Kitabı oku: «The Old World and Its Ways», sayfa 37

The child of an orthodox Russian becomes a member of the church of his parents and if he desires to enter another church he must leave the country. If one of the orthodox church marries a member of another church the children must of necessity be reared in the Russian faith. It will be seen, therefore, that the church is very closely connected with the government itself, and quite as arbitrary.

De Tocqueville some fifty years ago predicted a large place for Russia among the nations of Europe and my visit to the great empire of the northeast convinced me that Russia, with universal education, freedom of speech, freedom of the press, freedom of religion and constitutional self-government, would exert an influence upon the destinies of the old world to which it would be difficult to set a limit.

CHAPTER LVII.
ROME – THE CATHOLIC CAPITAL

The dominant feature of Rome is the religious feature, and it is fitting that it should be so, for here the soil was stained with the blood of those who first hearkened to the voice of the Nazarene – here a cruel Nero lighted his garden with human torches, little thinking that the religion of those whom he burned would in time illumine the earth.

The fact that the city is the capital of the Catholic world is apparent everywhere. All interest is centered in the Vatican and St. Peter's. The civil government of Italy extends to the nation's borders, but the papal authority of Rome reaches to the remotest corners of the earth. I was anxious to see the man upon whom such vast responsibility rests, and whose words so profoundly influence millions of the human race. Lord Denbigh, of England, had given me a letter of introduction to Cardinal Merry del Val, the papal secretary of state, and armed with this I visited the Vatican. Cardinal del Val is an exceedingly interesting man. He was born of Spanish parents, but one of his grandparents was English, and he is connected by ties of blood with several families of the English nobility. He was educated in England, and speaks that language fluently and without an accent, as he does French, German, Italian and Spanish. His linguistic accomplishments are almost as great as those of the famous Cardinal Mezzofanti. Cardinal del Val is an unusually young man to occupy such an important post – he is not yet forty. He impresses one as a man of rare ability and he possesses extraordinary versatility and a diplomatic training that will make him eminently useful to His Holiness. The papal secretary of state is a tall, slender, distinguished-looking man. His intellectual face is thin and oval; his eyes are large, dark and brilliant, showing his Spanish birth. He received us in his private apartments in the Vatican. They are among the most interesting of the 1,200 rooms in that great building and were once occupied by that famous pope who was a Borgia. The ceilings and walls down to the floor are painted magnificently, the decoration having been done by the hand of a master artist of Borgia's reign. For centuries the suite now occupied by Cardinal del Val had been part of the Vatican library. The beautiful walls were once hidden by a coat of rude whitewash, but the paintings were discovered not long ago and restored once more to view.

Before visiting the Vatican I called upon Monsignor Kennedy, the rector of the American college. Monsignor Kennedy is a learned and an exceedingly agreeable American and under his efficient management the number of students in the college has been doubled within a few years. He enabled me to meet Pope Pius' Maestro di Camera. By the good offices of Cardinal del Val and the Maestro di Camera, it was arranged that I should have a private audience with the Holy Father the following day, Monsignor Kennedy acting as interpreter.

Pope Pius received us in his private room adjoining the public audience chamber, where distinguished Catholics from all over the world were collected and ready to be presented and receive the papal blessing. The private audience room is a rather small apartment, simply, but beautifully furnished and decorated. A throne bearing the papal crown occupied one side of the room. His Holiness greeted us very courteously and cordially. He wore a long white cassock, with a girdle at the waist; the fisherman's ring was on his finger and he wore a small, closely fitting skull-cap of white. I had an opportunity to study his face. It is a round, strong face, full of kindliness and benevolence, but there are not lacking indications that its possessor has a purpose and will of his own. The face is ruddy and the nose rather long – it is straight and not arched. His eyes are large, blue and friendly. The scant hair visible below the skull-cap is white. In stature the Holy Father is about five feet nine or ten inches and his figure is sturdy, but not too heavy. His step is light and gives an impression of strength and good health.

His Holiness has already gained a reputation as a democratic pontiff and enjoys a large and growing popularity with the people. He is an orator and often on Sunday goes into one of the many court yards of the Vatican and preaches to the crowds that gather quite informally. His gestures are said to be graceful and his voice melodious. His manner is earnest and his thoughts are expressed in clear and emphatic language. There is a feeling in Rome that Pius X. is going to be known in history as a reformer – not as a reformer of doctrine, but as one who will popularize the church's doctrine with a view to increasing the heartiness and zeal of the masses in the application of religious truth to everyday life.

I assured his Holiness that I appreciated the opportunity that was his to give impetus to the moral forces of the world, and he replied: "I hope my efforts in that direction will be such as to merit commendation." Answering my statement that I called to present the good will of many Catholic friends as well as to pay my respects, His Holiness asked me to carry his benediction back to them.

If I may venture an opinion upon such brief observation, it is that heart characteristics will dominate the present pontiff's course. He is not so renowned a scholar and diplomat as was his predecessor, nor is he so skilled in statecraft, but he is a virile, energetic, practical religious teacher, charitable, abounding in good works and full of brotherly love. I am confident that he will play an important part in the world-wide conflict between man and mammon.

The world has made and is making great progress in education and in industry. The percentage of illiteracy is everywhere steadily decreasing. The standards of art and taste are rising and the forces of nature are being harnessed to do the work of man. Steam, madly escaping from its prison walls, turns myriad wheels and drags our commerce over land and sea, while electricity, more fleet of foot than Mercury, has become the message-bearer of millions. Even the waves of the air are now obedient to the command of man and intelligence is flashed across the ocean without the aid of wires. With this dominion over nature man has been able to advance his physical well-being, as well as to enlarge his mental horizon, but has the moral development of the people kept pace with material prosperity? The growing antagonism between capital and labor, the lack of sympathy often manifest between those of the same race and even of the same religion, when enjoying incomes quite unequal – these things would seem to indicate that the heart has lagged behind the head and the purse. The restoration of the equilibrium and the infusing of a feeling of brotherhood that will establish justice and good will must be the aim of those who are sincerely interested in the progress of the race. This is pre-eminently the work of our religious teachers, although it is a work in which the laity as well as the clergy must take part.

After meeting Pius X., late the beloved patriarch of Venice, I feel assured that he is peculiarly fitted to lead his portion of the Christian church in this great endeavor.

The Vatican, which serves as the home and executive offices of the supreme pontiff of the Catholic church, is an enormous building, or rather collection of buildings, for it bears evidence of additions and annexes. One might be easily lost in its maze of corridors. The ceilings of the chief apartments are high and, like the walls of the spacious rooms and halls, are covered with frescoes of priceless value. The Vatican adjoins St. Peter's cathedral – or basilica as it is called – a description of whose beauties would fill a volume. The basilica is so harmoniously proportioned that one does not appreciate its vastness from a distance, but once within its walls it is easy to credit the statement that fifty thousand persons can be crowded into it. In a crypt just beneath the great dome is the tomb of St. Peter, about which myriad lamps are kept constantly burning. Near the tomb is a crucifix suspended under a canopy supported by four spiral columns that are replicas of a column elsewhere in the cathedral that is said to have been part of Solomon's temple. Not far from the crucifix is the famous bronze statue of St. Peter, made from a pagan statue of Jupiter. It is mounted upon a pedestal about five feet high and the large toe of the right foot, which projects over the pedestal has been worn smooth by the lips of devout visitors to the basilica.

To me the most remarkable of the splendors of the cathedral were the mosaic pictures, of which there are many of heroic size. These mosaics depict Bible scenes and characters and are done with such marvelous skill that a little way off one can hardly doubt that they are the product of the brush of some great master. The colors, tints and shades are so perfect that it is difficult to believe that the pictures are formed by the piecing together of tiny bits of colored marbles and other stones. The Vatican maintains a staff of artists in mosaic, some of whose work may be purchased by the public. I was shown the masterpiece of Michael Angelo in the cathedral of St. Peter in Vinculo – a statue of Moses, seated. In the right knee there is a slight crack visible and it is tradition that, when the great sculptor had finished his work, he struck the knee with his mallet in a burst of enthusiasm and exclaimed, "Now, speak." St. Paul's cathedral, which stands outside the ancient wall of the city, is of modern construction and is therefore less interesting to the visitor than the great basilica of St. Peter's.

Next to the Vatican and the cathedrals in interest are the ruins of ancient Rome. In England and France I had seen buildings many centuries old; in Rome one walks at the foot of walls that for nearly two thousand years have defied the ravages of time. The best preserved and most stupendous of the relics of "The Eternal City" is the Colosseum. It is built upon a scale that gives some idea of the largeness of Roman conceptions and of the prodigality with which the emperors expended the money and labor of the people. The arena in which the gladiators fought with their fellows and with wild beasts – the arena in which many of the Christian martyrs met their death – is slightly oval in form, the longest diameter being about 250 feet. The arena was so arranged that it could be flooded with water and used for aquatic tournaments. The spectators looked down upon the contests from galleries that rose in four tiers to a height of 150 feet. At one end of the arena was the tribune occupied by the emperor and his suite; at the other end the vestal virgins occupied another tribune and it was their privilege to confer either life or death upon the vanquished gladiators by turning the thumb up or down – turned up it meant life, turned down, death. The Roman populace gained access to the galleries by 160 doors and stairways. The seating capacity of the Colosseum is estimated to have been fifty thousand.

The Forum is even richer than the Colosseum in historic interest and recent excavations have brought to light what are supposed to be the tomb of Cæsar and the tomb of Romulus. The tribune is pointed out from which the Roman orators addressed the multitude. Here Cicero hurled his invectives at Cataline and Mark Antony is by Shakespeare made to plead here for fallen Cæsar. The triumphal arch of Constantine stands at one end of the Forum and is in an excellent state of preservation. Among the carvings lately exhumed are some (especially attractive to an agriculturist) showing the forms of the bull, the sheep and the hog. They are so like the best breeds of these animals to-day that one can scarcely believe they were chiseled from stone nearly twenty centuries ago. In Rome, as in Paris, there is a Pantheon in the familiar style of Greek architecture. In the Roman Pantheon is the tomb of Raphael. Cardinal Bembo, in recognition of Raphael's genius, caused to be placed upon his tomb a Latin epitaph which Hope has translated:

 
"Living, great nature feared he might outvie
Her works, and dying fears herself to die."
 

To those who are familiar with Roman history the river Tiber is an object of interest, but here, as is often the case, one feels disappointed in finding that the thing pictured was larger than the reality. The Tiber, yellow as the Missouri, flows through the very heart of Rome and is kept within its channel by a high stone embankment. In and near Rome are many ancient palaces, some of them falling into decay, and some well preserved. One of the most modern of the palaces of the Italian nobles was built by American money, the wife being a member of a wealthy New York family. Part of this palace is now occupied by the American ambassador, Mr. Myer, to whom I am indebted for courtesies extended in Rome. Art galleries and museums are numerous in Rome and in the other cities of Italy, and contain many of the works of the great Italian artists like Raphael, Angelo, Titian and others. The palace of King Victor Emmanuel and the public buildings of Rome are imposing, but do not compare in size or magnificence with the ancient palaces of England and France. The journey from Rome to Venice carried us through a very fertile part of Italy. The land is carefully cultivated; the thrifty farmers in some places have set out mulberry trees for the cultivation of the silk worm and have trained grape vines upon the trees.

We passed through the edge of Venice and saw the gondoliers on the Grand Canal waiting to carry passengers into the city. A very intelligent Italian newspaper correspondent whom I met in Rome informed me that the northern provinces of Italy were much further advanced in education than the southern provinces, but that the people of the south were mentally very alert and with the addition of instruction would soon reach the intellectual level of the north.

My stay in Italy was all too brief and I left with much reluctance this nursery of early civilization – this seat of government of the world's greatest religious organization.

CHAPTER LVIII.
TOLSTOY, THE APOSTLE OF LOVE

Count Leo Tolstoy, the intellectual giant of Russia, the moral Titan of Europe and the world's most conspicuous exponent of the doctrine of love, is living a life of quiet retirement upon his estate near the village of Yasnaya, Poliana, about one hundred and thirty miles south of Moscow.

I made a visit to the home of this pleasant philosopher during my stay in Russia, driving from Tula in the early morning and arriving just after daylight. Consul General Smith of Moscow arranged with Count Tolstoy for the visit. I had intended remaining only a few hours, but his welcome was so cordial that my stay was prolonged until near midnight. Count Tolstoy is now about seventy-six years old, and while he shows the advance of years he is still full of mental vigor and retains much of his physical strength. As an illustration of the latter I might refer to the horseback ride and walk which we took together in the afternoon. The ride covered about four miles and the walk about two. When we reached the house the count said that he would take a little rest and insisted that I should do likewise. A few minutes later, when I expressed to the count's physician, Dr. Burkenheim, the fear that he might have overtaxed his strength, the doctor smilingly assured me that the count usually took more exercise, but had purposely lessened his allowance that day, fearing that he might fatigue me.

Count Tolstoy is an impressive figure. His years have only slightly bowed his broad shoulders and his step is still alert. In height he is about five feet eight, his head is large and his abundant hair is not yet wholly white. His large blue eyes are set wide apart and are shaded by heavy eyebrows. The forehead is unusually wide and high. He wears a long, full beard that gives him a patriarchal appearance. The mouth is large and the lips full. The nose is rather long and the nostrils wide. The hands are muscular, and the grasp bespeaks warmth of heart. The count dresses like the peasants of his country, wearing a grayish-blue blouse belted in at the waist, with skirts reaching nearly to the boot-tops. His trousers, also of the peasant style, are inclined to be baggy and are stuffed into his boots. I was informed that the count never wears any other dress, even when other members of the family are entertaining guests in evening clothes.

The room which I occupied was the one used by the count as a study in his younger days, and I was shown a ring in the ceiling from which at the age of forty-eight he planned to hang himself – a plan from which he was turned by the resolve to change the manner and purpose of his life. As is well known, Count Tolstoy is a member of the Russian nobility and for nearly fifty years led the life of a nobleman. He early achieved fame as a novelist, his "War and Peace," which was written when he was but a young man, being considered one of the literary masterpieces of the century. He sounded all the "depths and shoals of honor" in the literary and social world; he realized all that one could wish or expect in these lines, but found that success did not satisfy the cravings of the inner man. While he was meditating upon what he had come to regard as a wasted life, a change came over him, and with a faith that has never faltered he turned about and entered upon a career that has been unique in history. He donned the simple garb of a peasant, and, living frugally, has devoted himself to philosophy and unremunerative work – that is, unremunerative from a financial standpoint, although he declares that it has brought him more genuine enjoyment than he ever knew before. All of his books written since this change in his life have been given to the public without copyright, except in one instance, when the proceeds of "Resurrection" were pledged to the aid of the Russian Quakers, called Doukhobors, whom the count assisted to emigrate from their persecution in Russia to western Canada, where they now reside. As an evidence of the count's complete renunciation of all money considerations, it is stated that he has declined an offer of $500,000 for the copyright of the books written by him before his life current was altered.

My object in visiting him was not so much to learn his views – for his opinions have had wide expression and can be found in his numerous essays – but it was rather to see the man and ascertain if I could, from personal contact, learn the secret of the tremendous influence that he is exerting upon the thought of the world. I am satisfied that, notwithstanding his great intellect, his colossal strength lies in his heart more than in his mind. It is true that few have equaled him in power of analysis and in clearness of statement, while none have surpassed him in beauty and aptness of illustration. But no one can commune with him without feeling that the man is like an overflowing spring – asking nothing, but giving always. He preaches self-abnegation and has demonstrated to his own satisfaction that there is more genuine joy in living for others than in living upon others – more happiness in serving than in being served.

The purpose of life, as defined by him, has recently been quoted by Mr. Ernest Crosby in "The Open Court." It reads as follows:

"Life then is the activity of the animal individuality working in submission to the law of reason. Reason shows man that happiness cannot be obtained by a self-life and leaves only one outlet open for him and that is love. Love is the only legitimate manifestation of life. It is an activity and has for its object the good of others. When it makes its appearance the meaningless strife of the animal life ceases." Love is the dominant note in Count Tolstoy's philosophy. It is not only the only weapon of defense which he recognizes, but it is the only means by which he would influence others. It is both his shield and his sword. He is a deeply religious man, notwithstanding the fact that he was a few years ago excommunicated by the Russian church. In one of his essays he has defined religion as follows:

"True religion is a relation, accordant with reason and knowledge, which man establishes with the infinite life surrounding him, and it is such as binds his life to that infinity, and guides his conduct."

He not only takes his stand boldly upon the side of spiritual, as distinguished from material, philosophy, but he administers a rebuke to those who assume that religious sentiment is an indication of intellectual weakness or belongs to the lower stages of man's development. In his essay on "Religion and Morality," to which he referred me for his opinion on this subject, he says:

"Moreover, every man who has ever, even in childhood, experienced religious feelings, knows by personal experience that it was evoked in him, not by external, terrifying, material phenomena, but by an inner consciousness, which had nothing to do with the fear of the unknown forces of nature – a consciousness of his own insignificance, loneliness and guilt. And, therefore, both by external observation and by personal experience, man may know that religion is not the worship of gods, evoked by superstitious fear of the invisible forces of nature, proper to men only at a certain period of their development; but is something quite independent either of fear or of their degree of education – a something that cannot be destroyed by any development of culture. For man's consciousness of his finiteness amid an infinite universe, and of his sinfulness (i. e., of his not having done all he might and should have done) has always existed and will exist as long as man remains man."

If religion is an expression of "man's consciousness of his finiteness amid an infinite universe, and of his sinfulness," it cannot be outgrown until one believes himself to have reached perfection and to possess all knowledge, and observation teaches us that those who hold this opinion of themselves are not the farthest advanced, but simply lack that comprehension of their own ignorance and frailty which is the very beginning of progress.

Count Tolstoy is an advocate of the doctrine of non-resistance. He not only believes that evil can be overcome by good, but he denies that it can be overcome in any other way. I asked him several questions on the subject, and the following dialogue presents his views:

Q. Do you draw any line between the use of force to avenge an injury already received, and the use of force to protect yourself from injury about to be inflicted?

A. No. Instead of using violence to protect myself, I ought rather to express my sorrow that I had done anything that would make anyone desire to injure me.

Q. Do you draw a line between the use of force to protect a right and the use of force to create a right?

A. No. That is the excuse generally given for the use of violence. Men insist that they are simply defending a right, when, in fact, they are trying to secure something that they desire and to which they are not entitled. The use of violence is not necessary to secure one's rights; there are more effective means.

Q. Do you draw any distinction between the use of force to protect yourself and the use of force to protect someone under your care – a child, for instance?

A. No. As we do not attain entirely to our ideals, we might find it difficult in such a case not to resort to the use of force, but it would not be justifiable, and, besides, rules cannot be made for such exceptional cases. Millions of people have been the victims of force and have suffered because it has been thought right to employ it; but I am now old and I have never known in all my life a single instance in which a child was attacked in such a way that it would have been necessary for me to use force for its protection. I prefer to consider actual rather than imaginary cases.

I found later that this last question had been answered in a letter on non-resistance addressed to Mr. Ernest Crosby, in 1896 (included in a little volume of Tolstoy's Essays and Letters recently published by Grant Richards, Leicester Square, London, and reprinted by Funk & Wagnalls of New York). In this letter he says:

"None of us has ever yet met the imaginary robber with the imaginary child, but all the horrors which fill the annals of history and of our own times came and come from this one thing – that people will believe that they can foresee the results of hypothetical future actions."

When I visited him he was just finishing an introduction to a biographical sketch of William Lloyd Garrison, his attention having been called to Garrison by the latter's advocacy of the doctrine of non-resistance.

Tolstoy, in one of his strongest essays that he has written – an essay entitled "Industry and Idleness" – elaborates and defends the doctrine advanced by a Russian named Bondaref, to the effect that each individual should labor with his hands, at least to the extent of producing his own food. I referred to this and asked him for a brief statement of his reasons. He said that it was necessary for one to engage in manual labor in order to keep himself in sympathy with those who toil, and he described the process by which people first relieve themselves of the necessity of physical exertion and then come to look with a sort of contempt upon those who find it necessary to work with their hands. He believes that a lack of sympathy lies at the root of most of the injustice which men suffer at the hands of their fellows. He holds that it is not sufficient that one can remember a time when he earned his bread in the sweat of his brow, but that he must continue to know what physical fatigue means and what drudgery is, in order that he may rightly estimate his brother and deal with him as a brother. In addition to this he says that, when one begins to live upon the labor of others, he is never quite sure that he is earning his living. Let me quote his language: "If you use more than you produce you cannot be quite content, if you are a conscientious man. Who can know how much I work? It is impossible. A man must work as much as he can with his hands, taking the most difficult and disagreeable tasks, that is, if he wishes to have a quiet conscience. Mental work is much easier than physical work, despite what is said to the contrary. No work is too humble, too disagreeable, to do. No man ought to dodge work. If I dodge work I feel guilty. There are some people who think they are so precious that other people must do the dirty, disagreeable work for them. Every man is so vain as to think his own work the most important. That is why I try to work with my hands by the side of workingmen. If I write a book, I cannot be quite sure whether it will be useful or not. If I produce something that will support life, I know that I have done something useful."

Tolstoy presents an ideal, and while he recognizes that the best of efforts is but an approach to the ideal, he does not consent to the lowering of the ideal itself or the defense of anything that aims at less than the entire realization of the ideal. He is opposed to what he calls palliatives, and insists that we need the reformation of the individual more than the reformation of law or government. He holds that the first thing to do is to substitute the Christian spirit for the selfish spirit. He likens those who are trying to make piecemeal progress to persons who are trying to push cars along a track by putting their shoulders against the cars. He says that they could better employ their energy by putting steam in the engine, which would then pull the cars. And the religious spirit he defines as "such a belief in God and such a feeling of responsibility to God as will manifest itself both in the worship of the Creator and in the fellowship with the created."

During the course of conversation he touched on some of the problems with which the various nations have to deal. Of course he is opposed to war under all circumstances, and regards the professional soldier as laboring under a delusion. He says that soldiers, instead of following their consciences, accept the doctrine that a soldier must do what he is commanded to do, placing upon his superior officer the responsibility for the command. He denies that any individual can thus shift the responsibility for his conduct. In speaking of soldiers, he expressed an opinion that indicates his hostility to the whole military system. He said that soldiers insisted upon being tried by military men and military courts, and added: "That is amusing. I remember that when that plea was made in a case recently, I retorted that if that was so, why was not a murderer justified in demanding a trial at the hands of murderers, or a burglar in demanding trial by a jury of burglars. That would be on all fours with the other proposition."

He is not a believer in protection, and regards a tariff levied upon all of the people for the benefit of some of the people as an abuse of government and immoral in principle. I found that he was an admirer of Henry George and a believer in his theory in regard to the single tax.