explanation flew to atoms. But a time came when I ceased tobelieve in the finite. And then I began to build up on rational
foundations, out of what I knew, an explanation which would give ameaning to life; but nothing could I build. Together with the best
human intellects I reached the result that o equals o, and was muchastonished at that conclusion, though nothing else could have
resulted. What was I doing when I sought an answer in the experimental
sciences? I wished to know why I live, and for this purposestudied all that is outside me. Evidently I might learn much, but
nothing of what I needed. What was I doing when I sought an answer in philosophical
knowledge? I was studying the thoughts of those who had foundthemselves in the same position as I, lacking a reply to the
question "why do I live?" Evidently I could learn nothing but whatI knew myself, namely that nothing can be known.
What am I? -- A part of the infinite. In those few words liesthe whole problem.
Is it possible that humanity has only put that question toitself since yesterday? And can no one before me have set himself
that question -- a question so simple, and one that springs to thetongue of every wise child?
Surely that question has been asked since man began; andnaturally for the solution of that question since man began it has
been equallyinsufficient to compare the finite with the finite andthe infinite with the infinite, and since man began the relation of
the finite to the infinite has been sought out and expressed. All these conceptions in which the finite has been adjusted to
the infinite and a meaning found for life -- the conception of God,of will, of goodness -- we submit to logicalexamination. And all
those conceptions fail to stand reason's criticism. Were it not so terrible it would be ludicrous with what pride
and self-satisfaction we, like children, pull the watch to pieces,take out the spring, make a toy of it, and are then surprised that
the watch does not go. A solution of the contradiction between the finite and the
infinite, and such a reply to the question of life as will make itpossible to live, is necessary and precious. And that is the only
solution which we find everywhere, always, and among all peoples: a solution descending from times in which we lose sight of the life
of man, a solution so difficult that we can compose nothing like it-- and this solution we light-heartedly destroy in order again to
set the same question, which is natural to everyone and to which wehave no answer.
The conception of an infinite god, the divinity of the soul,the connexion of human affairs with God, the unity and existence of
the soul, man's conception of moral goodness and evil -- areconceptions formulated in the hidden infinity of human thought,
they are those conceptions without which neither life nor I shouldexist; yet rejecting all that labour of the whole of humanity, I
wished to remake it afresh myself and in my own manner. I did not then think like that, but the germs of these
thoughts were already in me. I understood, in the first place,that my position with Schopenhauer and Solomon, notwithstanding our
wisdom, was stupid: we see that life is an evil and yet continueto live. That is evidentlystupid, for if life is senseless and I
am so fond of what is reasonable, it should be destroyed, and thenthere would be no one to challenge it. Secondly, I understood that
all one's reasonings turned in a viciouscircle like a wheel out ofgear with its pinion. However much and however well we may reason
we cannot obtain a reply to the question; and o will always equalo, and therefore our path is probably erroneous. Thirdly, I began
to understand that in the replies given by faith is stored up thedeepest human wisdom and that I had no right to deny them on the
ground of reason, and that those answers are the only ones whichreply to life's question.
X I understood this, but it made matters no better for me. I
was now ready to accept any faith if only it did not demand of mea direct denial of reason -- which would be a falsehood. And I
studied Buddhism and Mohammedanism from books, and most of all Istudied Christianity both from books and from the people around me.
Naturally I first of all turned to the orthodox of my circle,to people who were learned: to Church theologians, monks, to
theologians of the newest shade, and even to Evangelicals whoprofess salvation by belief in the Redemption. And I seized on
these believers and questioned them as to their beliefs and theirunderstanding of the meaning of life.
But though I made all possible concessions, and avoided alldisputes, I could not accept the faith of these people. I saw that
what they gave out as their faith did not explain the meaning oflife but obscured it, and that they themselves affirm their belief
not to answer that question of life which brought me to faith, butfor some other aims alien to me.
I remember the painful feeling of fear of being thrown backinto my former state of despair, after the hope I often and often
experienced in my intercourse with these people. The more fully they explained to me their doctrines, the more
clearly did I perceive their error and realized that my hope offinding in their belief an explanation of the meaning of life was
vain. It was not that in their doctrines they mixed many unnecessary
and unreasonable things with the Christian truths that had alwaysbeen near to me: that was not what repelled me. I was repelled by
the fact that these people's lives were like my own, with only thisdifference -- that such a life did not correspond to the principles
they expounded in their teachings. I clearly felt that theydeceived themselves and that they, like myself found no other
meaning in life than to live while life lasts, taking all one'shands can seize. I saw this because if they had had a meaning
which destroyed the fear of loss, suffering, and death, they wouldnot have feared these things. But they, these believers of our
circle, just like myself, living in sufficiency and superfluity,tried to increase or preserve them, feared privations, suffering,
and death, and just like myself and all of us unbelievers, lived tosatisfy their desires, and lived just as badly, if not worse, than
the unbelievers. No arguments could convince me of the truth of their faith.
Only deeds which showed that they saw a meaning in life making whatwas so dreadful to me -- poverty, sickness, and death -- not
dreadful to them, could convince me. And such deeds I did not seeamong the various believers in our circle. On the contrary, I saw
such deeds done [Footnote: this passage is noteworthy as being oneof the few references made by Tolstoy at this period to the
revolutionary or "Back-to-the-People" movement, in which many youngmen and women were risking and sacrificing home, property, and life
itself from motives which had much in common with his ownperception that the upper layers of Society are parasitic and prey
on the vitals of the people who support them. -- A.M.] by people ofour circle who were the most unbelieving, but never by our so-
called believers. And I understood that the belief of these people was not the
faith I sought, and that their faith is not a real faith but anepicurean consolation in life.
I understood that that faith may perhaps serve, if not for aconsolation at least for some distraction for a repentant Solomon
on his death-bed, but it cannot serve for the great majority ofmankind, who are called on not to amuse themselves while consuming
the labour of others but to create life. For all humanity to be able to live, and continue to live
attributing a meaning to life, they, those milliards, must have adifferent, a real, knowledge of faith. Indeed, it was not the fact
that we, with Solomon and Schopenhauer, did not kill ourselves thatconvinced me of the existence of faith, but the fact that those
milliards of people have lived and are living, and have borneSolomon and us on the current of their lives.
And I began to draw near to the believers among the poor,simple, unlettered folk: pilgrims, monks, sectarians, and peasants.
The faith of these common people was the same Christian faith aswas professed by the pseudo-believers of our circle. Among them,
too, I found a great deal of superstition mixed with the Christiantruths; but the difference was that the superstitions of the
believers of our circle were quite unnecessary to them and were notin conformity with their lives, being merely a kind of epicurean
diversion; but the superstitions of the believers among thelabouring masses conformed so with their lives that it was
impossible to imagine them to oneself without those superstitions,which were a necessary condition of their life. the whole life of
believers in our circle was a contradiction of their faith, but thewhole life of the working-folk believers was a confirmation of the
meaning of life which their faith gave them. And I began to lookwell into the life and faith of these people, and the more I
considered it the more I became convinced that they have a realfaith which is a necessity to them and alone gives their life a
meaning and makes it possible for them to live. In contrast withwhat I had seen in our circle -- where life without faith is
possible and where hardly one in a thousand acknowledges himself tobe a believer -- among them there is hardly one unbeliever in a
thousand. In contrast with what I had seen in our circle, wherethe whole of life is passed in idleness, amusement, and
dissatisfaction, I saw that the whole life of these people waspassed in heavy labour, and that they were content with life. In
contradistinction to the way in which people of our circle opposefate and complain of it on account of deprivations and sufferings,
these people accepted illness and sorrow without any perplexity oropposition, and with a quiet and firm conviction that all is good.
In contradistinction to us, who the wiser we are the less weunderstand the meaning of life, and see some evil irony in the fact
that we suffer and die, these folk live and suffer, and theyapproach death and suffering with tranquillity and in most cases
gladly. In contrast to the fact that a tranquil death, a deathwithout horror and despair, is a very rare exception in our circle,
a troubled, rebellious, and unhappy death is the rarest exceptionamong the people. and such people, lacking all that for us and for
Solomon is the only good of life and yet experiencing the greatesthappiness, are a great multitude. I looked more widely around me.
I considered the life of the enormous mass of the people in thepast and the present. And of such people, understanding the
meaning of life and able to live and to die, I saw not two orthree, or tens, but hundreds, thousands, and millions. and they
all -- endlessly different in their manners, minds, education, andposition, as they were -- all alike, in complete contrast to my
ignorance, knew the meaning of life and death, laboured quietly,endured deprivations and sufferings, and lived and died seeing
therein not vanity but good. And I learnt to love these people. The more I came to know
their life, the life of those who are living and of others who aredead of whom I read and heard, the more I loved them and the easier