Resurrection - Leo Nikoleyevich Tolstoy (interesting novels in english .TXT) 📗
- Author: Leo Nikoleyevich Tolstoy
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This devoted love of Katusha touched Mary Pavlovna in her turn,
and she learned to love Katusha.
These women were also united by the repulsion they both felt to
sexual love. The one loathed that kind of love, having
experienced all its horrors, the other, never having experienced
it, looked on it as something incomprehensible and at the same
time as something repugnant and offensive to human dignity.
CHAPTER IV.
SIMONSON.
Mary Pavlovna’s influence was one that Maslova submitted to
because she loved Mary Pavlovna. Simonson influenced her because
he loved her.
Everybody lives and acts partly according to his own, partly
according to other people’s, ideas. This is what constitutes one
of the great differences among men. To some, thinking is a kind
of mental game; they treat their reason as if it were a fly-wheel
without a connecting strap, and are guided in their actions by
other people’s ideas, by custom or laws; while others look upon
their own ideas as the chief motive power of all their actions,
and always listen to the dictates of their own reason and submit
to it, accepting other people’s opinions only on rare occasions
and after weighing them critically. Simonson was a man of the
latter sort; he settled and verified everything according to his
own reason and acted on the decisions he arrived at. When a
schoolboy he made up his mind that his father’s income, made as a
paymaster in government office was dishonestly gained, and he
told his father that it ought to be given to the people. When his
father, instead of listening to him, gave him a scolding, he left
his father’s house and would not make use of his father’s means.
Having come to the conclusion that all the existing misery was a
result of the people’s ignorance, he joined the socialists, who
carried on propaganda among the people, as soon as he left the
university and got a place as a village schoolmaster. He taught
and explained to his pupils and to the peasants what he
considered to be just, and openly blamed what he thought unjust.
He was arrested and tried. During his trial he determined to tell
his judges that his was a just cause, for which he ought not to
be tried or punished. When the judges paid no heed to his words,
but went on with the trial, he decided not to answer them and
kept resolutely silent when they questioned him. He was exiled to
the Government of Archangel. There he formulated a religious
teaching which was founded on the theory that everything in the
world was alive, that nothing is lifeless, and that all the
objects we consider to be without life or inorganic are only
parts of an enormous organic body which we cannot compass. A
man’s task is to sustain the life of that huge organism and all
its animate parts. Therefore he was against war, capital
punishment and every kind of killing, not only of human beings,
but also of animals. Concerning marriage, too, he had a peculiar
idea of his own; he thought that increase was a lower function of
man, the highest function being to serve the already existing
lives. He found a confirmation of his theory in the fact that
there were phacocytes in the blood. Celibates, according to his
opinion, were the same as phacocytes, their function being to
help the weak and the sickly particles of the organism. From the
moment he came to this conclusion he began to consider himself as
well as Mary Pavlovna as phacocytes, and to live accordingly,
though as a youth he had been addicted to vice. His love for
Katusha did not infringe this conception, because he loved her
platonically, and such love he considered could not hinder his
activity as a phacocytes, but acted, on the contrary, as an
inspiration.
Not only moral, but also most practical questions he decided in
his own way. He applied a theory of his own to all practical
business, had rules relating to the number of hours for rest and
for work, to the kind of food to eat, the way to dress, to heat
and light up the rooms. With all this Simonson was very shy and
modest; and yet when he had once made up his mind nothing could
make him waver. And this man had a decided influence on Maslova
through his love for her. With a woman’s instinct Maslova very
soon found out that he loved her. And the fact that she could
awaken love in a man of that kind raised her in her own
estimation. It was Nekhludoff’s magnanimity and what had been in
the past that made him offer to marry her, but Simonson loved her
such as she was now, loved her simply because of the love he bore
her. And she felt that Simonson considered her to be an
exceptional woman, having peculiarly high moral qualities. She
did not quite know what the qualities he attributed to her were,
but in order to be on the safe side and that he should not be
disappointed in her, she tried with all her might to awaken in
herself all the highest qualities she could conceive, and she
tried to be as good as possible. This had begun while they were
still in prison, when on a common visiting day she had noticed
his kindly dark blue eyes gazing fixedly at her from under his
projecting brow. Even then she had noticed that this was a
peculiar man, and that he was looking at her in a peculiar
manner, and had also noticed the striking combination of
sternness—the unruly hair and the frowning forehead gave him
this appearance—with the childlike kindness and innocence of
his look. She saw him again in Tomsk, where she joined the
political prisoners. Though they had not uttered a word, their
looks told plainly that they had understood one another. Even
after that they had had no serious conversation with each other,
but Maslova felt that when he spoke in her presence his words
were addressed to her, and that he spoke for her sake, trying to
express himself as plainly as he could; but it was when he
started walking with the criminal prisoners that they grew
specially near to one another.
CHAPTER V.
THE POLITICAL PRISONERS.
Until they left Perm Nekhludoff only twice managed to see
Katusha, once in Nijni, before the prisoners were embarked on a
barge surrounded with a wire netting, and again in Perm in the
prison office. At both these interviews he found her reserved and
unkind. She answered his questions as to whether she was in want
of anything, and whether she was comfortable, evasively and
bashfully, and, as he thought, with the same feeling of hostile
reproach which she had shown several times before. Her depressed
state of mind, which was only the result of the molestations from
the men that she was undergoing at the time, tormented
Nekhludoff. He feared lest, influenced by the hard and degrading
circumstances in which she was placed on the journey, she should
again get into that state of despair and discord with her own
self which formerly made her irritable with him, and which had
caused her to drink and smoke excessively to gain oblivion. But
he was unable to help her in any way during this part of the
journey, as it was impossible for him to be with her. It was only
when she joined the political prisoners that he saw how unfounded
his fears were, and at each interview he noticed that inner
change he so strongly desired to see in her becoming more and
more marked. The first time they met in Tomsk she was again just
as she had been when leaving Moscow. She did not frown or become
confused when she saw him, but met him joyfully and simply,
thanking him for what he had done for her, especially for
bringing her among the people with whom she now was.
After two months’ marching with the gang, the change that had
taken place within her became noticeable in her appearance. She
grew sunburned and thinner, and seemed older; wrinkles appeared
on her temples and round her mouth. She had no ringlets on her
forehead now, and her hair was covered with the kerchief; in the
way it was arranged, as well as in her dress and her manners,
there was no trace of coquetry left. And this change, which had
taken place and was still progressing in her, made Nekhludoff
very happy.
He felt for her something he had never experienced before. This
feeling had nothing in common with his first poetic love for her,
and even less with the sensual love that had followed, nor even
with the satisfaction of a duty fulfilled, not unmixed with
self-admiration, with which he decided to marry her after the
trial. The present feeling was simply one of pity and tenderness.
He had felt it when he met her in prison for the first time, and
then again when, after conquering his repugnance, he forgave her
the imagined intrigue with the medical assistant in the hospital
(the injustice done her had since been discovered); it was the
same feeling he now had, only with this difference, that formerly
it was momentary, and that now it had become permanent. Whatever
he was doing, whatever he was thinking now, a feeling of pity and
tenderness dwelt with him, and not only pity and tenderness for
her, but for everybody. This feeling seemed to have opened the
floodgates of love, which had found no outlet in Nekhludoff’s
soul, and the love now flowed out to every one he met.
During this journey Nekhludoff’s feelings were so stimulated that
he could not help being attentive and considerate to everybody,
from the coachman and the convoy soldiers to the prison
inspectors and governors whom he had to deal with. Now that
Maslova was among the political prisoners, Nekhludoff could not
help becoming acquainted with many of them, first in
Ekaterinburg, where they had a good deal of freedom and were kept
altogether in a large cell, and then on the road when Maslova was
marching with three of the men and four of the women. Coming in
contact with political exiles in this way made Nekhludoff
completely change his mind concerning them.
From the very beginning of the revolutionary movement in Russia,
but especially since that first of March, when Alexander II was
murdered, Nekhludoff regarded the revolutionists with dislike and
contempt. He was repulsed by the cruelty and secrecy of the
methods they employed in their struggles against the government,
especially the cruel murders they committed, and their arrogance
also disgusted him. But having learned more intimately to know
them and all they had suffered at the hands of the government, he
saw that they could not be other than they were.
Terrible and endless as were the torments which were inflicted on
the criminals, there was at least some semblance of justice shown
them before and after they were sentenced, but in the case of the
political prisoners there was not even that semblance, as
Nekhludoff saw in the case of Sholostova and that of many and
many of his new acquaintances. These people were dealt with like
fish caught with a net; everything that gets into the nets is
pulled ashore, and then the big fish which are required are
sorted out and the little ones are left to perish unheeded on the
shore. Having captured hundreds that were evidently guiltless,
and that could not be dangerous to the government, they left them
imprisoned for years, where they became consumptive, went out of
their minds or committed suicide, and kept them only because they
had no inducement to set them free, while they might
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