Kabanata Kabanata 96 · 第96章

In the evening Andrew and Pierre got into the open carriage and drove to

Bald Hills. Prince Andrew, glancing at Pierre, broke the silence now and

then with remarks which showed that he was in a good temper.

Pointing to the fields, he spoke of the improvements he was making in

his husbandry.

Pierre remained gloomily silent, answering in monosyllables and

apparently immersed in his own thoughts.

He was thinking that Prince Andrew was unhappy, had gone astray, did not

see the true light, and that he, Pierre, ought to aid, enlighten, and

raise him. But as soon as he thought of what he should say, he felt that

Prince Andrew with one word, one argument, would upset all his teaching,

and he shrank from beginning, afraid of exposing to possible ridicule

what to him was precious and sacred.

“No, but why do you think so?” Pierre suddenly began, lowering his

head and looking like a bull about to charge, “why do you think so?

You should not think so.”

“Think? What about?” asked Prince Andrew with surprise.

“About life, about man’s destiny. It can’t be so. I myself thought

like that, and do you know what saved me? Freemasonry! No, don’t

smile. Freemasonry is not a religious ceremonial sect, as I thought

it was: Freemasonry is the best expression of the best, the eternal,

aspects of humanity.”

And he began to explain Freemasonry as he understood it to Prince

Andrew. He said that Freemasonry is the teaching of Christianity freed

from the bonds of State and Church, a teaching of equality, brotherhood,

and love.

“Only our holy brotherhood has the real meaning of life, all the rest

is a dream,” said Pierre. “Understand, my dear fellow, that outside

this union all is filled with deceit and falsehood and I agree with you

that nothing is left for an intelligent and good man but to live out

his life, like you, merely trying not to harm others. But make our

fundamental convictions your own, join our brotherhood, give yourself up

to us, let yourself be guided, and you will at once feel yourself, as I

have felt myself, a part of that vast invisible chain the beginning of

which is hidden in heaven,” said Pierre.

Prince Andrew, looking straight in front of him, listened in silence to

Pierre’s words. More than once, when the noise of the wheels prevented

his catching what Pierre said, he asked him to repeat it, and by the

peculiar glow that came into Prince Andrew’s eyes and by his silence,

Pierre saw that his words were not in vain and that Prince Andrew would

not interrupt him or laugh at what he said.

They reached a river that had overflowed its banks and which they had to

cross by ferry. While the carriage and horses were being placed on it,

they also stepped on the raft.

Prince Andrew, leaning his arms on the raft railing, gazed silently at

the flooding waters glittering in the setting sun.

“Well, what do you think about it?” Pierre asked. “Why are you

silent?”

“What do I think about it? I am listening to you. It’s all very

well.... You say: join our brotherhood and we will show you the aim of

life, the destiny of man, and the laws which govern the world. But who

are we? Men. How is it you know everything? Why do I alone not see what

you see? You see a reign of goodness and truth on earth, but I don’t

see it.”

Pierre interrupted him.

“Do you believe in a future life?” he asked.

“A future life?” Prince Andrew repeated, but Pierre, giving him no

time to reply, took the repetition for a denial, the more readily as he

knew Prince Andrew’s former atheistic convictions.

“You say you can’t see a reign of goodness and truth on earth. Nor

could I, and it cannot be seen if one looks on our life here as the end

of everything. On earth, here on this earth” (Pierre pointed to

the fields), “there is no truth, all is false and evil; but in the

universe, in the whole universe there is a kingdom of truth, and we who

are now the children of earth are—eternally—children of the

whole universe. Don’t I feel in my soul that I am part of this vast

harmonious whole? Don’t I feel that I form one link, one step, between

the lower and higher beings, in this vast harmonious multitude of

beings in whom the Deity—the Supreme Power if you prefer the term—is

manifest? If I see, clearly see, that ladder leading from plant to man,

why should I suppose it breaks off at me and does not go farther and

farther? I feel that I cannot vanish, since nothing vanishes in this

world, but that I shall always exist and always have existed. I feel

that beyond me and above me there are spirits, and that in this world

there is truth.”

“Yes, that is Herder’s theory,” said Prince Andrew, “but it is

not that which can convince me, dear friend—life and death are what

convince. What convinces is when one sees a being dear to one, bound

up with one’s own life, before whom one was to blame and had hoped to

make it right” (Prince Andrew’s voice trembled and he turned away),

“and suddenly that being is seized with pain, suffers, and ceases to

exist.... Why? It cannot be that there is no answer. And I believe there

is.... That’s what convinces, that is what has convinced me,” said

Prince Andrew.

“Yes, yes, of course,” said Pierre, “isn’t that what I’m

saying?”

“No. All I say is that it is not argument that convinces me of the

necessity of a future life, but this: when you go hand in hand with

someone and all at once that person vanishes there, into nowhere, and

you yourself are left facing that abyss, and look in. And I have looked

in....”

“Well, that’s it then! You know that there is a there and there is a

Someone? There is the future life. The Someone is—God.”

Prince Andrew did not reply. The carriage and horses had long since been

taken off, onto the farther bank, and reharnessed. The sun had sunk half

below the horizon and an evening frost was starring the puddles near

the ferry, but Pierre and Andrew, to the astonishment of the footmen,

coachmen, and ferrymen, still stood on the raft and talked.

“If there is a God and future life, there is truth and good, and

man’s highest happiness consists in striving to attain them. We must

live, we must love, and we must believe that we live not only today on

this scrap of earth, but have lived and shall live forever, there, in

the Whole,” said Pierre, and he pointed to the sky.

Prince Andrew stood leaning on the railing of the raft listening to

Pierre, and he gazed with his eyes fixed on the red reflection of the

sun gleaming on the blue waters. There was perfect stillness. Pierre

became silent. The raft had long since stopped and only the waves of the

current beat softly against it below. Prince Andrew felt as if the sound

of the waves kept up a refrain to Pierre’s words, whispering:

“It is true, believe it.”

He sighed, and glanced with a radiant, childlike, tender look at

Pierre’s face, flushed and rapturous, but yet shy before his superior

friend.

“Yes, if it only were so!” said Prince Andrew. “However, it is

time to get on,” he added, and, stepping off the raft, he looked up

at the sky to which Pierre had pointed, and for the first time since

Austerlitz saw that high, everlasting sky he had seen while lying on

that battlefield; and something that had long been slumbering, something

that was best within him, suddenly awoke, joyful and youthful, in his

soul. It vanished as soon as he returned to the customary conditions

of his life, but he knew that this feeling which he did not know how to

develop existed within him. His meeting with Pierre formed an epoch in

Prince Andrew’s life. Though outwardly he continued to live in the

same old way, inwardly he began a new life.