WAR AND PEACE by Leo Tolstoy

Book Six


Again Pierre was overtaken by the depression he so dreaded. For three days after the delivery of his speech at the lodge he lay on a sofa at home receiving no one and going nowhere.

It was just then that he received a letter from his wife, who implored him to see her, telling him how grieved she was about him and how she wished to devote her whole life to him.

At the end of the letter she informed him that in a few days she would return to Petersburg from abroad.

Following this letter one of the Masonic Brothers whom Pierre respected less than the others forced his way in to see him and, turning the conversation upon Pierre's matrimonial affairs, by way of fraternal advice expressed the opinion that his severity to his wife was wrong and that he was neglecting one of the first rules of Freemasonry by not forgiving the penitent.

At the same time his mother-in-law, Prince Vasili's wife, sent to him imploring him to come if only for a few minutes to discuss a most important matter. Pierre saw that there was a conspiracy against him and that they wanted to reunite him with his wife, and in the mood he then was, this was not even unpleasant to him. Nothing mattered to him. Nothing in life seemed to him of much importance, and under the influence of the depression that possessed him he valued neither his liberty nor his resolution to punish his wife.

"No one is right and no one is to blame; so she too is not to blame," he thought.

If he did not at once give his consent to a reunion with his wife, it was only because in his state of depression he did not feel able to take any step. Had his wife come to him, he would not have turned her away. Compared to what preoccupied him, was it not a matter of indifference whether he lived with his wife or not?

Without replying either to his wife or his mother-in-law, Pierre late one night prepared for a journey and started for Moscow to see Joseph Alexeevich. This is what he noted in his diary:

Moscow, 17th November

I have just returned from my benefactor, and hasten to write down
what I have experienced. Joseph Alexeevich is living poorly and has
for three years been suffering from a painful disease of the
bladder. No one has ever heard him utter a groan or a word of
complaint. From morning till late at night, except when he eats his
very plain food, he is working at science. He received me graciously
and made me sit down on the bed on which he lay. I made the sign of
the Knights of the East and of Jerusalem, and he responded in the same
manner, asking me with a mild smile what I had learned and gained in
the Prussian and Scottish lodges. I told him everything as best I
could, and told him what I had proposed to our Petersburg lodge, of
the bad reception I had encountered, and of my rupture with the
Brothers. Joseph Alexeevich, having remained silent and thoughtful for
a good while, told me his view of the matter, which at once lit up for
me my whole past and the future path I should follow. He surprised
me by asking whether I remembered the threefold aim of the order:
(1) The preservation and study of the mystery. (2) The purification
and reformation of oneself for its reception, and (3) The
improvement of the human race by striving for such purification. Which
is the principal aim of these three? Certainly self-reformation and
self-purification. Only to this aim can we always strive independently
of circumstances. But at the same time just this aim demands the
greatest efforts of us; and so, led astray by pride, losing sight of
this aim, we occupy ourselves either with the mystery which in our
impurity we are unworthy to receive, or seek the reformation of the
human race while ourselves setting an example of baseness and
profligacy. Illuminism is not a pure doctrine, just because it is
attracted by social activity and puffed up by pride. On this ground
Joseph Alexeevich condemned my speech and my whole activity, and in
the depth of my soul I agreed with him. Talking of my family affairs
he said to me, "the chief duty of a true Mason, as I have told you,
lies in perfecting himself. We often think that by removing all the
difficulties of our life we shall more quickly reach our aim, but on
the contrary, my dear sir, it is only in the midst of worldly cares
that we can attain our three chief aims: (1) Self-knowledge- for man
can only know himself by comparison, (2) Self-perfecting, which can
only be attained by conflict, and (3) The attainment of the chief
virtue- love of death. Only the vicissitudes of life can show us its
vanity and develop our innate love of death or of rebirth to a new
life." These words are all the more remarkable because, in spite of
his great physical sufferings, Joseph Alexeevich is never weary of
life though he loves death, for which- in spite of the purity and
loftiness of his inner man- he does not yet feel himself
sufficiently prepared. My benefactor then explained to me fully the
meaning of the Great Square of creation and pointed out to me that the
numbers three and seven are the basis of everything. He advised me not
to avoid intercourse with the Petersburg Brothers, but to take up only
second-grade posts in the lodge, to try, while diverting the
Brothers from pride, to turn them toward the true path
self-knowledge and self-perfecting. Besides this he advised me for
myself personally above all to keep a watch over myself, and to that
end he gave me a notebook, the one I am now writing in and in which
I will in future note down all my actions.
Petersburg, 23rd November

I am again living with my wife. My mother-in-law came to me in tears
and said that Helene was here and that she implored me to hear her;
that she was innocent and unhappy at my desertion, and much more. I
knew that if I once let myself see her I should not have strength to
go on refusing what she wanted. In my perplexity I did not know
whose aid and advice to seek. Had my benefactor been here he would
have told me what to do. I went to my room and reread Joseph
Alexeevich's letters and recalled my conversations with him, and
deduced from it all that I ought not to refuse a suppliant, and
ought to reach a helping hand to everyone- especially to one so
closely bound to me- and that I must bear my cross. But if I forgive
her for the sake of doing right, then let union with her have only a
spiritual aim. That is what I decided, and what I wrote to Joseph
Alexeevich. I told my wife that I begged her to forget the past, to
forgive me whatever wrong I may have done her, and that I had
nothing to forgive. It gave me joy to tell her this. She need not know
how hard it was for me to see her again. I have settled on the upper
floor of this big house and am experiencing a happy feeling of