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Kutúzof, and too low an estimate on Napoleon. What
is emphasized in Napoleon is the violence and the
foolish arrogance which unconsciously stand before a fall;
what we lack the impression of is of the force of his
genius. In Kutúzof, even inaction, nay, imbecility, is
extolled as the expression of a profound knowledge to
what extent matters go as they will or rather as they
must, without the interference of any single man having
any special effect one way or the other.
This partiality, however, depends entirely on Tolstoï’s
peculiar views of life. Without the nervousness or
exaltation of Dostoyevski, he is just as far as the latter
from having a reverence for human intelligence and for
political or scientific greatness.
In Germany authors believe in reason and culture, in
England on the independent power of the individual,
in France on abilities, in the North on morality; Tolstoï,
as Russians so frequently are, is impressed with the
insignificance of the single man in the presence of the
universe. He cherishes a reverence for the universe
and for fate, but has none for science, art, or culture.
In his view nothing depends on science or art. No,
life and death are two great, earnest, inscrutable things.
The great sermon which life and death daily preach into
the ear of the author stifles the noise of the whole earth
for him. The understanding of man seems to him so
weak in the face of the enigma of life that the simplest
intelligence here is no better than the highest.
And the will of man is to be counted as nothing in
regard to the irresistible stream of historic events. It is
not the leader of the army who in reality leads the army;
fate drives it on; the battle is won or lost without his
intervention, by the play of the secret impelling power.
A scene typical of Tolstoï is that where the wounded
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