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WAR, PROGRESS, AND THE END OF HISTORY, INCLUDING A SHORT STORY OF THE ANTI-CHRIST: THREE DISCUSSIONS |
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III THIRD DISCUSSION Audiatur et tertia para THE THIRD DISCUSSION Audiatur et tertia pars THIS time, in accordance with the general wish, we met in the garden earlier than usual, so that we might have leisure to finish the discussion. Somehow all were in a more serious mood than yesterday. POLITICIAN (to Mr. Z.). I believe you wanted to make some statement about what I said last afternoon, did you not? MR. Z. Yes. It has to do with your definition that peaceful politics is a symptom of progress. It brought to my mind the words of a character in Tourguenev's Smoke, that "progress is a symptom." I don't know what that character meant exactly, but the literal meaning of these words is perfectly true. Progress is certainly a symptom. POLITICIAN. A symptom of what? MR. Z. "It is a pleasure to talk with clever people." [1] That is just the question to which I have been leading. I believe that progress -- a visible and accelerated progress -- is always a symptom of the end. POLITICIAN. I can understand that if we take, for instance, creeping paralysis. Its progress is a symptom of the end. But why should the progress of culture and cultured life always be a symptom of the end? MR. Z. It is not so obvious, no doubt, as in the case of paralysis, but it is so all the same. POLITICIAN. That you are certain of it is quite clear, but it is not clear to me at all what it is you are so certain of. And, to begin with, encouraged by your praise, I will again put you that simple question of mine which seemed to you so clever. You say, "a symptom of the end." The end of what, I ask you? MR. Z. Naturally the end of what we have been talking about. As you remember, we have been discussing the history of mankind, and that historical "process" which has doubtless been going on at an ever-increasing rate, and which I am certain is nearing its end.
LADY. C'est la fin du monde, n'est-ce pas? The argument is becoming a most extraordinary one! GENERAL. At last we have got to the most interesting subject. PRINCE. You will not, of course, forget Anti-Christ either. MR. Z. Certainly not. He takes the most prominent place in what I have to say. PRINCE (to Lady). Pardon me, please. I am now exceedingly busy on very urgent matters. I am very anxious to hear the discussion on this most fascinating subject, but, I am sorry to say, I must return home. GENERAL. Return home? And what about whist? POLITICIAN. I had a presentiment from the very first day that some villainy or other was being prepared. Where religion is involved, never expect any good. Tantum religio potuit suadere malorum. PRINCE. No villainy is about to be perpetrated. I will try to come back at nine o'clock, but now I positively have no time. LADY. Why this sudden urgency? How is it that you didn't inform us of those important matters before? No, I refuse to believe you. Candidly, it is Anti-Christ that has scared you, isn't it? PRINCE. I heard so frequently yesterday that politeness is everything, that under the spell of this theory I have ventured for the sake of politeness to tell a lie. Now I see that I am wrong, and I tell you frankly that though I am busy with many important matters, I am leaving this discussion mainly because I consider it a sheer waste of time to discuss things which can be of interest only to Papooses and such like. POLITICIAN. Your very polite sin is now expiated, it seems. LADY. Why get cross? If we are stupid, enlighten us. Take me, for instance. You see, I am not cross with you for having been called a Papoose. Why, even Papooses may have correct ideas. God makes infants wise. But if it is so difficult for you to hear about Anti- Christ, we'll agree on this: Your villa is only a few steps from here. You go home to your work now, and towards the end of the discussion come back -- after Anti-Christ.... PRINCE. Very well. I will come, with pleasure. (After the Prince had left the company.) GENERAL (laughing). "The cat knows whose meat he's eaten up." [2] LADY. What, you think our Prince is an Anti-Christ? GENERAL. Well, not personally, not he personally; it will be a long time before he gets as far as that. But he is on the right track, all the same. As it is said in the Gospel of St. John: "You have heard, my little ones, that Anti-Christ is coming, and there are many Anti- Christs now." So, one of these "many ..." LADY. One may find oneself amongst the "many" against one's wish. God will not punish him for that. He simply has been led astray. He knows that he will not discover his own gunpowder, whilst wearing a fashionable coat is an honour after all. It is only as if one were transferred from the Army to the Guards. For a big General it makes no difference, but for a small officer it is very flattering. POLITICIAN. The psychology is very sound. Yet I am unable to see why he should have become so angry when Anti-Christ was mentioned. Take me, for instance. I have no faith whatever in things mystical, and so it does not annoy me. On the contrary, it rather excites my curiosity from a general human standpoint: I know that for many it is something very serious; it is clear, then, that in this matter some side of human nature has found its expression, a side which is possibly atrophied in my consciousness, but which does not cease to preserve its objective interest even for me. I, for instance, am a very bad judge of paintings: I cannot draw even a straight line or a circle, nor am I able to perceive what is bad and what is good in the works of painters. Yet I am interested in the art of painting from the standpoint of general education and general aesthetics. LADY. It is difficult to be offended at such a harmless thing as art. But religion, for instance, you hate with all your heart, and only just now you quoted some Latin curse against it. POLITICIAN. A curse! Good gracious! In the words of my favourite poet Lucretius, I merely blamed religion for its bloodstained altars and the cries of the human beings sacrificed upon them. I can hear an echo of this bloodthirstiness in the gloomy-intolerant utterances of the companion who has just left us. Still, religious ideas per se interest me very much -- amongst others this idea of the "Anti-Christ." Unfortunately, all I have been able to read on this subject is confined to the book by Renan, and he considers the question only in relation to historical evidence, which in his opinion points indubitably to Nero. But this is not sufficient. We know that the idea of "Anti-Christ" was held by the Jews long before the time of Nero -- and was applied by them to the King Antiochus Epiphanes. It is still believed in by the Russian "old-believers," so there must be some truth in it, after all. GENERAL. The leisure your Excellency enjoys affords you every opportunity for the discussion of such high matters. But our poor Prince employs so much of his time in preaching evangelical morals that he is naturally prevented from pondering on Christ or Anti-Christ: even for his whist he cannot get more than three hours a day. LADY. You are very severe on him, General. It is true that all of his crowd seem unnatural, but then they look so miserable, too: you won't find in them any joy, good humour, or placidity. Yet is it not said in the Gospels that Christianity is the joy of the Holy Ghost? GENERAL. The position is, indeed, very difficult: to be lacking in Christian spirit, and yet to pass themselves off as true Christians. MR. Z. As Christians par excellence without possessing what constitutes the real excellence of Christianity. GENERAL. It seems to me that this pitiful position is just the position of Anti-Christ, which for the more clever and sensitive is made more burdensome by the knowledge they have that no luck can help them. MR. Z. In any case it is beyond doubt that the Anti-Christianity which, according to the Bible, both in the Old and the New Testaments, marks the closing scene of the tragedy of history, will be not a mere infidelity to or a denial of Christianity, or materialism or anything similar to it, but that it will be a religious imposture, when the name of Christ will be arrogated by such forces in mankind which are in practice and in their very essence alien, and even inimical, to Christ and His Spirit. GENERAL. Naturally so. The Devil would not be what he is if he played an open game! POLITICIAN. I am afraid, however, lest all the Christians should prove mere impostors, and therefore, according to you, mere Anti-Christs. The only exception will perhaps be the unconscious masses of the people, in so far as such are still existing, and a few originals like yourselves, ladies and gentlemen. In any case, there can be no doubt that the name of "Anti-Christ" justly applies to those persons, who here in France, as well as in our country, are particularly busy about Christianity, make of it their special occupation, and consider the name of Christian some sort of monopoly or privilege of their own. In our time such people fall in one of the two categories equally alien, I hope, to the spirit of Christ. They are either mad slaughterers ready to revive forthwith the terrors of the inquisition and to organise religious massacres after the style of those "pious" abbes and "brave" "Catholic" officers who recently gave vent to their feelings on the occasion of celebrating some detected swindler. [3] Or they may be the new ascetics and celibates who have discovered virtue and conscience as some new America, whilst losing at the same time their inner truthfulness and common sense. The first cause in one a moral repulsion. The second make one yawn for very boredom. GENERAL. This is quite true. Even in the past, Christianity was unintelligible to some and hateful to others. But it remained to our time to make it either repulsive or so dull that it bores men to death. I can imagine how the Devil rubbed his hands and laughed until his stomach ached when he learned of this success. Good gracious me! LADY. Well, is this Anti-Christ as you understand him? MR. Z. Oh, no! Some signs indicating his nature are given here, but he himself is still to come. LADY. Then will you explain in the simplest way possible what the matter really is? MR. Z. As to simplicity, that cannot, I am afraid, be guaranteed. It is difficult to assume true simplicity whenever you wish. But a sham, artificial, false simplicity -- nothing can be worse than that. There is an old saying which was often repeated by a friend of mine, now dead: "Many a simplicity is hurtful." LADY. This is not so simple either. GENERAL. I believe it is the same as the popular proverb: "Some simplicities are worse than thefts." MR. Z. You've guessed it! LADY. Now I understand it too. MR. Z. It is a pity, though, that one cannot explain all about Anti-Christ by proverbs. LADY. Then explain as best you can. MR. Z. Very well then. In the first place, tell me whether you recognise the existence and the power of evil in the world? LADY. One would prefer not to recognise it, but one can hardly help doing so. Death alone would make one believe it: for death is an evil one cannot escape. I verily believe that "the last enemy to be destroyed will be death" -- but before it is destroyed, it is clear that evil is not only strong in itself but even much stronger than good. MR. Z. And what is your opinion? GENERAL. I have never shut my eyes before bullets and shells, and shall certainly not do so when faced with subtle questions. Certainly, evil is as real as good. There is God, but there is the Devil also -- of course, so long as God tolerates him. POLITICIAN. As for myself, I shall abstain from a definite answer for a time. My view does not go deeply to the root of the matter, and that side of it which is clear to me I explained as best I could yesterday. But I am interested to know what other people think of it. I can understand perfectly well the Prince's mode of thought. In other words, I understand that there is no real thought in his case at all, but only a naked pretension qui ria ni rime ni raison. The positive religious view, however, is much more intelligent and more interesting. Only up to the present all my acquaintance with it was confined to its official form, which affords me very little satisfaction indeed. I should be very pleased to hear, instead of the vapourings of mealy-mouthed parsons, the natural human word. MR. Z. Of all the stars that rise on the mental horizon of a man who carefully reads our Sacred Books, I think there is none so clear, illuminating, and startling as that shining in the words, "Thinkest thou that I come to bring peace on Earth? I come not to bring peace, but a sword." He came to bring truth to the earth, and truth, like good, before everything else divides. LADY. This needs to be explained. If you are right, why is it that Christ is called the Prince of Peace, and why did He say that peacemakers will be called the children of God? MR. Z. And you are so kind that you wish me also to obtain that higher distinction by making peace between contradictory texts? LADY. I do wish it. MR. Z. Then, please note that the only way of making peace between them is by distinguishing between the good or true peace and the bad or wrong peace. This distinction was clearly pointed out by Him who brought to us the true peace and the good enmity: "My peace I leave with you, My peace I give unto you. Not as the world giveth, give I unto you." There is therefore the good peace -- the peace of Christ, resting on the division which Christ came to bring to the world, namely, the division between good and evil, between truth and untruth. There is also the bad peace -- the peace of the world which endeavours to blend or to unite together externally elements which internally are at war with one another. LADY. But how can you show the difference between the good and the bad peace? MR. Z. In very much the same way as the General did when, the other day, he remarked in a jocular way that one may have a good peace like that, for instance, concluded by the treaties of Nistadt and Kuchuk-Kainardji. Beneath this joke lies hidden a serious and significant meaning. As in the political struggle, so in the spiritual one; the good peace is that concluded when the object of the war is accomplished. LADY. And what is the object of the war between good and evil? I am not sure if it is even necessary for them to wage a war with each other, or if such a thing as an actual conflict is possible between them -- corps a corps! In the ordinary war, when one side becomes the stronger, the opposing side also looks for reinforcements, and the struggle has to be decided by pitched battles, with guns and bayonets. You will find nothing like this in the struggle between good and evil. In this struggle, when the good side becomes stronger, the bad side immediately weakens, and the struggle never leads on to a real battle. So that all this must be taken only in a metaphorical sense. Thus it is one's duty to foster the growth of good in man. Evil will then diminish as a matter of course. MR. Z. In other words, you believe that it is enough for kind people to grow still kinder, and that then wicked people would go on losing their malice until finally they become as kind as the others. LADY. I believe that is so. MR. Z. But do you know of any case when the kindness of a kind man made the wicked man also kind, or at least less wicked? LADY. No, candidly I do not. Neither have I seen or heard of such cases.... But, pardon me, is not what you have said just now similar to what you were discussing with the Prince the other day? That even Christ, however kind He was, could not convert the souls of Judas and the impenitent thief? You will not forget that the Prince has still to answer this, will you? MR. Z. Well, since I don't believe the Prince to be Anti-Christ, I have little faith in his coming, and still less in his theological presence of mind. However, in order to relieve our discussion from the burden of this unsolved question, I will state the objection which the Prince should make from his standpoint. "Why did not Christ regenerate the wicked souls of Judas and Co. by the power of His goodness?" For the simple reason, the answer would run, that it was a dark time, and only a few choice souls reached that degree of moral development which allows of an adequate response to the inner power of truth. And Judas and Co. were too "backward" for that. Furthermore, Jesus Himself said to His disciples: "Deeds which I do, you will do also, and even more than this you will do" It follows that at a higher stage of moral progress in mankind, such as is reached at the present time, the true disciples of Christ are able by the power of their kindness, and by forcibly refusing to resist evil, to perform moral miracles surpassing even those which were possible eighteen centuries ago.... GENERAL. Just a moment! If they are able to perform miracles, why don't they? Or have you seen some of these new miracles? Even now, after "eighteen centuries of moral progress in Christian consciousness," our Prince is still unable to enlighten my dark soul. Just as I was a barbarian before I met him, so I remain. I am just what I have always been. After God and Russia, what I love most is military work in general, and the artillery in particular. And in my lifetime I have met not only our Prince, but other non-resisters as well, and some perhaps even stronger than he. MR. Z. Why assume such a personal attitude? And why hold me responsible? I only produced on behalf of your absent opponent a text from the Gospels which he forgot. LADY. Now I think I must defend our poor Prince. If he wanted to be really clever, he would say to the General: "I and those whom you have found to hold my views consider ourselves to be true disciples of Christ, but only in the sense of a general trend of thought and action, and not of having any greater power of doing good. But we are certain that there are, or will shortly be somewhere, Christians more perfect than we, and they will be able to enlighten even your obscurity." MR. Z. This answer would, no doubt, be very ingenious, as it would introduce an unknown quantity. But it can hardly be called serious. Suppose they say, or should say: "We can do nothing greater than what Christ did, nothing even equal to it, nothing even which falls little short of it"? What conclusion could be drawn from this according to the rules of sound logic? GENERAL. Only one, it seems, namely, that the words of Christ: "You will do what I did, and even more than this," were addressed not to these gentlemen, but to other persons who do not resemble them in the least. LADY. Yet it is possible to imagine that some man will carry out Christ's commandment about loving his enemies and forgiving those who do wrong to him. And then he will, with the help of Christ Himself, acquire the power to convert wicked souls into good ones. MR. Z. Not so long ago an experiment was tried in this direction, and not only did it not realise its object, but it actually proved the very opposite to what you are supposing now. There lived a man whose kindness knew no bounds. He not only forgave every wrong done to him, but for every evil returned deeds of kindness. Now what do you suppose happened? Do you think he stirred the soul of his enemy and regenerated him morally? Alas! he only exasperated the evil spirit of the villain, and died miserably by his hand. LADY. What case are you talking about? What man was he? Where and when did he live? MR. Z. Not so long ago, and in St. Petersburg. I fancy I knew him. His name is M. Delarue, a court chamberlain. LADY. I have never heard of him, though I think I can count on my fingers all the leading people of the city. POLITICIAN. Neither can I recollect him. But what is the story about this chamberlain? MR. Z. It has been splendidly told in an unpublished poem by Count Alexis Tolstoy. LADY. Unpublished? Then it is sure to be a farce. What can it have to do with the serious problems we are discussing? MR. Z. I can assure you, madame, that, farcical though it is in its form, it contains a very serious story, and, what is more to the point, one true to life. At any rate, the actual relationship between kindness and wickedness in human life is portrayed in these amusing verses with a much greater skill than I could ever show in my serious prose. Moreover, I have not the slightest doubt that when the heroes of some world-wide popular novels, skillfully and seriously tilling the psychological mould, have become a mere literary recollection for book-lovers, this farce, which in an exaggerated and wildly caricatured form plumbs the very depth of the moral problem, will retain all its artistic and philosophic truth. LADY. I don't believe in your paradoxes. You are seized with the spirit of contradiction, and wilfully brave public opinion. MR. Z. I should probably have "braved" it had it really existed. Still, I am going to tell you the story of court chamberlain Delarue, since you do not know it, and I happen to remember it by heart:
LADY. Oh, how sweet it is, how sweet! I never anticipated anything so delightful! POLITICIAN. Very fine indeed. Some expressions are real metrical feats. MR. Z. But note how true to life all this is. Delarue is not a specimen of that "purified virtue" which one never meets in nature. He is a real man with all the human weaknesses. He is vain ("I am a chamberlain," he says) and fond of money (he has managed to save ten thousand pounds); whilst his fantastic immunity from the stabs of the villain's dagger is, of course, merely an obvious symbol of his infinitely good humour, invincible, even insensitive to all wrongs -- a trait also to be met with in life, though comparatively seldom. Delarue is not a personification of virtue, but a naturally kindhearted man, in whom kindness overpowered all his bad qualities, driving them to the surface of his soul and revealing them there in the form of inoffensive weaknesses. The "villain" also is not the conventional essence of vice, but the normal mixture of good and bad qualities. The evil of envy, however, rooted itself in the very depth of his soul and forced out all the good in him to the epidermis of the soul, so to speak, where the kindness became a sort of very active but superficial sentimentality. When Delarue replies to a number of offensive actions with polite words and with an invitation to tea, the villain's sentimentality is greatly moved by these acts of gentleness, and he descends to a climax of repentance. But when later the chamberlain's civility is changed into the sincere sympathy of a deeply good-natured man, who retaliates upon his enemy for the evil done, not with the seeming kindness of nice words and gestures, but by the actual good of practical help -- when, I say, Delarue shows interest in the life of his enemy, is willing to share with him his fortune, to secure for him an official post, and even to provide him with family happiness, then this real kindness, penetrating into the deeper moral strata of the villain, reveals his inner moral emptiness, and when it reaches the very bottom of his soul it arouses the slumbering crocodile of envy. It is not the kindness of Delarue that excites the envy of the villain -- as you have seen, he can also be kind, and when he cried, pitifully wringing his hands, he doubtless was conscious of this. What did excite his envy was the -- for him -- unattainable infinite vastness and simple seriousness of that kindness:
Is it not realistic? Do we not see this in everyday life? One and the same moisture of vivifying rain causes the development of healing powers in some herbs and of poison in others. In the same way, a real act of kindness, after all, only helps to develop good in the good man and evil in the evil one. If so, how can we -- have we even the right to let loose our kind sentiments without choice and distinction? Can we praise the parents for zealously watering from the good can the poisonous flowers growing in their garden, where their children play? I ask you, why was Mary ruined? GENERAL. With this I fully agree! Had Delarue given a good drubbing to the villain and chucked him out afterwards, the fellow would not have had time for fooling upstairs. MR. Z. I am prepared to admit that he had the right to sacrifice himself to his kindness. Just as in the past there were martyrs of faith, so in our time I can admit there must be martyrs of kindness. But what, I ask you, should be done with Mary? You know, she is silly and young, and cannot, nor does she wish, to prove anything by her own example. Is it possible, then, not to pity her? POLITICIAN. I suppose it is not. But I am even more sorry for the fact that Anti-Christ seems to have fled to Tambov with the villain. MR. Z. Never mind, your Excellency, we'll catch him right enough! Yesterday you were pleased to point out the meaning of history by reference to the fact that natural mankind, at first consisting of a great number of more or less savage races, alien to each other, partly ignorant of each other, partly actually engaged in mutual hostilities -- that this mankind gradually evolves from within itself its best and most educated part the civilised or European world, which ever grows and spreads until it embraces all other groups lagging behind in this historical development, and blends them into one peaceful and harmonious international whole. Establishing a permanent international peace -- such is your formula -- is it not? POLITICIAN. Yes, it is. And this formula, in its coming and not far distant realisation, will stand for a much greater achievement in the real progress of culture than it may seem to do at present. Merely reflect on what an amount of evil will die an inevitable death, and what an amount of good will appear and grow, owing to the very nature of things. What great powers will be released for productive work, what progress will be seen in science and art, industry and trade! MR. Z. And do you include in the coming achievements of culture a total extinction of diseases and death? POLITICIAN. Of course ... to some extent. Quite a good deal has already been done in the way of sanitation, hygienics, antiseptics ... organo-therapeutics ... MR. Z. Don't you think that these undeniable successes in the positive direction are fully counterbalanced by as little doubtful an increase of neuropathic and psychopathic symptoms of the degeneration that accompanies the advance of culture? POLITICIAN. What criteria have we for estimating these? MR. Z. At any rate, it is absolutely certain that though the plus may grow, the minus grows as well, and the result obtained is something very near to nil. This is so far as diseases are concerned. And as to death, it seems nothing but nil has ever been obtained in the progress of culture. POLITICIAN. But the progress of culture never sets before itself such an objective as the extinction of death. MR. Z. I know it does not. And for this reason it cannot itself be rated very high. Just suppose I know for certain that I myself and all that is dear to me are to disappear for ever. Would it not in such a case be quite immaterial to me whether somewhere in the world certain races are fighting with each other, or whether they live in peace; whether they are civilised or savage, polite or impolite? POLITICIAN. Well, it would be, no doubt, from the standpoint of pure egotism. MR. Z. Why only of egotism? Pardon me, it would be immaterial from any point of view. Death equalises everything, and in face of it egotism and altruism are equally senseless. POLITICIAN. Let it be so. But the senselessness of egotism does not prevent us from being egotists. Similarly, altruism, so far as it is possible at all, can do quite well without any good reasons, and all your argument about death does not touch it in any way. I am aware that my children and grandchildren are destined to die, but this does not interfere with my efforts to ensure their well-being just as much as if it were to be permanent. I exert myself for their benefit because, in the first place, I love them, and it gives me a moral satisfaction to devote my life to them. "I find taste in it." It is as clear as daylight. LADY. It is all right so long as everything goes right, though even then the thought of death sometimes comes to your head. But what satisfaction and what taste can you get when all sorts of mishaps begin to happen to your children? It is just like waterflowers on a quagmire: you get hold of one and go to the bottom yourself. MR. Z. Apart from this, you can and must think of your children and grandchildren, quand meme, for yourself, without solving or even attempting to solve the question whether your efforts can do them a real and final good. You take trouble about them, not for the sake of any definite object, but because you love them so dearly. A mankind which is not yet in existence cannot excite such love, and here the question put by our intellect as to the final meaning or the object of our cares acquires its full importance. If the answer to this question is death, if the final result of your progress and your culture is but the death of one and all, it is then clear that every kind of activity for the cause of progress and civilisation is for no purpose and has no sense. (Here Mr. Z. interrupted his speech, and all those present turned their heads to the gate which clicked, and for a few seconds they remained in attitudes of inquiry. There they saw the Prince, who had entered the garden and was walking with uneven steps towards them.) LADY. Oh! And we have not even started the discussion about the Anti-Christ. PRINCE. It makes no difference. I have changed my mind, as I think I should not have shown an ill-feeling to the errors of my neighbours before I had heard their plea. LADY (in a triumphant voice to the General). You see! What will you say now? GENERAL (sharply). Nothing! MR. Z. You have arrived just in time. We are discussing the question whether it is worth while to trouble about progress if we know that the end of it is always death for every man, be he a savage or the highly educated European of the future. What have your theories to say to this? PRINCE. The true Christian doctrine does not even admit of stating the question in this fashion. The solution of this problem as given in the Gospels found its most striking and forceful expression in the parable of the Husbandmen. The husbandmen came to imagine that the garden, to which they had been sent to work for their lord, was their own property; that everything that was in the garden was made for them; and that the only thing they had to do was to enjoy their life in that garden, while giving no thought to its lord, and killing everybody who dared to remind them of his existence and of their duties towards him. Like those husbandmen, so nearly all people in our time live in the absurd belief that they themselves are the lords of their life and that it has been given them for their enjoyment. The absurdity of this is obvious. For if we have been sent here, this was done at someone's behest and for some purpose. We have, however, decided that we are like mushrooms: that we were born and now live only for our own pleasure; and it is clear that it is as bad for us as it would be bad for the workman who does not carry out his master's will. But the master's will found its expression in the teaching of Christ. Let people only carry out this teaching, and the Kingdom of God will be established on earth and men will obtain the greatest good that they are capable of securing. All is in that. Seek for the Kingdom of God, and His truth and the rest will come to you of itself. We seek for the rest and do not find it; and not only do we not establish the Kingdom of God, but we actually destroy it [4] by our various States, armies, courts, universities, and factories. GENERAL (aside). Now the machine has been wound up. POLITICIAN (to the Prince). Have you finished? PRINCE. Yes, I have. POLITICIAN. I must tell you that your solution of the question seems to me absolutely incomprehensible. You seemingly argue about something, try to prove and to explain something, desire to convince us of something, and yet what you say is all a series of arbitrary and mutually disconnected statements. You say, for instance: "If we have been sent here, this was done at someone's behest and for some purpose." This seems to be your main idea. But what is it? Where did you learn that we have been sent here for a definite purpose? Who told you this? That we exist here on the earth -- this is an indisputable fact; but that our existence is some sort of ambassadorship -- this you have no ground whatever for asserting. When, for example, I was in my younger days an ambassador, I knew this for certain, as I also knew by whom and for what I was sent -- firstly, because I had incontestable documents stating it; secondly, because I had a personal audience of the late Emperor, Alexander II, and received in person instructions from his Imperial Majesty; and, thirdly, because every quarter I was paid ten thousand roubles in sterling gold. Now, if instead of all that some stranger had come up to me in the street and said that I was made an ambassador to be sent to some place, for some purpose or other -- well, I should at once have looked round to see if I could find a policeman who would protect me from a maniac, capable, perhaps, even of committing an assault on my person. As regards the present case, you will admit that you have no incontestable documents from your supposed Lord, that you have had no personal audience with Him and that no salary is being paid to you. And you call yourself an ambassador! Why, not only yourself, but even everybody in existence you have declared to be either an ambassador or a husbandman. Have you any right to make such statements? Or any ground? No, I refuse to understand it. It seems to me a kind of rhetorical improvisation tres mal inspiree d'ailleurs. LADY. Again pretending ignorance! How bad of you! You understand only too well that the Prince did not think of refuting your atheism, but simply stated the commonly accepted Christian opinion that we all depend on God and are obliged to serve Him. POLITICIAN. No, I cannot understand a service without a salary. And if it proves that the salary here is one and the same for everybody -- death, well then, I present my compliments.... LADY. But you will die in any case, and nobody will ask for your consent. POLITICIAN. It is precisely this very "in any case" that proves that life is not service, and that if no consent of mine is required for my death, just as for my birth, then I prefer to see in death and life what there is actually in them, that is a natural necessity, and not some imaginary service to some unknown master. So my conclusion is this: live, while you live, and endeavour to live in the best and most intelligent manner; and the condition of good and intelligent life is peaceful culture. However, I am of the opinion that even on the basis of the Christian doctrine the sham solution of the problem, suggested by the Prince, will not stand the slightest criticism. But let the others, more competent than myself, speak of this. GENERAL. Of course, it is not a solution at all. It is merely a verbal way of getting round the question. Just as if I took a map and, having surrounded with my pencilled battalions an enemy's pencilled fortress, imagined then that I actually took the actual fortress. Things of this kind did really happen, you know, as the popular soldiers' song tells: --
And the result of that is also known: --
PRINCE. No, it is beyond me. And is this all you can answer to what I have been saying here? GENERAL. In what you have been saying here one thing seemed to me particularly obscure -- your remarks about mushrooms, that these live for their own enjoyment. My impression has always been that they live for the enjoyment of those who like to eat mushrooms with cream or in mushroom-pies. Now, if your Kingdom of God on earth leaves death as it is, it follows then that men, quite independently of their will, live, and will live, in your Kingdom of God just like mushrooms -- and not those jolly imaginary mushrooms, but the actual ones which are cooked in a pan. The end of man in this our earthly Kingdom of God will be also to be eaten up by death. LADY. The Prince didn't say so. GENERAL. Neither so, nor otherwise. But what is the reason of such a reticence concerning the most important point? MR. Z. Before we raise this question, I would like to learn the source of this parable in which you, Prince, expressed your view. Or is it entirely your own production? PRINCE. My own production? Why, it is taken from the Gospels! MR. Z. Oh, no, no, you are surely wrong! You won't find this parable in any of the Gospels. LADY. Good gracious! What are you trying to confuse the Prince for? You know that there is a parable about husbandmen in the Gospels; surely you do. MR. Z. There is something resembling it in the external story, but entirely different in the actual events and their meaning, which is immediately thereafter pointed out. LADY. Oh, no, surely not! I think it is exactly the same parable. Oh, you are trying to be too clever, I notice -- I don't trust a single word of yours. MR. Z. There is no need for it: the book is in my pocket. (Here Mr. Z got out a small pocket edition of the Gospels and began turning over the pages.) The parable of the husbandman can be found given by three evangelists: Saints Matthew, Mark, and Luke, but all of them state it in very much the same form. It will, therefore, be sufficient to quote it from the more elaborate Gospel of St. Luke. It is in Chapter XX., in which the last sermon of Christ to the people is given. The drama was nearing its end, and it is now narrated (end of Chapter XIX. and beginning of Chapter XX.) how the enemies of Christ -- the party of chief priests and scribes made an open and decisive attack on Him, demanding publicly that He should state His authority and explain by what right and in virtue of what power He was acting. But I think I had better read it to you. (Reads) "And He taught daily in the Temple. But the chief priests and the scribes and the chief of the people sought to destroy Him. And could not find what they might do; for all the people were very attentive to hear Him. And it came to pass, that on one of those days, as He taught the people in the Temple, and preached the Gospel, the chief priests and the scribes came upon Him with the elders. And spake unto Him, saying: Tell us, by what authority doest Thou these things? or who is He that gave Thee this authority? And He answered and said unto them, I will also ask you one thing, and answer Me: The baptism of John, was it from Heaven or of men? And they reasoned with themselves, saying, If we shall say, From Heaven, He will say, Why then believed ye Him not? But and if we say, Of men, all the people will stone us; for they be persuaded that John was a prophet. And they answered, that they could not tell whence it was: And Jesus said unto them, Neither tell I you by what authority I do these things...." LADY. And why do you read all this? It was quite right of Christ not to answer when he was worried by these men. But what has it to do with the husbandmen? MR. Z. A little patience: it all leads to the same thing. Besides, you are mistaken when you say that Christ did not answer. He answered most definitely -- and even doubly: quoted such a witness of His authority as the questioners dared not reject, and next proved that they themselves had no proper authority or right over Him, as they acted only out of fear of the people, afraid for their lives, adapting themselves to the opinions of the mob. But real authority is that which does not follow others, but itself leads them forward. Fearing and obeying the people, these men revealed that the real authority had deserted them and belonged to the people. It is to these latter that Christ now addresses Himself in order to accuse them of resisting Him. In this accusation of the unworthy leaders of the Jewish nation for their resistance to the Messiah -- there lies all the story of the gospel parable of the husbandmen, as you will presently see for yourself. (Reads): " Then began He to speak to the people this parable: A certain man planted a vineyard, and let it forth to husbandmen, and went into a far country for a long time. And at the season he sent a servant to the husbandmen, that they should give him of the fruit of the vineyard: but the husbandmen beat him, and sent him away empty. And again he sent another servant, and they beat him also, and entreated him shamefully, and sent him away empty. And again he sent a third: and they wounded him also, and cast him out. Then said the lord of the vineyard, What shall I do? I will send my beloved son: it may be they will reverence him when they see him. But when the husbandmen saw him, they reasoned among themselves, saying, This is the heir: come, let us kill him, that the inheritance may be ours. So they cast him out of the vineyard, and killed him. What, therefore, shall the lord of the vineyard do unto them? He shall come and destroy these husbandmen and shall give the vineyard to others. And when they heard it, they said, God forbid. And He beheld them and said, What is this then that is written, The stone which the builders rejected, the same is become the head of the corner? Whosoever shall fall upon that stone shall be broken; but on whomsoever it shall fall, it will grind him to powder. And the chief priests and the scribes that same hour sought to lay hands on Him; for they feared the people: for they perceived that He had spoken this parable against them." About whom, then, and about what, I ask you, was the parable of the vineyard told? PRINCE. I can't understand what it is you are driving at. The Judean chief priests and scribes felt offended because they were, and knew themselves to be, the representatives of those wicked lay people of which the parable spoke. MR. Z. But of what was it they were accused in the parable? PRINCE. Of not carrying out the true teaching. POLITICIAN. I think the whole thing is clear enough. The scoundrels lived like mushrooms for their own enjoyment, smoked tobacco, drank spirits, ate slaughtered meat, and even treated their god to it: besides which, they got married, took the chair in the courts, and engaged in warfare. LADY. Do you really think that it suits your age and position to indulge in such sneering outbursts? Don't listen to him, Prince. We both want to speak seriously. Now tell me this: after all, according to the parable, the husbandmen were destroyed because they had killed the lord's son and heir -- and this is the main point in the Gospel. Why, then, do you omit it? PRINCE. I leave it out for the simple reason that it refers to the personal fate of Christ, which, naturally, has its own importance and interest, but is, after all, inessential to that which is one and the same for everybody. LADY. Which is ...? PRINCE. The carrying out of the Gospel teaching, by means of which the Kingdom of God and His justice are attained. LADY. Just one second: I feel everything is now mixed up in my head.... What is it we are talking about? Ah! (To Mr. Z.) You have the Gospel in your hand, so you will perhaps tell us what follows the parable in that particular chapter. MR. Z. (turning over the pages). It is also stated there that it is necessary that those things which be Caesar's should be rendered to Caesar; that the dead will be raised, because God is not a God of the dead, but of the living, and there is further given a proof that Christ is not David's son, but the Son of God. Then the last two verses are against the hypocrisy and vanity of the Scribes. LADY. You see, Prince, this is also a Gospel teaching; that the State should be recognised in lay matters, that we should believe in the resurrection of the dead, and that Christ is not an ordinary man, but God's Son. PRINCE. It is impossible to conclude anything from a single chapter, composed no one knows when or by whom. LADY. Oh, no! This I know even without looking up the matter in books, that not only in a single chapter, but in all the four Gospels, a great deal is said both about resurrection and about Christ's divinity -- particularly in St. John's Gospel, which is even read at funeral services. MR. Z. As to the uncertainty of the origin of the Gospels, it is now recognised, even by the liberal German critics, that all the four Gospels were composed in the time of the Apostles, that is, in the first century. POLITICIAN. Why, even the thirteenth edition of "La Vie de Jesus'' I have noticed contains a retraction of what had originally been said about the fourth gospel. MR. Z. One must not lag behind one's teachers. But the principal difficulty, Prince, is that whatever our four Gospels may be, whenever and by whomsoever they were composed, there is no other gospel extant more trustworthy and more in agreement with your teaching than this. GENERAL. Who told you it does not exist? Why, there is the fifth one, which contains nothing of Christ but the teaching -- about slaughtered meat and military service. LADY. And you also? You should be ashamed of yourself. Remember that the more you and your civil ally tease the Prince, the more support I shall give him myself. I am sure, Prince, that you want to look upon Christianity from its best side, and that your gospel, though not the same as ours, is similar to the books composed in times gone by: something like "L' Esprit de M. de Montesquieu," "L'Esprit de Fenelon," etc. In the same way, you or your teachers wanted to compose "L'esprit de l'Evangile." It is only a great pity that nobody of your persuasion has done it in a small book, which could be called "The Spirit of Christianity according to the teaching of so-and-so." You should have some sort of a catechism, so that we simple folk should not lose the thread in all your variations. One moment we are told that the whole thing is in the Sermon on the Mount; another moment that we must first of all labour in the sweat of our brow in agricultural work -- though the Gospel does not say this anywhere. Genesis does, however, in the part where it also speaks of giving birth in pains -- this, however, not being a commandment, but only a grievous necessity. Then we are told that we must give everything we have to the poor, and the next moment that we must not give anything to anybody, since money is evil, and it is bad to do evil to others, save to ourselves and our family; whilst for the rest we must work. Then again we are told to do nothing but contemplate. Yet again, that the mission of women is to give birth to as many healthy children as possible, and then suddenly that nothing of the kind is necessary. Then that we must not eat meat -- this is the first stage, and why the first nobody can tell. We must give up now spirits and smoking, now pancakes. Last comes the objection to military service -- that all evil is due to it, and that the first duty of a Christian is to refuse doing it; and whoever has not been officially recruited is, of course, holy as he is. Perhaps I am talking nonsense, but this is not my fault -- it is absolutely impossible for me to make head or tail of all this. PRINCE. I also think that we require a sensible summary of the true teaching -- I believe it is being prepared now. LADY. Before it is prepared, tell me briefly what is, in your opinion, the essence of the Gospel. PRINCE. Surely it is clear enough: it is the great principle of the non-resistance of evil by force. POLITICIAN. And how do you deduce from this the smoking? PRINCE. What smoking? POLITICIAN. Oh, dear me! I ask what connection is there between the principle of the non-resistance of evil and the rules of abstinence from tobacco, wine, meat, and amorous indulgence? PRINCE. It seems the connection is obvious: all these vicious habits stupefy the man -- stifle in him the demands of his intelligence and conscience. This is why soldiers generally go to war in a state of drunkenness. MR. Z. Particularly to an unsuccessful war. But we may leave this alone. The rule of not resisting evil has its own importance apart from the question whether it justifies ascetic life or does not. According to you, if we do not resist evil by force, evil will immediately disappear. It follows that evil exists only by our resistance or by those measures which we take against it, but has no real power of its own. Properly speaking, there is no evil existing at all, and it appears only owing to our erroneous belief that it does exist and that we begin to act in accordance with the presumption. Isn't it so? PRINCE. No doubt it is. MR. Z. But if there is no evil existing in reality how will you explain the startling failure of Christ's cause in history? From your point of view, it has, of course, proved an utter failure, so that no good results can be credited to it, whilst the harm done has undoubtedly far exceeded its good effects. PRINCE. How is that? MR. Z. A strange question to ask, to be sure! Well, if you do not understand it we will examine it in a methodical manner. You agree that Christ preached true good in a more clear, powerful, and consistent way than anybody else, didn't He? PRINCE. Yes, He did. MR. Z. And the true good is not to resist evil by force, that is to resist imaginary evil, as there is no real evil existing. PRINCE. Yes. MR. Z. Christ not only preached, but carried out to the last end the demands of this good by suffering without any resistance the torments of crucifixion. Christ, according to you, died and did not rise. Very well. Thousands of His followers suffered the same. Very well again. But now, what has been the result of it all? PRINCE. Would you like to see all these martyrs, as a reward of their deeds, crowned by angels with brilliant wreaths and reclining somewhere under the trees in Elysian gardens? MR. Z. Oh no, there is no need to take it that way. Of course we all, including yourself, I hope, wish all that is best and most pleasant to our neighbours, both living and dead. But the question is not of our wishes, but of what has actually resulted from the preaching and sacrifice of Christ and His followers. PRINCE. Resulted for whom? For themselves? MR. Z. What resulted for themselves everybody knows: a painful death. But moral heroes as they were, they willingly accepted it, not in order to get brilliant wreaths for themselves, but to secure true benefit for others, the whole of mankind. Now I ask you, what are the benefits earned by mankind through their martyrdom? In the words of an old saying, "The blood of martyrs is the seed of the Church." In point of fact, it is quite true. But your contention is that the Church has been nothing but the distortion and ruin of true Christianity, which was, as a result, entirely forgotten by mankind, so that it became necessary to restore everything from the very beginning without any guarantee for any greater success; in other words, quite hopelessly. PRINCE. Why hopelessly? MR. Z. Because you have admitted yourself that Christ and the first generations of Christians gave all their thoughts and sacrificed their lives for their cause, and if, this notwithstanding, nothing resulted from their efforts, what grounds have you then for hoping for any other result? There is only one indubitable and permanent end to all such practice of good, the same for those who initiated it, and for those who distorted and ruined it, and for those who have been restoring it. They all, according to you, died in the past, die in the present, will die in the future. And from the practice of good, the preaching of truth, nothing but death ever came, comes, or promises to come. Well, what is the meaning of it all? Isn't it strange: the non-existent evil always triumphs and the good always falls through to nothingness? LADY. Do not evil people die as well? MR. Z. Very much so. But the point is that the power of evil is only confirmed by the reign of death, whereas the power of good would, on the contrary, be disproved. Indeed, evil is obviously more powerful than good, and if the obvious is the only thing real, then you cannot but admit that the world is the work of the evil power. How some people, whilst recognising only the obvious reality, and therefore admitting the predominance of evil over good, maintain at the same time that evil does not exist, and that consequently there is no need for fighting it -- this passes my understanding, and I expect the Prince to help me in this difficulty. POLITICIAN. You had better give us first your own method of getting out of it. MR. Z. It is quite simple. Evil really exists, and it finds its expression not only in the deficiency of good, but in the positive resistance and predominance of the lower qualities over the higher ones in all the spheres of Being. There is an individual evil -- when the lower side of men, the animal and bestial passions, resist the better impulses of the soul, overpowering them, in the great majority of people. There is a social evil, when the human crowd, individually enslaved by evil, resists the salutary efforts of the few better men and eventually overpowers them. There is, lastly, a physical evil in man, when the baser material constituents of his body resist the living and enlightening power which binds them up together in a beautiful form of organism -- resist and break the form, destroying the real basis of the higher life. This is the extreme evil, called death. And had we been compelled to recognise the victory of this extreme physical evil as final and absolute, then no imaginary victories of good in the individual and social spheres could be considered real successes. Let us, indeed, imagine that a good man, say Socrates, not only triumphed over his inner forces -- the bad passions -- but also succeeded in convincing and reforming his social foes, in reconstructing the Hellenic "politeia." Now what would be the use of this ephemeral and superficial victory over evil if it is allowed finally to triumph in the deepest strata of Being over the very foundations of life? Because, both for the reformer and for the reformed there is but one end: death. By what logic would it be possible to appraise highly the moral victories of Socrates' good over the moral microbes of bad passions within him and over the social microbes of the Athenian agora, if the real victors would after all be the much worse, baser, and coarser microbes of physical decomposition? Here no moral verbiage will protect you against utter pessimism and despair. POLITICIAN. We have heard this before. What is your remedy against despair? MR. Z. Our remedy is one: actual resurrection. We know that the struggle between good and evil is not confined only to soul or society, but is carried on in the deeper spheres of the physical world. We already have recorded in the past one victory of the good power of life -- the personal resurrection of One, and we are looking forward to future victories of the congregate resurrection of all. Here even evil is given its reason or the final explanation of its existence in that it serves to enhance the triumph, realisation, and power of good: if death is more powerful than mortal life, resurrection to external life is even more powerful than both of them. The Kingdom of God is the kingdom of life triumphing through resurrection -- in which life there lies the real, actual, and final good. In this rests all the power and work of Christ, in this His real love to us and ours to Him; whereas all the other things are only the condition, the path, the preliminary steps. Without the faith in the accomplished resurrection of One, and without cherishing the future resurrection of all men, all talk of some Kingdom of God remains nothing but words, whilst in reality one finds only the Kingdom of Death. PRINCE. Why that? MR. Z. Why, because you not only admit with everybody else the fact of death as such, that is that men generally died, die, and will die, but you raise this fact to the position of an absolute law, which does not in your opinion permit of a single exception. But what should we call the world in which death forever has the force of an absolute law but the Kingdom of Death? And what is your Kingdom of God on Earth but an arbitrary and purposeless euphemism for the Kingdom of Death? POLITICIAN. I also think it is purposeless, because it is wrong to replace a known quantity by an unknown one. Nobody has seen God and nobody knows what His Kingdom may be. But we have all seen the death of men and animals, and we also know that nobody in the world can escape this supreme power of death. What is the good then of replacing this certain "a" by some unknown "x"? Nothing but confusion and temptation for the "little ones" will ever result from such a substitution. PRINCE. I don't quite understand what it is that we are talking about. Death is, of course, a very interesting phenomenon. One may perhaps call it even a law, in the sense of a phenomenon which is universal amongst earthly beings and unavoidable for any one of them. One may also speak of the absoluteness of this "law," as until now no exception has been authentically recorded. But what material vital importance can all this have for the true Christian teaching which speaks to us, through our conscience, only one thing: that is, what we must and what we must not do here and now? It is also obvious that the voice of conscience can refer only to what is in our power to do or not to do. For this reason conscience not only remains silent about death, but cannot be anything else. With all its vastness for our human, worldly feelings and desires, death is not controlled by our will, and cannot therefore have for us any moral significance. In this relation -- and, properly speaking, it is of course the only important one -- death is a fact of indifference similar, say, to bad weather. Because I recognise the unavoidable periodical existence of bad weather, and have to suffer from it to a greater or smaller extent, does it follow that for this reason I should, instead of speaking of the Kingdom of God, speak of the kingdom of bad weather? MR. Z. No, you should not; firstly, because it reigns only in St. Petersburg, and we both come here to the Mediterranean and laugh at it; and, secondly, your comparison is faulty, because even in bad weather you are able to praise God and feel yourself in His Kingdom, whilst the dead, as you know from the Bible, do not praise God. I agree for these reasons with his Excellency that it is more appropriate to call this world the Kingdom of Death than the Kingdom of God. LADY. Why are you arguing all the time about titles? It is so uninteresting. Titles, surely, matter very little. You had better tell me, Prince, what you actually understand by the Kingdom of God and His Truth. PRINCE. By this I understand the state of men when they act only in accordance with their inner conscience and thus carry out the will of God, which prescribes them nothing but pure good. MR. Z. The voice of conscience, however, speaks of performing what is due only now and here. Isn't this the view you hold? PRINCE. You are quite correct. MR. Z. But does your conscience remain silent about those wicked deeds which you may have committed in your youth in relation to people long since dead? PRINCE. In such cases the meaning of such reminders would be to warn me against repeating similar deeds now. MR. Z. Well, it is not exactly so, but we need not argue about it. I would only like to indicate another more incontestable limit of conscience. The moralists have for a long time been comparing the voice of conscience with that genius or demon which accompanied Socrates, warning him against things he should not do, but never giving a positive indication as to what he should do. Precisely the same may be said of conscience. PRINCE. How is that? Does not conscience suggest to me, say, that I should help my neighbour in case of need or danger? MR. Z. I am very glad to hear this from you. But if you examine such cases thoroughly you will see that the role of conscience even here remains purely negative: it demands from you only that you should not remain inactive or indifferent in face of your neighbour's need, but as to what and how you should do, this your conscience does not disclose. PRINCE. Naturally so, because it depends on the circumstances of the case, on my own position, and that of the neighbour whom I must help. MR. Z. Just so. But weighing and appraising these circumstances is not a matter for conscience, but for your reason. PRINCE. How can you separate reason from conscience? MR. Z. You need not separate them, but you must distinguish them. Because just in reality it sometimes happens that reason and conscience become not only separated but even opposed to each other. Should they be one and the same thing, how would it then be possible for reason to be used for acts not only foreign to morality, but positively immoral? And, you know, this does happen. Why, even help can be offered in a way that is approved by reason but is inimical to moral consciousness. For instance, I may give food and drink and show other consideration to a needy man in order only to make him an accomplice in a fraud I am preparing, or any other wicked act. PRINCE. Well, it is, of course, so elementary. But what conclusion do you deduce from it? MR. Z. The conclusion that if the voice of conscience, however important it may be for the purpose of warning and reproving you, does not at the same time give you any positive and practically definite instructions for your conduct; and if, further, our good will requires reason as a subsidiary instrument, whereas its services prove rather doubtful as it is equally ready of serving two masters, namely, good and evil, it follows from the above that for carrying out the will of God and attaining to the Kingdom of God, a third thing is necessary besides conscience and reason. PRINCE. What is it, then? MR. Z. Briefly it is the inspiration of good, or the direct and positive action of the good power itself on us and within us. With this help from above, both reason and conscience become trustworthy assistants of good, and morality itself, instead of the always doubtful "good conduct," is transformed into a real life in the good -- into an organic growth and development of the whole man -- of his internal and external self, of personality and of society, of nation and of mankind -- in order to attain to the vital unity of the risen past with the realising future in that external present of the Kingdom of God which will be, though on the earth, the new Earth, joined in love with the new Heaven. PRINCE. I have nothing to say against such poetical metaphors, but do not exactly see why men, performing the will of God according to the commandments laid down in the Gospel, are not actuated by what you call "the inspiration of good." MR. Z. They are not; not only because I do not see in their actions any signs of such an inspiration, of those free and sweeping impulses of love (God does not measure out the spirit He gives to man); nor only because I do not see that joyous and compliant peace arising from possessing those gifts, if even only primary ones, do I fail to see in you the religious inspiration, but because, properly speaking, you yourself recognise its uselessness for you. If good is confined only to carrying out the "rule," there is no room left here for inspiration. Is there? A "rule" is given once and for all, is definite and the same for everybody. He who gave that rule has been dead long since, and, according to you, has never risen to life, so that He has not for us any personal vital existence. Whilst at the same time you see the absolute, primary good, not as a father of light and life, who could breathe light and life straight into you, but as a prudent lord, who sent you, his hirelings, to do the work in his vineyard, while he himself lives somewhere abroad and sends his men to you to bring him his rent. PRINCE. We did not invent that image arbitrarily. MR. Z. No, you did not, but you do arbitrarily see in it the highest standard of relations between man and Deity, arbitrarily casting out of the Gospel that which is the most essential part of it: the reference to the son and heir, in which the true standard of relations between man and God is given. You say: the lord, the duties towards the lord, the will of the lord. But I will tell this much: so long as your lord only imposes duties on you and demands from you compliance with his will, I do not see how you can prove to me that he is a true lord and not an impostor. PRINCE. This is very funny, really! But what if I know in my conscience and reason that the lord's demands express the purest good? MR. Z. Pardon me, I am not speaking about this. I do not deny that the lord demands good from you. But how does it follow that he is good himself? PRINCE. What else could he be? MR. Z. 'Tis strange to hear it. I, on the contrary, always thought that the goodness of anybody is proved not by what he wants other people to do, but by his own acts. If this is not clear to you from the standpoint of logic, I will quote you a historical example. The Moscow Tsar, Ivan the Terrible, demanded in his well-known letter to Prince Andreas Kurbsky that the Prince should show the greatest goodness, the loftiest moral heroism, by refusing to resist force and meekly accepting the death of a martyr for the cause of truth. This lord's will was a will of good as far as its demands from the other man was concerned. However, it did not prove in the least that the lord who demanded that good was good himself. It is evident that though martyrdom for the cause of truth is of the highest moral value, this does not say anything for Ivan the Terrible, as he in that case was not a martyr, but a torturer. PRINCE. Perhaps. But what do you want to prove by this? MR. Z. Simply that until you show me the goodness of your lord in his own deeds and not in verbal precepts to his employees, I shall stick to my opinion that your distant lord, demanding good from others but doing no good himself, imposing duties but showing no love, never appearing before your eyes but living incognito somewhere abroad, is no one else but the god of this age ... GENERAL. Here it is, this damned incognito! LADY. Oh, do please say no more of this. How frightful -- the Devil must be with us! (Crosses herself?) PRINCE. One might have anticipated that all the time! MR. Z. I have no doubt, Prince, that you are genuinely erring when you take the clever impostor for real God. The cleverness of the impostor is a mitigating circumstance which greatly reduces your own guilt. I myself could not see through it at once. But now I have no doubts of any kind, so you will understand with what feeling I must look at what I consider a deceptive and seductive mask of good. LADY. Oh, how can you say this. It hurts one's feelings. PRINCE. I can assure you, madam, it has not hurt mine. The question raised here is a general one, and it presents some considerable interest. It is only strange that my opponent seems to imagine that it can be addressed only to me, and not to him as well. You demand of me that I show you the personal good deeds of my lord that would prove him to be a power of good and not of evil. Very well. But can you show any good deed of your lord which I should be unable to ascribe to mine? GENERAL. You have already heard of one such deed, by which all the rest stand. PRINCE. What is it? MR. Z. The real victory over evil in the real resurrection. Only this, I repeat, opens the real Kingdom of God, whereas without it you have only the kingdom of death and sin and their creator, the Devil. The resurrection, and not in its metaphorical, but in its literal meaning -- here is the testimony of the true God. PRINCE. Well, if you are pleased to believe in such mythology! But I ask you for facts, which could be proved, and not for your beliefs. MR. Z. Not so high up, Prince, not so high. We both start from the same belief, or, if you like, mythology, with this difference -- that I consistently carry it through to its logical end; whilst you, violating logic, arbitrarily stop at the first stage. After all, you do recognise the power of good and its coming triumph over evil, don't you? PRINCE. Most emphatically! MR. Z. But what is it: a fact or a belief? PRINCE. A reasonable belief. MR. Z. Let us see if it is so. Reason, as we have been taught at school, amongst other things demands that nothing should be accepted without sufficient grounds. Now tell me what sufficient grounds have you, whilst admitting the power that good has in the moral development and perfection of man and mankind, not to admit that power against death? PRINCE. In my opinion it is for you to answer why you attribute to good some power beyond the limits of the moral sphere. MR. Z. Oh, I can answer that. If I believe in good and its own power, whilst assuming in the very notion of good its essential and absolute superiority, then I am bound by logic to recognise that power as unlimited, and nothing can prevent me from believing in the truth of resurrection, which is historically testified. However, had you frankly told me from the beginning that Christian faith does not concern you, that the subject of it is only mythology for you, then I should naturally have refrained from that animosity to your ideas which I have been unable to conceal from you. For "fallacy and error are not debited as frauds," and to bear ill-will to people because of their mistaken theoretical notions would disclose one's possession of too feeble a mind, too weak a faith, and too wretched a heart. But everybody really religious, and thereby freed from these extremes of stupidity, cowardice, and heartlessness, must look with real good will at a straightforward, frank, in a word, honest opponent and denier of religious truths. It is so rare to meet such a one in our time, and it is even difficult for me to describe to you how greatly I am pleased when I see an open enemy of Christianity. In nearly everyone of them I am inclined to see a future St. Paul, whilst in some of the zealots of Christianity there seem to be looming Judas, the traitor himself. But you, Prince, have now stated your opinion so frankly that I positively refuse to include you amongst the innumerable Judases and little Judases of our time. I can even foresee the moment when I shall feel towards you the same kind disposition of humour which I experience when meeting out-and-out atheists and infidels. POLITICIAN. Now that we have safely come to the conclusion that neither those atheists and infidels, nor such "true " Christians as our Prince, represent the Anti-Christ, it is time for you to show us his real portrait. MR. Z. You want rather too much, your Excellency. Are you satisfied, for instance, with a single one of all the innumerable portraits of Christ which, you will admit, have sometimes been made even by artists of genius? Personally, I don't know of a single satisfactory portrait. I believe such is even impossible, for Christ is an individual, unique in His own kind and in the personification of His essence -- good. To paint it, a genius will not suffice. The same, moreover, has to be said about Anti-Christ: he is also an individual, singular in completeness and finish, a personification of evil. It is impossible to show his portrait. In Church literature we find only his passport with a description of his general and some special marks ... LADY. No; we do not want his portrait, God save us! You had better explain why he himself is wanted, what his mission is, and when he will come. MR. Z. Well, in this respect I can satisfy you even better than you expect. Some few years ago a fellow-student from the Church Academy, later made a monk, on his death-bed bequeathed to me a manuscript which he valued very much, but did not wish, or was not able, to publish. It was entitled, "A Short Story of the Anti-Christ." Though dressed in the form of fiction, as an imaginary forecast of the historical future, this paper, in my opinion, gives all that could be said on this subject in accordance with the Bible, with Church tradition, and the dictates of sound sense. POLITICIAN. Is it the work of our old friend Monk Barsanophius? MR. Z. No; this one's name was even more exquisite: Pansophius, he was called. POLITICIAN. Pan Sophius? Was he a Pole? MR. Z. Not in the least. A son of a Russian parson. If you will permit me to go upstairs to my room I will fetch the manuscript and then read it to you. LADY. Make haste, make haste! See that you don't get lost! (While Mr. Z. was out, the company left their seats and walked in the garden?) POLITICIAN. I wonder what it may be: is it my eyesight that is getting weak, or is something taking place in nature? I notice that in no season, in no place, does one see those bright clear days which formerly used to be met with in every climate. Take to-day: there is not a single cloud, and we are far from the sea, and yet everything seems to be tinged with something subtle and imperceptible, which, though small, destroys the full clearness of things. Do you notice this, General? GENERAL. It is many a year since I began to notice it. LADY. Last year I also began to notice, and not only in the air, but in the soul as well, that even there the "full clearness," as you style it, is no longer to be found. All is seized with some uneasiness and some ill-omened presentiment. I am sure, Prince, you feel it too. PRINCE. No; I haven't noticed anything particular: the air seems to be as usual. GENERAL. You are still too young to notice the difference, for you have nothing to compare with. But when one remembers the 'fifties one begins to feel it. PRINCE. I think the explanation first suggested was the correct one: it is a matter of weak eyesight. POLITICIAN. It is hardly open to argument that we are ever growing older. But neither is the earth getting younger, so that our mutual fatigue now begins to show itself. GENERAL. I think it is even more likely that the Devil, with his tail, is spreading fog over the world. Another sign of the Anti-Christ! LADY (pointing to Mr. Z., who was coming down from the terrace). We shall learn something about this presently. (All took their seats, and Mr. Z. began to read his manuscript.) _______________ Notes: 1. A Russian proverb. (Translator.) 2. A Russian proverb. (Translator.) 3. The Politician obviously refers here to the public subscription opened in commemoration of the "suicide" Henry, in which one French officer stated that he subscribes in the hope of seeing a new St. Bartholomew massacre; another officer wrote that he was looking forward to an early execution of all Protestants, Freemasons, and Jews, whilst an abbe confessed that he lived by anticipation of that glorious time when the skin stripped off the Huguenots, the Masons, and the Jews will be used for making cheap carpets, and when he will, as a good Christian, always tread such a carpet with his feet. These statements, amongst tens of thousands of others in a similar vein, were published in the paper, La Libre Parole. (Author.) 4. Quotation from Tolstoy. (Translator.)
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