A CONFESSION [4]
striving after perfection in which I believed, for I found the same
faith among them. That faith took with me the common form it
assumes with the majority of educated people of our day. It was
expressed by the word "progress". It then appeared to me that this
word meant something. I did not as yet understand that, being
tormented (like every vital man) by the question how it is best for
me to live, in my answer, "Live in conformity with progress", I was
like a man in a boat who when carried along by wind and waves
should reply to what for him is the chief and only question.
"whither to steer", by saying, "We are being carried somewhere".
I did not then notice this. Only occasionally -- not by
reason but by instinct -- I revolted against this superstition so
common in our day, by which people hide from themselves their lack
of understanding of life....So, for instance, during my stay in
Paris, the sight of an execution revealed to me the instability of
my superstitious belief in progress. When I saw the head part from
the body and how they thumped separately into the box, I
understood, not with my mind but with my whole being, that no
theory of the reasonableness of our present progress could justify
this deed; and that though everybody from the creation of the world
had held it to be necessary, on whatever theory, I knew it to be
unnecessary and bad; and therefore the arbiter of what is good and
evil is not what people say and do, nor is it progress, but it is
my heart and I. Another instance of a realization that the
superstitious belief in progress is insufficient as a guide to
life, was my brother's death. Wise, good, serious, he fell ill
while still a young man, suffered for more than a year, and died
painfully, not understanding why he had lived and still less why he
had to die. No theories could give me, or him, any reply to these
questions during his slow and painful dying. But these were only
rare instances of doubt, and I actually continued to live
professing a faith only in progress. "Everything evolves and I
evolve with it: and why it is that I evolve with all things will
be known some day." So I ought to have formulated my faith at that
time.
On returning from abroad I settled in the country and chanced
to occupy myself with peasant schools. This work was particularly
to my taste because in it I had not to face the falsity which had
become obvious to me and stared me in the face when I tried to
teach people by literary means. Here also I acted in the name of
progress, but I already regarded progress itself critically. I
said to myself: "In some of its developments progress has
proceeded wrongly, and with primitive peasant children one must
deal in a spirit of perfect freedom, letting them choose what path
of progress they please." In reality I was ever revolving round
one and the same insoluble problem, which was: How to teach
without knowing what to teach. In the higher spheres of literary
activity I had realized that one could not teach without knowing
what, for I saw that people all taught differently, and by
quarrelling among themselves only succeeded in hiding their
ignorance from one another. But here, with peasant children, I
thought to evade this difficulty by letting them learn what they
liked. It amuses me now when I remember how I shuffled in trying
to satisfy my desire to teach, while in the depth of my soul I knew
very well that I could not teach anything needful for I did not
know what was needful. After spending a year at school work I went
abroad a second time to discover how to teach others while myself
knowing nothing.
And it seemed to me that I had learnt this aborad, and in the
year of the peasants' emancipation (1861) I returned to Russia
armed with all this wisdom, and having become an Arbiter [Footnote:
To keep peace between peasants and owners.--A.M.] I began to teach,
both the uneducated peasants in schools and the educated classes
through a magazine I published. Things