Triveni Journal
1927 | 11,233,916 words
Triveni is a journal dedicated to ancient Indian culture, history, philosophy, art, spirituality, music and all sorts of literature. Triveni was founded at Madras in 1927 and since that time various authors have donated their creativity in the form of articles, covering many aspects of public life....
MAHARSHI TOLSTOY AND HIS BIRCH TREES
(A Parable)
Count Leo Tolstoy, who was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, led the dissipated life of a rich youth, won laurels as a soldier, wrote such magnificent work that he came to be considered the nonpareil in literature, inherited ancestral property and deveÂloped it and married and tasted the bliss of domestic life to his heart’s content came to experience profound world-weariness in his middle age. He grew so sick of life that he began to feel that he could find peace only in the grave. Tolstoy who had been brought up in a family with traditional orthodoxy grew reflective in his youth, succumbed to doubts and was convinced that was no God. But he realised that life was impossible on such a premise and concluded that the common man’s way of thinking was the only right one.
Those who live in the lap of luxury and who arc blessed with good health are dissatisfied and are miserable, but humbler people toiling in penury or suffering ill health accept life cheerfully. The latter’s is the right attitude; life is divine; acceptance is wisdom. It seemed to the Count that this was the Eternal, Unchanging truth.
Wealthy people like himself kept these simple people in slavery; the rich few like himself exploited the toil of these vast numbers, perpetuated injustice by acquiring property. made laws to protect it, formed their own government comprising a few crafty men to enforce them, maintained armies to support these regimes; nations were formed this way and when there was a dispute among them, wars broke out; this was the bane of civilisation Mankind could not be saved until this was halted. This was his final conviction.
This meant that property was the first and foremost peril to world peace. So, henceforth, not for him the ancestral property. Nor the property he had acquired by his efforts. He could not henceforth claim that the books he wrote were his own property, and could not prevent others from publishing them. He could claim nothing as his. Â
Having taken this decision, Count Tolstoy declared that he had renounced property in every form. He became the Saint of the western world in the modern era. It was his desire that other wealthy people should follow his example and make the world a better place to live in; it gave him some comfort to think that they would do so.
Thoughtful persons of the world recognised the Count’s sincerity; they admired the nobility of his sentiments. They praised his sacrifice. But not many followed him. His was a stance an individual could adopt, but not a whole society. If it is wrong to regard the loaf in your hand as yours what will you eat. Let alone other people. This principle could not gain unqualified implementaÂtion in the Sage’s own home. Ancestral property was not to be touched. Nor his own property. Nor the royalty on his books. Nothing was to be regarded as his earnings. How then was the family to live.
If just one man involved he could have said, ‘I shall starve�. But his wife, Sophia, had been accustomed to a life of comfort. There were six grown-up children � three sons and three daughters. Like any rich family this, too, had relatives dependent on it. Friends and acquaintances of the world famous writer paid visits. Some of these people where miserably poor; this was their only refuge. All of them had to be fed and they had to live in comfort as usual. But how.
The Count’s wife, Sophia, took a decision by herself. Preach what the husband might, none of them � not even the husband himself � could survive without the property and the income. He might repudiate property; but could she? Did the children have to do it? So she assumed the reins of property which the husband had flung aside. As soon as the Sage translated his precept into practice she began to manage the property and to look to the comforts of her husband, her children, the relatives, the guests, and the visitors.
Among the friends were Chertakoff, Gorky and Suler Jetskey. Chertakoff was a radical socialist; it was his firm conviction that property was the bane of society. He was foremost in supporting Tolstoy’s opposition to ownership. Gorky, too, was opposed to property. But he asserted that, just as those who support the right to property exploit the institution for their own ends these modern men abuse their doctrine. Suler Jetskey partly agreed with one man, partly with the other, and took a middle line.
There was a birch grove near the Count’s house. It was probably a congenial soil for the trees. The place could boast of a few trees in the days of Tolstoy’s youth. Somehow the place and the trees enchanted him and he had a hundred trees planted. As they grew he rejoiced. When he became the owner of the property he added another hundred trees and created a grove. It was something he was proud of. He used to take his guests to the grove and proudly tell them that it was his handiwork. Even in his old age, despite the weakness, he would go to the grove assisted by someone. When he could not do even this he would sit in the porch and find pleasure in gazing upon the trees. There is an Indian legend about a sage who had severed all bonds of affection but who took pity on a deer and became attached to it. The sage like author had denounced ownership and attachment as evil; but, without his realising it, a sense of ownership and an attachment to the grove grew within him.
Countess Sophia once needed money for household expenses and she considered selling ten of the old trees. They were well grown and sturdy. They would fetch a good price. There were enquiries also. But Tolstoy who got to hear about it said. “Oh no! What a grove! Why sell the trees and disfigure it.�
Sophia learnt about it and gave up the thought of selling the trees. He was the master and he had grown the trees; he was ill; he found pleasure in gazing upon the trees; who could tell how long he would be able to enjoy the sight and when the curtain would come down on his life. Why fell the trees now and hurt him.
A few days later the serfs of the village the family owned waited on Chertakoff and made a representation: “None of us has a house; we want to build small houses for ourselves. Please perÂsuade the master to give us these birch trees, we shall build houses; he has grown magnanimous; he says he wants no property; someÂbody may fell and carry away the trees; please get us the trees.â€� Chertakoff reported this to Tolstoy. He added, “Anyway you are opposed to owning property; that is your conviction; I know it. Here is a fine opportunity to show it to the whole world; please grant the prayer of these serfs.â€�
Tolstoy made no answer. When Chertakoff once again broached the subject, he said, “Once I have said that ownership is wrong, where is the need for me to grant permission. There are the serfs and there are the trees.� It gave him no pleasure to say this. Chertakoff knew it. But he made the best of it and proceeded, assuming that there was nothing to prevent the serfs from felling the trees:
The mistress, Sophia, came to hear of this. She objected, saying, “I myself gave up the plan to fell the trees because the master had planted them and taken loving care of them, will you get outsiders to fell them.�
Chertakoff retorted, “Your husband is a saint, you are subverÂting his magnanimity. This isn’t right.â€�
She said, “Has it become your concern more than mine that the master’s magnanimity should be fruitful. Put an end to this impertinence. So many of you have been eating here, how is all this to be managed without ownership. Leave the affairs of our family to us. Don’t you interfere in all this.�
One word led to another. There was a quarrel. Chertakoff concluded that the mistress, Sophia, was not in her senses and said, “No matter what she says, I shall carry out the master’s wishes.� He then asked the serfs to fell and carry away the trees.
The serfs came. They started cutting down the trees. The mistress hired some men and prevented the serfs. The serfs were injured. They called her heartless; they gave up for the time being. As soon as the hired watch went the serfs returned; they felled the trees; the trunk, the branches, the twigs � they carried away everything. They did it ten times and she checked them ten times, and in six months the birch grove was razed to the ground. Nothing remained, save a few stumps spared by the saw, to show where the flourishing grove had stood once.
While all this was going on, Tolstoy said not a word. Countess Sophia believed that he wished the trees to be spared. But all her efforts proved futile. She almost went mad. Tolstoy was tormented but could say nothing.
A few months later he went away from home without a word to anyone. It was only after he had left that his children realised what had happened. They sent men in search of him. They found him in a railway station. By then he was prostrate. He remained there. The men thought of taking him with them. But before anything could be done he breathed his last in the railway station.
Was it grief that the trees were no longer there. Or was it unhappiness that his wife had opposed his generosity. Was it disÂtress that even while he preached against ownership the pride in the ownership of the trees had haunted him. Or, did all three contend in his heart as he lay dying.
No one can tell.
(Translated from Kannada by L S Seshagiri Rao)