ABSTRACT
T olstoy'S character being; such as it was, it was inevitable that long before his philosophy was fully developed, he wanted to put his new ideas into practice in their most radical form. Whereas Ruskin, with engaging charm, could remark to a group of sympathizers in his Oxford rooms: "Here I am trying to reform the world, and I suppose I ought to begin with myself. I am trying to do St. Benedict's work, and I ought to be a saint. And yet I am living between a Turkey carpet and a Titian, and drinking as much tea as I can swig," Tolstoy, whose earnestness was often lit with the same self-mockery, with regard to his ideals, could only be passionately serious. If, in argument, it was urged that Christ had preached complete self-renunciation only for those who wished to be perfect, then he would answer with candid sincerity, just as he might have answered in a mood dominated by deep religious feeling as a boy: "But I wish to be perfect." At last his being was wholly subservient to the altruist, the philosopher, the lover of mankind and the lover of God.
