A Confession

An average man, one of the immense majority of semi-believing, semi-sceptical civilized people, those who always without exception complain of their life and of the organization of our life, and anticipate the ruin of everything, this average man, in reply to the question why he himself lives this life he condemns and does nothing to improve it, will always, instead of a direct reply, begin to speak not of himself biit on some general question : the law, trade, the State, or civilization. If he is a policeman or | a public prosecutor he will say : 4 But how will law and order get on if I, to improve my life, cease to take part in them ? ’ 4 And how about | trade ? ’ says he, if he is a commercial man. 4 And how about civilization if I, to improve my own life, do not co-operate in it ? ’ He always speaks as though the aim of his liforwere not! to secure the good for which he always yearns, but to serve the State, or trade, or civilization.! r The average man replies exactly like the believers fr, and the philosopher. For the personal ques-j L tion he substitutes a general question, and, like! fj the believer and the philosopher, the average, g, man makes this substitution because he has, j 0j no reply to the question concerning his personal ! life, since he possesses no real philosophy of life. L And he feels ashamed. h

He is ashamed because he feels himself to i be in the humiliating position of one who has! no philosophy of life ; whereas man never has lived, and cannot live, without a philosophy of ! r life. Only in our Christian world, instead of\ a philosophy of life and an explanation why life j should be such and not other — that is to say, g instead of a religion, we have merely an explana- r tion of why life should be such as it once T used to be, and something is called religion j which is of no sort • of use to anybody ; and ! , life itself has become emancipated from any sorb of teaching — that is to say, it lacks any definition. Nor is that all : as always occurs, science has , accepted this accidental, monstrous position our society is in, as a law for all humanity, j Tiele, Herbert Spencer, and others treat of religion quite seriously, understanding by it a metaphysical teaching concerning the origin of all things, and without suspecting that they are talking, not of the whole of religion, but of . only a part of it.

From^ this has arisen the amazing phenomenon thar in our age we see wise and learned people most naively convinced that they are free from all religion, merely because they do not acknowledge the metaphysical explanations of the origin of things, which at some period and for some people served as an explanation of life. It does not enter their heads that they have got to live somehow and do live somehow, and that whatever it is that induces them to live so and not otherwise is their religion. These people imagine that they have very elevated convictions, but no faith. But, whatever they may say, they have a faith if they perform any reasonable actions. For reasonable actions are always defined by one’s faith. And the actions of these people are defined solely by the faith that one must always do what one is ordered to do. The religion of these people who do not acknowledge religion, is the religion of submission to all that is done by the powerful majority, or, more briefly, it is the religion of submission to the existing authorities. One may live according to the world’s teaching— that is to say, live an animal life, not acknowledging anything higher and more obligatory than the decrees of the powers that be. But he who lives so cannot assert that he is living rationally. Before asserting that we live rationally, one must answer the question, What teaching about life do we consider rational ? And we unfortunates not merely have no such teaching, but have even lost the consciousness

that any reasonable teaching about life is jj necessary. Ask men of our day, believers or sceptics, j J( what teaching they follow in their lives. They j Q( will have to confess that they follow only one | t[ teaching, the laws which are written by officials in the Judicial Department or in the Legis- \$ )} lative Assemblies, and which are enforced by the e police. That is the only teaching our European people acknowledge. They know that that j f teaching has not come down from heaven, nor from the prophets, nor from sages ; they I j( constantly condemn the regulations made by jj those officials or Legislative Assemblies, but all [ the same they acknowledge that teaching, and j e submit to its executors — the police ; and they j F implicitly obey its most terrible demands. If the officials or the Assemblies have written c that every young man must be ready to be abused, to be killed, and to murder others — ; all the fathers and mothers who have reared 1 sons submit to this law, written yesterday j J by a venal official and capable of alteration ( to-morrow. ,

The conception of law indubitably rational j and made obligatory on every one by his inner , conviction has been so lost in our society that , the existence among the Jewish people of a law which defines their whole life, a law made obligatory not by compulsion but by the inner consciousness of every one — is considered an exceptional characteristic of the Jewish race alone. That the Jews only obeyed what they in the depth of their souls considered to be the undoubted truth received direct from God — that is to say, obeyed only what was accordant with their conscience — is considered to be a Jewish peculiarity. It is considered to be the normal condition, natural to an educated man, that he should obey what is notoriously written by contemptible people and put into operation by policemen armed with pistols — things which each of them, or at least the majority of them, consider to be wrong— that is to say discordant with their conscience. Vainly have I sought in our civilized world for any clearly expressed moral principles for life. There are none. There is not even a recognition that they are needed. There is even a strange conviction that they are not needed, that religion consists only in certain words about a future life, about God, in certain ceremonies very useful in the opinion of some people for saving one’s soul, and of no sort of use at all in the opinion of others, and that life goes on of itself, and needs no principles or rules ; only one must do what is ordered ! Of what forms the essence of belief — the teaching about life and the explanation of its meaning — the first is considered as unimportant, and as not appertaining to belief ; while the second, namely, the explanation of a life that used to be lived, or discussions and guesses at the historic course of life, is considered most important and serious. In all that forms the life of man — how to live; whether to go or not to go to kill people ; to go or not to go to try people ; whether to educate one’s children in this way or in that

— the people of our world submit absolutely to others, who are also in the position of not | themselves knowing why they live ..and why T j they oblige others to live this way and not that. And such a life people consider rational, and they do not feel ashamed of it. The divergence between the explanation of the faith which we call faith, and faith itself, which is called social or political life, has now reached the utmost limit, and all the civilized majority of mankind are left with no guidance { for life, except a faith in the gendarme and the policeman. The position would be terrible if it were quite like that. But fortunately there are, even in our day, men, the best men of our time, who are not satisfied with such a faith, and who have a belief of their own as to how men should live. These people are considered the most harmful, I dangerous, and, above all, irreligious people ; l yet they are the only faithful people of our time, and are not only believers in general, but believers in the teaching of Christ, or if not in his whole teaching, at least in a small part of it.

These people often have no knowledge of Christ's teaching, do not accept it, and often, like their opponents, do not accept the chief groundwork of the Christian faith — non-resistance to him that is evil. They often even hate Christ ; but their whole belief of what life should be like is drawn from the teaching of 1 Christ.1 However much these people may be persecuted, however much they may be slandered, they are the only people who do not unmurmuringly submit to all that is decreed ; and therefore they are the only people in our world who are living not an animal, but a rational life — they are the only believers. The thread connecting the world with the Church that used to give the world a meaning has become ever weaker and weaker as the essence, the sap of life, has more and more flowed over to the world. And now, when the sap has all flowed over, the connecting cord has become a mere hindrance. That is the mysterious process of birth,* which is being performed before our eyes. At one and the same time the last bond with the Church is being dissolved and the independent process of life is being established.

Church teaching (with its dogmas, councils, and hierarchy) is undoubtedly connected with Christ's teaching. That connection is as evi- 1 At the time Tolstoy was preparing this work, V. I. Alexeyev was his son’s tutor. Alexeyev had been an active Socialist agitator at the time when the movement was still new in Russia. He says : ‘ Sometimes we ’ (Tolstoy and he) ‘ started a conversation on economics and social themes. I had a copy of the Gospels, left from the days of my Socialist propaganda among the people. Passages relating to social questions were underlined in it, and I often pointed these out to Tolstoy.’ It is to the Socialist propaganda on behalf of the poor that Tolstoy refers in this passage. (See Maude’s Life of Tolstoy , vol. ii, pp. 5-6, Constable.) dent as the connection of a new-born babe with its mother's womb. But if the navel-cord and the after-birth become unnecessary bits of flesh, which (from respect for what they have preserved) must be carefully buried in the earth, so also the Church has become an unnecessary, obsolete organ, which, merely from respect for what it once was, should now be hidden away somewhere far off. Directly the breathing and the circulation of the blood has been established, the bond which was formerly the source of nourishment becomes a hindrance. And efforts to maintain that connection and compel the babe that has now come into the world to nourish itself through the navel-cord, tmd not to live by means of its own mouth and lungs, are irrational.

But the babe's emancipation from its mother's womb is not yet life. The life of the child depends on the setting up of a new connection with its mother for the supply of nutriment. And the same must be accomplished for our Christian world. Christ's teaching has borne our world and brought it to life. The Church — one of the organs of Christ's teaching — has done its part, and has become unnecessary and a hindrance. The world cannot be guided by the Church, but the emancipation of the world from the Church is not yet life. Its life will come when it realizes its impotence and feels the necessity of fresh nourishment. And this must occur with our Christian world : it must cry out with consciousness of its impotence. Only consciousness of its impotence, conscious- ness of the impossibility of receiving nourishment as heretofore, and of the impossibility of obtaining any other nourishment than that of its mother's milk (Christ's teaching) will bring it to its mother's breasts, swollen as they are with milk. In our European world, superficially selfconfident, bold and resolute, but in the depth of its consciousness frightened and perplexed, the same thing is occurring as happens with a new-born babe : it flings itself about, fidgets, cries, pushes as though it were angry, and it does not understand what it has to do. It feels that its former source of nourishment has dried up, but it does not know where to seek fresh nourishment.

A new-born lambkin moves his eyes and his ears, shakes his tail, jumps, and kicks. To judge by his assurance it seems as though he knew everything > but he, poor little thing, knows nothing. All this confidence and energy is the result of his mother's juices, the transfer of which has now ceased and cannot be renewed. He is in a happy, but at the same time a desperate, condition. He is full of freshness and strength ; but he is lost unless he takes to his mother's teats. The same is occurring with our European world. See what a complex, seemingly reasonable, energetic life is seething in the world. It is as if all these people knew what they were doing and why they were doing it all. See how resolutely, confidently, and briskly the men of our world undertake all that they do. Art, science, industry, social and state activities — L all is full of life. But it lives only because it f Bi has been till recently nourished by its mother's juices through its navel-cord. There used to be a Church which transmitted Christ’s reason- 1 able teaching to the life of the world. All the J energies of the world were nourished by it, and grew and developed. But the Church has | played its part and dried up. All the organs j lei of the world are alive, the source of their former nourishment is exhausted, and they have not yet found a fresh one. They seek it everywhere, | only not from the mother from whom they have been released. They, like the lambkin, still | live by the former nourishment, but have not j t yet come to understand that only from their mother can food be had, but that it must be got in a different way than formerly.

The business that now awaits the world consists in understanding that the former process of unconscious feeding is done with, and that a new, conscious process is necessary. That new process consists in conscious acceptance of those truths of the Christian teaching which were formerly unconsciously imbibed by humanity through the instrumentality of the j Church, and by which humanity still lives. Men must raise once more that light by which they lived but which was hidden from them, and they must lift it high before themselves j and before others, and must consciously live by that light. The teaching of Christ, as a religion defining life and explaining the life of man, stands now, !t as it stood 1,800 years ago, before the world. But formerly the world had the Church's explanations, which, though they hid the teaching, nevertheless seemed to suffice for the world's former life ; now, however, a time has come when the Church has been outlived and the world lacks explanation of its new life, and cannot but feel its impotence and therefore can no longer avoid accepting Christ's teaching. Christ teaches, first of all, that men should believe in the light while the light is yet in them. Christ teaches that men should set that light of reason above all else, and should live in accord with it, not doing things they themselves consider irrational. If you consider it irrational to go to kill Turks or Germans — do not go 1 ; if you consider it unreasonable forcibly to take the labour of the poor in order to wear a silk hat or to tie yourself up in a corset, or to arrange a drawing-room that will incommode you — do not do it ; if you consider it unreasonable to put men, corrupted by idleness and bad company, into prison, that is, into the very worst company and the completest idleness — do not do it ; if you consider it

1 Tolstoy's anti-war teaching had a considerable effect in preparing the way for Lenin’s disintegration of the Russian army in 1917. Cheap reprints of Tolstoy’s works, liberally subsidized by the Soviet Government, were issued when they seized power. The fact that they were willing to make use of these works for propaganda purposes did not, however, prevent their enrolling a Red Army and energetically contesting a series of civil wars during the following years. irrational to live in an infected town atmosphere | when it is possible to live in pure air ; or if you consider it unreasonable to teach your children first of all. and most of all, dead languages — do not do it. Only do not do what is done now by the whole of our European world, namely, live a life you consider unreasonable ; act while considering your actions unreasonable ; disbe- I lieve in your reason, and live in discord with it. Christ's teaching is light. The light shines and the darkness comprehendeth it not. One cannot refuse to accept the light when it shines. One cannot dispute with it ; it is impossible to dispute with it. With Christ's teaching one I cannot dispute, because it envelops all the errors in which people live, and does not collide with them, but, like the ether about which the physicists talk, it permeates them all. The teaching of Christ is equally unavoidable for every one in our world, whatever his circum- j stances may be. Christ's teaching cannot but || be accepted by men, not because it is impossible j to deny the metaphysical explanation of life j it gives (it is possible to deny it), but because it alone supplies those rules of life without which humanity has not lived, and cannot live, and without which no man has lived or can live if he wishes to live as a man — that is to say, to live a reasonable life.

The strength of Christ's teaching lies not in its explanation of the meaning of life, but in what flows therefrom — the teaching of life, j Christ's metaphysical teaching is not new. It j is still the same teaching of humanity which f is written in the hearts of men, and which has been taught by all the true sages of the world. But the strength of Christ's teaching lies in the application of that metaphysical teaching of life. The metaphysical basis of the ancient teaching of the Jews and of Christ is one and the same : love of God and of one's neighbour. But for the application of that teaching of life according to Moses, as the Jews understood it, the fulfilment of 613 commandments was necessary, many of them senseless and cruel, and all resting on the authority of the Scriptures. According to Christ's law, the teaching of life which flows from that same metaphysical basis is expressed in five commandments, which are reasonable, beneficent, carry in themselves their meaning and justification, and embrace the whole life of man. Christ's teaching cannot but be accepted by those believing Jews, Buddhists, Mohammedans, and others who have begun to doubt the validity of their own law. Still less can it be rejected by those of our Christian world who now lack any moral law whatever.

Christ's teaching does not dispute with the men of our world about their conception of the world ; it agrees with it in advance, and, including this in itself, gives them what they lack, what is indispensable to them, and what they are searching for ; it gives them a way of life, and one not novel to them, but long familiar and akin to all. You are a believing Christian, of whatever sect or confession. You believe in the creation of the world, in the Trinity, in the fall and redemption of man , in the sacrament s , in prayers , and in the Church. Christ's teaching not only does not argue with you, but fully agrees j with your outlook on the world ; it only gives I a you what you have not got. Retaining your i | present belief, you feel that the life of the world, : and your own life, is filled with evil, and you do not know how to avoid it. Christ's teaching (obligatory for you, because it is the teaching of your God) gives you simple, practicable rules of life, which will free you and other people from the evil that torments you. Believe in the resurrection, in heaven and hell, in the Church, in sacraments, in the redemption, and pray as your faith demands , fast , and sing psalms — all this does not prevent you from fulfilling what Christ has revealed to be necessary for j your welfare ; do not be angry ; do not commit adultery ; do not bind yourself by oaths ; do i not defend yourself by violence ; and do not go to war.

Perhaps you will fail to keep some one of these rules and will be tempted to infringe one of them, as now in moments of temptation | you infringe the rules of your faith, the rules of the civil law, or the laws of politeness. Similarly in moments of temptation you may j perhaps infringe the laws of Christ ; but in your quiet moments do not do what you do now — do not arrange your life so that it should j be difficult not to be angry, not to commit j adultery, not to take oaths, not to defend i yourself, and not to fight ; but in such a way that it should be hard to do these things. You cannot but acknowledge this, for God commands it of you. You are an unbelieving philosopher, no matter of what denomination. You say everything comes about in the world according to a law you have discovered. Christ's teaching does not dispute with you, and fully admits the law you have discovered. But then, besides that law of yours by which thousands of years hence that welfare will come to pass which you desire and have prepared for mankind, there is also your own life, which you can live either in accord with reason or in contradiction to reason ; and for that same life of yours you have now no rules, except those which are written by men you do not respect and are put in execution by the police. Christ’s teaching gives you rules that will certainly accord with your law, for your law of altruism or the common will, is nothing else than a paraphrase of Christ’s teaching.

You are an average man, half a believer, half a sceptic, who has no time to immerse himself in the meaning of human life, and you have no definite outlook on life ; you do what everybody else does. Christ’s teaching does not dispute with you. It says : ‘ Very well, you are unable to argue and to verify the truths of the doctrine taught you ; it is easier for you to act as everybody else does. But, however modest you may be, you yet are conscious in yourself of that inward judge, who sometimes approves your action that accords with every- \ jin body’s, and sometimes does not approve of it. Lmi However humble your lot may be, it yet occurs \ 'fo to you to ponder, and to ask yourself : Shall life do this thing as they all do it, or in my own way ? And just in these cases — that is to say, ijL just when you have occasion to decide that question — the laws of Christ will present them- | selves to you in all their strength. And they will certainly furnish a reply to your question for they embrace the whole of your life, and they will reply in accord with your reason and your conscience. If you are nearer to belief than to unbelief, then, acting in this way, you | will be acting in accord with the will of God.

If you are nearer to free-thought, then, acting in this way, you will act in accord with the most reasonable rules that exist in the world, of which you can convince yourself, for Christ’s rules bear in themselves their own reason and justification. j Christ said (John xii. 31) : 4 Now is the judge - j ment of this world : now shall the prince of this world be cast out.’ He also said (John xvi. 33) : ‘ These things have I spoken unto you, that in me ye may have peace. In the world ye have tribulation : but be of good cheer ; I have overcome the world.' And really the world — that is, the evil of the world, is conquered. If there still exists a world of evil, it only exists inertly ; it no longer possesses the roots of life. It does not exist for one who believes in the laws of Christ. It has been conquered in the reasonable consciousness of the son of man. The runaway train still moves forward, but all the rational work on it has long since been directed the contrary way. ‘ For whatsoever is begotten of God overcometh the world : and this is the victory that hath overcome the world , even our faith 9 (1 Epistle of John v. 4).

The faith that overcomes the world is faith in the teaching of Christ.

I believe Christ’s teaching ; and this is what I believe. I believe that my welfare in the world will only be possible when all men fulfil Christ’s teaching. I believe that the fulfilment of that teaching is possible, easy, and joyful. I believe that before that teaching is uni- i versally followed, even were I alone in fulfilling it, there is still nothing for me to do to save my life from inevitable ruin but to fulfil that teaching ; just as there is no alternative way of escape from a burning house for a man who has found the door leading to safety. I believe that the life I lived in accord with the world’s teaching was tormenting, and that only life in accord with Christ’s teaching gives I me in this world the welfare the Father of life | intended for me. I believe that this teaching confers blessedness I on all humanity, saves me from inevitable j destruction, and gives me here the greatest i possible welfare. Therefore I cannot but | accept it. ijj ‘ The law was given by Moses ; grace and » 370 truth came by Jesus Christ ’ (John i. 17). Christ’s teaching is welfare and truth. Formerly, not knowing the truth, I did not know welfare. Mistaking evil for good, I fell into evil, and doubted the rightness of my strivings after goodness. Now I have understood and believed that the goodness towards which I strove is the will of the Father, and is the most legitimate essence of my life.

Christ has said to me : Live for goodness, but do not trust those snares (ovcai/SaAoes) which, tempting you with a simulacrum of what is good, deprive you of goodness, and trap you into evil. Your welfare lies in your unity with all men ; evil is the infringement of that unity of the son of man. Do not deprive yourself of that welfare which is given you. Christ has shown me that the unity of the son of man, the love of men among themselves, is not, as it formerly seemed to me, an aim towards which people should strive, but that this unity, this love of men among one another, is their natural condition, in which children are born according to Christ’s words, and in which all men live until this condition is infringed by fraud, error, or temptation. But Christ not only showed me that ; he clearly, beyond possibility of error, enumerated for me, in his commandments, all the temptations which had deprived me of that natural condition of unity, love, and blessedness and had drawn me into evil. The commands of Christ give me the means of salvation from the temptations which have deprived me of my welfare, and therefore I cannot but believe in those commandments.

I was given the blessing of life, and I myself ruined it. Christ, by his commandments, showed me the temptations through which ruin my happiness, and therefore I cannot continue to do what ruins it. In that, and in that alone, is my whole belief. . Christ showed me that the first temptation which destroys the good of life is enmity, anger against other men. I cannot but believe this, and therefore can no longer deliberately bear ill-will to others ; I cannot, as I used to do formerly, take pleasure in my anger, be proud of it, inflame it, and justify it by considering myself important and wise and other people insignificant, lost , and senseless, I can now no longer, at the first indication that I am giving way to anger, fail to acknowledge that I alone am guilty, and to seek reconciliation with those who strive against me. But that is not enough. If I now know that my anger is an unnatural condition, harmful for me, I also know what temptation brings me to it. That temptation consists in the fact that I have separated myself from other people, considering only some of them to be my equals, and all the rest to be mere ciphers, not real men (raca) or stupid and uneducated (irrational). I now see that this separation of myself from others, and this estimation of others as raca and senseless, was the chief cause of my enmity against men. Remembering my former life,

I now see that I never allowed my hostile feeling to flame up against those I considered to be my superiors, and never insulted them ; but that the smallest action that was unpleasant to me from a man I considered beneath me provoked my anger, and caused me to insult him, and the more I thought myself above such a man the more ready was I to insult him ; sometimes even my imagination of the inferiority of a man’s position caused me to insult him. Now I remember that that man alone is superior to others who humbles himself before others and is the servant of all. I now understand why that which is exalted among men is an abomination before God, and why woe befalls the rich and famous, and the poor and humble are blessed. Only now do I understand this and believe it, and this belief has changed my whole appreciation of what is good and lofty, and what is bad and mean in life. All that formerly appeared to me good and lofty— honours, fame, education, riches, the complexity and refinement of life and of its surroundings, food, dress, and outward manners — all this has become for me bad and mean ; while peasant life, obscurity, poverty, roughness, simplicity of surroundings, food, dress, and manners, has all become for me good and noble. And therefore if now, knowing all this, I still, in moments of forgetfulness, yield to anger and insult my brother-man, yet, when I am calm, I can no longer yield to that temptation which, placing me above my fellows, deprives

me of my true welfare, unity and love : just ! as a man cannot reset for himself a trap into | which he has formerly fallen, and which nearly destroyed him. Now I cannot participate in ) anything that would outwardly place me above others, separating me from them ; I cannot, as formerly, recognize, either for myself or for others, any titles, ranks, or distinctions, f beyond claiming to be a man ; I cannot seek j for fame or praise ; I cannot seek such knowledge as would separate me from others, and cannot but seek to free myself from my wealth which separated me from others, and I cannot, in my life and its surroundings, in food, clothing and external manners, fail to seek for all that will not divide me from, but unite me with, the majority of men. Christ has shown me that another snare ruining my welfare is lustfulness — that is to say, desire for another woman and not for her with whom I have united. I cannot but believe this, and therefore cannot, as I used to, consider I adulterous lust a natural and noble quality in a man. X cannot justify it to myself by my love of beauty, by being enamoured, or by defects in my wife. I cannot but, at the first intimation that I am yielding to adulterous desire, recognize that I am in an unhealthy and unnatural state, | or fail to seek for all the means which can free i me from that evil.

But, knowing now that adulterous lust harms me, I also know the temptation which formerly j led me into it, and therefore I cannot serve it ; ij I now know that the chief cause of temptation i is not that people cannot refrain from fornication, but that most men and women have been deserted by those with whom they first came together. I now know that every desertion of a man or woman by him or her with whom they first had connection is that very divorce which Christ forbids ; because the husbands and wives abandoned by their first mates cause all the depravity in the world. Remembering what it was that led me into lechery, I now see that, besides the barbarous education by which the lust of fornication in me was physically and mentally inflamed, and was excused by all sorts of subtleties, the chief snare that entangled me arose from my having abandoned the first woman with whom I had connection, and the condition of women who had been abandoned and who surrounded me. I now see that the chief strength of the temptation was not in my lust, but in the fact that my lust, and that of the women who had been deserted and who surrounded me, was unsatisfied. I now understand the words of Christ : God at first created man, male and female, so that the two were one, and therefore man may not and should not divide that which God hath joined. I now ' understand that monogamy is the natural law of humanity, which must not be infringed. I I now fully understand the saying that whoso | divorceth his wife (i.e. the woman with whom I he has first come together) for another, causes j her to become dissolute, and brings fresh evil into the world to his own detriment. I believe f this, and that belief alters my whole former

evaluation of what is good and lofty and what c. is bad and mean in life. What formerly seemed to me the best — a refined, elegant life, with : eo passionate and poetic love, extolled by all the ip* poets and artists — all this has come to appear to me bad and repulsive. On the contrary, what seems to me good is a laborious, frugal, ; rough life which moderates the lusts. High and pc important seems to me, not so much the human institution of marriage, affixing the external ini seal of legality on a certain union of a man and woman, as the union itself of any man and so woman, which, once it has been accomplished, cannot be infringed without infringing the will of God. If I may, even now, in a moment of forgetfulness, yield to adulterous desire, I can at any rate no longer, knowing the temptation which led me into that evil, serve it as I did formerly. I cannot desire and seek for physical idleness and a life of repletion, which inflamed in me excessive desire ; I cannot seek those amusements which inflame amatory lust — j novels, verses, music, theatres, and balls, which formerly seemed to me not merely harmless but very noble amusements. I cannot leave my wife, knowing that leaving her is the first snare for me, for her, and for others ; I cannot take part in the idle life of repletion led by others,

I cannot take part in or promote those lustful ! amusements, novels,1 theatres, operas, balls, 1 This book appeared when de Vogue was writing his work Le roman Russe , and not having before him Tolstoy’s subsequent pronouncements on Art, nor of course the stories, novels, and plays Tolstoy was yet to produce, he made too much of these few words, etc. — which serve as a snare for me and for others. I cannot encourage unmarried life for people who are ripe for marriage ; I cannot be a party to the separation of husbands and wives ; I cannot make distinctions between unions called marriages and those not so called ; I cannot but consider holy and obligatory only the first marital union which a man has formed. Christ has shown me that a third temptation ruining my welfare is the temptation of the oath. I cannot but believe this, and therefore cannot now, as I did formerly, myself take an oath to any one, or about anything, and I cannot now, as I did formerly, justify myself for taking an oath by saying that it does no one any harm, that everybody does it, that it is necessary for the State, or that it will be worse for me and for others if I refuse this demand. I now know that it is an evil for me and for others, and I cannot do it.

But not only do I know this, I now also know the temptation which led me into that evil, and I cannot serve it. I know that the deception consists in this, that people promise in advance to obey what some man, or some men, order ; whereas man must never obey any one but God. I now know that the most terrible evils in the world, by their results, are murder in war, imprisonments, executions, and tortures, which land by jais comments misled a whole string of French, English, and American critics, who, since then, instead of reading Tolstoy for themselves, have put forth what profess to be original criticisms, but are really Ire-hashes of what de Vogue had said, and represent Tolstoy as having ‘abandoned art.’ are performed, thanks only to this temptation whereby responsibility is lifted from those who commit the evil. Remembering many and! many evils which made me blame and dislike people, I now see that they were all caused by the oath — the acknowledgement of an obligation ; to submit oneself to the will of others. I now understand the meaning of the words : What ever is more than a simple assertion or denial, ‘Yes' or ‘No/ all that is beyond that, every promise given in advance,1 is evil. Under- cai standing that, I believe that the oath ruins my welfare and that of others ; and this belief changes my valuation of what is good and evil, lofty and mean. All that formerly seemed to be good and lofty, the duty of loyalty to the Government confirmed by an oath of allegiance, the extortion of such oaths from others, and all actions contrary to conscience, performed under the influence of such oaths — all this now appears to me both bad and mean. And therefore I cannot now any longer depart from Christ's com-

1 Her© again Tolstoy introduces an extension of the teaching, which may be a logical deduction but which was certainly not stated by Christ. Tolstoy, as usual, aims at the absolute right, ignoring the complexity of life, and the fact tha,t, when seeking the best of the paths open to us, we often have to weigh pros and cons. To give no promise in advance would have the advantage that one would be free from day to day to change one’s mind as to one’s work ; but it would seriously hinder one’s taking part in any large undertaking requiring forethought and the assured co-operations of many people for a considerable period. Yet such undertakings are often greatly needed, and may be of great service to one’s fellow men. mand, which forbids the oath. I cannot any longer swear to any one, or compel others to swear, or take part in making other people either themselves swear or compel others to swear, and I cannot look upon the oath as either valuable or necessary, or even innocuous, as many suppose it to be. Christ has shown me that a fourth temptation depriving me of welfare is resistance to evil by means of violence applied to other people. I cannot but believe that this is an evil to me and to others, and therefore I cannot consciously employ it, and cannot, as I used to, justify this | evil on the ground that it is necessary for my defence and for that of others 1 ; nor can I now,

1 Tolstoy overlooks the fact that there may be reasons for using physical force, other than a desire to protect the lives and property of oneself or of one’s fellow-countrymen. To refer once again to the American War of 1861-4 : the questions at issue were not at all those Tolstoy gives as the causes of the use of violence. At the root of the matter then lay the question whether the Government of the United States should not merely acquiesce in the holding of some millions of negroes in a state of slavery, but also in such a manipulation of political power by the Slave States as would ultimately give them control of the machinery of Government in the United States, 'and lead to an enlargement of the area of slave territory and to the permanence of that peculiar institution. That war was fought on a question of right and wrong ; and Lincoln held, as I hold, that when a supreme issue of that kind presents itself a man has no right to say, 4 I will use such mental powers as I possess to help the right to prevail, but will stop short of using my physical powers to that end,’ for this is eventually to assert that the body is more important i[than the mind or soul.

at the first reminder that I am committing violence, do other than refrain from it and stop it. But not only do I know this, I now also know the snare which led me into this evil. I now know that that temptation consists in the delusion that my life can be secured by defending myself and my property from other people. I now know that a large part of the ills of mankind proceed from the fact that, instead of giving work to one another, not only do men not give it, but they deprive themselves of work and seize by violence the work of others. Remembering now all the evil I have done to myself and to others, and all the evil that the others did, I see that a large part of that evil proceeded from the fact that we considered it possible to secure and improve our lives by defending them. I also now understand the words : Man is born, not that others may work for him, but that he should work for others ; and also the meaning of the words : the labourer is worthy of his subsistence. I now believe that my welfare, and that of other people, is only possible when each one labours not for himself, but for others, and not only ceases to withhold his work from others, but gives it to any one who needs it. This belief has changed my valuation of what is good and evil and mean. All that formerly seemed to me good and lofty — riches, property of all kinds, honours, consciousness of one's own dignity and rights, has all become evil and mean ; while all that seemed to me evil and mean — work done for others, poverty, humiliation, renunciation of all property and

all rights — has become good and lofty in my eyes. If now I may, in moments of forgetfulness, be tempted to use violence to defend myself and others, or my own or other people’s property, I can at any rate no longer calmly and consciously serve this temptation which ruins me and others, and cannot acquire pro- < perty. I cannot employ any kind of physical force against any one, except a child, and then only in order to save it from immediately impending danger.1 I cannot take part in any Governmental activity that has for its aim the defence of people and their property by violence ; I cannot be a judge, or take part in trials, or be an official, or serve in any Government office 2 ; nor can I help others to take part in law-courts and Government offices. Christ showed me that the fifth temptation i which deprives me of welfare is the separation we make of our own from other nations. I cannot but believe this, and therefore if, in a moment of forgetfulness, feelings of enmity to- 1 Tolstoy’s conclusions were, naturally, largely shaped by the conditions and experiences of his own life, and it is noticeable that he wrote this when he

i had young children to safeguard, and never repeated | this very serious limitation of his favourite precept after his own children had reached an age at which they no longer needed the constant physical protection demanded by childhood. 2 This is a logical and quite inevitable conclusion from the non-resistant position — that the use of physical force to prevent men doing what they please is immoral. It is therefore very necessary that that position should be refuted if, as I suppose, it can be controverted. wards a man of another nation may arise withi: me, yet I can no longer, in my calm moments, fail to acknowledge that feeling to be a fals< one, and I cannot justify myself, as I used to do, by claiming the superiority of my own peopL to others, basing this on the errors, cruelties,! and barbarities of another nation, nor can I, at the first reminder of this, fail to try to be more friendly to a foreigner than to a compatriot. But not only do I now know that my separa tion from other nations is an evil, ruining my welfare, but I also know the temptation that led me into that evil, and I can no longer, as I did formerly, consciously and quietly serve it. I know that that temptation lies in the delusion that my welfare is bound up only with that of the people of my own nation, and not with that of all the peoples of the earth. I now know that my union with other people cannot be severed by a line of frontier and by Government decrees about my belonging to this or that nation, now know that all men everywhere are equals and brothers. Remembering now all the evil I have done, suffered, and seen, resulting from the enmity of nations,1 it is clear to me that the cause of it all lay in the gross fraud called patriotism and love of one’s country. Remembering my education, I now see that a feeling of hostility to other nations, a feeling of separation from them, was never really natural

1 Some of Tolstoy’s most vivid recollections related to the Crimean War, in which he fought against the French and the English, and of which he wrote a remarkable account in his book, Sevastopol . to me, but that all these evil feelings were artificially inoculated into me by an insane education. I now understand the meaning of the words : Do good to your enemies ; behave to them as to your own people. You are all children of one Father ; so be like your Father, i.e. do not make distinctions between your own people and other peoples ; be the same with them all. I now understand that my welfare is only possible if I acknowledge my unity with all the people of the world without exception. I believe this. And that belief has changed my j whole valuation of what is good and evil, lofty and mean. What seemed to me good and lofty — love of fatherland, of one’s own people, of one’s State, and service of it to the detriment of the welfare of other peoples,1 the military achievements of men, all this now appears to me repulsive and pitiable. What seemed to me bad and shameful — rejection of fatherland, and

1 This sentence seems to mark a peculiar obliquity of vision on Tolstoy’s part. With all his great qualities, he suffered from an over-readiness to attribute evil intention to all existing institutions, and he here assumes that the fundamental purpose of the division of mankind into separate nations is to inflict harm on one another. Plausibility is given to this assumption by the frequency with which different nations do misunderstand and injure one another ; but the ultimate ground of the division of mankind into separate States is not to inflict mutual injuries, but to organize men into units sufficiently homogeneous to admit of their working with a minimum of friction and violence. That they should be so organized should tend, not to the detriment, but to the ultimate advantage, of other lands. cosmopolitanism 1 — now appears to me, on the 1 I contrary, good and noble. If now, in a p moment of forgetfulness, I can co-operate with! fl)i a Russian rather than with a foreigner and can fee desire the success of the Russian State or nation, j life I can no longer, in calm moments, serve that! to temptation which ruins me and other people. Ii k cannot acknowledge any States or nations, in cannot take part in the quarrels between nations lea and States, either by writings or (still less) by It serving any Government. I cannot take part :to in all those affairs which are based on the diver- p sity of nations, not in custom-houses and the Ij collection of taxes, nor in the preparation of li military stores and ammunition, nor in any be activity for creating armaments, nor in military be service, nor (still less) in war itself against other te nations — and I cannot help other people to fo do so.

I have now understood wherein my welfare &| lies ; I believe in this, and therefore cannot do te what undoubtedly deprives me of welfare. But not only do I believe that I ought to live fi thus ; I also believe that if I live so my life will t receive for me the only possible, reasonable, and j c joyful meaning, indestructible by death. 1 One sees how Tolstoy unwittingly prepared the j i ground for Lenin’s defeatist activity, when the latter, j in 1914-17, published The Social Democrat advocating ; the desirability of Russia’s defeat in the war : an event which was achieved by the disintegration of the Russian Army which followed on his propaganda, and resulted in the break-up of Russia, and in the war j being very nearly won by the military imperialist i Power of Germany. I believe my rational life, my light, was only given me in order to shine before men, not by words but by good works, that men may praise the Father (Matt. v. 16). I believe that my life and knowledge of truth is a talent given me to use ; and this talent is a fire, which is only a fire when it burns. I believe that I am Nineveh in relation to other Jonahs from whom I have learnt and am still learning the truth, but that I too am a Jonah in relation to other Ninevites to whom I must convey the truth. ^ I believe that the sole meaning of my life lies in living by that light which is within me, and in not hiding it under a bushel, but holding it high before men that they may see it. And this belief gives me fresh strength to fulfil Christ’s teaching, and destroys those hindrances which formerly blocked my path.

The very thing which formerly militated against the truth and practicability of Christ’s teaching and drove me away from it — the possibility of privations, sufferings, and death inflicted by those who do not know his teaching — that very thing now confirms for me the truth of the teaching, and attracts me to it. Christ said, 4 When you exalt the son of man you will all be drawn to me,’ and I felt that I was irresistibly drawn to him. He also said, ‘ The truth will make you free,’ and I felt myself completely free. ‘ If a hostile army, or wicked people, attack me,’ thought I formerly, ‘ and I do not defend myself, they will despoil me, shame me* and torment and kill me and my neighbours,’ and this seemed to me terrible. But now all that formerly disturbed me seems to me joyful and confirms the truth. I now know that I and the enemy and the so-called criminals and robbers are all men, all just sons of man as myself, who love good and hate evil as I do, and who also live on the eve of death as I do, seeking salvation and with no possibility of finding it except in Christ’s teaching. All evil that they do me will be evil for themselves, and therefore they should do me good. If the truth is unknown to them and they do evil considering it good, I know the truth only in order to show it to those who do not know it. But I cannot show it them except by renouncing participation in evil and acknowledging the truth by my actions.

‘ Enemies will come : Germans, Turks, savages, and if you do not fight they will slaughter you!* That is not true. If there were a society of Christians doing no harm to any one and giving the whole surplus of their work to others, no enemies— neither Germans, nor Turks, nor savages — would kill and torture such people. They would take for themselves all that those people (for whom no distinction existed between Russians, Germans, Turks, or savages) were in any case giving away. If Christians are living in a non-Christian Society which defends itself by war, and the Christians are called on to take part in the war, then an opportunity occurs for those Christians to help those who do not know the truth. A Christian only knows the truth in order to testify to it before those who know it not. And they can only testify by actions. That action is, the repudiation of war and the doing of good to people without distinguishing between so-called enemies and one's own people. ‘ But if the foreign enemy does not, then his own wicked neighbours will, attack the Christian's family, and will pillage, torture, and kill him and those dear to him if they do not defend themselves.' This, again, is not true. If all the members of the family are Christians, and therefore devote their lives to serving others, no man so senseless will be found as to deprive of food, or to kill, those who serve him. Miklukha-Maklay 1 settled among the most bestial savages, so it is said, and they not only did not kill him, but grew fond of him, and submitted to him, merely because he was not afraid of them, demanded nothing of them, and did them good. If a Christian lives with an un-Christian family and relations who defend themselves and their property by violence, and the Christian is called on to take part in that defence, this demand is for him a call to the fulfilment of his duty in life. A Christian knows the truth only to show it to others, and most of all to those near him and bound to him by ties of relationship and friendship, and a Christian can show the truth by not falling into the error others have fallen into, by not ranging himself either on the side of the attackers or on the

1 N. N. Miklukha-Maklay was a distinguished Russian explorer (1846-88) who investigated the manners and customs of the inhabitants of New Guinea and Micronesia. side of the defenders, but by giving all to others and showing by his life that he wants nothing ; except to fulfil the will of God, and that he fears nothing except to depart from that will. ‘ But the Government cannot allow members j of society to refuse to acknowledge the founda- i tions of the State organization, and to evade the performance of the duties of every citizen. L The Government demands from Christians, i i oaths, participation in legal proceedings, and military service, and for a refusal of these things subjects them to punishment, banishment, * j imprisonment, or even execution/ And again, this demand, made by Government, will only serve for a Christian as a call to fulfil the business ! of his life. For a Christian the Government's I demand is the demand of people who do not I know the truth. And therefore a Christian, who knows it, cannot but bear witness to it j before those who know it not. Violence, imprisonment, or execution, to which a Christian j is subjected in consequence of this, affords him the possibility of witnessing, not in wrords, but in deeds. Every violence by war, robbery, j or execution, is not a result of the irrational forces of nature, but is perpetrated by erring j people, deprived of knowledge of the truth. | And, therefore, the greater the evil these people do to a Christian, the further they are from the truth, the more unfortunate are they, and the ! Nmore do they need a knowledge of the truth. But a Christian cannot impart to men that knowledge otherwise than by refraining from j the error in which those dwell who do him !

s evil, and by returning good for evil. And that \ alone is the whole business of a Christian's life, and its whole meaning, which death cannot destroy. People bound together by a delusion form, as it were, a collective cohesive mass. The cohesion of that mass is the world's evil. All the reasonable activity of humanity is directed towards the destruction of this cohesion. All revolutions are attempts to break up that mass by violence. It seems to people that if they break up that mass it will cease to be a mass, and therefore they strike at it ; but, by trying to break it, they only forge it closer. The cohesion of the particles is not destroyed until the inner force passes from the mass to the particles and obliges them to separate from it. The strength of that cohesion of people lies in a falsehood, a fraud. The force freeing each particle of the human cohesive mass is truth. Man can hand on the truth only by deeds of truth. Only deeds of truth bringing light into man's consciousness destroy the cohesion of decepj tion and separate men, one after another, from the mass bound together by the cohesion of deception.

And this work has been going on already for 1,800 years. From the time the commandments of Christ were laid before humanity that work began, and it will not end until all has been accomplished, as Christ said (Matt, j v. 18). The Church formed of those who thought to unite people into one by asserting of themselves, with oaths, that they possessed the truth } has long since died. But the Church formed of men joined in union, not by promises nor by anointings but by deeds of truth and goodness, this Church has always lived, and will live. This Church now, as heretofore, is formed, not of those who say, Lord, Lord ! yet work iniquity (Matt. vii. 21, 23), but of those who hear these words and do them. The members of this Church know that it is only necessary for them not to infringe the unity of the son of man for their life to be a blessing, and that this blessedness is only infringed by the nonfulfilment of the commandments of Christ. And therefore members of the Church cannot but fulfil those commandments and teach others to fulfil them. Whether there are now few or many such people, that is the Church which nothing can overcome, and to which all men will be united.

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The Pocket Edition is printed on thin opaque paper, by means of which the bulk is greatly reduced. The figures in parentheses denote the number of the book in the series Aeschylus. The Seven Plays. Translated by Lewis Campbell. (117) Ainsworth (W. Harrison). The Tower of London. (162) A Kempis (Thomas). Of the Imitation of Christ. (49) Aristophanes. Frere’s translation of the Acharnians, Knights, Birds, and Frogs. Introduction by W. W. Merry. (134) Arnold (Matthew). Poems. Intro, by Sir A. T. Quiller-Couch. (85) Aurelius (Marcus). Thoughts. Trans. J. Jackson. (60) Austen (Jane). Emma. Introduction by E. V. Lucas. (129) Bacon. The Advancement of Learning, and the New Atlantis. Introduction by Professor Case. (93) Barham. The Ingoldsby Legends. (9) Barrow (Sir John). The Mutiny of the Bounty. Introduction by Admiral Sir Cyprian Bridge. (195) Betham-Edwards (M.). The Lord of the Harvest. Introduction by Frederic Harrison. (194) Blackmore (R. D.). Lorna Doone. Intro, by T. H. Warren. (171) Borrow. The Bible in Spain. (75) The Romany Rye. (73) Charlotte Bronte. Jane Eyre. (1) The Professor, and the Poems of Charlotte, Emily, and Anne Bronte. Introduction by Theqd6re Watts-Dunton, (78) Emily Bronte. Wuthering Heights. (10) Anne Bronte. Agnes Grey. (141) The Tenant of Wildfell Hall. (67)

Brown (Dr. John). Horae Subsecivae. Intro, by Austin Dobson. (118) Browning (Elizabeth Barrett). Poems: A Selection. (176) Browning (Robert). Poems and Plays, 1833-1842. (58) Buckle. The History of Civilization in England. 3 vols. (41, 48, 53) Bunyan. The Pilgrim’s Progress. (12) Burke. Works. 6 vols. Vol. I. General Introduction by Judge Willis and Preface by F. W. Raffety. (71) Vols. II, IV, V, VI. Prefaces by F. W. Raffety. (81, 112-114) Vol. III. Preface by F. H. Willis, (in) List of the Series— continued Butler. The Analogy of Religion. Edited, with Notes, by W. E. Byron. Poems : A Selection. (180) Carlyle. On Heroes and Hero-Worship. (62) Past and Present. Introduction by G. K. Chesterton. (153) Sartor Resartus. (19) The French Revolution. Intro. C. R. L. Fletcher. 2 vols. (125, 126) The Life of John Sterling. Introduction by W. Hale White. (144) Cervantes. Don Quixote. Translated by C. Jervas. Intro, and Notes by J. Fitzmaurice-Kelly. 2 vols. With a frontispiece. (130,131) Chaucer. The Canterbury Tales. (76) Chaucer. The Works of. From the text of Professor Skeat. 3 vols. Vol. I (42); Vol. II (56); Vol. Ill, containing the whole of the Canterbury Tales (76) Cobbold. Margaret Catch pole. Intro, by Clement Shorter. (119) Coleridge. Poems. Introduction by Sir A. T. Quiller-Couch. (99) Collins (Wilkie). The Woman in White. (226).

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English Prose. Chosen and arranged by W. Peacock. Mandeville to Ruskin. (45) Wycliffe to Clarendon. (219) Milton to Gray. (220) Walpole to Lamb. (221) Landor to Holmes (222) Mrs. Gaskell to Henry James. (223) English Prose: Narrative, Descriptive, and Dramatic. Selected by H. A. Treble. (204) English Short Stories. (Nineteenth Century.) Introduction by Prof. Hugh Walker. (193) English Songs and Ballads. Compiled by T. W. H. Crosland. (13) English Speeches, from Burke to Gladstone. Selected by Edgar R. Jones, M.P. (191). Fielding. Journal of a Voyage to Lisbon, &c. Intro. A. Dobson. (142) Galt (John). The Entail. Introduction by John A YSCOUGH. (177) Gaskell (Mrs.). Introductions by Clement Shorter. Cousin Phillis, and other Tales, &c. (168) Cranford, The Cage at Cranford, and the Moorland Cottage, (no) Lizzie Leigh, The Grey Woman, and other Tales, &c. (175) North and South. (154) Right at Last, and other Tales, &c. (203) Round the Sofa. (190) Wives and Daughters. (157) Life of Charlotte Bronte. (214) Gibbon. Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. With Maps. 7 vols. (35,44, 5,i» 64,69, 74) . ^ T „ „ Autobiography. Introduction by J. B. BURY. (139) Goethe. Faust, Part I (with Marlowe’s Dr. Faustus). Translated by John Anster. Introduction by Sir A. W. Ward. (135) Goldsmith. Poems. Introduction and Notes by Austin Dobson. (123) The Vicar of Wakefield. (4)

Grant (James). The Captain of the Guard. (159) Hawthorne. The Scarlet Letter. (26) Hazlitt. Characters of Shakespeare’s Plays. Introduction by Sir A, Quiller-Couch. (205) Lectures on the English Comic Writers. Introduction by R. BRIMLEY Johnson. (124) Sketches and Essays. (15) Spirit of the Age. (57) List of the Series — continued Herbert (George). Poems. Introduction by Arthur Waugh. (109) Herrick. Poems. (16) Ne Holmes (Oliver Wendell). The Autocrat of the Breakfast- Table. (64 The Poet at the Breakfast-Table. Intro. Sir W. R. Nicoll. (95) The Professor at the Breakfast-Table. Intro. Sir W. R. Nicoll. (89 p( Homer. Iliad. Translated by Pope. (18) Odyssey. Translated by Pope. (36) Hood. Poems. Introduction by Walter Jerrold. (87) Horne (R. H.). A New Spirit of the Age. Intro. W. Jerrold. (127) Hume. Essays. (33) Hunt (Leigh). Essays and Sketches. Intro. R. B. Johnson. (115) The Town. Introduction and Notes by Austin Dobson. (132) Irving (Washington). The Conquest of Granada. (150) The Sketch-Book. Introduction by T. Balston. (173) Jerrold (Douglas). Mrs. Caudle’s Curtain Lectures, &c. Intro, p Walter Jerrold, and 90 Illustrations by Keene, Leech, and Doyle. (122) Johnson. Lives of the English Poets. Intro. A. Waugh. 2 vols. Keble. The Christian Year. (181) Lamb. Essays of Elia, and The Last Essays of Elia. (2)

Landor. Imaginary Conversations. Selected with Introduction by Prof. E. de Selincourt. (196) Lesage. Gil Bias. Translated by T. Smollett, with Introduction andj Notes by J. Fitzmaurice-Kelly. 2 vols. (151, 152) Letters written in War Time. Selected by H. Wragg. (202) Longfellow. Evangeline, The Golden Legend, &c. (39) Hiawatha, Miles Standish, Tales of a Wayside Inn, &c. (174) Lytton. Harold. With 6 Illustrations by Charles Burton. (165. Macaulay. Lays of Ancient Rome ; Ivry ; The Armada. (27) Machiavelli. The Prince. Translated by Luigi Ricci. (43) Marcus Aurelius. See Aurelius. Marlowe. Dr. Faustus (with Goethe’s Faust, Part I). Introduction by ! Sir A. W. Ward. (135) Marryat. Mr. Midshipman Easy. (160) The King’s Own. With 6 Illustrations by Warwick Goble. (164) ! Melville (Herman). Moby-Dick. Intro. Viola Meynell. (225) Mill (John Stuart). On Liberty, & c. Intro. Mrs. Fawcett. (170) Milton. The English Poems. (182) Montaigne. Essays. Translated by J. Florio. 3 vols. (65,70,77) Morris (W.). The Defence of Guenevere, Jason, &c. (183) ' g Motley. Rise of the Dutch Republic. 3 vols. (96, 97, 98) List of the Series— continued Nekrassov. Who can be happy and free in Russia? A Poem. Trans, by Juliet Soskice. (213) Palgrave. The Golden Treasury. With additional Poems, including FitzGerald’S translation of Omar Khayyam. (133)

Peacock (W.). English Prose from Mandeville to Ruskin. (45) English Prose. 5 vols. Wycljffe to Clarendon. (219) Milton to Gray. (220) Walpole to Lamb. (221) Landor to Holmes. (222) Mrs. Gaskell to Henry James. (223) Selected English Essays. (32) Poe (Edgar Allan). Tales of Mystery and Imagination. (21) Porte. ~ 1 he Scottish Chiefs. (161) Prescott (W. H.;. History of the Conquest of Mexico. Introduction by Mrs. Alec-Tweedie. 2 vols. (197, 198) Reid (Mayne). The Rifle Rangers. With 6 Illustrations. (166) The Scalp Hunters. With 6 Illustrations by A. H. Collins. (167) Reynolds (Sir Joshua). The Discourses, and the Letters to ‘The Idler.’ Introduction by Austin Dobson. (149) RoNsetti (Christina). Goblin Market, The Prince’s Progress, and other Poems. (184) ^lossetti (D. G.). Poems and Translations, 1850-1870. (185) buskin. ( Ruskin House Editions , by arrangement with Messrs. Allen and Unwin , Ltd.) ‘A Joy for Ever,’ and The Two Paths. Illustrated. (147) Sesame and Lilies, and The Ethics of the Dust. (145) Time and Tide, and The Crown of Wild Olive. (146) Imto this Last, and Munera Pulveris. (148) Lives of the Novelists. Introduction by Austin Dobson. (94) Poems. A Selection. (186) Selected Speeches and Documents on British Colonial Policy (1763-1917). Edited with Intro., by Professor A. B. Keith, D.C.L., D.Litt. 2 vols. (215, 216)

Se lected Speeches on British Foreign Policy (1738-1914). Edited by Edgar R. Jones, M.P. (201) Shakespeare. Plays and Poems. With a Preface by A. C. Swinburne and general Introductions to the several plays and poems by Edward Dowden, and a Note by T. Watts-Dunton on the special typographical features of this Edition. 9 vols. Comedies. 3 vols. (100, 101, 102) Histories and Poems. 3 vols. (103, 104, 105) Tragedies. 3 vols. (106, 107, 108) Shakespeare’s Contemporaries. Six Plays by Beaumont and I Fletcher, Dekker, Webster, and Massinger, Edited by C. B. Wheeler, (199) J List of the Series — continued Shakespearean Criticism. A Selection. Edited with Intro., by D. Nichol Smith. (212) Shelley. Poems. A Selection. (187) Sheridan. Plays. Introduction by Joseph Knight. (79) Smith (Adam). The Wealth of Nations. 2 vols. (54, 59) Smith (Alexander). Dream thorp, with Selections from Last Leaver. Introduction by Prof. Hugh Walker. (200) Smollett. Travels through France and Italy. Introduction by Thomas Seccombe. (90) Sophocles. The Seven Plays. Trans. Lewis Campbell. (116) Southey (Robert). Letters. Selected, with an Introduction and Notes, by Maurice H. FitzGerald. (169) Sterne. Tristram Shandy. (40) Swift. Gulliver’s Travels. (20) Taylor (Meadows). Confessions of a Thug. (207) Tennyson (Lord). Poems. (3)

Thackeray. Book of Snobs, Sketches and Travels in London, &c. (50) Henry Esmond. (28) Pendennis. Introduction by Edmund GOSSE. 2 vols. (91, 92) Thoreau. Walden. Introduction by Theodore Watts-Dunton. (68) j Tolstoy. Essays and Letters. Translated by Aylmer Maude. (4^ Twenty-three Tales. Translated by L. and A. Maude. (73) The Cossacks. Translated by L. and A. Maude. (208) Resurrection. Trans. L. Maude. Intro. A. Maude. (209) Anna Karenina. Trans. Aylmer Maude. 2 vols. (210,211) A Confession, and What I believe. Trans. Aylmer Maude. (229) Trollope. The Three Clerks. Intro, by W. Teign mouth Shore. (m<>) The Warden. (217) Virgil. Translated by Dryden. (37) Virgil. The Aeneid and the Georgies. Trans. J. Rhoades. (227) Watts-Dunton (Theodore). Aylwin. (52) Wells (Charles). Joseph and his Brethren. With an Introduction by Algernon Charles Swinburne, and a Note on Rossetti and Charles Wells by Theodore Watts-Dunton. (143) White (Gilbert). The Natural History of Selborne. (22) Whitman. Poems. Introduction by E. de Selincourt. (218) Whittier. Poems. A Selection. (188) Wordsworth. Poems: A Selection. (189) HUMPHREY MILFORD OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS LONDON, EDINBURGH, GLASGOW NEW YORK, TORONTO, MELBOURNE, BOMBAY MADRAS, CALCUTTA, CAPE TOWN, SHANGHAI PEKING, & COPENHAGEN PLEASE DO NOT REMOVE CARDS OR SLIPS FROM THIS POCKET BR Tolstoi, Leo Nikolaevich Graf

12 5 A confession and what I