Man-god and man-beast

Regarding the latest works of L. N. Tolstoy: “The Devil” and “Father Sergius” Not only educated Russia, but the entire cultural world greeted the posthumous artistic works of L. N. Tolstoy with intense interest. A great master is resurrected in them, carving living images with the power of an obedient chisel. What freshness and spontaneity in “Hadji Murad” and even in individual scenes of didactic works, what amazing simplicity and strength in “The Devil”, what spiritual heat in “Father Sergius”! With all the unfinished and unfinished nature of these works, in them we have such creations of Russian fiction that can be placed on the same level even with the early work of L. N. Tolstoy, and can works of art be placed higher than this? However, our task is not an aesthetic analysis or artistic criticism of the posthumous artistic works of L. N. Tolstoy - no matter how interesting such a task in itself may be, we set it aside. We want to understand the vital meaning and wisdom of these works in the light of moral philosophy in general and the general worldview of L.N. Tolstoy himself in particular, and in this regard they represent an enormous, exceptional interest, by no means less than their purely artistic beauty. For a true artist, his work is also the revelation of his soul in its deepest and most inaccessible secrets - it is more intimate than a diary, and sincere than a confession. It is at the same time the thinking and searching of the artist, although not with reason, but with artistic intuition, which, however, is stronger and sharper than rational thinking. The deepest sincerity and truthfulness, arising from complete inner freedom, is a distinctive feature of truly artistic works, and at the same time a measure of their genius. Art becomes insincere and thereby becomes inferior to itself when it loses this inner freedom, it also turns into a service tool, becomes tendentious. In this case, it serves only as a special method of presenting or proving pre-established positions, but not as a means of independent search - such is didactic art, which in the strict sense is not art at all, no matter how skillfully it imitates it. There are many such didactic works in Tolstoy’s literary heritage, and no matter how great the skill that is manifested in them, they still cannot be classified as art, because they were written on a given topic; This is the craft and technical use of paints, not painting. But among them there are also works where this tendentious didactic element is reduced to a minimum and almost evaporates in the fire of artistic quest, where the artist regains himself and becomes like a traveler going to unknown countries, or a researcher delving into new, unknown areas of study. In them, Tolstoy, with his former fearlessness and passionate sincerity, sinks to the bottom of the human soul - and first of all, of course, his own - because no matter what artists write about, they ultimately give themselves, they recognize life in themselves and through themselves, illuminate the underground with their own light. We especially attach this importance to the stories “The Devil” and “Father of Sergius”; the first, in purely artistic terms, stands almost above all the works now published. One could also include “Hadji Murad” as an artistic gem here, but in terms of its content it relates primarily to the early period of Tolstoy’s work, the era of the creation of “Eroshka” and “Cossacks”, and therefore we will leave it without consideration. By comparing Tolstoy as a theologian, moralist and preacher, the author of numerous works of a religious and philosophical nature, and Tolstoy as an artist, we get the opportunity to pose one of the most fundamental problems of spiritual life, namely about the moral nature of man or the power of evil and sin in the human soul. It is this question that Tolstoy poses with terrible force and torment in “The Devil” and “Father Sergius,” and the reader would be unworthy of his writer if he did not try to be aware of this issue and, together with the author and following the author, overcome it. However, in order for us to come close to these issues, we must first clear the ground and stock up on general points of view, as they were defined in the history of human self-awareness. There are two views on the moral nature of man and the nature of evil: one teaches about the innateness of evil, about the fundamental damage of human nature, about a moral illness that affects the human heart, will and consciousness; for another, human nature is healthy and intact, and it looks for the cause of evil anywhere but in the human heart: in delusions of the mind, in ignorance, in bad institutions. According to the first, human nature is dual and disharmonious, since it represents a mixture of two warring principles, good and evil; according to the second, a natural person is the embodiment of harmony, balance of mental strength and health, and true wisdom commands not to fight nature, but to follow it whenever possible. Of course, in the end, both of these views rest on some already unprovable and therefore axiomatic reality; they are based on a person’s moral sense of self. Both views are sharply opposed to each other. The first finds full and, one might say, final expression in the Christian teaching about man, according to which humanity is sick with sin and this sin poisons the entire nature of man. It has various manifestations, both spiritual and physical. His presence is reflected in the constant temptation of evil, the powerlessness or weakness of good and, hence, in their constant confrontation. “I don’t understand what I’m doing,” the apostle of tongues speaks about himself, and in his person and about the entire human race, “because I don’t do what I want, but what I hate, I do. If I do what I do not want, then I agree with the law that it is good. Therefore, it is no longer I who do it, but sin that lives in me. For I know that nothing good lives in me, that is, in my flesh; because the desire for good is in me, but I don’t find it to do it. I don’t do the good that I want, but I do the evil that I don’t want. If I do what I do not want, it is no longer I who do it, but sin living in me. So, I find a law that when I want good, evil is present to me. For according to the inner man I delight in the law of God; but in my members I see another law, warring against the law of my mind and making me captive to the law of sin that is in my members. Poor man I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death? (Rom. 7:15–24). These simple, but infinitely wise and profound words express what a person finds in his inner experience, namely: the painful consciousness of the powerlessness of good, the inertia of the spirit, fettered by sin. From this self-diagnosis, Christianity draws further conclusions in the field of morality in the sense that moral life is based only on a constant struggle with oneself, with the lower sides of one’s own being, with the elements of sin, and not on trust in the “natural,” but on distrust of it, on constant and vigilant self-control and the distinction between good and evil in oneself. In this sense, Christian morality, stemming from a dualistic understanding of the moral nature of man, seeing in it a mixture of good and evil, is necessarily ascetic in the sense of the inevitability of disharmony and the struggle of these two principles. “Self-resistance and self-coercion” - these words express the essence of Bishop’s asceticism. Feofan (recluse). But a person, left to his own strengths, cannot, according to the teachings of Christianity, finally conquer sin in himself, surpass himself. That light of conscience, in which he sees his soul, only reveals to him all the power and depth of sin in him, gives rise to the desire to free himself from it, but does not yet provide the opportunity for this. Man, left to his natural powers, would have to fall into final despair if a helping hand were not extended to him. But here the atoning sacrifice of Christ and the grace given by the Church of Christ in its sacraments come to the rescue. Leaning on this hand, opening his heart to the influence of divine grace, assimilating by faith the redemptive effect of Calvary’s sacrifice, a person is freed from despair, becomes a newly born son of God, is saved from himself, from his old man, who, although he lives, is constantly smoldering and gives way to a new man. Grace does not force, it turns to human freedom, which alone is free to seek it; but a person left alone to his natural powers cannot be saved. That is why the main dogma of Christianity, about the redemption of the human race by Divine blood, is at the same time a moral postulate of Christian anthropology, that teaching about the moral nature of man, in which the possibility of self-salvation and the integrity of human nature is denied, it is a necessary answer to this cry of powerlessness coming from the depths of the human heart, and the Church with its grace-filled sacraments is the healing establishment of the love of God, in which strength is restored and healing sinful and sick humanity. When Christ walked the earth, surrounded by sinners, tax collectors, and harlots, in response to reproaches of illegibility directed by the Pharisees, He usually answered that He came “to call not the righteous, but sinners to repentance,” for “the healthy do not need a doctor, but the sick” (Matthew 9:12-13). And therefore, according to the word of St. Ephraim the Syrian, “the whole Church is the Church of the penitent, all of it is the Church of the perishing.” This basic Christian teaching about man and salvation runs, of course, throughout the entire history of the Church; it formed the basis of her dogma, preaching, and practice. It is obvious that it is completely irreducible from Christianity and forms the central part of the preaching of the Gospel, that is, the good news about the accomplished and ongoing salvation of the human race from sin. Considered outside the dogmatic form, the problem of the moral nature of man has more than once been the subject of philosophical speculation; it was answered in various philosophical constructions. I will briefly outline some of the most striking teachings of this type. Let's start with the blessing. Augustine, in whom we have not only a great mind, but also a fiery heart; this genius of pathos sought and suffered a lot before joining the Church; they experienced the depths of sin and human weakness. He told his spiritual path in his immortal “Confession”. His philosophizing, his teaching was the fruit not only of sublime speculation, but also of a passionately lived life, full of quests and errors, falls and sins, but at the same time imbued with an all-conquering desire for the highest good. “Woe to that soul,” says the blessed one. Augustine, - who dares to think and caress herself with the hope that, having moved away from You, my God, she will find something better than You! She rushes in vain in all directions, wanders in vain along all the crossroads; She doesn’t find what she wants anywhere, meeting only yearnings and sorrows everywhere. In You alone, our God, is our peace." In various acts of his spiritual drama, on his long, decades-long journey of returning the prodigal son to his father’s bosom, Augustine deeply realized the powerlessness of the human will to good and all the painful duality of the human spirit. “Two wills fought in me, the old and the new, the carnal and the spiritual, and in this struggle my soul was torn apart” 2. “This is a disease of the soul and of our entire being, which consists in the fact that, due to our damage and sinfulness, we seem to split into two... thus, we have two wills... in this visible struggle between good and evil our will consists” 3. “The good in me is Your gift, coming from You, the evil in me is my crime, condemned by You” 4. Augustine later gave philosophical expression to these life-long convictions, mainly in disputes with Pelagius and Pelagianism. He sees the main errors of Pelagianism, firstly, in the denial of original sin, secondly, in the recognition that the grace that justifies us is not given to us freely, but according to our merits and, thirdly, in the assumption of possible sinlessness after baptism. According to the teachings of Augustine, although man was created with the ability not to sin, this was his freedom (liberum arbitrium), but as a result of original sin this freedom turns into unfreedom (servum arbitrium), man is a slave of sin, and his own freedom is only an attraction to evil, while he lacks an independent capacity for good (facultas bene operandi). “Not only great, but even minimal benefits can only come from the one from whom all good comes, that is, from God” (De lib. arb. 2. 19, 50). Hence, man, in Augustine’s view, is largely a passive object of the influence of grace: “It generates in us the will (towards good), and it also contributes to its implementation” (ut velimus operatur incipiens, vobentibus cooperatur perficiens: De grat. et lib. arb. 17, 33). True, in human freedom lies “agreement or disagreement with the will of God,” but God also evokes the very will to faith in man. Therefore, grace is the “inspiration of good will” (inspiratio bonae voluntatis: De corr. 2, 3) and it acts with irresistible (irresistibilis) force: “If God wants salvation, the will of no man can resist” (deo volenti salvum facere nullum hominum resistit arbitrium: De corr. et gr. 14, 43). From here Augustine inevitably comes to the doctrine of predestination (praedestinatio) of some to salvation, others to destruction, to that religious fatalism, which a thousand years later was revived in Calvinism: the human will is drawn to salvation inevitably and irresistibly (indiclinabiliter et insuperabiliter). Philosophers rightly see in Augustine’s worldview a contradiction between the doctrine of free will, which he cannot and does not want to abandon, and the doctrine of predestination 5 . And Western church doctrine did not follow Augustine, who exaggerated the doctrine of the sinful corruption of human nature, but settled on the Semi-Pelagian, more moderate teaching, which does not completely eliminate human freedom and human merit in the matter of personal salvation and is alien to the idea of ​​predestination (in the East, Augustine’s ideas never had much influence). For us, Augustine’s ideas are interesting here not from the point of view of their correspondence or inconsistency with general church teaching, but as a powerful and vivid expression of a pessimistic view of the moral nature of man in his sinful state. Let us now fast forward one and a half thousand years, and from the spiritual father of medieval Catholicism we turn to the spiritual father of idealistic man-theism, to the philosopher of Protestantism, Kant. What Kant (and his followers after him) called the “Copernican act” comes down to the elevation of human reason to the role of legislator of the world: from now on the universe revolves around man as its center, and not man follows nature. However, for all his rationalistic anthropocentrism, Kant was filled with truly moral pathos, and the seriousness of his mood opposed the flat idealization of human nature. That is why in Kant’s moral philosophy we find, although somewhat unexpectedly, a profound doctrine of “radical evil in human nature,” set forth in the treatise “Religion within the Limits of Reason Alone” (“Die Religion innerhalb der Grenzen der blossen Vernunft”) 6 and in the age of optimistic enlightenment, making us recall Augustinianism. Not without slight irony, he speaks here about the good-natured assumption of moralists from Seneca to Rousseau (18) that the world itself goes from worse to better. According to the philosopher, “man is evil by nature,” vitiis nemo sive nascitur (no one is born without vices), he recalls the verse of Horace, and this is confirmed by observations of humanity in a cultural and uncultured state. “They talk about hidden falsity even in the closest friendship... about the tendency of people to hate those to whom they owe a lot, and for which a benefactor must always be prepared. They talk about heartfelt goodwill, which still gives rise to the remark: “in the misfortune of our friends there is always something that we do not completely dislike.” They talk about many other things, hidden under the appearance of virtue, without taking into account those vices that are not hidden, since for us even someone who is an evil person according to the usual, universal level seems good” (32-33). “A member of the English Parliament, in the heat of enthusiasm, allowed himself to express the following opinion: “every person has his own price for which he will sell himself.” If this is true (which everyone can decide for himself) - if there is nowhere such a virtue for which no temptation can be found to overthrow it at once - if the question of whether a good or an evil spirit will win us over to its side is decided only by those who offer and promise speedy retribution - for people in general what the apostle said becomes true: “Here there is no difference, here are all sinners, there is no one who does good, – not a single person” (38). “If such a predisposition lies in human nature, then it means that man has a natural predisposition to evil. And this predisposition itself - since it must ultimately be sought in free will, which means it can also be subject to imputation - is morally evil... rather, it should be called the perversion of the heart... a well-known deliberate deceit of the human heart, namely: to deceive oneself in the area of ​​one’s own good or evil moods” (36-37). The source of this evil is in human freedom, moreover, of each individual; Kant therefore denies original universal sin, which damages the very nature of man. This natural predisposition to evil, although it cannot be destroyed by human forces, “at the same time it can be overcome, since it appears in man as a free-living being (36). “How is it possible that in the natural order an evil person will of himself become a good person, this surpasses all our concepts. For how can an evil tree bear good fruit?” (44–45). And yet the commandment: you can, because you must, sounds without weakening in the soul (45). It is not enough just to change morals for some external reasons (as “the immoderate returns to moderation for the sake of health, the false to truth for the sake of honor,” or how society can restore economic solidarity through socialism for the benefit of all), no, it requires a change of heart, “a revolution in the way of thinking of a person” (47), a new birth, which is spoken of in the conversation with Nicodemus. Does this task not exceed human strength, Kant rightly asks himself, but answers: “And yet duty commands us to be like this, and it commands us nothing except what is doable for us” (47). It was impossible to get closer to the very central nerve of Christianity - the doctrine of redemption by grace-filled help from above, but, having approached it, Kant rushed away with renewed vigor, again to his idealistic theology of man, to the doctrine of self-salvation and self-redemption of man, and the work of I. Christ receives from him the symbolic and representative meaning of this self-redemption of man. For this, it turns out that only the initial moral inclination in us in general (49) and the constant movement from better to worse 7 are sufficient. Having looked so deeply into the human heart and seeing the snake of sin nesting in it, he did not come to horror or despair, but found in this a new support for human pride, for how else can this doctrine of self-redemption be called? After talking with the rich young man, the Lord said: “It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God. Those who heard this said: who can be saved? but He answered: What is impossible with men is possible with God” (Luke 18:25–27). Kant claims that a person can go through the eye of a needle, he can, because he must, and he calls faith in redemption “the opium of the conscience” (80, note). Nevertheless, the stern and sublime rigorism of Kant’s ethics of duty, although it places unbearable burdens on weak shoulders and is therefore guilty of arrogance, nevertheless, in its moral seriousness and deep consciousness of sin and evil in man, stands immeasurably higher than those optimistic teachings about natural harmony, according to which everything in a person is well, and he does not need to fight with himself, but can follow your instincts and see in this following the highest norm and the highest freedom. In order to present the views of Vl. S. Solovyov in the respect that interests us, we would have to reconsider his entire teaching, in which the question of evil is given such a prominent place. At different periods of his life and work, Vl. turned to him. Soloviev. The inspired work of his youth, “The Spiritual Foundations of Life,” and the ripe fruit of the pre-sunset period, “The Justification of Good,” and his swan song, the brilliant “Three Conversations,” are dedicated to the doctrine of moral evil or sin. “Reason and conscience,” we read in the preface to “Spiritual Foundations of Life,” “convict our mortal life as bad and untenable and require correction. A person immersed in this bad life must, in order to correct it, find support outside of it. The believer finds such support in religion. The task of religion is to revive and sanctify our life, to combine it with the divine life” 8. Our nature is characterized by the consciousness of our duty, but it does not yet give us the strength to fulfill it. “The sinful nature is for us something given, irresistible. In order to change or correct our sinful nature, it is necessary that some other, real and therefore capable of action, beginning of another life be revealed in us, in addition to the present, bad nature... This new good life, which is given to a person, is therefore called grace... In order to really take the path of grace, recognition of the mind is not enough, but a feat of will is needed: a person must move to accept grace, or the power of God into himself” 9. This grace is given by the Church to those participating in its life, and the basis of human salvation is the Calvary sacrifice. We have before us a doctrine which in general resembles Augustinianism, although freed from some of its fatalism and giving more space to human effort and freedom. In “The Justification of Good” the primary principle of morality is Vl. Solovyov believes shame: “I am ashamed, therefore, I exist, not only physically, but also morally; I am ashamed of my animality, therefore, I still exist as a person.” “The feeling of shame is aroused (moreover) not by the abuse of a certain organic function, but by the simple discovery of this function: the very fact of nature is felt as shameful... Here... the highest dignity of man... testifies to itself that it is still preserved in the depths of the being” 10. “The basic moral feeling of shame actually embodies a person’s negative attitude towards the animal nature that takes possession of him... This self-affirmation of moral dignity through the action of reason is elevated to the principle of asceticism.” The subject of asceticism is not the material side of existence in general, but the subordination of the spirit to it, the capture of the spiritual being in man from the side of material life. The norm here is: “animal life must be subordinated to spiritual life”; but this submission is bought by man’s tireless struggle with the lower sides of his being, or with the flesh, which is nothing more than “excited animality, going beyond its limits, ceasing to serve as matter, or the hidden (potential) basis, of spiritual life.” “The flesh is strong only by the weakness of the spirit, it lives only by its death. Hence the general maxim of asceticism: subordinate the flesh to the spirit, to the extent necessary for its dignity and independence... and, at least, do not be an enslaved servant of rebellious matter” 11. In a translation from Petrarch, Solovyov prayerfully appeals to the Most Pure Virgin: Mad passion, evil burning You have seen unearthly torment. Saved by them, why do I suffer? The defeated enemy owns me! “Three Conversations” is mainly devoted to the question of evil. Here we read: “Evil really exists, and it is expressed not in the absence of good alone, but in positive resistance and the predominance of lower qualities over higher ones in all areas of existence. There is individual evil - it is expressed in the fact that the lower side of man, bestial and brutal passions, resists the best aspirations of the soul and overpowers them in the vast majority of people. There is social evil... there is, finally, physical evil” (547). In the fight against individual evil, in addition to conscience and mind, we need the inspiration of good, or the direct and positive effect of the good principle itself on us and in us. With such assistance from above, both mind and conscience become reliable assistants to goodness itself, and morality, instead of always dubious “good behavior,” becomes undoubtedly life in goodness itself... to end in the living unity of the resurrected past with the realized future in that eternal present Kingdom of God, which, although it will be on earth, will only be on a new earth, lovingly betrothed to a new heaven” 12. Now let us turn to the characteristics of teachings of the opposite type. Their common feature is an optimistic understanding of human nature and denial or ignoring and weakening of the power of evil and sin. In the Greek anthropomorphic religion, an aesthetic ideal of man is developed, which actually stands outside of ethics, “beyond good and evil,” and consists in the harmonious development of a person’s natural abilities, in fitness or goodness (ϰαλοϰἀγαϑία). Hence, harmony and measure are the generally accepted principles of all Greek ethics; it expresses, one might say, the basic feeling of Hellenism. And later, during the Renaissance, when pagan antiquity was rediscovered, this aesthetic ethics 13, this love for a natural person, from which, to a certain extent, the art of the Renaissance grew, was received with particular triumph. The second feature of ancient ethics that should be noted here is its intellectualism, associated with the conviction that evil is a delusion, and virtue is therefore a subject of study. The root of evil moves from the heart and will to the mind, and thereby the fundamental damage of human nature is denied. This understanding found its expression in the greatest righteous man of antiquity - Socrates 14. “No one is happy, no one is blissful against his will” and “no one is wicked voluntarily.” Without correct knowledge, correct action is impossible, and where there is correct knowledge, “correct action” goes without saying. Therefore, “everything: justice, prudence, and courage - all this is knowledge” (“Protagoras”). No one is therefore voluntarily evil, because no one wants to be consciously unhappy. In the teachings of Socrates, the possibility of a blind irrational will to evil, or Satanism, an attraction to evil, even fully conscious, is denied. And this idea of ​​ethical intellectualism, the idea of ​​a person as a tabula rasa, on which everything can be written through teaching and education, was also deeply accepted in modern times and formed the basis of many modern theories. Faith in the harmony of human nature, long suppressed by the ascetic worldview of the Middle Ages, flares up with elemental force and victorious triumph in the Renaissance, when natural man, as it were, reveals himself in his beauty and strength. “Man exists for himself” (Latini), “man can make of himself whatever he wants” (Alberti), “the nature of our spirit is universal” (Palmieri), “man strives to be like God everywhere and always” (Ficino). Here are sayings 15 that reflect the spirit of the new era, its faith and hope. And this spirit grows stronger in subsequent history, reaching its greatest tension in modern times. The era of “enlightenment” (Aufklärung), especially the 18th century, professed with particular passion the belief in natural man and the natural state. She attributed to this man the ability of infallibility in divine and human affairs: all the truths of religion are accessible to him and, in view of the presence of this “natural” religion, the help of supernatural revelation, which is a mixture of survivals and superstitions, is unnecessary: Voltaire’s écrasez l’infâme becomes the battle cry of the era, and during the great French Revolution this was expressed in the direct persecution of Christianity and an attempt to replace it with a natural religion of reason or the deism of Robespierre. Perfect morality is also available to man, not requiring religious sanction and drawing its strength from the natural harmony of human nature. Different methods of constructing morality were tried: both aesthetic (Shaftesbury) and sympathetic (Ferguson, Hell. Smith), and egoistic (Smith, later Bentham), and the common premise for them is faith in the pre-established harmony of human forces and aspirations and complete oblivion of the power of sin and evil. The social philosophy of this era is also determined by this belief in a state of nature, from which, although the distorted reality “l'ordre positif” recedes, it must be restored in force. Politicians are looking for inalienable human rights, lawyers are looking for natural law, eternal and absolute, economists are looking for a natural state in the field of economics - this is the pathos of Rousseau and Quesnay, Robespierre and Inferno. Smith. Oblivion or ignorance of the natural order and violation of its norms are the main and even the only source of evil, individual and social. “Enlightenment” is needed in order to recognize and restore it - hence the belief in enlightenment constitutes the pathos of this entire era: the intellectualism of antiquity is being revived with unprecedented force. Naturally, the consciousness of this era, although it was not completely irreligious or anti-religious, was undoubtedly non-Christian, because at its core it denied the main postulate of Christianity - the impossibility of self-salvation and the need for redemption. The 19th century brought a change to this worldview: it replaced abstract and colorless deism with natural-scientific mechanical materialism or energitism, and in the religious field it proclaimed the religion of man-theism: homo homini deus est (man is god to man), says the self-consciousness of the era through the mouth of Feuerbach. What teaching about the moral nature of man do we find here? On the one hand, the idea is developed here that man is entirely a product of his environment and in himself is neither good nor evil, but can be educated to good and evil; At the same time, of course, only the optimistic side of this dilemma is especially emphasized, namely, that a person, under appropriate conditions, is capable of limitless improvement and harmonious progress. On the other hand, the opinion is also put forward that even if individual individuals may have one-sided weaknesses or vices, then they are completely harmonized in the human race, taken in its totality, as a whole: here the minuses, so to speak, are canceled out by the corresponding pluses, and vice versa. This is what Feuerbach teaches, for example. We find a very curious and characteristic twist on this idea in the famous French socialist Fourier, whose teaching is particularly remarkable because “in it the central place is given to the theory of passions and drives; in them he sees the main basis of society. All human passions and inclinations, teaches Fourier, are invested by God and are in themselves legitimate, healthy and beautiful. And only people, not comprehending the purposes of God, began to distinguish between bad and good passions and subordinate them to morality. “Duty comes from men, attraction comes from God” (le devoir vient des hommes, l'attraction de Dieu). Therefore, one must resolutely overcome the old morality and consider all inclinations to be useful, pure and beneficial. Passionate attraction turns out to be the lever with which Fourier wants to transfer the old society onto new tracks. The problem of social reform boils down to this: to give a harmonious outcome to various passionate inclinations, understanding their diverse nature, arranging them in harmonious “series” and groups, and on this diversity, in the fullness of satisfied passions, to found a morally free and happy society that will ultimately master the forces of nature and turn the globe into paradise. It seems that greater trust in human nature, greater optimism in relation to it than in Fourier’s social system has not yet been expressed in history: glimpses of genius here are combined with moral madness, spiritual blindness and eccentricity. We need not set out in detail this whole system, which is presented in a strange and confusing form. To illustrate, I will give just one example, here it is especially interesting: how is the question of gender relations resolved? Of course, for Fourier, sexual desire, like any other passionate movement of the soul, comes from God, is in itself pure and immaculate and is subject to satisfaction in the greatest completeness. “Freedom in love affairs transforms most of our vices into virtues.” Although in the future society “vestalat”, that is, virginity for those who wish, is allowed, the general rule is complete freedom in sexual relations. A relationship of three kinds is established between a man and a woman; spouses, producers (no more than one child) and lovers, and everyone is free to carry out these relationships in different combinations, as desired; monogamy is rejected in principle, because, of course, monogamous marriage is based on ascetic condemnation and suppression of attraction to extramarital affairs, while no attraction should be suppressed. However, even Fourier still sees an independent problem to be resolved in the existing disharmony of passions, while most other socialists and social reformers do not even see a problem here. They consider a person exclusively as a product of the social environment: some - economic, and others - socio-political and, therefore, the personality for them is, essentially, an empty place. The only things that differ in different teachings are the levers that can be used to move the globe from its current orbit: for Bentham it is personal benefit, for Marx it is class interest and the development of productive forces, for Spencer it is evolution, for positivists it is the laws of intellectual progress. To which of these two types should the moral worldview of L.N. Tolstoy be classified? It does not fit entirely into either of them, but has features characteristic of both. Based on the fundamentals of his understanding of the world and man, Tolstoy should undoubtedly be classified as the second type, since he shares the belief in a natural person, intact at his core and perverted only by false education - “temptations and deceptions.” The organ of infallibility in man is his “mind,” through which religious truth is learned. As is known, Tolstoy’s religious worldview is pure, unalloyed rationalism, as it was defined back in the age of “enlightenment” and is characteristic of the so-called. deism. And this rationalism is inevitably combined with the Socratic understanding of morality, that is, with the conviction that evil occurs as a result of ignorance or error and therefore can be taught. “As soon as a person awakens to rational consciousness, this consciousness tells him that he desires the good” and “the clearer and firmer the mind becomes,” the stronger this “desire for the good of everything that exists” is strengthened 16. This is why Tolstoy is so hostile to the idea of ​​revelation, as well as the possible super-reasonableness of religious doctrine. For him, all these are “deceptions of faith” 17, “perversions” of reason. In order to free oneself from the deceptions of faith in general, a person must remember and understand that the only instrument of knowledge that he owns is his mind 18. “Faith is knowledge of what a person is and why he lives in the world, and all reasonable people had and have such faith... The teachings of the wisest and kindest people all basically agree on one thing” 19. From here his attitude towards various historical religions and, so to speak, his method of teaching becomes clear: from all of them he takes out of the brackets that which is common to all and consistent with reason, and this universal and natural teaching of faith is considered the truth, not distorted by various superstitions and deceptions. This is the task for which the “Circle of Reading” was compiled; this determines Tolstoy’s attitude towards church Christianity, to which he is so hostile, considering it a harmful superstition. Hence, his fierce hostility to that which forms the very basis of church life, to the doctrine of original sin or, to put it in Kantian terms, of radical evil in human nature, and even more so of redemption from sin by the sacrifice of Calvary and of the grace given by the Church in the sacraments and prayers, is understandable and natural. In his opinion, “the dogma of the fall and redemption of man has obscured from people the most important and legitimate area of ​​human activity and has excluded from the entire field of human knowledge the knowledge of what a person should do in order for him to be happier and better” 20 . Tolstoy's religion is essentially a religion of self-righteousness and self-salvation through reason and reasonable behavior; it comes somewhat closer here to the teachings of Kant in its second part, which is so little consistent with the first. Of the countless expressions of this hostility to the doctrine of the atonement and faith in the Redeemer, I will quote only one, borrowed from materials only recently becoming available to the public. I mean the correspondence of L.N. Tolstoy with his aunt, gr., published by the Tolstoy Museum. A. A. Tolstoy. This correspondence, together with her memoirs, generally speaking, represents the most lively, interesting and valuable of the biographical materials about Tolstoy, and this is explained by the fact that this time his correspondent herself represented a large and interesting personality - at times she decisively overshadows even her famous nephew. In addition, unlike most people around Tolstoy, she combines complete independence and a critical attitude towards him with ardent friendship. A. A. Tolstaya consciously and confidently belonged to the Orthodox Church, and therefore it is clear that as Tolstoy fell more and more into “Tolstoyism,” a religious difference emerged between them, which finds expression in this correspondence covering the period 1857–1903. And, naturally, the dogma of atonement comes first in these disagreements. She tells, among other things, in her memoirs how Tolstoy in 1897, at their last meeting in St. Petersburg, “without any reason, began to prove that every reasonable person can save himself and that he actually doesn’t need anyone for this.” It was not difficult to understand who he meant by the word no one - and my heart shuddered and ached, as it used to” 21. She writes to him about this, among other things, the following: “The consciousness of St. Paul: “I do not do the good that I want, but I do the evil that I do not want” (Rom. VII, 19) must be repeated in the soul of every rational being. Yes, I want good, and my sinful nature resists this desire at every step of my life. Who will help me overcome this duality, except the grace of the Holy Spirit, which Christ commands to call upon and which he promises to send down to all who ask for it fervently and persistently. Without this help, I would fall into complete madness, whereas you consider it possible to accomplish only by the force of your own will. At least this idea is found in all your writings... How can we, with all our shortcomings, fulfill this divine teaching in its vast sense? Who will atone for our countless failures and the mass of sins we committed before we came to the consciousness of this teaching? Is there sufficient strength in our hearts to arouse within ourselves the repentance corresponding to our fall? We are barely aware of the slightest part of the evil that overwhelms our lives” 22. “Not a single stone can be thrown out of this sacred edifice (church teaching) without disturbing the harmony of the whole. But above all, most of all I value the face of the Savior, the Savior of the whole world and my personal Savior, without whose atoning sacrifice salvation is unthinkable. I believe that only by communicating with Him through prayer and communion of His body and His blood can I be cleansed from sins, and by the power of St. Spirit to be strengthened on the path to His eternal kingdom... The Church for me is a vessel that keeps the sacraments that are both dear and necessary to me... It seems to me, concludes A.A. Tolstaya, “that you are delving into that already well-known teaching that denies the God-man, but recognizes the man-god” 23. In L. N. Tolstoy’s response letters, all the emphasis that he had precisely against the dogma of atonement is revealed. He writes: “If I definitely do one bad thing in my life and don’t become even a hair better, that is, I don’t start doing a little less bad, then I’m certainly lying, saying that I want to do good. If a person wants to do good not for people, but for God, then he always moves on the path of good... all of life is a movement along this path.” He further refers to the mercy and forgiveness of God, “to the non-existence of sins before God for a person who loves Him,” and even gives the following argument to set aside the idea of ​​atonement: “wouldn’t it be easier for God to directly forgive my sins?..” “You say that this help happened 1880 years ago, but I think that God, as he has always been, is the same now, and always provides help to people” 24. Based on these and other judgments of similar content, one could assume that Tolstoy has a generally weak consciousness of sin and its poisonous power under the pretext of God’s mercy, in other words, one can understand this as the teaching of God’s mercy not to man, but to sin, which is, of course, hidden atheism, although it is often preached as Christianity. And yet, if applied to Tolstoy, this would be unfair. He looked too deeply into the human soul, he learned too much from the experience of his own life, to, together with optimists, completely reject the power of sin and proclaim the moral health of natural man. On the contrary, in nothing is Tolstoy so close to church Christianity as in the consciousness of sin, its power and invincibility, before which talk of self-salvation seems childish. Tolstoy knew too well in the arrogant man-god the dirty man-beast. This is how he speaks about sin in his latest collection, “The Way of Life”: “Man is born in sins. All sins come from the body, but the spirit lives in man and fights with the body. The whole life of a person is a struggle between the spirit and the body. It is a big mistake to think that you can be freed from sin through faith or forgiveness from people. Nothing can free you from sin. You can only recognize your sin and try not to repeat it. If in the future you refuse to fight, then you abandon the main task of life... Woe to the person who tells himself that he has been freed from sins” 25. “Man is neither a beast nor an angel, but an angel born from a beast is a spiritual being born from an animal, and our entire stay in this world is nothing more than this birth” 26. In this teaching, Tolstoy actually comes over to the side of the doctrine of “radical evil” in human nature. Leaving aside the question of how consistent both parts of this teaching can be, let’s see what this spiritual sight, knowing the power of sin and all human powerlessness to completely overcome it, gives him? Tolstoy, a moralist and preacher, never tires of repeating that the very path of fighting sin is filled with a feeling of approaching God and is therefore joyful; he often speaks of joy and peace as something already achieved on various occasions. For example, in the already quoted letter to A. A. Tolstoy we read: “This movement is joyful, firstly, because the closer to the light, the better; secondly, by the fact that with each new step you see how little you have done and how much more of this joyful path lies ahead... a person, having begun this true life, always knows and can believe, looking back, that no matter how slowly, he is approaching the light and recognizes this direction, and in moving in this direction he puts his life.” This is the main nerve of Tolstoy’s religious preaching and its pathos: the joy of the path and the joy of realizing how much of this path remains. Joy is the strength of every religion. With joy, Christianity conquered the world in the hearts of God’s chosen ones. Of course, this is a completely different joy and about something different than Tolstoy’s, but real joy about the “Holy Spirit” is, perhaps, the only document of religious authenticity in general. And Tolstoy understood this well, and therefore he often and insistently spoke about the joy he had achieved, as if trying to assure someone of this, perhaps before everyone else, himself. But what does Tolstoy, the great artist, tell us about this? We have already said that works of art can be considered not only as such, but also as an expression of the author’s soul, its self-testimony; in his work the artist gives first of all himself; it is in this sense a confession, a kind of spiritual autobiography, a diary. And if you look from this point of view at the two most significant works of Tolstoy that were published after his death, namely “The Devil” and “Father of Sergius”, then it is especially necessary to say about them that the depths of the heart open up in them, those depths from which the high and the low come, where vice snakes, anger bubbles, despair swirls, and both of them are a cry of religious despair and doubt, in them one can hear the groan of human powerlessness, hopelessness, God-forsakenness. I saw the night on your hearts, And I saw how snakes curled in it. Tolstoy brought the source of light closer to that darkness in which an eye that has not received religious sight cannot discern anything, but it illuminated only a bottomless abyss, revealing its fatal jaws. And that’s why these pages are filled with horror and melancholy and fall on the soul with a hopeless nightmare. Unlike the tendentiously conceived, albeit unsuccessful, “Resurrection,” no one is “resurrected” in them; human souls fatally perish in them and in their fall they destroy other existences with them. The irresistible power of the devil and the impotence of good - this is their true theme. The man-beast mercilessly strangles a person - both in everyday meanness and unpretentiousness, and at the heights, where he already considers himself a man-god. Here, therefore, the same eternal problem of evil and sin in the human soul is posed, and it is artistically resolved in the most pessimistic sense. The horror of life and the horror of life is the true theme of these stories, it is almost Andreevism: only here there is no mannered posing, but genuine mental anguish. A suffocating heat blows from these nightmarish pages; they poison the soul with their torment, their truth, but also their lies, and, in comparison with their fiery tongue, the assurances of a resonating preacher that everything is good and joyful seem like babble, and, moreover, it is equally joyful to recognize your movement towards the ideal, and the distance of this ideal, and the length of the remaining “joyful” path (letter to A. A. Tolstoy) - if only the preacher tried to console his heroes with these considerations in their falls. These stories are dedicated to two powerful passions and temptations - the demons of fornication and pride: "The Devil" was written in 1889, i.e. in the same year when the "Kreutzer Sonata" was written. Like the last one, this story is full of sultry, scorching sensuality, disturbing and inflaming; It’s hard to even imagine that these things came from the pen of a 60-year-old man (here we must also add pages from “Resurrection”, which describes the seduction of Katyusha, and from “Father Sergius”, with a description of the lady’s overnight stay and his fall), and we must admit that with all the erotic excitement of the latest fiction, there are few pages in it filled with such bloody and painful sensuality as these - Even in Tolstoy’s early works, where this element is almost never absent, its evil, hellish flame is not felt to such an extent. Apparently, we are dealing here with some kind of deep intimate experience. Before talking about “The Devil,” let us briefly note how questions about gender and sexual love are generally interpreted by Tolstoy. In his attitude to this issue, there is one side that should be highlighted as indisputable: this is his preaching of possible purity in relations between the sexes, rigorism in the ethics of sex. One can only reverently, with a feeling of deep gratitude, bow before this powerful sermon. He sown a lot of invisible good in souls with this sermon; it must be thought that he helped many in the fight against the “devil” of lust. It is remarkable that Tolstoy, in those aspects of his sermon in which it is most powerful and vital, unconsciously approaches church ethics and repeats its demands. In particular, on the issue of sexual intercourse, he completely shares the ascetic ethics of the Church, which, firstly, places virginity above marriage, and secondly, considers married life as subject to a certain ascetic regulation. Tolstoy, according to his custom, discovers open America, preaches these old truths in the “Kreutzer Sonata” (afterword) in a paradoxical, exaggerated and therefore unacceptable form. In his last collection, “The Way of Life,” we find the same teaching presented in a calmer form. Here we read, for example: “It’s good to live in an honest marriage, but it’s better to never get married. Rare people can. But good for those who can. It is not true that chastity is contrary to human nature. Chastity is possible and gives incomparably more benefits than even a happy marriage. Christian teaching does not give the same rules for everyone 27 ; in everything it only indicates the perfection to which one must approach; the same is true in the sexual issue: perfection is complete chastity. Any greater or lesser approach to sexual chastity, through effort, is a greater or lesser fulfillment of the teaching. Marriage is justified and sanctified only by children, by the fact that if we ourselves cannot do everything that God wants from us, then at least through children, by raising them, we can serve the cause of God. And therefore, a marriage in which the spouses do not want to have children is worse than adultery and any debauchery. An unspoiled person always feels disgusted and ashamed to think and talk about sexual intercourse. Take care of this feeling. It is not for nothing that it is embedded in the souls of people” 28. Tolstoy's ethics on the sexual issue come closest to the most ascetic form of Christian ethics, to monastic ethics, where the struggle with sex is not life-or-death, and the ideal is a supra-sexual and extra-sexual equal-angel state. However, this religious ideal in Tolstoy, as well as in S. Solovyov, about the “meaning of love”, which in the ethics of sex comes close to complete coincidence with it on the common ground of church ethical teaching, but in matters of the metaphysics of sex is the complete opposite. In Tolstoy’s work there is one deep-lying feature that becomes more and more clearly visible over time: the one-sidedness of the perception of gender. His own attitude towards a woman fluctuates between two poles: she is either a female, poisoned by the poison of sensuality (“Kreutzer Sonata”, “Devil”), a vessel of the devil, almost not a person, or she is an abstract person, a sexless creature, no different from a man: “Every woman for a man, first of all, should be a sister, and every man for a woman - a brother” 29. Therefore, for Tolstoy, marriage is only a somewhat regulated form of debauchery, and in general there is no love, apart from the desire for sexual intercourse, and even more so there is no femininity as a cosmic and all-human principle that mystically “attracts to itself” (Goethe) not by sexual passion, but by pure and eternal love; there is no mystery of the unification of the two sexes into one, which, as the Church teaches, is accomplished in marriage in the image of the mystery of Christ and the Church; in a word, there is no supersensible love either in marriage or outside of marriage. But it is precisely this kind of love that should lie at the basis of marriage; We are called to preserve and ignite it, and if it goes out - whether under the burden of spiritual decline or sensuality - this is a greater sin than in the sins and impulses of sensuality. But this love, the heavenly Aphrodite, is contained and inextricably linked with this sinful and mortal body, lust, the earthly Aphrodite, and the mystery of childbirth is also connected with it: “in iniquities I was conceived and in sins my mother gave birth to me.” And in this interweaving, inseparability, but at the same time the diversity of both principles of love lies its tragedy, that fatal, painful and contradictory duality of “the ideal of the Madonna and the ideal of Sodom,” about which Dostoevsky complained, and this tragedy of love cannot be harmonized and cannot be resolved within the confines of earthly life; it substantiates the asceticism of love and the feat of love, its cross, of which the Church reminds those getting married in the rite of the sacrament of marriage with a song about martyrs. This dual nature of love and its ideal tasks were expressed by Soloviev in his articles “On the Meaning of Love,” and therefore his asceticism is at the same time the apotheosis of love, the “Song of Songs,” in contrast to Tolstoy’s asceticism, where love is completely killed and men and women turn into only brothers and sisters. In Tolstoy’s works of art, only occasionally does the moment of this highest clairvoyant and believing love flash, only to immediately give way completely to lust. Neither Pozdnyshev nor Irtenev know love at all, and in Nekhlyudov’s love for Katyusha this light of another world only flashes and goes out. “In love between a man and a woman there is always one minute when this love reaches its zenith, when there is nothing conscious, rational and nothing sensual in it. This night of Christ’s Bright Resurrection was such a moment for Nekhlyudov.” Yes, this is one minute, but it speaks more and louder than years - in such moments people are born and die spiritually... In Tolstoy's attitude to gender and to women, there is something that brings him closer to Otto Weininger, on the one hand, and to V.V. Rozanov, on the other. Weininger arrived at the same disdain for sex and aversion to marriage, which necessarily leads him to preach about complete sexual asceticism and the cessation of childbearing associated with it, but the personal outcome of his drama - his fatal suicide - is known to everyone. For Weininger, this conclusion is associated with such an outright denial of femininity, reducing it to mere lust and non-existence, more radical than which has not been expressed in literature: not only sexual intercourse is denied here, but also love. The opposite pole, but in the same plane, is occupied by V.V. Rozanov, who, together with Tolstoy, reduces the essence of love to sexual intercourse, but, in contrast to Tolstoy and all of Christianity, denies and condemns the feeling of sexual modesty and asceticism and seeks to restore the pagan or, as he mistakenly believes, the Old Testament rehabilitation of the flesh - and even in a more radical form than many of the pagan socialists did. There is complete agreement between Tolstoy and Rozanov on this issue, only the difference in moral coefficients remains: in what Tolstoy sees as sin and fall, Rozanov sees good and normal; but erotic materialism, if I may put it this way, in their understanding of the nature of love is the same, and it is equally hostile to the romanticism of love. For them, gender is completely equated with sexuality and is exhausted by it. From this it is clear that the whole scheme of the tragedy of love is extremely simplified; it comes down to the fight against lust and falls, understood only in a physical sense. It cannot be denied, of course, that this point really concentrates the intensity of the mysteries of love and its collisions, but it is by no means reduced to it. Nevertheless, in Tolstoy we find, at least in the cycle of works of the 80–90s, only such a simplified and crude formulation of the sexual question; the artistic experiment that he performs, solving the problem that torments him, includes only these elements, poses it in a deliberately simplified form. From this, as much as it loses in content and meaning, it gains in strength. But it is impossible to accept this simplified formulation of the question, in which moral life or death, even the question of the existence or non-existence of God, is decided by whether a person can emerge victorious in the fight against the temptation of sex. Fortunately or unfortunately, life is not so simple, and there are neither indelible sins nor completely irreparable situations. Now let's turn to the "Devil". Of course, everyone knows this short story, which undoubtedly belongs to the artistic gems of Tolstoy’s work. Its strength and irresistibility lies in the extraordinary, truly ingenious simplicity of its design and artistic means; such simplicity is a spiritual luxury available only to a great master. And it tells the most ordinary everyday episode about how a young gentleman had a fleeting relationship with a peasant woman, but then got married and considered the past consigned to complete oblivion, when suddenly this past resurrects in him with an irresistible, all-destroying force: an all-consuming passion for this peasant woman awoke, and she, in the end, conquers everything and leads the hero to crime and suicide or death (in two versions). Leaving aside a number of minor, but superbly sculpted figures, let us focus on the main character - Irtenev and his drama. If his physical appearance was attractive, then “his spiritual appearance was such that the more someone knew him, the more they loved him... her only mother loved him... his comrades from the gymnasium and university always especially not only loved, but also respected him. He had the same effect on all strangers.” He tries to conscientiously go about his business, run the household, and in certain respects, although he does not rise above the average level, he shows shy bashfulness and, in any case, a complete lack of cynicism. Even yielding to animal attraction, he realizes that “in the depths of his soul there was a stricter judge who did not approve of this, and hoped that this would be the last time” (14). After marriage, which gave him the comfort of life or “family happiness,” which is described with epic ridicule, he considers his former life completely finished, when suddenly, under the influence of chance encounters, an old passion flares up. His struggle with himself is described with amazing simplicity and truthfulness. “He felt that he was losing control over himself, becoming almost crazy. His severity towards himself did not weaken one bit; on the contrary, he saw all the vileness of his desires, even his actions... He knew that only shame in front of people, in front of her, and probably in front of himself, was holding him back. And he knew that he was looking for conditions in which this shame would not be noticeable... And therefore he knew that he was a vile criminal, and he despised and hated himself with all the strength of his soul... every day he prayed to God to strengthen him and save him from destruction; every day he decided that from now on he would not take a single step, would not look back at her, would forget her. Every day he came up with means to get rid of this obsession, and used these means. But it was all in vain” (40). The story ends with two options: one - he kills only himself, the other - Stepanida, and spiritually himself. Irtenev rushes about in despair before the crime: “Lord! Yes, there is no God. There is a devil. And it is she. He has taken possession of me. But I don’t want, I don’t want. The devil, yes, the devil.” And with these thoughts he kills her. This is how the gospel commandment is interpreted here in a peculiar way, which is strange and in an incomprehensible way, it is put as the epigraph of the story: “If your eye seduces, tear it out, if your hand, then cut it off.” Here it is not the arm or the leg that is destroyed, but life itself: death is better than life in the power of the devil reigning in the world, and Tolstoy sympathetically, already from himself, adds: “And indeed, if Evgeny Irtenev was mentally ill when he committed his crime, then all people are also mentally ill. these are, undoubtedly, those who see signs of madness in other people, which they do not see in themselves” (54). Almost the same acquittal verdict can be seen between the lines regarding Pozdnyshev, who became a victim of the same devil. From world evil and suffering, Schopenhauer teaches to look for a way out in peace, in killing the will to live; The Stoics taught wise and calm suicide, but where can you escape from the power of the devil? Does death itself free you from it? From a Christian point of view, there is no more destructive sin and illness than despair and despondency. As a pendant to Tolstoy’s story, I would like to bring here a story from “Three Conversations” by Vl., full of sunny clarity and splashing laughter. Solovyov about how two monks from the Nitrian desert, both strict ascetics, ended up in Alexandria, where they caroused with drunkards and harlots for three days and three nights, and then went back to the desert. One is completely overwhelmed by remorse and repentance, and the other goes and sings psalms in a joyful voice, and when the first began to reproach him for not lamenting his sins, he answers: “What should I be sad about? - What about Alexandria? Glory to the Almighty, who guards this famous and pious city! - What were we doing in Alexandria? “It is known what they did: they sold baskets, they bowed to St. Mark, they visited other churches, they went into the chambers of the pious city governor, they talked with the monk-loving Domina Leonila... - Well, didn’t we spend the night in a whorehouse? - God bless! We spent the evening and night in the patriarch's courtyard. - Unhappy! Did anyone kiss us in order to keep silent about something worse? “And the father of fathers, the most pious archbishop, honored us with a holy kiss. - Why are you making fun of me, or what? Or did the devil himself possess you because of yesterday’s abominations? You kissed nasty harlots, you damned one! “Well, I don’t know who the devil has taken possession of: me, when I rejoice in the gifts of God and the goodwill of the clergy towards us and praise the Creator along with all creation, or in you, when you are raging here...” The matter ended with the fact that one, falling into complete despair about his salvation, abandoned the desert, returned to Alexandria, began to lead a depraved life and was executed as a criminal, while the second became a renowned saint. “This means,” adds Barsanuphius (on whose behalf the story is told), “all sins are not a problem, except for one thing – despondency” (495 pp.), “because despair is born from it, and despair is actually not a sin, but spiritual death itself” (491). “I don’t see,” Solovyov wrote about Tolstoy’s work here, “signs of inspiration of goodness... I also don’t see joyful and blessed peace in the feeling of possessing these gifts, even if only the initial ones... If goodness is exhausted by the fulfillment of the “rule,” then where is the place for inspiration?” (551). In church teaching and ascetic literature, the opinion is firmly established that a person on his own, without the help of grace given by the Church, is unable to overcome sin in himself in general and, in particular, overcome evil lust. “For not to feel the sting of the flesh would in some way mean that he who is in the body would come out of the flesh, and that he who is clothed with mortal flesh would become above nature. And therefore, it is impossible for a person, so to speak, to fly on his own wings to such a high heavenly reward, if the grace of God does not lift him up from the dirt of the earth with the gift of chastity” 30. “To destroy unclean lust in one’s own flesh is a greater miracle than to expel unclean spirits from the bodies of others; ridding one’s own heart of the painful ailments of despondency is much more important than healing the bodily infirmities and illnesses of another” 31 . This is how the Church teaches, and that is why there is no teaching more alien and unacceptable for it than about self-salvation and self-righteousness, which is precisely the pathos of Tolstoy’s preaching. But in the story “The Devil” he makes, as it were, an artistic test of precisely this teaching of his, and, it seems to me, there cannot be a more destructive criticism of the doctrine of self-salvation and self-righteousness than this artistic self-criticism. For this artistic experiment, with mathematical self-evidence, leads to the damnation of life, the rejection of the world as the kingdom of the devil and to suicide as the only worthy way out: either a gun or the Crucifixion, as was realized in Huysmans’s soul. A certain pessimism as a consequence of the acuteness of the feeling of sin and evil is a necessary stage of religious insight - you need to recognize the entire misery of your situation in order to look for an outcome from it, and while the prodigal son is still satisfied with his life “in a distant country,” he will not get up and go to his father. But if this insight alone exhausts the matter, despair inevitably sets in, along with the consciousness of one’s powerlessness. This pre-dawn state of the human soul is depicted in the story “The Devil”; in this one-sidedness are its strengths and weaknesses, its truth and its blasphemous lies, for if this image of the tragedy of sin is truthful, then this curse of the world is blasphemous. “Father Sergius” as a work of art is much less integral than “The Devil” written “in one gulp”, and generally stands much lower than it. First of all, it has a didactic element - the entire last part, namely the story about the life of Fr. Sergius after escaping from the monastery, attributed 7 years later (1898, and the entire story was written in 1890 and 1891), which therefore has as little artistic persuasiveness and vitality as assurances about the “resurrection” of Nekhlyudov and the new life that began for him, and this denouement weakens the power and significance of the story itself. In addition, it is necessary to highlight some extraneous elements in order to understand its real meaning. O. Sergius is depicted as a monk, an old recluse and a miracle worker, and against this background his spiritual drama plays out. And it can therefore be understood as a criticism of church Christianity in its strongest representative. However, such an interpretation must also be rejected - if this plan, with Tolstoy’s constant hostility to everything ecclesiastical, at times makes itself felt, then this only interferes with the free development of his real theme. It is absolutely clear that in the image of Fr. Sergius has nothing in common with those images of elders with whom the Russian folk soul has become akin, and this image tells us not about the elder Ambrose of Optina, whose reflection we have in Dostoevsky’s Zosima. This is not Optina Pustyn, but Yasnaya Polyana, and here the well-known blouse is too visible through the monk’s robe. In a word, with all his Orthodox appearance, Fr. Sergius has removed all the real elements of Orthodox eldership from it, and it is not difficult to understand how much directly autobiographical content was put into this story. Therefore, when discussing its vital meaning, one should first of all completely abstract from the idea that it depicts church religious experience, which Tolstoy did not understand, did not know and did not want to know, and therefore could not depict. No, this is the torment of a lonely soul, cut off from the Church, isolated from the whole world, upon which the terrible weight of sin and temptation has fallen. Having the glory of a saint, but without any genuine spiritual experience, Fr. Sergius wages a desperate and unbearable struggle with the demon of pride, exhausts himself in a powerless desire to receive the gifts of love and freezes in the cold of God-forsakenness and gracelessness. The epigraph to this story could be the words of the ap. Paul: “If I give away all my possessions and give my body to be burned, but do not have love, it profits me nothing.” Fr. is exhausted from the cold of selfishness. Sergius, and whoever wants to see in this image at least some relation to Orthodox monasticism, let him ask himself in conscience whether he has at least some resemblance to these “God-bearing lamps, pure vessels of love, like Tikhon of Zadonsk, Seraphim of Sarov, Ambrose of Optina?.. All of them were nourished by a completely different religious experience than Fr. Sergius, that spirit of self-righteousness, that ideal of self-salvation by which this Tolstoyan monk, Yasnaya Polyana ascetic lives, is alien to them; they saw in love only the gift of grace, a miracle more thunderous than the bringing down of fire from heaven. “If I have the gift of prophecy and know all mysteries, and have all knowledge and all faith, so that I could move mountains, but do not have love, then I am nothing. And if I give away all my property, and give my body to be burned, and do not have love, it does me no good” (1 Cor. 13:2-3). I assume that the reader remembers the external plot of Father Sergius. He entered the monastery not out of love for God and a desire for solitude, as true ascetics enter it, but out of motives of outraged pride, as if taking revenge on someone and wanting to show something - and this pride is that hidden inner emphasis that keeps him on the ascetic path. He completely lacks that inner humility, without which there is no true monasticism, and there is no Christianity itself, and when he flagellates himself, it is the self-flagellation of a powerless proud man, and therefore his soul is burdened by a feeling of emptiness, some kind of spiritual tastelessness, deadness, on this basis terrible temptations arise, and in the end the demon of fornication destroys him, as is depicted in the short and disgusting scene of his fall. But this demon is not the hero of this play, as Tolstoy himself explains: “The struggle with the flesh is an episode or, rather, one step; the main struggle is with another – with human glory.” Or as we read in the story itself: “There were two sources of struggle: doubt and carnal lust, and both enemies always rose together. It seemed to him that these were two different enemies, whereas it was one and the same. As soon as doubt was destroyed, lust was also destroyed” (20). But the main enemy who defeats Fr. Sergius - after all, pride, narcissism and a desire for glory. “Whether he spoke instructions to people, whether he simply blessed, whether he prayed for the sick, whether he gave advice to people about the direction of their lives, whether he listened to the gratitude of the people” whom he helped either with healings, as he was told, or with teachings - he could not help but rejoice at this, he could not help but care about the consequences of his activity, about its influence on people. He thought that he was a burning lamp, and the more he felt this, the more he felt the weakening, the extinction of the Divine light of truth burning in him. “How much of what I do is for God and how much for people?” - this is the question that constantly tormented him and which he never, not only could not, but did not dare answer for himself. He felt in the depths of his soul that the devil had replaced all his activities for God with activities for people” (31-32). “He asked himself whether he loved anyone..., whether he felt a feeling of love for all these people who were with him today... He liked, needed love from them, but he did not feel love for them. Even now he had no love, no humility, no purity” (39). Such are the recognitions of this proud, cold, stoic virtue, which extorts a miracle from God through its personal effort, but forgets that “publicans and harlots will go into the Kingdom of God” (Matthew 21:31-32) ahead of the self-righteous Pharisees. O. Sergius represents that state, repeatedly described in spiritual literature, which is called “prelest” and from which disastrous breakdowns can be so easy and dangerous. And of course, Fr. Sergius, who fell and realized this fall and humbled himself in it, is closer to God than the proud recluse-miracle worker, and even closer, of course, is the simple, loving, selfless Pashenka, so warmly and vividly depicted. The vital meaning of this story is the same as the previous one: a clear consciousness of the power of evil and sin without spiritual support outside oneself, without repentance and remission of sins, without grace-filled help and rebirth leads either to spiritual numbness, “insensibility” and self-delusion, or to despair. And almost the same words express the hidden pain and torment of religious impotence and despair both in “The Devil” and in “Father Sergius.” After the fall and murder of the merchant's daughter in the soul of Fr. Sergius says only one thing: “Yes, we need to finish. There is no God. How to cum? Throw himself?.. Hang himself?.. It seemed so possible and close that he was horrified and wanted, as usual in moments of despair, to pray. But there was no one to pray to—there was no God” (41). We feel how powerless, pale and even inappropriate abstract reasoning is in contrast to artistic images. An artist can only be trusted by an artist. That is why we are naturally inclined to seek salvation from this nightmare under the spiritual shelter of another great artist, who, in any case, knew the depths of evil and sin no less than Tolstoy, was no less tempted by unbelief and doubt, but in the struggle in which Tolstoy fell defeated, he emerged victorious, although covered in blood from his wounds. Of course, I mean Dostoevsky, in particular, the last confession of his soul and his posthumous testament “The Brothers Karamazov”. If we consider this work primarily as an artistic story about oneself or self-testimony, as we considered the works of Tolstoy, then it is impossible not to see that despite all the colossal differences between “The Brothers Karamazov” and a series of Tolstoy’s last artistic works: “The Devil”, “Father Sergius”, “Resurrection”, “The Kreutzer Sonata”, etc. - they have the same content, namely, they depict the struggle of the human spirit on its path to God, the mystery of spiritual birth and death is artistically revealed, with all the painful difficulty of the struggle against the demons that seduce the soul, which is beyond the power of man. That is why they can be considered, in a certain sense, as a spiritual autobiography. In particular, the characters of The Brothers Karamazov, in addition to their direct meaning, also have a symbolic meaning, personifying the struggle of contradictory forces in the human soul, torn apart by their struggle. If Tolstoy tells us about the demon of fornication in “The Devil” and “Father Sergius,” then Dostoevsky gives an image of the demon of voluptuousness in the person of Fyodor Karamazov, whom, as if to emphasize the self-flagellation nature of this image, he gives his own name. But the same poison flows in the blood of all his sons - not only Dmitry, who is ready for crime and death, but also, according to Smerdyakov’s subtle remark, in the philosopher Ivan, and even in the humble and pure novice Alyosha, who without words understands very great subtleties on this part (conversation with Dmitry). Dostoevsky also gave religious doubts a universal expression - rebellion against the world order, rejection of the world due to the evil reigning in it. If in Tolstoy, in moments of aggravated religious doubts, the world is given over to the devil, then Ivan Karamazov, without rejecting the existence of God, does not accept His creation, the world, and “most respectfully returns the ticket.” This is not despair that seizes at the moment of the fall, but a conscious, deeply thought-out and hard-won rebellion in the name of sincerity and love of truth, an unwillingness to take on the role of Job’s friends and become God’s advocate. And the poison of Ivan’s doubts leaves a trace even in Alyosha’s soul, which, it would seem, is sufficiently protected from them, as it suddenly reveals itself in a difficult moment, when after the death of the elder, the incorruption he so passionately desired was not found. The same poison penetrates Dmitry’s soul when he is already in prison and preparing to “accept suffering.” No one is guaranteed against it, and therefore everyone must achieve immunity to it themselves. But this confusion and darkness is opposed here by the calm and clear light of the suburban abode; Side by side with the old man Karamazov in the novel, and, of course, in the soul of the author, lives the gracious old man Zosima, through whom so much of the dear, the people, the saint shines through to us - pater seraphicus, as Ivan, obviously remembering the second part of Faust, called him. And Zosima is surrounded by spiritually close brethren and believing people. A contrast inevitably arises here - the description of the people in “Father Sergius” and in “The Brothers Karamazov” (“Believing Women”). “There were wanderers here,” we read in “Father Sergius,” “always walking from holy place to holy place, from elder to elder, and always moved before every shrine and every elder. O. Sergius knew this ordinary, most irreligious, cold, conventional type. There were wanderers here, mostly retired soldiers who had strayed from settled life, poverty-stricken and mostly drinking old men, wandering from monastery to monastery just to feed themselves; there were also gray peasants and peasant women with their selfish demands for healing or resolution of doubts about the most practical matters: about giving away a daughter, about hiring a shop, about buying land, or about removing the sin of a sleepy and adopted child. All this was familiar and uninteresting for a long time. Sergius." And now let us recall the scene of Elder Zosima with the women, bathed in heavenly light, in order to feel this contrast of perceptions, all the more striking since both Tolstoy and Dostoevsky had in front of them the same object of observation, the crowd of people around the Optina Elder Fr. Ambrose. Let them remember this woman mourning her baby, a woman whose soul is corroded by sin, a cheerful and happy woman donating her pennies. And in general, if in Tolstoy’s story darkness thickens and darkness descends, as if in some kind of dungeon, and there is no enlightenment and overcoming, then in Dostoevsky’s novel light and darkness, combining and emphasizing in some kind of peculiar harmony and rhythm, mutually limiting themselves, thereby determine each other. Elder Zosima shows himself that he can emerge, at the end of a long and difficult purifying path, from that human element that swirls and foams with senile voluptuousness in the soul of Fyodor Karamazov and is angry with destructive passion in the soul of Dmitry. And on that fateful night, on which the fates of all the main characters are decided, when the murdered old man Karamazov lies defeated in his house, and in the cell of the monastery rests the relics of the newly deceased Fr. Zosima, when Ivan and the murderer Smerdyakov are gnawed with renewed vigor by the demon of doubt and pride, and Dmitry bacchically surrenders to the orgy of his nature, on this very night Alyosha, who has just experienced a terrible attack of religious doubt, is thrown to the ground with trepidation and rises as a new man, sensing in his soul the threads of another world. All the forces of the soul are tense, not a single one is dormant - demons are active, but angels are also awake, and above them is a merciful and loving God. Fr. says the same thing to the believing women. Zosima: “Don’t be afraid of anything, never be afraid and don’t be sad. If only repentance does not become scarce in you, God will forgive everything. And there is no such sin and cannot exist on all earth that the Lord would not forgive a truly repentant person. And a person cannot commit such a great sin that would deplete God’s infinite love... Believe that God loves you as much as you can’t even imagine, even with your sin and in sin loves you.,. Don’t be upset with people, don’t be angry for insults... If you love, then you are already God’s... With love, everything is bought, everything is saved. If I, a sinner just like you, was touched by you and took pity on you, how much more so would God, Love is such a priceless treasure that you can buy the whole world with it and not only your own, but also the sins of others. Go and don’t be afraid.” Go and do not be afraid - this is the firm word of religious calm amid the horrors of life, which everyone needs and which Tolstoy could never say for himself. And who would dare to say that Dostoevsky knew less deeply the horror of life, the abyss in the soul of man and the curse in his fate? And the demon of voluptuousness was known to Dostoevsky in an even more subtle form than to Tolstoy. For this is not crude blood sensuality from excess health, the naked attraction of a male to a female, to which, in essence, all the resources of this demon in Tolstoy are reduced, no, here is added the painful mystery of beauty and femininity that embodies it. How can beauty, which is irresistible and divine, serve as a bait and clothing for sin, and next to the “woman clothed with the sun” reigns the “harlot of Babylon”? This tragedy of the duality of beauty, in which, perhaps, the world’s tragedy is most deeply expressed, has always tormented Dostoevsky’s soul, as his work testifies to this; the demon of voluptuousness, as it were, steals beauty, uses this all-conquering power: “Voluptuousness is a storm, more than a storm! Beauty is a terrible and terrible thing! Terrible, because it is indefinable, and it is impossible to determine, because God asked only riddles. Here the shores meet, here all the contradictions live together... Moreover, I cannot bear that another person, even higher in heart and with a lofty mind, begins with the ideal of the Madonna, and ends with the ideal of Sodom. Even more terrible is that already with the ideal of Sodom in the soul, it does not deny the ideal of the Madonna... Is there beauty in Sodom? Believe that it is in Sodom that it sits for the vast majority of people... Beauty is not only a terrible, but also a mysterious thing. Here the devil is fighting with God, and the battlefield is the hearts of people!” This is no longer an elementary animal temptation, which Tolstoy almost exclusively has in mind, this is the temptation of beauty itself, and she, according to Dostoevsky’s immutable belief, still “saves the world,” which “lies in evil.” In this great Odyssey of the spirit, which is called “The Brothers Karamazov,” the ulcers and ulcers of the heart, the stench of sin and tears of pride are revealed, the tragic contradictions living in the human soul are exposed. “Lying in the abyss of sin, I call upon the abyss of Thy mercy,” cries the human soul in the words of a church song, having realized the full power and depth of sin. “I believe, Lord, help my unbelief,” she tremblingly prays, frightened by the power of evil. And he hears the answer: “Let not your heart be troubled or afraid; believe in God and believe in Me.” And these words were heard and lay deep in Dostoevsky’s soul - they permeated all of his work. If we ask the question of how the world’s and life’s dissonances are reconciled and resolved in his work, we must answer: logically they are irreconcilable, because such a task absolutely exceeds the strength of a mortal - no one can solve it while remaining in a mortal body, and that is why the “advocates of God” who fabricate various sugary theodicies only “piously lie.” The world lies in evil, there is horror, darkness, corruption in it, it is in the hands of the “prince of this world.” But if these antinomies or conflicts are insoluble, they are overcome - in the religious experience of saints who see the world in the light of its future ideal state of “good is good.” They are overcome by each of us to the extent of personal religious experience, since the reality of another world is felt for him along with the reality of world evil. They are also overcome in the works of Dostoevsky, for Fyodor Karamazov in the artistic image, and therefore in the soul of the author, is opposed by the good old man Zosima, Ivan and Dmitry with the restlessness of their passions are opposed by the clear Alyosha, and the philosophy of Smerdyakov and the devil who came to Ivan Fedorovich is opposed by the teachings of the old man Zosima. Placed side by side, all these images and ideas represent contradiction and dissonance, but it is obvious that the author finds in his soul points of support for both struggle and victory. What is this support? In one - in the visible or invisible, but felt by everyone, presence of the sun, which illuminates and warms the creativity and soul of Dostoevsky and which is absent with sad hopelessness from Tolstoy, for he rejected it as unnecessary and abolished it with hostility, despite the thickening darkness of religious despair. And this sun is a living feeling of Christ, the Face of Christ. Dostoevsky’s art was entrusted with a completely unique and exclusive task - to reveal this Face, to awaken a living feeling for it, and when this feeling is alive, then the evil of the world seems like a ghost, and our heart is not embarrassed or afraid. Remember His invisible but tangible presence between Raskolnikov and Sonya when reading the story of the resurrection of Lazarus or similar pages in “Demons” and “The Teenager”, remember His appearance in “The Legend of the Grand Inquisitor”: is it even possible to imagine anything similar in Tolstoy, who rejected the Teacher under the pretext of “teaching”. Let us recall “Cana of Galilee,” the spiritual center of the entire novel “The Brothers Karamazov,” and indeed of Dostoevsky’s entire work—this inspired religious hymn. The Gospel is read at the tomb of the beloved elder; Alyosha, exhausted by the experiences of the day, half-asleep listens to the reading. “This is Cana of Galilee, the first miracle... Oh, this is a miracle, this is the first miracle! Christ visited not sorrow, but the joy of people, for the first time, creating a miracle, he helped people’s joy... He who loves people, loves their joy... The deceased repeated this every minute, this was one of his most important thoughts. ...It’s impossible to live without joy,” says Mitya... Everything that is true and beautiful is always full of forgiveness, - that’s what he said again...” “And he dreams that the room is moving apart... a marriage, a wedding... And from behind the table he, his beloved father and teacher, stands up to meet him... “Too, dear, also called and called,” a quiet voice is heard above him... “We’re having fun,” continues the dry old man, “we’re drinking wine.” new, the wine of a new great joy... Why are you surprised at me? I served the onion, and here I am. And many here only served an onion, just one small onion... What are we doing?.. Do you see our Sun, do you see Him? “I’m afraid I don’t dare look,” Alyosha whispered. - Don't be afraid of Him. He is afraid of his greatness before us, terrible of his height, but infinitely merciful, out of love he has become like us and has fun with us, turns water into wine so that the joy of the guests does not stop, waits for new guests, constantly invites new ones and forever and ever. Look, they’re bringing new wine, you see, they’re carrying vessels...” Something was burning in Alyosha’s heart, something suddenly filled him to the point of pain, tears of delight burst from his soul... He stretched out his arms, screamed and woke up.” In the rays of this Sun, human sorrow drowns and the ice of sin melts, and the heart “is not embarrassed or afraid,” but outside it is cold and darkness... We have reached here the central point from which the paths of Tolstoy and Dostoevsky diverge, in which they are opposed to each other. These are two completely different religions, two different feelings of the world, two sensations of evil and good in the world and in man. One is the religion of the living Christ the Savior, in whom “all the fullness of the Divinity dwells bodily,” the other is a teaching separated from its living source, turned into a doctrine and loaded, like a duty, on the weak shoulders of man. There is a deep opposition here, and, moreover, it is fully realized. Dostoevsky immediately in “The Diary of a Writer” noted Tolstoy’s new course, which ultimately led him to the so-called Tolstoyanism, and gave him a surprisingly insightful diagnosis. A.A. Tolstaya, in her memoirs, talks about her conversation with Dostoevsky about Tolstoy: “This charming and only evening was forever etched in my memory; I listened to Dostoevsky with reverence: he spoke like a true Christian about the fate of Russia and the whole world; his eyes burned, and I felt a prophet in him. When the question touched Lev Nikolaevich, he asked me to read the promised letters loudly... I can still see Dostoevsky in front of me, how he grabbed his head and repeated in a desperate voice: not this, not that! He did not sympathize with a single thought of L.N.; despite the fact that he took everything that was written on the table; originals and copies of Lev's letters. From some of his words, I concluded that a desire was born in him to challenge the false opinions of L.N. ... Five days after this conversation, Dostoevsky passed away” 32. In turn, Tolstoy, although he generally speaks of Dostoevsky with praise, treats what constitutes the very essence of him with undisguised antipathy. In the diary of V. Bulgakov we encounter, for example, such judgments about Dostoevsky’s “thoughts”: “not strong, vague... and then some kind of mystical attitude... Christ, Christ!” 33. And according to Gusev’s just published diary, Tolstoy considered himself called upon to correct Christ: on October 2. 1907, his following words are recorded here: “Before I did not dare to correct Christ, Confucius, Buddha, but now I think: yes, I am obliged to correct them, because they lived 3-5 thousand years ago” 34. And specifically about “The Brothers Karamazov” the following review is given in Bulgakov’s diary: “How unartistic this is! Surprisingly inartistic. The characters are not doing exactly what they should be doing. So it even becomes vulgar: you read and know in advance that they will do exactly what they should do, what you expect.” And to this an incredible, downright astounding (is it sincere?) addition was made: “I only read the first volume, I didn’t read the second” 35 . We saw here the spiritual fruits of these two religions, Dostoevsky’s faith in the living Christ and faith in the “corrected” teaching of Christ. We have to choose. Will the darkness of the soul of Fr. Sergius is the light of Elder Zosima, will this image fade? Is Irtenev right in his despair to the end, feeling only the devil in the world, or is this the highest sin and death of the soul - the last despair? We will not follow Tolstoy the artist here, just as we will not follow the religious preacher. A person must also wring out from a wounded heart a hymn of joy, sung in sounds by a great musical genius in the most tragic era of life and repeated enthusiastically by the future convict Dmitry Karamazov. And let us repeat after him: “Let me be cursed, let me be low and vile, but let me kiss the hem of the robe in which my God has clothed himself; Let me follow the devil at the same time, but still I am Your son, Lord, and I feel joy, without which the world cannot stand and be... Oh yes, we will be in chains, and there will be no will, but then, in our great grief, we will rise again into joy, without which it is impossible for man to live, and for God to be, for God gives joy, this is His great privilege... And then we, underground people, will sing from the bowels of the earth a tragic hymn to God, who has joy!” Augustine, Confessions, book. VI, ch. 16. Windelband. Geschichte der Philosophie, 2-te Aufl., 1900, 231 – 233. Cf. also Loofs. Augustin, Pelagius und Pelagianismus, Semipelagianismüs (in Realenzykl. f. prot. Theol. u. Kirche), his, Leitfaden zum Studium der Dogmengeschichte, 4-te Aufl., 1906, 3-te Haupttheil., Kap. I. Immanuel Kant. Religion is within the limits of reason alone. Per. N. M. Sokolova. All quotations are based on this translation. This is how Kant outlines this self-salvation: “A change of thoughts is precisely the departure from evil and the entry into good, putting off the old man and putting on the new, so that the subject of sin dies away in order to live for justice. But it, as an intellectual definition, does not contain two moral acts separated by a period of time. This is only one single act, for renunciation of evil is possible only by replacing it with a good way of thinking, which produces the entry into good, and vice versa. The good principle, therefore, consists both in the renunciation of evil, and in the adoption of a good way of thinking, and the sorrow that rightfully accompanies the first completely disappears from the second. The transition from a corrupt way of thinking to a good one (like “the dying away of the old man,” “the crucifixion of the flesh”) is in itself a sacrifice and marks the appearance of a long series of those evils of life that a new person takes upon himself in the way of thinking of the son of God and only for the sake of good. But the misdeeds of the past still remain behind him, as if they were committed by someone else, namely the old man, as punishment. Let him, therefore, physically be the same punished person, and, as such, must be judged before a moral court, that is, before his own - but he is still in his new way of thinking before the divine judge, before whom his case is decided, morally completely different - and this purity of his, like the purity of the son of God, whom he has taken into himself, or (if we personify this idea) this latter himself bears for him and for all who are in him (practically) believe, as a substitute, the filth of sin, - through suffering and death gives satisfaction to the highest justice, as a deliverer, and, as a lawyer, does what they can hope to appear before their judge as justified, but only in such a way that he this suffering, which the new man, when he dies to the old, must take upon himself for the rest of his life, provides the representative of humanity as a death suffered once for all. - Here there is still a surplus over the merit of deeds and the merit that is credited to us out of mercy. What we have in earthly life (perhaps in all other times and in all worlds) always consists only of simple doing, is counted to us as if we were here in full possession of them - to which, however, we have no legal right, since we know ourselves, so that the accuser of them will first of all demand a guilty verdict; it is, therefore, always a sentence of mercy, although it is entirely consistent with eternal justice, if we are freed from all responsibility for the sake of this good in faith” (75-77). Collection op. V. S. Solovyova, vol. III, 270. Collection cit., vol. VIII, 551. Wed. P. Wernle. Renaissance and Reformation. Tübingen, 1912, 14–15. Zeller. Die Philosophie der Griechen. II Theil., I Abth, . P. Wernle. Renaissance and Reformation. L. Tolstoy. Christian Doctrine, ed. “The Mediator,” 1908, pp. 13–14. L. Tolstoy. Path of Life, vol. 1: On faith, 15. What Is My Faith, ed. 2nd, 95–96. Tolstoy Museum, volume I, correspondence between L.N. Tolstoy and A.A. Tolstoy. 1857–1903. St. Petersburg, 1911. Memoirs of A. A. Tolstoy, 71. Path of Life, vol. 6: Sins, temptations, superstitions, 14–15. Unfortunately, Tolstoy too rarely remembers this, for it is on the denial of this position that his ugly theories of simplification, denial of the state, enlightenment and others are built. Path of Life, vol. 8: Sexual passion, 1, 10, 15. Scriptures by Rev. Father John Cassian the Roman, trans. Ep. Petra. M., 1892, p. 76. Tolstoy Museum, vol. I: Memoirs of gr. A. A. Tolstoy, 26. V. Bulgakov. In L. N. Tolstoy in the last year of his life, , 118. N. N. Gusev. 2 years with L.N. Tolstoy. , 34. V. Bulgakov, op. cit., 317.