Part 1

Walk in the Light &

Twenty-three Tales

Walk in the Light &

Twenty-three Tales

LEO TOLSTOY

Translated from the Russian by

Louise and Aylmer Mau Translated from the Russian by Louise and Aylmer Maude

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Farmington, PA 15437 USA

Walk in the Light While There is Light andTwenty-Three Tales were translated from the Russian by Louise and Aylmer Maude.

Cover art(woodcut of Tolstoy) by Karl Mahr,  for Gemeinschafts-Verlag Eberhard Arnold, Sannerz/Leipzig.

Contents

Walk in the Light While There Is Light

A Talk among Leisured People ................................................2 Walk in the Light While There Is Light ..............................6

Twenty-three Tales

Part i Tales for Children......................................................... 51

God Sees the Truth, but Waits ............................................ 52 A Prisoner in the Caucasus................................................... 59 The Bear-Hunt ...................................................................... 82

Part i i Popular Stories .......................................................... 90

What Men Live By ................................................................. 91 A Spark Neglected Burns the House .................................110 Two Old Men ........................................................................123 Where Love Is, God Is ..........................................................143

Part iii A Fairy Tale .................................................................154

The Story of Ivan the Fool.................................................. 155

Part iv Stories Written to Pictures .................................... 179

Evil Allures, but Good Endures ........................................ 180 Little Girls Wiser than Men .............................................183 Ilyas......................................................................................... 185

Part v Folktales Retold ........................................................190

The Three Hermits ................................................................ 191

iv C o nt e n ts

The Imp and the Crust ....................................................... 197 How Much Land Does a Man Need? .................................. 201 A Grain as Big as a Hen's Egg ..............................................215 The Godson ..........................................................................218 The Repentant Sinner ......................................................... 234 The Empty Drum ................................................................. 237

Part vi Adaptations from the French ..................................244

The Coffeehouse of Surat ................................................. 245 Too Dear! ..............................................................................252

Part vii Stories Given to Aid the Persecuted Jews ............ 256

Esarhaddon, King of Assyria ............................................. 257 Work, Death, and Sickness: A Legend .............................. 262 Three Questions ................................................................. 265

Wa l k in t he Li ght W h i l e T h ere Is Li ght

A Talk among Leisured People

An Introduction to the Story that Follows

Some guests assembled at a wealthy house one day happened to start a serious conversation about life. They spoke of people present and absent, but failed to find anyone who was satisfied with his life. Not only could no one boast of happiness, but not a single person considered that he was living as a Christian should do. All confessed that they were living worldly lives con cerned only for themselves and their families, none of them thinking of their neighbors, still less of God.

So said all the guests, and all agreed in blaming themselves for living god less and unchristian lives. "Then why do we live so?" exclaimed a youth. "Why do we do what we ourselves disapprove of? Have we no power to change our way of life? We ourselves admit that we are ruined by our luxury, our effeminacy, our riches, and above all by our pride –our separation from our fellow men. To be noble and rich we have to deprive ourselves of all that gives man joy. We crowd into towns, become effeminate, ruin our health, and in spite of all our amusements we die of ennui, and of regrets that our life is not what it should be.

"Why do we live so? Why do we spoil our lives and all the good that God gives us? I don't want to live in that old way! I will abandon the studies I have begun–they would only bring me to the same tormenting life of which we are all now complaining. I will renounce my property and go to the country and live among the poor. I will work with them, will learn to labor with my hands, and if my education is of any use to the poor I will share it with them, not through institutions and books but directly by living with them in a brotherly way.

"Yes, I have made up my mind," he added, looking inquiringly at his fa ther, who was also present.

"Your wish is a worthy one," said his father, "but thoughtless and ill-con sidered. It seems so easy to you only because you do not know life. There

3 A Ta lk Am on g L ei sured Pe op l e

are many things that seem to us good, but the execution of what is good is complicated and difficult. It is hard enough to walk well on a beaten track, but it is harder still to lay out a new one. New paths are made only by men who are thoroughly mature and have mastered all that is attainable by man. It seems to you easy to make new paths of life only because you do not yet understand life. It is an outcome of thoughtlessness and youthful pride. We old folk are needed to moderate your impulsiveness and guide you by our experience, and you young folk should obey us in order to profit by that experience. Your active life lies before you. You are now growing up and developing. Finish your education, make yourself thoroughly conversant with things, get on to your own feet, have firm convictions of your own, and then start a new life if you feel you have strength to do so. But for the present you should obey those who are guiding you for your own good, and not try to open up new paths of life."

The youth was silent and the older guests agreed with what the father had said.

"You are right," said a middle-aged married man, turning to the youth's father. "It is true that the lad, lacking experience of life, may blunder when seeking new paths of life and his decision cannot be a firm one. But you know we all agreed that our life is contrary to our conscience and does not give us happiness. So we cannot but recognize the justice of wishing to escape from it.

"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.

4 A Ta lk Am on g L ei sured Pe op l e

"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 sup port 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 obliga tions and he must not shirk them.It's different when your family are already on their own feet. 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 labor, to the service to 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," he said, "that a married man, having accustomed his family to a certain comfort, cannot suddenly deprive them of it. It is true that when you have beguntoeducate yourchildrenitis better to finish it thantobreak up everything– especially as the children when they grow up will choose the path they con sider 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 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

5 A Ta lk Am on g L ei sured Pe op l e

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. 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

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 liv ing 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. –

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 traveled 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

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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 be ing 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 the 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 philoso pher, 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, Pamphilius 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?"

Wal k i n t h e L igh t 8

"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 labor 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 noth ing."

"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."

Wal k i n t h e L igh t 9

"How is that?" "Why, this way. We all profess one and the same faith, but the strength to fulfill 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 fulfillment of Christ's law – self renunciation and readiness to lose their life to save it. These desire noth ing. 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 superflui ties. 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 pre tend 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 fulfill 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."

10 Wal k i n t h e L igh t

"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 plea sure 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 traveling 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 col lect 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 merrymaking – 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 fulfillment of His will. To wish to take the pleasures without the labor 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

11 Wal k i n t h e L igh t

that the good of life is not in its pleasures but in the fulfillment 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 fulfillment of God's will, as a wheel follows the shafts. Our Teacher said: 'Come unto me, all ye that labor 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 Pam philius 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 ab sorbed by his own affairs he forgot about him.

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.

The money Julius got from his father was very soon all spent. And just at that time it happened that he and a drunken companion became involved in a brawl and killed a man. The city prefect heard of this and would have had him arrested, but his father intervened and obtained his pardon. Julius now needed still more money for dissipation, and this time he borrowed it from a companion, promising to repay it. Moreover his mistress demanded a present: she had taken a fancy to a pearl necklace, and Julius knew that if he did not gratify her wish she would abandon him and attach herself to a rich man who had long been trying to entice her away.

Julius went to his mother and told her that he must have some money, and

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that he would kill himself if he could not get what he needed. He placed the blame for his being in such a position not on himself but on his father. He said: "My father accustomed me to a life of luxury and then began to grudge me money. Had he given me at first and without reproaches what he gave me later, I should have arranged my life properly and should not have been in such difficulties, but as he never gave me enough I had to go to the moneylenders and they squeezed everything out of me, and I had nothing left on which to live the life natural to me as a rich young man, and was made to feel ashamed among my companions. But my father does not wish to understand anything of all this. He forgets that he was young once himself. He has brought me to this state, and now if he will not give me what I ask I shall kill myself."

The mother, who spoilt her son, went to his father, and Juvenal called his son and began to upbraid both him and his mother. Julius answered his father rudely and Juvenal struck him. Julius seized his father's arm, at which Juvenal shouted to his slaves and bade them bind his son and lock him up.

Julius was left alone, and he cursed his father and his own life. It seemed to him that the only way of escape from his present position was either by his own or his father's death.

Julius's mother suffered even more than he did. She did not try to un derstand who was to blame for all this. She only pitied her adored son. She went again to her husband to implore him to forgive the youth, but he would not listen to her, and reproached her for having spoilt their son. She in turn reproached him, and it ended by Juvenal beating his wife. Disregarding this, however, she went to her son and persuaded him to beg his father's pardon and yield to his wishes, in return for which she promised to take the money he needed from her husband by stealth, and give it him. Julius agreed, and then his mother again went to Juvenal and urged him to forgive his son. Juvenal scolded his wife and son for a long time, but at last decided that he would forgive Julius, on condition that he should abandon his dissolute life and marry the daughter of a rich merchant –a match Juvenal was very anxious to arrange.

"He will get money from me and also have his wife's dowry," said Juvenal, "and then let him settle down to a decent life. If he promises to obey my wishes, I will forgive him; but I will not give him anything at present, and the first time he transgresses I will hand him over to the prefect."

Julius submitted to his father's conditions and was released. He promised to marry and to abandon his bad life, but he had no intention of doing so.

Life at home now became a hell for him. His father did not speak to him

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and quarreled with his mother on his account, and his mother wept.

One day she called him into her apartments and secretly handed him a precious stone which she had taken from her husband's room.

"Go and sell it," she said, "not here but in another town, and then do what you have to do. I shall be able to conceal its loss for the present, and if it is discovered I will lay the blame on one of the slaves."

Julius's heart was pierced by his mother's words. He was horrified at what she had done, and without taking the precious stone he left the house.

He did not himself know where he was going or with what aim. He walked on and on out of the town, feeling that he needed to be alone, and thinking over all that had happened to him and that awaited him. Going farther and farther away at last he reached the sacred grove of the goddess Diana. Coming to a secluded spot he began to think, and the first thought that occurred to him was to seek the goddess's aid. But he no longer believed in the gods, and knew that he could not expect aid from them. And if not from them, then from whom?

To think out his position for himself seemed to him too strange. All was darkness and confusion in his soul. But there was nothing else to be done. He had to listen to his conscience, and began to consider his life and his actions in the light of it. And both appeared to him bad, and above all stupid. Why had he tormented himself like this? Why had he ruined his young life in such a way? It had brought him little happiness and much sorrow and unhappi ness. But chiefly he felt himself alone. Formerly he had had a mother whom he loved, a father, and friends. Now there was no one. Nobody loved him! He was a burden to them all. He had been a cause of suffering to all who knew him. For his mother he was the cause of discord with his father. For his father he was the dissipater of the wealth collected by a lifetime of labor. For his friends he was a dangerous and disagreeable rival. They must all desire his death.

Passing his life in review he remembered Pamphilius and his last meeting with him, and how Pamphilius had invited him to go there, to the Christians. And it occurred to him not to return home, but to go straight to the Chris tians and remain with them.

But could his position be so desperate, he wondered. Again he recalled all that had happened to him, and again he was horrified at the idea that nobody loved him and that he loved no one. His mother, father, and friends did not care for him and must wish for his death. But did he himself love anyone? His friends? He felt that he loved none of them: they were all his rivals and would

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be pitiless to him now that he was in distress. His father? He was seized with horror when he put himself that question. He looked into his heart and found that not only did he not love his father, he even hated him for the restraint and insult he had put upon him. He hated him, and more than that he saw clearly that his father's death was necessary for his own happiness.

"Yes," he said to himself. "If I knew that no one would see it or ever know of it, what should I do if I could immediately, at one stroke, deprive him of life and free myself?"

And he answered his own question: "I should kill him!" And he was hor rified at that reply.

"My mother? I am sorry for her but I do not love her: it is all the same to me what becomes of her. All I need is her help… I am a beast, and a wretched, hunted one at that. I only differ from a beast in that I can by my own will quit this false and evil life. I can do what a beast cannot do –I can kill myself. I hate my father. There is no one I love…neither my mother nor my friends…unless, perhaps, Pamphilius alone?"

And he again thought of him. He recalled their last meeting, their conver sation, and Pamphilius's words that, according to their teaching, Christ had said: "Come unto me all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." Could that be true?

He went on thinking, and remembering Pamphilius's gentle, fearless, and happy face, he wished to believe what Pamphilius had said.

"What indeed am I?" he said to himself. "Who am I? A man seeking hap piness. I sought it in my lusts and did not find it. And all who live as I did fail to find it. They are all evil and suffer. But there is a man who is always full of joy because he demands nothing. He says that there are many like him and that all men will be such if they follow their Master's teaching. What if this be true? True or not it attracts me and I will go there."

So said Julius to himself, and he left the grove, having decided not to return home but to go to the village where the Christians lived.

III

Julius went along briskly and joyously, and the farther he went the more vividly did he imagine to himself the life of the Christians, recalling all that Pamphilius had said, and the happier he felt. The sun was already declining towards evening and he wished to rest, when he came upon a man seated by the roadside having a meal. He was a man of middle age with an intelligent face, and was sitting there eating olives and a flat cake. On seeing Julius he

15 Wal k i n t h e L igh t

smiled and said:

"Greeting to you, young man! The way is still long. Sit down and rest." Julius thanked him and sat down. "Where are you going?" asked the stranger. "To the Christians," said Julius, and by degrees he recounted to the un known his whole life and his decision.

The stranger listened attentively and asked about some details without himself expressing an opinion, but when Julius had ended he packed the remaining food in his wallet, adjusted his dress, and said:

"Young man, do not pursue your intention. You would be making a mis take. I know life; you do not. I know the Christians; you do not. Listen! I will review your life and your thoughts, and when you have heard them from me, you will take what decision seems to you wisest. You are young, rich, hand some, strong, and the passions boil in your veins. You wish to find a quiet refuge where they will not agitate you and you would not suffer from their consequences. And you think that you can find such a shelter among the Christians.

"There is no such refuge, dear young man, because what troubles you does not dwell in Cilicia or in Rome but in yourself. In the quiet solitude of a vil lage the same passions will torment you, only a hundred times more strongly. The deception of the Christians, or their delusion –for I do not wish to judge them–consists in not wishing to recognize human nature. Only an old man who has outlived all his passions could fully carry out their teaching. But a man in the vigor of life, or a youth like you who has not yet tested life and tried himself, cannot submit to their law, because it is based not on human nature but on idle speculations. If you go to them you will suffer from what makes you suffer now, only to a much greater extent. Now your passions lead you into wrong paths, but having once mistaken your road you can correct it. Now at any rate you have the satisfaction of desires fulfilled –that is life. But among the Christians, forcibly restraining your passions, you will err yet more and in a similar way, and besides that suffering you will have the incessant suffering of unsatisfied desires. Release the water from a dam and it will irrigate the earth and the meadows and supply drink for the animals, but confine it and it will burst its banks and flow away as mud. So it is with the passions. The teaching of the Christians (besides the belief in another life with which they console themselves and of which I will not speak) –their practical teaching is this: They do not approve of violence, do not recognize wars, or tribunals, or property, or the sciences and arts, or anything that makes life

16 Wal k i n t h e L igh t

easy and pleasant.

"ThatmightbewellenoughifallmenweresuchastheydescribetheirTeacheras havingbeen. Butthat isnotandcannot beso. Men are evil and subject to passions. That play of passions and the conflicts caused by them are what keep men in the social condition in which they live. The barbarians know no restraint, and for the satisfaction of his desires one such man would destroy the whole world if all men submitted as these Christians do. If the gods implanted in men the senti ments of anger, revenge, and even of vindictiveness against the wicked, they did so because these sentiments are necessary for human life. The Christians teach that these feelings are bad, and that without them men would be happy, and there would be no murders, executions, and wars. That is true, but it is like supposing that people would be happy if they did not eat food. There would then indeed be no greed or hunger, or any of the calamities that result from them. But that supposition would not change human nature. And if some two or three dozen people believed in it, and did actually refrain from food and die of hunger, it would still not alter human nature. The same is true of man's other passions: indignation, anger, revenge, even the love of women, of luxury, or of the pomp and grandeur characteristic of the gods and therefore unalterable characteristics of man too. Abolish man's nutrition and man will be destroyed. And similarly abol ish the passions natural to man and mankind will be unable to exist. It is the same with ownership, which the Christians are supposed to reject. Look around you: every vineyard, every enclosure, every house, every ass, has been produced by man under conditions of ownership. Abandon the rights of property and not one vineyard will be tilled or one animal raised and tended. The Christians say that they have no property, but they enjoy the fruits of it. They say that they have all things in common and that everything is brought together into a common pool. But what they bring together they have received from people who owned property. They merely deceive others, or at best deceive themselves. You say that they themselves work to support themselves, but what they get by work would not support them if they did not avail themselves of what men who recognize ownership have produced. Even if they could support themselves it would be a bare subsistence, and there would be no place among them for the sciences or arts. They do not even recognize the use of our sciences and arts. Nor can it be otherwise. Their whole teaching tends to reduce them to a primitive condition of savagery – to an animal existence.

"They cannot serve humanity by our arts and sciences, and being ignorant

17 Wal k i n t h e L igh t

of them they condemn them. Nor can they serve humanity in any of the ways which constitute man's peculiar prerogative and ally him to the gods. They have neither temples nor statues nor theaters nor museums. They say they do not need these things. The easiest way to avoid being ashamed of one's degradation is to scorn what is lofty, and that is what they do. They are atheists. They do not acknowledge the gods or their participation in human affairs. They believe only in the Father of their Teacher, whom they also call their Father, and the Teacher himself, who they think has revealed to them all the mysteries of life. Their teaching is a pitiful fraud! Consider just this. Our religion says: The world depends on the gods, the gods protect men, and in order to live well men must respect the gods, and must themselves search and think. In this way our life is guided on the one hand by the will of the gods, and on the other by the collective wisdom of mankind. We live, think, search, and thus advance towards the truth.

"But these Christians have neither the gods, nor their own will, nor the wisdom of humanity. They have only a blind faith in their crucified Teacher and in all that he said to them. Now consider which is the more trustworthy guide–the will of the gods and the free activity of collective human wisdom, or the compulsory, blind belief in the words of one man?"

Julius was struck by what the stranger said and particularly by his last words. Not only was his intention of going to the Christians shaken, but it now appeared to him strange that, under the influence of his misfortunes, he could ever have decided on such an insanity. But the question still remained of what he was to do now, and what exit to find from the difficult circumstances in which he was placed, and so, having explained his position, he asked the stranger's advice.

"It was just of that matter I now wished to speak to you," replied the stranger. "What are you to do? Your path –in as far as human wisdom is ac cessible to me –is clear. All your misfortunes have resulted from the passions natural to mankind. Passion has seduced you and led you so far that you have suffered. Such are the ordinary lessons of life. We should avail ourselves of them. You have learned much and know what is bitter and what is sweet, you cannot now repeat those mistakes. Profit by your experience. What distresses you most is your enmity towards your father. That enmity is due to your position. Choose another and it will cease, or at least will not manifest itself so painfully. All your misfortunes are the result of the irregularity of your situation. You gave yourself up to youthful pleasures: that was natural and therefore good. But it was good only as long as it corresponded to your age.

Wal k i n t h e L igh t 18

That time passed, but though you had grown to manhood you still devoted yourself to the frivolities of youth, and this was bad. You have reached an age when you should recognize that you are a man, a citizen, and should serve the State and work on its behalf. Your father wishes you to marry. His advice is wise. You have outlived one phase of life –your youth – and have reached another. All your troubles are indications of a period of transition. Recognize that youth has passed, boldly throw aside all that was natural to it but not natural for a man, and enter upon a new path. Marry, give up the amusements of youth, apply yourself to commerce, public affairs, the sciences and arts, and you will not only be reconciled to your father and friends, but will yourself find peace and happiness. You have reached manhood, and should marry and be a husband. So my chief advice is: accede to your father's wish and marry. If you are attracted by the seclusion you thought to find among the Chris tians, if you are inclined to philosophy and not towards an active life, you can with advantage devote yourself to it only after you have experienced the real meaning of life. But you will know that only as an independent citizen and the head of a family. If afterwards you still feel drawn to solitude, yield to that feeling. It will then be a true desire and not a mere flash of vexation such as it is now. Then go!"

These last words persuaded Julius more than anything else. He thanked the stranger and returned home.

His mother welcomed him with joy. His father too, on hearing of his in tention to submit to his will and marry the girl he had chosen for him, was reconciled to his son.

Three months later the marriage of Julius with the beautiful Eulampia was celebrated. The young couple lived in a separate house belonging to Julius, and he took over a branch of his father's business which was transferred to him. He had now changed his way of life entirely.

One day he went on business to a neighboring town, and there, while sit ting in a shop, he saw Pamphilius passing by with a girl whom Julius did not know. They both carried heavy baskets of grapes which they were selling. On seeing his friend, Julius went out to him and asked him into the shop to have a talk.

The girl, seeing that Pamphilius wished to go with his friend but hesitated to leave her alone, hastened to assure him that she did not need his help, but would sit down with the grapes and wait for customers. Pamphilius thanked

Wal k i n t h e L igh t 19

her, and he and Julius went into the shop.

Julius asked the shopkeeper, whom he knew, to let him take his friend into a private room at the back of the shop, and having received permission they went there.

The two friends questioned each other about their lives. Pamphilius was still living as before in the Christian community and had not married, and he assured his friend that his life had been growing happier and happier each year, each day, and each hour.

Julius told his friend what had happened to himself, and how he had actu ally been on his way to join the Christians when an encounter with a stranger cleared up for him the mistakes of the Christians and showed him what he ought to do, and how he had followed that advice and had married.

"Well, and are you happy now?" inquired Pamphilius. "Have you found in marriage what the stranger promised you?"

"Happy?" said Julius. "What is happiness? If you mean the complete satis faction of my desires, then of course I am not happy. I am at present managing my business successfully, people begin to respect me, and in both these things I find some satisfaction. Though I see many men richer and more highly regarded than myself, I foresee the possibility of equaling or even surpassing them. That side of my life is full, but marriage, I will say frankly, does not sat isfy me. More than that, I feel that it is just my marriage –which should have given me happiness –that has failed. The joy I at first experienced gradually diminished and at last vanished, and instead of happiness came sorrow. My wife is beautiful, clever, well-educated, and kind. At first I was perfectly happy. But now –not having a wife you will not have experienced this –differences arise, sometimes because she desires my attentions when I am indifferent to her, and sometimes for the contrary reason. Besides this, for passion novelty is essential. A woman less fascinating than my wife attracts me more when I first know her, but afterwards becomes still less attractive than my wife: I have experienced that. No, I have not found satisfaction in marriage. Yes, my friend," Julius concluded, "the philosophers are right. Life does not afford us what the soul desires. I have now experienced that in marriage. But the fact that life does not give the happiness that the soul desires does not prove that your deception can give it," he added with a smile.

"In what do you see our 'deception'?" asked Pamphilius. "Your deception consists in this: that to deliver man from the evils con nected with life, you reject all life –repudiate life itself. To avoid disenchant ment you reject enchantment. You reject marriage itself."

20 Wal k i n t h e L igh t

"We do not reject marriage," said Pamphilius. "Well, if you don't reject marriage, at any rate you reject love." "On the contrary, we reject everything except love. For us it is the basis of everything."

"I do not understand you," said Julius. "As far as I have heard from oth ers and from yourself, and judging by the fact that you are not yet married though you are the same age as myself, I conclude that your people do not marry. Those who are already married continue to be so, but the others do not form fresh marriages. You do not concern yourself about continuing the human race. And if you were the only people the human race would long ago have died out," he concluded, repeating what he had often heard said.

"That is unjust," replied Pamphilius. "It is true that we do not set ourselves the aim of continuing the human race, and do not make it our concern in the way I have often heard your philosophers speak of it. We suppose that our Father has already provided for that. Our aim is simply to live in accord with His will. If it is His will that the human race should continue, it will do so, if not it will end. That is not our affair, nor our care. Our care is to live in accord with His will. And His will is expressed both in our teaching and in our revelation, in which it is said that a husband shall cleave unto his wife and they twain shall be one flesh.

"Marriage among us is not only not forbidden, but it is encouraged by our elders and teachers. The difference between marriage among us and marriage among you consists only in the fact that our law reveals to us that every lust ful look at a woman is a sin, and so we and our women, instead of adorning ourselves to stimulate desire, try so to avoid it that the feeling of love between us as between brothers and sisters, may be stronger than the feeling of desire for a woman which you call love."

"But all the same you cannot suppress admiration for beauty," said Julius. "I feel sure, for instance, that the beautiful girl with whom you were bring ing the grapes evokes in you the feeling of desire – in spite of the dress which hides her charms."

"I do not yet know," said Pamphilius, blushing. "I have not thought about her beauty. You are the first to speak to me of it. To me she is as a sister. But to continue what I was saying about the difference between our marriages and yours, that difference arises from the fact that among you lust, under the name of beauty and love, and the worship of the goddess Venus, is evoked and developed in people. With us on the contrary lust is considered, not as an evil –for God did not create evil –but as a good which begets evil when it

21 Wal k i n t h e L igh t

is out of place: a temptation as we call it. And we try by all means to avoid it. And that is why I am not yet married, though very possibly I may marry tomorrow."

"But what will decide that?" "The will of God." "How will you know it?" "If you never seek its indications you will never discern it, but if you con stantly seek them they become clear, as divinations from sacrifices and birds are for you. And as you have your wise men who interpret for you the will of the gods by their wisdom and from the entrails of their sacrificed animals and by the flight of birds, so we too have our wise men who explain to us the will of the Father according to Christ's revelation and the promptings of their hearts and the thoughts of others, and chiefly by their love of men."

"But all this is very indefinite," retorted Julius. "Who will indicate to you, for instance, when and whom to marry? When I was about to marry I had the choice of three girls. Those three were chosen from among others because they were beautiful and rich, and my father was agreeable to my marrying any one of them. Of the three I chose Eulampia because she was the most beautiful, and more attractive to me than the others. That is easily understood. But what will guide you in your choice?"

"To answer you," said Pamphilius, "I must first tell you that as by our teaching all men are equal in our Father's eyes, therefore they are also equal in our eyes both in their station and in their spiritual and bodily qualities, and consequently our choice (to use a word we consider meaningless) cannot in any way be limited. Anyone in the whole world may be the husband or wife of a Christian."

"That makes it still more impossible to decide." said Julius. "I will tell you what our Elder said to me about the difference between the marriage of a Christian and a pagan. A pagan, such as yourself, chooses the wife who in his opinion will give him the greatest amount of personal enjoy ment. In such circumstances the eye wanders and it is difficult to decide, especially as the enjoyment is to be in the future. But a Christian has no such choice to make, or rather, when choosing, his personal enjoyment occupies not the first but a secondary place. For a Christian the question is how not to infringe the will of God by his marriage."

"But in what way can there be an infringement of God's will by mar riage?"

"I might have forgotten the Iliad which we used to read and study together,

22 Wal k i n t h e L igh t

but you who live among sages and poets cannot have forgotten it. What is the whole Iliad? It is a story of the infringement of God's will in relation to marriage. Menelaus and Paris and Helen; Achilles and Agamemnon and Chryseis –it is all a description of the terrible ills that flowed and still flow from such infringements."

"But in what does the infringement consist?" "In this: that a man loves a woman for the enjoyment he can get by connec tion with her and not because she is a human being like himself. He marries her solely for his own enjoyment. Christian marriage is possible only when a man loves his fellow men, and when the object of his carnal love is first of all an object of this brotherly love. As a house can only be built rationally and durably when there is a foundation, and a picture can be painted only when something has been prepared on which to paint it, so carnal love is only le gitimate, reasonable, and permanent when it is based on the respect and love of one human being for another. Only on that foundation can a reasonable Christian family life be established."

"But still," said Julius, "I do not see why such a Christian marriage, as you call it, excludes the kind of love for a woman that Paris experienced…"

"I do not say that Christian marriage does not admit of any exclusive feel ing for one woman: on the contrary, only then is it reasonable and holy. But an exclusive love for one woman can arise only when the previously existent love for all men is not infringed.

"The exclusive love for one woman which the poets sing, considering it as good in itself without being based on the general love of man, has no right to be called love. It is animal lust and very often changes into hatred. The best examples of how such so-called love (eros) becomes bestial when it is not based on brotherly love for all men are cases like this: the very woman the man is supposed to love is violated by him; he causes her to suffer and ruins her. In such violence there is evidently no brotherly love, for the man torments the one he loves. In unchristian marriage there is often a concealed violence–as when a man who marries a girl who does not love him, or who loves another, compels her to suffer, and has no compassion for her, using her merely to satisfy his 'love.'"

"Granted that that is so," said Julius, "but if the maiden loves him there is no injustice and I don't see the difference between Christian and pagan marriage."

"I do not know the details of your marriage," replied Pamph ilius, "but I know that every marriage based on nothing but per-

23 Wal k i n t h e L igh t

sonal happiness cannot but result in discord, just as among animals, or men differing little from animals, the simple act of taking food cannot occur without quarreling and strife. Each wants a nice morsel, and as there are not enough choice morsels for all, discord results. Even if it is not expressed openly it is still there secretly. The weak man desires a dainty morsel but knows that the strong man will not give it to him, and though he knows it is impossible to take it away directly from the strong man, he watches him with secret and envious malice and avails himself of the first opportunity to take it from him by guile. The same is true of pagan marriage, but there it is twice as bad because the object of desire is a human being, so that the enmity arises between husband and wife."

"But how can married couples possibly love no one but each other? There will always be some man or woman who loves the one or the other, and then, in your opinion, marriage is impossible. So I see the justice of what is said of you –that you deny marriage. That is why you are not married and probably will not marry. It is not possible for a man to marry a woman without ever having aroused the feeling of love in some other woman, or for a girl to reach maturity without having aroused any man's feeling for herself. What ought Helen to have done?"

"Our Elder Cyril speaks thus about it: In the pagan world men, without thinking of loving their brethren –without cultivating that sentiment –think only of arousing in themselves passionate love for a woman, and they foster that passion in themselves. And so in their world Helen, and every woman like her, arouses the love of many men. Rivals fight one another and strive to surpass one another, as animals do to possess a female. And to a greater or lesser extent their marriage is an act of violence. In our community we not only do not think about the personal enjoyment a woman's beauty may afford, but we avoid all temptations which lead to this –which in the pagan world is regarded as a merit and an object of worship. We, on the contrary, think of those obligations of respect and love of our neighbor which we feel for all men, for the greatest beauty and the greatest deformity. We cultivate them with all our might, and so the feeling of brotherly love supplants the seduc tion of beauty, vanquishes it, and eliminates the discords arising from sexual intercourse. A Christian marries only when he knows that his union with the woman will not cause pain to anyone."

"But is that possible?" rejoined Julius. "Can men control their passions?" "It is impossible if they are allowed free play, but we can pre vent their awakening and being aroused. Take, for example, the re-

24 Wal k i n t h e L igh t

lations of a father and his daughter, a mother and her son, or of brothers and sisters. However beautiful she may be, the mother is for her son an object of pure love and not of personal enjoyment. And it is the same with a daughter and her father, and a sister and her brother. Feelings of desire are not awakened. They would awaken only if the father learned that she whom he considered to be his daughter was not his daughter, and similarly in the relation of a mother and son, and a brother and sister. But even then the sensation would be very feeble and easily suppressed, and it would be in the man's power to restrain it. The feeling of desire would be feeble because at its base would lie the sentiment of maternal, paternal, or fraternal love. Why do you not wish to believe that such a feeling towards all women –as mothers, sisters, and daughters – may be cultivated and confirmed in men, and that the feeling of conjugal love could grow up on the basis of that feeling? As the brother will only allow a feeling of love for her as a woman to arise in himself after he has learned that she is not his sister, so also a Christian will only allow that feeling to arise in his soul when he feels that his love will cause pain to no one."

"But suppose two men love the same girl?" "Then one will sacrifice his happiness for that of the other." "But how if she loves one of them?" "Then the one whom she loves less will sacrifice his feeling for her happi ness."

"And if she loves both of them and they both sacrifice themselves, she will not marry at all?"

"No, in that case the elders will look into the matter and advise so that there may be the greatest good for all with the greatest amount of love."

"But you know that is not done! It is not done because it would be contrary to human nature."

"Contrary to human nature? What human nature? A man is a human being besides being an animal, and while it is true that such a relation to a woman is not consonant with man's animal nature, it is consonant with his rational nature. When man uses his reason to serve his animal nature he becomes worse than an animal, and descends to violence and incest and to things no animal would do. But when he uses his reason to restrain his animal nature, then that animal nature serves his reason, and only then does he attain a happiness that satisfies him."

25 Wal k i n t h e L igh t

"But tell me about yourself," said Julius. "I see you with that lovely girl, it seems that you live near her and help her. Is it possible that you do not wish to become her husband?"

"I do not think about it," said Pamphilius. "She is the daughter of a Chris tian widow. I serve them as others do. You ask whether I love her so that I wish to unite my life with hers? That question is hard for me to answer, but I will do so frankly. That thought has occurred to me but I dare not as yet entertain it, for there is another young man who loves her. That young man is a Christian and loves us both, and so I cannot do anything that would cause him pain. I live without thinking of it. I seek only one thing: to fulfill the law of love of man. That is the one thing needful. I shall marry when I see that it is necessary."

"But it cannot be a matter of indifference to her mother to get a good in dustrious son-in-law. She will want you and not someone else."

"No, it is a matter of indifference to her, because she knows that we are all ready to serve her, as we would anyone else, and that I should serve her neither more nor less whether I became her son-in-law or not. If it comes about that I marry her daughter, I shall accept it gladly, as I should do her marriage with someone else."

"That is impossible!" exclaimed Julius. "What is so terrible about you is that you deceive yourselves and so deceive others. What that stranger told me about you was correct. When I listen to you I involuntarily yield to the beauty of the life you describe, but when I reflect I see that it is all a deception leading to savagery, to a coarseness of life resembling that of the animals."

"In what do you see this savagery?" "In this, that supporting yourselves by labor, you can have neither leisure nor opportunitytooccupyyourselveswiththesciencesandarts.Hereyouareinragged garments, with coarsened hands and feet; and your companion, who could be a goddess of beauty, resembles a slave. You have neither songs to Apollo, nor temples, nor poetry, nor games –none of the things the gods have given for the adornment of man's life. To work, to work like slaves or like oxen, merely to feed coarsely – is not this a voluntary and impious renunciation of man's will and of human nature?"

"Again 'human nature'!" said Pamphilius. "But in what does this nature consist? In tormenting slaves to work beyond their strength, in killing one's brother-men and enslaving them, and making women into instruments of pleasure? All this is needed for that beauty of life which you consider natural for human beings. Is that man's nature? Or is it to live in love and concord

26 Wal k i n t h e L igh t

with all men, feeling oneself a member of one universal brotherhood?

"You are much mistaken, too, if you think that we do not recognize the arts and sciences. We value highly all the capacities with which human nature is endowed, but we regard all man's inherent capacities as means for the attain ment of one and the same end, to which we consecrate our lives, namely the fulfillment of God's will. We do not regard art and science as an amusement, of use only to while away the time of idle people. We demand of science and art, as of all human occupations, that in them should be realized that activity of love of God and of our neighbors which should be the aim of all Christian activities. We regard as true science only such knowledge as helps us to live a better life, and we esteem as art only what purifies our thoughts, elevates our souls, and strengthens the powers we need for a life of labor and love. Such knowledge we do not fail to develop in ourselves and in our children as far as we can, and to such art we willingly devote our leisure time. We read and study the works bequeathed to us by the wisdom of those who lived before us. We sing songs and paint pictures, and our poems and pictures brace our spirit and console us in moments of grief. That is why we cannot approve of the applications you make of the arts and sciences. Your learned men employ their mental capacities to devise new means of injuring men. They perfect methods of warfare, that is of murder. They contrive new methods of gain, by getting rich at the expense of others. Your art serves for the erection and adornment of temples in honor of gods in whom the more educated among you have long ceased to believe, but whom you encourage others to believe in, in order by such deception the better to keep them in your power. You erect statues in honor of the most powerful and cruel of your tyrants, whom none respect but all fear. In your theaters performances are given extolling guilty love. Music serves for the delectation of your rich, who glut themselves with food and drink at their luxurious feasts. Painting is employed in houses of debauchery to depict scenes such as no sober man, or man not stupefied by animal passion, could look at without blushing. No, not for such ends have those higher capacities which distinguish him from the animals been given to man. They must not be employed for bodily gratification. Devoting our whole lives to the fulfillment of God's will, we employ our highest faculties especially in that service."

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