War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy [229]
The Mason smiled his meek, fatherly smile.
“The highest wisdom and truth is like the most pure liquid, which we want to receive into ourselves,” he said. “Can I receive this pure liquid in an impure vessel and then judge its purity? Only by purifying myself inwardly can I keep the liquid I receive pure to some degree.”
“Yes, yes, that’s so!” Pierre said joyfully.
“The supreme wisdom is based not on reason alone, not on the secular sciences of physics, history, chemistry, and so on, into which rational knowledge is divided. The higher knowledge has one science—the science of the all, the science that explains the whole universe and the place man occupies in it. To contain this science, it is necessary to purify and renew one’s inner man, and thus before one can know, one must believe and perfect oneself. And to achieve that, a divine light, called conscience, has been put in our soul.”
“Yes, yes,” Pierre agreed.
“Look at your inner man with spiritual eyes and ask if you are pleased with yourself. What have you achieved, being guided by reason alone? What are you? You are young, you are rich, you are educated, my dear sir. What have you done with all these good things that have been given you? Are you content with yourself and your life?”
“No, I hate my life,” Pierre said, wincing.
“If you hate it, change it, purify yourself, and insofar as you purify yourself, you will learn wisdom. Look at your life, my dear sir. How have you been spending it? In riotous orgies and depravity, taking everything from society and giving it nothing. You received wealth. How have you used it? What have you done for your neighbor? Have you thought about the tens of thousands of your slaves, have you helped them physically and morally? No. You have used their labor in order to lead a debauched life. That is what you have done. Have you chosen some position in which you could be useful to your neighbor? No. You have been spending your life in idleness. Then, my dear sir, you married, taking upon yourself the responsibility for guiding a young woman, and what did you do? You did not help her, my dear sir, to find the path of truth, you hurled her into an abyss of deceit and misfortune. A man insulted you, and you shot him, and you say that you do not know God and hate your life. That is no wonder, my dear sir!”
After these words, the Mason, as if tired after talking for so long, again leaned back on the sofa and closed his eyes. Pierre looked at this stern, motionless, almost dead old face and moved his lips soundlessly. He wanted to say: “Yes, a loathsome, idle, depraved life,” but he dared not break the silence.
The Mason cleared his throat hoarsely, as old people do, and called for his servant.
“What about the horses?” he asked, not looking at Pierre.
“The relay has been brought,” the servant answered. “Won’t you get some rest?”
“No, tell them to harness up.”
“Can it be he’ll go away and leave me alone, without finishing what he was saying and without promising to help me?” thought Pierre, getting up and beginning to pace the room with his head lowered, glancing occasionally at the Mason. “Yes, I didn’t think about it, but I’ve led a contemptible, depraved life, and I didn’t like it or want it,” thought Pierre, “but this man knows the truth, and if he wanted, he could reveal it to me.” Pierre wanted to say that to the Mason, but did not dare. The traveler, having packed his things, was buttoning up his coat with his old, accustomed hands. When he finished, he turned to Bezukhov and said to him indifferently, in a polite tone:
“Where are you going now, my dear sir, if I may ask?”
“Me?…To Petersburg,” Pierre replied in a childish, irresolute voice. “Thank you. I agree with you in everything. But don’t think that I’m so bad. I wish with all my soul to be what you want me to be; but I’ve never found help from anybody…However, I am to blame for it all in the first place. Help me, teach me, and maybe I’ll…” Pierre could not go on; he