‘But I have no wisdom at all! I am altogether sunk in error! My errors have not become wisdom because they are ancient, any more than water becomes wine because it is stale and foul.’
And seizing his cloak Julius hastily left the house and set out to walk farther, without staying to rest. By the close of another day he reached the Christian settlement.
They received him gladly, though they did not know that he was a friend of Pamphilius, whom they all loved and respected. At the refectory Pamphilius, seeing his friend, ran to him gladly and embraced him.
‘At last I have come,’ said Julius. ‘Tell me what I am to do and I will obey you.’
‘Don’t trouble about that,’ said Pamphilius. ‘Come with me.’ And he led Julius into the guest-house, and showing him a bed, said:
‘When you have had time to observe our life you will see for yourself how you can best be of use to men. But I will show you something to do to-morrow to occupy your time for the present. We are gathering grapes in our vineyards. Go there and help. You will see yourself what you can do.’
Next morning Julius went into the vineyards. The first was of young vines which were loaded with clusters. Young people were plucking and gathering them. The places were all occupied and Julius, having walked about for some time, found no place for himself. He went on farther and came to an older vineyard where there was less fruit. But here also there was nothing for him to do; the gatherers were all working in pairs and there was no place for him. He went still farther and entered a very old, deserted vineyard. The vine-stocks were gnarled and crooked and Julius could see no grapes.
‘There, that is like my life,’ he said to himself. ‘Had I come the first time, it would have been like the fruit in the first vineyard. Had I come when I started the second time, it would have been like the fruit in the second vineyard. But now here is my life – like these useless superannuated vines, only fit for fuel!’ And Julius was terrified at what he had done, terrified at the punishment awaiting him for having uselessly wasted his life. And he became sad and said aloud:
‘I am no longer good for anything and can now do nothing!’ And he sat down and wept because he had wasted what he could never recover. Suddenly he heard the voice of an old man calling him:
‘Work, brother!’ said the voice.
Julius looked round and saw an old man, grey and bowed by age and scarcely able to move his feet. He was standing by the vines and gathering the few sweet bunches that still remained here and there. Julius went up to him.
‘Work, dear brother! Work is joyous!’ And the old man showed him where to look for bunches of the grapes that still remained. Julius began to look for them, and finding some, brought them and laid them in the old man’s basket. And the old man said to him:
‘Look, in what way are these bunches any worse than those they are gathering in the other vineyards? “Walk while ye have the light!” said our Teacher. “The will of Him that sent me is that every one who seeth the son, and believeth on him, may have everlasting life: and I will raise him up at the last day. For God sent not His son into the world to condemn the world; but that the world through him might be saved. He that believeth on him is not condemned, but he that believeth not is condemned already, because he hath not believed in the son, who is of one nature with God. And this is the condemnation, that light is come into the world, and men loved darkness rather than light, because their deeds were evil. For every one that doeth evil hateth the light, neither cometh to the light, lest his deeds should be reproved. But he that doeth truth cometh to the light, that his deeds may be made manifest, that they are wrought in God.” My son, be not unhappy! We are all sons of God and His servants! We are all one army! Do you think that He has no servants besides you, and that if you had devoted yourself to His service with your whole strength you could have done all that He needs – all that is needful for the establishment of His kingdom? You say you would do twice, ten times, a hundred times, more than you did. But if you did ten thousand times ten thousand more than all men have done, what would that have been in the work of God? A mere nothing! God’s work, like Himself, is infinite. God’s work is you. Come to Him, and be not a labourer but a son, and you will become a partner of the infinite God and of His world. In God’s sight there is neither small nor great, there is only what is straight and what is crooked. Enter into the straight path of life and you will be with God and your work will be neither small nor great, it will be God’s work. Remember that in heaven there is more joy over one sinner than over a hundred just persons. The world’s work – all that you have neglected to do – has only shown you your sin, and you have repented. And when you repented you found the straight path. Go forward and follow it, and do not think of the past nor of what is great or small. All men are equal in God’s sight! There is one God and one life!’
And Julius was comforted, and from that day he lived and worked for the brethren according to his strength. And so he lived joyfully for another twenty years, and did not notice how death took his body.
1 The following text reproduces, in substance, the first part of The Teaching of the Twelve Apostles (The Didachē), a very early Christian manuscript discovered at Constantinople in 1875, which greatly interested Tolstoy.
THE COFFEE-HOUSE OF
SURAT (AFTER BERNARDIN DE SAINT-PIERRE)
IN the town of Surat, in India, was a coffee-house where many travellers and foreigners from all parts of the world met and conversed.
One day a learned Persian theologian visited this coffeehouse. He was a man who had spent his life studying the nature of the Deity, and reading and writing books upon the subject. He had thought, read, and written so much about God, that eventually he lost his wits, became quite confused, and ceased even to believe in the existence of a God. The Shah, hearing of this, had banished him from Persia.
After having argued all his life about the First Cause, this unfortunate theologian had ended by quite perplexing himself, and instead of understanding that he had lost his own reason, he began to think that there was no higher Reason controlling the universe.
This man had an African slave who followed him everywhere. When the theologian entered the coffee-house, the slave remained outside, near the door, sitting on a stone in the glare of the sun, and driving away the flies that buzzed around him. The Persian having settled down on a divan in the coffeehouse, ordered himself a cup of opium. When he had drunk it and the opium had begun to quicken the workings of his brain, he addressed his slave through the open door:
‘Tell me, wretched slave,’ said he, ‘do you think there is a God, or not?’
‘Of course there is,’ said the slave, and immediately drew from under his girdle a small idol of wood.
‘There,’ said he, ‘that is the God who has guarded me from the day of my birth. Everyone in our country worships the fetish tree, from the wood of which this God was made.’
This conversation between the theologian and his slave was listened to with surprise by the other guests in the coffeehouse. They were astonished at the master’s question, and yet more so at the slave’s reply.
One of them, a Brahmin, on hearing the words spoken by the slave, turned to him and said: