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is a great and gross mistake. There is no Tol-stoyanism and has never been, nor any teaching of mine; there is only one eternal, general, uni-versal teaching of the truth, which for me, for us, is especially clearly expressed in the Gospels. This teaching calls man to the recognition of his filiality to God and therefore of his freedom or his slavery (call it what you want) : of his free-dom from the influence of the world, of his slav-ery to God, His will. And as soon as man un-derstands this teaching, he enters freely into direct communication with God and he has nothing and no one to ask.
It is like a man swimming in a river with an enormous overflow. As long as the man isn’t in the middle current, but in the overflow, he has to swim himself, to row, and here he can be guided by the course taken in swimming by other people. Here also I could direct people while I myself approach the current. But as soon as we enter the current, then there is no guide and can-not be. We are all carried along by the strength of the current, all in one direction, and those who were behind can be in front. When a man asks where shall he swim, that only shows that he has not yet entered the current and that he from whom he asks, is a poor guide if he were unable to bring him into the current, i.e., to that state in which it is impossible because it is senseless
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to ask. How ask where to swim, when the cur-rent with irresistible force is drawing me in a direction that is joyous to me?
People who submit themselves to a guide, who have faith in him and listen to him, undoubtedly wander in the dark together with their guide.
I think I have finished Art.
Random break
Dec. 3. Y. P. If I live.
My work on Art has cleared up much for me. If God commands me to write artistic things, they will be altogether different ones. And to write them it will be both easier and more difficult. We shall see.
To-day, Dec. 6, Moscow.
On the 4th I went to Dolgoe. 261 I had a very tender impression from the ruined house; a swarm of memories.
Almost two days that I haven’t written. I only prepared the chapters on Art and packed my things … I have jotted down nothing. I woke feeling badly.
Dec. 7, Moscow.
… I was at Storozhenko’s. 262 Kasatkin was here 263 in the evening. I asked for examples. In the morning I corrected Art.
I jotted down nothing: there is much bustle. Health good.
Dec. 8 t Moscow. If I live.
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To-day, nth.
I have already spent so many days in Moscow. I have done almost nothing, only corrected Art. A pile of people and letters. Thank God the most important is good, i.e., I have done nothing that I ought not to have done. To-day I wrote a letter to Gali.
It seems to me that the divisions of Art have turned out just as they were before.
A sad impression was produced by what N told about Chertkov 284 and by the letter of Ivan Mi-chailovich. Moreover, A, B, C, D, they are all suffering. Well, it is forgivable in them, but how can a Christian suffer?
During this time N N’s condition became clear. He is mentally diseased, like all people who are non-Christians.
I have consented to give to Troubetskoi by in-stalments. 265
A sad letter from Chertkov. I want to write to him. Dec. 12, Moscow. If I live.
To-day, the ijth. Morning.
I wrote a letter to the Chertkovs. It seems to me I have corrected the i6th chapter very well.
Yesterday I read the correspondence of Z on the sex-problem and I was very indignant and I spoke disagreeably to him at Rusanov’s.
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Rusanov has the head of Hadji Murad. This morning I wanted to write Hadji Murad I lost the outline.
I wrote down something. I now want to write out the themes which are worth while and which can be treated as they ought to be :
i) Sergius, 2) Alexander I, 3) Persianninov, 4) the tale of Petrovich the husband, who died a pilgrim. The following are worse: 5) the legend of the descent of Christ into hell and the reconstruction of hell, 6) a forged coupon, 7) Hadji Murad, 8) the substituted child, 9) the drama of the Christian resurrection and perhaps 10) Resurrection the trial of a prostitute, n) (excellent) a brigand killing the defenceless, 12) a mother, 13) an execution in Odessa. 266
It is depressing in the house, but I want to be and will be joyous.
I am going to write out only two things :
1) That the physical union with an accidental husband is one of the means established by God for the spread of His truth: for the testing and the strengthening of the stronger and for the enlightenment of the weaker.
2) For people professing filiality to God, not to rejoice in life, to yearn, is a dreadful sin, an error. If you understood that the end of life is the activity for God for no personal ends, then nothing could hinder this activity, could hold it
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back. The main thing is that life willy-nilly goes forward to the better : one’s own life and the life of the world. How not rejoice at this movement? One has only to remember that life is movement.
I write and I sleep and therefore express myself badly. Until evening, if I live.
To-day, December 14, Moscow. Morning.
Yesterday I received an unpleasant letter from Chertkov and sent him an answer (about the pub-lications). 267
The day before yesterday, I read the corres-pondence of Z about sex relations and became vexed and went to the Rusanovs’ and met Z there and showed my condemnation of him sharply. That tortured me and I wrote him a note yesterday apologising and I received a nice answer which touched me.
I feel very ill. I am in the worst mood and therefore am dissatisfied with everything and can-not love. And just now am thinking:
We find sickness a burden; but sickness is a nec-essary good condition of life. Only it alone (per-haps not alone, but one of the most important and generally common conditions) prepares us for death, i.e., for our crossing over into another life. Therefore indeed it was sent to every one : to chil-dren, to adults, to old people, because all, at all
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ages, die. And we find it burdensome. The fact that we find sickness burdensome shows only that we do not live as we ought to : both a temporary and at the same time an eternal life but we live only a temporary life.
Sickness is the preparation for the crossing-over and therefore to grumble against sickness is just the same as grumbling against cold and rain. One ought to make use of them and not grumble. In fact, only those who live playing, get angry at the rain, but those who live seriously rejoice at it. The same with sickness. More than this : not only sickness but a bad mood, disappointment, sorrows, all these help to detach oneself from the worldly and facilitate the crossing-over into the new life.
I am now in such a state of crossing-over.
Evening, the
The whole day I have been ill and I am in the worst mood. I cannot master myself and every-thing is disagreeable and burdensome. I did noth-ing. I read and talked. Dec. 75, Moscow. If I live.
To-day, December if.
To-day, I am still in the very worst spirits. I am struggling with ill-will. I gave the essay away. 268 Telegraphed to England. No answer as yet. 269
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A pile of people here, all evening. To-day I wrote twelve letters, but did not work at all.
To-day I thought the very oldest thing: That one ought to perfect oneself in love, in which no one can interfere and which is very interesting. But love is not in exclusive attachments, but in a good, not in an evil attitude to every living being.
Wrote letters: i) Posha, 2) Masha, 3) Ivan Michailovich, 4) Prince Viazemsky, 5) Bondarev, 6) Strakhov, 7) the school teacher Robinson, 8) Priest, 9) Crosby, 10) Chizhov, 270 n) Nicholaev in Kazan, and 12) 271
I am finishing the note-book in a bad mood. To-morrow I begin a new one. To-day I am also displeased with the essay on art.
The diary of the year 1897, Dec. 21, ‘97. Mos-cow.
I am beginning a new notebook, almost in a new spiritual mood. Here are already 5 days that I have done nothing. I am thinking out Hadji Mu-rad, but I have no desire or confidence. On Art is printed. Chertkov is displeased and those here also. 272
Yesterday I received an anonymous letter with a threat to kill, if I do not reform by the year 1898; time is given only up to 1898. I was both uneasy and pleased. 273
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I am skating. A sign of an inactive mood is that I have noted down nothing.
Just now I read through Chekhov’s, On a Cart. Excellent in expressiveness, but rhetorical as soon as he wants to give meaning to his story. There is a remarkable clearness in my mind, thanks to my book on art.
Dec. 26,
