TOLSTOY, THE APOSTLE OF LOVE.
Count Leo Tolstoy, the intellectual giant of Russia, the moral Titan
of Europe and the world's most conspicuous exponent of the doctrine
of love, is living a life of quiet retirement upon his estate near
the village of Yasnaya, Poliana, about one hundred and thirty miles
south of Moscow.
I made a visit to the home of this pleasant philosopher during my
stay in Russia, driving from Tula in the early morning and arriving
just after daylight. Consul General Smith of Moscow arranged with
Count Tolstoy for the visit. I had intended remaining only a few
hours, but his welcome was so cordial that my stay was prolonged
until near midnight. Count Tolstoy is now about seventy-six years
old, and while he shows the advance of years he is still full of
mental vigor and retains much of his physical strength. As an
illustration of the latter I might refer to the horseback ride and
walk which we took together in the afternoon. The ride covered
about four miles and the walk about two. When we reached the house
the count said that he would take a little rest and insisted that
I should do likewise. A few minutes later, when I expressed to the
count's physician, Dr. Burkenheim, the fear that he might have
overtaxed his strength, the doctor smilingly assured me that the
count usually took more exercise, but had purposely lessened his
allowance that day, fearing that he might fatigue me.
Count Tolstoy is an impressive figure. His years have only slightly
bowed his broad shoulders and his step is still alert. In height he
is about five feet eight, his head is large and his abundant hair is
not yet wholly white. His large blue eyes are set wide apart and are
shaded by heavy eyebrows. The forehead is unusually wide and high.
He wears a long, full beard that gives him a patriarchal appearance.
The mouth is large and the lips full. The nose is rather long and
the nostrils wide. The hands are muscular, and the grasp bespeaks
warmth of heart. The count dresses like the peasants of his country,
wearing a grayish-blue blouse belted in at the waist, with skirts
reaching nearly to the boot-tops. His trousers, also of the peasant
style, are inclined to be baggy and are stuffed into his boots. I
was informed that the count never wears any other dress, even when
other members of the family are entertaining guests in evening
clothes.
[Illustration: COUNT TOLSTOY.]
The room which I occupied was the one used by the count as a study
in his younger days, and I was shown a ring in the ceiling from
which at the age of forty-eight he planned to hang himself--a plan
from which he was turned by the resolve to change the manner and
purpose of his life. As is well known, Count Tolstoy is a member of
the Russian nobility and for nearly fifty years led the life of a
nobleman. He early achieved fame as a novelist, his "War and Peace,"
which was written when he was but a young man, being considered one
of the literary masterpieces of the century. He sounded all the
"depths and shoals of honor" in the literary and social world; he
realized all that one could wish or expect in these lines, but found
that success did not satisfy the cravings of the inner man. While
he was meditating upon what he had come to regard as a wasted life,
a change came over him, and with a faith that has never faltered
he turned about and entered upon a career that has been unique
in history. He donned the simple garb of a peasant, and, living
frugally, has devoted himself to philosophy and unremunerative
work--that is, unremunerative from a financial standpoint, although
he declares that it has brought him more genuine enjoyment than he
ever knew before. All of his books written since this change in
his life have been given to the public without copyright, except
in one instance, when the proceeds of "Resurrection" were pledged
to the aid of the Russian Quakers, called Doukhobors, whom the
count assisted to emigrate from their persecution in Russia to
western Canada, where they now reside. As an evidence of the count's
complete renunciation of all money considerations, it is stated that
he has declined an offer of $500,000 for the copyright of the books
written by him before his life current was altered.
My object in visiting him was not so much to learn his views--for
his opinions have had wide expression and can be found in his
numerous essays--but it was rather to see the man and ascertain if
I could, from personal contact, learn the secret of the tremendous
influence that he is exerting upon the thought of the world. I am
satisfied that, notwithstanding his great intellect, his colossal
strength lies in his heart more than in his mind. It is true that
few have equaled him in power of analysis and in clearness of
statement, while none have surpassed him in beauty and aptness of
illustration. But no one can commune with him without feeling that
the man is like an overflowing spring--asking nothing, but giving
always. He preaches self-abnegation and has demonstrated to his own
satisfaction that there is more genuine joy in living for others
than in living upon others--more happiness in serving than in being
served.
The purpose of life, as defined by him, has recently been quoted by
Mr. Ernest Crosby in "The Open Court." It reads as follows:
"Life then is the activity of the animal individuality working in
submission to the law of reason. Reason shows man that happiness
cannot be obtained by a self-life and leaves only one outlet open
for him and that is love. Love is the only legitimate manifestation
of life. It is an activity and has for its object the good of
others. When it makes its appearance the meaningless strife of the
animal life ceases." Love is the dominant note in Count Tolstoy's
philosophy. It is not only the only weapon of defense which he
recognizes, but it is the only means by which he would influence
others. It is both his shield and his sword. He is a deeply
religious man, notwithstanding the fact that he was a few years ago
excommunicated by the Russian church. In one of his essays he has
defined religion as follows:
"True religion is a relation, accordant with reason and knowledge,
which man establishes with the infinite life surrounding him, and it
is such as binds his life to that infinity, and guides his conduct."
He not only takes his stand boldly upon the side of spiritual,
as distinguished from material, philosophy, but he administers a
rebuke to those who assume that religious sentiment is an indication
of intellectual weakness or belongs to the lower stages of man's
development. In his essay on "Religion and Morality," to which he
referred me for his opinion on this subject, he says:
"Moreover, every man who has ever, even in childhood, experienced
religious feelings, knows by personal experience that it was evoked
in him, not by external, terrifying, material phenomena, but by an
inner consciousness, which had nothing to do with the fear of the
unknown forces of nature--a consciousness of his own insignificance,
loneliness and guilt. And, therefore, both by external observation
and by personal experience, man may know that religion is not the
worship of gods, evoked by superstitious fear of the invisible
forces of nature, proper to men only at a certain period of their
development; but is something quite independent either of fear or
of their degree of education--a something that cannot be destroyed
by any development of culture. For man's consciousness of his
finiteness amid an infinite universe, and of his sinfulness (i. e.,
of his not having done all he might and should have done) has always
existed and will exist as long as man remains man."
If religion is an expression of "man's consciousness of his
finiteness amid an infinite universe, and of his sinfulness," it
cannot be outgrown until one believes himself to have reached
perfection and to possess all knowledge, and observation teaches us
that those who hold this opinion of themselves are not the farthest
advanced, but simply lack that comprehension of their own ignorance
and frailty which is the very beginning of progress.
Count Tolstoy is an advocate of the doctrine of non-resistance. He
not only believes that evil can be overcome by good, but he denies
that it can be overcome in any other way. I asked him several
questions on the subject, and the following dialogue presents his
views:
Q. Do you draw any line between the use of force to avenge an injury
already received, and the use of force to protect yourself from
injury about to be inflicted?
A. No. Instead of using violence to protect myself, I ought rather
to express my sorrow that I had done anything that would make anyone
desire to injure me.
Q. Do you draw a line between the use of force to protect a right
and the use of force to create a right?
A. No. That is the excuse generally given for the use of violence.
Men insist that they are simply defending a right, when, in fact,
they are trying to secure something that they desire and to which
they are not entitled. The use of violence is not necessary to
secure one's rights; there are more effective means.
Q. Do you draw any distinction between the use of force to protect
yourself and the use of force to protect someone under your care--a
child, for instance?
A. No. As we do not attain entirely to our ideals, we might find it
difficult in such a case not to resort to the use of force, but it
would not be justifiable, and, besides, rules cannot be made for
such exceptional cases. Millions of people have been the victims of
force and have suffered because it has been thought right to employ
it; but I am now old and I have never known in all my life a single
instance in which a child was attacked in such a way that it would
have been necessary for me to use force for its protection. I prefer
to consider actual rather than imaginary cases.
I found later that this last question had been answered in a letter
on non-resistance addressed to Mr. Ernest Crosby, in 1896 (included
in a little volume of Tolstoy's Essays and Letters recently
published by Grant Richards, Leicester Square, London, and reprinted
by Funk & Wagnalls of New York). In this letter he says:
"None of us has ever yet met the imaginary robber with the imaginary
child, but all the horrors which fill the annals of history and of
our own times came and come from this one thing--that people will
believe that they can foresee the results of hypothetical future
actions."
When I visited him he was just finishing an introduction to a
biographical sketch of William Lloyd Garrison, his attention having
been called to Garrison by the latter's advocacy of the doctrine of
non-resistance.
Tolstoy, in one of his strongest essays that he has written--an
essay entitled "Industry and Idleness"--elaborates and defends the
doctrine advanced by a Russian named Bondaref, to the effect that
each individual should labor with his hands, at least to the extent
of producing his own food. I referred to this and asked him for a
brief statement of his reasons. He said that it was necessary for
one to engage in manual labor in order to keep himself in sympathy
with those who toil, and he described the process by which people
first relieve themselves of the necessity of physical exertion
and then come to look with a sort of contempt upon those who find
it necessary to work with their hands. He believes that a lack of
sympathy lies at the root of most of the injustice which men suffer
at the hands of their fellows. He holds that it is not sufficient
that one can remember a time when he earned his bread in the sweat
of his brow, but that he must continue to know what physical fatigue
means and what drudgery is, in order that he may rightly estimate
his brother and deal with him as a brother. In addition to this he
says that, when one begins to live upon the labor of others, he is
never quite sure that he is earning his living. Let me quote his
language: "If you use more than you produce you cannot be quite
content, if you are a conscientious man. Who can know how much I
work? It is impossible. A man must work as much as he can with his
hands, taking the most difficult and disagreeable tasks, that is,
if he wishes to have a quiet conscience. Mental work is much easier
than physical work, despite what is said to the contrary. No work
is too humble, too disagreeable, to do. No man ought to dodge work.
If I dodge work I feel guilty. There are some people who think they
are so precious that other people must do the dirty, disagreeable
work for them. Every man is so vain as to think his own work the
most important. That is why I try to work with my hands by the side
of workingmen. If I write a book, I cannot be quite sure whether
it will be useful or not. If I produce something that will support
life, I know that I have done something useful."
Tolstoy presents an ideal, and while he recognizes that the best
of efforts is but an approach to the ideal, he does not consent
to the lowering of the ideal itself or the defense of anything
that aims at less than the entire realization of the ideal. He is
opposed to what he calls palliatives, and insists that we need the
reformation of the individual more than the reformation of law or
government. He holds that the first thing to do is to substitute the
Christian spirit for the selfish spirit. He likens those who are
trying to make piecemeal progress to persons who are trying to push
cars along a track by putting their shoulders against the cars. He
says that they could better employ their energy by putting steam
in the engine, which would then pull the cars. And the religious
spirit he defines as "such a belief in God and such a feeling of
responsibility to God as will manifest itself both in the worship of
the Creator and in the fellowship with the created."
During the course of conversation he touched on some of the problems
with which the various nations have to deal. Of course he is opposed
to war under all circumstances, and regards the professional soldier
as laboring under a delusion. He says that soldiers, instead of
following their consciences, accept the doctrine that a soldier must
do what he is commanded to do, placing upon his superior officer
the responsibility for the command. He denies that any individual
can thus shift the responsibility for his conduct. In speaking of
soldiers, he expressed an opinion that indicates his hostility to
the whole military system. He said that soldiers insisted upon being
tried by military men and military courts, and added: "That is
amusing. I remember that when that plea was made in a case recently,
I retorted that if that was so, why was not a murderer justified
in demanding a trial at the hands of murderers, or a burglar in
demanding trial by a jury of burglars. That would be on all fours
with the other proposition."
He is not a believer in protection, and regards a tariff levied
upon all of the people for the benefit of some of the people as an
abuse of government and immoral in principle. I found that he was an
admirer of Henry George and a believer in his theory in regard to
the single tax.
He is opposed to trusts. He says that the trust is a new kind of
despotism and that it is a menace to modern society. He regards
the power that it gives men to oppress their fellows as even more
dangerous than its power to reap great profits.
He referred to some of our very rich men and declared that the
possession of great wealth was objectionable, both because of its
influence over its possessor and because of the power it gave him
over his fellows. I asked him what use a man could make of a great
fortune, and he replied: "Let him give it away to the first person
he meets. That would be better than keeping it." And then he told
how a lady of fortune once asked his advice as to what she could do
with her money (she derived her income from a large manufacturing
establishment), and he replied that if she wanted to do good with
her money she might help her work-people to return to the country,
and assist them in buying and stocking their farms. "If I do that,"
she exclaimed in dismay, "I would not have any people to work for
me, and my income would disappear."
As all are more or less creatures of environment, Tolstoy's views
upon religion have probably been colored somewhat by his experience
with the Greek church. He has, in some instances, used arguments
against the Greek church which are broad enough to apply to all
church organizations. He has not always discriminated between the
proper use of an organization and the abuse of power which a large
organization possesses. While animated by a sincere desire to
hasten the reign of universal brotherhood, and to help the world
to a realization of the central thought of Christ's teachings, he
has not, I think, fully appreciated the great aid which a church
organization can lend when properly directed. In the work in which
Tolstoy is engaged, he will find his strongest allies among church
members to whom the commandment "Thou shalt love thy neighbor as
thyself" is not merely sound philosophy, but a divine decree. These
will work in the church and through the church, while he stands
without raising his voice to the same God and calling men to the
same kind of life.
His experience with the arbitrary methods of his own government has
led him to say things that have been construed as a condemnation
of all government. He has seen so much violence and injustice done
in the name of government that it is not strange that the evils of
government should impress him more than its possibilities for good.
And yet those who believe that a just government is a blessing can
work with him in the effort to secure such remedial measures as he
asks for in his letter "To the Czar and His Assistants."
Tolstoy's career shows how despotic is the sway of the heart
and how, after all, it rules the world, for while his literary
achievements have been admired, the influence which they have
exerted is as nothing compared with the influence exerted by his
philosophy. People enjoy reading his character sketches, his
dialogues and his descriptions of Russian life, but these do not
take hold upon men like his simple presentation of the doctrine of
love, exemplified in his life as clearly as it is expressed by his
pen. Many of his utterances are denied publication in Russia, and
when printed abroad cannot be carried across the border, and yet
he has made such a powerful impression upon the world that he is
himself safe from molestation. He can say with impunity against his
government and against the Greek church what it would be perilous
for others to say, and this very security is proof positive that in
Russia thought inspired by love is, as Carlyle has declared it to be
everywhere, stronger than artillery parks.