War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy [233]
“Seventh,” said the rhetor, “try by frequent thoughts of death to bring yourself to the point where it no longer seems a fearsome enemy to you, but a friend…who delivers the soul grown weary in the labors of virtue from this calamitous life and leads it to the place of recompense and peace.”
“Yes, that should be so,” thought Pierre, when, after these words, the rhetor went away again, leaving him to his solitary reflections. “That should be so, but I’m still so weak that I love my life, the meaning of which is only now being gradually revealed to me.” But he did feel in his soul the other five virtues that he remembered, counting them on his fingers: courage, and generosity, and good morals, and love of mankind, and especially obedience, which even seemed to him not a virtue, but happiness itself. (It was so joyful for him now to be delivered of his arbitrariness and submit his will to a person or persons who knew the unquestionable truth.) Pierre forgot the seventh virtue and simply could not recall what it was.
The third time the rhetor came back sooner and asked Pierre whether he was still firm in his intention and was determined to submit himself to everything that was demanded of him.
“I’m ready for everything,” said Pierre.
“I must also inform you,” said the rhetor, “that our order conveys its teaching not only by words, but by other means which affect the true seeker of wisdom and virtue perhaps even more strongly than verbal explanations. This temple, with its decorations, which you see, must already have explained to your heart, if it is sincere, more than words can do; you will see, perhaps, during your further initiation, a similar means of explanation. Our order imitates ancient societies, which revealed their teaching through hieroglyphics. A hieroglyph,” said the rhetor, “is the designation of something not subject to the senses, which contains in itself qualities similar to what it is imaging.”
Pierre knew very well what a hieroglyph was, but did not dare speak. He listened silently to the rhetor, feeling from it all that the testing was about to begin.
“If you are firm, then I must commence your induction,” said the rhetor, coming closer to Pierre. “As a sign of generosity, I ask you to give me all your valuables.”
“But I have nothing with me,” said Pierre, thinking that he was being asked to hand over everything he owned.
“That is, what you have with you: a watch, money, rings…”
Pierre hurriedly took out his purse, his watch, but for a long time could not get the wedding ring off his fat finger. When that was done, the Mason said:
“As a sign of obedience, I ask you to undress.” Pierre took off his tailcoat, his waistcoat, and his left boot, as the rhetor directed. The Mason opened his shirt on his left breast and, bending down, pulled up his left trouser leg above the knee. Pierre wanted hurriedly to take off his right boot and pull up his trouser, to spare the stranger the effort, but the Mason said there was no need for that and handed him a slipper for his left foot. With a childish smile of embarrassment, doubt, and self-mockery, which came to his face against his will, Pierre stood with lowered arms and straddled legs before his brother rhetor, waiting for new orders from him.
“And, finally, as a sign of openheartedness, I ask you to reveal to me your main predilection,” he said.
“My predilection! I had so many,” said Pierre.
“The predilection which, more than all others, made you vacillate on the path of virtue,” said the Mason.
Pierre paused, searching.
“Wine? Gluttony? Idleness? Laziness? Hot temper? Anger? Women?” he went through his vices, weighing them mentally, and did not know which to give preference to.
“Women,” Pierre said in a low, barely audible voice. The Mason did not stir and did not speak for a long time after this reply. At last he moved towards Pierre, took the cloth that was lying on the table, and again blindfolded him.
“I tell you for the last time: turn all your attention to yourself, lay chains upon your feelings, and seek blessedness not in passions, but in