Resurrection by Leo Nikoleyevich Tolstoy (i love reading .TXT) đź“–
- Author: Leo Nikoleyevich Tolstoy
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peculiar relations which often exist between a pure young man and
girl who are attracted to each other.
When Katusha came into the room, or even when he saw her white
apron from afar, everything brightened up in Nekhludoff’s eyes,
as when the sun appears everything becomes more interesting, more
joyful, more important. The whole of life seemed full of
gladness. And she felt the same. But it was not only Katusha’s
presence that had this effect on Nekhludoff. The mere thought
that Katusha existed (and for her that Nekhludoff existed) had
this effect.
When he received an unpleasant letter from his mother, or could
not get on with his essay, or felt the unreasoning sadness that
young people are often subject to, he had only to remember
Katusha and that he should see her, and it all vanished. Katusha
had much work to do in the house, but she managed to get a little
leisure for reading, and Nekhludoff gave her Dostoievsky and
Tourgeneff (whom he had just read himself) to read. She liked
Tourgeneff’s Lull best. They had talks at moments snatched when
meeting in the passage, on the veranda, or the yard, and
sometimes in the room of his aunts’ old servant, Matrona
Pavlovna, with whom he sometimes used to drink tea, and where
Katusha used to work.
These talks in Matrona Pavlovna’s presence were the pleasantest.
When they were alone it was worse. Their eyes at once began to
say something very different and far more important than what
their mouths uttered. Their lips puckered, and they felt a kind
of dread of something that made them part quickly. These
relations continued between Nekhludoff and Katusha during the
whole time of his first visit to his aunts’. They noticed it, and
became frightened, and even wrote to Princess Elena Ivanovna,
Nekhludoff’s mother. His aunt, Mary Ivanovna, was afraid Dmitri
would form an intimacy with Katusha; but her fears were
groundless, for Nekhludoff, himself hardly conscious of it, loved
Katusha, loved her as the pure love, and therein lay his
safety—his and hers. He not only did not feel any desire to
possess her, but the very thought of it filled him with horror.
The fears of the more poetical Sophia Ivanovna, that Dmitri, with
his thoroughgoing, resolute character, having fallen in love with
a girl, might make up his mind to marry her, without considering
either her birth or her station, had more ground.
Had Nekhludoff at that time been conscious of his love for
Katusha, and especially if he had been told that he could on no
account join his life with that of a girl in her position, it
might have easily happened that, with his usual straightforwardness, he would have come to the conclusion that there
could be no possible reason for him not to marry any girl
whatever, as long as he loved her. But his aunts did not
mention their fears to him; and, when he left, he was still
unconscious of his love for Katusha. He was sure that what he
felt for Katusha was only one of the manifestations of the joy of
life that filled his whole being, and that this sweet, merry
little girl shared this joy with him. Yet, when he was going
away, and Katusha stood with his aunts in the porch, and looked
after him, her dark, slightly-squinting eyes filled with tears,
he felt, after all, that he was leaving something beautiful,
precious, something which would never reoccur. And he grew very
sad.
“Goodbye, Katusha,” he said, looking across Sophia Ivanovna’s
cap as he was getting into the trap. “Thank you for everything.”
“Goodbye, Dmitri Ivanovitch,” she said, with her pleasant,
tender voice, keeping back the tears that filled her eyes—and
ran away into the hall, where she could cry in peace.
CHAPTER XIII.
LIFE IN THE ARMY.
After that Nekhludoff did not see Katusha for more than three
years. When he saw her again he had just been promoted to the
rank of officer and was going to join his regiment. On the way he
came to spend a few days with his aunts, being now a very
different young man from the one who had spent the summer with
them three years before. He then had been an honest, unselfish
lad, ready to sacrifice himself for any good cause; now he was
depraved and selfish, and thought only of his own enjoyment. Then
God’s world seemed a mystery which he tried enthusiastically and
joyfully to solve; now everything in life seemed clear and
simple, defined by the conditions of the life he was leading.
Then he had felt the importance of, and had need of intercourse
with, nature, and with those who had lived and thought and felt
before him—philosophers and poets. What he now considered
necessary and important were human institutions and intercourse
with his comrades. Then women seemed mysterious and
charming—charming by the very mystery that enveloped them; now
the purpose of women, all women except those of his own family
and the wives of his friends, was a very definite one: women were
the best means towards an already experienced enjoyment. Then
money was not needed, and he did not require even one-third of
what his mother allowed him; but now this allowance of 1,500
roubles a month did not suffice, and he had already had some
unpleasant talks about it with his mother.
Then he had looked on his spirit as the I; now it was his healthy
strong animal I that he looked upon as himself.
And all this terrible change had come about because he had ceased
to believe himself and had taken to believing others. This he had
done because it was too difficult to live believing one’s self;
believing one’s self, one had to decide every question not in
favour of one’s own animal life, which is always seeking for easy
gratifications, but almost in every case against it. Believing
others there was nothing to decide; everything had been decided
already, and decided always in favour of the animal I and against
the spiritual. Nor was this all. Believing in his own self he was
always exposing himself to the censure of those around him;
believing others he had their approval. So, when Nekhludoff had
talked of the serious matters of life, of God, truth, riches, and
poverty, all round him thought it out of place and even rather
funny, and his mother and aunts called him, with kindly irony,
notre cher philosophe. But when he read novels, told improper
anecdotes, went to see funny vaudevilles in the French theatre
and gaily repeated the jokes, everybody admired and encouraged
him. When he considered it right to limit his needs, wore an old
overcoat, took no wine, everybody thought it strange and looked
upon it as a kind of showing off; but when he spent large sums on
hunting, or on furnishing a peculiar and luxurious study for
himself, everybody admired his taste and gave him expensive
presents to encourage his hobby. While he kept pure and meant to
remain so till he married his friends prayed for his health, and
even his mother was not grieved but rather pleased when she found
out that he had become a real man and had gained over some French
woman from his friend. (As to the episode with Katusha, the
princess could not without horror think that he might possibly
have married her.) In the same way, when Nekhludoff came of age,
and gave the small estate he had inherited from his father to the
peasants because he considered the holding of private property in
land wrong, this step filled his mother and relations with dismay
and served as an excuse for making fun of him to all his
relatives. He was continually told that these peasants, after
they had received the land, got no richer, but, on the contrary,
poorer, having opened three public-houses and left off doing any
work. But when Nekhludoff entered the Guards and spent and
gambled away so much with his aristocratic companions that Elena
Ivanovna, his mother, had to draw on her capital, she was hardly
pained, considering it quite natural and even good that wild oats
should be sown at an early age and in good company, as her son
was doing. At first Nekhludoff struggled, but all that he had
considered good while he had faith in himself was considered bad
by others, and what he had considered evil was looked upon as
good by those among whom he lived, and the struggle grew too
hard. And at last Nekhludoff gave in, i.e., left off believing
himself and began believing others. At first this giving up of
faith in himself was unpleasant, but it did not long continue to
be so. At that time he acquired the habit of smoking, and
drinking wine, and soon got over this unpleasant feeling and even
felt great relief.
Nekhludoff, with his passionate nature, gave himself thoroughly
to the new way of life so approved of by all those around, and he
entirely stifled the inner voice which demanded something
different. This began after he moved to St. Petersburg, and
reached its highest point when he entered the army.
Military life in general depraves men. It places them in
conditions of complete idleness, i.e., absence of all useful
work; frees them of their common human duties, which it replaces
by merely conventional ones to the honour of the regiment, the
uniform, the flag; and, while giving them on the one hand
absolute power over other men, also puts them into conditions of
servile obedience to those of higher rank than themselves.
But when, to the usual depraving influence of military service
with its honours, uniforms, flags, its permitted violence and
murder, there is added the depraving influence of riches and
nearness to and intercourse with members of the Imperial family,
as is the case in the chosen regiment of the Guards in which all
the officers are rich and of good family, then this depraving
influence creates in the men who succumb to it a perfect mania of
selfishness. And this mania of selfishness attacked Nekhludoff
from the moment he entered the army and began living in the way
his companions lived. He had no occupation whatever except to
dress in a uniform, splendidly made and well brushed by other
people, and, with arms also made and cleaned and handed to him by
others, ride to reviews on a fine horse which had been bred,
broken in and fed by others. There, with other men like himself,
he had to wave a sword, shoot off guns, and teach others to do
the same. He had no other work, and the highly-placed persons,
young and old, the Tsar and those near him, not only sanctioned
his occupation but praised and thanked him for it.
After this was done, it was thought important to eat, and
particularly to drink, in officers’ clubs or the salons of the
best restaurants, squandering large sums of money, which came
from some invisible source; then theatres, ballets, women, then
again riding on horseback, waving of swords and shooting, and
again the squandering of money, the wine, cards, and women. This
kind of life acts on military men even more depravingly than on
others, because if any other than a military man lead such a life
he cannot help being ashamed of it in the depth of his heart. A
military man is, on the contrary, proud of a life of this kind
especially at war time, and Nekhludoff had entered the army just
after war with the Turks had been declared. “We are prepared to
sacrifice our lives at the wars, and therefore a gay, reckless
life is not only pardonable, but absolutely necessary for us, and
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