He was at that time sixty-six years old. I have since read, that when the Czar was one day approached by one of the grand dukes with a request for the banishment of Tolstoy on the ground that he incited rebellion against the government and the church, the Czar is said to have replied, "Je ne veux pas ajouter a sa gloire une couronne d' un martyr"—I do not wish to add to his glory the martyr's crown—words used by Louis XIV of France, when a similar request was made of him.
Under the Poverty Tree.
After that statement, he walked silently, lost in deep thought, perhaps picturing to himself his declining days among fellow martyrs in far-away Siberia, perhaps thinking of the agonies and tortures and untimely deaths that had been inflicted by a cruel or misguided government on thousands of Russia's noblest sons and daughters.
Silently he led the way toward a tree that stood near the house, upon a slight eminence. It was the Poverty Tree that was destined to afford him beneath its wide spreading branches his last resting place. It derived its name from the custom of poor peasants laying there their troubles before the count. Seating himself on a bench beneath the tree he beckoned to us to seat ourselves along side of him. He continued silent for some time, while the setting sun bathed his lionine face and hair in crimson and golden light, and gave him an appearance not unlike one of the old Norse gods or vikings which the artist's brush has made familiar to us. At last he resumed his speech.
My Visit to Tolstoy.
(Continued.)
A Discourse, at Temple Keneseth Israel,
by
Rabbi Joseph Krauskopf, D. D.
Philadelphia, December 18th, 1910.
[Resumé—Discourse I: Reason for my visit to Russia and for my calling on Tolstoy. Description of his appearance and personality. Some of his views on Russia, its statesmen, its religion, its misgovernment. A pause under Poverty Tree beneath which he now lies buried.]