Leo Tolstoy: His Life and Work. Paul Birukoff
Conscious of my inability, it is with diffidence and hesitation that I approach this work, sacred in my eyes--the life-story of my teacher, the aged prophet, Leo Tolstoy.
Only a few years ago I was so far from dreaming of this undertaking that, while living much of my time in close proximity to Tolstoy, and often staying in his house for hours or even whole days, it never entered into my mind to make any note or record of what I heard from Tolstoy himself or from those about him. Now, an exile for my religious opinions, living far from my country and far from Tolstoy, I have set myself to accomplish this important task.
I was first encouraged to do it by the French publisher Stock, who, when taking in hand a complete publication of Tolstoy's works in French, asked me if I would revise the Russian texts and write a biography of the author.
I knew very well that it was impossible to write the biography of a man still living without the consent of himself and his family, so, before accepting Stock's offer, I wrote to Countess Tolstoy, asking if she had any objection to my undertaking the biography of her husband. I received from her a kind and encouraging reply, from which I will quote a few lines:
" … Of course you ought to write the biography, and Lev Nikolayevich could answer many of your questions, only you must not delay. The life so precious to us all was on the point of passing away. But now Lev Nikolayevich is progressing favorably and is again at work."
This letter bears the date July 19, 1901, and was written directly after Tolstoy's severe illness.
On receipt of this letter I did not trouble Tolstoy himself, being convinced beforehand that he would not stand in my way; I accepted Stock's offer and set to work.
When I began to look into my materials and to consider the nature and the plan of the work I was undertaking, I grew alarmed on the one hand at its magnitude, while on the other I felt more and more fascinated by it, and, carried away as I was with the subject, I became so much engrossed with it that at the present moment I look upon it as my life's work, and heed no considerations which are offered from a publisher's point of view.
Some preliminary labor had to be spent in the collection of materials. These I divide into four categories, according to their importance and value.
In the first category I place Tolstoy's own autobiographical notes, as well as his letters and diaries. Such notes can be turned to much better account in the lifetime of the author, for the reason that any discrepancies between them and information derived from other sources can be explained by the author himself.
In the second category I place reminiscences and notices generally of Tolstoy by those who knew him personally, such as relations, friends, and acquaintances who had immediate intercourse with him. It may also include various kinds of official documents, such as certificates of birth, documents of the educational authorities, official records of State service, copies from judicial and administrative documents, and so on.
The third category includes notices of Tolstoy from outside sources, as well as works of his own in which real facts are intermingled with fiction by the play of the artistic imagination. But these, when looked at from a biographer's point of view, must be treated with great caution.
Lastly, the fourth category consists of sundry short articles, not to speak of whole books, which, though badly or clumsily written, or coming from authors who are not wholly trustworthy, yet have a certain comparative value where there is a gap left by other works. These I do not consider it necessary to enumerate.
Foreign literature gives us very few facts, especially in relation to the first period of Tolstoy's life. For this reason I do not make a separate list of foreign works, but include them in the general catalogue.
At the end of this Introduction is appended a list of all the written materials I have used.
After my first few steps in the examination of the collected materials, I found it necessary to seek personal intercourse with Tolstoy, as he alone could explain a number of obscure points by which I was puzzled. For a long while I hesitated, wondering whether it was right to trouble him, but at last I made up my mind to write to him and say that I had resolved to approach him with a few questions. Being aware that he permitted artists to take his portrait or make busts of him and amateur photographers to take his likeness, though all this gave him no pleasure, I requested him to sit for me too, as I wished to make a picture of him in words. To this he returned his kind consent in the following terms in a letter of December 2, 1901:
" … I shall be very glad to give you a sitting and will categorically answer your questions."
My friend V. Chertkov rendered me an important service by consenting to lay open for my work his rich archive of Tolstoy's private correspondence and of extracts from his diaries.
One great drawback to my labor was the fact that through a senseless administrative order [See P.S. to this Introduction], I was exiled from Russia, and have thus been deprived of an opportunity of consulting the man whose life I was writing, as well as prevented from working in Russian public libraries and archives, a circumstance which greatly hindered my work so far as dependent on the use of extracts from old periodicals, although, owing to the kindness of some owners of private Russian libraries and to the literary wealth of the Russian Department of the British Museum, this obstacle has been to some extent overcome. I have done my best in accordance with conscience and reason to meet these difficulties; I even petitioned the Minister of Interior to be allowed to visit Russia for two months, but I received a distinct refusal. I therefore cannot look upon my task as complete.
As to the first volume, which I am now publishing, I may state that the readers will find there something perfectly new--I mean Tolstoy's memories of his childhood, and of his relations, as well as a great many of his private letters.
In order to illustrate for the reader the difficulty which Tolstoy had in writing his Reminiscences, as well as the way in which to treat them, I will quote a few extracts from our correspondence upon the subject.
I had written several times to Tolstoy and also to his intimate friends begging the latter to write down anything that, during quiet evening conversations, they might hear from him about his childhood.
At last I received the following communication from Tolstoy:
" … At first I thought that I should not be able to help you with my biography, notwithstanding all my desire to do so. I was afraid of the insincerity incidental to every autobiography, but now I seem to have found a form in which I can meet your wish by pointing out the distinguishing features of the consecutive periods of my life, in childhood, youth, and manhood. As soon as I find it possible, I will devote some hours to this work, and will endeavor to carry it out."
In one of his subsequent letters he writes:
" … I am afraid that it was in vain I gave you hopes by my promise to write my Reminiscences. I have tried to think about it, and I saw what a dreadful difficulty it is to avoid the Charybdis of self-praise (by keeping silence about all that is bad) and the Scylla of cynical frankness about all the abomination of one's life. Were a man to describe all his odiousness, stupidity, viciousness, vileness--quite truthfully, even more truthfully than Rousseau--it would be a seductive book or article. People would say: `Here is a man whom many place high, but look what a scoundrel he was; if so, then for us ordinary folk it is all the more admissible.'
"Seriously, when I began to recall vividly to my mind all my life and saw all its stupidity (sheer stupidity) and abomination, I thought, `What then are other men if I, praised by many, am such a stupid worm?' And yet this could be explained by the fact that I am more cunning than others. I tell you all this not for the sake of verbal display, but quite sincerely.