Chapter XIII
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And Levin remembered a scene he had lately
witnessed between Dolly and her children. The children, left to
themselves, had begun cooking raspberries over the candles and
squirting milk into each other’s mouths with a syringe. Their
mother, catching them at these pranks, began reminding them in
Levin’s presence of the trouble their mischief gave to the grown-up
people, and that this trouble was all for their sake, and that if
they smashed the cups they would have nothing to drink their tea
out of, and that if they wasted the milk, they would have nothing
to eat, and die of hunger.
And Levin had been struck by the passive, weary
incredulity with which the children heard what their mother said to
them. They were simply annoyed that their amusing play had been
interrupted, and did not believe a word of what their mother was
saying. They could not believe it indeed, for they could not take
in the immensity of all they habitually enjoyed, and so could not
conceive that what they were destroying was the very thing they
lived by.
“That all comes of itself,” they thought, “and
there’s nothing interesting or important about it because it has
always been so, and always will be so. And it’s all always the
same. We’ve no need to think about that, it’s all ready. But we
want to invent something of our own, and new. So we thought of
putting raspberries in a cup, and cooking them over a candle, and
squirting milk straight into each other’s mouths. That’s fun, and
something new, and not a bit worse than drinking out of
cups.”
“Isn’t it just the same that we do, that I did,
searching by the aid of reason for the significance of the forces
of nature and the meaning of the life of man?” he thought.
“And don’t all the theories of philosophy do the
same, trying by the path of thought, which is strange and not
natural to man, to bring him to a knowledge of what he has known
long ago, and knows so certainly that he could not live at all
without it? Isn’t it distinctly to be seen in the development of
each philosopher’s theory, that he knows what is the chief
significance of life beforehand, just as positively as the peasant
Fyodor, and not a bit more clearly than he, and is simply trying by
a dubious intellectual path to come back to what every one
knows?
“Now then, leave the children to themselves to get
things alone and make their crockery, get the milk from the cows,
and so on. Would they be naughty then? Why, they’d die of hunger!
Well, then, leave us with our passions and thoughts, without any
idea of the one God, of the Creator, or without any idea of what is
right, without any idea of moral evil.
“Just try and build up anything without those
ideas!
“We only try to destroy them, because we’re
spiritually provided for. Exactly like the children!
“Whence have I that joyful knowledge, shared with
the peasant, that alone gives peace to my soul? Whence did I get
it?
“Brought up with an idea of God, a Christian, my
whole life filled with the spiritual blessings Christianity has
given me, full of them, and living on those blessings, like the
children I did not understand them, and destroy, that is try to
destroy, what I live by. And as soon as an important moment of life
comes, like the children when they are cold and hungry, I turn to
Him, and even less than the children when their mother scolds them
for their childish mischief, do I feel that my childish efforts at
wanton madness are reckoned against me.
“Yes, what I know, I know not by reason, but it has
been given to me, revealed to me, and I know it with my heart, by
faith in the chief thing taught by the church.
“The church! the church!” Levin repeated to
himself. He turned over on the other side, and leaning on his
elbow, fell to gazing into the distance at a herd of cattle
crossing over to the river.
“But can I believe in all the church teaches?” he
thought, trying himself, and thinking of everything that could
destroy his present peace of mind. Intentionally he recalled all
those doctrines of the church which had always seemed most strange
and had always been a stumbling-block to him.
“The Creation? But how did I explain existence? By
existence? By nothing? The devil and sin. But how do I explain
evil? ... The atonement ? ...
“But I know nothing, nothing, and I can know
nothing but what has been told to me and all men.”
And it seemed to him that there was not a single
article of faith of the church which could destroy the chief
thing—faith in God, in goodness, as the one goal of man’s
destiny.
Under every article of faith of the church could be
put the faith in the service of truth instead of one’s desires. And
each doctrine did not simply leave that faith unshaken, each
doctrine seemed essential to complete that great miracle,
continually manifest upon earth, that made it possible for each man
and millions of different sorts of men, wise men and imbeciles, old
men and children—all men, peasants, Lvov, Kitty, beggars and kings
to understand perfectly the same one thing, and to build up thereby
that life of the soul which alone is worth living, and which alone
is precious to us.
Lying on his back, he gazed up now into the high,
cloudless sky. “Do I not know that that is infinite space, and that
it is not a round arch? But, however I screw up my eyes and strain
my sight, I cannot see it not round and not bounded, and in spite
of my knowing about infinite space, I am incontestably right when I
see a solid blue dome, and more right than when I strain my eyes to
see beyond it.”
Levin ceased thinking, and only, as it were,
listened to mysterious voices that seemed talking joyfully and
earnestly within him.
“Can this be faith?” he thought, afraid to believe
in his happiness. “My God, I thank Thee!” he said, gulping down his
sobs, and with both hands brushing away the tears that filled his
eyes.