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'The Light 
 That Shines In Darkness 
 
 A Drama 
 
 BY 
 
 LEO TOLSTOY 
 
 In' Author of "Anna Karenina,'* " Risurrection" etc. 
 
 Edited by Dr. Hagberg Wright 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY 
 
 1912 
 
PRESERVATION 
 COPY ADDED 
 ORIGINAL TO BE 
 RETAINED 
 
 im 2 9 1> 
 
 COFYRIGHr, IQia, 
 
 Bt DODD, mead & COMPANY 
 
PREFACE 
 
 TOLSTOY AS DRAMATIST 
 
 In almost every kind of literary work he touched, 
 Tolstoy succeeded at once In reaching the fore- 
 most rank. 
 
 When he sent his first story, Childhood, anony- 
 mously to the poet Nekrasov, editor of The Cott' 
 temporary (then the leading Petersburg maga- 
 zine), the latter promptly accepted and published 
 it; Dostoyevsky was so struck by It that he wrote 
 from Siberia to inquire who its talented author 
 was; Turgenev sang Its praises, and Panaev was 
 so delighted with It that his friends. It was said, 
 had to avoid him on the Nevsky lest he should In- 
 sist on reading them extracts from It. 
 
 When Tolstoy turned from stories to novels he 
 achieved the same immediate and complete suc- 
 cess. The appearance of the first instalment of 
 War and Peace sufficed to place him abreast of the 
 world's greatest writers of fiction. 
 
 Fourteen years later he turned to spiritual auto- 
 
 5 
 
 235402 
 
6 PREFACE 
 
 biography, and his Confession immediately took 
 rank beside those of St. Augustine and Rousseau. 
 
 When he propounded his interpretation of 
 Christ's teaching, his works produced a profound 
 impression and, though they were prohibited in 
 Russia, found a large circulation abroad besides 
 a surreptitious one at home. 
 
 Next he took to writing short, simple stories 
 for the people, and the very first of these, fVhat 
 Men Live By (v. Twenty-three Tales) ^ circulated 
 by hundreds of thousands of copies In Russia, was 
 translated Into all civilised languages, and de- 
 lighted people, old and young, in the Rvc conti- 
 nents. 
 
 When he turned his attention to social prob- 
 lems, and wrote fVhat Then Must We Dof the 
 book aroused the deepest Interest wherever It was 
 read, and was promptly recognised as one of the 
 most remarkable studies of poverty ever penned. 
 
 He took to essays, and at once produced a 
 series which many readers have declared to be as 
 Interesting and stimulating as any that were ever 
 written. 
 
 Interested in the philosophy of art, he wrote 
 What is Art? His preparation for this attempt 
 
PREFACE 7 
 
 to put art on a new basis took him, It Is true, fifteen 
 years, and a majority of critics everywhere de- 
 nounced the opinions he expressed; but, at any 
 rate, there was no doubt about the general Interest 
 he aroused, and the longer the matter Is discussed, 
 the stronger grows the suspicion that on the main 
 point of the discussion Tolstoy saw deeper than his 
 critics, and that, great artist as he was, his phi- 
 losophy of art as well as his practice of it was 
 fundamentally sound. 
 
 Finally his philippics, such as his Reply to the 
 Synod, which had excommunicated him (v. Essays 
 and Letters), and his denunciation of the Courts- 
 martial In / Cannot he Silent! rang out with a sin- 
 cerity, courage, and effectiveness unparalleled since 
 Pascal's Provincial Letters, or the famous theses 
 Luther nailed to the church door at Wittenberg. 
 
 Only as a dramatist did Tolstoy fail at his first 
 attempt; and even In that direction success came 
 so promptly that It is his success rather than his 
 failure that surprises one. 
 
 As a seventeen-year-old student at Kazan Uni- 
 versity, he had taken part with much success in 
 two plays given for some charity at Carnival time; 
 and his taste for theatricals did not soon pass, 
 
8 PREFACE 
 
 for in later years, when writing of the time after 
 his return from the defence of Sevastopol, and tell- 
 ing of the death of his brother Demetrius, he 
 adds: " I really believe that what hurt me most 
 was that his death prevented my taking part in 
 some private theatricals then being got up at 
 Court and to which I had been Invited." 
 
 While living in Petersburg and Moscow as a 
 young man, Tolstoy was enthusiastic In his admira- 
 tion of one of the great Russian actors of those 
 days ; but he never lived much In cities, and prob- 
 ably no other great dramatist ever spent so little 
 time in the theatre as he did. In that, as In many 
 other lines of work, his quickness of perception, 
 tenacity of memory and vividness of emotion en- 
 abled him to dispense with the long training men 
 of less genius require. 
 
 In 1863, soon after his marriage, he wrote two 
 plays which were never published. One, a farcical 
 comedy called The Nihilist, was privately per- 
 formed with much success. The other, also a 
 comedy, called The Infected Family, he Intended 
 for public performance. With that end In view, 
 Tolstoy took It to Moscow early In 1864. The 
 theatrical season (which In Russia ends at the be- 
 
PREFACE 9 
 
 ginning of Lent) was then, however, too far ad- 
 vanced for any manager to stage the piece that 
 winter; and, as it dealt with a topic of the day 
 which lost some of its freshness by keeping, Tol- 
 stoy never afterwards offered it to any one. 
 
 That was the one and only rebuff he ever had 
 to face in his literary career, if one excepts the 
 amusing incident of his sending a short prose poem 
 anonymously to a Moscow newspaper, and re- 
 ceiving it back declined with thanks, on the ground 
 that its author was " not yet sufficiently expert in 
 expression ! " For the next six ye^rs he seems not 
 to have taken any interest in the drama; but in 
 1870 we find him writing to Fet: — 
 
 " There is much, very much, I want to tell you 
 about. I have been reading a lot of Shakespear, 
 Goethe, Pushkin, Gogol and Moliere, and about 
 all of them there is much I want to say to you." 
 
 A few days later he again wrote to the same 
 friend : — 
 
 " You want to read me a story of cavalry life 
 . . . And I don't want to read you anything, 
 because I am not writing anything; but I very 
 much want to talk about Shakespear and 
 Goethe, and the drama in general. This whole 
 
10 PREFACE 
 
 winter I am occupied only with the drama ; and it 
 happens to me, as usually happens to people who, 
 till they are forty, have not thought of a certain 
 subject, or formed any conception of it; and then 
 suddenly, with forty-year-old clearness, turn their 
 attention to this new, untasted subject — It seems 
 to them that they discern In It much that Is new. 
 All winter I have enjoyed myself lying down, 
 drowsing, playing bezique, snow-shoeing, skating, 
 and most of all lying in bed (ill) while characters 
 from a drama or comedy have performed for me. 
 And they perform very well. It is about that I 
 want to talk to you. In that, as in everything, you 
 are a classic and understand the essence of the 
 matter very deeply. I should like also to read 
 Sophocles and Euripides." 
 
 The mood passed, and for another fifteen years 
 one hears no more about it: Tolstoy being 
 absorbed first in the production of an ABC Book 
 for school-children, then with Anna Karenina, 
 then with his Confession and religious studies, as 
 well as with field-work, hut-building, and boot- 
 making. 
 
 Early in 1886, noting the wretched character of 
 the plays given in the booths at the Carnival 
 
PREFACE II 
 
 Shows on the Maidens' Field just outside Moscow, 
 not far from his own house, and feeling how 
 wrong It was that the dramatic food of the people 
 should consist of the crudest melodramas, he was 
 moved to turn Into a play a small Temperance 
 story he had written. This piece, called The First 
 Distiller, Is of no great Importance In Itself, but 
 was the precursor of the splendid dramas he soon 
 afterwards produced. 
 
 The following summer, while out ploughing, he 
 hurts his leg, neglects It, and gets erysipelas, which 
 almost leads to blood-poisoning. His life Is in 
 imminent danger, he has to undergo a painful 
 operation. Is laid up for weeks, and while 111 writes 
 most of The Power of Darkness, an Immensely 
 powerful play which serves as a touchstone for 
 those who have the Tolstoy feeling In them. 
 
 From the poisoning of Peter, the husband, in 
 the beginning, to the murder of the baby in the 
 middle, and NIkita's arrest at the end, the piece 
 is full of horrors which most people, who do not 
 look at things from Tolstoy's point of view, find 
 it wellnigh impossible to endure. To them the 
 play appears to be one of unmitigated blackness. 
 To Tolstoyans it is not so. The lies, the crimes, 
 
12 PREFACE 
 
 the horrors are there, as in real life; but in the 
 play one sees more clearly than In common life 
 the clue to the meaning of It all. When NIkita's 
 conscience begins to be touched; when Mitritch, 
 the old soldier, teaches him not to be afraid of 
 men; and finally when Akim, the old father, 
 rejoices that his son has confessed, the heavens 
 open and the purpose of life — the preparing for 
 what Is yet to come by getting things straight 
 here and now — Is revealed; and the effect of the 
 play. Instead of being sordid or painful, becomes 
 inspiring. 
 
 The play was founded on fact, though what 
 happened In real life was even more gruesome, 
 for in actual fact Nikita's prototype, when on 
 the point of driving off to Akulina's wedding, 
 suddenly seized a large wooden wedge and aimed 
 a tremendous blow at her younger sister; and he 
 did this not out of malice, but because he felt so 
 sure that it is a misfortune to be alive in a world 
 where things have gone so wrong as they have 
 done In the world we live In. Fortunately his 
 blow, which seemed certain to kill the girl, glanced 
 aside, and merely stunned her without doing her 
 any permanent Injury. 
 
PREFACE 13 
 
 The Power of Darkness was prohibited by the 
 
 Dramatic Censor, and throughout the reign of 
 
 Alexander III. its public performance In Russia 
 
 was forbidden. 
 
 It was produced for the first time at the Theatre 
 Libre In Paris, In February 188J5. Among Its 
 most enthusiastic admirers was Zola, who was as 
 anxious about it as he could have been had it 
 been his own work. " Above all, do not strike 
 out a single scene or a single word, and do not 
 fear for Its success," said he at one of the re- 
 hearsals ; and he was quite right. The piece had a 
 tremendous success, and was played at one and the 
 same time at three different Paris theatres, as 
 well as at the Frele Biihnen In Berlin, where It 
 had a similar triumph. After the accession of 
 Nicholas II. It was acted In Russia, and took 
 rank at once as one of the greatest masterpieces of 
 Russian dramatic art, and as such holds a place In 
 the repertory of the best Moscow and Petersburg 
 theatres. 
 
 Many Englishmen who have seen It have been 
 Immensely impressed by It. Laurence Irving 
 wrote me: *' I suppose England is the only country 
 in Europe where The Power of Darkness has not 
 
14 PREFACE 
 
 been acted. It ought to be done. It is a stupen- 
 dous tragedy; the effect on the stage is unparal- 
 leled.'' Bernard Shaw, writing to Tolstoy, said, 
 *' I remember nothing in the whole range of 
 drama that fascinated me more than the old 
 soldier in your Power of Darkness, One of the 
 things that struck me In that play was the feeling 
 that the preaching of the old man, right as he was, 
 could never be of any use — that it could only 
 anger his son and rub the last grains of self- 
 respect out of him. But what the pious and good 
 father could not do, the old rascal of a soldier 
 did as if he was the voice of God. To me that 
 scene, where the two drunkards are wallowing in 
 the straw and the older rascal lifts the younger 
 one above his cowardice and his selfishness, has 
 an intensity of effect that no merely romantic 
 scene could possibly attain." Arthur Symons 
 wrote : " More than any play I have ever seen, 
 this astounding play of Tolstoy's seems to me to 
 fulfil Aristotle's demand upon tragedy : * Through 
 pity and fear effecting the proper purgation of 
 these emotions.' I had never read it; my im- 
 pression was gained directly from seeing It on the 
 stage. Well, though as I listened to it I felt the 
 
PREFACE 15 
 
 pity anH fear to be almost insupportable, I left 
 the theatre with a feeling of exultation, as I have 
 left a concert room after hearing a piece of noble 
 and tragic music. How out of such human dis- 
 cords such a divine harmony can be woven I do 
 not know; that is the secret of Tolstoy's genius, as 
 It is the secret of the musician's. Here, achieved 
 in terms of naked horror, I found some of the 
 things that Maeterlinck has aimed at and never 
 quite rendered through an atmosphere and through 
 forms of vague beauty. And I found also an- 
 other kind of achievement, by the side of which 
 Ibsen's cunning adjustments of reality seemed 
 either trivial or unreal. Here, for once, human 
 life is islanded on the stage, a pin-point of light in 
 an immense darkness; and the sense of that sur- 
 rounding darkness Is conveyed to us as in no other 
 play that I have ever seen, by an awful sincerity 
 and by an unparalleled simplicity. Whether Tol- 
 stoy has learnt by instinct some stage-craft which 
 playwrights have been toiling after In vain, or by 
 what conscious and deliberate art he has supple- 
 mented instinct, I do not know. But, out of hor- 
 ror and humour, out of the dregs of human life 
 and out of mere faith in those dregs, somehow, as 
 
i6 PREFACE 
 
 a man of genius does once in an age, Tolstoy has 
 In this play made for us the great modern play, 
 the great play of the nineteenth century." 
 
 That Tolstoy should thus have begun success-- 
 ful play-wrlting at a time when he was supposed 
 to have turned aside from art, and when he was 
 nearly sixty years of age, was remarkable; but at 
 any rate The Power of Darkness was a serious 
 piece, obviously dealing with moral questions 
 which stirred his soul profoundly at the time ; and, 
 moreover, he wrote It for the People's Theatre, 
 started to provide first-rate drama for the peas- 
 ants. It came, therefore, as a yet greater sur- 
 prise to many people when, three years later, he 
 was persuaded by his daughters to write a comedy 
 for them to perform at home, Yasnaya Polyana. 
 
 One knows pretty welLhow it happened. The 
 taste for play-wrlting was strong upon him. 
 After more than twelve years devoted to didactic 
 work which gave his sense of humour little or no 
 scope, It was In the nature of things that he should 
 feel some reaction. 
 
 At first the play was to have been only a short 
 two-act affair. He did not like to refuse his 
 daughters' request, and thought that if they must 
 
PREFACE 17 
 
 act something, it was better that they should act a 
 play voicing his contempt for the follies and ex- 
 travagance of society and his consciousness of the 
 peasants' needs. Once started on the work, how- 
 ever, it took hold of him and grew and grew, till 
 it became a full-fledged four-act comedy with over 
 thirty speaking characters in it, and with the 
 didactic purpose overwhelmed by the fun, the 
 bustle, and the stage-craft of it. 
 
 After many rehearsals this play, Fruits of Cul- 
 ture, was performed at Yasnaya Polyana on De- 
 cember 30, 1889, with Immense success. Tanya, 
 Tolstoy's eldest daughter, took the part of her 
 namesake In "the play very successfully, and Mary, 
 his second daughter, played the cook most admir- 
 ably. ' 
 
 Tolstoy himself heartily enjoyed the perform- 
 ance. One greatly respects his thirty-year 
 struggle to live a simple life, consuming little and 
 giving much; but one does not love him the less 
 for the occasional lapses into whole-hearted gaiety 
 which light up the record of his life, and show 
 us how very human was this giant. Yasnaya 
 Polyana, on New Year's eve 1889, crammed with 
 guests all in the highest spirits; the large upstairs 
 
i8 PREFACE 
 
 room full of spectators laughing till their sides 
 ached at Tolstoy's comedy, is a scene those who 
 would understand Tolstoy should by no means 
 forget or despise. Yet, even then, the other side 
 of his nature, which never let him rest, caused him 
 to note in his Diary: " I am ashamed of all this 
 expense in the midst of poverty." 
 
 The whole company threw themselves Into the 
 piece with enthusiasm, and acted really well. In 
 particular, V. M. Lopatin, a neighbouring Justice 
 of the Peace, extracted from the part of the Third 
 Peasant so much more than Its author had antici- 
 pated or even intended, that Tolstoy, in ecstasies, 
 slapped his thighs and laughed till the tears rolled 
 down his cheeks ; for he was always extremely sus- 
 ceptible to anything really good, whether In acting 
 or In other forms of art. 
 
 I well remember meeting at Yasnaya Polyana, 
 on two different occasions, the sculptor Ginzburg, 
 who was an admirable mimic. He could keep a 
 room full of people entranced while he enacted 
 a Jew tailor stitching clothes, or a nurse tending 
 or neglecting an imaginary baby. None of those 
 present expressed warmer admiration of these per- 
 formances than did Tolstoy himself, and when he 
 
PREFACE 19 
 
 went for a walk with us afterwards, he said to 
 Ginzburg with great animation : 
 
 " Ah, if our theatre realists could only be got to 
 understand that what is wanted is not to put real 
 babies on the stage or show the real messes they 
 make, but to convey, as you do, by voice and fea- 
 ture the real feeling that has to be expressed! " 
 
 No blunder made by Tolstoy's critics is more 
 gratuitous or indefensible than the pretence that 
 he was indifferent to the form of art, or demanded 
 of it that it should always have a directly didactic 
 intention. 
 
 Not without express purpose did he, in What 
 is Art? write, " Art is a means of union among 
 men, joining them together in the same feelings, 
 and Indispensable for the life and progress 
 towards well-being of individuals and of hu- 
 manity " ; and he then goes on to say: " Thanks to 
 man's capacity to be infected with the feelings of 
 others by means of art, all that Is being lived 
 through by his contemporaries is accessible to him, 
 as well as the feelings experienced by men 
 thousands of years ago, and he has also the possi- 
 bility of transmitting his own feelings to others." 
 
 " If men lacked this capacity of being Infected 
 
20 PREFACE 
 
 by art, people would be more separated and hos- 
 tile to one another, and more savage than wild 
 beasts. Therefore, the activity of art Is a most 
 important one — as Important as the activity of 
 speech Itself, and as generally diffused.'* And in 
 a memorable passage he adds, '* We are accus- 
 tomed to understand art to be only what we hear 
 and see in theatres, concerts, and exhibitions; to- 
 gether with buildings, statues, poems, novels. 
 . . . But all this Is but the smallest part of the 
 art by which we communicate with each other In 
 life. All human life Is filled with works of art of 
 every kind — from cradle-song, jest, mimicry, the 
 ornamentation of houses, dress, and utensils, up to 
 church services, buildings, monuments, and tri- 
 umphal processions. It is all artistic activity." 
 
 He Insists again and again on the value and 
 prevalence of art, and when speaking of those 
 primitive Christians and others who have wished 
 to repudiate art, he says, " Evidently such people 
 were wrong In repudiating all art, for they denied 
 that which cannot be denied — one of the Indis- 
 pensable means of communication, without which 
 mankind could not exist." 
 
 Tolstoy knew very well that a performance 
 
PREFACE 21 
 
 must be excellent in its form and method of ex- 
 pression In order to be a work of art. In the 
 Illustration he gives of the performance of music, 
 for Instance, he says that for musical execution to 
 be artistic and to transmit feeling, many condi- 
 tions are necessary, of which the three chief are 
 the pitch, the time, and the strength of the sound, 
 and he adds : " Musical execution is only then art, 
 only then infects, when the sound is neither higher 
 nor lower than it should be — that is, when exactly 
 the infinitely small centre of the required note is 
 taken ; when that note is continued exactly as long 
 as needed; and when the strength of the sound is 
 neither more nor less than is required. The 
 slightest deviation of pitch in either direction, the 
 slightest increase or decrease in time, or the 
 slightest strengthening or weakening of the sound 
 beyond what Is needed, destroys the perfection 
 and, consequently, the infectiousness of the work. 
 So that the feeling of infection by the art of music, 
 which seems so simple and so easily obtained, is a 
 thing we receive only when the performer finds 
 those infinitely minute degrees which are necessary 
 to perfection in music. It is the same in all arts : 
 a wee bit lighter, a wee bit darker, a wee bit 
 
22 PREFACE 
 
 higher, lower, to the right or the left — In paint- 
 ing; a wee bit weaker or stronger in intonation, or 
 a wee bit sooner or later — in dramatic art; a wee 
 bit omitted, over-emphasised, or exaggerated — 
 in poetry, and there is no contagion. It is only 
 obtained when an artist finds those infinitely minute 
 degrees of which a work of art consists, and only 
 to the extent to which he finds them.'* 
 
 Confronted by words such as these, it is amaz- 
 ing that any one can pretend that Tolstoy was in- 
 dif][erent to quality in the forms of art; but not 
 less amazing is the assertion that only what Is 
 directly moralising was considered by him fit 
 subject-matter for art. On this point his words 
 are decisive, when he includes among the subject- 
 matter suitable for good art, " the simplest feel- 
 ings of common life." 
 
 The truth Is that. In spite of certain preposses- 
 sions which tend to confuse the matter, and In spite 
 of his pugnacious controversial methods, which 
 often led to recrimination rather than to elucida- 
 tion, Tolstoy's greatness as an artist was increased 
 by the fact that he thoroughly understood the aim 
 and purpose of art; and he was able to speak with 
 authority on the philosophy of art, just because he 
 
PREFACE 23 
 
 was one of the most intellectual and Intelligent of 
 the world's artists. 
 
 As mentioned In my Life of Tolstoy, the main 
 theme In Fruits of Culture was drawn from Tol- 
 stoy's acquaintance with the Lvovs, a wealthy and 
 aristocratic family, the head of, which wished to 
 convert Tolstoy to spiritualism. The latter 
 sturdily maintained a sceptical attitude, arguing 
 that since mankind has been at the pains to dis- 
 criminate between matter (which can be Investi- 
 gated by the five senses) and spirit (which Is an 
 affair of the conscience, and cannot be Investi- 
 gated by the senses), we must not again confuse 
 the two by attempting to find physical evidence of 
 spiritual existence. If the phenomena we are 
 Investigating Is cognisable by the senses, then, he 
 argued, such phenomena are, ipso facto, not 
 spiritual, but material. In this, as In certain other 
 matters, Tolstoy, seeking clearness, painted in 
 black and white, and shunned those delicate shades 
 which often elude and perplex us — but without 
 which, after all, it is not always possible to get a 
 true picture. 
 
 Fruits of Culture found Its way on to the public 
 stage In Russia before The Power of Darkness, 
 
24 PREFACE 
 
 and both there and abroad the two plays have been 
 almost equally successful. It is often treated as 
 pure comedy, and the peasants presented as simply 
 comic characters. This Tolstoy did not intend, 
 and did not like. He meant the hardness of their 
 lot and their urgent need of land to stand out in 
 sharp contrast to the waste of wealth by the cul- 
 tured crowd. 
 
 During the last thirty years of his life Tolstoy 
 himself used, as is well known, to dress much like 
 a peasant, though never in the beggar-pilgrim 
 garb in which he Is made to figure In a Life of him 
 recently published in this country; and it happened 
 that one winter's day, when Fruits of Culture was 
 being rehearsed in Tula (the nearest town to Yas- 
 naya Polyana), he went, by request, to the hall 
 where it was being staged. Wearing his rough 
 sheepskin overcoat, he attempted to enter, but was 
 roughly shoved out by the doorkeeper, who told 
 him It was no place for the likes of him ! 
 
 The same year the play was presented at Tsar- 
 skoe Selo, by amateurs drawn from the high- 
 est circles of Court society, and was witnessed 
 by a dozen Grand Dukes and Grand-Duchesses 
 as well as by the Tsar himself, who warmly 
 
PREFACE 25 
 
 thanked the performers for the pleasure it 
 had given him. So the whirligig of time brought 
 it about that Tolstoy, who twenty-three years be- 
 fore had just missed his chance of acting at the 
 Imperial Court, now had a play of his own per- 
 formed there, while he himself was being mistaken 
 for a peasant, and on that account treated with 
 gross indignity. 
 
 We have Tolstoy's word for it that he would 
 have written more plays had it not been for the 
 censor. He once said, " I feel certain the censor 
 would not pass my plays. You would not believe 
 how, from the very commencement of my activity, 
 that horrible censor question has tormented me! 
 I wanted to write what I felt; but at the same time 
 it occurred to me that what I wrote would not 
 be permitted, and involuntarily I had to abandon 
 the work. I abandoned, and went on abandoning, 
 and meanwhile the years passed away." 
 
 He once expressed surprise that. In Fruits of 
 Culture, the drunken man-cook's monologue on the 
 ways of the rich folk was allowed to be performed. 
 
 Of the three plays left by Tolstoy for publi- 
 cation after his death, one is a short two-act Tem- 
 perance play called in English The Cause of it All 
 
26 PREFACE 
 
 (the Russian title Is a colloquialism difficult to ren- 
 der, but " From It all evil flows " Is as near as 
 one can get to It) . It does not claim to be a piece 
 of much Importance, but If ever It Is staged, it 
 should act easily and well. 
 
 Another of these posthumous plays Is The Man 
 That Was Dead (The Live Corpse), a powerful 
 piece, in which Tolstoy Introduces one of those 
 gipsy choirs which had such an influence on him 
 (and still more on his brother Serglus) when he 
 was a young man of twenty to twenty-three, before 
 he went to the Caucasus and entered the army. 
 
 The position of the gipsy choirs In Russia is 
 a peculiar one. Reputedly Egyptian in origin 
 (" Pharaoh's Tribe,'' one of the characters In the 
 play calls them), they live a life quite distinct 
 from that of the Russians, yet not at all resem- 
 bling that of the Itinerant gipsies one meets travel- 
 ling about with caravans in England. They 
 possess a remarkable musical talent, having a kind 
 of music both vocal and instrumental all their 
 own. They perform at special restaurants in the 
 suburbs of Moscow, and also give concerts in pub- 
 lic halls and at private houses. It Is no more 
 unusual for Russian noblemen to marry gipsy girls 
 
PREFACE 27 
 
 than it is for English noblemen to marry Gaiety 
 girls. The songs referred to in Scene ll are all 
 well-known gipsy songs, and If staged with a real 
 gipsy choir to perform them, this should be one of 
 the most striking scenes In the play. 
 
 Tolstoy himself held that gipsy music deserved 
 to rank among the best kinds of music, on account 
 of Its genuine spontaneity, the depth of feeling In 
 It, and the exquisite perfection with which it Is 
 rendered by the gipsies. His own daughters used 
 to play and sing gipsy songs admirably. 
 
 The main plot of this play, like that of The 
 Power of Darkness^ was supplied to Tolstoy by 
 his friend N. V. Davydov, a Judge and a Lecturer 
 on criminal law at Moscow University, who fre- 
 quently drew his attention to cases that occurred 
 In the Law Courts, and which Davydov thought 
 might provide suitable subjects for a story or a 
 drama. 
 
 Curiously enough, after Tolstoy had written 
 this play, he was visited first by the stepson of the 
 " live corpse," and then by the " live corpse " him- 
 self. The latter had been convicted, had served 
 his time, and had returned to Moscow. He had 
 given up drink and was seeking means of subsist- 
 
28 PREFACE 
 
 ence, when he heard of the play Tolstoy was writ- 
 ing, and that it was founded on his own case. 
 Tolstoy questioned him carefully, and as a result 
 of the conversation rewrote the play In order to 
 set the conduct of the corpse In a more favourable 
 light than before. In this revised version Tol- 
 stoy makes him finally commit suicide, whereas in 
 an earlier version the law took its course as It did 
 in real life, and matters only settled down and 
 adjusted themselves after his victims had served 
 their sentences and justice had ceased to meddle. 
 
 Tolstoy also gave the " corpse " a letter to 
 Davydov, who obtained for him some small post 
 at the Law Courts, where he served till his death ; 
 no one but his benefactors and his own family 
 knowing who he was. Some time after his death 
 Davydov told me this about him. 
 
 Part of the attraction of the story for Tolstoy 
 lay In the fact that the intervention of the law did 
 no good to any one, but only harm to all con- 
 cerned; for it was part and parcel of Tolstoy's 
 non-resistant theory that Law Courts and the 
 Administration of justice are purely noxious. 
 
 The Man That Was Dead has already been 
 staged at the Artistic Theatre in Moscow, and It 
 
PREFACE 29 
 
 IS to be hoped that we shall see it in London; but 
 the last of Tolstoy's plays, The Light That Shines 
 in Darkness, was left unfinished, and is hardly 
 likely to be produced, unless by the Stage Society, 
 or some similar organisation. In Russia it is pro- 
 hibited on account of its allusions to the refusal of 
 military service. 
 
 Yet it Is in some ways the most interesting of 
 Tolstoy's posthumous works. It is obviously not 
 strictly autobiographical, for Tolstoy was not 
 assassinated as the hero of the piece is, nor was 
 his daughter engaged to be married to a young 
 prince who refused military service. But like 
 some of his other writings, the play Is semi-autobi- 
 ographical. In It, not only has Tolstoy utilised 
 personal experiences, but more than that, he 
 answers the question so often asked: Why, hold- 
 ing his views, did he not free himself from 
 property before he grew old? 
 
 Some people, and especially some of those most 
 devoted to Tolstoy's memory, are sure to suppose 
 and to declare that he intends Nicholas Ivanovlch 
 Sarlntsev to be taken as a faithful portrait of him- 
 self. But to understand Tolstoy one has to recog- 
 nise the duality of his character, which he never 
 
30 PREFACE 
 
 concealed and often mentioned; and the hero of 
 The Light That Shines in Darkness has none of 
 this duality. He represents only one side of Tol- 
 stoy, and is not at all the sort of man, for instance, 
 who would have written or enjoyed Fruits of Cul- 
 ture, 
 
 Not only are the facts different to the real ones, 
 and the character of the hero much simpler than 
 Tolstoy's own, but the problem at issue between 
 Sarlntsev and his wife is not quite the same as the 
 one at issue between Tolstoy and the Countess. 
 With that unerring artistic tact which Tolstoy 
 never lost, he causes Nicholas Ivanovich Sarintsev 
 to make a definite proposal to retain " fifty acres 
 and the kitchen garden and the flooded meadow," 
 which would " bring in about £50 a year." Now 
 what in real life most frightened the Countess, 
 was not that she was asked to accept poverty, but 
 that she was asked to manage a household in which 
 there should be no limit to the giving up. 
 
 Tolstoy held, as he says in The Demands of 
 Love, that if people begin giving up and set any 
 limits thereto, then '' life will be hell, or will be- 
 come hell, if they are not hypocrites. • . . 
 Where and how can one stop? Only those will 
 
PREFACE 31 
 
 iind a stopping-place who are strangers to the feel- 
 ing of the reality of the brotherhood of man, or 
 who are so accustomed to He that they no longer 
 notice the difference between truth and falsehood. 
 The fact is, no such stopping-place can exist. 
 . . . If you give the beggar your last shillings, 
 you will be left without bread to-morrow; but to 
 refuse means to turn from that for the sake of 
 which one lives.'* 
 
 Had that point, and the need of admitting to 
 one's cottage " the tramp with his lice and his 
 typhus," and giving away the children's last cup 
 of milk, been pressed home in the play as it was 
 in Tolstoy's teaching, some of the readers' sympa- 
 thy would go over to the side of the wife called on 
 to face such conditions for herself and her family; 
 and that is why Tolstoy's artistic instinct In- 
 duced him to Introduce a definite proposal quite 
 at variance with the demands of his own teach- 
 ing. 
 
 And again, the conflict in the play is be- 
 tween the husband on the one side and the wife 
 and family on the other. There Is no mention of 
 a friend urging the husband on In opposition to 
 the wife. Those who closely followed Tolstoy's 
 
32 PREFACE 
 
 own fate well know that on this point also the play 
 does not describe his own case. 
 
 Not the less on that account does the play most 
 touchlngly present to us the Intense tragedy of 
 Tolstoy's later years, and the Impossibility In 
 which he found himself of acting so as neither to 
 violate his own conscience nor to evoke anger In 
 the hearts of those nearest to him. His religion 
 had brought " not peace, but a sword "; and It was 
 because he believed In It so firmly, and yet shrank 
 from treating those of his own household as his 
 foes, that his struggle was so Intense, and that for 
 more than thirty years he hesitated before he de- 
 cided to leave wife and home, the scenes endeared 
 to him by childhood's memory, and the spot where 
 he hoped to be (and eventually was) burled — the 
 spot where his brother had hidden the green stick 
 on which he said was Inscribed the secret of how 
 to banish from the world all sin, bitterness, dis- 
 cord, and evil = — all, in short, that makes us sad or 
 sorry. ^ 
 
 Plays Tolstoy found more difficult to write than 
 stories or novels; for In the novel or story It Is 
 possible to stop and explain, and gradually to pre- 
 
PREFACE 33 
 
 pare an incident or develop a character, whereas 
 in a play the situations and clash of characters and 
 wills have to be presented ripe and ready. 
 Novel-writing he compared to painting, in which 
 many shades may be employed; plays he compared 
 to sculpture, where all must be clear-cut, definite, 
 and compact. 
 
 He often remarked that subjects suitable for 
 novels are not suitable for plays and vice versa; 
 and he expressed satisfaction that he had never 
 been obliged to witness the dramatised versions of 
 Resurrection or of Anna Karenina which have 
 been staged. He had nothing at all to do with 
 those productions, and quite disapproved of them. 
 
 Of his plays in general Tolstoy once remarked 
 to me: "When writing them I never anticipated 
 the importance that has been attributed to them.** 
 While he fully recognised, and perhaps at times 
 overrated, the value of his didactic and propa- 
 gandist writings, he was often inclined to under- 
 rate the value of the artistic work which during 
 his later years he sometimes undertook more or 
 less as a recreation, and on that account was the 
 more ready to treat lightly. It was mentioned 
 by the Editor in the first volume of these Posthu- 
 
34 PREFACE 
 
 mous Works of Tolstoy's, the translations were 
 chosen by an agent of the executors; and I am 
 responsible only for the novel Hadjo-Murad which 
 will appear in the third volume. 
 
 AYLMER MAUDE. 
 
THE LIGHT THAT SHINES IN 
 DARKNESS 
 
M 
 
 « 
 
DRAMATIS PERSONS 
 
 Nicholas Ivanovich Sarintsev. 
 Marie Ivanovna (Masha), his wife. 
 
 their daughters. 
 
 LuBA (LubovNicolaevna), 
 
 MiSSIE, 
 
 Stezpen, J ^^^.^ ^^^^ 
 
 Vania, J 
 
 MiTROFAN Dmitrich. Tutor to Vania. 
 
 Alexandra Ivanovna. Sister to Marie Ivan- 
 ovna. 
 
 Peter Semenovich Kokhovtsev. Her husband. 
 
 Lisa. Their daughter. 
 
 Princess Cheremshanov. 
 
 Boris. Her son. 
 
 ToNiA. Her daughter. 
 
 Father Vasily (Vasily Ermilovich). A vil- 
 lage priest. 
 
 Father Gerasim. 
 
 Alexis Mikhailovich Starkovsky. 
 
 Nurse and Footmen in Sarintsev's house. 
 
 Ivan, i 
 
 Sebastian, 
 
 Ephraim, 
 
 Peter, 
 
 A Peasant Woman. Ivan's wife. 
 
 Peasants. 
 
38 DRAMATIS PERSONS 
 
 Malashka. Ivan's daughter. 
 
 Alexander Petrovich. A tramp. 
 
 A country Police Sergeant. 
 
 Lawyer. 
 
 Yakov. Carpenter. 
 
 Clerk. 
 
 Sentries. 
 
 General. 
 
 Colonel. 
 
 Aide-de-camp. 
 
 Soldiers. 
 
 Police Officer. 
 
 Stenographer. 
 
 Chaplain. 
 
 Patients in Hospital. 
 
 Sick Officer. 
 
 Head Physician. 
 
 House Surgeon. 
 
 Warders. 
 
 Countess and other Guests at Sarlntsev*s dance. 
 
 Pianist. 
 
 m^ 
 
 m. 
 
ACT I 
 
 The stage represents a covered veranda in a rich 
 country-house. In front of the veranda are a 
 flower garden^ a tennis ground, and a croquet 
 lawn. The children with their governess are play- 
 ing croquet. On the veranda are seated: Marie 
 IVANOVNA Sarintsev, a handsome, elegant 
 woman of forty; her sister Alexandra Ivanovna 
 KOKHOVTSEV, a fat, positive, and stupid woman 
 of forty-five: and her husband, Peter Semeno- 
 VICH KoKHOVTSEV, a fat, stout, clumsy man of 
 slovenly appearance, wearing a summer suit and 
 eye-glasses. They all sit at a table laid for break- 
 fast with samovar and coffee. All are drinking, 
 coffee; Peter Semenovich is smoking. 
 
 Alexandra. 
 If you were not my sister, and Nicholas Ivano- 
 vich were not your husband, but merely an 
 acquaintance, I should find all this novel and 
 charming, and should perhaps uphold him. I 
 should have found it very nice. But when I see 
 your husband playing the fool, simply playing 
 the fool, I cannot help telling you what I think 
 of it. And I shall tell him too, that husband 
 of yours. I shall speak straight out to dear 
 Nicholas. I am not afraid of anybody. 
 
 39 
 
40 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 Marie. 
 
 I do not mind In the least: I see It myself. But 
 I really do not think It Is as Important as all that. 
 
 Alexandra. 
 
 You may not think so; but I assure you, If 
 you let It go on, you will all be beggared. That 
 is what will come of this sort of thing. . . . 
 
 Peter. 
 Beggared, Indeed I With their fortune I 
 
 Alexandra. 
 
 Yes, beggared. Don't Interrupt me. Of 
 course, you always think that anything a man does 
 Is right. 
 
 Peter. 
 
 I don't know. I only say. . . ,. 
 
 Alexandra. 
 
 You never know what you are talking about, 
 and when once you men begin your nonsense, 
 there Is no knowing where It will end. All I say 
 Is, that If I were In your place, I should not allow 
 it. I should have put a stop to all this. I never 
 heard of such a thing. The husband, the head 
 of the family, does nothing, neglects his affairs, 
 gives everything away, and plays the bountiful 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 41 
 
 right and left. I know how It will end. I know 
 all about It. 
 
 Peter. 
 {to Marie Ivanovna.) Do explain to me, 
 Marie, what this new fad of his Is. There are 
 Liberals, County Councils, the Constitution 
 Schools, reading-rooms and all the rest of It — I 
 understand all that. Then there are Socialists, 
 strikes, an eight-hour day — I understand that too. 
 But what Is all this ? Do explain. 
 
 Marie. 
 He told you all about It yesterday. 
 
 Peter. 
 I own that I could not understand. The Gos- 
 pel, the Sermon on the Mount, that churches are 
 unnecessary. But where are we to pray, and all 
 that? 
 
 Marie. 
 That Is the worst of It. He would destroy 
 everything and put nothing In Its place. 
 
 Peter. 
 How did it begin? 
 
 Marie. 
 It began last year, when his sister died. He 
 became very gloomy, perpetually spoke of death, 
 
42 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 and then fell ill, as you know. And after his 
 typhoid fever he changed entirely. 
 
 Alexandra. 
 Still he came to see us in Moscow in the spring, 
 and he was very amiable and played cards. He 
 was very nice and quite normal. 
 
 Marie. 
 Yes, but he was not the same. 
 
 Peter. 
 In what way? 
 
 Marie. 
 He was perfectly indifferent to his family, and 
 the New Testament had become an obsession. 
 He read it all day; at night he got up to read 
 it instead of sleeping, making notes and copying 
 out passages. Then he began to visit bishops and 
 aged monks, to discuss religion. 
 
 Alexandra. 
 
 Did he go to confession and take the sacra- 
 ment? 
 
 Marie. 
 
 Before that he had not done so since his mar- 
 riage, that is for twenty-five years. But at the 
 time I am speaking of he confessed and took com- 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 43 
 
 munlon at the monastery, and immediately after- 
 ward decided it was unnecessary to confess, or 
 even to go to church at all. 
 
 Alexandra. 
 
 You see how inconsistent he is. A month ago 
 he went to church and kept all the fasts ; now sud- 
 denly he thinks all that is useless. 
 
 Marie. 
 
 Well, talk to him yourself. 
 
 Alexandra. 
 
 I .will; indeed I will. 
 
 Peter. 
 
 All that does not matter much. 
 
 Alexandra. 
 
 It seems to you that it does not matter, because 
 men have no religion. 
 
 Peter. 
 
 Do let me speak. I say that that is not the 
 point. If he denies the Church, where does the 
 New Testament come in? 
 
 Marie. 
 He says we are to live in accordance with the 
 Sermon on the Mount, and give everything away. 
 
44 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 Peter. 
 
 How are we to live ourselves if we give every- 
 thing away? 
 
 Alexandra. 
 
 And where does the Sermon on the Mount 
 order us to shake hands with our footmen? It 
 says " blessed are the meek," but there is not a 
 word about shaking hands. 
 
 Marie. 
 
 Of course he is fanatical in this, as he always 
 is when he takes up anything. At one time it 
 was music, then schools. . . . But that does 
 not make it any easier for me. 
 
 PETEiR. 
 
 Why has he gone to town? 
 Marie. 
 
 He did not tell me, but I know he has gone 
 to attend the hearing of the timber-stealing case. 
 The peasants cut down some of our forest. 
 
 Peter. 
 Those big fir-trees ? 
 
 Marie. 
 Yes. They were condemned to pay for them, 
 and sentenced to imprisonment, and their appeal 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 45 
 
 IS to be heard to-day. I am sure that Is why he 
 went. 
 
 Alexandra. 
 He will forgive them, and to-morrow they will 
 come and chop down all the trees In his park. 
 
 Marie. 
 They seem to be beginning already. All the 
 apple trees are broken, and the fields trampled. 
 He forgives It all. 
 
 Peter. 
 How extraordinary! 
 
 Alexandra. 
 That Is exactly why I say that you must Inter- 
 fere. If It continues much longer — everything 
 win go. I think It Is your duty as a mother to 
 take some steps. 
 
 Marie. 
 What can I do? 
 
 Alexandra. 
 
 What can you do. Indeed? Put a stop to It, 
 make him understand that It Is Impossible. You 
 have children. What an example to set them I 
 
 Marie. 
 It Is hard, but I try to bear It, and to hope that 
 
46 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 this will pass as all his other infatuations have 
 done. 
 
 Alexandra. 
 Yes ; but God helps those who help themselves. 
 You must make him feel that he Is not alone, and 
 that he Is not living In the proper way. 
 
 Marie. 
 
 The worst of It all Is that he takes no interest 
 in the children. I have to settle everything by 
 myself. On the one hand I have a baby, and on 
 the other, grown-up children — a girl and a boy 
 ' — who both need attention and guidance, and I am 
 alone. He used to be such a careful and tender 
 father. Now he does not care about anything. 
 Last night I told him Vania was lazy and had 
 failed again In his examinations, and he said it 
 would be much better for him to leave school 
 altogether. 
 
 Peter. 
 
 Where would he send him? 
 
 Marie. 
 Nowhere. That is the horrible part of it. 
 Everything is wrong, but he does not say what we 
 are to do. 
 
 Peter. 
 How strange ! 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 47 
 
 Alexandra. 
 Not at all strange. It is just the usual way you 
 men have of finding fault with everything and do- 
 ing nothing yourselves. 
 
 Marie. 
 
 Stephen has finished his studies and must decide 
 what he is going to do, but his father will not say 
 anything to him about it. He wanted to enter 
 the Civil Service — his father said it was useless ; 
 he wanted to enter the Horse Guards — Nicholas 
 Ivanovich disapproved. The boy asked what he 
 was to do, and his father asked why he did not 
 go and plough : that would be far better than the 
 Civil Service. What is he to do? He comes to 
 me for advice, and I have to decide. But the 
 means of carrying out any plan are in his father's 
 hands. 
 
 Alexandra. 
 
 You ought to tell Nicholas so plainly. 
 
 Marie. 
 Yes ; I must talk to him. 
 
 Alexandra. 
 Tell him plainly that you cannot stand it: that 
 you do your duty and that he must do his. 
 Otherwise, he had better make the property over 
 to you. 
 
48 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 Marie. 
 Oh 1 that IS so unpleasant. 
 
 Alexandra. 
 I will tell him, if you like. I will tell him so 
 straight out. 
 
 (A young priest enters, somewhat 
 shy and nervous. He carries a hook 
 and shakes hands with all present.) 
 
 Father Vasily. 
 I have come to see Nicholas Ivanovich. IVe 
 *— IVe brought back a book. 
 
 Marie. 
 He has gone to town, but he will soon return. 
 
 Alexandra. 
 What book did he lend you? 
 
 Father Vasily. 
 It IS Renan — ^yes — a book' — the Life of 
 Jesus. 
 
 Peter. 
 Oh I what a book for you to read. 
 
 Alexandra. 
 {contemptuously.) Did Nicholas Ivanovich give 
 you that to read? Well, do you agree with 
 Nicholas Ivanovich, and with Monsieur Renan? 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 49 
 
 Father Vasily. 
 (excited, lighting a cigarette,^ Yes, Nicholas 
 Ivanovich gave it to me to read. Of course I do 
 not agree with it. If I did I should not be, so to 
 speak, a servant of the Church. 
 Alexandra. 
 And since you are, so to speak, a true servant 
 of the Church, why don't you convert Nicholas 
 Ivanovich ? 
 
 Father Vastly. 
 Everybody, if I may say so, has his own views 
 on these subjects. And Nicholas Ivanovich, if I 
 may say so, says much that is true. But on the 
 main point he is In error concerning er -. — er — er 
 — the Church. 
 
 Alexandra. 
 And what are the true things that Nicholas 
 Ivanovich says? Is it true that the Sermon on 
 the Mount bids us give away our possessions to 
 strangers, and let our family be beggars? 
 
 Father Vasily. 
 The family Is, so to speak, held sacred in the 
 Church, and the fathers of the Church have be- 
 stowed their blessing on the family, haven't they? 
 But the highest perfection requires — well, yes, 
 requires renunciation of earthly goods. 
 
so THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 Alexandra. 
 That is all very well for saints, but ordinary 
 mortals ought simply to act hke good Christians. 
 
 Father Vasily. 
 Nobody can tell what he was sent to earth for. 
 
 Alexandra. 
 You are married, I suppose? 
 
 Father Vasily. 
 Certainly. 
 
 Alexandra. 
 And have you got any children? 
 
 Father Vasily. 
 Yes, two. 
 
 Alexandra. 
 Then why don't you renounce earthly joys in- 
 stead of smoking cigarettes? 
 
 Father Vasily. 
 It Is, I may say, owing to my weakness and my 
 unworthiness that I do not. 
 
 Alexandra. 
 It seems to me that instead of bringing Nicholas 
 Ivanovich to his senses, you are upholding him. 
 I tell you frankly it is not right. 
 
 (Enter Nurse.) 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 51 
 
 Nurse. 
 Don't you hear baby crying? Please come to 
 him. 
 
 Marie. 
 Tm coming '^ — I'm coming. (Exit,) 
 
 Alexandra. 
 I am so sorry for my sister. I see how she 
 suffers. It is no easy matter to manage a house- 
 hold — seven children, and one of them a baby at 
 the breast. And he with his new-fangled theories 
 ^ — I really think he is not quite right here (points 
 to her head.) Now tell me truly, what is this 
 new religion you have discovered? 
 
 Father Vasily. 
 I don't quite understand, if I may say so. 
 
 Alexandra. 
 Please do not pretend you do not understand. 
 (You know perfectly well what I am asking. 
 
 Father Vasily. 
 But, pardon me — 
 
 Alexandra. 
 I ask you what this creed is, according to which 
 you must shake hands with all peasants, allow 
 them to cut down your forest, give them money 
 for drink, and forsake your own family. 
 
S2 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 Father Vasily. 
 I do not know. 
 
 Alexandra. 
 He says it is the Christian teaching. iYou are a 
 priest of the Orthodox Church. Therefore, you 
 ought to know and ought to say whether the 
 Christian teaching encourages stealing. 
 
 Father Vasily. 
 ButI — 
 
 Alexandra. 
 Otherwise, why do you call yourself a priest, 
 and wear long hair and a cassock? 
 
 Father Vasily. 
 But we are never asked such things. 
 
 Alexandra. 
 Really? Well I ask you? Yesterday Nicholas 
 Ivanovich said the Gospel command is : " Give to 
 every man that asks.'* How is that to be inter- 
 preted? 
 
 Father Vasily. 
 I think in the simplest sense. 
 
 Alexandra. 
 I do not think so at all. I think it means, as 
 we were always taught, that everybody has what 
 God has given him. 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 53 
 
 Father Vasily. 
 Of course, but still — 
 
 Alexandra. 
 It IS quite evident that you are on his side. I 
 was told you were; and it is very wrong of you, I 
 tell you quite frankly. If it were some school- 
 mistress, or some boy who accepted his every word 
 — but you, in your position, ought to understand 
 what your responsibilities are. 
 
 Father Vasily. 
 I try to. 
 
 Alexandra. 
 How can he be called religious when he does 
 not go to church, and does not recognise the sacra- 
 ments? And you, instead of bringing him to 
 reason, read Renan with him, and interpret the 
 Gospel as you like. 
 
 Father Vasily. 
 (agitated.) I cannot answer. I am — I am^— * 
 amazed, and would rather not say anything. 
 
 Alexandra. 
 Oh I if I were a bishop I would teach you to read 
 Renan and smoke cigarettes. 
 
 Peter. 
 Stop, for Heaven's sake I By what right — ? 
 
54 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 Alexandra. 
 Please don't lecture me. I am sure Father 
 VasIIy does not mind. Well, I have said all I had 
 to say. It would be much worse if I had any ill- 
 feeling. Is not that so ? 
 
 Father Vasily. 
 Pardon me if I have expressed myself badly — 
 pardon me. (Awkward silence.) 
 
 (Enter LuBA and LiSA.) 
 (LuBA, the daughter of Marie 
 IVANOVNA, is a pretty, energetic girl 
 of twenty, Lisa, the daughter of 
 Alexandra Ivanovna, is older. 
 Both wear shawls oti their heads, and 
 carry baskets — they are going mush- 
 rooming in the woods. They greet 
 Alexandra Ivanovna, Peter Se- 
 MENOVICH, and the priest,) 
 
 LUBA. 
 
 Where is mother? 
 
 Alexandra. 
 She has just gone to nurse the baby. 
 
 Peter. 
 Mind you bring back plenty of mushrooms, 
 A village girl brought some beauties this morning. 
 I would go with you, but it is so hot. 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS S5 
 
 Lisa. 
 Do come, father. 
 
 Alexandra. 
 lYes, do go. You are getting too fat. 
 
 Peter. 
 iVery well. But I must get some cigarettes. 
 
 (Exit,) 
 
 Alexandra. 
 Where are all the other young people ? 
 
 LUBA. 
 Stephen has gone to the station on his bicycle; 
 Metrofan Alexandrovich has gone to town with 
 father; the little ones are playing croquet; and 
 Vania is romping with the dogs In the porch. 
 
 Alexandra. 
 Has Stephen come to any decision? 
 
 LUBA. 
 
 Yes, he is going to enlist as a volunteer. He 
 was horribly rude to father yesterday. 
 
 Alexandra. 
 Well, he has a good deal to bear. Even a 
 worm will turn. The boy wants to begin life, and 
 he is told to go and plough. 
 
S6 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 LUBA. 
 
 Father did not say that. He said . . . 
 
 Alexandra. 
 
 It makes no difference. The boy must make a 
 start, and whatever he proposes Is found fault 
 with. Oh, there he is I 
 
 {Enter Stephen on bicycle,) 
 
 Alexandra. 
 
 Talk of an angel and you hear his wings. We 
 were just speaking of you. Luba says that you 
 did not speak nicely to your father yesterday. 
 
 Stephen. 
 
 Not at all. Nothing particular happened. He 
 expressed his opinion, and I expressed mine. It 
 is not my fault if our views do not agree. Luba; 
 understands nothing, and is always ready to critic 
 else. 
 
 Alexandra. 
 
 What did you decide? 
 
 Stephen. 
 
 I don't know what father decided. I'm afraid 
 he does not know himself; but I have made up my 
 mind to join the Horse Guards as a volunteer. 
 It is only In our house that difficulties are raised 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 57 
 
 about everything. It is quite simple. I have 
 finished my studies ; I have got to do my military 
 service. It would be unpleasant to serve In the 
 army with coarse, drunken officers, so I shall join 
 the Guards, where I have friends. 
 
 Alexandra. 
 Why did your father object? 
 
 Stephen. 
 Father? Oh, what's the good of talking about 
 him. He is Infatuated with his idee fixe, and sees 
 only what he wants to see. He says that the 
 military Is the most dastardly of all the services, 
 therefore I ought not to serve, and therefore he 
 gives me no money. 
 
 Lisa. 
 
 No, Stephen, that was not what he said. I was 
 there. He said that If It Is Impossible to get out 
 of it, one should at least wait till one Is called as 
 a recruit, but that to volunteer is to choose that 
 service oneself. 
 
 Stephen. 
 It is I, not he, who will serve. He was an 
 officer himself. 
 
 Lisa. 
 He did not say that he would not give you 
 
58 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 money, but that he could not participate in a 
 matter that was contrary to all his principles. 
 
 Stephen. 
 
 Principles have nothing to do with it. I've got 
 to serve, and there's an end of it. 
 
 Lisa. 
 
 I only said what I heard. 
 Stephen. 
 
 I know. You agree with father in everything. 
 Auntie, did you know that? Lisa is always on 
 father's side. 
 
 Lisa. 
 When It is a question of justice. 
 
 Alexandra. 
 
 Oh, I know Lisa is always on the side of non- 
 sense. She has a knack of finding it. She scents 
 it from afar. 
 
 (Enter Vania. He runs on to 
 the veranda in a red blouse, accom- 
 panied by the dogs, with a telegram 
 in his hand.) 
 
 Vania. 
 {to LuBA.) Guess who is coming! 
 
 ■m 
 
I SHINES IN DARKNESS 59 
 
 LUBA. 
 
 Why should I guess? Give me the telegram. 
 (Stretches out her hand for it, Vania holds it 
 out of her reach,) 
 
 Vania. 
 I won't give It to you, and I won't tell you. It 
 [is some one who will make you blush. 
 
 LUBA. 
 
 Nonsense! Who is it from? 
 
 Vania. 
 Aha! You are blushing, you are! Aunt 
 Aline, isn't it true that she's blushing? 
 
 LuBA. 
 What nonsense I Aunt Aline, who is it from ? 
 
 Alexandra. 
 The Cheremshanovs. 
 
 LUBA. 
 
 Ohf 
 
 Vania. 
 I "Ohl" indeed. Why are you blushing? 
 
 LUBA. 
 
 Auntie, show me the telegram. (Reads.) 
 "Arrive by mail train; all three. — Cheremsha- 
 
6o THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 novs." That means the princess, Boris, and 
 Tonla. Well, I am very glad. 
 
 Vania. 
 
 Of course you are very glad. Stephen, see 
 how she's blushing. 
 
 Stephen. 
 
 Oh, drop It. You keep on saying the same 
 thing over and over again. 
 
 Vania. 
 
 You say that because youVe a bit smitten by 
 Tonia yourself. You'll have to draw lots, be- 
 cause sister and brother may not marry brother 
 and sister. 
 
 Stephen. 
 
 Don't talk such rubbish. You'd better be 
 careful. I've warned you several times. 
 
 Lisa. 
 
 If they come by the mail train they ought to 
 be here directly. 
 
 Luba. 
 
 That's true. Then we had better not go out. 
 {Enter Peter Semenovich with 
 cigarettes.) 
 
t 
 
 SHINES IN DARKNESS 6i 
 
 LUBA. 
 
 Uncle Peter, we are not going. 
 
 Peter. 
 Why? 
 
 LUBA. 
 
 The Cheremshanovs will be here directly. We 
 had better have one set at tennis before they ar- 
 rive. Stephen, will you play? 
 
 Stephen. 
 
 All right. 
 
 LUBA. 
 
 Vania and I against you and Lisa. Agreed? 
 Well, then, I'll go and get the balls and call the 
 village children. (Exit,) 
 
 Peter. 
 So much for my walk. 
 
 Father Vasily. 
 (rising to go,) Good-bye. 
 
 Alexandra. 
 
 Oh, wait a little, Father Vasily. I want to 
 talk to you, and Nicholas Ivanovich will soon be 
 here. 
 
62 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 Father Vasily. 
 
 (sits down and lights another cigarette.) He 
 may be some time yet. 
 
 Alexandra. 
 A carriage has just driven up; I expect it is 
 he. 
 
 Peter. 
 Which Princess Cheremshanov is It? Is it 
 possible that her maiden name was Golitsine? 
 
 Alexandra. 
 Yes, yes, that nice Princess Cheremshanov who 
 lived in Rome with her aunt. 
 
 Peter. 
 I shall be glad to see her. I have not seen her 
 since the time when we used to sing duets to- 
 gether In Rome. She sang very well. She has 
 two children, I believe. 
 
 Alexandra. 
 Yes, and they are both coming with her. 
 
 Peter. 
 I did not know they were so intimate with the 
 Sarlntsevs. 
 
 Alexandra. 
 They are not Intimate; but they were abroad 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 63 
 
 together last year, and I believe that the princess 
 has designs on Luba for her son. She knows a 
 thing or two. 
 
 Peter. 
 The Cheremsh^novs were rich themselves. 
 
 ll Alexandra. 
 
 They were. The prince is still alive, but he 
 has dissipated his fortune, and has taken to drink. 
 She petitioned the Tsar, saved a few crumbs, and 
 left him. But she brought up her children splen- 
 didly. The daughter Is an excellent musician, 
 and the son went through the university, and Is 
 very nice. Still I do not think Masha Is par- 
 ticularly pleased. This is not a time for guests. 
 Ah, there is Nicholas. 
 
 {Enter Nicholas Ivanovich.) 
 
 Nicholas. 
 
 Good morning. Aline. Hallo! Peter Seme- 
 nov. {To the priest.) How do you do, Vaslly 
 Ermllovlch. {He shakes hands.) 
 
 Alexandra. 
 
 There is some coffee here. Shall I pour it out? 
 It Is not very hot, but It can be warmed up. {She 
 rings.) 
 
64 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 Nicholas. 
 No, thank you. I have had breakfast. 
 Where is Masha? 
 
 Alexandra. 
 She is nursing the baby. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 Is she well? 
 
 Alexandra. 
 
 Pretty well. Have you done all your busi- 
 ness? 
 
 Nicholas. 
 
 Yes. I think I will have some tea or some 
 coffee if there is any. {To the priest.) Have 
 you brought the book? Have you read it? I 
 have been thinking about you all the way. 
 
 {Enter footman; bows. NICHO- 
 LAS shakes hands with him,) 
 
 Alexandra. 
 
 (shrugging her shoulders, and exchanging glances 
 with her husband.) Heat up the samovar, 
 please. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 
 Never mind, Aline. I do not want anything, 
 and if I do, I can drink it as it is. 
 
I SHINES IN DARKNESS 6s 
 
 MiSSIE. 
 '{seeing her father, runs from the croquet ground, 
 and clasps her arms around his neck.) Father, 
 come along. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 {fondling her.) Directly, directly. Let me 
 have something to drink. Go and play. I will 
 come soon. {Sits down at the table, drinks tea, 
 and eats.) 
 
 Alexandra. 
 Were they found guilty? 
 
 Nicholas. 
 Yes. They pleaded guilty. {To the priest.) 
 I imagine Renan did not convince you. 
 
 Alexandra. 
 
 But you disagreed with the verdict? 
 
 Nicholas. 
 
 {annoyed.) Of course I did. {To priest.) 
 The main question for you lies, not In the divinity 
 I of Christ, not In the history of Christianity, but In 
 the Church . . . 
 
 Alexandra. 
 
 How was that? They confessed themselves: 
 you gave them the He. They were not stealing, 
 only taking . . . 
 
66 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 Nicholas. 
 {begins speaking to the priest, then turning decid- 
 edly to Alexandra Ivanovna.) My dear 
 Aline, do not worry me with innuendos and pin- 
 pricks. 
 
 Alexandra. 
 I am not doing anything of the sort. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 If you really want to know why I cannot 
 prosecute the peasants for cutting down some 
 trees which they badly needed. . . • 
 
 Alexandra. 
 I dare say they need this samovar also. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 Well, if you want me to tell you why I cannot 
 allow men to be imprisoned for felling ten trees 
 in a wood that is considered mine. . . , 
 
 Alexandra. 
 Considered so by every one. 
 
 Peter. 
 There you are, arguing again. I shall go out 
 with the dogs. (He leaves the veranda.) 
 
 Nicholas. 
 Even supposing I were to consider that wood 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 67 
 
 mine — though that is impossible — we have 
 2,250 acres of forest, with approximately 200 
 trees on each — I think that makes about 450,000 
 in all. They felled 10 — that is ^~-q part. 
 Well, is it worth while, is it possible, to drag a 
 man away from his family and put him in prison 
 for such a thing? 
 
 Stephen. 
 Well, if you don't prosecute for this ^g^'^^ part, 
 the rest of the 45,000 will also soon be felled. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 I only gave that answer in reply to your aunt. 
 In reality, I have no right to this forest. The 
 land belongs to all — that is, to no individual — 
 and we personally have never done a stroke of 
 Work on it. 
 
 Stephen. 
 Oh, no ! You saved up, and you looked after 
 the land. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 How did I get enough to save up, and when 
 did I ever look after the forest myself? But 
 there ! you can't prove such things to a man who 
 feels no shame in injuring others. 
 
 Stephen. 
 No one is injuring others. 
 
68 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 Nicholas. 
 
 If he IS not ashamed of being Idle — of living 
 on the labour of others — it cannot be proved, 
 and dl the political economy you learnt at the 
 university only serves to justify your position. 
 
 Stephen. 
 On the contrary, science destroys all prejudices. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 
 Well, that does not matter. What does matter 
 to me is the fact that if I were in Ephim's place, 
 I should do just what he did; and having done It 
 I should be In despair if I were imprisoned, and 
 therefore, since I would do unto others as I would 
 be done by^ I cannot prosecute him, and must do 
 my best to get him off. 
 
 Peter. 
 But, in that case, it Is not possible to 
 own anything. 
 
 V, Alexandra. 
 
 'S Then It Is much more profitable to steal 
 ^ than to work. 
 
 Stephen. 
 You never answer one's arguments. I 
 say that he who economises has a right to 
 use his savings. 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 69 
 
 Nicholas. 
 (smiling.) I do not know which of you to 
 answer, (to Peter.) It Is not possible to own 
 anything. ^ 
 
 Alexandra. 
 If that IS so, one cannot have clothes or a crust 
 of bread. One must give up everything, and life 
 becomes Impossible. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 It IS Impossible to live as we live. 
 
 Stephen. 
 Then we must die. Therefore that teaching Is 
 no good for life. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 On the contrary, It Is given only for life. Yes, 
 we must relinquish everything — not only a for- 
 est by which we profit, though we have never 
 seen it, but we should give up our clothes and our 
 bread even. 
 
 Alexandra. 
 And the children's bread also? 
 
 Nicholas. 
 Yes, the children's also — and not bread only 
 — we must give up ourselves. That Is the whole 
 teaching of Christ. We must use all our efforts 
 to give up ourselves. 
 
70 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 Stephen. 
 To die, therefore? 
 
 Nicholas. 
 Yes, if you die for others It would be good 
 both for yourself and for others ; but the fact re- 
 mains that man is not simply a spirit, but a spirit 
 In the flesh; and the flesh impels us to live for 
 self, while the enlightened spirit urges us to live 
 for God, for others; and the result of this con- 
 flict makes us take a middle course. The nearer 
 we attain to God the better. Therefore the more 
 we try to live for God the better. The flesh will 
 make sufficient efforts on its own account. 
 
 Stephen. 
 Why take a middle course? If such a life Is 
 best, then one should give up everything and die. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 It would be splendid. Try to do It, and you 
 will find it good for you as well as for others. 
 
 Alexandra. 
 No, all this Is neither clear nor simple. If Is 
 dragged In by the hair. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 What am I to do? I cannot make you under- 
 stand. Enough of this I 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 71 
 
 Stephen. 
 Enough, indeed! I do not understand. 
 (Exit.) 
 
 Nicholas. 
 
 {to the priest.) Well, what did you think of the 
 book? 
 
 Father Vasily. 
 (agitated.) I hardly know what to say. The 
 historical side is sufficiently studied, but it is hardly 
 convincingly or satisfactorily proved — perhaps 
 because the data are insufficient. You cannot 
 prove the divinity or non-divinity of Christ his- 
 torically. There Is only one unanswerable 
 proof. . . . 
 
 (During the conversation all, one 
 after the other, leave the room* — * 
 ■first the ladies, then Stephen, and 
 finally Peter Semenovich, leaving 
 the priest and Nicholas alone.) 
 
 Nicholas. 
 You mean the Church ? 
 
 Father Vasily. 
 Yes, of course, the Church; the testimony of 
 men — well, of truly holy men, shall we say? 
 
 Nicholas. 
 It would certainly be excellent if such an Infal- 
 lible authority existed which we could trust, and 
 
72 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 It IS desirable that it should exist. But Its de- 
 sirability is no proof that it does exist. 
 
 Father Vasily. 
 
 I contend that it does prove it. God could not, 
 as It were, let His law be distorted, be badly in- 
 terpreted ; and He had to institute a — well — a 
 custodian of His truths. He had to, hadn't He, 
 to prevent the distortion of these truths? 
 
 Nicholas. 
 
 Very well; but you set out to prove the truths 
 themselves, and now you are proving the truth of 
 the custodians. 
 
 Father Vasily. 
 
 Well, in regard to that, we must, so to speak, 
 believe. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 
 Believe? We cannot live without belief. We 
 must believe, but not what others tell us; only 
 what we are led to by the course of our own 
 thoughts, our own reason . . . the belief in 
 God, in the true life everlasting. 
 
 Father Vasily. 
 
 Reason may deceive you — each man has his 
 own — 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 73 
 
 Nicholas. 
 (warmly,) That is horrible blasphemy! God 
 has given us one holy instrument by which to 
 know the truth — one that can unite us all, and 
 we distrust it! 
 
 I Father Vasily. 
 
 But how can we trust it when there Is so much 
 difference of opinion — isn't there ? 
 
 Nicholas. 
 Where Is there any difference of opinion as to 
 two and two making four; as to our not doing to 
 others whart we do not wish to be done to our- 
 selves; as to there being a cause for everything; 
 and such truths as these? We all recognise these 
 truths because they are In accordance with our 
 reason. As to such questions as what God re- 
 vealed to Moses on Mount Sinai, whether or not 
 Buddha flew away on a sunbeam, or whether Mo- 
 hammed and Christ flew up to heaven — and 
 things of that sort — we all disagree. 
 
 Father Vasily. 
 No, we do not all disagree. All who have the 
 truth are united in one faith In the God Christ. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 You are not united then because you all differ, 
 
74 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 so why should I believe you rather than a Bud- 
 dhist lama? Simply because I happened to be 
 born in your faith? 
 
 (Sounds of dispute from the tert' 
 nis-court. '' Out.'' " No, it was 
 notr ''I saw it J' 
 
 During the conversation the FooT- 
 MAN rearranges the table, bringing in 
 fresh tea and coffee.) 
 
 Nicholas. 
 
 {continuing.) You say the Church gives union. 
 But, on the contrary, the worst differences were 
 always caused by the Church. " How often 
 would I have gathered Thy children together, 
 even as a hen gathereth her chickens under her 
 wings." 
 
 Father Vasily. 
 It was so before Christ. Christ united all. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 
 Christ united us all, but we became disunited 
 because we understood Him wrongly. He de- 
 stroyed all Churches. 
 
 Father Vasily. 
 Then what does " tell the Church " mean? 
 
|| SHINES IN DARKNESS 75 
 
 Nicholas. 
 It IS not a question of words, nor do these 
 words apply to the Church. The whole thing is 
 the spirit of the teaching. Christ's teaching is 
 universal, and contains all beliefs, and does not 
 contain anything that is exclusive — - neither the 
 resurrection, nor the divinity of Christ, nor the 
 sacraments — indeed, nothing that can disunite. 
 
 Father Vastly. 
 Well, that IS your interpretation of the Chris- 
 tian teaching; but the Christian teaching is en- 
 tirely founded on the divinity of Christ and His 
 resurrection. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 That is why Churches are so horrible. They 
 disunite by declaring that they possess the full, 
 certain, and infallible truth — " filling us with the 
 Holy Ghost." It began with the first meeting of 
 the apostles. From that moment they began to 
 affirm that they were possessed of full and exclu' 
 sive truth. Why, if I say that there is a God, 
 that the world began, all will agree with me, and 
 this recognition of God will unite us; but if I say 
 there Is a god Brahma, or a Jewish god, or a 
 Trinity — such a divinity disunites. Men want 
 to unite and invent a means to that end, but they 
 disregard the only certain means of union — an 
 
76 THE LIGHT THAT | 
 
 aspiration after truth. It is as If In a great build- 
 ing, where the light falls from the roof on to the 
 middle of the floor, men were to stand in groups 
 in the corners Instead of going into the light. If. 
 they went Into the light they would, without think- 
 ing about It, be united. 
 
 Father Vasily. 
 
 But how would you guide the people without 
 having, so to speak, a fixed truth ? 
 
 Nicholas. 
 That Is the horror of it. Each of us has his 
 own soul to save, has God's work to do, and we 
 are all anxious about saving and teaching others. 
 And what do we teach them? It Is simply hor- 
 rible to think that at the end of the nineteenth 
 century we are teaching that God created the 
 world in six days, then sent a flood, putting all the 
 animals into the Ark, and all the absurd nonsense 
 of the Old Testament; and then that Christ or- 
 dered us to be baptised in water, or the absurdity 
 of the redemption without which you cannot be 
 saved; then that Christ flew away to skies which 
 do not exist, and there sits at the right hand of 
 God the Father. We are accustomed to all this, 
 but really It is terrible. A pure child, open to 
 good and truth, asks us what the world is, what its 
 law is, and instead of teaching him the love and 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 77 
 
 truth which we have believed, we carefully stuff 
 his head with all sorts of dreadful, absurd lies 
 and horrors, ascribing them all to God. This Is 
 awful. It IS a crime that nothing can surpass. 
 And we, and you with your Church, do all this. 
 Forgive me. 
 
 Father Vasily. 
 Yes, if you look at Christ's teaching In that 
 way —   rationally, so to speak ^^ — then It Is so. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 It Is the same, no matter In what way you look 
 at it. 
 
 (Silence. The Priest takes leave 
 of him. Enter Alexandra Ivan- 
 
 OVNA.) 
 
 Alexandra. 
 Good-bye, Father Yaslly. Do not listen to 
 him ; he will lead you astray. 
 
 Father Vasily. 
 Oh no ! One must put the Gospel to the test. 
 It is too important a matter to be neglected, isn't 
 It? 
 
 {Exit.) 
 
 Alexandra. 
 Really, Nicholas, you have no pity on him. 
 Though he Is a priest, he is little more than a 
 
178 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 boy. He cannot have settled convictions ; he can- 
 not be steadfast. . . , 
 
 Nicholas. 
 Are we to let him become confirmed in them, 
 to harden In deceit? Why should we? Ah, he 
 is a good, sincere man. 
 
 Alexandra. 
 Well, what would happen to him were he to 
 believe you? 
 
 Nicholas. 
 It is not a question of believing me; but if he 
 could see the truth it would be well for him and 
 for every one. 
 
 Alexandra. 
 If It were really well, all would believe you. 
 As It Is, we see just the contrary. No one be- 
 lieves you — your wife least of all. She cannot 
 believe you. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 Who told you so? 
 
 Alexandra. 
 Well, explain all this to Masha. She never 
 understood and never will, and no one in the 
 world ever will, understand why you should take 
 care of strangers and neglect your own children. 
 Explain that to Masha. 
 
I SHINES IN DARKNESS 79 
 
 Nicholas. 
 Masha is sure to understand. Forgive me, 
 Aline, but if it were not for outside influences, to 
 which she is so susceptible, she would understand 
 me and go hand-in-hand with me. 
 
 Alexandra. 
 To deprive her own children for the drunken 
 Ephim and Co.? Never. As for your being 
 angry with me, you will excuse me, but I cannot 
 help speaking. ... 
 
 Nicholas. 
 I am not angry. On the contrary, I am very 
 glad that you said all you had to say, and gave 
 me the opportunity of giving all my own views. 
 I thought it over on my way to-day, and I am go- 
 ing to tell her at once, and you will see that she 
 will agree, for she is both wise and good. 
 
 Alexandra. 
 You will allow me to have my doubts. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 Well, I have none. This is no invention of 
 mine: it is what we all know, and what Christ 
 revealed to us. 
 
 Alexandra. 
 You think He revealed this? I think He 
 revealed something quite different. 
 
8o THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 Nicholas. 
 There can be nothing different. Just listen. 
 Do not argue; listen to me. 
 
 Alexandra. 
 I am listening. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 You admit that at any minute we may die and 
 return to nothingness or to God, who demands 
 that we should live according to His will. 
 
 Alexandra. 
 Well? 
 
 Nicholas. 
 Well, what else am I to do in this life but that 
 which the highest Judge that is in my soul — my 
 conscience, God — demands ? My conscience, 
 God, demands that I should consider all men 
 equal, should love and serve all. 
 
 Alexandra. 
 Your children among the rest. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 Of course; but I must do everything my con- 
 science dictates. The most important thing of all 
 is to recognise that my life does not belong to me, 
 nor yours to you, but to God, who sent us and 
 requires us to live according to His will. And 
 His will ... 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 8i 
 
 Alexandra. 
 And you will convince Masha of this? 
 
 Nicholas. 
 Certainly. 
 
 Alexandra. 
 She will cease to educate her children as she 
 should and will desert them? Never. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 Not only she; you too will understand that that 
 Is the only thing to do. 
 
 Alexandra. 
 Never I 
 
 {Enter Marie Ivanovna.)" 
 
 Nicholas. 
 Well, Masha, I hope I did not wake you up 
 this morning. 
 
 Marie. 
 No, I was not asleep. Did you have a pleasant 
 journey? 
 
 Nicholas. 
 Yes, very pleasant. 
 
 Marie. 
 Why are you drinking that cold tea ? Anyhow, 
 we must have some fresh made for our guests. 
 You know that Princess Cheremshanova is com- 
 ing with her son and daughter. 
 
82 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 Nicholas. 
 If you are pleased, so am L 
 
 Marie. 
 
 Yes. I am very fond of her and of her chil- 
 dren, but it is hardly the moment for visitors. 
 
 Alexandra. 
 
 Well, have a talk with him, and I will go and 
 watch the game. 
 
 {A silence, after which Marie 
 IvANovNA and Nicholas Ivano- 
 yiCH both speak at once,) 
 
 Marie. 
 It is hardly the moment, because we must 
 talk things over. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 I was just telling Aline. . s » 
 
 Marie. 
 What? 
 
 Nicholas. 
 No ; you speak. 
 
 Marie. 
 
 Well, I wanted to talk to you about Stephen. 
 Something must be decided. The poor boy is in 
 
 o 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 83 
 
 suspense, does not know what is going to happen, 
 and comes to me; but how can I decide? 
 
 Nicholas. 
 
 How can any one decide? He can decide for 
 himself. 
 
 Marie. 
 
 Why, you know he wants to enter the Guards 
 as a volunteer, and he cannot do it without a cer- 
 tificate from you, and he must have money, and 
 you give him nothing (agitated.) 
 
 Nicholas. 
 
 Masha, for heaven's sake do not get agitated, 
 and listen to me. I neither give nor refuse. To 
 enter the military service voluntarily I consider 
 foolish madness, such as only a savage is capable 
 of. If he does not understand the meanness, the 
 baseness of such an action, or if he does it out of 
 self-interest — 
 
 Marie. 
 
 Oh, everything seems mad and foolish to you 
 now. He wants to live — you have lived. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 
 (hotly,) I lived without understanding, with no 
 one to tell me. But it depends on him now — 
 not on me. 
 
84 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 Marie. 
 But it does depend on you, when you give him 
 no money. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 I cannot give what does not belong to mc. 
 
 Marie. 
 What do you mean by " does not belong to 
 mc"[2 
 
 Nicholas. 
 The labour of others does not belong to me. 
 To give him money, I must take from others. 
 I have no right to; I cannot. So long as I am 
 the master of the estate I cannot dispose of it 
 otherwise than as my conscience dictates. I can- 
 not spend the labour of peasants, which costs them 
 their whole strength, on the drinking-bouts of a 
 hussar. Take the estate from me; then I shall 
 not be responsible. 
 
 Marie. 
 You know I do not want that, and I cannot do 
 It. I have to educate the children, to nurse them, 
 to bring them into the world. It is cruel. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 
 Dearest Masha, that is not the point. When 
 you began to speak, I began also, and I wanted so 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 85 
 
 to talk frankly to you. All this is impossible. 
 We live together, and do not understand each 
 other; sometimes it seems as though we misunder- 
 stood each othe. on purpose. 
 
 Marie. 
 
 I want to understand you, but I cannot. I can- 
 not understand what has come over you. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 
 Then try to understand now. It Is hardly the 
 moment, but heaven knows when there will be 
 a moment. Try to understand not only me, but 
 yourself and your own life. We cannot go on 
 living without knowing what we live for. 
 
 Marie. 
 
 We lived so before, and we lived very well 
 (noting an expression of displeasure on his face.) 
 ' — All right; I am listening. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 
 I used to live thus, thus — that is to say, with- 
 out thinking why I lived ; but the time came when 
 I was aghast. We live on the labour of others, 
 we make others work for us, we bring children 
 into the world, and educate them for the same 
 thing. Old age, death, will come, and I shall 
 
86 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 ask myself: '* What did I live for? To produce 
 parasites like myself?" Besides, this life is not 
 even amusing. It is only tolerable when one is 
 overflowing with the energy of life, like Vania. 
 
 Marie. 
 Every one lives like that. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 And every one Is unhappy. 
 
 Marie. 
 Not at all. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 
 I, at least, discovered that I was terribly un- 
 happy, and that I was causing you and the children 
 to be unhappy, and I asked myself: " Is it possible 
 that God created you for this? " And directly I 
 thought that, I felt that the answer was *' No." 
 Then I asked myself : " What did God create us 
 for?" 
 
 (A footman enters. Marie 
 IVANOVNA does not listen to her huS' 
 band, but speaks to the footman,)^ 
 
 Marie. 
 Bring some hot milk. 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 87 
 
 Nicholas. 
 
 I found the answer In the Gospel: we do not 
 live for ourselves at all. It was revealed to me 
 clearly ©nee when I was thinking over the parable 
 of the labourers in the vineyard. Do you remem- 
 ber it? 
 
 Marie. 
 
 Yes ; I know the labourers. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 
 Somehow or other that parable showed me my 
 mistake more clearly than anything. I had be- 
 lieved that my life was my own just as those la- 
 bourers believed that the vineyard was theirs, and 
 everything was terrible to me. But as soon as I 
 \ realised that my life was not my own, that I was 
 sent into the world to do the work of God — ? 
 
 Marie. 
 What of that? iWe all know that. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 
 Well, If we know It, we cannot continue to live 
 as we do, when we know^ our whole life Is not a 
 fulfilment of this will, but, on the contrary, Is in 
 perpetual contradiction to it. 
 
88 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 Marie. 
 
 In what way is It a contradiction when we do 
 no harm to any one? 
 
 Nicholas. 
 
 How can you say we do no harm to any one? 
 That is exactly the conception of life that the 
 labourers In the vineyard had. Wc' — 
 
 Marie. 
 
 Oh, yes; I know the parable. Well, what of 
 It? He gave them all the same portion. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 
 {after a silence,) No; that is not It. But think 
 of this, Masha; we have only one life, and It Is 
 in our power to live it devoutly or to ruin it 
 
 Marie. 
 
 I cannot think and discuss. 1 get no sleep at 
 night; I am nursing baby. I manage the whole 
 household, and instead of helping me you keep 
 on telling me things I do not understand. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 Masha 1 
 
 Marie. 
 And now these visitors are arriving. 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 89 
 
 Nicholas. 
 But we will talk It out to the end, shall we not? 
 {He kisses her.) Yes? 
 
 Marie. 
 Yes. But do be your former self. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 
 That I cannot. But listen to me — 
 
 {The sound of approaching car- 
 riage hells and wheels is heard.) 
 
 Marie. 
 
 There is no time now — they have arrived. I 
 must go to them. 
 
 {Disappears round the corner of 
 the house, followed by Stephen and 
 LuBA. Alexandra Ivanovna and 
 her husband and LiSA come on to the 
 veranda. Nicholas Ivanovich 
 walks about in deep thought.) 
 
 Vania. 
 
 {jumping over a bench.) I don't give in; we'll 
 finish the game ! Well, Luba ? 
 
 LUBA. 
 
 {seriously.) No nonsense, please! 
 
90 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 Alexandra. 
 Well, have you convinced her? 
 
 Nicholas. 
 Aline, what is going on between us now is seri- 
 ous, and jokes are quite out of place. It is not I 
 who am convincing her, but life, truth, God. 
 Therefore she cannot help being convinced — if 
 not to-day, then to-morrow; if not to-morrow — 
 The worst of it all is that no one ever has time. 
 iWho has come? 
 
 Peter. 
 
 The Cheremshanovs — Katia Cheremshanova, 
 whom I have not seen for eighteen years. The 
 last time we met we sang together: " La ei darem 
 la mano." {He sings.) 
 
 Alexandra. 
 {to her husband.) Please do not interfere, and 
 do not imagine that I have quarrelled with Nicho- 
 las. I am speaking the truth. {To Nicho- 
 las.) I was not joking in the least, but it seemed 
 so strange that you wanted to convince Masha at 
 the very moment when she wanted to talk matters 
 over with you. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 Very well, very well. Here they are. Please 
 tell Masha that I am in my room. {Exit.) 
 
ACT II 
 
 Scene I 
 
 Same place in the country. Time: One week 
 later. 
 
 {Scene represents large drawing- 
 room. Table is laid with samovar, 
 tea and cofee. Piano against the 
 wall, music-rack. 
 
 Marie Ivanovna, the Princess, 
 and Peter Semenovich are seated 
 'at the table.) 
 
 Peter. 
 Yes, Princess. It does not seem so long ago 
 %hat you used to sing Rosine, and I . . . 
 Whereas now I should not even do for a Don 
 Basllio. 
 
 Princess. 
 Now the children might sing, but times have 
 altered. 
 
 Peter. 
 Yes, they are posltlvlsts. But I hear your 
 daughter Is a very serious and excellent musician. 
 Are they still asleep ? 
 
 91 
 
92 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 Marie. 
 
 Yes, they went out riding by moonlight and 
 returned very late. I was nursing baby and heard 
 them. 
 
 'Peter. 
 
 And when does my better half return? Have 
 you sent the carriage for her? 
 
 Marie. 
 
 Yes, It went a long time ago. She ought to be 
 here soon. 
 
 Princess. 
 
 Did Alexandra Ivanovna really go with the sole 
 purpose of fetching Father Gerasim? 
 
 Marie. 
 Yes, the thought suddenly struck her yesterday, 
 and she flew off at once. 
 
 Princess. 
 What energy I I admire it. 
 
 Peter. 
 
 Oh, as to that, it never falls us. ( Takes out a 
 cigar.) Well, I think I'll take a turn in the park 
 with the dogs and smoke while the young people 
 are getting up. 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 93 
 
 Princess. 
 
 I don^t know, dear Marie Ivanovna, but I really 
 think you take it too much to heart. I under- 
 stand him. He is full of such high aspiration. 
 What does it matter if he does give his property 
 away to the poor? It's only too true that we all 
 think too much of ourselves. 
 
 Marie. 
 
 Oh, If it were only that. But you don't know 
 him • — you do not know all. It is not only help- 
 ing the poor. It is a complete change — the 
 utter wrecking of everything. 
 
 Princess. 
 
 I certainly do not wish to Intrude Into your 
 family life, but If you would allow me . , . 
 
 Marie. 
 
 But I look on you as one of the family, espe- 
 cially now. 
 
 Princess. 
 
 I should just advise you to put your demands 
 plainly before him, and openly come to some 
 agreement with him as to the limits — 
 
 Marie. 
 (agitated.) There are no limits I He wishes to 
 
94 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 give everything away. He wants me at my age to 
 become a cook — a laundress. 
 
 Princess. 
 
 Oh, impossible! How extraordinary I 
 
 Marie. 
 
 (taking out a letter.) Now we are quite alone; I 
 should like to tell you everything. Yesterday he 
 wrote me this letter. I will read it to you. 
 
 Princess. 
 
 What! living in the same house with you, he 
 writes you letters ? How strange 1 
 
 Marie. 
 
 Oh, no. I quite understand. He gets so ex- 
 cited when he talks I have been feeling anxious 
 about his health lately. 
 
 Princess. 
 Well, what does he write? 
 
 Marie. 
 
 Listen. {She reads.) " You reproach me for 
 destroying our former life without offering you 
 anything else or saying how I intend to provide 
 for my family. When we begin to talk we both 
 get excited, so I am writing instead. I have told 
 
H SHINES IN DARKNESS 95 
 
 you many times why I can't go on living as I have 
 done. And as for trying to convince you that it 
 is wrong to live as we have been accustomed to 
 do, that we must lead a Christian life, I cannot 
 do that in a letter. You can do one of two things 
 . — either believe in truth and liberty and go 
 with me, or believe in me, give yourself trustfully 
 to me, and follow me." {Stops reading.) But 
 I can do neither of these things! I do not be- 
 lieve that I ought to live as he desires, and more- 
 over I love the children and I cannot trust him. 
 {Continues to read.) " My plan is this. We 
 will give all our land to the peasants, leaving our- 
 selves fifty acres and the kitchen garden and the 
 flooded meadow. We will try to work, but we 
 will not force ourselves or our children to work. 
 What we reserve for ourselves will bring in about 
 five hundred roubles * a year." 
 
 Princess. 
 
 It is impossible to live on five hundred roubles 
 a year with seven children. 
 
 Marie. 
 
 Well, and then he goes on to say that we will 
 give up our house for a school and live in the 
 gardener's cottage, in two rooms. 
 
 *A rouble = about 2s. 
 
96 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 Princess. 
 
 Yes, I really begin to think that he's not well. 
 What have you answered? 
 
 Marie. 
 
 I told him I could not agree to it That, were 
 I alone, I would follow him anywhere. But with 
 the children . . . Just think — I am nursing 
 little Nicholas. I told him It was impossible to 
 break up everything like that. Was this what I 
 married him for? I am already old and feeble. 
 It Is not an easy matter to bring nine children into 
 the world and nurse them. 
 
 Princess. 
 I never dreamt it had gone so far I 
 
 Marie. 
 
 Well, that IS how matters stand, and I can't 
 Imagine what will become of us. Yesterday he 
 remitted the entire rent of the peasants from 
 Dmitrovka, and he intends to give that land to 
 them outright. 
 
 Princess. 
 
 I really think you ought not to permit that. It 
 IS our duty to protect our children. If he cannot 
 own his estate himself, let him give It to you. 
 
P SHINES IN DARKNESS 97 
 
 Marie. 
 I don't want it. 
 
 Princess. 
 But it is your duty to retain it, for the sake of 
 your children. Let him make It over to you. 
 
 Marie. 
 My sister suggested that to him, but he said he 
 had no right to dispose of it, as the land belonged 
 to those who tilled it, and it was his duty to give 
 ^ it to the peasants. 
 
 Princess. 
 
 ' .Yes, I see It is really much more serious than I 
 I thought. 
 
 Marie. 
 And fancy I our priest is on his side. 
 Princess. 
 
 II noticed that yesterday. 
 Marie. 
 Now my sister has gone to Moscow to consult a 
 lawyer, and above all to bring Father Gerasim 
 back with her to see if he has any influence with 
 him. 
 
 Princess. 
 I do not think that Christianity consists in ruin- 
 ing one's own family. 
 
98 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 Marie. 
 But he will not trust Father Gerasim. He is 
 too far confirmed In his convictions, and you know 
 when he talks I can find no arguments to use 
 against him. The worst of it is •^— I believe he is 
 right. 
 
 Princess. 
 That is only because you love him. 
 
 Marie. 
 I do not know why, but it is dreadful, dreadful. 
 Everything remains unsettled. That's what re- 
 ligion does! 
 
 (Enter Nurse.) 
 
 Nurse. 
 Please, ma'am, the baby is awake and wants 
 you. 
 
 Marie. 
 I will come in a moment. I am worried, and 
 the baby has colic, you see. I am coming. 
 
 XExit Princess.) 
 \From the other side enters Nicho- 
 las with a paper in his hand.) 
 
 Nicholas. 
 It Is incredible I 
 
 Marie. 
 What Is the matter? 
 
J SHINES IN DARKNESS 99 
 
 Nicholas. 
 The matter is just this, that for a pine tree of 
 rs, Peter is to go to jail. 
 Marie. 
 But why? 
 
 Nicholas. 
 
 I Because he felled it. They took the matter to 
 court, and he is sentenced to a month's imprison- 
 ment. His wife came to implore me r—n » 
 
 Marie. 
 
 Well, can't you help her? 
 
 Nicholas. 
 
 I cannot now. The only thing to do is not to 
 own any forest; and I will not! I will just go 
 J and see if I can help in the trouble of which I my- 
 self have been the cause. 
 
 (Enter LuBA and BORlS.)' 
 
 LUBA. 
 
 Good morning, father. (Kisses him,) 
 Where are you going? 
 
 Nicholas. 
 
 I have just come from the village and I'm now 
 on my way back. A hungry man is being put in 
 jail for — 
 
loo THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 LUBA. 
 
 It's probably Peter. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 Yes — Peter. 
 {Exeunt Nicholas and Marie Ivanovna.) 
 
 LUBA. 
 
 {sitting down before the samovar,) Will you 
 take coffee or tea? 
 
 Boris. 
 I do not care. 
 
 LUBA. 
 
 Things are just as they were. I cannot see how 
 it will end. 
 
 Boris. 
 
 I do not quite understand him. I know the 
 peasants are poor and Ignorant, that it's our duty ^ 
 to help them. But not by showing favour to 
 thieves. 
 
 LuBA. 
 But how? 
 
 Boris. 
 By everything we do. We must dedicate all 
 our knowledge to them, but we cannot give up our 
 life. 
 
 LUBA. 
 
 Father says that Ts just what we must do. 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS loi 
 
 Boris. 
 I do not see why. It is quite possible to help 
 the people without ruining one's own life, and 
 that is what I intend doing myself. If only 
 you — 
 
 LUBA. 
 
 Your wishes are mine. And I am not afraid 
 of anything. 
 
 Boris. 
 But what about your ear-rings, and your dress ? 
 
 LUBA. 
 
 The ear-rings we can sell, and as for the frock, 
 I might dress differently without being altogether 
 ugly. 
 
 Boris. 
 I want to have another talk with him. Do you 
 - think I should be in his way if I went to the vll- 
 ^ lage? 
 
 LUBA. 
 
 I'm sure you wouldn't. I can see he Is very 
 fond of you. Yesterday he talked to you nearly 
 all the time. 
 
 Boris. 
 
 Then I'll go. 
 
 LUBA. 
 Yes, do. And I'll go and wake up Lisa and 
 Tonla. 
 
 (Exit on different sides.)] 
 
102 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 Scene II 
 
 Village street. The peasant IvAN ZlABREV is 
 lying on the ground at a cottage door, with a 
 sheepskin coat over him, 
 
 Ivan. 
 
 Malashka I 
 
 (From behind the cottage comes a 
 little girl with a baby in her arms. 
 The baby cries,) 
 I want a drink of water. 
 
 (Malashka goes into the cottage. 
 The baby is heard crying still. She 
 brings a jug of water. ) 
 Why do you hit the baby and make him howl? 
 I'll tell your mother. 
 
 Malashka. 
 Do tell mother! Baby's howling because he's 
 hungry. 
 
 Ivan. 
 {drinking.) Why don't you go and get some 
 milk at Demkin's? 
 
 Malashka. 
 I have been. They haven't got any, and there 
 was not a soul at home. 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 103 
 
 Ivan. 
 Oh, I wish Death would come quicker. Has 
 the dinner bell rung? 
 
 Malashka. 
 {screaming at the top of her voice,) Yes, it has 
 rung I There's the master coming I 
 
 {Enter Nicholas.) 
 
 Nicholas. 
 Why are you lying out here ? 
 
 Ivan. 
 There are flies there. And it's too hot. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 Have you got warm then? 
 
 Ivan. 
 I feel as if I were on fire now. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 Where is Peter? At home? 
 
 Ivan. 
 How could he be, at this hour? He's gone to 
 the fields to bring in the sheaves. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 I was told he had been arrested. 
 
104 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 Ivan. 
 
 That's quite true. The policeman has gone to 
 the field after him. 
 
 (Enter a pregnant Woman, with 
 a sheaf of oats and a pitchfork, and 
 immediately hits Malashka over the 
 head.) 
 
 Woman. 
 Why did you go away from the baby? Do 
 listen to him screaming. You only think of run- 
 ning out in the road. 
 
 Malashka. 
 {crying loudly.) I just came out to give father a 
 drink of water. 
 
 Woman. 
 I'll give it you. {Sees Nicholas Ivano- 
 VICH.) Good-day, Nicholas Ivanovich. You 
 see what they are all bringing me to ! There's no 
 one but me to do anything, and I'm worn out. 
 Now they're taking our very last man to jail, and 
 this lazy lout is lying about doing nothing. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 Why do you say that? You can see he Is ill. 
 
 Woman. 
 Ill, indeed. What about me? When there's 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 105 
 
 work to be done then he*s sick, but If he wants to 
 go on the spree and knock me about, he^s well 
 enough. Let him die like a dog. I don't care. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 How sinful to talk like that I 
 
 Woman. 
 I know it's a sin. But my temper gets the 
 better of me. Look how I am, and I have to 
 work for two. All the others have got their oats 
 in, and a quarter of our field isn't cut yet. I 
 ought not to have stopped, but I had to come 
 home and see after the children. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 I will have your oats cut for you and will send 
 some binders out to your field. 
 
 Woman. 
 Oh, I can manage the binding myself, if we 
 can only get it cut. Oh, Nicholas Ivanovich, do 
 you think he's going to die? He's very low in- 
 deed. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 I'm sure I don't know; but he's certainly very 
 weak. I think he had better be taken to the hos- 
 pital. 
 
 Woman. 
 Oh, my God! {Begins to weep loudly.) 
 
io6 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 Don't take him away. Let him die here. {To 
 the husband.) What did you say? 
 
 Ivan. 
 
 I want to go to hospital. Fm lying here worse 
 than a dog. 
 
 Woman. 
 Oh, I don't know what to do I I shall go mad I 
 Malashka, get dinner I 
 
 Nicholas. 
 And what have you got for dinner? 
 
 Woman. 
 Some potatoes and bread. That's all we've 
 got. {Goes into cottage, the sounds of a pig 
 squealing and children crying are heard.) 
 
 Ivan. 
 {groaning.) Oh, God, If Death would come! 
 
 {Enter Boris.) 
 
 Boris. 
 Can't I be of any use here! 
 
 Nicholas. 
 No one can be of any use here. The evil is 
 too deeply rooted. We can only be of use to our- 
 selves by realising on what foundations we build 
 our happiness. Here Is a family — five chll- 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 107 
 
 dren — the wife pregnant, the husband 111, and 
 nothing in the house to eat but potatoes. And at 
 this moment it is a question whether they will have 
 food for next year. And there is no help for 
 them. How can one help? I am going to hire 
 a man to work for them. But who will that man 
 be? A man as badly off as they are, who has 
 given up tilling his own land through drunkenness 
 or poverty. 
 
 Boris. 
 Excuse me, but if that is the case, why are you 
 here? 
 
 Nicholas. 
 
 I am trying to ascertain my own position; to 
 
 know who looks after our gardens, builds our 
 
 houses, makes our clothes, feeds and dresses us. 
 
 (Peasants with scythes and 
 
 Women with pitchforks pass them. 
 
 They bow to the master.) 
 
 Nicholas. 
 {stopping one of them.) Ephralm, can you take 
 the job of cutting Ivan's oats for him? 
 
 Ephraim. 
 {shaking his head.) I'd do It gladly, but I can't. 
 I haven't got my own In yet. I'm just hurrying 
 off to do it now. Why? Is Ivan dying? 
 
io8 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 Another Peasant. 
 There's old Sebastian. Maybe he can take the 
 job. Sebastian I They want a man to reap. 
 
 Sebastian. 
 Take the job yourself if you want it. One day 
 may mean the whole year in such weather as this. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 (to Boris.) All those men are half-starved, 
 many of them ill or old, living on bread and 
 water. Look at that old man. He suffers from 
 rupture — and he works from four in the morn- 
 ing till ten at night, and is barely alive. And we 
 •—now, is it possible, when we once understand 
 this, to go on living quietly and calling ourselves 
 Christians? Can we call ourselves anything short 
 of beasts? 
 
 Boris. 
 But what are we to do? 
 
 Nicholas. 
 Not be a party to evil. Not possess land. 
 Not feed upon their toil. How this can be man- 
 aged I do not know. The thing is — at least so 
 it was with me. I lived and did not understand 
 what sort of life I led. I didn't understand that 
 I was a son of God and that we were all sons of 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 109 
 
 God and all brothers. But when I came to under- 
 stand that, when I saw that all had equal claims 
 on life, my whole life was changed. I cannot ex- 
 plain it very well to you, I can only say that be- 
 fore, I was blind, just as my family still are, but 
 now my eyes are opened I cannot help seeing. 
 And> seeing, I cannot go on living as before. 
 But, of course, for the present we must do as best 
 we can. 
 
 (Enter Police-Sergeant, with 
 Peter, and his wife and a hoy,) 
 
 Peter. 
 {falling on his knees before Nicholas Ivano- 
 VICH.) Forgive me, for Christ's sake. Fm 
 done for! My wife can't get along alone. 
 Can't you let me go on bail ? 
 
 Nicholas. 
 I will see about it. I will write. {To the 
 Police-Sergeant.) Couldn't you let him stay 
 here meanwhile ? 
 
 Sergeant. 
 I have orders to take him to the police-station. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 Go then; I will hire a labourer. I will do all 
 that is possible. This is my fault. How can one 
 live like this? 
 
 {Exit.) 
 
no THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 Scene III 
 
 Same as Scene I. It is raining outside. 
 Drawing-room with a piano. TONIA has just 
 finished playing the Schumann Sonata, and is still 
 sitting at the piano. Stephen stands near the 
 piano. After the music, LuBA, Lisa, Anna 
 IvANOVNA, MiTROFAN Dmitrich and the Priest 
 are all greatly moved. 
 
 LuBA. 
 The Andante is so lovely. 
 
 Stephen. 
 No= — the Scherzo I But the whole thing is 
 charming. 
 
 Beautiful I 
 
 Lisa. 
 
 Stephen. 
 {to ToNiA.) I had no Idea you were such an 
 artist. Your rendering is masterly. Difficulties 
 do not seem to exist for you, you only think of 
 the expression, and it is so exquisitely delicate. 
 
 LuBA. 
 So noble, too I 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS iii 
 
 TONIA. 
 I feel It IS not what I want it to be. There's a 
 great deal lacking In my playing. 
 
 Lisa. 
 It could not be better. It is marvellous. 
 
 LUBA. 
 Schumann is very great. But I think Chopin 
 appeals to the heart more. 
 
 Stephen. 
 He IS more lyrical. 
 
 TONIA. 
 
 I do not think a comparison Is possible. 
 
 LUBA. 
 
 Do you remember that Prelude of his ? 
 
 TONIA. 
 
 Do you mean the so-called George Sand one? 
 
 {Begins to play,) 
 
 LUBA. 
 
 No, not that one. That Is lovely, but It Is 
 hackneyed. Please play this one. 
 
 (ToNiA tries to play, hut breaks 
 off and stops,) 
 
 LuBA. 
 
 No, the one In D minor. 
 
112 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 TONIA. 
 
 Oh, this one. It Is wonderful. It is like chaos 
 before the Creation. 
 
 Stephen. 
 (laughs.) Yes, yes I Do play it. No, better 
 not — you are tired. We have already had a 
 wonderful morning, thanks to you. 
 
 (ToNiA rises and looks out of the 
 window,) 
 
 TONIA. 
 There are the peasants again, 
 
 LuBA. 
 That's what is so precious in music. I under- 
 stand Saul. Tm not tormented by the devil, but 
 I know how Saul felt. There's no art that can 
 make one forget everything like music. 
 
 TONIA. 
 
 And yet you are going to marry % man who 
 doesn't understand music. 
 
 LUBA. 
 
 Oh, but — Boris does understand it. 
 
 Boris. 
 (absent-minded.) Music! — Yes, I like music. 
 But It Isn't Important. And I am rather sorry 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 113 
 
 for the life that people lead who attach so much 
 importance to It. 
 
 {There are sweets on the table and 
 they all eat.) 
 
 LuBA. 
 How nice to be engaged I Then one always 
 has sweets. 
 
 Boris. 
 Oh, it is not I' — it's mother. 
 
 TONIA. 
 Very nice of her. {Goes to the window.y 
 Whom do you want to see? The peasants have 
 come to see Nicholas Ivanovich. 
 
 LuBA. 
 {going to the window.) He is not at home. 
 
 Wait. 
 
 TONIA. 
 And what about poetry? 
 
 LuBA. 
 No, the value of music is that it takes hold of 
 you, and carries you away from reality. We were 
 all so gloomy just now, and when you began to 
 play, everything brightened. It did really. 
 Take the waltzes of Chopin. They're hackneyed, 
 of course, but — ^ 
 
 TONIA. 
 
 This one? {She plays.) 
 
114 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 Scene IV 
 
 {Enter Nicholas. He greets 
 ToNiA, LuBA, Stephen, and Lisa.) 
 
 Nicholas. 
 {to LuBA.) Where's Mother? 
 
 LUBA. 
 
 I think she is In the nursery. Father, how 
 wonderfully Tenia plays. Where have you 
 been? 
 
 Nicholas. 
 In the village. 
 
 (Stephen calls the footman, who 
 enters,) 
 
 Stephen. 
 Bring another samovar. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 {shakes hands with footman.) Good morning! 
 {Footman confused. Exit. Exit 
 also Nicholas.) 
 
 Stephen. 
 Poor chap! He's so embarrassed. He 
 doesn't understand. It's as If we were all guilty 
 somehow. 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 115 
 
 Nicholas. 
 (re-enters.) I was going to my room without 
 telling you what I felt. I think it was wrong of 
 me. (To ToNiA.) If you, who are our guest, 
 are hurt by what I am going to say, please forgive 
 me, as I must speak. You said just now, Luba, 
 that Tonia played well. Here you are, seven or 
 eight healthy young men and women. You slept 
 till ten o'clock. Then you had food and drink, 
 and you are still eating, and you play and discuss 
 music. And there, where I have just come from, 
 the people are up at three in the morning. Some 
 have not slept at all, having watched the cattle all 
 night, and all of them, even the old, the sick, and 
 the children, and the women with babies at the 
 breast and those who are about to have children, 
 work with their utmost strength, that we may 
 enjoy the fruits of their labour. And as if that 
 were not enough, one of them, the only worker 
 in the family. Is just now being dragged to prison 
 because In the spring he cut down a pine-tree In 
 the forest which is called mine — one of the hun- 
 dred thousand that grow there. Here we are, 
 washed and dressed, having left all our unclean- 
 ness In the bedrooms for slaves to carry away. 
 Eating, drinking, or discussing, which touches us 
 more — Schumann or Chopin — and which of 
 them drives away our ennui the more effectually. 
 
lie THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 That is what I thought on seeing you all just now, 
 and so tell you. Just think whether It is possible 
 to go on like that I {Standing in great agita' 
 tion,) 
 
 Lisa. 
 It Is true ^^-^ quite true. 
 
 LUBA. 
 
 Thinking as you do, life is Impossible.. 
 
 Stephen. 
 
 Why IS It Impossible? I don't see why we 
 shouldn't talk about Schumann even though the 
 peasants are poor. The one doesn't exclude the 
 other. If men=^ 
 
 Nicholas. 
 
 {angrily,) If a man has no heart and Is made 
 of wood ^ — 
 
 Stephen. 
 Well, I will be silent. 
 
 TONIA. 
 
 This problem Is terrible. And It Is the prob- 
 lem of our time. We must not be afraid of it. 
 We must look reality in the face In order to solve 
 it. 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 117 
 
 Nicholas. 
 
 There is no time to wait for the problem to be 
 solved by concerted action. Each of us may die 
 to-day or to-morrow. How am I to live without 
 suffering from this inner conflict. 
 
 Boris. 
 
 Of course the only way is not to share in the 
 evil. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 
 Well, forgive me if I have hurt you. I could 
 not help saying what I felt. (Exit,) 
 
 Stephen. 
 
 How could we avoid sharing in it? Our whole 
 life is bound up with it. 
 
 Boris. 
 
 That IS exactly why he says that in the first 
 place one ought not to possess property, and one's 
 whole life should be so altered that one may serve 
 others, and not be served by them. 
 
 TONIA. 
 
 Oh, I see you are quite on Nicholas Ivanovich's 
 side. 
 
ii8 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 Boris. 
 Yes, I begin to understand for the first time; 
 and, besides, all I saw in the village. We have 
 only to take off the spectacles through which we 
 are accustomed to view the life of the peasants, 
 to see how their misery is connected with our 
 pleasures, and there you are. 
 
 MiTROFAN. 
 But the remedy is not to ruin our own lives. 
 
 Stephen. 
 Isn't It extraordinary how Mitrofan Ermilovich 
 and I, standing at opposite poles, agree on some 
 points? Those are my exact words: not to ruin 
 our own lives. 
 
 Boris. 
 It*s perfectly simple. You both want a pleas- 
 ant life, and so you want to adopt a plan of living 
 that will ensure it. You (turning to Stephen) 
 would like to preserve present conditions, and 
 Mitrofan Ermilovich wants new ones. 
 
 (LuBA speaks under her breath to 
 TONIA. TONIA goes to the piano 
 and plays a Chopin Nocturne, All 
 are silent.) 
 
 ! Stephen. 
 
 ' That is beautiful. That solves all problems. 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 119; 
 
 Boris. 
 
 It only obscures them, and delays their solution. 
 (During the music enter silently 
 Marie Ivanovna and the Princess. 
 'They sit down and listen. Before the 
 end of the Nocturne carriage bells are 
 heard,) 
 
 LuBA. 
 
 Oh, that IS Auntie ! 
 
 {Goes to meet her. Music con- 
 tinues. Enter Alexandra Ivan- 
 ovna and a lawyer and FatheJR 
 Gerasim with his pectoral cross. 
 All present rise.) 
 
 Father Gerasim. 
 
 Pray continue. It is very pleasant. 
 
 {The Princess and Father 
 Vasily go up to him and ask his 
 blessing. ) 
 
 Alexandra. 
 
 I have done what I said I would. I found 
 Father Gerasim and persuaded him to come with 
 me. He is going to Kursk. So I have done my 
 part. And here is the lawyer. He has the 
 papers all ready to sign. 
 
120 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 Marie. 
 Would you not like to have some luncheon? 
 
 {The Lawyer lays his papers on 
 the table and goes.) 
 I am very grateful to Father Gerasim. 
 
 Father Gerasim. 
 What else could I do ? It was not on my way, 
 but my Christian duty bade me come. 
 
 (Princess whispers to the young 
 people. They all talk among theni' 
 selves, and go out on the veranda, 
 except Boris. Father Vasily rises 
 to go.) 
 
 Father Gerasim. 
 Stay with us. You as a spiritual father, and 
 the pastor here, may derive some benefit and be 
 of use. Stay, if Marie Ivanovna does not object. 
 
 Marie. 
 Oh, no. Father Vasily is like one of the family 
 to me. I consulted him as well, but being young, 
 he lacks authority. 
 
 Father Gerasim. 
 Undoubtedly, undoubtedly. 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 121 
 
 Alexandra. 
 
 (approaching him.) Now, you see, Father 
 Gerasim, you are the only one that can help us and 
 persuade him to see reason. He is a clever man 
 and a learned man; but you know yourself, learn- 
 ing can only do harm. He does not see clearly 
 somehow. He persists In saying that the Chris- 
 tian command is to have no possessions. But is 
 that possible? 
 
 Father Gerasim. 
 It IS all a snare, Intellectual pride, self-will. 
 The fathers of the Church have settled that ques- 
 tion adequately. But how did it all come about? 
 
 Marie. 
 To be quite frank with you, I must say that when 
 we married he was indifferent to religious ques- 
 tions, and we lived the first twenty years of our 
 life happily. Then he began to think about 
 these things. His sister may, perhaps, have in- 
 fluenced him, or his reading. But at any rate he 
 began to think, to read the Gospel, and then all 
 at once he became very pious, going to church, 
 visiting monks, and then he suddenly stopped 
 all that, and changed his life completely. Now 
 he does everything for himself, he permits none 
 of the servants to do anything for him, and, 
 worst of all, he is giving away all his property. 
 
122 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 Yesterday he gave away his forest and the land 
 attached to It. I am afraid. I have seven chil- 
 dren. Do talk to him. I'll go and ask whether 
 he will see youw (Exit.) 
 
 Father Gerasim. 
 Yes, nowadays, many are leaving the Church. 
 What about the property? Does it belong to him 
 or his wife? 
 
 Alexandra. 
 It is his own. That is the worst of it. 
 
 Father Gerasim. , 
 
 And what is his rank. 
 
 Princess. 
 
 Not a high one. I think he is a captain. He 
 has been in the army. 
 
 Father Gerasim. 
 
 Many are leaving the Church nowadays. In 
 Odessa there was a lady who became infatuated 
 with spiritualism, and she began to do a lot of 
 harm. But finally God prevailed, and brought 
 her again within the Church. 
 
 Princess. 
 
 Now, father, you must understand. My son 
 is going to marry their daughter. I have given 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 123 
 
 my consent. But the girl Is used to a life of lux- 
 ury, and she must have means of her own so that 
 the entire burden may not fall upon my son. I 
 must say he works hard, and he is a remarkable 
 young man. 
 
 {Enter Marie Ivanovna and 
 Nicholas Ivanovich.) 
 
 Nicholas. 
 How do you do, Princess? How do you do? 
 Pardon me — I do not know your name. ( To 
 Father Gerasim.) 
 
 Father Gerasim. 
 Do you not wish for a blessing? 
 
 Nicholas. 
 No, I do not. 
 
 Father Gerasim. 
 I am Gerasim Feodorovlch. Pleased to meet 
 you. 
 
 {Footman brings refreshments and 
 wine.) 
 It Is fine weather, and very favourable for har- 
 vesting. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 I understand you have come on the invitation 
 of Alexandra Ivanovna to convince me of my 
 
124 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 errors, and to lead me into the right way. If 
 that is the case, do not let us beat about the bush. 
 Let us come to the point. I do not deny that I 
 disagree with the teaching of the Church. I used 
 to believe in it, but I have ceased to do so. 
 Nevertheless, I long with my whole soul to be in 
 harmony with the truth, and if you can show it 
 to me, I will accept it without hesitation. 
 
 Father Gerasim. 
 How can you say you do not believe the teach- 
 ing of the Church? What are we to believe if 
 not the Church? 
 
 Nicholas. 
 God, and his law, given to us in the Gospel. 
 
 Father Gerasim. 
 The Church instructs us in that very law. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 If that were so, I would believe the Church. 
 But the Church teaches the very opposite. 
 
 Father Gerasim. 
 The Church cannot teach the opposite, for it is 
 founded by our Lord. It is said, " I give you the 
 power, and the Gates of Hell shall not prevail 
 against it." 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 125 
 
 Nicholas. 
 That refers to something quite different. But, 
 supposing that Christ did found a church. How 
 do I know that it Is your Church? 
 
 Father Gerasim. 
 Because It Is said, *' Where two or three are 
 gathered together In My name — " 
 
 Nicholas. 
 That does not apply either, and does not prove 
 anything. 
 
 Father Gerasim. 
 How can you renounce the Church, when the 
 Church alone possesses grace? 
 
 Nicholas. 
 I did not renounce the Church until I was 
 wholly convinced that It supports all that Is con- 
 trary to Christianity. 
 
 Father Gerasim. 
 The Church cannot err, because she alone pos- 
 sesses the truth. Those err who leave her. The 
 Church Is sacred. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 But I have told you I do not admit that, be- 
 cause the Gospel says, " Ye shall know them by 
 
I2g THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 their fruits.*' And I perceive that the Church 
 gives her sanction to oath-taking and murder and 
 executions. 
 
 Father Gerasim. 
 The Church admits and consecrates the powers 
 instituted by God. 
 
 (During the conversation enter one 
 by one Luba, Lisa, Stephen, 
 ToNiA, and Boris, who sit or stand 
 and listen.) 
 
 Nicholas. 
 I know that not only killing but anger is for- 
 bidden by the Gospel. And the Church gives its 
 blessing to the army. The Gospel says, " Do not 
 swear," and the Church administers oaths. The 
 Gospel says — 
 
 Father Gerasim. 
 Excuse me — when Pilate said, " I ask you in 
 the name of the living God," Christ accepted the 
 oath, and said, " Yes, that I am." 
 
 Nicholas. 
 Oh, what are you saying? That is simply 
 ridiculous 1 
 
 Father Gerasim. 
 That is why the Church does not permit in- 
 dividuals to interpret the Gospel. She would 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 127 
 
 preserve men from error, and she cares for them 
 as a mother for her children. She gives them an 
 interpretation befitting the powers of their mind. 
 No ! Allow me to finish. The Church does not 
 give her children a burden heavier than they can 
 bear. She requires only that they fulfil the com- 
 mandments. Love, do not kill, do not steal, do 
 not commit adultery. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 Yes. Do not kill me, do not steal from me 
 what I have stolen. We have all robbed the 
 people, have stolen their land, and then we in- 
 stituted the law against stealing. And the Church 
 sanctions it all. 
 
 Father Gerasim. 
 That IS all a snare, mere spiritual pride speak- 
 ing in you. You want to show off your intellect. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 Not at all ! I merely ask you, how, according 
 to the law of Christ, am I to behave now, when 
 I have recognised the sin of robbing the people 
 and appropriating their land! What must I do? 
 Go on holding my land, exploiting the labour of 
 the starving peasants, just for this? {He points 
 to the servant who is bringing in lunch and wine.) 
 Or am I to give back the land to those who have 
 been robbed by my ancestors? 
 
128 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 Father Gerasim. 
 You must act as a son of the Church should act. 
 You have a family, children, and must bring them 
 up as befits their station. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 Why must I ? 
 
 Father Gerasim. 
 Because God has placed you in that station. 
 And If you want to do charitable acts, then per- 
 form them by giving away part of your fortune, 
 and by visiting the poor. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 Then why was It said that the rich man could 
 not enter the kingdom of heaven ? 
 
 Father Gerasim. 
 It was said, if he desired to be perfect. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 But I do want to be perfect. It is said In the 
 Gospel, " Be ye perfect even as your Father in 
 Heaven is perfect." 
 
 Father Gerasim. 
 But one must understand to what it applies. 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 129 
 
 Nicholas. 
 That IS exactly what I am trying to understand, 
 and all that was said in the Sermon on the Mount 
 is simple and clear. 
 
 Father Gerasim. 
 It is all spiritual pride. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 Why pride, if it is said that what is hidden from 
 the wise shall be revealed to babes? 
 
 Father Gerasim. 
 It will be revealed to the humble not to the 
 proud. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 But who is proud? Is It I, who think that I 
 am like the rest, and therefore must live like the 
 rest, live by my labour, and in the same poverty 
 as all my brothers, or Is It they who consider 
 themselves apart from the rest, as the priests who 
 think they know the whole truth, and cannot 
 err, and interpret the words of Christ to suit 
 themselves? 
 
 Father Gerasim. 
 (offended.) I beg your pardon, Nicholas Ivano- 
 vich, I have not come to argue as to who Is right. 
 
I30 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 I did not come to be lectured. I complied with 
 the wish of Alexandra Ivanovna, and came to have 
 a talk. But you appear to know everything bet- 
 ter than I, so the conversation had better cease. 
 But I beseech you for the last time, in the name 
 of God, to reconsider the matter. You are ter- 
 ribly wrong, and will lose your own soul. 
 
 Marie. 
 Won't you come and have something to eat? 
 
 Father Gerasim. 
 
 Thank you very much. (Accepts.) 
 
 (Exit with Anna Ivanovna.)' 
 
 Marie. 
 (to Father Vastly.) What is the result of 
 your talk? 
 
 Father Vasily. 
 Well, my opinion is that Nicholas Ivanovich 
 spoke truly, and Father Gerasim brought no argu- 
 ments against what he said. 
 
 Princess. 
 He was not allowed to speak. And then He 
 did not like it. It became a sort of wordy tour- 
 nament, with everybody listening. He withdrew 
 out of modesty. 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 131 
 
 Boris. 
 It was not at all from modesty. Everything he 
 said was false, and he obviously had nothing more 
 to say. 
 
 Princess. 
 Oh, I see. With your usual fickleness you are 
 beginning to agree with Nicholas Ivanovich. If 
 those are your opinions you ought not to marry. 
 
 Boris. 
 I only say that truth is truth. I cannot help 
 saying It. 
 
 Princess. 
 
 You are the last person who ought to speak 
 like that. 
 
 Boris. 
 
 Why? 
 
 Princess. 
 Because you are poor, and have nothing to give 
 away. However, the whole affair is no concern 
 of ours. (Exit,) 
 
 (After her all except NICHOLAS 
 and Marie Ivanovna go out,) 
 
 Nicholas. 
 (sits deep in thought and smiles meditatively.) 
 Masha, what Is all this about? Why did you 
 
132 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 ask that miserable, misguided man to come here? 
 Why should that noisy woman and this priest take 
 part In the most intimate questions of our life? 
 Couldn't we settle all our affairs between our- 
 selves? 
 
 Marie. 
 But what can I do if you wish to leave our 
 children with nothing? I cannot sit still and let 
 you do that. You know It Is not greed?!^! do 
 not want anything for myself. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 I know, I know. I trust you. But the mis- 
 fortune Is that you do not believe. I don't mean 
 that you don't believe the truth. I know you see 
 It; but you cannot bring yourself to trust It. You 
 do not trust the truth, and you do not trust me. 
 You would rather trust the crowd   — the princess 
 and the rest. 
 
 Marie. 
 I trust you; I have always trusted you. But 
 when you want to make our children beggars — 
 
 Nicholas. 
 
 That proves that you do not trust me. Do 
 
 you Imagine I have not struggled and have not had 
 
 fears ? But now I am perfectly convinced, not only 
 
 that It can be done, but must be done, and that 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 133 
 
 this IS the only right thing to do for the children. 
 You always say that if it were not for the children 
 you would follow me. And I say that if it were 
 not for the children you might go on living as you 
 do. We should only be injuring ourselves. As it 
 is we injure them. 
 
 Marie. 
 But what can I do if I don't understand? 
 
 Nicholas. 
 And I — what am I to do ? I know why you 
 sent for that poor creature dressed up in his cas- 
 sock and his cross, and I know why Aline brought 
 the lawyer. You want me to transfer the estate 
 to your name. I cannot do that. You know I 
 have loved you during the twenty years we have 
 been married. I love you, and I have every wish 
 for your welfare, and that is why I cannot sign 
 that transfer. If I am to make over the estate, 
 then it must be to those from whom it came — the 
 peasants. I cannot give it to you. I must give it 
 to them. I am glad the lawyer has come. I 
 must do it. 
 
 Marie. 
 This is dreadful! Why are you so cruel? If 
 you think it a sin to hold property, give it to me. 
 {Weeps.) 
 
134 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 Nicholas. 
 You do not know what you are saying. If I 
 gave it to you I could not go on living with you. 
 I should have to go away. I cannot continue to 
 live in these conditions, and see the peasants 
 squeezed dry, whether it is in your name or mine. 
 I cannot see them put in prison. So choose. 
 
 Marie. 
 How cruel you are! This is not Christianity; 
 it is wicked. I cannot live as you want me to do. 
 I cannot take things from my children to give to 
 strangers, and for that you would forsake me! 
 Well, go. I see that you no longer love me, and, 
 indeed, I know the reason. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 Very well, I will sign it. But, Masha, you are 
 asking the impossible of me. (Goes to the table 
 and signs,) It is you who desired that. I can- 
 not live so. (Rushes away holding his head,) 
 
 Marie. 
 (calling.) Lubal Aline I (They enter,) He 
 has signed — and gone. What am I to do? He 
 said he would go away, and he will. Go to him. 
 
 LuBA. 
 He is gone. 
 
ACT III 
 
 Scene I 
 
 Scene is laid in Moscow. Large room, and in 
 it a carpenter^ s bench, a table with papers, a book- 
 case. Boards lean against and cover the mirror 
 and the pictures. Nicholas Ivanovich is 
 working at the bench; a carpenter is planing. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 {taking a finished board from the bench.) Is 
 that all right? 
 
 Carpenter. 
 (adjusts the plane.) It's not up to much. Go at 
 It I Don't be afraid. Like that. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 I wish I could, but I cannot manage It. 
 
 Carpenter. 
 But why do you go In for carpentering, sir? 
 There are so many In our trade now, you can't 
 make a living at it. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 (continues working.) 1 am ashamed to live In 
 idleness. 
 
 135 
 
136 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 Carpenter. 
 
 But that's your lot in life, sir. God has given 
 you property. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 
 That is just the point. I do not believe God 
 gave anything of the kind. Men have amassed 
 goods that they have taken from their brothers. 
 
 Carpenter. 
 
 (wondering.) That may all be very true. But 
 still you need not work. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 
 I understand that it seems strange to you that 
 in this house, where there is so much superfluity, I 
 still wish to earn my living. 
 
 Carpenter. 
 
 (laughing,) Well, that's just like you gentlemen. 
 There's nothing you don't want to do. Now just 
 smooth off that plank. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 
 Perhaps you will not believe me and will laugh 
 at me when I say that I used to live that way and 
 was not ashamed of it, but now that I believe 
 the teaching of Christ that we are all brothers, I 
 am ashamed to live that life. 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 137 
 
 Carpenter. 
 If you are ashamed give away your property. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 I wanted to, but I did not succeed. I have 
 handed it over to my wife. 
 
 A Voice. 
 {from outside,) Father, may I come In? 
 
 Nicholas. 
 Of course you may I You may always come 
 in. 
 
 (Enter Luba.) 
 
 LuBA. 
 
 Good-morning, Yakov. 
 
 Carpenter. 
 Good-morning, miss. 
 
 Luba. 
 
 (to her father.) Boris has left for the regiment. 
 I'm so afraid he will do or say something he ought 
 not to. What do you think? 
 
 Nicholas. 
 What can I think? He will act according to 
 his conscience. 
 
1381 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 LUBA. 
 
 But that's awful. He has only such a short 
 time to serve now, and he may go and ruin his 
 life. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 
 He did well in not coming to me. He knows 
 I cannot tell him anything beyond what he knows 
 himself. He told me himself that he asked for 
 his discharge because he saw that there could not 
 be a more lawless, cruel, brutal occupation than 
 that which is based on murder. And that there 
 is nothing more humiliating than to obey implicitly 
 any man who happens to be his superior in rank. 
 He knows all this. 
 
 LuBA. 
 That is precisely what Fm afraid of. He 
 knows of all that and he'll be sure to do some- 
 thing. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 His conscience, that God within him, must de- 
 cide that. If he had come to me I should have 
 advised him only one thing, not to act on the dic- 
 tates of reason, but only when his whole being 
 demanded it. There's nothing worse than that. 
 There was I, desiring to do Christ's bidding, 
 which is to leave father, wife, children — and 
 follow Him. And I was on the point of going. 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 139 
 
 And how did that end? It ended by my coming 
 back and living in town, with you, in luxury. 
 That was because I wanted to do something be- 
 yond my strength, and it ended in placing me in a 
 stupid and humiliating position. I want to live 
 simply — to work — and in these surroundings, 
 with footmen and hall porters, it becomes a pose. 
 There, I see Yakov Nikanorovich is laughing at 
 me. 
 
 Carpenter. 
 Why should I laugh? You pay me =^- you 
 give me tea ^-^ I am very grateful to you. 
 
 LuBA. 
 Don't youi think I had better go to him, 
 father? 
 
 Nicholas. 
 My darling, I know how hard it is for you — 
 how terrible ! But you ought not to be frightened. 
 I am a man who understands life. No harm can 
 come of it. All that seems to you bad, really 
 brings joy to the heart. You must understand 
 that a man who chooses that path has had to make 
 a choice. There are circumstances in which the 
 scales balance evenly between God and the devil. 
 And at that moment God's greatest work is being 
 done. Any interference from without is very 
 dangerous, and only brings suffering. It is as 
 
I40 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 though a man were making a great effort to bear 
 down the scale, and the touch of a finger may 
 break his back. 
 
 LuBA. 
 But why suffer? 
 
 Nicholas. 
 It IS the same thing as though a mother should 
 say, " Why suffer? " But a child cannot be born 
 without pain. And so it is with spiritual birth. 
 I can only say one thing — Boris is a true Chris- 
 tian, and therefore free. And if you cannot be 
 like him, if you cannot believe God as he does, 
 then believe God through him. 
 
 Marie. 
 (outside the door,) May I come in? 
 
 Nicholas. 
 Certainly — always. Quite a meeting here to- 
 day. 
 
 Marie. 
 Our priest has come — Vasily Ermilovich. 
 He is on his way to the bishop to resign his cure. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 Not really. Is he here? Luba, call him. He 
 will certainly want to see me. 
 
 {Exit LuBA.y 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 141 
 
 Marie. 
 I came to tell you about Vania. He is behav- 
 ing so badly and will not study, and I am sure he 
 will not pass. I have tried to talk to him but he 
 Is impertinent. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 Masha — *you know I do not sympathise with 
 your mode of life and your ideas of education. 
 It is an awful question whether I have the right to 
 look on and see my children ruined. 
 
 Marie. 
 Then you must offer a definite substitute. 
 What do you propose? 
 
 Nicholas. 
 I cannot say ^ — I can only tell you that the first 
 thing is to get rid of this corrupting luxury. 
 
 Marie. 
 And make peasants of them I That I cannot 
 agree to. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 Then do not ask me. All that upsets you now 
 is inevitable. 
 
 {Enter Father Vasily and em* 
 braces Nicholas Ivanovich.) 
 Then you have really done it I 
 
142 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 Father Vasily. 
 I cannot go on any longer I 
 Nicholas. 
 I did not expect It would come so soon. 
 
 Father Vasily. 
 It had to come. In my vocation one cannot 
 remain Indifferent. I had to confess, to adminis- 
 ter the sacrament; how could I, knowing it to be 
 false I 
 
 Nicholas. 
 And what will happen now? 
 
 Father Vasily. 
 I am going to the bishop to be examined. I 
 am afraid I shall be exiled to the Solavetsky Mon- 
 astery. I thought at one time of running away 
 and going abroad, of asking you to help me, but 
 then I gave up the idea. It would be cowardly. 
 The only thing is — my wife — < 
 
 Nicholas. 
 Where is she? 
 
 Father Vasily. 
 She has gone to her father. My mother-in- 
 law came and took away our son. That hurt. I 
 wanted so much — r (He stops, hardly restrain- 
 ing his tears.) 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 143 
 
 Nicholas. 
 Well, God help you. Are you staying here 
 with us? 
 
 {Enter Alexandra Ivanovna 
 with a letter.) 
 
 Alexandra. 
 A special messenger has brought this for you, 
 Nicholas Ivanovich. How do you do, Father 
 
 iVasily? 
 
 Father Vasily. 
 I am no longer Father Vasily, Alexandra Ivan- 
 ovna. 
 
 Alexandra. 
 Really? Why? 
 
 Father Vasily. 
 I have discovered that we do not believe in the 
 right way. 
 
 Alexandra. 
 Oh dear, oh dear, how sinful ! You are a good 
 man, but what errors you do fall Into. It is all 
 Nicholas Ivanovich's doing. 
 
 Father Vasily. 
 Not Nicholas Ivanovich's, but Christ's. 
 
 Alexandra. 
 Oh, stop, stop! Why leave the fold of the 
 
144 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 Orthodox Church? I know you mean well, but 
 you are ruining your own soul. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 (to himself,) I expected this. What am I to 
 do? 
 
 Alexandra. 
 What IS It? 
 
 Nicholas. 
 (reading,) It is from the Princess. This is 
 what she writes : " Boris has refused to serve and 
 has been arrested. You have been his ruin. It 
 is your duty to save him. He is at the Kroutltsk 
 Barracks.'* Yes, I must go to him, If only they 
 will let me see him. (He takes off his apron, puts 
 his coat on, and goes out.) (Exit alL\ 
 
 Scene II 
 
 'Office. A Clerk sitting. Sentry 'pacing up 
 'and down at opposite door. Enter General 
 with his aide-de-camp. Clerk jumps up. Sen- 
 try salutes, 
 
 Generac. 
 
 Where Is the colonel? 
 
 Clerk. 
 He was asked to go to see the recruit, your 
 excellency. 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 145 
 
 General. 
 Very well. Ask him to come here. 
 
 Clerk. 
 Yes, your excellency. 
 
 General. 
 What are you copying there? The deposition 
 of the recruit? 
 
 Clerk. 
 Yes, your excellency. 
 
 General'. 
 Give It to me. 
 
 (Clerk gives it and goes out.)] 
 
 General". 
 {giving paper to Aide-de-camp.) Read It, 
 please. 
 
 Aide-de-camp. 
 {reading.) " To the questions which were put 
 to me : ( i ) Why I refused to take the oath ; ( 2 ) 
 Why I refused to carry out the demands of the 
 government; and (3) what made me utter words 
 offensive not only to the military body, but to the 
 highest authority, I answer: to the first question: 
 I will not take the oath because I profess the 
 teaching of Christ. In His teaching Christ 
 clearly forbids it, as in the Gospel, Matt. v. 33- 
 37, and the Epistle of James, v. 12." 
 
146 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 General. 
 There they are, discussing and putting their 
 own interpretations on it. 
 
 Aide-de-camp. 
 (continuing.) " It is said in the Gospel Matt. v. 
 37, ' Let your communication be. Yea, yea; Nay, 
 nay: for whatsoever is more than these cometh of 
 evil,' and James, v. 12: ' But above all things, my 
 brethren, swear not, neither by heaven, neither by 
 the earth, neither by any other oath; but let your 
 yea be yea; and your nay, nay; lest ye fall into 
 condemnation.' 
 
 " But even if there were not such explicit pro- 
 hibition of swearing in the Gospel, I would not 
 swear to fulfil the will of men, for according to 
 Christ's teaching I am bound to fulfil the will of 
 God, which may not coincide with the will of 
 men.'* 
 
 General. 
 
 There they are, discussing I If I had my way, 
 such things would not occur. 
 
 Aide-de-camp. 
 (reading.) "And I refuse to comply with the 
 demands of men calling themselves the govern- 
 ment because — " 
 
 General. 
 What impudence I 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 147 
 
 Aide-de-camp. 
 " Because these demands are criminal and 
 wicked. I am required to enter the army, to be 
 prepared and instructed how to murder. This is 
 forbidden by the Old as well as by the New Tes- 
 tament, and, moreover, by my conscience. As to 
 the third question — " 
 
 {Enter CoLONEL with Clerk, 
 General shakes hands with him,). 
 
 Colonel. 
 lYou are reading the deposition? 
 
 General. 
 Yes. Unpardonably impudent. Continue. 
 
 Aide-de-camp. 
 (reading.) "As to the third question, what in- 
 duced me to speak offensively to the Council. I 
 answer, that I was led by my desire to serve God 
 and to denounce shams which are perpetrated in 
 His name. This desire I hope to preserve while 
 I live. That is why — ^ " 
 
 General. 
 Oh, enough of that rubbish ! The question Is, 
 how to root it all out, and prevent him from cor- 
 rupting our men. (To Colonel.) Have you 
 spoken to him? 
 
148 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 Colonel. 
 
 I have been talking to him all this time. I tried 
 to appeal to his conscience, to make him under- 
 stand that he was only making matters worse for 
 himself and that he would not achieve anything 
 by such methods. I spoke to him about his fam- 
 ily. He was very excited, but he stuck to his 
 words. 
 
 GeneraC. 
 It Is Idle to say much to him. We are soldiers ; 
 men of actions, not words. Have him brought 
 here. 
 
 [(Exit Aide-de-camp and Clerk.)^ 
 
 General. 
 (sitting down.) No, colonel. You were wrong. 
 Such fellows must be dealt with in quite another 
 fashion. Strong measures are needed to cut off 
 the offending member. One foul sheep ruins the 
 whole flock. Sentimentality has no place here. 
 His being a prince and having a mother and a 
 fiancee does not concern us. There Is a soldier be- 
 fore us and we must fulfil the will of the Tsar. 
 
 Colonel. 
 I only thought It would be easier to influence 
 him by persuasion. 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 149 
 
 General. 
 Not at all. Firmness, only firmness. I had a 
 case like this once before. He must be made to 
 feel that he is nothing, that he is a grain of sand 
 under the wheel of a chariot, and that he cannot 
 impede its progress. 
 
 Colonel. 
 Well, we can try. 
 
 General. 
 ^(beginning to get angry.) It is not a question of 
 trying. I have nothing to try. I have served my 
 sovereign for forty-four years, have given and am 
 giving my life to the service, and suddenly a boy 
 comes and wants to teach me, and quotes Bible 
 texts. Let him talk that nonsense to the priests. 
 To me he is either a soldier, or a prisoner. That's 
 the end of it. 
 
 {Enter Boris under escort of two 
 soldiers, Aide-de-CAMp follows him 
 in.) 
 
 General. 
 (pointing to Boris with his finger.) Place him 
 there. 
 
 Boris. 
 No necessity whatever to *' place " me any- 
 where. I will stand or sit where I please, for as to 
 your authority over me, I do not — 
 
ISO THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 General. 
 Silence I You don't recognise my authority — 
 I'll make you recognise itl 
 
 Boris. 
 (sits down,) How wrong of you to shout like 
 that! 
 
 General. 
 Lift him up and make him stand I 
 
 (Soldiers raise Boris up.) 
 
 Boris. 
 That you can do. You can kill me, but you can- 
 not force me to obey you. 
 
 General". 
 Silence, I say I Listen to what I say to you. 
 
 Boris. 
 I do not In the least wish to hear what you say. 
 
 General. 
 He Is mad. He must be sent to the hospital 
 to test his sanity. That's the only thing to do 
 with him. 
 
 Colonel. 
 We have orders to send him to the Gendarmerie 
 Department to be questioned. 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 151 
 
 General. 
 Very well — do so. But put him Into uniform. 
 
 Colonel. 
 He refuses to wear It. 
 
 General. 
 Then tie his hands and feet. {To Boris.) 
 Now listen to what I am going to tell you. It Is 
 a matter of perfect Indifference to me what be- 
 comes of you. But for your own sake I would 
 advise you to think It over. You will only rot 
 In the fortress, and be of no use to any one. Give 
 It up. You were excited, and so was I. {Slap- 
 ping him on the shoulder.) Go — take your oath 
 and drop all that nonsense. {To the Aide-de- 
 camp.) Is the priest here? {To Boris.) 
 Well? (Boris is silent.) Why don't you an- 
 swer ? I assure you I'm advising you for your own 
 good. The weakest goes to the wall. You can 
 keep your own Ideas and merely serve your time. 
 We won't be hard on you. Well? 
 
 Boris. 
 I have nothing more to say. I have said every- 
 thing. 
 
 Generae. 
 Just now you said that there were such and such 
 verses In the Gospel. Surely the priests know 
 
152 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 that? You'd better talk that over with the priest, 
 and then think it over. That's surely the best 
 way. Good-bye. I hope to meet you again and 
 be able to congratulate you on your entrance into 
 the service of the Tsar. Send the priest here. 
 
 {Exit General with Colonel 
 and Aide-de-camp. X 
 
 Boris. 
 (to soldiers and Clerk.) You see how they talk. 
 They are perfectly aware themselves that they are 
 deceiving you. Don't give in to them. Throw 
 down your arms. Go away. Let them flog you 
 to death In their disciplinary battalions. Even 
 that is better than to be the slaves of these Im- 
 postors I 
 
 Clerk. 
 No, that's Impossible. How can we get on 
 without the army? It is Impossible. 
 
 Boris. 
 
 We must not reason In that way. We must do 
 just as God desires. And God desires us to — 
 
 Soldier. 
 
 Then why 3o they call It the " Christ-serving 
 Army? " 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 153 
 
 Boris. 
 That is not said anywhere. It's the Invention 
 of these Impostors. 
 
 Soldier. 
 How so ? The bishops must know. 
 
 {Enter Police Officer with 
 Stenographer.) 
 
 Police Officer. 
 {to Clerk.) Is Prince Cheremshanov the re- 
 cruit here? 
 
 Clerk. 
 Yes, sir. There he Is. 
 
 Police Officer. 
 Please step this way. Are you the Prince Boris 
 Cheremshanov who refused to take the oath? 
 
 Boris. 
 I am he. 
 
 {Officer sits down and motions to 
 a seat opposite.) 
 
 Police Officei^. 
 Please sit down. 
 
 Boris. 
 I think there's no use In our talking. 
 
 Police Officer. 
 I don't agree. To you at any rate it may be 
 
154 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 of advantage. You see, I have been informed 
 that you refused military service and refused to 
 take the oath, which raises the suspicion that you 
 belong to the revolutionary party. And this I 
 have to Investigate. If this is true, then we must 
 remove you from military service and either put 
 you In prison or exile you, according to the extent 
 of your participation in the revolutionary move- 
 ment. Otherwise we leave you to the military 
 authorities. Please note that I have told you 
 everything quite frankly, and I trust you will show 
 the same confidence in talking to us. 
 
 Boris. 
 In the first place I cannot have any confidence 
 in those who wear that (pointing to the uniform.) 
 In the second place your very office Is of such a 
 nature that I cannot respect it, but, on the con- 
 trary, despise It from my heart. But I will not 
 refuse to answer your questions. What Is It you 
 want to know ? 
 
 Police Officer. 
 First, please, your name, rank, and religious 
 faith. 
 
 Boris. 
 You know all that, so that I will not answer. 
 Only one of those questions Is of any importance 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 155 
 
 to me. I do not belong to the so-called Orthodox 
 Church. 
 
 Police Officer. 
 Then what Is your religion? 
 
 Boris. 
 I cannot define It. 
 
 Police Officer. 
 Stills 
 
 Boris. 
 Let us say Christian, founded on the Sermon 
 on the Mount. 
 
 Police Officer. 
 Take that down. 
 
 {Stenographer writes.) 
 
 Police Officer. 
 '{to Boris.)' But you acknowledge that you be- 
 long to some state, some class? 
 Boris. 
 I do not admit that. I consider myself a man, 
 a servant of God. 
 
 Police Officer. 
 But why do you not recognise your allegiance 
 to the Russian State? 
 
 Boris. 
 Because I do not recognise the existence of any 
 Jtate. 
 
156 .THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 Police Officer. 
 What do you mean — when you say you do not 
 recognise it? Do you want to destroy it? 
 
 Boris. 
 Most certainly I do, and I work to that end. 
 
 Police Officer. 
 (to Scribe.) Take that down. [{To Boris.)] 
 By what means do you work? 
 
 Boris. 
 By denouncing deceit and lies, and by spread- 
 ing the truth. Just now, the moment before you 
 entered, I was telling these soldiers that they 
 must not believe the deceit in which they are made 
 to share. 
 
 Police Officer. 
 But beside these measures of denunciation and 
 proselytising, do you admit other means? 
 
 Boris. 
 I not only exclude violence, but I consider it 
 the greatest sin, and all underhand actions also. 
 
 Police Officer. 
 (to Scribe.) Take it down. Very good. Now 
 allow me to ask you about your acquaintances, 
 your friends. Do you know Ivashenkov? 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 157 
 
 Boris. 
 No. 
 
 Police Officer. 
 And Klein? 
 
 Boris. 
 I have heard of him, but I have never seen him. 
 
 (Enter Chaplain.) 
 
 Police Officer. 
 Well, I think that is all. I consider that you 
 are not a dangerous person. You do not con- 
 cern our department. I hope you will soon be 
 released. Good-day. {Shakes hands.) 
 
 Boris. 
 There is one thing I should like to say to you. 
 Excuse me, but I cannot resist saying it. Why 
 have you chosen such a bad and wicked calling? 
 I would advise you to leave it. 
 
 Police Officer. 
 (smiling.) Thank you for your advice: I have 
 my reasons. Now, father, I'll give up my place 
 to you. 
 
 ^{The priest, an old man with 
 cross and Testament, steps for- 
 ward. The Scribe advances to 
 receive his blessing.) 
 
158 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 Chaplain. 
 (to Boris.) Why do you grieve your superiors 
 and refuse to perform the duty of a Christian 
 by serving your Tsar and country? 
 
 Boris. 
 (smiling.) It is precisely because I wish to per- 
 form the duties of a Christian that I do not wish 
 to be a soldier. 
 
 Chaplain. 
 Why do you not wish it? It is written, " Lay 
 down your life for your friends." That is the 
 part of a true Christian. 
 
 Boris. 
 Yes, to lay down your own, but not take the 
 life of others. To give up my life is just what 
 I wish. 
 
 Chaplain. 
 You judge wrongly, young man. And what 
 did Jesus Christ say to the soldiers? 
 
 Boris. 
 (smiling.) That only proves that even in His 
 time soldiers plundered, and He forbade them 
 to do so. 
 
 Chaplain. 
 Well — why do you refuse to take the oath? 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 159 
 
 Boris. 
 You know It Is forbidden in the Gospel. 
 
 Chaplain. 
 
 Not at all. How was it that when Pilate said, 
 
 " In the name of God I ask you, are you the 
 
 Christ? " Our Lord Jesus Christ answered, " I 
 
 am He." That proves an oath is not forbidden. 
 
 Boris. 
 Are you not ashamed to say that, you, an old 
 man? 
 
 Chaplain. 
 I advise you not to be obstinate. It Is not for 
 us to change the world. Take the oath, and have 
 done with it. As for what is sin and what Is not 
 sin, leave that for the Church to decide. 
 
 Boris. 
 Leave it to you? Are you not afraid to take 
 such a weight of sin upon your soul? 
 
 Chaplain. 
 What sin? I have always been true to the 
 faith In which I was educated. I have been a 
 priest now for over thirty years; there can be no 
 sin upon my soul. 
 
 Boris. 
 Then whose Is the sin of deceiving so many 
 
i6o THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 people? .You know what their heads are full of. 
 (Points to the sentry.) 
 
 Chaplain. 
 That, young man, is not for us to judge. Our 
 duty Is to obey our superiors. 
 
 Boris. 
 Leave me alone. I pity you, and what you say 
 disgusts me. If you were like that general It 
 would not be so bad. But you come with cross 
 and Bible to try to persuade me In the name of 
 Christ to deny Christ. Go — go! (Excitedly.)] 
 Go. Take me away where I shall see no one. 
 I am tired — I am terribly tired. 
 
 Chaplain. 
 Well, good-bye. 
 
 (Enter Aide-de-camp. Eoris re- 
 tires to hack of scene.) 
 
 Aide-de-camp. 
 WeU? 
 
 Chaplain. 
 Great stubbornness. Great Insubordination. 
 
 Aide-de-camp. 
 He has not consented to take the oath and to 
 serve ? 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS i6r 
 
 Chaplain. 
 Not in the least. 
 
 Aide-de-camp. 
 Then I shall have to take him to the hospital. 
 
 Chaplain. 
 To make out that he Is 111. Of course that's 
 the best way; otherwise his example might be bad 
 for the rest. 
 
 Aide-de-camp. 
 He will be examined In the ward for mental 
 ailments. These are my orders. 
 
 Chaplain. 
 Of course. Good-day. (Exit,)' 
 Aide-de-camp. 
 [(approaching Boris,) Please come with me. I 
 am ordered to escort you. 
 
 Boris. 
 Where to? 
 
 Aide-de-camp. 
 Just for a time, to the hospital, where you will 
 be more comfortable, and will have leisure to 
 think the matter over. 
 
 Boris. 
 
 I have thought it over for some time. But let 
 us go. (Exeunt.)' 
 
1 62 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 Scene III 
 
 Reception-room in the Hospital. 
 
 (Head Physician and House 
 Surgeon and Patients in hospi- 
 tal dress. Warders in blouses.) 
 
 Sick Officer. 
 I tell you, you simply make me worse. There 
 were times when I felt quite well. 
 
 Head Physician. 
 Don't get so excited. I am quite willing to 
 discharge you, but you know yourself that it is 
 unsafe for you to be at liberty. If I knew that 
 you would be taken care of ^-^ 
 
 Sick Officer. 
 ;You think I shall begin to drink again. Oh 
 no I I've learned my lesson. Every additional 
 day spent here is simply killing me. You do just 
 the contrary to what {over excited) should be 
 done. You are cruel. It is all very well for 
 you —   
 
 Head Physician. 
 Calm yourself. {Makes a sign to WARDERS 
 who approach the Officer from behind.)^ 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 163 
 
 Sick Officer. 
 It's all very well for you to talk when you are 
 free. But how do you think I feel here in the 
 company of lunatics? {To Warders.) Why 
 are you coming so near to me? Get away? 
 
 Head Physician. 
 I beg you to be ckpir <uxXvx/^^ » 
 
 Sick Officer. 
 And I beg, I insist on my discharge. {Shrieks^ 
 rushes at doctor. Warders seize him *— a strug- 
 gle — they lead him away.) 
 
 House Surgeon. 
 Same thing all over again. He was on the 
 point of striking you. 
 
 Head Physician. 
 
 Alcoholic subject, and there's nothing to be 
 done for him. Still there is some improvement. 
 
 {Enter Aide-de-camp.) 
 
 Aide-de-camp. 
 Good morning. 
 
 Head Physician. 
 Good morning. 
 
i64 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 Aide-de-camp. 
 
 I have brought you a very interesting case. A 
 certain Prince Cheremshanov was to do his mili- 
 tary service, and refused on the ground of the 
 Gospel. He was handed over to the police, but 
 they found him outside their jurisdiction, and de- 
 cided it was not a political case. The chaplain 
 talked to him, but without the slightest effect. 
 
 Head Physician. 
 
 (laughing,)' And as usual you bring him to us 
 as the last resort. Well, let's have a look at him. 
 
 (Exit House Surgeon.)^ 
 
 Aide-de-camp. 
 They say he is a well-educated fellow, and that 
 he's engaged to a rich girl. It is very strange. I 
 must say the hospital is exactly the right place foi; I 
 him. 
 
 Head Physician. 
 It must be a case of mania f^^ \ 
 
 (Boris h 'Brouglii in,)" 
 
 Good morning. Please sit down. We'll have h 
 a little talk. (To the others.) Leave us alone. I 
 
 (Exeunt all save Boris and Physician.)' I 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 165 
 
 Boris. 
 I would like to ask you, if you are going to 
 shut me up somewhere, to do it as quickly as pos- 
 sible and let me have a rest. 
 
 Head Physician. 
 Excuse me : I must comply with the regulations. 
 I will merely put a few questions to you. How 
 do you feel? From what are you suffering? 
 
 Boris. 
 There's nothing the matter with me. I am 
 perfectly well. 
 
 Head Physician. 
 Yes ; but your conduct is different from the con- 
 duct of others. 
 
 Boris. 
 I am acting according to the dictates of my 
 conscience. 
 
 Head Physician. 
 (You have refused to perform your military 
 duty. What is your motive? 
 
 Boris. 
 I am a Christian, and therefore cannot kill. 
 
 Head Physician. 
 But is it not necessary to protect the country 
 
1 66 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 from foreign enemies, and restrain from evil 
 those who disturb the peace within? 
 
 Boris. 
 
 The country is not attacked by any enemies, 
 and as for disturbers of the peace within her bor- 
 ders, there are more of those within the Govern- 
 ment than among the people towards whom the 
 Government uses violence. 
 
 Head Physician. 
 What do you mean by that? 
 
 Boris. 
 
 I mean that the chief cause of evil — alcohol 
 — is sold by the Government; a false religious 
 creed is spread by the Government; and the very 
 military service, such as I am required to perform, 
 and which is the principal means of corruption in 
 the country, is required by the Government. 
 
 Head Physician. 
 
 Then, according to your views, Government 
 and State are unnecessary. 
 
 Boris. 
 
 I do not know; but I am quite sure I must not 
 participate in these evils. 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 167 
 
 Head Physician. 
 But what will become of the world? We are 
 given a mind with which to look ahead. 
 
 Boris. 
 Yes, and we are also given common sense to see 
 that the organisation of society shall not be 
 founded on violence, but on love, and that the re- 
 fusal of one man to participate in evil has noth- 
 ing dangerous in it — 
 
 Head Physician. 
 Now please let me make an examination. Will 
 you kindly lie down? {Begins to examine him.) 
 Do you feel any pain here ? 
 
 Boris. 
 
 No. 
 
 Head Physician. 
 
 Nor here ? 
 
 Boris. 
 
 No. 
 
 Head Physician. 
 Breathe. Now don't breathe. Thank you. 
 Now allow me. ( Takes out a measure and meas- 
 ures his nose and his forehead.) Now be so kind 
 as to shut your eyes and walk. 
 
1 68 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 Boris. 
 Aren't you ashamed to do all that? 
 
 Head Physician. 
 What? 
 
 Boris. 
 
 All these silly things. You know perfectly 
 well that I'm all right, and have been sent here 
 for refusing to take part in their wickedness, and 
 as they had no arguments to offer in opposition to 
 my truth, they pretend that they think me abnor- 
 mal. And you aid them in that! That is des- 
 picable and disgraceful. You'd better stop it. 
 
 Head Physician. 
 Then you do not wish to walk?. 
 
 Boris. 
 
 No, I do not. You may torment me as much 
 as you like. That is your business. But I do not 
 wish to help you in it. {Vehemently,) Stop it, 
 I say! 
 
 (Head Physician presses a hut- 
 ton. Two Warders enter.) 
 
 Head Physician. 
 Be calm, please. I quite understand that your 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 169 
 
 nerves are rather over-strained. Would you not 
 like to go to your quarters? 
 
 {Enter House Surgeon.) 
 
 House Surgeon. 
 Visitors have come for Cheremshanov. 
 
 Boris. 
 Who are they? 
 
 House Surgeon. 
 Sarintsev and his daughter. 
 
 Boris. 
 I should like to see them. 
 
 Head Physician. 
 I have no objection. Ask them in. iYou may 
 receive them here. 
 
 {Enter Nicholas Ivanovich and 
 LuBA. Princess Cheremshanova 
 puts her head into the door, saying, 
 " Go in, ril come later J') 
 
 LuBA. 
 {goes straight to BoRis^ takes his face between 
 her hands, and kisses him.) Poor Boris! 
 
 Boris. 
 
 No, don't pity me. I feel so well — so happy. 
 
I70 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 I am so easy In my mind. (To Nicholas Ivan- 
 OVICH.) How do you do? {Embraces him.) 
 
 Nicholas. 
 
 I came to tell you something Important. In 
 the first place, It Is worse In such cases to overdo 
 it than to do too little; in the second place, you 
 must act according to the Gospel, taking no 
 thought as to your future words and acts. When 
 taken before the authorities *' think not what ye 
 shall say, for the Holy Ghost will 'teach you in 
 that hour what ye ought to say.'* The moment 
 to act is not when your reason dictates this or 
 that, but only when your whole being determines 
 your action. ^ 
 
 Boris. 
 That's just what I did. I did not think I 
 should refuse to serve. But when I saw all this 
 falsehood, the emblem of justice, the documents, 
 the police, and the members of the Council smok- 
 ing — I could not help speaking as I did. It 
 seemed a terrible thing to do, but only till I began. 
 Then all became so simple and delightful. 
 
 (Luba sits weeping.) 
 
 Nicholas. 
 Above all, do nothing for the sake of the praise 
 of men, or in order to please those whose esteem 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 171 
 
 you value. As for myself, I tell you honestly that 
 if you took the oath this moment and entered the 
 army, I would love and respect you no less; pos- 
 sibly even more than before, because it is not 
 what is done in the world that is of value, but 
 what is done within the soul. 
 
 Boris. 
 That is certainly so, because if a thing is done 
 within the soul, it will bring about a change in 
 the world. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 Well, I have said what I had to say. Your 
 mother is here, and she is quite broken-hearted. 
 If you can do what she desires, do it. That Is 
 what I wanted to tell you. 
 
 (In the corridor frightful scream- 
 ing of the lunatics. One lunatic 
 bursts into the room. Warders fol- 
 low and drag him away.)^ 
 
 LUBA. 
 
 This IS dreadful! And you will have to be 
 here I {Weeps.) 
 
 Boris. 
 This doesn't frighten me. Nothing frightens 
 me now. I feel at peace. The only thing that I 
 
172 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 fear is your attitude to all this. Help me — Fm 
 sure you will help me. 
 
 LUBA. 
 
 How can I be glad? 
 
 Nicholas. 
 Be glad. That is Impossible. Neither am I 
 glad. I suffer for him and would willingly take 
 his place. But I am suffering, and yet I know 
 that it is for the best. 
 
 LuBA. 
 For the best ! When will they let him go ? 
 
 Boris. 
 No one knows. I am not thinking about the 
 future; the present is joyful. And you could 
 make it still more so. 
 
 {Enter Princess.) 
 
 Princess. 
 I can wait no longer. ( To Nicholas Ivano- 
 VICH.) Well, have you persuaded him? Are 
 you willing, Boris darling? You must know how 
 I have suffered. Thirty years of my life have 
 been given to you. To bring you up and be so 
 proud of you, and then when all is ready and fin- 
 ished, suddenly to give up everything. Prison, 
 disgrace I No, Boris r^ 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 173 
 
 Boris. 
 Listen, mother. 
 
 Princess. 
 (to Nicholas Ivanovich.) Why don't you 
 say something? You have brought about his 
 ruin, and you ought to persuade him. It's all 
 very well for you. Luba, speak to him! 
 
 LUBA. 
 
 What can I do? 
 
 Boris. 
 
 Mother, try to understand that some things are 
 impossible. Just as it is impossible to fly, so it 
 Is impossible for me to serve in the army. 
 
 Princess. 
 You only imagine you cannot! It's all non- 
 sense. Others have served, and are serving now. 
 You and Nicholas Ivanovich have invented a new 
 Christian creed that Is not Christian at all. It ls_ 
 a^ diabolical creed^ that causes suffering to every 
 one around you. 
 
 Boris. 
 So it is written in the Gospel. 
 
 Princess. 
 Nothing of that sort is said. And if it is, it's 
 
174 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 simply stupid. Boris darling, spare me I \Falls 
 on his neck and sobs.) My whole life has been 
 full of sorrow. You have been my only gleam 
 of gladness, and now you turn it into anguish. 
 Boris, have pity I 
 
 Boris. 
 It is very, very painful to me, mother, but I 
 cannot promise you that. 
 
 Princess. 
 Do not refuse. Say you will try I 
 
 Nicholas. 
 Say you will think it over, and do think it over. 
 
 Boris. 
 Very well - — I will do that. But have pity on 
 me, also, mother. It is hard for me too. 
 
 [{Again "desperate screams in a corridor,^ 
 
 I am in a lunatic asylum, you see, and I may lose 
 my reason. 
 
 (Enter Head Physician.) 
 
 Head Physician. 
 Madame, this may have the worst results. 
 Your son is in a very excited state. I think we 
 had better consider the visit at an end. The reg- 
 ular visiting day is Thursday before twelve. 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 175 
 
 Princess. 
 Well, well, I will go. Good-bye, Boris. Only 
 do think It over. Spare me, and on Thursday 
 meet me with good news. (Kisses him,) - 
 
 Nicholas. 
 (shaking hands with him.) Think it over, with 
 God's help, as If to-morrow you were going to die. 
 That Is the only way to make the right decision. 
 Good-bye. 
 
 Boris. 
 [(approaching LuBA.) What are you going to 
 say to me? 
 
 LUBA. 
 
 What can I say? I cannot be untruthful. I 
 do not understand why you torture yourself and 
 others. I do not understand, and there is noth- 
 ing I can say. (Weeps,) 
 
 [(They all go,) 
 
 Boris. 
 (alone.y Oh, how difficult, how difficult It is I 
 God help me! 
 
 (Enter Warders with hospital attire,) 
 
 Warder. 
 Will you please put this on? 
 
 Boris. 
 (begins to change — then.) No, I will not! 
 (They change his garments by force,) 
 
ACT ly 
 
 Scene I 
 
 Moscow. ^A year has passed since the third 
 act. Big drawing-room with piano arranged for 
 dancing party in Sarintsev's house. Footman ar- 
 ranges flowers in front of piano, A Christmas 
 tree, 
 
 {Enter Marie Ivanovna in ele- 
 gant silk dress, with Alexandra 
 Ivanovna.) 
 
 Marie. 
 
 It isn't a ball. It is only a small dance. A 
 party, as we used to say, for the young people. I 
 can't let my children go out to dances and never 
 give a party myself. 
 
 Alexandra. 
 I'm afraid Nicholas will be displeased. 
 
 Marie. 
 
 What can I do? {To Footman.) Put it 
 here. Heaven knows I do not want to grieve 
 him. But I think he is less exacting now, on the 
 whole. 
 
 176 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 177 
 
 Alexandra. 
 Oh no I Only he does not talk about It. He 
 seemed quite upset when he went to his room 
 after dinner. 
 
 Marie. 
 But what Is to be done? what Is to be done? 
 We must all live. There are six children, and If 
 I did not provide some amusement for them at 
 home, Heaven knows what they would do. At 
 any rate, I am happy about Luba. 
 
 Alexandra. 
 Has he proposed? 
 
 Marie. 
 Practically. He has spoken to her and she has 
 accepted him. 
 
 Alexandra. 
 That win be another awful blow for him. 
 
 Marie. 
 But he knows. He cannot help knowing. 
 
 Alexandra. 
 He does not like him. 
 
 Marie. 
 {to Footman.) Put the fruit on the side-board. 
 Whom do you mean? Alexis MIkhallovIch? 
 
178 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 Of course not, for he is the embodied negation of 
 all his theories — a man of the world, nice, kind, 
 agreeable. Oh, that awful nightmare of Boris 
 Cheremshanov I How is he now? 
 
 Alexandra. 
 Lisa has been to see him. He's still there. 
 She says he has grown very thin, and the doctors 
 are anxious about his life or reason. 
 
 Marie. 
 He is a victim of his dreadful theories. His 
 life ruined — to what end? It certainly was not 
 my wish. 
 
 {Enter PiANiST.) 
 You have come to play for the dancing? 
 
 Pianist. 
 Yes, I am the pianist. 
 
 Marie. 
 
 Please sit down and wait. Will you have some 
 tea? 
 
 Pianist. 
 No, thank you. {Goes to piano,) 
 
 Marie. 
 I never wished it. I was fond of Boris. But 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 179 
 
 of course he was no match for Luba, especially 
 after taking up with Nicholas's ideas. 
 
 Alexandra. 
 Still, his strength of conviction is extraordinary. 
 iWhat agony he has been through! They tell 
 him that if he will not give in he must stay where 
 he is or else be sent to the fortress, and he gives 
 them but one answer. And Lisa says he's so 
 happy, even merry. 
 
 Marie. 
 Fanatic! Oh, there's Alexis Mikhailovich ! 
 
 {Enter the brilliant Alexis 
 Mikhailovich Starkovsky in 
 evening dress.) 
 
 Starkovsky. 
 I have come early. {Kisses the hands of both 
 ladies. ) 
 
 Marie. 
 So much the better. 
 
 Starkovsky. 
 And Lubov Nicolaevna ? She said she was go- 
 ing to dance a lot to make up for what she had 
 missed. I volunteered to help her. 
 
 Marie. 
 She is arranging the favours for the cotillion. 
 
1 80 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 Starkovsky. 
 ril go and help her. May I? 
 
 Marie. 
 Certainly. 
 
 (Starkovsky turns to go, and 
 meets Luba coming toward him car- 
 rying a cushion on which are stars 
 and ribbons, LuBA in evening 
 dress, not low-necked,) 
 
 Luba. 
 Oh, there you are! That's right. Do help 
 me. There are two more cushions In the draw- 
 ing-room, bring them here. How do you do! 
 How do you do I 
 
 Starkovsky. 
 I am off I {Goes.) 
 
 Marie. 
 {to Luba.) Listen, Luba. To-night our guests 
 are sure to make Insinuations and ask questions. 
 May we announce It? 
 
 Luba. 
 No, mother, no. Why? Let them ask. It 
 would grieve father. 
 
 Marie. 
 But he must know, or at least guess. And we 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS i8i 
 
 shall have to tell him sooner or later. I really 
 think It Is best to announce It to-night. It Is a 
 farcical secret. 
 
 LUBA. 
 
 No, no, mother — please I It would spoil the 
 whole evening. No, don't I 
 
 Marie. 
 [Very well, as you like. 
 
 LUBA. 
 Or, anyhow, not till the end of the evening, 
 just before supper. (Calling out,) Well, are 
 you bringing them?) 
 
 Marie. 
 I will go and see to Natasha. 
 
 (Exit with Anna Ivanovna.) 
 
 Starkovsky. 
 
 (brings three cushions ^ the top one under his chin, 
 and lets something drop.) Don't you trouble, 
 Lubov Nicolaevna. I'll pick them up. I say, 
 what a lot of favours you've got! The thing is 
 to distribute them properly! Vania, come here. 
 
 (Enter Vania^ carrying more fa^ 
 vours,) 
 
1 82 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 Vania. 
 That's the last of them. Luba, Alexis Mik- 
 hallovlch and I have got a bet on as to who will 
 get most favours. 
 
 Starkovsky. 
 It's very easy for you. You know everybody, 
 so you are sure of theirs in advance. I must win 
 the girls before I can get any favours at all. So 
 I have a handicap of forty points, you see. 
 
 Vania. 
 But you are grown up, and Vm only a boy. 
 
 Starkovsky. 
 Fm not very grown up, and so I am worse than 
 a boy. 
 
 Luba. 
 Vania, please go to my room and bring me the 
 paste and my needle-case; they're on the shelf. 
 But for mercy's sake don't break the watch there. 
 
 Vania. 
 {running of.) I'll break everything. 
 
 Starkovsky. 
 (takes Luba's hand.) May I, Luba? I am so 
 happy. (Kisses her hand.) The mazurka is 
 mine, but that isn't enough. There isn't time in 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 183 
 
 the mazurka to say much, and I have a great deal 
 to say. May I telegraph to my people and tell 
 them you have accepted me and how happy I am ? 
 
 LUBA. 
 
 Yes, you can do it to-night. 
 
 Starkovsky. 
 One word more. How will Nicholas Ivano- 
 vich take the news ? Have you told him ? Have 
 you told him? Yes? 
 
 LuBA. 
 No, I have not, but I will. He will take it just 
 as he takes everything now that concerns his fam- 
 ily. He will say, '' Do as you like." But in his 
 heart he will be grieved. 
 
 Starkovsky. 
 Because I am not Cheremshanov — because I 
 am a chamberlain, a marshal of nobility? 
 
 LUBA. 
 
 Yes. But I have tried to fight against myself 
 r — to deceive myself for his sake. And it is not 
 because I do not love him that I do not follow his 
 wishes, but because I cannot act a lie. And he 
 says himself that one should not. I long to live 
 my own life! 
 
1 84 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 Starkovsky. 
 Life Is the only truth there Is. What has be- 
 come of Cheremshanov? 
 
 LUBA. 
 
 (agitated.) Do not talk to me about him. I 
 want to find fault with him even when he is suffer- 
 ing. I know It Is because I am to blame about 
 him. But one thing I do know: that there Is 
 such a thing as love — real love ^-^ and that I 
 never had for him. 
 
 Starkovsky. 
 Do you really mean It, Luba ? 
 
 LUBA. 
 
 You want me to say that It is you that I love 
 with a real love? I will not say that. I cer- 
 tainly love you. . . . But it is a different kind of 
 love. Neither of them is the real thing. If I 
 could only put them both together. . . • 
 
 Starkovsky. 
 Oh no, Tm quite content with mine. [{Kisses 
 her hand.) Luba I 
 
 LuBA. 
 (moving from him.) No; we must talk this 
 over. You see, the guests are beginning to ar- 
 rive. 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 185. 
 
 {Enter Countess with. Xonia 
 and a younger girL), 
 Mother will be here directly. 
 
 Countess. 
 We are the first then? 
 
 Starkovsky. 
 Somebody must be first. I offered to make an 
 india-rubber lady to be the first arrival. 
 
 {Enter Stephen with Vania, 
 who brings the paste and needles,) ^ 
 
 Stephen. 
 {to ToNiA.) I hoped to see you last night at thp 
 Italian opera. 
 
 TONIA. 
 
 We were at my aunt's, sewing for the poor. 
 
 {Enter Students, Ladies, and 
 Marie Ivanovna.)^ 
 
 Countess. 
 {to Marie Ivanovna.) Shall we not see Nich- 
 olas Ivanovich? 
 
 Marie. 
 No; he never leaves his rooms. 
 
 Stephen. 
 How did Cheremshanov's affair end? 
 
1 86 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 Marie. 
 He IS still in the asylum, poor boy. 
 
 Countess. 
 What obstinacy! 
 
 One of the Guests. 
 What an extraordinary delusion I What good 
 can come of It? 
 
 Student. 
 Take your partners for tfie quadrille, please I 
 
 (Claps his hands. They take up 
 their positions and dance. Enter 
 Alexandra Ivanovna, and walks 
 up to her sister.) 
 
 Alexandra. 
 He IS frightfully excited. He has been to see 
 Boris, and on returning he saw the dancing going 
 on. He wants to go away. I went up to his 
 door, and heard his conversation with Alexander 
 Petrovich. 
 
 Marie. 
 What did they say? 
 
 Voice from the Dance. 
 Rond des dames, Les cavaliers en avant. 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 187 
 
 Alexandra. 
 He has made up his mind that he cannot pos- 
 sibly continue to live here, and he is going away. 
 
 Marie. 
 XVhat a torment that man is! 
 
 {Exit Marie Ivanovna.) 
 
 Scene II 
 
 Nicholas Ivanovich's room. Music is 
 heard from afar. He has his coat on, and puts a 
 letter on the table. With him is a tramp, Alex- 
 ander Petrovich, in rags, 
 
 Alexander. 
 Don't be uneasy. We can get to the Caucasus 
 without a penny; and when we are once there you 
 can arrange matters. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 We will take the train to Tula, and then we 
 will go on foot. Now, we're ready. {Puts the 
 letter in the middle of the table, and goes to- 
 wards the door. Meets Marie Ivanovna, who 
 enters.) 
 
 Nicholas. 
 What have you come for? 
 
1 88 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 Marie. 
 To see what you are doing. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 I am suffering terribly. 
 
 Marie. 
 What have I come for? Not to let you do a 
 cruel thing. Why do you do it? What have I 
 done? 
 
 Nicholas. 
 Why? Because I cannot go on living like this; 
 I cannot endure this horrible life of depravity I 
 
 Marie. 
 But this is awful. You call my life, which I 
 devote to you and to the children, depraved! 
 {Noticing the presence of Alexander Petro- 
 VICH.) Renvoyez an moins cet homme. Je ne 
 veux pas qv!il soit temoin de cette conversation. 
 
 Alexander. 
 
 {in broken French.) Comprenez toujour s mot 
 parte, 
 
 Nicholas. 
 Wait for me outside, Alexander Petrovich. I 
 will come directly. 
 
 ■{Exit Alexander Petrovich.)^ 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS (189 
 
 Marie. 
 What can you have in common with that man? 
 Why he is more to you than your wife passes all 
 comprehension. Where do you intend to go? 
 
 Nicholas. 
 I was leaving a letter for you. I did not want 
 to talk about it. It is too painful. But if you 
 wish I will try to tell you calmly what is in it. 
 
 Marie. 
 No; I absolutely cannot understand why you 
 hate and punish the wife who has given up every- 
 thing for you. Can you say that I go out into 
 society, that I love dress or flirtations ? No ! my 
 whole life has been devoted to my family. I 
 nursed all my children myself; I brought them 
 up myself; and during these last years the whole 
 burden of their education and all the manage- 
 ment of our affairs has fallen on me. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 
 '(interrupting.y But all the weight of that Bur- 
 den is due to your refusal to lead the life I pro- 
 posed. 
 
 Marie. 
 
 But what you proposed was impossible. AsK 
 anybody! I could not let the children grow up 
 
I90 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 illiterate, as you desired; and I could not do the 
 cooking and the washing with my own hands. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 I never asked you to. 
 
 Marie. 
 Well, something very like it. You call your- 
 self a Christian, and you want to do good in the 
 world. You say you love humanity. Then why 
 do you torment the woman who has given her 
 whole life to you? 
 
 Nicholas. 
 In what way am I tormenting you? I love 
 you, but — 
 
 Marie. 
 Is it not tormenting me to leave me and to go 
 away? What will all the world say? One of 
 the two — either that I am a bad, wicked woman, 
 or that you are mad. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 Let them say I am mad then. I cannot live 
 like this. 
 
 Marie. 
 Why IS it so terrible that I should give a party? 
 * — the only one during the whole season, for fear 
 of grieving you? I only did it because every one 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 191 
 
 said it was a necessity. Ask Mary, ask Varvara 
 Vasillevna. You treat this as a crime, and make 
 me suffer disgrace for it. It is not so much the 
 disgrace I mind. The worst of it is that you do 
 not love me — you love the whole world, even 
 that drunkard Alexander Petrovich. . . . 
 But I still love you — I cannot live without you. 
 What have I done? what have I done? {She 
 weeps,) 
 
 Nicholas. 
 
 You will not understand my life r-^ my spiritual 
 life. 
 
 Marie. 
 
 I do want to, but I can't. I only see that your 
 idea of Christianity makes you hate your family, 
 and hate me. Why, I do not understand. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 But others understand. 
 
 Marie. 
 Who? Alexander Petrovich, who gets money 
 from you? 
 
 Nicholas. 
 He and Ermllovlch, Tonia, and Vasily. But 
 that is immaterial. If no one understood, it 
 would alter nothing. 
 
 Marie. 
 Vasily Ermilovich has repented, and has re- 
 
i9« iTHE LIGHT THAT 
 
 turned to his parish, and at this very moment 
 Tonia Is dancing and flirting with Stephen. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 I am very sorry. But this cannot make black 
 white, nor can It change my life. Masha, you 
 do not need me — let me go I I have tried to 
 take part In your life — to bring Into It the thing 
 that Is life to me — but It cannot be done. The 
 only result Is that I torture both you and myself; 
 and It is not only torture to me, but It ruins 
 everything I attempt. Everybody — even that 
 very Alexander Petrovlch — has the right to say, 
 and does say, that I am an Impostor: that I say 
 one thing and do another; that I preach the pov- 
 erty of Christ and live In luxury, under cover of 
 having given everything to my wife. 
 
 Marie. 
 Then you are ashamed of yourself before the 
 world? Are you not above that J 
 
 Nicholas. 
 
 It Is not that I am ashamed of myself — though 
 I certainly am — but that I am hindering the work 
 of God. 
 
 Marie. 
 
 You say yourself that the work of God goes on 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 193 
 
 in spite of all opposition. But leaving that aside, 
 tell me what you want me to do. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 I have told you. 
 
 Marie. 
 But, Nicholas, you know that that is impossi- 
 ble. Think of it. Luba Is just going to be mar- 
 ried, Vania has entered the university, and Missie 
 and Katia are at school : how could I interrupt all 
 that? 
 
 Nicholas. 
 But I? What am I to do? 
 
 Marie. 
 Practise what you preach: endure and love. 
 Is that so difficult? Only put up with us — do 
 not deprive us of yourself I What is It that dis- 
 tresses you so? 
 
 (Vania rushes in,) 
 
 Vania. 
 Mother, you are wanted. 
 
 Marie. 
 Say I can't come. Go; go away, 
 
 Vania. 
 Please come! 
 
 \Exit.) 
 
194 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 Nicholas. 
 You will not see my point of view, and under- 
 stand me. 
 
 Marie. 
 I only wish I could. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 
 No, you do not wish to understand; and we are 
 growing further and further apart. Put yourself 
 in my place for a moment and think, and you 
 will understand. In the first place, life here is 
 depraved — such words anger you, but I can use 
 no other when speaking of a life founded on rob- 
 bery — because the money you live on comes from 
 the land you have stolen from the people. Be- 
 sides, I see how the children are being corrupted 
 by it. " Woe to him who offends one of these 
 little ones ! " — and before my very eyes I see my 
 children ruined and corrupted. Ndr can I bear 
 to see grown men dressed up in swallow-tailed 
 coats serving us as though they were slaves. 
 Every meal is a misery. 
 
 Marie. 
 
 But it has always been so. It is so in all 
 houses — abroad and everywhere. 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 195 
 
 Nicholas. 
 
 Since I have realised that we are all brothers, 
 I cannot look on without pain. 
 
 Marie. 
 
 It is your own fault. One can imagine any- 
 thing. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 
 (hotly.) This want of understanding is awful. 
 To-day I spent the morning among the scavengers 
 in the Rijanov Night Lodgings. I saw a child 
 dying of starvation; a boy that had become a 
 drunkard; a consumptive laundress going to rinse 
 her linen in the river: and I come home and a 
 footman in a white tie opens my front door to me. 
 I hear my son, a young boy, tell that footman to 
 bring him a glass of water, and I see a regiment 
 of servants that work for us. Then I go to 
 Boris, ^ho is giving up his life for the truth, and 
 I see this pure, strong, resolute man deliberately 
 driven to madness and to death In order that they 
 may get rid of him. I know, and they know, that 
 he has organic heart trouble; and they provoke 
 him, and then put him among raving maniacs! 
 Oh, it is awful ! And now I return home to learn 
 that my daughter- — the only one of my family 
 who understood not me, but the truth — has 
 
196 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 thrown over both the truth and the man she was 
 engaged to, and had promised to love, and is go- 
 ing to marry a flunkey — a liar. 
 
 Marie. 
 What a very Christian sentiment I 
 
 Nicholas. 
 Yes, It Is wrong. I am to blame, But I want 
 you to enter Into my feeling. I only say that she 
 has repudiated the truth. 
 
 Marie. 
 You say the truth. The rest, the majority, say 
 error. Vasily Ermllovlch thought he had gone 
 astray, but now he returned to the Church. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 It Is impossible. 
 
 Marie. 
 He wrote all about It to Lisa, and she will 
 show you the letter. These things do not last. 
 It's the same with Tonia, not to mention Alex- 
 ander Petrovlch, who simply finds it profitable. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 (getting angry.) That Is Immaterial. I only 
 want you to understand me. I still consider that 
 truth remains truth. It is painful to me to come 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 197 
 
 home and see a Christmas tree, a ball, hundreds 
 squandered when others are dying of hunger. I 
 can not live like this! Have mercy on me! I 
 am worn out. Let me go I Good-bye. 
 Marie. 
 If you go, I go with you; and If not with you, I 
 will throw myself under your train. Let them all 
 perish — all — MIssIe — Katia — all of them. 
 My God, my God, what anguish! Why Is It? 
 
 {Sohhing.) 
 Nicholas. 
 {calling at the door.) Alexander Petrovlch! 
 Go. I shall not go with you. I shall stay. 
 {Takes of his coat.) 
 
 Marie. 
 We have not much longer to live. Do not let 
 us spoil our life after twenty-eight years together. 
 I will not give any more parties, but do not pain 
 me so! 
 
 (Vania and Katia rush in.) 
 Both. 
 Mother, come quick! 
 
 Marie. 
 Fm coming — I'm coming! Then let us for- 
 give each other. 
 
 {Exeunt Marie Ivanovna and 
 Children.) 
 
198 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 Nicholas. 
 (alone.) A child — a perfect child! Or — a 
 cunning woman I Ah, yes — a cunning child. 
 That is It I O Thou dost not desire me for Thy 
 servant. Thou wouldest humiliate me that all 
 should point at me and say, " He talks but he does 
 not act." I submit. He knows best what He de- 
 sires. Humility, simplicity. Oh I if I could only 
 raise myself to Him. {Enter Lisa.) 
 
 Lisa. 
 Excuse me: I came to bring you a letter from 
 Vasily Ermilovich. It was written to me, but 
 he wanted me to tell you about it. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 Is It really true then? 
 
 Lisa. 
 Yes. Read what he says. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 Will you read It to me? 
 
 Lisa. 
 (reading.) "I am writing to ask you to com- 
 municate this to Nicholas Ivanovich. I pro- 
 foundly regret the error which made me openly 
 renounce the Holy Orthodox Church, and I re- 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 199 
 
 joice in my return. I wish the same for you and 
 for Nicholas Ivanovich, and I ask your forgive- 
 ness." 
 
 Nicholas. 
 
 They have driven the poor man to this, but still 
 it is terrible. 
 
 Lisa. 
 I wanted to tell you also that the Princess has 
 come. She came into my room in a terrible state 
 of excitement, and says she must see you. She 
 has just come from Boris. I think you had bet- 
 ter not see her. What good could it do? 
 
 Nicholas. 
 No, call her in. Evidently this is to be a ter- 
 rible day of trial. 
 
 Lisa. 
 
 Then I'll call her. (Exit.) 
 
 Nicholas. 
 (alone.) Oh, just to remember that life consists 
 in serving Thee! To remember that if Thou 
 sendest trials to me, it is that Thou thinkest that 
 I am able to bear them; that they are not above 
 my strength, otherwise it would not be a trial. 
 Father, help me — help me to do Thy will, and 
 not my own. 
 
 (Enter Princess.) 
 
200 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 Princess. 
 Oh, so you have admitted me — ^you have 
 deigned to receive me. I will not shake your 
 hand, because I hate and despise you. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 What has happened? 
 
 Princess. 
 
 Just this! He Is being transferred to the dis- 
 ciplinary battalion, and It Is your doing. 
 
 Nicholas. 
 
 Princess, If you want anything, tell me what It 
 Is. If you have only come to abuse me, you are 
 merely doing yourself harm. As for me, you 
 cannot offend me, because I sympathise with you, 
 and pity you with all my soul. 
 
 Princess. 
 How charitable! Sublime Christianity 1 No, 
 Monsieur Sarintsev, you cannot deceive me. I 
 know you now. It Is nothing to you that you 
 have ruined my son, and here you are giving balls. 
 Your daughter, who is engaged to my son. Is 
 about to make a match of which you approve, 
 while you pretend to lead the simple life — you 
 play at carpentering. How hateful you are to 
 me, with your pharisalcal life I 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 201 
 
 Nicholas. 
 Calm yourself, Princess, and tell me what you 
 want. You have not come simply to abuse me. 
 
 Princess. 
 Yes, partly. I had to pour out my anguish. 
 What I want of you is this : they are sending him 
 to the disciplinary battalion, and I cannot bear 
 that. And it is you who have done It' — you- — ; 
 you — you I 
 
 Nicholas. 
 
 Not I — God has done It. And God knows 
 how I pity you. Do not set yourself in opposi- 
 tion to the will of God. He Is testing you. Bear 
 It humbly. 
 
 Princess. 
 
 I cannot bear It humbly. My son Is all the 
 world to me, and you have taken him from me 
 and have ruined him. I cannot accept it quietly. 
 I have come to you, and I tell you again, and for 
 the last time, that you have brought about his 
 ruin, and you must save him. Go and obtain his 
 release — go to the authorities, to the Tsar, to 
 whomever you will. It is your duty. If you 
 will not, I know what I shall do. You will an- 
 swer to me for what you have done. 
 
202 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 Nicholas. 
 Tell me what I am to do. I am willing to do 
 all I can. 
 
 Princess. 
 I repeat once more, you must save him. If you 
 do not — remember. Good-bye. (Exit.) 
 
 (Nicholas lies down on the sofa. 
 Silence. Pause. Music of '' Gross- 
 vater's Tanz '' is distinctly heard.) 
 
 Stephen. 
 Father isn't here. Come on. 
 
 {Enter chain of dancers, adults 
 and children.) 
 
 LuBA. 
 {seeing her father.) Oh, you are here! I beg 
 your pardon I 
 
 Nicholas. 
 {rising.) Never mind. 
 
 {Chain goes through the room and 
 out at the other door.) 
 
 {alone.) Vasily Ermilovlch has returned to the 
 Church. Boris is ruined through me. Luba will 
 marry. Is it possible that I am mistaken — mis- 
 taken in believing Thee? Ah no! Father, help 
 me I 
 
ACT V 
 
 Scene I 
 
 A cell in the Disciplinary Battalion. — Prison- 
 ers sitting or lying about. — BORIS reading the 
 Gospel and making comments. 
 
 A man who has been flogged led out from this 
 cell. — " Oh, why Is there not another Pugachev 
 to avenge us? '* 
 
 Princess rushes In. — She is turned out. — 
 Struggle with an officer. 
 
 Prisoners ordered to prayers. 
 
 Boris sent to the dungeon, and sentenced to he 
 flogged. 
 
 Scene II 
 
 The Czar's Study. — Cigarettes. — Jokes. — 
 Blandishments. — Princess is announced. — Or- 
 dered to wait. 
 
 Cringing Petitioners. 
 
 Then enter Princess. — Request refused. 
 
 {Exeunt.) 
 
 Scene III 
 
 Marie IvANOVNA. — Speak zvith doctor of ill- 
 ness of Nicholas Ivanovich. — He has changed, is 
 very mild, but dejected. 
 203 
 
7 
 
 204 THE LIGHT THAT 
 
 Nicholas Ivanovich enters with doctor. — 
 Treatment is futile. — The soul is more important, 
 but I consent for the sake of my wife. {Enter 
 ToNiA with Stephen, Luba with Starkovsky.) 
 Talk of the land. Nicholas Ivanovich tries 
 not to offend the others. {All go.) 
 
 Nicholas. 
 {alone with Lisa.) I am in a state of continual 
 vacillation. Have I done right? I have 
 achieved nothing. I have ruined Boris. Vasily 
 Ermilovich has returned to the Church. I am an 
 example of weakness. I see God did not want 
 me to be His servant. He has many other serv- 
 ants. They will do the right thing without me. 
 To see that clearly is to obtain peace of mind. 
 (Lisa goes. — He prays.) 
 
 Princess dashes in and kills him.- — All rush 
 in. — He says he did it himself accidentally. — 
 Writes petition to the Tsar. 
 
 Enter Vasily Ermilovich with Dukhohors, 
 — Nicholas Ivanovich dies rejoicing that the 
 falsehoods of the Church are broken down. — He 
 realises the meaning of his life. 
 
 Alternative for Last Scene. 
 
 Letter from Boris full of desperate agitation. 
 " I know — I have also passed through that." 
 
SHINES IN DARKNESS 205 
 
 Liberals.' — A professor from the height of 
 his superiority forgives and explains. 
 
 A Liberal society lady, wearing diamonds, pres- 
 ent. — 
 
 " They are unable to understand. It will take 
 a hundred years for them to do so." 
 
FOURTEEN, DAYHUSE 
 
 RETURN TOp^SK'^OM WHICH BORROWED 
 
 ::COAN , PEPJ. 
 
 This book IS due on the last oate stamped below, or 
 
 on the date to which renewed. 
 
 Renewed books are subject to immediate recall. 
 
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