On the Significance of Science and ArtTolstoy, Leo, graf
Philosophy
On the Significance of Science and Art
Tolstoy, Leo, graf
Art and science; Literature; Philosophy; Tolstoy, Leo, graf, 1828-1910 -- Philosophy
A ragged peasant roams the Krapivensky district. During the war he was
an agent for the purchase of grain, under an official of the commissary
department. On being brought in contact with the official, and seeing
his luxurious life, the peasant lost his mind, and thought that he might
get along without work, like gentlemen, and receive proper support from
the Emperor. This peasant now calls himself "the Most Serene Warrior,
Prince Blokhin, purveyor of war supplies of all descriptions." He says
of himself that he has "passed through all the ranks," and that when he
shall have served out his term in the army, he is to receive from the
Emperor an unlimited bank account, clothes, uniforms, horses, equipages,
tea, pease and servants, and all sorts of luxuries. This man is
ridiculous in the eyes of many, but to me the significance of his madness
is terrible. To the question, whether he does not wish to work, he
always replies proudly: "I am much obliged. The peasants will attend to
all that." When you tell him that the peasants do not wish to work,
either, he answers: "It is not difficult for the peasant."
He generally talks in a high-flown style, and is fond of verbal
substantives. "Now there is an invention of machinery for the
alleviation of the peasants," he says; "there is no difficulty for them
in that." When he is asked what he lives for, he replies, "To pass the
time." I always look on this man as on a mirror. I behold in him myself
and all my class. To pass through all the ranks (_tchini_) in order to
live for the purpose of passing the time, and to receive an unlimited
bank account, while the peasants, for whom this is not difficult, because
of the invention of machinery, do the whole business,--this is the
complete formula of the idiotic creed of the people of our sphere in
society.
When we inquire precisely what we are to do, surely, we ask nothing, but
merely assert--only not in such good faith as the Most Serene Prince
Blokhin, who has been promoted through all ranks, and lost his mind--that
we do not wish to do any thing.
He who will reflect for a moment cannot ask thus, because, on the one
hand, every thing that he uses has been made, and is made, by the hands
of men; and, on the other side, as soon as a healthy man has awakened and
eaten, the necessity of working with feet and hands and brain makes
itself felt. In order to find work and to work, he need only not hold
back: only a person who thinks work disgraceful--like the lady who
requests her guest not to take the trouble to open the door, but to wait
until she can call a man for this purpose--can put to himself the
question, what he is to do.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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