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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Father Sergius + +Author: Leo Tolstoy + +Translator: Louise and Aylmer Maude + +Release Date: July 9, 2009 [EBook #985] +Last Updated: September 10, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FATHER SERGIUS *** + + + + +Produced by Judith Boss, and David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + FATHER SERGIUS + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Leo Tolstoy + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h3> + Contents + </h3> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> V </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> VI </a> + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + I + </h2> + <p> + In Petersburg in the eighteen-forties a surprising event occurred. An + officer of the Cuirassier Life Guards, a handsome prince who everyone + predicted would become aide-de-camp to the Emperor Nicholas I. and have a + brilliant career, left the service, broke off his engagement to a + beautiful maid of honour, a favourite of the Empress’s, gave his small + estate to his sister, and retired to a monastery to become a monk. + </p> + <p> + This event appeared extraordinary and inexplicable to those who did not + know his inner motives, but for Prince Stepan Kasatsky himself it all + occurred so naturally that he could not imagine how he could have acted + otherwise. + </p> + <p> + His father, a retired colonel of the Guards, had died when Stepan was + twelve, and sorry as his mother was to part from her son, she entered him + at the Military College as her deceased husband had intended. + </p> + <p> + The widow herself, with her daughter, Varvara, moved to Petersburg to be + near her son and have him with her for the holidays. + </p> + <p> + The boy was distinguished both by his brilliant ability and by his immense + self-esteem. He was first both in his studies—especially in + mathematics, of which he was particularly fond—and also in drill and + in riding. Though of more than average height, he was handsome and agile, + and he would have been an altogether exemplary cadet had it not been for + his quick temper. He was remarkably truthful, and was neither dissipated + nor addicted to drink. The only faults that marred his conduct were fits + of fury to which he was subject and during which he lost control of + himself and became like a wild animal. He once nearly threw out of the + window another cadet who had begun to tease him about his collection of + minerals. On another occasion he came almost completely to grief by + flinging a whole dish of cutlets at an officer who was acting as steward, + attacking him and, it was said, striking him for having broken his word + and told a barefaced lie. He would certainly have been reduced to the + ranks had not the Director of the College hushed up the whole matter and + dismissed the steward. + </p> + <p> + By the time he was eighteen he had finished his College course and + received a commission as lieutenant in an aristocratic regiment of the + Guards. + </p> + <p> + The Emperor Nicholas Pavlovich (Nicholas I) had noticed him while he was + still at the College, and continued to take notice of him in the regiment, + and it was on this account that people predicted for him an appointment as + aide-de-camp to the Emperor. Kasatsky himself strongly desired it, not + from ambition only but chiefly because since his cadet days he had been + passionately devoted to Nicholas Pavlovich. The Emperor had often visited + the Military College and every time Kasatsky saw that tall erect figure, + with breast expanded in its military overcoat, entering with brisk step, + saw the cropped side-whiskers, the moustache, the aquiline nose, and heard + the sonorous voice exchanging greetings with the cadets, he was seized by + the same rapture that he experienced later on when he met the woman he + loved. Indeed, his passionate adoration of the Emperor was even stronger: + he wished to sacrifice something—everything, even himself—to + prove his complete devotion. And the Emperor Nicholas was conscious of + evoking this rapture and deliberately aroused it. He played with the + cadets, surrounded himself with them, treating them sometimes with + childish simplicity, sometimes as a friend, and then again with majestic + solemnity. After that affair with the officer, Nicholas Pavlovich said + nothing to Kasatsky, but when the latter approached he waved him away + theatrically, frowned, shook his finger at him, and afterwards when + leaving, said: ‘Remember that I know everything. There are some things I + would rather not know, but they remain here,’ and he pointed to his heart. + </p> + <p> + When on leaving College the cadets were received by the Emperor, he did + not again refer to Kasatsky’s offence, but told them all, as was his + custom, that they should serve him and the fatherland loyally, that he + would always be their best friend, and that when necessary they might + approach him direct. All the cadets were as usual greatly moved, and + Kasatsky even shed tears, remembering the past, and vowed that he would + serve his beloved Tsar with all his soul. + </p> + <p> + When Kasatsky took up his commission his mother moved with her daughter + first to Moscow and then to their country estate. Kasatsky gave half his + property to his sister and kept only enough to maintain himself in the + expensive regiment he had joined. + </p> + <p> + To all appearance he was just an ordinary, brilliant young officer of the + Guards making a career for himself; but intense and complex strivings went + on within him. From early childhood his efforts had seemed to be very + varied, but essentially they were all one and the same. He tried in + everything he took up to attain such success and perfection as would evoke + praise and surprise. Whether it was his studies or his military exercises, + he took them up and worked at them till he was praised and held up as an + example to others. Mastering one subject he took up another, and obtained + first place in his studies. For example, while still at College he noticed + in himself an awkwardness in French conversation, and contrived to master + French till he spoke it as well as Russian, and then he took up chess and + became an excellent player. + </p> + <p> + Apart from his main vocation, which was the service of his Tsar and the + fatherland, he always set himself some particular aim, and however + unimportant it was, devoted himself completely to it and lived for it + until it was accomplished. And as soon as it was attained another aim + would immediately present itself, replacing its predecessor. This passion + for distinguishing himself, or for accomplishing something in order to + distinguish himself, filled his life. On taking up his commission he set + himself to acquire the utmost perfection in knowledge of the service, and + very soon became a model officer, though still with the same fault of + ungovernable irascibility, which here in the service again led him to + commit actions inimical to his success. Then he took to reading, having + once in conversation in society felt himself deficient in general + education—and again achieved his purpose. Then, wishing to secure a + brilliant position in high society, he learnt to dance excellently and + very soon was invited to all the balls in the best circles, and to some of + their evening gatherings. But this did not satisfy him: he was accustomed + to being first, and in this society was far from being so. + </p> + <p> + The highest society then consisted, and I think always consist, of four + sorts of people: rich people who are received at Court, people not wealthy + but born and brought up in Court circles, rich people who ingratiate + themselves into the Court set, and people neither rich nor belonging to + the Court but who ingratiate themselves into the first and second sets. + </p> + <p> + Kasatsky did not belong to the first two sets, but was readily welcomed in + the others. On entering society he determined to have relations with some + society lady, and to his own surprise quickly accomplished this purpose. + He soon realized, however, that the circles in which he moved were not the + highest, and that though he was received in the highest spheres he did not + belong to them. They were polite to him, but showed by their whole manner + that they had their own set and that he was not of it. And Kasatsky wished + to belong to that inner circle. To attain that end it would be necessary + to be an aide-de-camp to the Emperor—which he expected to become—or + to marry into that exclusive set, which he resolved to do. And his choice + fell on a beauty belonging to the Court, who not merely belonged to the + circle into which he wished to be accepted, but whose friendship was + coveted by the very highest people and those most firmly established in + that highest circle. This was Countess Korotkova. Kasatsky began to pay + court to her, and not merely for the sake of his career. She was extremely + attractive and he soon fell in love with her. At first she was noticeably + cool towards him, but then suddenly changed and became gracious, and her + mother gave him pressing invitations to visit them. Kasatsky proposed and + was accepted. He was surprised at the facility with which he attained such + happiness. But though he noticed something strange and unusual in the + behaviour towards him of both mother and daughter, he was blinded by being + so deeply in love, and did not realize what almost the whole town knew—namely, + that his fiancee had been the Emperor Nicholas’s mistress the previous + year. + </p> + <p> + Two weeks before the day arranged for the wedding, Kasatsky was at + Tsarskoe Selo at his fiancee’s country place. It was a hot day in May. He + and his betrothed had walked about the garden and were sitting on a bench + in a shady linden alley. Mary’s white muslin dress suited her particularly + well, and she seemed the personification of innocence and love as she sat, + now bending her head, now gazing up at the very tall and handsome man who + was speaking to her with particular tenderness and self-restraint, as if + he feared by word or gesture to offend or sully her angelic purity. + </p> + <p> + Kasatsky belonged to those men of the eighteen-forties (they are now no + longer to be found) who while deliberately and without any conscientious + scruples condoning impurity in themselves, required ideal and angelic + purity in their women, regarded all unmarried women of their circle as + possessed of such purity, and treated them accordingly. There was much + that was false and harmful in this outlook, as concerning the laxity the + men permitted themselves, but in regard to the women that old-fashioned + view (sharply differing from that held by young people to-day who see in + every girl merely a female seeking a mate) was, I think, of value. The + girls, perceiving such adoration, endeavoured with more or less success to + be goddesses. + </p> + <p> + Such was the view Kasatsky held of women, and that was how he regarded his + fiancee. He was particularly in love that day, but did not experience any + sensual desire for her. On the contrary he regarded her with tender + adoration as something unattainable. + </p> + <p> + He rose to his full height, standing before her with both hands on his + sabre. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have only now realized what happiness a man can experience! And it is + you, my darling, who have given me this happiness,’ he said with a timid + smile. + </p> + <p> + Endearments had not yet become usual between them, and feeling himself + morally inferior he felt terrified at this stage to use them to such an + angel. + </p> + <p> + ‘It is thanks to you that I have come to know myself. I have learnt that I + am better than I thought.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have known that for a long time. That was why I began to love you.’ + </p> + <p> + Nightingales trilled near by and the fresh leafage rustled, moved by a + passing breeze. + </p> + <p> + He took her hand and kissed it, and tears came into his eyes. + </p> + <p> + She understood that he was thanking her for having said she loved him. He + silently took a few steps up and down, and then approached her again and + sat down. + </p> + <p> + ‘You know... I have to tell you... I was not disinterested when I began to + make love to you. I wanted to get into society; but later... how + unimportant that became in comparison with you—when I got to know + you. You are not angry with me for that?’ + </p> + <p> + She did not reply but merely touched his hand. He understood that this + meant: ‘No, I am not angry.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You said...’ He hesitated. It seemed too bold to say. ‘You said that you + began to love me. I believe it—but there is something that troubles + you and checks your feeling. What is it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes—now or never!’ thought she. ‘He is bound to know of it anyway. + But now he will not forsake me. Ah, if he should, it would be terrible!’ + And she threw a loving glance at his tall, noble, powerful figure. She + loved him now more than she had loved the Tsar, and apart from the + Imperial dignity would not have preferred the Emperor to him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Listen! I cannot deceive you. I have to tell you. You ask what it is? It + is that I have loved before.’ + </p> + <p> + She again laid her hand on his with an imploring gesture. He was silent. + </p> + <p> + ‘You want to know who it was? It was—the Emperor.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We all love him. I can imagine you, a schoolgirl at the Institute...’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, it was later. I was infatuated, but it passed... I must tell you...’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, what of it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, it was not simply—’ She covered her face with her hands. + </p> + <p> + ‘What? You gave yourself to him?’ + </p> + <p> + She was silent. + </p> + <p> + ‘His mistress?’ + </p> + <p> + She did not answer. + </p> + <p> + He sprang up and stood before her with trembling jaws, pale as death. He + now remembered how the Emperor, meeting him on the Nevsky, had amiably + congratulated him. + </p> + <p> + ‘O God, what have I done! Stiva!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me! Oh, how it pains!’ + </p> + <p> + He turned away and went to the house. There he met her mother. + </p> + <p> + ‘What is the matter, Prince? I...’ She became silent on seeing his face. + The blood had suddenly rushed to his head. + </p> + <p> + ‘You knew it, and used me to shield them! If you weren’t a woman...!’ he + cried, lifting his enormous fist, and turning aside he ran away. + </p> + <p> + Had his fiancee’s lover been a private person he would have killed him, + but it was his beloved Tsar. + </p> + <p> + Next day he applied both for furlough and his discharge, and professing to + be ill, so as to see no one, he went away to the country. + </p> + <p> + He spent the summer at his village arranging his affairs. When summer was + over he did not return to Petersburg, but entered a monastery and there + became a monk. + </p> + <p> + His mother wrote to try to dissuade him from this decisive step, but he + replied that he felt God’s call which transcended all other + considerations. Only his sister, who was as proud and ambitious as he, + understood him. + </p> + <p> + She understood that he had become a monk in order to be above those who + considered themselves his superiors. And she understood him correctly. By + becoming a monk he showed contempt for all that seemed most important to + others and had seemed so to him while he was in the service, and he now + ascended a height from which he could look down on those he had formerly + envied.... But it was not this alone, as his sister Varvara supposed, that + influenced him. There was also in him something else—a sincere + religious feeling which Varvara did not know, which intertwined itself + with the feeling of pride and the desire for pre-eminence, and guided him. + His disillusionment with Mary, whom he had thought of angelic purity, and + his sense of injury, were so strong that they brought him to despair, and + the despair led him—to what? To God, to his childhood’s faith which + had never been destroyed in him. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II + </h2> + <p> + Kasatsky entered the monastery on the feast of the Intercession of the + Blessed Virgin. The Abbot of that monastery was a gentleman by birth, a + learned writer and a starets, that is, he belonged to that succession of + monks originating in Walachia who each choose a director and teacher whom + they implicitly obey. This Superior had been a disciple of the starets + Ambrose, who was a disciple of Makarius, who was a disciple of the starets + Leonid, who was a disciple of Paussy Velichkovsky. + </p> + <p> + To this Abbot Kasatsky submitted himself as to his chosen director. Here + in the monastery, besides the feeling of ascendency over others that such + a life gave him, he felt much as he had done in the world: he found + satisfaction in attaining the greatest possible perfection outwardly as + well as inwardly. As in the regiment he had been not merely an + irreproachable officer but had even exceeded his duties and widened the + borders of perfection, so also as a monk he tried to be perfect, and was + always industrious, abstemious, submissive, and meek, as well as pure both + in deed and in thought, and obedient. This last quality in particular made + life far easier for him. If many of the demands of life in the monastery, + which was near the capital and much frequented, did not please him and + were temptations to him, they were all nullified by obedience: ‘It is not + for me to reason; my business is to do the task set me, whether it be + standing beside the relics, singing in the choir, or making up accounts in + the monastery guest-house.’ All possibility of doubt about anything was + silenced by obedience to the starets. Had it not been for this, he would + have been oppressed by the length and monotony of the church services, the + bustle of the many visitors, and the bad qualities of the other monks. As + it was, he not only bore it all joyfully but found in it solace and + support. ‘I don’t know why it is necessary to hear the same prayers + several times a day, but I know that it is necessary; and knowing this I + find joy in them.’ His director told him that as material food is + necessary for the maintenance of the life of the body, so spiritual food—the + church prayers—is necessary for the maintenance of the spiritual + life. He believed this, and though the church services, for which he had + to get up early in the morning, were a difficulty, they certainly calmed + him and gave him joy. This was the result of his consciousness of + humility, and the certainty that whatever he had to do, being fixed by the + starets, was right. + </p> + <p> + The interest of his life consisted not only in an ever greater and greater + subjugation of his will, but in the attainment of all the Christian + virtues, which at first seemed to him easily attainable. He had given his + whole estate to his sister and did not regret it, he had no personal + claims, humility towards his inferiors was not merely easy for him but + afforded him pleasure. Even victory over the sins of the flesh, greed and + lust, was easily attained. His director had specially warned him against + the latter sin, but Kasatsky felt free from it and was glad. + </p> + <p> + One thing only tormented him—the remembrance of his fiancee; and not + merely the remembrance but the vivid image of what might have been. + Involuntarily he recalled a lady he knew who had been a favourite of the + Emperor’s, but had afterwards married and become an admirable wife and + mother. The husband had a high position, influence and honour, and a good + and penitent wife. + </p> + <p> + In his better hours Kasatsky was not disturbed by such thoughts, and when + he recalled them at such times he was merely glad to feel that the + temptation was past. But there were moments when all that made up his + present life suddenly grew dim before him, moments when, if he did not + cease to believe in the aims he had set himself, he ceased to see them and + could evoke no confidence in them but was seized by a remembrance of, and—terrible + to say—a regret for, the change of life he had made. + </p> + <p> + The only thing that saved him in that state of mind was obedience and + work, and the fact that the whole day was occupied by prayer. He went + through the usual forms of prayer, he bowed in prayer, he even prayed more + than usual, but it was lip-service only and his soul was not in it. This + condition would continue for a day, or sometimes for two days, and would + then pass of itself. But those days were dreadful. Kasatsky felt that he + was neither in his own hands nor in God’s, but was subject to something + else. All he could do then was to obey the starets, to restrain himself, + to undertake nothing, and simply to wait. In general all this time he + lived not by his own will but by that of the starets, and in this + obedience he found a special tranquillity. + </p> + <p> + So he lived in his first monastery for seven years. At the end of the + third year he received the tonsure and was ordained to the priesthood by + the name of Sergius. The profession was an important event in his inner + life. He had previously experienced a great consolation and spiritual + exaltation when receiving communion, and now when he himself officiated, + the performance of the preparation filled him with ecstatic and deep + emotion. But subsequently that feeling became more and more deadened, and + once when he was officiating in a depressed state of mind he felt that the + influence produced on him by the service would not endure. And it did in + fact weaken till only the habit remained. + </p> + <p> + In general in the seventh year of his life in the monastery Sergius grew + weary. He had learnt all there was to learn and had attained all there was + to attain, there was nothing more to do and his spiritual drowsiness + increased. During this time he heard of his mother’s death and his sister + Varvara’s marriage, but both events were matters of indifference to him. + His whole attention and his whole interest were concentrated on his inner + life. + </p> + <p> + In the fourth year of his priesthood, during which the Bishop had been + particularly kind to him, the starets told him that he ought not to + decline it if he were offered an appointment to higher duties. Then + monastic ambition, the very thing he had found so repulsive in other + monks, arose within him. He was assigned to a monastery near the + metropolis. He wished to refuse but the starets ordered him to accept the + appointment. He did so, and took leave of the starets and moved to the + other monastery. + </p> + <p> + The exchange into the metropolitan monastery was an important event in + Sergius’s life. There he encountered many temptations, and his whole + will-power was concentrated on meeting them. + </p> + <p> + In the first monastery, women had not been a temptation to him, but here + that temptation arose with terrible strength and even took definite shape. + There was a lady known for her frivolous behaviour who began to seek his + favour. She talked to him and asked him to visit her. Sergius sternly + declined, but was horrified by the definiteness of his desire. He was so + alarmed that he wrote about it to the starets. And in addition, to keep + himself in hand, he spoke to a young novice and, conquering his sense of + shame, confessed his weakness to him, asking him to keep watch on him and + not let him go anywhere except to service and to fulfil his duties. + </p> + <p> + Besides this, a great pitfall for Sergius lay in the fact of his extreme + antipathy to his new Abbot, a cunning worldly man who was making a career + for himself in the Church. Struggle with himself as he might, he could not + master that feeling. He was submissive to the Abbot, but in the depths of + his soul he never ceased to condemn him. And in the second year of his + residence at the new monastery that ill-feeling broke out. + </p> + <p> + The Vigil service was being performed in the large church on the eve of + the feast of the Intercession of the Blessed Virgin, and there were many + visitors. The Abbot himself was conducting the service. Father Sergius was + standing in his usual place and praying: that is, he was in that condition + of struggle which always occupied him during the service, especially in + the large church when he was not himself conducting the service. This + conflict was occasioned by his irritation at the presence of fine folk, + especially ladies. He tried not to see them or to notice all that went on: + how a soldier conducted them, pushing the common people aside, how the + ladies pointed out the monks to one another—especially himself and a + monk noted for his good looks. He tried as it were to keep his mind in + blinkers, to see nothing but the light of the candles on the altar-screen, + the icons, and those conducting the service. He tried to hear nothing but + the prayers that were being chanted or read, to feel nothing but + self-oblivion in consciousness of the fulfilment of duty—a feeling + he always experienced when hearing or reciting in advance the prayers he + had so often heard. + </p> + <p> + So he stood, crossing and prostrating himself when necessary, and + struggled with himself, now giving way to cold condemnation and now to a + consciously evoked obliteration of thought and feeling. Then the + sacristan, Father Nicodemus—also a great stumbling-block to Sergius + who involuntarily reproached him for flattering and fawning on the Abbot—approached + him and, bowing low, requested his presence behind the holy gates. Father + Sergius straightened his mantle, put on his biretta, and went + circumspectly through the crowd. + </p> + <p> + ‘Lise, regarde a droite, c’est lui!’ he heard a woman’s voice say. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ou, ou? Il n’est pas tellement beau.’ + </p> + <p> + He knew that they were speaking of him. He heard them and, as always at + moments of temptation, he repeated the words, ‘Lead us not into + temptation,’ and bowing his head and lowering his eyes went past the ambo + and in by the north door, avoiding the canons in their cassocks who were + just then passing the altar-screen. On entering the sanctuary he bowed, + crossing himself as usual and bending double before the icons. Then, + raising his head but without turning, he glanced out of the corner of his + eye at the Abbot, whom he saw standing beside another glittering figure. + </p> + <p> + The Abbot was standing by the wall in his vestments. Having freed his + short plump hands from beneath his chasuble he had folded them over his + fat body and protruding stomach, and fingering the cords of his vestments + was smilingly saying something to a military man in the uniform of a + general of the Imperial suite, with its insignia and shoulder-knots which + Father Sergius’s experienced eye at once recognized. This general had been + the commander of the regiment in which Sergius had served. He now + evidently occupied an important position, and Father Sergius at once + noticed that the Abbot was aware of this and that his red face and bald + head beamed with satisfaction and pleasure. This vexed and disgusted + Father Sergius, the more so when he heard that the Abbot had only sent for + him to satisfy the general’s curiosity to see a man who had formerly + served with him, as he expressed it. + </p> + <p> + ‘Very pleased to see you in your angelic guise,’ said the general, holding + out his hand. ‘I hope you have not forgotten an old comrade.’ + </p> + <p> + The whole thing—the Abbot’s red, smiling face amid its fringe of + grey, the general’s words, his well-cared-for face with its self-satisfied + smile and the smell of wine from his breath and of cigars from his + whiskers—revolted Father Sergius. He bowed again to the Abbot and + said: + </p> + <p> + ‘Your reverence deigned to send for me?’—and stopped, the whole + expression of his face and eyes asking why. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, to meet the General,’ replied the Abbot. + </p> + <p> + ‘Your reverence, I left the world to save myself from temptation,’ said + Father Sergius, turning pale and with quivering lips. ‘Why do you expose + me to it during prayers and in God’s house?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You may go! Go!’ said the Abbot, flaring up and frowning. + </p> + <p> + Next day Father Sergius asked pardon of the Abbot and of the brethren for + his pride, but at the same time, after a night spent in prayer, he decided + that he must leave this monastery, and he wrote to the starets begging + permission to return to him. He wrote that he felt his weakness and + incapacity to struggle against temptation without his help and penitently + confessed his sin of pride. By return of post came a letter from the + starets, who wrote that Sergius’s pride was the cause of all that had + happened. The old man pointed out that his fits of anger were due to the + fact that in refusing all clerical honours he humiliated himself not for + the sake of God but for the sake of his pride. ‘There now, am I not a + splendid man not to want anything?’ That was why he could not tolerate the + Abbot’s action. ‘I have renounced everything for the glory of God, and + here I am exhibited like a wild beast!’ ‘Had you renounced vanity for + God’s sake you would have borne it. Worldly pride is not yet dead in you. + I have thought about you, Sergius my son, and prayed also, and this is + what God has suggested to me. At the Tambov hermitage the anchorite + Hilary, a man of saintly life, has died. He had lived there eighteen + years. The Tambov Abbot is asking whether there is not a brother who would + take his place. And here comes your letter. Go to Father Paissy of the + Tambov Monastery. I will write to him about you, and you must ask for + Hilary’s cell. Not that you can replace Hilary, but you need solitude to + quell your pride. May God bless you!’ + </p> + <p> + Sergius obeyed the starets, showed his letter to the Abbot, and having + obtained his permission, gave up his cell, handed all his possessions over + to the monastery, and set out for the Tambov hermitage. + </p> + <p> + There the Abbot, an excellent manager of merchant origin, received Sergius + simply and quietly and placed him in Hilary’s cell, at first assigning to + him a lay brother but afterwards leaving him alone, at Sergius’s own + request. The cell was a dual cave, dug into the hillside, and in it Hilary + had been buried. In the back part was Hilary’s grave, while in the front + was a niche for sleeping, with a straw mattress, a small table, and a + shelf with icons and books. Outside the outer door, which fastened with a + hook, was another shelf on which, once a day, a monk placed food from the + monastery. + </p> + <p> + And so Sergius became a hermit. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III + </h2> + <p> + At Carnival time, in the sixth year of Sergius’s life at the hermitage, a + merry company of rich people, men and women from a neighbouring town, made + up a troyka-party, after a meal of carnival-pancakes and wine. The company + consisted of two lawyers, a wealthy landowner, an officer, and four + ladies. One lady was the officer’s wife, another the wife of the + landowner, the third his sister—a young girl—and the fourth a + divorcee, beautiful, rich, and eccentric, who amazed and shocked the town + by her escapades. + </p> + <p> + The weather was excellent and the snow-covered road smooth as a floor. + They drove some seven miles out of town, and then stopped and consulted as + to whether they should turn back or drive farther. + </p> + <p> + ‘But where does this road lead to?’ asked Makovkina, the beautiful + divorcee. + </p> + <p> + ‘To Tambov, eight miles from here,’ replied one of the lawyers, who was + having a flirtation with her. + </p> + <p> + ‘And then where?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then on to L——, past the Monastery.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Where that Father Sergius lives?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Kasatsky, the handsome hermit?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mesdames et messieurs, let us drive on and see Kasatsky! We can stop at + Tambov and have something to eat.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But we shouldn’t get home to-night!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Never mind, we will stay at Kasatsky’s.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, there is a very good hostelry at the Monastery. I stayed there when + I was defending Makhin.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, I shall spend the night at Kasatsky’s!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Impossible! Even your omnipotence could not accomplish that!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Impossible? Will you bet?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘All right! If you spend the night with him, the stake shall be whatever + you like.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A DISCRETION!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But on your side too!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, of course. Let us drive on.’ + </p> + <p> + Vodka was handed to the drivers, and the party got out a box of pies, + wine, and sweets for themselves. The ladies wrapped up in their white + dogskins. The drivers disputed as to whose troyka should go ahead, and the + youngest, seating himself sideways with a dashing air, swung his long + knout and shouted to the horses. The troyka-bells tinkled and the + sledge-runners squeaked over the snow. + </p> + <p> + The sledge swayed hardly at all. The shaft-horse, with his tightly bound + tail under his decorated breechband, galloped smoothly and briskly; the + smooth road seemed to run rapidly backwards, while the driver dashingly + shook the reins. One of the lawyers and the officer sitting opposite + talked nonsense to Makovkina’s neighbour, but Makovkina herself sat + motionless and in thought, tightly wrapped in her fur. ‘Always the same + and always nasty! The same red shiny faces smelling of wine and cigars! + The same talk, the same thoughts, and always about the same things! And + they are all satisfied and confident that it should be so, and will go on + living like that till they die. But I can’t. It bores me. I want something + that would upset it all and turn it upside down. Suppose it happened to us + as to those people—at Saratov was it?—who kept on driving and + froze to death.... What would our people do? How would they behave? + Basely, for certain. Each for himself. And I too should act badly. But I + at any rate have beauty. They all know it. And how about that monk? Is it + possible that he has become indifferent to it? No! That is the one thing + they all care for—like that cadet last autumn. What a fool he was!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ivan Nikolaevich!’ she said aloud. + </p> + <p> + ‘What are your commands?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How old is he?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Who?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Kasatsky.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Over forty, I should think.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And does he receive all visitors?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, everybody, but not always.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Cover up my feet. Not like that—how clumsy you are! No! More, more—like + that! But you need not squeeze them!’ + </p> + <p> + So they came to the forest where the cell was. + </p> + <p> + Makovkina got out of the sledge, and told them to drive on. They tried to + dissuade her, but she grew irritable and ordered them to go on. + </p> + <p> + When the sledges had gone she went up the path in her white dogskin coat. + The lawyer got out and stopped to watch her. + </p> + <p> + It was Father Sergius’s sixth year as a recluse, and he was now + forty-nine. His life in solitude was hard—not on account of the + fasts and the prayers (they were no hardship to him) but on account of an + inner conflict he had not at all anticipated. The sources of that conflict + were two: doubts, and the lust of the flesh. And these two enemies always + appeared together. It seemed to him that they were two foes, but in + reality they were one and the same. As soon as doubt was gone so was the + lustful desire. But thinking them to be two different fiends he fought + them separately. + </p> + <p> + ‘O my God, my God!’ thought he. ‘Why dost thou not grant me faith? There + is lust, of course: even the saints had to fight that—Saint Anthony + and others. But they had faith, while I have moments, hours, and days, + when it is absent. Why does the whole world, with all its delights, exist + if it is sinful and must be renounced? Why hast Thou created this + temptation? Temptation? Is it not rather a temptation that I wish to + abandon all the joys of earth and prepare something for myself there where + perhaps there is nothing?’ And he became horrified and filled with disgust + at himself. ‘Vile creature! And it is you who wish to become a saint!’ he + upbraided himself, and he began to pray. But as soon as he started to pray + he saw himself vividly as he had been at the Monastery, in a majestic post + in biretta and mantle, and he shook his head. ‘No, that is not right. It + is deception. I may deceive others, but not myself or God. I am not a + majestic man, but a pitiable and ridiculous one!’ And he threw back the + folds of his cassock and smiled as he looked at his thin legs in their + underclothing. + </p> + <p> + Then he dropped the folds of the cassock again and began reading the + prayers, making the sign of the cross and prostrating himself. ‘Can it be + that this couch will be my bier?’ he read. And it seemed as if a devil + whispered to him: ‘A solitary couch is itself a bier. Falsehood!’ And in + imagination he saw the shoulders of a widow with whom he had lived. He + shook himself, and went on reading. Having read the precepts he took up + the Gospels, opened the book, and happened on a passage he often repeated + and knew by heart: ‘Lord, I believe. Help thou my unbelief!’—and he + put away all the doubts that had arisen. As one replaces an object of + insecure equilibrium, so he carefully replaced his belief on its shaky + pedestal and carefully stepped back from it so as not to shake or upset + it. The blinkers were adjusted again and he felt tranquillized, and + repeating his childhood’s prayer: ‘Lord, receive me, receive me!’ he felt + not merely at ease, but thrilled and joyful. He crossed himself and lay + down on the bedding on his narrow bench, tucking his summer cassock under + his head. He fell asleep at once, and in his light slumber he seemed to + hear the tinkling of sledge bells. He did not know whether he was dreaming + or awake, but a knock at the door aroused him. He sat up, distrusting his + senses, but the knock was repeated. Yes, it was a knock close at hand, at + his door, and with it the sound of a woman’s voice. + </p> + <p> + ‘My God! Can it be true, as I have read in the Lives of the Saints, that + the devil takes on the form of a woman? Yes—it is a woman’s voice. + And a tender, timid, pleasant voice. Phui!’ And he spat to exorcise the + devil. ‘No, it was only my imagination,’ he assured himself, and he went + to the corner where his lectern stood, falling on his knees in the regular + and habitual manner which of itself gave him consolation and satisfaction. + He sank down, his hair hanging over his face, and pressed his head, + already going bald in front, to the cold damp strip of drugget on the + draughty floor. He read the psalm old Father Pimon had told him warded off + temptation. He easily raised his light and emaciated body on his strong + sinewy legs and tried to continue saying his prayers, but instead of doing + so he involuntarily strained his hearing. He wished to hear more. All was + quiet. From the corner of the roof regular drops continued to fall into + the tub below. Outside was a mist and fog eating into the snow that lay on + the ground. It was still, very still. And suddenly there was a rustling at + the window and a voice—that same tender, timid voice, which could + only belong to an attractive woman—said: + </p> + <p> + ‘Let me in, for Christ’s sake!’ + </p> + <p> + It seemed as though his blood had all rushed to his heart and settled + there. He could hardly breathe. ‘Let God arise and let his enemies be + scattered...’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But I am not a devil!’ It was obvious that the lips that uttered this + were smiling. ‘I am not a devil, but only a sinful woman who has lost her + way, not figuratively but literally!’ She laughed. ‘I am frozen and beg + for shelter.’ + </p> + <p> + He pressed his face to the window, but the little icon-lamp was reflected + by it and shone on the whole pane. He put his hands to both sides of his + face and peered between them. Fog, mist, a tree, and—just opposite + him—she herself. Yes, there, a few inches from him, was the sweet, + kindly frightened face of a woman in a cap and a coat of long white fur, + leaning towards him. Their eyes met with instant recognition: not that + they had ever known one another, they had never met before, but by the + look they exchanged they—and he particularly—felt that they + knew and understood one another. After that glance to imagine her to be a + devil and not a simple, kindly, sweet, timid woman, was impossible. + </p> + <p> + ‘Who are you? Why have you come?’ he asked. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do please open the door!’ she replied, with capricious authority. ‘I am + frozen. I tell you I have lost my way.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But I am a monk—a hermit.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, do please open the door—or do you wish me to freeze under your + window while you say your prayers?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But how have you...’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I shan’t eat you. For God’s sake let me in! I am quite frozen.’ + </p> + <p> + She really did feel afraid, and said this in an almost tearful voice. + </p> + <p> + He stepped back from the window and looked at an icon of the Saviour in + His crown of thorns. ‘Lord, help me! Lord, help me!’ he exclaimed, + crossing himself and bowing low. Then he went to the door, and opening it + into the tiny porch, felt for the hook that fastened the outer door and + began to lift it. He heard steps outside. She was coming from the window + to the door. ‘Ah!’ she suddenly exclaimed, and he understood that she had + stepped into the puddle that the dripping from the roof had formed at the + threshold. His hands trembled, and he could not raise the hook of the + tightly closed door. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, what are you doing? Let me in! I am all wet. I am frozen! You are + thinking about saving your soul and are letting me freeze to death...’ + </p> + <p> + He jerked the door towards him, raised the hook, and without considering + what he was doing, pushed it open with such force that it struck her. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh—PARDON!’ he suddenly exclaimed, reverting completely to his old + manner with ladies. + </p> + <p> + She smiled on hearing that PARDON. ‘He is not quite so terrible, after + all,’ she thought. ‘It’s all right. It is you who must pardon me,’ she + said, stepping past him. ‘I should never have ventured, but such an + extraordinary circumstance...’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If you please!’ he uttered, and stood aside to let her pass him. A strong + smell of fine scent, which he had long not encountered, struck him. She + went through the little porch into the cell where he lived. He closed the + outer door without fastening the hook, and stepped in after her. + </p> + <p> + ‘Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me a sinner! Lord, have + mercy on me a sinner!’ he prayed unceasingly, not merely to himself but + involuntarily moving his lips. ‘If you please!’ he said to her again. She + stood in the middle of the room, moisture dripping from her to the floor + as she looked him over. Her eyes were laughing. + </p> + <p> + ‘Forgive me for having disturbed your solitude. But you see what a + position I am in. It all came about from our starting from town for a + sledge-drive, and my making a bet that I would walk back by myself from + the Vorobevka to the town. But then I lost my way, and if I had not + happened to come upon your cell...’ She began lying, but his face confused + her so that she could not continue, but became silent. She had not + expected him to be at all such as he was. He was not as handsome as she + had imagined, but was nevertheless beautiful in her eyes: his greyish hair + and beard, slightly curling, his fine, regular nose, and his eyes like + glowing coal when he looked at her, made a strong impression on her. + </p> + <p> + He saw that she was lying. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes... so,’ said he, looking at her and again lowering his eyes. ‘I will + go in there, and this place is at your disposal.’ + </p> + <p> + And taking down the little lamp, he lit a candle, and bowing low to her + went into the small cell beyond the partition, and she heard him begin to + move something about there. ‘Probably he is barricading himself in from + me!’ she thought with a smile, and throwing off her white dogskin cloak + she tried to take off her cap, which had become entangled in her hair and + in the woven kerchief she was wearing under it. She had not got at all wet + when standing under the window, and had said so only as a pretext to get + him to let her in. But she really had stepped into the puddle at the door, + and her left foot was wet up to the ankle and her overshoe full of water. + She sat down on his bed—a bench only covered by a bit of carpet—and + began to take off her boots. The little cell seemed to her charming. The + narrow little room, some seven feet by nine, was as clean as glass. There + was nothing in it but the bench on which she was sitting, the book-shelf + above it, and a lectern in the corner. A sheepskin coat and a cassock hung + on nails by the door. Above the lectern was the little lamp and an icon of + Christ in His crown of thorns. The room smelt strangely of perspiration + and of earth. It all pleased her—even that smell. Her wet feet, + especially one of them, were uncomfortable, and she quickly began to take + off her boots and stockings without ceasing to smile, pleased not so much + at having achieved her object as because she perceived that she had + abashed that charming, strange, striking, and attractive man. ‘He did not + respond, but what of that?’ she said to herself. + </p> + <p> + ‘Father Sergius! Father Sergius! Or how does one call you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What do you want?’ replied a quiet voice. + </p> + <p> + ‘Please forgive me for disturbing your solitude, but really I could not + help it. I should simply have fallen ill. And I don’t know that I shan’t + now. I am all wet and my feet are like ice.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Pardon me,’ replied the quiet voice. ‘I cannot be of any assistance to + you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I would not have disturbed you if I could have helped it. I am only here + till daybreak.’ + </p> + <p> + He did not reply and she heard him muttering something, probably his + prayers. + </p> + <p> + ‘You will not be coming in here?’ she asked, smiling. ‘For I must undress + to dry myself.’ + </p> + <p> + He did not reply, but continued to read his prayers. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, that is a man!’ thought she, getting her dripping boot off with + difficulty. She tugged at it, but could not get it off. The absurdity of + it struck her and she began to laugh almost inaudibly. But knowing that he + would hear her laughter and would be moved by it just as she wished him to + be, she laughed louder, and her laughter—gay, natural, and kindly—really + acted on him just in the way she wished. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, I could love a man like that—such eyes and such a simple noble + face, and passionate too despite all the prayers he mutters!’ thought she. + ‘You can’t deceive a woman in these things. As soon as he put his face to + the window and saw me, he understood and knew. The glimmer of it was in + his eyes and remained there. He began to love me and desired me. Yes—desired!’ + said she, getting her overshoe and her boot off at last and starting to + take off her stockings. To remove those long stockings fastened with + elastic it was necessary to raise her skirts. She felt embarrassed and + said: + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t come in!’ + </p> + <p> + But there was no reply from the other side of the wall. The steady + muttering continued and also a sound of moving. + </p> + <p> + ‘He is prostrating himself to the ground, no doubt,’ thought she. ‘But he + won’t bow himself out of it. He is thinking of me just as I am thinking of + him. He is thinking of these feet of mine with the same feeling that I + have!’ And she pulled off her wet stockings and put her feet up on the + bench, pressing them under her. She sat a while like that with her arms + round her knees and looking pensively before her. ‘But it is a desert, + here in this silence. No one would ever know....’ + </p> + <p> + She rose, took her stockings over to the stove, and hung them on the + damper. It was a queer damper, and she turned it about, and then, stepping + lightly on her bare feet, returned to the bench and sat down there again + with her feet up. + </p> + <p> + There was complete silence on the other side of the partition. She looked + at the tiny watch that hung round her neck. It was two o’clock. ‘Our party + should return about three!’ She had not more than an hour before her. + ‘Well, am I to sit like this all alone? What nonsense! I don’t want to. I + will call him at once.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Father Sergius, Father Sergius! Sergey Dmitrich! Prince Kasatsky!’ + </p> + <p> + Beyond the partition all was silent. + </p> + <p> + ‘Listen! This is cruel. I would not call you if it were not necessary. I + am ill. I don’t know what is the matter with me!’ she exclaimed in a tone + of suffering. ‘Oh! Oh!’ she groaned, falling back on the bench. And + strange to say she really felt that her strength was failing, that she was + becoming faint, that everything in her ached, and that she was shivering + with fever. + </p> + <p> + ‘Listen! Help me! I don’t know what is the matter with me. Oh! Oh!’ She + unfastened her dress, exposing her breast, and lifted her arms, bare to + the elbow. ‘Oh! Oh!’ + </p> + <p> + All this time he stood on the other side of the partition and prayed. + Having finished all the evening prayers, he now stood motionless, his eyes + looking at the end of his nose, and mentally repeated with all his soul: + ‘Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy upon me!’ + </p> + <p> + But he had heard everything. He had heard how the silk rustled when she + took off her dress, how she stepped with bare feet on the floor, and had + heard how she rubbed her feet with her hand. He felt his own weakness, and + that he might be lost at any moment. That was why he prayed unceasingly. + He felt rather as the hero in the fairy-tale must have felt when he had to + go on and on without looking round. So Sergius heard and felt that danger + and destruction were there, hovering above and around him, and that he + could only save himself by not looking in that direction for an instant. + But suddenly the desire to look seized him. At the same instant she said: + </p> + <p> + ‘This is inhuman. I may die....’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, I will go to her, but like the Saint who laid one hand on the + adulteress and thrust his other into the brazier. But there is no brazier + here.’ He looked round. The lamp! He put his finger over the flame and + frowned, preparing himself to suffer. And for a rather long time, as it + seemed to him, there was no sensation, but suddenly—he had not yet + decided whether it was painful enough—he writhed all over, jerked + his hand away, and waved it in the air. ‘No, I can’t stand that!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘For God’s sake come to me! I am dying! Oh!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well—shall I perish? No, not so!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I will come to you directly,’ he said, and having opened his door, he + went without looking at her through the cell into the porch where he used + to chop wood. There he felt for the block and for an axe which leant + against the wall. + </p> + <p> + ‘Immediately!’ he said, and taking up the axe with his right hand he laid + the forefinger of his left hand on the block, swung the axe, and struck + with it below the second joint. The finger flew off more lightly than a + stick of similar thickness, and bounding up, turned over on the edge of + the block and then fell to the floor. + </p> + <p> + He heard it fall before he felt any pain, but before he had time to be + surprised he felt a burning pain and the warmth of flowing blood. He + hastily wrapped the stump in the skirt of his cassock, and pressing it to + his hip went back into the room, and standing in front of the woman, + lowered his eyes and asked in a low voice: ‘What do you want?’ + </p> + <p> + She looked at his pale face and his quivering left cheek, and suddenly + felt ashamed. She jumped up, seized her fur cloak, and throwing it round + her shoulders, wrapped herself up in it. + </p> + <p> + ‘I was in pain... I have caught cold... I... Father Sergius... I...’ + </p> + <p> + He let his eyes, shining with a quiet light of joy, rest upon her, and + said: + </p> + <p> + ‘Dear sister, why did you wish to ruin your immortal soul? Temptations + must come into the world, but woe to him by whom temptation comes. Pray + that God may forgive us!’ + </p> + <p> + She listened and looked at him. Suddenly she heard the sound of something + dripping. She looked down and saw that blood was flowing from his hand and + down his cassock. + </p> + <p> + ‘What have you done to your hand?’ She remembered the sound she had heard, + and seizing the little lamp ran out into the porch. There on the floor she + saw the bloody finger. She returned with her face paler than his and was + about to speak to him, but he silently passed into the back cell and + fastened the door. + </p> + <p> + ‘Forgive me!’ she said. ‘How can I atone for my sin?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Go away.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Let me tie up your hand.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Go away from here.’ + </p> + <p> + She dressed hurriedly and silently, and when ready sat waiting in her + furs. The sledge-bells were heard outside. + </p> + <p> + ‘Father Sergius, forgive me!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Go away. God will forgive.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Father Sergius! I will change my life. Do not forsake me!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Go away.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Forgive me—and give me your blessing!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost!’—she + heard his voice from behind the partition. ‘Go!’ + </p> + <p> + She burst into sobs and left the cell. The lawyer came forward to meet + her. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, I see I have lost the bet. It can’t be helped. Where will you sit?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It is all the same to me.’ + </p> + <p> + She took a seat in the sledge, and did not utter a word all the way home. + </p> + <p> + A year later she entered a convent as a novice, and lived a strict life + under the direction of the hermit Arseny, who wrote letters to her at long + intervals. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV + </h2> + <h3> + Father Sergius lived as a recluse for another seven years. + </h3> + <p> + At first he accepted much of what people brought him—tea, sugar, + white bread, milk, clothing, and fire-wood. But as time went on he led a + more and more austere life, refusing everything superfluous, and finally + he accepted nothing but rye-bread once a week. Everything else that was + brought to him he gave to the poor who came to him. He spent his entire + time in his cell, in prayer or in conversation with callers, who became + more and more numerous as time went on. Only three times a year did he go + out to church, and when necessary he went out to fetch water and wood. + </p> + <p> + The episode with Makovkina had occurred after five years of his hermit + life. That occurrence soon became generally known—her nocturnal + visit, the change she underwent, and her entry into a convent. From that + time Father Sergius’s fame increased. More and more visitors came to see + him, other monks settled down near his cell, and a church was erected + there and also a hostelry. His fame, as usual exaggerating his feats, + spread ever more and more widely. People began to come to him from a + distance, and began bringing invalids to him whom they declared he cured. + </p> + <p> + His first cure occurred in the eighth year of his life as a hermit. It was + the healing of a fourteen-year-old boy, whose mother brought him to Father + Sergius insisting that he should lay his hand on the child’s head. It had + never occurred to Father Sergius that he could cure the sick. He would + have regarded such a thought as a great sin of pride; but the mother who + brought the boy implored him insistently, falling at his feet and saying: + ‘Why do you, who heal others, refuse to help my son?’ She besought him in + Christ’s name. When Father Sergius assured her that only God could heal + the sick, she replied that she only wanted him to lay his hands on the boy + and pray for him. Father Sergius refused and returned to his cell. But + next day (it was in autumn and the nights were already cold) on going out + for water he saw the same mother with her son, a pale boy of fourteen, and + was met by the same petition. + </p> + <p> + He remembered the parable of the unjust judge, and though he had + previously felt sure that he ought to refuse, he now began to hesitate + and, having hesitated, took to prayer and prayed until a decision formed + itself in his soul. This decision was, that he ought to accede to the + woman’s request and that her faith might save her son. As for himself, he + would in this case be but an insignificant instrument chosen by God. + </p> + <p> + And going out to the mother he did what she asked—laid his hand on + the boy’s head and prayed. + </p> + <p> + The mother left with her son, and a month later the boy recovered, and the + fame of the holy healing power of the starets Sergius (as they now called + him) spread throughout the whole district. After that, not a week passed + without sick people coming, riding or on foot, to Father Sergius; and + having acceded to one petition he could not refuse others, and he laid his + hands on many and prayed. Many recovered, and his fame spread more and + more. + </p> + <p> + So seven years passed in the Monastery and thirteen in his hermit’s cell. + He now had the appearance of an old man: his beard was long and grey, but + his hair, though thin, was still black and curly. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + V + </h2> + <p> + For some weeks Father Sergius had been living with one persistent thought: + whether he was right in accepting the position in which he had not so much + placed himself as been placed by the Archimandrite and the Abbot. That + position had begun after the recovery of the fourteen-year-old boy. From + that time, with each month, week, and day that passed, Sergius felt his + own inner life wasting away and being replaced by external life. It was as + if he had been turned inside out. + </p> + <p> + Sergius saw that he was a means of attracting visitors and contributions + to the monastery, and that therefore the authorities arranged matters in + such a way as to make as much use of him as possible. For instance, they + rendered it impossible for him to do any manual work. He was supplied with + everything he could want, and they only demanded of him that he should not + refuse his blessing to those who came to seek it. For his convenience they + appointed days when he would receive. They arranged a reception-room for + men, and a place was railed in so that he should not be pushed over by the + crowds of women visitors, and so that he could conveniently bless those + who came. + </p> + <p> + They told him that people needed him, and that fulfilling Christ’s law of + love he could not refuse their demand to see him, and that to avoid them + would be cruel. He could not but agree with this, but the more he gave + himself up to such a life the more he felt that what was internal became + external, and that the fount of living water within him dried up, and that + what he did now was done more and more for men and less and less for God. + </p> + <p> + Whether he admonished people, or simply blessed them, or prayed for the + sick, or advised people about their lives, or listened to expressions of + gratitude from those he had helped by precepts, or alms, or healing (as + they assured him)—he could not help being pleased at it, and could + not be indifferent to the results of his activity and to the influence he + exerted. He thought himself a shining light, and the more he felt this the + more was he conscious of a weakening, a dying down of the divine light of + truth that shone within him. + </p> + <p> + ‘In how far is what I do for God and in how far is it for men?’ That was + the question that insistently tormented him and to which he was not so + much unable to give himself an answer as unable to face the answer. + </p> + <p> + In the depth of his soul he felt that the devil had substituted an + activity for men in place of his former activity for God. He felt this + because, just as it had formerly been hard for him to be torn from his + solitude so now that solitude itself was hard for him. He was oppressed + and wearied by visitors, but at the bottom of his heart he was glad of + their presence and glad of the praise they heaped upon him. + </p> + <p> + There was a time when he decided to go away and hide. He even planned all + that was necessary for that purpose. He prepared for himself a peasant’s + shirt, trousers, coat, and cap. He explained that he wanted these to give + to those who asked. And he kept these clothes in his cell, planning how he + would put them on, cut his hair short, and go away. First he would go some + three hundred versts by train, then he would leave the train and walk from + village to village. He asked an old man who had been a soldier how he + tramped: what people gave him, and what shelter they allowed him. The + soldier told him where people were most charitable, and where they would + take a wanderer in for the night, and Father Sergius intended to avail + himself of this information. He even put on those clothes one night in his + desire to go, but he could not decide what was best—to remain or to + escape. At first he was in doubt, but afterwards this indecision passed. + He submitted to custom and yielded to the devil, and only the peasant garb + reminded him of the thought and feeling he had had. + </p> + <p> + Every day more and more people flocked to him and less and less time was + left him for prayer and for renewing his spiritual strength. Sometimes in + lucid moments he thought he was like a place where there had once been a + spring. ‘There used to be a feeble spring of living water which flowed + quietly from me and through me. That was true life, the time when she + tempted me!’ (He always thought with ecstasy of that night and of her who + was now Mother Agnes.) She had tasted of that pure water, but since then + there had not been time for it to collect before thirsty people came + crowding in and pushing one another aside. And they had trampled + everything down and nothing was left but mud. + </p> + <p> + So he thought in rare moments of lucidity, but his usual state of mind was + one of weariness and a tender pity for himself because of that weariness. + </p> + <p> + It was in spring, on the eve of the mid-Pentecostal feast. Father Sergius + was officiating at the Vigil Service in his hermitage church, where the + congregation was as large as the little church could hold—about + twenty people. They were all well-to-do proprietors or merchants. Father + Sergius admitted anyone, but a selection was made by the monk in + attendance and by an assistant who was sent to the hermitage every day + from the monastery. A crowd of some eighty people—pilgrims and + peasants, and especially peasant-women—stood outside waiting for + Father Sergius to come out and bless them. Meanwhile he conducted the + service, but at the point at which he went out to the tomb of his + predecessor, he staggered and would have fallen had he not been caught by + a merchant standing behind him and by the monk acting as deacon. + </p> + <p> + ‘What is the matter, Father Sergius? Dear man! O Lord!’ exclaimed the + women. ‘He is as white as a sheet!’ + </p> + <p> + But Father Sergius recovered immediately, and though very pale, he waved + the merchant and the deacon aside and continued to chant the service. + </p> + <p> + Father Seraphim, the deacon, the acolytes, and Sofya Ivanovna, a lady who + always lived near the hermitage and tended Father Sergius, begged him to + bring the service to an end. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, there’s nothing the matter,’ said Father Sergius, slightly smiling + from beneath his moustache and continuing the service. ‘Yes, that is the + way the Saints behave!’ thought he. + </p> + <p> + ‘A holy man—an angel of God!’ he heard just then the voice of Sofya + Ivanovna behind him, and also of the merchant who had supported him. He + did not heed their entreaties, but went on with the service. Again + crowding together they all made their way by the narrow passages back into + the little church, and there, though abbreviating it slightly, Father + Sergius completed vespers. + </p> + <p> + Immediately after the service Father Sergius, having pronounced the + benediction on those present, went over to the bench under the elm tree at + the entrance to the cave. He wished to rest and breathe the fresh air—he + felt in need of it. But as soon as he left the church the crowd of people + rushed to him soliciting his blessing, his advice, and his help. There + were pilgrims who constantly tramped from one holy place to another and + from one starets to another, and were always entranced by every shrine and + every starets. Father Sergius knew this common, cold, conventional, and + most irreligious type. There were pilgrims, for the most part discharged + soldiers, unaccustomed to a settled life, poverty-stricken, and many of + them drunken old men, who tramped from monastery to monastery merely to be + fed. And there were rough peasants and peasant-women who had come with + their selfish requirements, seeking cures or to have doubts about quite + practical affairs solved for them: about marrying off a daughter, or + hiring a shop, or buying a bit of land, or how to atone for having + overlaid a child or having an illegitimate one. + </p> + <p> + All this was an old story and not in the least interesting to him. He knew + he would hear nothing new from these folk, that they would arouse no + religious emotion in him; but he liked to see the crowd to which his + blessing and advice was necessary and precious, so while that crowd + oppressed him it also pleased him. Father Seraphim began to drive them + away, saying that Father Sergius was tired. + </p> + <p> + But Father Sergius, remembering the words of the Gospel: ‘Forbid them’ + (children) ‘not to come unto me,’ and feeling tenderly towards himself at + this recollection, said they should be allowed to approach. + </p> + <p> + He rose, went to the railing beyond which the crowd had gathered, and + began blessing them and answering their questions, but in a voice so weak + that he was touched with pity for himself. Yet despite his wish to receive + them all he could not do it. Things again grew dark before his eyes, and + he staggered and grasped the railings. He felt a rush of blood to his head + and first went pale and then suddenly flushed. + </p> + <p> + ‘I must leave the rest till to-morrow. I cannot do more to-day,’ and, + pronouncing a general benediction, he returned to the bench. The merchant + again supported him, and leading him by the arm helped him to be seated. + </p> + <p> + ‘Father!’ came voices from the crowd. ‘Dear Father! Do not forsake us. + Without you we are lost!’ + </p> + <p> + The merchant, having seated Father Sergius on the bench under the elm, + took on himself police duties and drove the people off very resolutely. It + is true that he spoke in a low voice so that Father Sergius might not hear + him, but his words were incisive and angry. + </p> + <p> + ‘Be off, be off! He has blessed you, and what more do you want? Get along + with you, or I’ll wring your necks! Move on there! Get along, you old + woman with your dirty leg-bands! Go, go! Where are you shoving to? You’ve + been told that it is finished. To-morrow will be as God wills, but for + to-day he has finished!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Father! Only let my eyes have a glimpse of his dear face!’ said an old + woman. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ll glimpse you! Where are you shoving to?’ + </p> + <p> + Father Sergius noticed that the merchant seemed to be acting roughly, and + in a feeble voice told the attendant that the people should not be driven + away. He knew that they would be driven away all the same, and he much + desired to be left alone and to rest, but he sent the attendant with that + message to produce an impression. + </p> + <p> + ‘All right, all right! I am not driving them away. I am only remonstrating + with them,’ replied the merchant. ‘You know they wouldn’t hesitate to + drive a man to death. They have no pity, they only consider themselves.... + You’ve been told you cannot see him. Go away! To-morrow!’ And he got rid + of them all. + </p> + <p> + He took all these pains because he liked order and liked to domineer and + drive the people away, but chiefly because he wanted to have Father + Sergius to himself. He was a widower with an only daughter who was an + invalid and unmarried, and whom he had brought fourteen hundred versts to + Father Sergius to be healed. For two years past he had been taking her to + different places to be cured: first to the university clinic in the chief + town of the province, but that did no good; then to a peasant in the + province of Samara, where she got a little better; then to a doctor in + Moscow to whom he paid much money, but this did no good at all. Now he had + been told that Father Sergius wrought cures, and had brought her to him. + So when all the people had been driven away he approached Father Sergius, + and suddenly falling on his knees loudly exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + ‘Holy Father! Bless my afflicted offspring that she may be healed of her + malady. I venture to prostrate myself at your holy feet.’ + </p> + <p> + And he placed one hand on the other, cup-wise. He said and did all this as + if he were doing something clearly and firmly appointed by law and usage—as + if one must and should ask for a daughter to be cured in just this way and + no other. He did it with such conviction that it seemed even to Father + Sergius that it should be said and done in just that way, but nevertheless + he bade him rise and tell him what the trouble was. The merchant said that + his daughter, a girl of twenty-two, had fallen ill two years ago, after + her mother’s sudden death. She had moaned (as he expressed it) and since + then had not been herself. And now he had brought her fourteen hundred + versts and she was waiting in the hostelry till Father Sergius should give + orders to bring her. She did not go out during the day, being afraid of + the light, and could only come after sunset. + </p> + <p> + ‘Is she very weak?’ asked Father Sergius. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, she has no particular weakness. She is quite plump, and is only + “nerastenic” the doctors say. If you will only let me bring her this + evening, Father Sergius, I’ll fly like a spirit to fetch her. Holy Father! + Revive a parent’s heart, restore his line, save his afflicted daughter by + your prayers!’ And the merchant again threw himself on his knees and + bending sideways, with his head resting on his clenched fists, remained + stock still. Father Sergius again told him to get up, and thinking how + heavy his activities were and how he went through with them patiently + notwithstanding, he sighed heavily and after a few seconds of silence, + said: + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, bring her this evening. I will pray for her, but now I am + tired....’ and he closed his eyes. ‘I will send for you.’ + </p> + <p> + The merchant went away, stepping on tiptoe, which only made his boots + creak the louder, and Father Sergius remained alone. + </p> + <p> + His whole life was filled by Church services and by people who came to see + him, but to-day had been a particularly difficult one. In the morning an + important official had arrived and had had a long conversation with him; + after that a lady had come with her son. This son was a sceptical young + professor whom the mother, an ardent believer and devoted to Father + Sergius, had brought that he might talk to him. The conversation had been + very trying. The young man, evidently not wishing to have a controversy + with a monk, had agreed with him in everything as with someone who was + mentally inferior. Father Sergius saw that the young man did not believe + but yet was satisfied, tranquil, and at ease, and the memory of that + conversation now disquieted him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Have something to eat, Father,’ said the attendant. + </p> + <p> + ‘All right, bring me something.’ + </p> + <p> + The attendant went to a hut that had been arranged some ten paces from the + cave, and Father Sergius remained alone. + </p> + <p> + The time was long past when he had lived alone doing everything for + himself and eating only rye-bread, or rolls prepared for the Church. He + had been advised long since that he had no right to neglect his health, + and he was given wholesome, though Lenten, food. He ate sparingly, though + much more than he had done, and often he ate with much pleasure, and not + as formerly with aversion and a sense of guilt. So it was now. He had some + gruel, drank a cup of tea, and ate half a white roll. + </p> + <p> + The attendant went away, and Father Sergius remained alone under the elm + tree. + </p> + <p> + It was a wonderful May evening, when the birches, aspens, elms, wild + cherries, and oaks, had just burst into foliage. + </p> + <p> + The bush of wild cherries behind the elm tree was in full bloom and had + not yet begun to shed its blossoms, and the nightingales—one quite + near at hand and two or three others in the bushes down by the river—burst + into full song after some preliminary twitters. From the river came the + far-off songs of peasants returning, no doubt, from their work. The sun + was setting behind the forest, its last rays glowing through the leaves. + All that side was brilliant green, the other side with the elm tree was + dark. The cockchafers flew clumsily about, falling to the ground when they + collided with anything. + </p> + <p> + After supper Father Sergius began to repeat a silent prayer: ‘O Lord Jesus + Christ, Son of God, have mercy upon us!’ and then he read a psalm, and + suddenly in the middle of the psalm a sparrow flew out from the bush, + alighted on the ground, and hopped towards him chirping as it came, but + then it took fright at something and flew away. He said a prayer which + referred to his abandonment of the world, and hastened to finish it in + order to send for the merchant with the sick daughter. She interested him + in that she presented a distraction, and because both she and her father + considered him a saint whose prayers were efficacious. Outwardly he + disavowed that idea, but in the depths of his soul he considered it to be + true. + </p> + <p> + He was often amazed that this had happened, that he, Stepan Kasatsky, had + come to be such an extraordinary saint and even a worker of miracles, but + of the fact that he was such there could not be the least doubt. He could + not fail to believe in the miracles he himself witnessed, beginning with + the sick boy and ending with the old woman who had recovered her sight + when he had prayed for her. + </p> + <p> + Strange as it might be, it was so. Accordingly the merchant’s daughter + interested him as a new individual who had faith in him, and also as a + fresh opportunity to confirm his healing powers and enhance his fame. + ‘They bring people a thousand versts and write about it in the papers. The + Emperor knows of it, and they know of it in Europe, in unbelieving Europe’—thought + he. And suddenly he felt ashamed of his vanity and again began to pray. + ‘Lord, King of Heaven, Comforter, Soul of Truth! Come and enter into me + and cleanse me from all sin and save and bless my soul. Cleanse me from + the sin of worldly vanity that troubles me!’ he repeated, and he + remembered how often he had prayed about this and how vain till now his + prayers had been in that respect. His prayers worked miracles for others, + but in his own case God had not granted him liberation from this petty + passion. + </p> + <p> + He remembered his prayers at the commencement of his life at the + hermitage, when he prayed for purity, humility, and love, and how it + seemed to him then that God heard his prayers. He had retained his purity + and had chopped off his finger. And he lifted the shrivelled stump of that + finger to his lips and kissed it. It seemed to him now that he had been + humble then when he had always seemed loathsome to himself on account of + his sinfulness; and when he remembered the tender feelings with which he + had then met an old man who was bringing a drunken soldier to him to ask + alms; and how he had received HER, it seemed to him that he had then + possessed love also. But now? And he asked himself whether he loved + anyone, whether he loved Sofya Ivanovna, or Father Seraphim, whether he + had any feeling of love for all who had come to him that day—for + that learned young man with whom he had had that instructive discussion in + which he was concerned only to show off his own intelligence and that he + had not lagged behind the times in knowledge. He wanted and needed their + love, but felt none towards them. He now had neither love nor humility nor + purity. + </p> + <p> + He was pleased to know that the merchant’s daughter was twenty-two, and he + wondered whether she was good-looking. When he inquired whether she was + weak, he really wanted to know if she had feminine charm. + </p> + <p> + ‘Can I have fallen so low?’ he thought. ‘Lord, help me! Restore me, my + Lord and God!’ And he clasped his hands and began to pray. + </p> + <p> + The nightingales burst into song, a cockchafer knocked against him and + crept up the back of his neck. He brushed it off. ‘But does He exist? What + if I am knocking at a door fastened from outside? The bar is on the door + for all to see. Nature—the nightingales and the cockchafers—is + that bar. Perhaps the young man was right.’ And he began to pray aloud. He + prayed for a long time till these thoughts vanished and he again felt calm + and confident. He rang the bell and told the attendant to say that the + merchant might bring his daughter to him now. + </p> + <p> + The merchant came, leading his daughter by the arm. He led her into the + cell and immediately left her. + </p> + <p> + She was a very fair girl, plump and very short, with a pale, frightened, + childish face and a much developed feminine figure. Father Sergius + remained seated on the bench at the entrance and when she was passing and + stopped beside him for his blessing he was aghast at himself for the way + he looked at her figure. As she passed by him he was acutely conscious of + her femininity, though he saw by her face that she was sensual and + feeble-minded. He rose and went into the cell. She was sitting on a stool + waiting for him, and when he entered she rose. + </p> + <p> + ‘I want to go back to Papa,’ she said. + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t be afraid,’ he replied. ‘What are you suffering from?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am in pain all over,’ she said, and suddenly her face lit up with a + smile. + </p> + <p> + ‘You will be well,’ said he. ‘Pray!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What is the use of praying? I have prayed and it does no good’—and + she continued to smile. ‘I want you to pray for me and lay your hands on + me. I saw you in a dream.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How did you see me?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I saw you put your hands on my breast like that.’ She took his hand and + pressed it to her breast. ‘Just here.’ + </p> + <p> + He yielded his right hand to her. + </p> + <p> + ‘What is your name?’ he asked, trembling all over and feeling that he was + overcome and that his desire had already passed beyond control. + </p> + <p> + ‘Marie. Why?’ + </p> + <p> + She took his hand and kissed it, and then put her arm round his waist and + pressed him to herself. + </p> + <p> + ‘What are you doing?’ he said. ‘Marie, you are a devil!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, perhaps. What does it matter?’ + </p> + <p> + And embracing him she sat down with him on the bed. + </p> + <p> + At dawn he went out into the porch. + </p> + <p> + ‘Can this all have happened? Her father will come and she will tell him + everything. She is a devil! What am I to do? Here is the axe with which I + chopped off my finger.’ He snatched up the axe and moved back towards the + cell. + </p> + <p> + The attendant came up. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you want some wood chopped? Let me have the axe.’ + </p> + <p> + Sergius yielded up the axe and entered the cell. She was lying there + asleep. He looked at her with horror, and passed on beyond the partition, + where he took down the peasant clothes and put them on. Then he seized a + pair of scissors, cut off his long hair, and went out along the path down + the hill to the river, where he had not been for more than three years. + </p> + <p> + A road ran beside the river and he went along it and walked till noon. + Then he went into a field of rye and lay down there. Towards evening he + approached a village, but without entering it went towards the cliff that + overhung the river. There he again lay down to rest. + </p> + <p> + It was early morning, half an hour before sunrise. All was damp and gloomy + and a cold early wind was blowing from the west. ‘Yes, I must end it all. + There is no God. But how am I to end it? Throw myself into the river? I + can swim and should not drown. Hang myself? Yes, just throw this sash over + a branch.’ This seemed so feasible and so easy that he felt horrified. As + usual at moments of despair he felt the need of prayer. But there was no + one to pray to. There was no God. He lay down resting on his arm, and + suddenly such a longing for sleep overcame him that he could no longer + support his head on his hand, but stretched out his arm, laid his head + upon it, and fell asleep. But that sleep lasted only for a moment. He woke + up immediately and began not to dream but to remember. + </p> + <p> + He saw himself as a child in his mother’s home in the country. A carriage + drives up, and out of it steps Uncle Nicholas Sergeevich, with his long, + spade-shaped, black beard, and with him Pashenka, a thin little girl with + large mild eyes and a timid pathetic face. And into their company of boys + Pashenka is brought and they have to play with her, but it is dull. She is + silly, and it ends by their making fun of her and forcing her to show how + she can swim. She lies down on the floor and shows them, and they all + laugh and make a fool of her. She sees this and blushes red in patches and + becomes more pitiable than before, so pitiable that he feels ashamed and + can never forget that crooked, kindly, submissive smile. And Sergius + remembered having seen her since then. Long after, just before he became a + monk, she had married a landowner who squandered all her fortune and was + in the habit of beating her. She had had two children, a son and a + daughter, but the son had died while still young. And Sergius remembered + having seen her very wretched. Then again he had seen her in the monastery + when she was a widow. She had been still the same, not exactly stupid, but + insipid, insignificant, and pitiable. She had come with her daughter and + her daughter’s fiance. They were already poor at that time and later on he + had heard that she was living in a small provincial town and was very + poor. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why am I thinking about her?’ he asked himself, but he could not cease + doing so. ‘Where is she? How is she getting on? Is she still as unhappy as + she was then when she had to show us how to swim on the floor? But why + should I think about her? What am I doing? I must put an end to myself.’ + </p> + <p> + And again he felt afraid, and again, to escape from that thought, he went + on thinking about Pashenka. + </p> + <p> + So he lay for a long time, thinking now of his unavoidable end and now of + Pashenka. She presented herself to him as a means of salvation. At last he + fell asleep, and in his sleep he saw an angel who came to him and said: + ‘Go to Pashenka and learn from her what you have to do, what your sin is, + and wherein lies your salvation.’ + </p> + <p> + He awoke, and having decided that this was a vision sent by God, he felt + glad, and resolved to do what had been told him in the vision. He knew the + town where she lived. It was some three hundred versts (two hundred miles) + away, and he set out to walk there. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VI + </h2> + <p> + Pashenka had already long ceased to be Pashenka and had become old, + withered, wrinkled Praskovya Mikhaylovna, mother-in-law of that failure, + the drunken official Mavrikyev. She was living in the country town where + he had had his last appointment, and there she was supporting the family: + her daughter, her ailing neurasthenic son-in-law, and her five + grandchildren. She did this by giving music lessons to tradesmen’s + daughters, giving four and sometimes five lessons a day of an hour each, + and earning in this way some sixty rubles (6 pounds) a month. So they + lived for the present, in expectation of another appointment. She had sent + letters to all her relations and acquaintances asking them to obtain a + post for her son-in-law, and among the rest she had written to Sergius, + but that letter had not reached him. + </p> + <p> + It was a Saturday, and Praskovya Mikhaylovna was herself mixing dough for + currant bread such as the serf-cook on her father’s estate used to make so + well. She wished to give her grandchildren a treat on the Sunday. + </p> + <p> + Masha, her daughter, was nursing her youngest child, the eldest boy and + girl were at school, and her son-in-law was asleep, not having slept + during the night. Praskovya Mikhaylovna had remained awake too for a great + part of the night, trying to soften her daughter’s anger against her + husband. + </p> + <p> + She saw that it was impossible for her son-in-law, a weak creature, to be + other than he was, and realized that his wife’s reproaches could do no + good—so she used all her efforts to soften those reproaches and to + avoid recrimination and anger. Unkindly relations between people caused + her actual physical suffering. It was so clear to her that bitter feelings + do not make anything better, but only make everything worse. She did not + in fact think about this: she simply suffered at the sight of anger as she + would from a bad smell, a harsh noise, or from blows on her body. + </p> + <p> + She had—with a feeling of self-satisfaction—just taught + Lukerya how to mix the dough, when her six-year-old grandson Misha, + wearing an apron and with darned stockings on his crooked little legs, ran + into the kitchen with a frightened face. + </p> + <p> + ‘Grandma, a dreadful old man wants to see you.’ + </p> + <p> + Lukerya looked out at the door. + </p> + <p> + ‘There is a pilgrim of some kind, a man...’ + </p> + <p> + Praskovya Mikhaylovna rubbed her thin elbows against one another, wiped + her hands on her apron and went upstairs to get a five-kopek piece [about + a penny] out of her purse for him, but remembering that she had nothing + less than a ten-kopek piece she decided to give him some bread instead. + She returned to the cupboard, but suddenly blushed at the thought of + having grudged the ten-kopek piece, and telling Lukerya to cut a slice of + bread, went upstairs again to fetch it. ‘It serves you right,’ she said to + herself. ‘You must now give twice over.’ + </p> + <p> + She gave both the bread and the money to the pilgrim, and when doing so—far + from being proud of her generosity—she excused herself for giving so + little. The man had such an imposing appearance. + </p> + <p> + Though he had tramped two hundred versts as a beggar, though he was + tattered and had grown thin and weatherbeaten, though he had cropped his + long hair and was wearing a peasant’s cap and boots, and though he bowed + very humbly, Sergius still had the impressive appearance that made him so + attractive. But Praskovya Mikhaylovna did not recognize him. She could + hardly do so, not having seen him for almost twenty years. + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t think ill of me, Father. Perhaps you want something to eat?’ + </p> + <p> + He took the bread and the money, and Praskovya Mikhaylovna was surprised + that he did not go, but stood looking at her. + </p> + <p> + ‘Pashenka, I have come to you! Take me in...’ + </p> + <p> + His beautiful black eyes, shining with the tears that started in them, + were fixed on her with imploring insistence. And under his greyish + moustache his lips quivered piteously. + </p> + <p> + Praskovya Mikhaylovna pressed her hands to her withered breast, opened her + mouth, and stood petrified, staring at the pilgrim with dilated eyes. + </p> + <p> + ‘It can’t be! Stepa! Sergey! Father Sergius!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, it is I,’ said Sergius in a low voice. ‘Only not Sergius, or Father + Sergius, but a great sinner, Stepan Kasatsky—a great and lost + sinner. Take me in and help me!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s impossible! How have you so humbled yourself? But come in.’ + </p> + <p> + She reached out her hand, but he did not take it and only followed her in. + </p> + <p> + But where was she to take him? The lodging was a small one. Formerly she + had had a tiny room, almost a closet, for herself, but later she had given + it up to her daughter, and Masha was now sitting there rocking the baby. + </p> + <p> + ‘Sit here for the present,’ she said to Sergius, pointing to a bench in + the kitchen. + </p> + <p> + He sat down at once, and with an evidently accustomed movement slipped the + straps of his wallet first off one shoulder and then off the other. + </p> + <p> + ‘My God, my God! How you have humbled yourself, Father! Such great fame, + and now like this...’ + </p> + <p> + Sergius did not reply, but only smiled meekly, placing his wallet under + the bench on which he sat. + </p> + <p> + ‘Masha, do you know who this is?’—And in a whisper Praskovya + Mikhaylovna told her daughter who he was, and together they then carried + the bed and the cradle out of the tiny room and cleared it for Sergius. + </p> + <p> + Praskovya Mikhaylovna led him into it. + </p> + <p> + ‘Here you can rest. Don’t take offence... but I must go out.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Where to?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have to go to a lesson. I am ashamed to tell you, but I teach music!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Music? But that is good. Only just one thing, Praskovya Mikhaylovna, I + have come to you with a definite object. When can I have a talk with you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I shall be very glad. Will this evening do?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes. But one thing more. Don’t speak about me, or say who I am. I have + revealed myself only to you. No one knows where I have gone to. It must be + so.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, but I have told my daughter.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, ask her not to mention it.’ + </p> + <p> + And Sergius took off his boots, lay down, and at once fell asleep after a + sleepless night and a walk of nearly thirty miles. + </p> + <p> + When Praskovya Mikhaylovna returned, Sergius was sitting in the little + room waiting for her. He did not come out for dinner, but had some soup + and gruel which Lukerya brought him. + </p> + <p> + ‘How is it that you have come back earlier than you said?’ asked Sergius. + ‘Can I speak to you now?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How is it that I have the happiness to receive such a guest? I have + missed one of my lessons. That can wait... I had always been planning to + go to see you. I wrote to you, and now this good fortune has come.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Pashenka, please listen to what I am going to tell you as to a confession + made to God at my last hour. Pashenka, I am not a holy man, I am not even + as good as a simple ordinary man; I am a loathsome, vile, and proud sinner + who has gone astray, and who, if not worse than everyone else, is at least + worse than most very bad people.’ + </p> + <p> + Pashenka looked at him at first with staring eyes. But she believed what + he said, and when she had quite grasped it she touched his hand, smiling + pityingly, and said: + </p> + <p> + ‘Perhaps you exaggerate, Stiva?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, Pashenka. I am an adulterer, a murderer, a blasphemer, and a + deceiver.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My God! How is that?’ exclaimed Praskovya Mikhaylovna. + </p> + <p> + ‘But I must go on living. And I, who thought I knew everything, who taught + others how to live—I know nothing and ask you to teach me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What are you saying, Stiva? You are laughing at me. Why do you always + make fun of me?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, if you think I am jesting you must have it as you please. But tell + me all the same how you live, and how you have lived your life.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I? I have lived a very nasty, horrible life, and now God is punishing me + as I deserve. I live so wretchedly, so wretchedly...’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How was it with your marriage? How did you live with your husband?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It was all bad. I married because I fell in love in the nastiest way. + Papa did not approve. But I would not listen to anything and just got + married. Then instead of helping my husband I tormented him by my + jealousy, which I could not restrain.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I heard that he drank...’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, but I did not give him any peace. I always reproached him, though + you know it is a disease! He could not refrain from it. I now remember how + I tried to prevent his having it, and the frightful scenes we had!’ + </p> + <p> + And she looked at Kasatsky with beautiful eyes, suffering from the + remembrance. + </p> + <p> + Kasatsky remembered how he had been told that Pashenka’s husband used to + beat her, and now, looking at her thin withered neck with prominent veins + behind her ears, and her scanty coil of hair, half grey half auburn, he + seemed to see just how it had occurred. + </p> + <p> + ‘Then I was left with two children and no means at all.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But you had an estate!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, we sold that while Vasya was still alive, and the money was all + spent. We had to live, and like all our young ladies I did not know how to + earn anything. I was particularly useless and helpless. So we spent all we + had. I taught the children and improved my own education a little. And + then Mitya fell ill when he was already in the fourth form, and God took + him. Masha fell in love with Vanya, my son-in-law. And—well, he is + well-meaning but unfortunate. He is ill.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mamma!’—her daughter’s voice interrupted her—‘Take Mitya! I + can’t be in two places at once.’ + </p> + <p> + Praskovya Mikhaylovna shuddered, but rose and went out of the room, + stepping quickly in her patched shoes. She soon came back with a boy of + two in her arms, who threw himself backwards and grabbed at her shawl with + his little hands. + </p> + <p> + ‘Where was I? Oh yes, he had a good appointment here, and his chief was a + kind man too. But Vanya could not go on, and had to give up his position.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What is the matter with him?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Neurasthenia—it is a dreadful complaint. We consulted a doctor, who + told us he ought to go away, but we had no means.... I always hope it will + pass of itself. He has no particular pain, but...’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Lukerya!’ cried an angry and feeble voice. ‘She is always sent away when + I want her. Mamma...’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m coming!’ Praskovya Mikhaylovna again interrupted herself. ‘He has not + had his dinner yet. He can’t eat with us.’ + </p> + <p> + She went out and arranged something, and came back wiping her thin dark + hands. + </p> + <p> + ‘So that is how I live. I always complain and am always dissatisfied, but + thank God the grandchildren are all nice and healthy, and we can still + live. But why talk about me?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But what do you live on?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, I earn a little. How I used to dislike music, but how useful it is + to me now!’ Her small hand lay on the chest of drawers beside which she + was sitting, and she drummed an exercise with her thin fingers. + </p> + <p> + ‘How much do you get for a lesson?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Sometimes a ruble, sometimes fifty kopeks, or sometimes thirty. They are + all so kind to me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And do your pupils get on well?’ asked Kasatsky with a slight smile. + </p> + <p> + Praskovya Mikhaylovna did not at first believe that he was asking + seriously, and looked inquiringly into his eyes. + </p> + <p> + ‘Some of them do. One of them is a splendid girl—the butcher’s + daughter—such a good kind girl! If I were a clever woman I ought, of + course, with the connexions Papa had, to be able to get an appointment for + my son-in-law. But as it is I have not been able to do anything, and have + brought them all to this—as you see.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, yes,’ said Kasatsky, lowering his head. ‘And how is it, Pashenka—do + you take part in Church life?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, don’t speak of it. I am so bad that way, and have neglected it so! I + keep the fasts with the children and sometimes go to church, and then + again sometimes I don’t go for months. I only send the children.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But why don’t you go yourself?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘To tell the truth’ (she blushed) ‘I am ashamed, for my daughter’s sake + and the children’s, to go there in tattered clothes, and I haven’t + anything else. Besides, I am just lazy.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And do you pray at home?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I do. But what sort of prayer is it? Only mechanical. I know it should + not be like that, but I lack real religious feeling. The only thing is + that I know how bad I am...’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, yes, that’s right!’ said Kasatsky, as if approvingly. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m coming! I’m coming!’ she replied to a call from her son-in-law, and + tidying her scanty plait she left the room. + </p> + <p> + But this time it was long before she returned. When she came back, + Kasatsky was sitting in the same position, his elbows resting on his knees + and his head bowed. But his wallet was strapped on his back. + </p> + <p> + When she came in, carrying a small tin lamp without a shade, he raised his + fine weary eyes and sighed very deeply. + </p> + <p> + ‘I did not tell them who you are,’ she began timidly. ‘I only said that + you are a pilgrim, a nobleman, and that I used to know you. Come into the + dining-room for tea.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No...’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well then, I’ll bring some to you here.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, I don’t want anything. God bless you, Pashenka! I am going now. If + you pity me, don’t tell anyone that you have seen me. For the love of God + don’t tell anyone. Thank you. I would bow to your feet but I know it would + make you feel awkward. Thank you, and forgive me for Christ’s sake!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Give me your blessing.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘God bless you! Forgive me for Christ’s sake!’ + </p> + <p> + He rose, but she would not let him go until she had given him bread and + butter and rusks. He took it all and went away. + </p> + <p> + It was dark, and before he had passed the second house he was lost to + sight. She only knew he was there because the dog at the priest’s house + was barking. + </p> + <p> + ‘So that is what my dream meant! Pashenka is what I ought to have been but + failed to be. I lived for men on the pretext of living for God, while she + lived for God imagining that she lives for men. Yes, one good deed—a + cup of water given without thought of reward—is worth more than any + benefit I imagined I was bestowing on people. But after all was there not + some share of sincere desire to serve God?’ he asked himself, and the + answer was: ‘Yes, there was, but it was all soiled and overgrown by desire + for human praise. Yes, there is no God for the man who lives, as I did, + for human praise. I will now seek Him!’ + </p> + <p> + And he walked from village to village as he had done on his way to + Pashenka, meeting and parting from other pilgrims, men and women, and + asking for bread and a night’s rest in Christ’s name. Occasionally some + angry housewife scolded him, or a drunken peasant reviled him, but for the + most part he was given food and drink and even something to take with him. + His noble bearing disposed some people in his favour, while others on the + contrary seemed pleased at the sight of a gentleman who had come to + beggary. + </p> + <p> + But his gentleness prevailed with everyone. + </p> + <p> + Often, finding a copy of the Gospels in a hut he would read it aloud, and + when they heard him the people were always touched and surprised, as at + something new yet familiar. + </p> + <p> + When he succeeded in helping people, either by advice, or by his knowledge + of reading and writing, or by settling some quarrel, he did not wait to + see their gratitude but went away directly afterwards. And little by + little God began to reveal Himself within him. + </p> + <p> + Once he was walking along with two old women and a soldier. They were + stopped by a party consisting of a lady and gentleman in a gig and another + lady and gentleman on horseback. The husband was on horseback with his + daughter, while in the gig his wife was driving with a Frenchman, + evidently a traveller. + </p> + <p> + The party stopped to let the Frenchman see the pilgrims who, in accord + with a popular Russian superstition, tramped about from place to place + instead of working. + </p> + <p> + They spoke French, thinking that the others would not understand them. + </p> + <p> + ‘Demandez-leur,’ said the Frenchman, ‘s’ils sont bien sur de ce que leur + pelerinage est agreable a Dieu.’ + </p> + <p> + The question was asked, and one old woman replied: + </p> + <p> + ‘As God takes it. Our feet have reached the holy places, but our hearts + may not have done so.’ + </p> + <p> + They asked the soldier. He said that he was alone in the world and had + nowhere else to go. + </p> + <p> + They asked Kasatsky who he was. + </p> + <p> + ‘A servant of God.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Qu’est-ce qu’il dit? Il ne repond pas.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Il dit qu’il est un serviteur de Dieu. Cela doit etre un fils de preetre. + Il a de la race. Avez-vous de la petite monnaie?’ + </p> + <p> + The Frenchman found some small change and gave twenty kopeks to each of + the pilgrims. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mais dites-leur que ce n’est pas pour les cierges que je leur donne, mais + pour qu’ils se regalent de the. Chay, chay pour vous, mon vieux!’ he said + with a smile. And he patted Kasatsky on the shoulder with his gloved hand. + </p> + <p> + ‘May Christ bless you,’ replied Kasatsky without replacing his cap and + bowing his bald head. + </p> + <p> + He rejoiced particularly at this meeting, because he had disregarded the + opinion of men and had done the simplest, easiest thing—humbly + accepted twenty kopeks and given them to his comrade, a blind beggar. The + less importance he attached to the opinion of men the more did he feel the + presence of God within him. + </p> + <p> + For eight months Kasatsky tramped on in this manner, and in the ninth + month he was arrested for not having a passport. This happened at a + night-refuge in a provincial town where he had passed the night with some + pilgrims. He was taken to the police-station, and when asked who he was + and where was his passport, he replied that he had no passport and that he + was a servant of God. He was classed as a tramp, sentenced, and sent to + live in Siberia. + </p> + <p> + In Siberia he has settled down as the hired man of a well-to-do peasant, + in which capacity he works in the kitchen-garden, teaches children, and + attends to the sick. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Father Sergius, by Leo Tolstoy + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FATHER SERGIUS *** + +***** This file should be named 985-h.htm or 985-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/9/8/985/ + +Produced by Judith Boss, and David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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