Collected Shorter Fiction, Volume 2

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Collected Shorter Fiction, Volume 2 Page 47

by Leo Tolstoy


  ‘The lad may mistake his fancy for a reasonable deduction, but I, who am no longer young, tell you for myself that as I listened to the talk this evening the same thought occurred to me. It is plain to me that the life I now live cannot give me peace of mind or happiness. Experience and reason alike show me that. Then what am I waiting for? We struggle from morning to night for our families, but it turns out that we and our families live ungodly lives and get more and more sunk in sins. We work for our families, but our families are no better off, because we are not doing the right thing for them. And so I often think that it would be better if I changed my whole way of life and did just what that young man proposed to do: ceased to bother about my wife and children and began to think about my soul. Not for nothing did Paul say: “He that is married careth how he may please his wife, but he that is unmarried careth how he may please the Lord.’ ”

  But before he had finished speaking his wife and all the women present began to attack him.

  ‘You ought to have thought about that before,’ said an elderly woman. ‘You have put on the yoke, so you must draw your load. Like that, everyone will say he wishes to go off and save his soul when it seems hard to him to support and feed his family. That is false and cowardly. No! A man should be able to live in godly fashion with his family. Of course it would be easy enough to save your own soul all by yourself. But to behave like that would be to run contrary to Christ’s teaching. God bade us love others; but in that way you would in His name offend others. No. A married man has his definite obligations and he must not shirk them. It’s different when your family are already on their own feet. Then you may do as you please for yourself, but no one has a right to force his family.’

  But the man who had spoken did not agree. ‘I don’t want to abandon my family,’ he said. ‘All I say is that my family should not be brought up in a worldly fashion, nor brought up to live for their own pleasure, as we have just been saying, but should be brought up from their early days to become accustomed to privation, to labour, to the service of others, and above all to live a brotherly life with all men. And for that we must relinquish our riches and distinctions.’

  ‘There is no need to upset others while you yourself do not live a godly life,’ exclaimed his wife irritably. ‘You yourself lived for your own pleasure when you were young, then why do you want to torment your children and your family? Let them grow up quietly, and later on let them do as they please without coercion from you!’

  Her husband was silent, but an elderly man who was there spoke up for him.

  ‘Let us admit,’ said he, ‘that a married man, having accustomed his family to a certain comfort, cannot suddenly deprive them of it. It is true that if you have begun to educate your children it is better to finish it than to break up everything – especially as the children when grown up will choose the path they consider best for themselves. I agree that for a family man it is difficult and even impossible to change his way of life without sinning. But for us old men it is what God commands. Let me say for myself: I am now living without any obligations, and to tell the truth, simply for my belly. I eat, drink, rest, and am disgusting and revolting even to myself. So it is time for me to give up such a life, to give away my property, and at least before I die to live for a while as God bids a Christian live.’

  But the others did not agree with the old man. His niece and godchild was present, to all of whose children he had stood sponsor and gave presents on holidays. His son was also there. They both protested.

  ‘No,’ said the son. ‘You worked in your time, and it is time for you to rest and not trouble yourself. You have lived for sixty years with certain habits and must not change them now. You would only torment yourself in vain.’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ confirmed his niece. ‘You would be in want and out of sorts, and would grumble and sin more than ever. God is merciful and will forgive all sinners – to say nothing of such a kind old uncle as you!’

  ‘Yes, and why should you?’ added another old man of the same age. ‘You and I have perhaps only a couple of days to live, so why should we start new ways?’

  ‘What a strange thing!’ exclaimed one of the visitors who had hitherto been silent. ‘What a strange thing! We all say that it would be good to live as God bids us and that we are living badly and suffer in body and soul, but as soon as it comes to practice it turns out that the children must not be upset and must be brought up not in godly fashion but in the old way. Young folk must not run counter to their parents’ will and must live not in a godly fashion but in the old way. A married man must not upset his wife and children and must live not in a godly way but as of old. And there is no need for old men to begin anything: they are not accustomed to it and have only a couple of days left to live. So it seems that none of us may live rightly: we may only talk about it.’

  WALK IN THE LIGHT

  WHILE THERE IS LIGHT A STORY OF EARLY CHRISTIAN TIMES

  I

  IT happened in the reign of the Roman Emperor Trajan a hundred years after the birth of Christ, at a time when disciples of Christ’s disciples were still living and Christians held firmly to the Teacher’s law, as is told in the Acts:

  And the multitude of them that believed were of one heart and of one soul: neither said any of them that aught of the things which he possessed was his own; but they had all things in common. And with great power gave the apostles witness of the resurrection of the Lord Jesus: and great grace was upon them all. Neither was there any among them that lacked; for as many as were possessors of lands or houses sold them and brought the prices of the things that were sold, and laid them down at the apostles’ feet: and distribution was made unto every man according as he had need (Acts iv. 32–5).

  In those early times there lived in the province of Cilicia, in the city of Tarsus, a rich Syrian merchant, Juvenal by name, who dealt in precious stones. He was of poor and humble origin, but by industry and skill in his business had earned wealth and the respect of his fellow-citizens. He had travelled much in foreign countries, and though uneducated he had come to know and understand much, and the townsfolk respected him for his ability and probity. He professed the pagan Roman faith that was held by all respectable citizens of the Roman Empire, the ritual of which had been strictly enforced since the time of the Emperor Augustus and was still adhered to by the present Emperor Trajan. Cilicia was far from Rome, but was ruled by Roman governors, and all that was done in Rome was reflected in Cilicia, whose governors imitated their Emperor.

  Juvenal remembered the stories he had heard in childhood of what Nero had done in Rome, and later on he saw how the emperors perished one after another, and being a clever man he understood that there was nothing sacred in the Roman religion but that it was all the work of human hands. But being a clear-headed man he understood that it would not be advantageous to struggle against the existing order of things, and that for his own tranquillity it was better to submit to it. The senselessness of the life all around him, and especially of what went on in Rome, where he repeatedly went on business, often however perplexed him. He had his doubts, he could not grasp it all, and he attributed this to his lack of learning.

  He was married and had had four children, but three of them had died young and only one son, Julius, was left.

  To him Juvenal devoted all his love and care. He particularly wished to educate his son so that that latter might not be tormented by such doubts about life as perplexed himself. When Julius had passed his fifteenth year his father entrusted him to a philosopher who had settled in their town and who received youths for their instruction. His father gave his son to this philosopher, together with his comrade Pamphilius, the son of a former slave whom Juvenal had freed.

  The lads were friends, of the same age, and both handsome fellows. Both studied diligently and both were well conducted. Julius distinguished himself more in the study of the poets and in mathematics, but Pamphilius in the study of philosophy. A year before the completion of their studies, Pamp
hilius at school one day informed his teacher that his widowed mother was moving to the town of Daphne, and that he would have to abandon his studies.

  The teacher was sorry to lose a pupil who was doing him credit, Juvenal too was sorry, but sorriest of all was Julius. But nothing would induce Pamphilius to remain, and after thanking his friends for their love and care, he took his leave.

  Two years passed. Julius had finished his studies and during all that time had not once seen his friend.

  One day however he met him in the street, invited him to his home, and began asking him how and where he was living. Pamphilius told him that he and his mother were still living in the same place.

  ‘We are not living alone,’ said he, ‘but among many friends with whom we have everything in common.’

  ‘How “in common”?’ inquired Julius.

  ‘So that none of us considers anything his own.’

  ‘Why do you do that?’

  ‘We are Christians,’ said Pamphilius.

  ‘Is it possible?’ exclaimed Julius. ‘Why, I have heard that the Christians kill children and eat them! Is it possible that you take part in that?’

  For to be a Christian in those days was the same thing as in our days to be an anarchist. As soon as a man was convicted of being a Christian he was immediately thrown into prison, and if he did not renounce his faith, was executed.

  ‘Come and see,’ replied Pamphilius. ‘We do not do anything strange. We live simply, trying to do nothing bad.’

  ‘But how can you live if you do not consider anything your own?’

  ‘We manage to live. If we work for our brethren they do the same for us.’

  ‘But if your brethren take your labour and do not give you theirs – how then?’

  ‘There are none of that sort,’ said Pamphilius. ‘Such people like to live in luxury and will not come to us. Our life is simple and not luxurious.’

  ‘But there are plenty of lazy people who would be glad to be fed for nothing.’

  ‘There are such, and we receive them gladly. Lately a man of that kind came to us, a runaway slave. At first, it is true, he was lazy and led a bad life, but he soon changed his habits, and has now become a good brother.’

  ‘But suppose he had not improved?’

  ‘There are such, too, and our Elder, Cyril, says that we should treat these as our most valued brethren, and love them even more.’

  ‘How can one love a good-for-nothing fellow?’

  ‘One cannot help but love a man!’

  ‘But how can you give to all whatever they ask?’ queried Julius. ‘If my father gave to all who ask he would very soon have nothing left.’

  ‘I don’t know about that,’ replied Pamphilius. ‘We have enough left for our needs, and if it happens that we have nothing to eat or to wear, we ask of others and they give to us. But that happens rarely. It only once happened to me to go to bed supperless, and then only because I was very tired and did not wish to go to ask for anything.’

  ‘I don’t know how you manage,’ said Julius, ‘but my father says that if you don’t save what you have, and if you give to all who ask, you will yourself die of hunger.’

  ‘We don’t! Come and see. We live, and not only do not suffer want, but even have plenty to spare.’

  ‘How is that?’

  ‘Why, this way. We all profess one and the same faith, but the strength to fulfil it differs in each of us. One has more and another less of it. One has advanced much in the true path of life, while another is only just beginning it. In front of us all stands Christ with his life, and we all try to emulate him and see our welfare in that alone. Some of us, like the Elder Cyril and his wife Pelagia, are leaders, others stand behind them, others again are still farther behind, but we are all following the same path. Those in front already approach a fulfilment of Christ’s law – self-renunciation and readiness to lose their life to save it. These desire nothing. They do not spare themselves, and in accord with Christ’s law are ready to give the last of their possessions to those who ask. Others are feebler, they weaken and are sorry for themselves when they lack their customary clothing and food, and they do not give away everything. There are others who are still weaker – such as have only recently started on the path. These still live in the old way, keeping much for themselves, and only giving away their superfluities. And it is these hindmost people who give the largest material assistance to those in the van. Besides this, we are all of us entangled by our relationships with the pagans. One man’s father is a pagan who has property and gives to his son. The son gives to those who ask, but then the father again gives to him. Another has a pagan mother who is sorry for her son and helps him. A third is the mother of pagan children, who take care of her and give her things, begging her not to give them away, and she takes what they give her out of love for them, but still gives to others. A fourth has a pagan wife and a fifth a pagan husband. So we are all entangled, and the foremost, who would gladly give away their all, are not able to do so. That is why our life does not prove too hard for those weak in the faith, and why it happens that we have much that is superfluous.’

  To this Julius said:

  ‘But if that is so, then you fail to observe Christ’s teaching and only pretend to do so. If you do not give up everything there is no difference between you and us. To my mind if a man is a Christian he ought to fulfil Christ’s whole law – give up everything and become a pauper.’

  ‘That would be best of all,’ said Pamphilius. ‘Why do you not do it?’

  ‘Yes, I will when I see you do it.’

  ‘We don’t want to do anything for show. And I don’t advise you to come to us and renounce your present way of life for the sake of appearances. We act as we do not for appearances, but according to our faith.’

  ‘What does “according to our faith” mean?’

  ‘ “According to our faith” means that salvation from the evils of the world, from death, is only to be found in a life according to the teaching of Christ. We are indifferent to what people may say of us. We act as we do not for men’s approval, but because in this alone do we see life and welfare.’

  ‘It is impossible not to live for oneself,’ said Julius. ‘The gods themselves have implanted it in us that we love ourselves more than others and seek pleasure for ourselves. And you do the same. You yourself say that some among you have pity on themselves. They will seek pleasures for themselves more and more, and will more and more abandon your faith and behave just as we do.’

  ‘No,’ said Pamphilius, ‘our brethren are travelling another path and will not weaken but will grow ever stronger, just as a fire will never go out when more wood is laid on it. That is our faith.’

  ‘I don’t understand what this faith of yours is!’

  ‘Our faith consists in this, that we understand life as Christ has explained it to us.’

  ‘How is that?’

  ‘Christ once told this parable. Certain men kept a vineyard and had to pay rent to its owner. That is, we men who live in the world must pay rent to God by doing His will. But these men, in accord with their worldly belief, considered that the vineyard was theirs and that they need pay no rent for it, but had only to enjoy its fruits. The owner sent a messenger to them to collect the rent, but they drove him away. Then the owner sent his son, but him they killed, thinking that after that no one would disturb them. That is the faith of the world by which all worldly people live who do not acknowledge that life is only given us that we may serve God. But Christ has taught us that this worldly belief – that it is better for man if he drives the messenger and the owner’s son out of the vineyard and avoids paying the rent – is a false one, for there is no avoiding the fact that we must either pay the rent or be driven out of the garden. He has taught us that all the things we call pleasures – eating, drinking, and merry-making – cannot be pleasures if we devote our lives to them, but are pleasures only when we are seeking something else – to live a life in conformity with the will of
God. Only then do these pleasures follow as a natural reward of the fulfilment of His will. To wish to take the pleasures without the labour of fulfilling God’s will – to tear the pleasures away from duty – is the same as to tear up a flower and replant it without its roots. We believe this, and so we cannot follow error when we see the truth. Our faith is that the good of life is not in its pleasures but in the fulfilment of God’s will, without any thought of present or future pleasures. And the longer we live the more we see that the pleasures and the good come in the wake of a fulfilment of God’s will, as a wheel follows the shafts. Our Teacher said: “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me, for I am meek and lowly in heart, and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.’ ”

  So spoke Pamphilius. Julius listened and his heart was touched, but what Pamphilius had said was not clear to him. At first it seemed to him that Pamphilius was deceiving him; but then he looked into his friend’s kindly eyes and remembered his goodness, and it seemed to him that Pamphilius was deceiving himself.

  Pamphilius invited Julius to come to see their way of life and, if it pleased him, to remain to live with them.

  And Julius promised, but he did not go to see Pamphilius, and being absorbed by his own affairs he forgot about him.

  II

  JULIUS’S father was wealthy, and as he loved his only son and was proud of him, he did not grudge him money. Julius lived the usual life of a rich young man, in idleness, luxury, and dissipated amusements, which have always been and still remain the same: wine, gambling, and loose women.

  But the pleasures to which Julius abandoned himself demanded more and more money, and he began to find that he had not enough. On one occasion he asked his father for more than he usually gave him. His father gave what he asked, but reproved his son. Julius, feeling himself to blame, but unwilling to admit it, became angry and was rude to his father, as those who know they are to blame and do not wish to acknowledge it, always do.

 

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