How am I-by means of this education and these talents-to repay what I have taken and still take from the peasants? That question was incorrect because it contained in itself a false conception that I was not like other men but was a special kind of man called to serve people by the talents and education I had acquired by forty years’ exercise. I put the question to myself, but in reality I had answered it in advance by fixing beforehand the kind of activity agreeable to myself by which I was called upon to serve men. I really asked myself: How am I, such an admirable writer, who have acquired so much knowledge and possess such talents, to utilize them in the service of mankind?
The question should have been put as it should be put to a learned Rabbi who has studied the whole Talmud and learned the number of letters in all the sacred books and all the subtleties of his science.
The question, both for the Rabbi and for me, should have been this: What am I, who owing to my unfortunate position, during the best years for study have been learning the French language, the piano, grammar, geography, the science of jurisprudence, verses, stories and novels, philosophic theories, and military exercises, instead of learning to labour, what am I, who have passed the best years of my life in idle occupations depraving to the soul-what am I to do despite those unfortunate conditions of the past, in order to requite those who have all this time fed me and clothed me and who still continue to feed and clothe me?
If the question had presented itself as it does to me now after I have repented: What must I do, who am such a perverted man?-the answer would have been easy: try, first of all, to feed yourself honestly, that is to say, learn not to live on the backs of others; and while learning that, and after learning it, take every opportunity to serve others with hands, feet, brain, heart, and all the powers you possess and on which people make demands.
And therefore I say that for a man of our circle-besides not lying to himself or to others-it is also necessary to repent, to scrape off the pride that has grown upon us; pride of education, of refinement, and of talents, and to acknowledge oneself to be not a benefactor of others and an advanced man who is willing to share his useful acquisitions with the people, but to acknowledge oneself guilty all round, a spoilt, quite good-for nothing man, who wishes not to be a benefactor to the people but to reform himself and cease to offend and wrong them.
I often hear questions from good young people who sympathize with the negative part of my writings, and ask: ‘Then what must I do? What am I to do, who have taken my degree at the university, or some other establishment-What am I to do to be of use?’
These young people ask that, but in the depth of their souls have already decided that in the education they have received they possess a great advantage, and that they wish to serve the people just by means of that advantage. And therefore the one thing they will on no account do is to examine what they call their education honestly and critically and ask themselves whether it is a good or bad thing? If they do that, they will inevitably be led to repudiate their education and be obliged to begin to learn afresh; and that is just what is necessary.
They are quite unable to decide the question, What to do? because they do not see the question in its true light.
The question should be put thus: How can I, a helpless, useless man, who owing to unfortunate circumstances have wasted the best years for learning on studying a scientific Talmud pernicious to soul and to body, how can I rectify this mistake and learn to be of service to men? But it presents itself to them thus: How am I, who have acquired such admirable knowledge, to be of use to people by means of my admirable knowledge? And therefore the man will never answer the question: What to do? until he ceases to deceive himself, and repents. And repentance is not dreadful, just as the truth is not dreadful, but is equally joyous and fruitful. We need only accept the truth completely and repent fully, to understand that no one possesses any rights or privileges or can possess them, but has only endless and unlimited duties and obligations; and man’s first and most unquestionable duty is to participate in the struggle with nature to support his own life and that of others.
And this acknowledgement of a man’s duty forms the essence of the third answer to the question: What to do? .
I tried not to lie to myself. I tried to extirpate the false conception of the importance of my education and talents, and to repent; but on the road to the solution of the question, What to do? a new difficulty presented itself: there were so many things to be done that one needed an indication just what should be done in particular. And the reply to this question was given by sincere repentance of the evil in which I was living. What to do? Just what to do?-everyone asks, and I, too, asked it as long as, under the influence of a high opinion of my vocation, I did not see that my first and unquestionable business was to procure my own food, clothing, heating, and dwelling, and in doing this to serve others, because since the beginning of the world that has been the first and surest obligation of every man.
Only in that occupation does a man, if he participates in it, obtain full satisfaction for the physical and spiritual demands of his nature: to feed, clothe, and take care of himself and of those near to him, satisfies his physical needs, while to do the same for others satisfies his spiritual needs.
All man’s other activities become legitimate only when this prime demand is satisfied.
No matter wherein a man may see his vocation: whether in ruling men, in defending his compatriots, in performing Church services, in teaching, in devising means to increase the pleasures of life, in discovering the laws of nature, in embodying eternal truths in artistic images-for a rational man the duty of taking part in the struggle with nature for the maintenance of his own life and the lives of other people, will always be the first and most indubitable. This duty will always rank first, because what people most need is life, and therefore to defend people and to teach them and to make their lives more agreeable it is necessary to preserve life itself, and my neglect to take part in that struggle and my consumption of other people’s labour destroys people’s lives.
And therefore it is impossible and insane to try to serve men while destroying their lives.
Man’s duty to struggle with nature for the means of livelihood will always be the very first and most certain of all duties, because it is the law of life, neglect of which involves inevitable punishment by the destruction either of man’s physical or rational life. If a man living in solitude avoids the struggle with nature he is at once punished by the fact that his body perishes. And if in a community a man frees himself from his duty by making others do his work for him to the detriment of their lives, he is at once punished by the fact that his life becomes unreasonable and unjustifiable.
So perverted had I been by my past life, and so concealed in our society is that primary and unquestionable law of God or of nature, that it seemed to me strange, terrible, and even shameful, to obey that law, as though the fulfilment of an eternal and unquestionable law, and not its neglect, could be strange, terrible, or shameful.
At first it seemed to me that in order to do rough manual work some special arrangement or organization was necessary: a circle of like-minded men, the consent of my family, or residence in the country. Then I felt ashamed to appear to wish to show off by doing
something so unusual in our circle as physical work, and I did not know how to set about it.
But I had only to understand that it was not some exceptional activity that had to be devised and arranged, but that it was merely returning to a natural position from the false one in which I had been-merely rectifying the falsehood in which I had been living-I had only to admit this for all difficulties to vanish.
It was not at all necessary to arrange, to adapt, or to await the consent of others, because in whatever condition I might be there were always people who fed, clothed, and attended to the heating, not only for themselves but also for me, and I could do this for myself and for them everywhere, under any conditions, if I had sufficient time and strength.
Nor could I feel false shame in the unaccustomed work that seemed to surprise people, for while not doing it I already felt not false but real shame. And on arriving at this consciousness and at the practical deductions from it, I was fully rewarded for not having feared the conclusions
