THE HESPERIAN.
ss
borne in mind that the render is being let into the secret of
the author's personal experience, because the knowledge of
this fact will throw about the characters a halo of interest
by which otherwise they could not possibly be surrounded
One docs not care to pass all of the time he devotes to the
reading of a novel in becoming acquainted with a character
which he knows has never existed, and which.morcovcr, can
not be a type of real beings. But if the reader is aware that
his author is telling him indirectly of his own experience, and
if that experience is thrilling enough to enter the sphere of
romance, the story becomes one of absorbing interest, and it I
makes no difference then whether or no he be separated from
us by oceans; he becomes in our eyes a person who has been
singularly favored by Forune in being permitted to pass
through scenes of such startling character and power.
While among the Cossacks,during the long days of enforced
inactivity, the Count wrote his first great work, "The Cos
sacks," a book which in originality of design and strength of
characters has but few equals. Its plot is simple, the chief
interest centering in the character of a young man who the
author meant should represent himself in the principal traits
of his character. Olenin had been steeped in the dissipa
tions of the Russian capital, until the reaction had set in, and
he resolved to abandon everything pertaining to his old life,
and seek contentment in the free life of the plains. Reach
ing a border village where he intended to take up his abode,
he here falls in love with a village maiden who, howcvcr,does
not return his attachment. The man whose accomplishments
had fascinated the court belles utterly failed to impress the
untutored child of the plains, who, in her lofty scorn for the
sham elegance of society, saw in this young man only one of
its slaves. Fortunately for the originality of the story, as it
seems to me, this girl plays a somewhat unimportant part in
the working out of the plot; the different phases of Olcnin's
character developing as he becomes habituated with his new
surroundings, forming the chief interest to the reader.
Now that which seemed tome to distinguish this book from
most works of fiction is its entire freedom from any of the
plots and counterplots, the hackneyed phrases, love passages,
ball room scenes, intrigues, and a host of other characteristics
which have become so familiar to us as to be simply disgust
ing. In this book there is nothing of all this; every thing is
pure, fresh and new. In reading, one feels a sense of purity,
contentment and ease which, I am sorry to say, Is not always
found in the works of our own writers. Passing from one of
the latter kind of books to the one referred to is like coming
out of a laundry into the open air. "The Cossacks" opens
up to one possibilities of life which he will find no where else
and beguiles him into a feeling of tranquility which, alas! is
only too fleeting.
Now I do not mean to find fault with the ordinary style of
novels; it would ill become me to do so. The authors of
these works are not to blame. They arc bound by circum
stances and restrictions from which Tolstoi was free. They
must write about life as they find it if they wish to secure in
terest in their works. They must, in other words, write of
scenes, characters and events which to a certain extent are fa
miliar to their readers, otherwise they will fail to reap any
benefit from their efforts. But there is another and more po
tent reason for this fact, and that is the question of stern ne
cessity. How, let me ask, can a writer be expected' to pro
duce the best of which he is capable of which he knows he
is capable if he must keep constantly in view the considera
tion of the monetary success of his work? True, Shakespere
did it; but there was but one Shakespere, and the fexception
only proves the xule.
With Tolstoi all was different. Possessed of unlimited re
sources, he had only to follow his own inclinationF,hc could
write with no thought as to whether his works would bring
him pecuniary profit. Hence it can easily be seen that being
obliged to cater to no public taste, and having no fear of
failure, he could take down his impressions of life as it pleased
him. For that very reason he achieved success.
I pass over "War and Peace," in which, although it is re
garded as one of Tolstoi's masterpieces, I could not get inter
cstcd. Why this was I am unable to say; perhaps the con
trast bctu ccn this book and the first-mentioned is too pro
nounced to be altogether plcasant.cspccially as the latter was
capable of exciting so much interest as it did.
In "Anna Karcnina" Tolstoi has depicted the drama of
life as he saw it with wonderful even startlyig truthfulness
In this book, as perhaps nowhere else in his writings, he has
exhibited his own character in two persons, each represent
ing one period of his vxricd life. The character of Vronsky
exhibits Tolstoi in his early manhood, surrounded by wealth,
luxury and gaiety; his views of life formed and influenced by
the usages of that brilliant society in which he moved, believ
ing in the all-powerful principle of strength and personal glo
ry as the road to happiness. In Konstantin Levin we sec
him with his whole character changed and his views modifi
ed. Like Levin, he has come to sec how poor, forlorn and il.
lusory arc the successes upon which he formerly doted, and
now he is rapidly approaching that conception of the real du
ties of his existence which he afterwards held and now main
tains. Of what I suppose is considered the principle interest
of the romance, namely, the relations between Vronsky and
Anna Karcnina, I do not wish to speak. The subject is too
terrible, too awful in its final tragedy, to read, much less to
discuss. The manner in which Tolstoi aualyzes the various
and conflicting emotions felt by the unfortunate pair, the re
lentless way in which he leads up to the inevitable outcome of
their guilty union, is truly startling. M. Dupuy in his analy
sis of this work, thinks that the suicide of Anna Karc
nina, Tolstoi felt to be the necessary and inevitable result of
her actions, because it coincided with his conception of the
duties of marriage which he at that time held. This I am
unable to see. Surely there existed some solution of the diff
iculty which would not have brought in its train all the hor
ror, the sad. disheartening circumstauces which Tolstoi deem
ed necessary. Perhaps this illustrates an actual fact or set of
facts. If so, rather let it be compassionately kept out of sight
than be put forward to shame and sadden the hearts of those,
who in reading of these events, cannot but wonder, and de
plore the existence of such happiness arising from sin.
BERBEL THORWALDShtf.
Perhaps no artist has attained more renown in his own
timp than Thorwaldsen. Born of obscure parents 5n Copen
hagen, his high position was gained only through his own ex
ertions. He received a good elementary education, anu as
h shmvrA a fondness for drawinc.he was sent in his eleventh
year to the Academy of Fine Arts at Copenhagen as an even
ing pupilt where he made such progress that at sixteen he won
the highest prize given to beginners, Still his progress was
hindered by the necessity of helping his father in wood carv
ing. But with diligence he would accomplish his tasks and
devote all his spare time to his art studies. He and a number
of his fellow students would meet evenings and, having chos
en a sbuject usually a verse from the Bible each would
make his sketch and then they would compare and criticise
each other's productions. He said that he learned as much
I by observation as by practice, .
at
I
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