a confession(忏悔录)-第3章

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！



i。e。　progress；　was　now　again　replaced　by　the　effort　simply　to

secure　the　best　possible　conditions　for　myself　and　my　family。

　　　　　So　another　fifteen　years　passed。

　　　　　In　spite　of　the　fact　that　I　now　regarded　authorship　as　of　no

importance　　the　temptation　of　immense　monetary　rewards　and

applause　for　my　insignificant　work　　and　I　devoted　myself　to　it　as

a　means　of　improving　my　material　position　and　of　stifling　in　my

soul　all　questions　as　to　the　meaning　of　my　own　life　or　life　in

general。

　　　　　I　wrote：　　teaching　what　was　for　me　the　only　truth；　namely；

that　one　should　live　so　as　to　have　the　best　for　oneself　and　one's

family。

　　　　　So　I　lived；　but　five　years　ago　something　very　strange　began　to

happen　to　me。　　At　first　I　experienced　moments　of　perplexity　and

arrest　of　life；　and　though　I　did　not　know　what　to　do　or　how　to

live；　and　I　felt　lost　and　became　dejected。　　But　this　passed　and　I

went　on　living　as　before。　　Then　these　moments　of　perplexity　began

to　recur　oftener　and　oftener；　and　always　in　the　same　form。　　They

were　always　expressed　by　the　questions：　　What　is　it　for？　　What　does

it　lead　to？

　　　　　At　first　it　seemed　to　me　that　these　were　aimless　and

irrelevant　questions。　　I　thought　that　it　was　all　well　known；　and

that　if　I　should　ever　wish　to　deal　with　the　solution　it　would　not

cost　me　much　effort；　just　at　present　I　had　no　time　for　it；　but　when

I　wanted　to　I　should　be　able　to　find　the　answer。　　The　questions

however　began　to　repeat　themselves　frequently；　and　to　demand

replies　more　and　more　insistently；　and　like　drops　of　ink　always

falling　on　one　place　they　ran　together　into　one　black　blot。

　　　　　Then　occurred　what　happens　to　everyone　sickening　with　a　mortal

internal　disease。　　At　first　trivial　signs　of　indisposition　appear

to　which　the　sick　man　pays　no　attention；　then　these　signs　reappear

more　and　more　often　and　merge　into　one　uninterrupted　period　of

suffering。　　The　suffering　increases；　and　before　the　sick　man　can

look　round；　what　he　took　for　a　mere　indisposition　has　already

become　more　important　to　him　than　anything　else　in　the　world　　it

is　death！

　　　　　That　is　what　happened　to　me。　　I　understood　that　it　was　no

casual　indisposition　but　something　very　important；　and　that　if

these　questions　constantly　repeated　themselves　they　would　have　to

be　answered。　　And　I　tried　to　answer　them。　　The　questions　seemed

such　stupid；　simple；　childish　ones；　but　as　soon　as　I　touched　them

and　tried　to　solve　them　I　at　once　became　convinced；　first；　that

they　are　not　childish　and　stupid　but　the　most　important　and

profound　of　life's　questions；　and　secondly　that；　occupying　myself

with　my　Samara　estate；　the　education　of　my　son；　or　the　writing　of

a　book；　I　had　to　know　*why*　I　was　doing　it。　　As　long　as　I　did　not

know　why；　I　could　do　nothing　and　could　not　live。　　Amid　the　thoughts

of　estate　management　which　greatly　occupied　me　at　that　time；　the

question　would　suddenly　occur：　　〃Well；　you　will　have　6；000

desyatinas　＇Footnote：　The　desyatina　is　about　2。75　acres。A。M。＇　of

land　in　Samara　Government　and　300　horses；　and　what　then？〃　。。。　And

I　was　quite　disconcerted　and　did　not　know　what　to　think。　　Or　when

considering　plans　for　the　education　of　my　children；　I　would　say　to

myself：　　〃What　for？〃　　Or　when　considering　how　the　peasants　might

become　prosperous；　I　would　suddenly　say　to　myself：　　〃But　what　does

it　matter　to　me？〃　　Or　when　thinking　of　the　fame　my　works　would

bring　me；　I　would　say　to　myself；　〃Very　well；　you　will　be　more

famous　than　Gogol　or　Pushkin　or　Shakespeare　or　Moliere；　or　than　all

the　writers　in　the　world　　and　what　of　it？〃　　And　I　could　find　no

reply　at　all。　　The　questions　would　not　wait；　they　had　to　be

answered　at　once；　and　if　I　did　not　answer　them　it　was　impossible　to

live。　　But　there　was　no　answer。

　　　　　I　felt　that　what　I　had　been　standing　on　had　collapsed　and　that

I　had　nothing　left　under　my　feet。　　What　I　had　lived　on　no　longer

existed；　and　there　was　nothing　left。



　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　IV



　　　　　My　life　came　to　a　standstill。　　I　could　breathe；　eat；　drink；

and　sleep；　and　I　could　not　help　doing　these　things；　but　there　was

no　life；　for　there　were　no　wishes　the　fulfillment　of　which　I　could

consider　reasonable。　　If　I　desired　anything；　I　knew　in　advance　that

whether　I　satisfied　my　desire　or　not；　nothing　would　come　of　it。　

Had　a　fairy　come　and　offered　to　fulfil　my　desires　I　should　not　have

know　what　to　ask。　　If　in　moments　of　intoxication　I　felt　something

which；　though　not　a　wish；　was　a　habit　left　by　former　wishes；　in

sober　moments　I　knew　this　to　be　a　delusion　and　that　there　was

really　nothing　to　wish　for。　　I　could　not　even　wish　to　know　the

truth；　for　I　guessed　of　what　it　consisted。　　The　truth　was　that　life

is　meaningless。　　I　had　as　it　were　lived；　lived；　and　walked；　walked；

till　I　had　come　to　a　precipice　and　saw　clearly　that　there　was

nothing　ahead　of　me　but　destruction。　　It　was　impossible　to　stop；

impossible　to　go　back；　and　impossible　to　close　my　eyes　or　avoid

seeing　that　there　was　nothing　ahead　but　suffering　and　real　death　

complete　annihilation。

　　　　　It　had　come　to　this；　that　I；　a　healthy；　fortunate　man；　felt　I

could　no　longer　live：　some　irresistible　power　impelled　me　to　rid

myself　one　way　or　other　of　life。　　I　cannot　say　I　*wished*　to　kill

myself。　　The　power　which　drew　me　away　from　life　was　stronger；

fuller；　and　more　widespread　than　any　mere　wish。　　It　was　a　force

similar　to　the　former　striving　to　live；　only　in　a　contrary

direction。　　All　my　strength　drew　me　away　from　life。　　The　thought　of

self…destruction　now　came　to　me　as　naturally　as　thoughts　of　how　to

improve　my　life　had　come　formerly。　　and　it　was　seductive　that　I　had

to　be　cunning　with　myself　lest　I　should　carry　it　out　too　hastily。　

　I　did　not　wish　to　hurry；　because　I　wanted　to　use　all　efforts　to

disentangle　the　matter。　　〃If　I　cannot　unravel　matters；　there　will

always　be　time。〃　　and　it　was　then　that　I；　a　man　favoured　by

fortune；　hid　a　cord　from　myself　lest　I　should　hang　myself　from　the

crosspiece　of　the　partition　in　my　room　where　I　undressed　alone

every　evening；　and　I　ceased　to　go　out　shooting　with　a　gun　lest　I

should　be　tempted　by　so　easy　a　way　of　ending　my　life。　　I　did　not

myself　know　what　I　wanted：　　I　feared　life；　desired　to　escape　from

it；　yet　still　hoped　something　of　it。

　　　　　And　all　this　befell　me　at　a　time　when　all　around　me　I　had　what

is　considered　complete　good　fortune。　　I　was　not　yet　fifty；　I　had　a

good　wife　who　lived　me　and　whom　I　loved；　good　children；　and　a　large

estate　which　without　much　effort　on　my　part　improved　and　increased。　

I　was　respected　by　my　relations　and　acquaintances　more　than　at　any

previous　time。　　I　was　praised　by　others　and　without　much　self…

deception　could　consider　that　my　name　was　famous。　　And　far　from

being　insane　or　mentally　diseased；　I　enjoyed　on　the　contrary　a

strength　of　mind　and　body　such　as　I　have　seldom　met　with　among　men

of　my　kind；　physically　I　could　keep　up　with　the　peasants　at　mowing；

and　mentally　I　could　work　for　eight　and　ten　hours　at　a　stretch

without　experiencing　any　ill　results　from　such　exertion。　　And　in

this　situation　I　came　to　this　　that　I　could　not　live；　and；

fearing　death；　had　to　employ　cunning　with　myself　to　avoid　taking　my

own　life。

　　　　　My　mental　condition　presented　itself　to　me　in　this　way：　　my

life　is　a　stupid　and　spiteful　joke　someone　has　played　on　me。　

Though　I　did　not　acknowledge　a　〃someone〃　who　created　me；　yet　such

a　presentation　　that　someone　had　played　an　evil　and　stupid　joke

on　my　by　placing　me　in　the　world　　was　the　form　of　expression　that

suggested　itself　most　naturally　to　me。

　　　　　Involuntarily　it　appeared　to　me　that　there；　somewhere；　was

someone　who　amused　himself　by　watching　how　I　lived　for　thirty　or

forty　years：　　learning；　developing；　maturing　in　body　and　mind；　and

how；　having　with　matured　mental　powers　reached　the　summit　of　life

from　which　it　all　lay　before　me；　I　stood　on　that　summit　　like　an

arch…fool　　seeing　clearly　that　there　is　nothing　in　life；　and　that

there　has　been　and　will　be　nothing。　　And　*he*　was　amused。　。。。

　　　　　But　whether　that　〃someone〃　laughing　at　me　existed　or　not；　I

was　none　the　better　off。　　I　could　give　no　reasonable　meaning　to　any

single　action　or　to　my　whole　life。　　I　was　only　surprised　that　I

could　have　avoided　understanding　this　from　the　very　beginning　　it

has　been　so　long　known　to　all。　　Today　or　tomorrow　sickness　and

death　will　come　（they　had　come　already）　to　those　I　love　or　to　me；

nothing　will　remain　but　stench　and　worms。　　Sooner　or　later　my

affairs；　whatever　they　may　be；　will　be　forgotten；　and　I　shall　not

exist。　　Then　why　go　on　making　any　effort？　。。。　How　can　man　fail　to

see　this？　　And　how　go　on　living？　　That　is　what　is　surprising！　　One

can　only　live　while　one　is　intoxicated　with　life；　as　soon　as　one　is

sober　it　is　impossible　not　to　see　that　it　is　all　a　mere　fraud　and

a　stupid　fraud！　　That　is　precisely　what　it　is：　　there　is　nothing

either　amusing　or　witty　about　it；　it　is　simply　cruel　and　stupid。

　　　　　There　is　an　Eastern　fable；　told　long　ago；　of　a　traveller

overtaken　on　a　plain　by　an　enraged　beast。　　Escaping　from　the　beast

he　gets　into　a　dry　well；　but　sees　at　the　bottom　of　the　well　a

dragon　that　has　opened　its　jaws　to　swallow　him。　　And　the

unfortunate　man；　not　daring　to　climb　out　lest　he　should　be

destroyed　by　the　enraged　beast；　and　not　daring　to　leap　to　the

bottom　of　the　well　lest　he　should　be　eaten　by　the　dragon；　seizes　s

twig　growing　in　a　crack　in　the　well　and　clings　to　it。　　His　hands

are　growing　weaker　and　he　feels　he　will　soon　have　to　resign　himself

to　the　destruction　that　awaits　him　above　or　below；　but　still　he

clings　on。　　Then　he　sees　that　two　mice；　a　black　one　and　a　white

one；　go　regularly　round　and　round　the　stem　of　the　twig　to　which　he

is　clinging　and　gnaw　at　it。　　And　soon　the　twig　itself　will　snap　and

he　will　fall　into　the　dragon's　jaws。　　The　traveller　sees　this　and

knows　that　he　will　inevitably　perish；　but　while　still　hanging　he

looks　around；　sees　some　drops　of　honey　on　the　leaves　of　the　twig；

reaches　them　with　his　tongue　and　licks　them。　　So　I　too　clung　to　the

twig　of　life；　knowing　that　the　dragon　of　death　was　inevitably

awaiting　me；　ready　to　tear　me　to　pieces；　and　I　could　not　understand

why　I　had　fallen　into　such　torment。　　I　tried　to　lick　the　honey

which　formerly　consoled　me；　but　the　honey　no　longer　gave　me

pleasure；　and　the　white　and　black　mice　of　day　and　night　gnawed　at

the　branch　by　which　I　hung。　　I　saw　the　dragon　clearly　and　the　honey

no　longer　tasted　sweet。　　I　only　saw　the　unescapable　dragon　and　the

mice；　and　I　could　not　tear　my　gaze　from　them。　　and　this　is　not　a

fable　but　the　real　unanswerable　truth　intelligible　to　all。

　　　　　The　deception　of　the　joys　of　life　which　formerly　allayed　my

terror　of　the　dragon　now　no　longer　deceived　me。　　No　matter　how

often　I　may　be　told；　〃You　cannot　understand　the　meaning　of　life　so

do　not　think　about　it；　but　live；〃　I　can　no　longer　do　it：　I　have

already　done　it　too　long。　　I　canno