

Rossi, Ernesto, 272

Royal Academy of 1897, 271

Ruge, Arnold, 151

Ruskin, John, 94–5, 378

Russian poetry, 384

_St. Anthony, The Temptation of_, 271

Sand, George, 49, 450–1 _La petite Fadette_, 49 _La mère aux diables_, 49

Schasler, M., _Kritische Geschichte der Aesthetik_, 140–1, 186–7

Schelling, F. W. J., 149, 150

Schiller, J. C. F. von, 148, 169, 288, 295

Schlegel, F., 149

Schnaase, Karl, _Geschichte der bildenden Künste_, 153

Schopenhauer, A., 153, 246

Science, 30, 321–29 and art closely united, 322 for science’s sake, 324 inventions in natural, 324 of esthetics has failed, The, 361 purpose of real and pretended, 325–6

Sexual relations, 305

Shaftesbury, A. A. C., third Earl of, 145

Sketch, fairy-tale, lullaby, riddle, jest, 318

Shakespeare, William, 18, 19, 393–463 devoid of sense of proportion, 437 his apt use of gestures, 435 his characters are borrowed from earlier works, 424 do not accord with their period or place, 421 lack individuality of language, 422 talk as real people never could talk, 423 his delineation of character, 422 effect on the young of laudation of Shakespeare, 462–3 his exaggeration, 438 his fame: first cause of, 456 _King Lear_, 394–429, 436–7 Albany’s unnatural speech, 410 Edgar and Kent not recognized by people who knew them well, 406 Gloucester’s unnatural credulity, 400, 403, 412 his Kings, 399, 423 his masterly development of scenes, 455 movement of feeling powerfully expressed by, 435 not an artist, 438 his patriotism, 445 his practical mastery of stage-craft, 19 _Romeo and Juliet_, 165 “The end justifies the means,” 445 Thoughts arising from sound of words, 409

Shaw, Bernard, 17

Shelley, P. B., 395

“Sick send the hale to bed, the,” 227

Simple direct artistic impression, 455

Sincerity in Art, 84–5

Socrates, 141, 184, 186, 190

Solger, K. W. F., _Vorlesungen über Æsthetik_, 150

Spaletti, _Saggio sopra la bellessa_, 147

Spectrum Analysis of Milky Way, lecture on, 318

Speech, 170, 173–4, 224, 297

Spencer, Herbert, 158, 169

Spiritual Censor (Russian), 119

Spiritualists, 262

Stead, W. T., 7

Sténka Rázin, 304

Story of an Easter Cake, 270

Story or novel, qualifications needed to write, 238

Subject, and subject-matter, 369

Subject-matter of art, 364

Sue, Eugène, 450–1

Sully, James, _Sensation and Intuition_, 160, 169, 170

Sulzer, George, 144

“Supremacy of Artistic Element in Literature,” 4

Swinburne, A. C., 396

Symbolic pictures, 294

Symbolists, 207, 218, 219

Taglioni, Maria, 302

Taine, Henri, 156

Tasso, Torquato, _Jerusalem Delivered_, 296

Tatiana Lvóvna (Mme. Sukhotin), 218

“Tendencious art,” 77

Test of great philosophy, 369

Thackeray, W. M., 385

Three religions, 375

“To be or not to be,” 433

Todhunter, John, _Theory of the Beautiful_, 158–9

Tolstoy’s final conclusions on art, 377 fitness to deal with the problem, 97, 98, 373 lecture on literature, 4 view of life, 367

Tolstoy, Alexey, 385, 461 _Tsar Borís_, 244

Truth, 190

Turgénev, K. S., _The Quail_, 271 _A Sportsman’s Notebook_, 199

_Twenty-three Tales_, by Tolstoy, 7, 8

“Two live leaves cannot be exactly alike,” 251

Tyútchev, Th. I., 384

_Uncle Tom’s Cabin_, 288, 373

“Understand the error we are involved in,” 307

Understood by men less educated than our labourers, art was, 226, 365

Unintelligible art, 223

Union with men of the past and the future, through art, 287

Universal art, 106, 229, 310, 365

Vasnetsov, V. M., 271

Vauvenargues, Marquis de, 466

Vedas, hymns of the, 226

Verbal art, 232

Verlaine, Paul, 207, 210–4, 302, 336–7 _Ariettes oubliées_, 211, 212 _La Sagesse_, 212, 213

Veron, _L’esthétique_, 157, 169, 170

Versifiers, with broken tongues, 253

Villiers de l’Isle Adam, _Contes Cruels_, _L’Annonciateur_, 221

View of life, 9

View of life unconsciously permeating artistic work, 457

Vischer, Theodor, 152

Vogüé, C. J. M. Marquis de, 394

Vogul play, 272

Voltaire, F. M. A. de, 147, 227

Wagner, Richard, 206, 233, 250–64 “a limited self-opinionated German of bad taste,” 259 explanation of his success, 260–262 his great ability, 261 his “model work of counterfeit art,” 253

Walkley, A. B., 18

Walter, _Geschichte der Æsthetik im Altertum_, 142 on Plato, 187

_War and Peace_, 8, 16

Weisse, C. H., 151

Welfare lies in union, 309

_What is Art_, 1, 91–377 premature publication of in Paris, 3

_What Then Must We Do?_, 12

Whittier, J. G., 385

Wilde, Oscar, 303

Winckelmann, J. J., 144

Wolf, encounter with a, 172

Yakútsk ornaments, 293

Yásnaya Polyána, 4, 21

Yawning, 171

Zola, Émile, 270 _La Terre_, 49

Concerning the Proposed Centenary Edition of Tolstoy’s Works

In February 1922, Mr. Bernard Shaw addressed the following letter to the Press and it appeared in _The Times_, _Daily Telegraph_, _Manchester Guardian_ and many other papers, receiving, then and subsequently, the endorsement of the numerous distinguished people, here and in America, whose signatures are appended.

10 ADELPHI TERRACE, W.C.2. _28 February 1922._ SIR,

We desire to call public attention, especially in circles interested in literature and in general cultural questions, to the lack of a complete edition of the works of Leo Tolstoy in the English language. Unfortunately the means adopted by Tolstoy to secure the widest possible circulation for his books had just the opposite effect. He invited all publishers in all countries to take the fullest advantage of the absence of international copyright between Russia and other countries by publishing his writings in such translations as they could procure without any reference to his moral or legal rights. In the case of any less famous author this step would have prevented his works being translated at all, as it is practically impossible to engage modern capital in publishing, or any other enterprise, without property rights. In Tolstoy’s case it led to the appearance of a great number of translations, including some very incompetent ones, of a few of his books which were considered specially interesting as stories, or were capable of being turned to account for propaganda. These few books have consequently become more or less well known; but the profits of their publication have been so divided that they have in no instance been able to carry a complete edition on their backs. Accordingly, no complete edition has yet appeared; and the one projected for the Tolstoy Centenary of 1928 by the Oxford University Press, translated by Aylmer Maude, whose competence and acceptance by Tolstoy himself are unquestionable, may prove commercially impossible unless the public, by spontaneously giving it the privileges of a copyright edition, both by subscribing for complete sets and specifying this edition in their purchases of separate volumes, makes up for the absence of legal rights and for the miscarriage of Tolstoy’s public-spirited intention in the matter.

The Oxford Press translation will be complete and unique, and certain to remain so, as it is not now possible for any new English writer to bring to a translation of Tolstoy’s works the personal knowledge of the author, and the peculiar experience of Russian life and of the Tolstoyan social experiments that followed the first publication of his writings, enjoyed by Mr. Aylmer Maude and his wife and collaborator, who is a native of Russia. We feel that its failure to appear would be a grave loss to our national literary equipment; and we earnestly hope that the opportunity of completing the nineteenth-century bookshelf both of our public and private libraries by a complete edition of his works in English will not be missed.

Yours truly, G. BERNARD SHAW.

LIST OF SIGNATORIES TO SHAW’S LETTER.

Henry Ainley (Fedya of _Reparation_) Meggie Albanesi (Alexandra of _Reparation_) Rev. Cyril Alington, D.D., Head Master of Eton William Archer Lena Ashwell (Katusha of _Resurrection_) J. F. Baddeley John Bailey Hon. Maurice Baring, O.B.E. Dr. Ernest Barker, Principal, King’s College Sir Alfred Bateman, K.C.M.G. H. Wansey Bayly, M.R.C.S. Ian Hay Beith, C.B.E. Marie Belloc-Lowndes Arnold Bennett J. D. Beresford Rt. Hon. Sir Geo. W. Buchanan, P.C., G.C.B., C.V.O., formerly Ambassador, Petrograd Rt. Hon. Lord Carnock, P.C., G.C.B., K.C.V.O., formerly Ambassador, Petrograd Sir Hall Caine, K.B.E. Edward Carpenter Clementine S. Churchill (Mrs. Winston Churchill) A. Clutton Brock, B.A. W. L. Courtney, L.L.D., Editor of _Fortnightly Review_ A. Emil Davies, L.C.C. H. Walford Davies, F.R.C.O. Brig.-Gen. Guy Payan Dawnay, C.M.G., M.V.O., D.S.O. James Douglas, Editor of _Sunday Express_ J. D. Duff, Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, LL.D. Havelock Ellis, L.S.H. Nevill Forbes, Ph.D., Reader in Russian, Oxford J. L. Garvin, Editor of _Observer_ G. P. Gooch, D.Litt. L. Haden Guest, M.R.C.S., M.P. Cicely Hamilton Austin Harrison Sir Anthony Hope Hawkins John H. Hobson, M.A. Silas K. Hocking E. A. Brayley Hodgetts, Chairman of Russian Section, London Chamber of Commerce Sonia E. Howe, Authoress of _A Thousand Years of Russian History_ W. W. Jacobs Edgar Jepson, B.A. Jerome K. Jerome Henry Arthur Jones Commander Oliver Locker-Lampson, C.M.G., D.S.O., M.P. Sir Oliver Lodge, F.R.S., D.Sc. Lady Constance Lytton Sir Lynden Macassey Justin Huntly McCarthy Miles Malleson Hugh Macnaughten, Vice-Provost of Eton W. Somerset Maugham, M.R.C.S. Dorothy Massingham H. W. Massingham Cyril Maude W. B. Maxwell P. E. Meadon Baron A. Meyendorff Eustace Miles, M.A. Gilbert Murray, D.Litt., Regius Professor, Oxford Cathleen Nesbitt Henry W. Nevinson Sir Sidney Olivier Sir Bernard Pares, K.C.B., Professor of Russian History, University of London Rt. Hon. Sir Gilbert Parker, P.C., D.S.L. Geo. Paston Edw. R. Pease John Pollock, M.A. H. Hesketh Prichard, D.S.O. Sir Henry Penson, K.B.E. Arthur Rackham Rt. Hon. Lady Rhondda Rt. Hon. G. H. Roberts, J.P. Sir E. Denison Ross, Ph.D. Hon. Bertrand Russell, F.R.S. St. John Ervine May Sinclair Rt. Hon. Lady Sybil Smith A. B. Stodart, Hon. Sec. British Russia Club Marie C. Stopes, D.Sc., Ph.D. Lord Treowen, C.M.G. Mrs. Alec-Tweedie, F.R.G.S. Leslie Urquhart Sir Paul Vinogradoff, Professor of Jurisprudence, Oxford Graham Wallas A. B. Walkley, F.R.S.L., Dramatic Critic of _The Times_ Hugh Walpole Lt.-Col. John Ward, C.B., M.P. Rt. Hon. Lord Weardale H. G. Wells Rebecca West Rt. Hon. J. H. Whitley, P.C. Norman Wilks Harold Williams C. Hagberg Wright, LL.D., Librarian, London Library

AMERICAN

Jane Addams James Lane Allen Sherwood Anderson James Branch Cabell George W. Cable Theodore Dreiser Horace Howard Furness Hamlin Garland Ellen Glasgow Robert Underwood Johnson Robert Morse Lovett Edwin Markham H. L. Mencken Harriet Monroe Eugene O’Neill William Lyon Phelps Chas. Ed. Russell Booth Tarkington Lucy E. Textor Hon. Henry Vandyck Owen Wister

Beside those who have signed Shaw’s letter, Thomas Hardy wrote:--

‘Although I have no first-hand knowledge of the details mentioned in Mr. Bernard Shaw’s letter on translations of Tolstoy, I agree with the opinion that a good rendering of his works into English--so far as that is possible--should be made practicable by the concentration of effort on one production; and I believe that Mr. Aylmer Maude’s competence for the task is special and trustworthy.’

Sir Edmund Gosse wrote to Mr. Aylmer Maude:--

‘I wish to express my appreciation of your admirable labours and those of Mrs. Maude.’

Mr. Joseph Hergesheimer wrote:--

‘I fully agree with contents of the letter.’

Professor Gilbert Murray wrote:--

‘I am in the most cordial agreement with Shaw’s letter and will most gladly sign it. It is a great public service that you and the Oxford Press between you are undertaking. The wonder to me has always been how Tolstoy contrived to make such a tremendous and characteristic impression through such an opaque and distorting medium as the average Anglo-American translation.’

* * * * *

A score of letters containing Tolstoy’s very emphatic authorization and endorsement of the Maude versions of his work (such as he gave to no other translator) have been deposited with the Oxford University Press. These expressions of approval begin in 1897, when Mr. Maude translated _What is Art_, and were continued till 1910, the year of Tolstoy’s death. The following are a few extracts from these letters of Tolstoy’s:

5 Sept. 1897. ‘I have written to Tchertkoff asking him to leave it to you to do the translation. That will give me more satisfaction.’

18 Oct. 1897. ‘You have filled in correctly the word omitted on p. 31. In general I see that you are doing the translation with great care, for which I am very grateful. I am almost certain I shall be in accord with all your comments, but still send them to me. I, too, will examine them carefully.’

Nov. 1897. ‘I will begin to reply in sequence to your admirable remarks, which are of great use to the undertaking.... With all the rest of your remarks I quite agree, and prompted by them I have made alterations in my (Russian) text. Please make more such.’

Dec. 1897. ‘I yesterday received both your letters, dear friend, and hasten to answer them. I also received the translation. I have gone through it and have not found anything that held me up, except the words “admirable book of Verm” (p. 22). It should be “very good” and not “admirable”. The translation seems to me to be very good.’

Dec. 1898. ‘I have received your letter, dear friend Maude, and am very glad that you are again in England and wish to work at translating my writings. I do not desire a better translator, both on account of your knowledge of the two languages and of your strictness with yourself in everything.’

Jan. 1899. ‘I am very glad that your dear wife is doing the translation of _Resurrection_.’

May 1900. ‘Your translations are very good because you have an admirable mastery of both the languages, and besides that, to my great pleasure, you love the thoughts you transmit.’

Sept. 1900. ‘To lose such translators as you and your wife would be very, very unpleasant. Better translators, both in your knowledge of both languages and in your penetration into the very meaning of the matter translated, could not be invented.’

Feb. 1901. ‘I think that your and your wife’s splendid translation of what has previously been published and badly translated should find a publisher.’

Nov. 1901. (From a letter written by the Countess Olga Tolstoy.) ‘I am writing instead of Leo Nikolaevich, who sends many excuses for not having sooner replied to your two letters, and about the fine book, _Sevastopol_, you have sent. All this time Leo Nikolaevich has been very unwell.... He asks me to convey to you his great gratitude for the letters and for _Sevastopol_. He finds both the translation and the edition excellent, and that one could not desire anything better.’

23 Dec. 1901. ‘I think I have already written you how unusually pleased I was with the first volume of your edition. All is excellent--the edition, the notes, and chiefly the translation, and even more the conscientiousness with which all this has been done. I opened it accidentally at the _Two Hussars_ and read on to the end just as if it were something new and had been written in English.’

6 Oct. 1903. _A common friend in replying to an inquiry Mr. Maude made concerning his re-translation of a work, the previously published (Free Age Press) edition of which appeared faulty._ ‘L. N. (Tolstoy) asks me to reply to your inquiry about the exactness of your translation of _What is Religion?_ that your translation expresses his meaning more exactly, and he is quite satisfied.’

11 Dec. 1903. ‘Thank your kind friend Maude for sending me the volume of _Essays and Letters_ (World’s Classics series). The edition is very good.’

1 Aug. 1909. ‘I am always glad to hear news of you and of your occupation, so closely connected with me, on excellent translations of my writings. Your loving Leo Tolstoy.’

18 Jan. 1910. ‘I am better now and add a line to say a few words, namely that the edition of your translations of my writings can only give me pleasure, because your translations are very good and I do not desire better ones.... My approval of your translations in my letters, you can, of course, publish.’

* * * * *

The Tolstoy Centenary occurs in 1928, and the form the projected complete Maude-Tolstoy Centenary Edition may take has not yet been decided, but the material for it is being prepared and a pocket edition of as much of it as is quite ready is appearing in the World’s Classics series, which already contains the following twelve volumes.

THE ‘MAUDE’ TOLSTOY

THE ‘WORLD’S CLASSICS’ SERIES

Pocket size, 6 by 4 inches. On thin opaque paper. Cloth, 2s. net; sultan-red leather, 3s. 6d. net.

=The Cossacks= _and_ =Tales of the Caucasus.=

Including: _The Raid_, _The Wood-Felling_ and _Meeting a Moscow Acquaintance in the Detachment_.

‘The best story that has been written in our language.’--_Turgenev._

=War and Peace= (3 vols.).

‘We feel that we were ourselves there; that we knew those people; that they are a part of our very own past.’--_Maurice Baring._

‘It is among the greatest works ever made by man, and the country is under a debt to Louise and Aylmer Maude for rendering it into English.’--_New Labour Leader._

=Anna Karénina= (2 vols.).

‘Anna Karénina as an artistic production is perfection ... a thing to which European literature of our epoch offers no equal.’--_Dostoevski._

=Confession _and_ What I Believe= (1 vol.).

One of the sincerest and most remarkable confessions in all literature.

=Twenty-Three Tales.=

Containing: _God Sees the Truth_, _A Prisoner in the Caucasus_, _What Men Live By_, _Two Old Men_, _Where God is Love is_, _Ivan the Fool_, _The Three Hermits_, _The Imp and the Crust_, _How Much Land does a Man Need?_ _The Empty Drum_, _Too Dear_, etc.

‘I regard them as the most perfect tales ever written.’--_Carmen Sylva, Queen of Roumania._

=The Kreutzer Sonata, Family Happiness, _and_ Polikushka= (1 vol.).

The first full translation, giving the passages suppressed by the censor. It is the most powerful and the most widely discussed of Tolstoy’s shorter novels.

=Plays.=

A complete edition (including the posthumous plays): _The First Distiller_, _The Power of Darkness_, _The Fruits of Enlightenment_, _The Live Corpse_, _The Cause of it All_, _The Light Shines in Darkness_.

‘Nothing in the whole range of drama fascinated me more than the old soldier in _The Power of Darkness_.’--_Bernard Shaw._

=Essays and Letters.=

Including: _Why Do Men Stupefy Themselves? Afterword to the Kreutzer Sonata_, _The First Step_, _Non-Acting_, _Religion and Morality_, _Shame!_, _Letters to Verigin_, _Non-Resistance_, _How to Read the Gospels_, _Letters on Henry George_, _Modern Science_, _Patriotism and Government_, ‘_Thou Shalt Not Kill_’, _Reply to Synod’s Excommunication_, _What is Religion? An Appeal to the Clergy_, and fifteen other articles.

‘Gives an excellent idea of the vast range of Tolstoy’s intellectual activities.’--_Daily News._

=Resurrection.=

‘Undoubtedly the most important novel that has appeared in Europe for many years.’--_Edward Garnett._

_Ready Shortly._

=What then must we do?=

Tolstoy’s remarkable study of social conditions.

_Other Volumes in Preparation_

* * * * *

WHAT IS ART?

(Now included in the volume, _Tolstoy on Art_.)

‘This book is a most effective booby trap. It is written with so utter a contempt for the objections which a routine critic is sure to allege against it, that many a dilettantist reviewer has already accepted it as a butt set up by Providence.... Whoever is really conversant with Art, recognizes in it the voice of the master.’--_G. Bernard Shaw_ in _The Daily Chronicle_.

‘This calmly and cogently reasoned effort to put Art on a new basis is a literary event of the first importance.... I have never come across anything so good in its way as Mr. Maude’s version of Tolstoy. The translation reads like an original: you feel that Tolstoy has lost nothing in transit. And what a wonderful artist in prose this Tolstoy is! How vigorous and succinct! How persuasive!’--_A. B. Walkley._

‘Tolstoy’s book is the most important essay in pure criticism of recent years, and it is destined to become a classic.’--_Star._

‘The powerful personality of the author, the startling originality of his views, grips the reader, and carry him, though his deepest convictions be outraged, protesting through the book.’--_Pall Mall Gazette._

‘Mr. Aylmer Maude’s translation is admirable--a better piece of work has rarely been performed; and Mrs. Maude’s English renderings of the French poems, whether as to meaning, spirit or rhythm, are so felicitous that they amount to a _tour de force_.’--_M. H. Spielmann_ in _Literature_.

Oxford University Press, Amen House, London, E.C.4.

THE LIFE OF TOLSTOY.

=First Fifty Years.= By AYLMER MAUDE. Seventh Edition. 8 Illustrations. Demy 8vo. 12s. 6d. net.

‘Will stand, I think, among the big biographies of our literature.’--_G. Bernard Shaw._

‘The book is no sooner opened than it begins to exercise a sort of charm from which it is impossible to escape.’--_Westminster Gazette._

(The Second Volume: LATER YEARS is out of print, and will be revised.)

THE ‘MAUDE’ TOLSTOY.

=Resurrection.= With 14 Illustrations by Pasternak. 7s. 6d. net.

‘A special word of praise must be given to the illustrations. They illustrate the author with a sympathy and an insight which Tolstoy has never before enjoyed.’--_Glasgow Herald._

=Plays.= (Complete Edition. Six Plays.) 7 Illustrations. 7s. 6d. net.

‘A vivid picture of life, full of light and colour and contrast; full, too, of wisdom and the wit that knows just where to hold its hand.’--_The Times_ on ‘Fruits of Culture.’

=Sevastopol and Other Stories= (including TWO HUSSARS, etc.). Photogravure Portrait and Map. 1s. 6d. net.

‘In these thrilling “Letters from the Front” Tolstoy realizes war ... as no other writer has ever done before or since.’--_Contemporary Review._

Constable and Co., 10 Orange Street, W.C.2.

* * * * *

=Leo Tolstoy.= By AYLMER MAUDE. 8vo. 7 Illustrations. 6s. net.

A complete biography, with an account of Tolstoy’s home-leaving and death, and an explanation of what led to it.

‘Mr. Maude is our best English authority on Tolstoy, not alone because he knew Tolstoy intimately, but because, whilst admiring and loving him for his genius and his sincerity, he judges calmly, and is not carried away by hero-worship.’--_Yorkshire Post._

Methuen and Co., 36 Essex Street, London, W.C.2.

* * * * *

=The Life of Marie C. Stopes.= By AYLMER MAUDE. With 14 Illustrations. 5s. net.

An authorized biography giving, for the first time, the story of her childhood, academic life, marriage, writings, opponents and inner life.

Williams and Norgate, 14 Henrietta Street, W.C.2.

Transcriber’s Note:

Words and phrases in italics are surrounded by underscores, _like this_. Those in bold are surrounded by equal signs, =like this=. Words may have multiple spelling variations or inconsistent hyphenation in the text. These have been left unchanged, as were obsolete and alternative spellings. Obvious printing errors, such as backwards, upside down, or partially printed letters and punctuation, were corrected. Final stops missing at the end of sentences and abbreviations were added. One excess semi-colon was deleted.

Use of accents on Russian names is inconsistent. Diacriticals in French were corrected.

In the index, surnames were added to ‘Darwin, Erasmus’ and ‘Knight, R.’ Accents missing on words and names in the index were adjusted to agree with related text.

Footnotes were renumbered sequentially and were moved to the end of the book. There are four anchors for footnote [2].

The following were changed:

‘hynotist’ to ‘hypnotist’ ‘divisons’ to ‘divisions’ ‘auszudrückendem’ to ‘auszudrückenden’ ‘Wohlegefallen’ to ‘Wohlgefallen’ ‘Asthetisches’ to ‘Aesthetisches’ ‘-ziet’ to ‘-zeit’ (several instances) ‘Kunsc’ to ‘Kunst’ ‘letztgenamten’ to ‘letztgenannten’ ‘einer’ to ‘einem’ ‘benfit’ to ‘benefit’ ‘Rémy de Gourment’ to ‘Remy de Gourmont’ ‘Le soir’ to ‘Le sais’ ‘Himmelfaht’ to ‘Himmelfahrt’ ‘Byulóv’ to ‘Bryulóv’ ‘staking’ to ‘shaking’ ‘abnominably’ to ‘abominably’ ‘infectuous’ to ‘infectious’ ‘Lontainement’ to ‘Lointainement’ ‘Hagan’ to ‘Hagen’ (twice) ‘indued’ to ‘imbued’ ‘enlightment’ to ‘enlightenment’ ‘transcendant’ to ‘transcendent’ ‘make’ to ‘makes’ ‘maligant’ to ‘malignant” ‘Schonheit’s’ to ‘Schönheit’s’ ‘thatfräftigen’ to ‘thatkräftigen’ ‘Trojons’ to ‘Trojans’ ‘Shakepeare’ to ‘Shakespeare’ ‘Turgéney’ to ‘Turgénev’ ‘accidently’ to ‘accidentally’ ‘irrefragible’ to ‘irrefragable’ ‘unbashed’ to ‘unabashed’ ‘Sanscrit’ to ‘Sanskrit’ ‘Pissaro’ to ‘Pissarro’ ‘Tyúchev’ to ‘Tyútchev’ ‘Geschicht’ to ‘Geschichte’ ‘Olgo’ to ‘Olga’