Anna Karenina (Dole)/Part Eight/Chapter 10

by Leo Tolstoy

CHAPTER X

When Levin puzzled over what he was, and why he was born, he found no answer, and fell into despair; but when he ceased to ask himself these questions, he seemed to know what he was and why he was alive, for the very reason that he resolutely and definitely lived and worked; even during the more recent months he had lived far more strenuously and resolutely than ever before.

Toward the end of June he returned to the country and resumed his ordinary work at Pokrovskoye. The superintendence of the estates of his brother and sister, his relations with his neighbors and his muzhiks, his family cares, his new enterprise in bee-culture, which he had taken up this year, occupied all his time. These interests occupied him, not because he carried them on with a view to their universal application, as he had done before, but, on the contrary, because being now on the one hand disillusionized by the lack of success in his former undertakings for the common good, on the other being too much engrossed by his own thoughts and the very multitude of affairs calling for his attention, he entirely relinquished all his attempts of cooperative advantage and he occupied himself with his affairs, simply because it seemed to him that he was irresistibly impelled to do what he did, and could not do otherwise.

Formerly—almost from childhood till he reached manhood—when he began to do anything that would be good for all, for humanity, for Russia, he saw that the thought of it gave him, in advance, a pleasing sense of joy; but the action in itself never realized his hopes, nor had he full conviction that the work was necessary, and the activity itself which seemed at first so important kept growing smaller and smaller, and came to naught.

But now that since his marriage he had become more and more restricted by life for its own sake, though he had no pleasure at the thought of his activity, he felt a conviction that his work was indispensable, and saw that the results gained were far more satisfactory than before.

Now, quite against his will, he cut deeper and deeper into the soil, like a plow that cannot choose its path, or turn from its furrow.

To live as his fathers and grandfathers had lived, to carry out their work so as to hand it on in turn to his children, seemed to him a plain duty. It was as necessary as the duty of eating when hungry; and he knew that, to reach this end, he was under obligation so to conduct the machinery of the estate^[1] at Pokrovskoye that there might be profit in it. As indubitably as a debt required to be paid, so was it incumbent on him to preserve his paternal estate in such a condition that his son, receiving it in turn, might say, "Thank you, my father," just as Levin himself was grateful to his ancestors for what they had cleared and tilled. He felt that he had no right to rent his land to the muzhiks, but that he himself must keep everything under his own eye,—maintain his cattle, fertilize his fields, set out trees.

It was as impossible not to look out for the interests of Sergyeï Ivanovitch and his sister, and all the peasants that came to consult him, as it was to abandon the child that had been given into his hands. He felt obliged to look after the interests of his sister-in-law, who with her children was living at his house, and of his wife with her child, and he had to spend with them at least a small part of his time. And all this, together with his hunting and his new occupation of bee-culture, filled to overflowing his life, the meaning of which he could not understand when he reflected on it.

Not only did Levin see clearly what it was his duty to do, but he saw how he must fulfil it, and what had paramount importance.

He knew that it was requisite to hire laborers as cheaply as possible; but to get them into his power by paying down money in advance, and getting them at less than market price, he would not do, although this was very advantageous. It was permissible to sell fodder to the muzhiks in time of scarcity, even though he felt sorry for those who were improvident; but he felt it his duty to do away with inns and drinking-places, even though they brought in great profit. On principle he punished as severely as he could thefts from his wood; but when he found cattle straying he was not inclined to exact a fine, and though it annoyed the guards and brought the punishment into contempt, he always insisted on having the cattle driven out again. He advanced money to Piotr, to save him from the claws of a money-lender, who charged him ten per cent a month; but he made no allowance for arrears in the obrok or money due him from negligent muzhiks. He found it impossible to pardon an overseer because a small meadow was not mowed and the grass was wasted; but he would not let them mow a piece of land amounting to eighty desyatins—or two hundred and sixteen acres—on which a young forest had been planted. He would not excuse a muzhik who went home in working hours because his father had died,—sorry as he was for him,—and he had to pay him lower wages for the costly months of idleness; but he was bound to give board and lodging to old servants who were superannuated.

Levin felt that it was right, on returning home, to go first to his wife, who was not well, though some muzhiks had been waiting for three hours to see him; and he knew, in spite of all the pleasure that he should have in seeing his bees hived, nevertheless he felt in duty bound to deprive himself of this pleasure and let his old bee-man transfer the swarm without him, and go and talk with the muzhiks who had come to the apiary for him.

Whether he did well or ill, he knew not; and he did not try to settle it, but, moreover, he avoided all thoughts and discussions on the subject. Reasoning led him to doubt, and prevented him from seeing what was right to do, or not to do. When he ceased to consider, but simply lived, he never failed to find in his soul the presence of an infallible judge, telling him which of two possible courses was the best to take, and which was the worst; and when he failed to follow this inner voice, he was instantly made aware of it.

Thus he lived, not knowing, and not seeing the possibility of knowing, what he was, or why he lived in the world, and tortured by his ignorance to such a degree that he feared committing suicide and yet resolutely pursuing the course of life traced out for him.

 

1. Khozhyaïstvennaya mashina.