The young man was ugly, and knew it. But he said to himself:
"I am clever, am I not? I will become a sage. It is an easy matter here
in Russia."
He began to read bulky works, for he was by no means stupid: he
understood that the presence of wisdom can most easily be proved by
quotations from books.
Having read as many wise books as were necessary to make him
short-sighted, he proudly held up his nose, which had become red from
the weight of the spectacles, and declared to the world at large:
"Well, you won't deceive me. I see that life is a trap, put here for me
by nature."
"And love?" asked the Spirit of Life.
"No, I thank you. Praise be to God, I am not a poet. I will not enter
the iron cage of inevitable duties for the sake of a piece of cheese."
But he was only moderately talented, and so he decided to take up the
duties of a professor of philosophy.
He went to the Minister of Popular Education and said to him:
"Your Excellency, I can preach that life is meaningless, and that one
should not submit to the dictates of nature."
The Minister considered a while whether that would do, then asked:
"Should the orders of the authorities be obeyed?"
"Most decidedly," said the philosopher, reverently inclining his head,
which the study of so many books had rendered bald. "Since human
passions----"
"Very well, you may have the chair. Your salary will be sixteen roubles
a month. But should I require you to take into consideration the laws
of nature, take care, have no opinions of your own. I shall not put up
with that."
After thinking for some moments the Minister added, in a melancholy
voice: "We live at a time when, for the sake of the unity of the state,
it will perhaps be necessary to recognise that the laws of nature not
only exist, but that they may to a certain extent prove useful."
"Just think of it!" exclaimed the philosopher to himself. "Even I may
live to see it." But aloud he said nothing.
So he settled down to his work: every week he ascended the rostrum and
spoke for an hour to curly-headed youths in this strain:
"Gentlemen, man is limited from without, he is limited from within.
Nature is antagonistic to him. Woman is a blind tool of Nature. All our
life, therefore, is meaningless."
He had grown accustomed to think like this himself, and often in his
enthusiasm he spoke eloquently and well. The young students were
enthusiastic in their applause. He, pleased with himself, nodded
his bald head and smiled at them kindly. His little nose shone, and
everything went on smoothly.
Dining at a restaurant disagreed with him--like all pessimists he
suffered from indigestion--so he got married and ate his dinners at
home for twenty-nine years. In between his work--he had not noticed
how--he brought up four children. Then he died.
Behind his coffin solemnly walked his three grief-stricken daughters
with their young husbands, and his son, a poet, who was in love with
all the beautiful women in the world. The students sang: "Eternal
Memory." They sang loudly and with animation, but badly. Over his grave
his colleagues, the professors, made flowery speeches, referring to
the well-ordered metaphysics of the departed; everything was done in
correct style; it was solemn, and at times even touching.
"Well, the old man is dead," said a student to his comrades as they
were leaving the cemetery.
"He was a pessimist," chimed in another.
A third one asked:
"Is that so?"
"Yes, a pessimist and a conservative." "What, the bald-headed one was?
I had not noticed it."
The fourth student was a poor man, and he inquired expectantly:
"Shall we be invited to the obituary feast?"
Yes, they had been invited.
During his lifetime the deceased had written a number of excellent
books, in which he proved, in glowing and beautiful language, the
vanity of life. Needless to say, the books were bought and read with
pleasure. Whatever may be said to the contrary, man likes what is
beautiful.
His family was well provided for--even pessimism can achieve that.
The obituary feast was arranged on a large scale. The poor student had
a good meal, such as he seldom had, and as he went home he thought,
smiling good-humouredly:
"Well, even pessimism is useful at times."