Gontcharoff had accustomed them to the delineation of character by broad, sweeping strokes; Dostoevsky to lancet-like thrusts, penetrating the very soul; Turgeneff to tender touches, which produced soft, melting outlines.

It was long before they could reconcile themselves to Tolstoy's original mode of painting a vast series of miniature portraits on an immense canvas.

But the effect of this procedure was at last recognized to be the very acme of throbbing, breathing life itself.

Moreover, it became apparent that Tolstoy's theory of life was, that great generals, statesmen, and as a whole, all active persons who seem or try to control events, do nothing of the kind.

Somewhere above, in the unknown, there is a power which guides affairs at its own will, and (here is the special point) deliberately thwarts all the efforts of the active people.