es the Russian lineage.

In his book on Tolstoy and Dostoyevsky he spends a long time in
differentiating between the artistic intuition of these two great
masters, who are, according to him, the most profound expression of
the popular and higher element of Russian culture.

What strikes him first in Tolstoy is the insistence with which he
describes "animal man." In a kind of "leitmotiv" Merezhkovsky has
shown us the Tolstoyan characters individualized by very particular
corporal signs. "Tolstoy," he says, "has, to the very highest
degree, the gift of clairvoyance of the flesh; even when dead, the
flesh has a tongue." He is the subtle painter of all sensations and
he is a master in this domain. But his art diminishes singularly,
and even disappears when he tries to analyze the soul within the
flesh. Dostoyevsky, on the other hand, triumphs in his dialogue; one
sees his characters because one shares all their sadness, their
passions, their intelligence, and their sensibility. Dostoyevsky is
the painter of the depths of the human soul, which he portrays with
almost supernatural acuteness. And, as Tolstoy is "the seer of the
flesh," so is Dostoyevsky "the seer of the soul."

Having established this difference in principle, Merezhkovsky, by
constant deduction, concludes, in consonance with his favorite idea,
that Tolstoy personifies "the pagan spirit" at its height, while
Dostoyevsky represents "the Christian spirit." There is a great deal
of fine drawn reasoning in all of this, some very original ideas,
but a great many paradoxes. Even the very personality of Tolstoy,
the analysis of which occupies a large part of the book, is
belittled in the hands of Merezhkovsky. Instead of a noble
character, one sees a very vain person, preoccupied only with
himself. It is in this simple way that Merezhkovsky explains the
moral evolution which led Tolstoy to make those long and sad studies
of a kind of life compatible with the true good of humanity, and
forced him to them by "the anguish of the black mystery of death"
which, having got possession of the author of "Anna Karenina" in his
sixtieth year, in the midst of a life of prosperity, made him hate
his fortune and his comfort, which formerly had been so dear to him.
In the refusal of Tolstoy to "bow to the great authorities of the
literary world, such as AEschylus, Dante, and Shakespeare," a refusal
which is only the logical consequence of his ideas on the principle
and purpose o