Section 7 of The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoevsky, translated by Constance Garnet. They entered the room almost at the same moment that the elder came in from his bedroom. There were already in the cell, awaiting the elder, two monks of the hermitage, one the Father Librarian and the other Father Paisi, a very learned man, so they said, in delicate health, though not old. There was also a tall young man, who looked about two and twenty, standing in the corner throughout the interview. He had a broad fresh face and clever observant, narrow brown eyes, and was wearing ordinary dress. He was a divinity student, living under the protection of the monastery. His expression was one of unquestioning but self-respecting reverence. Being in a subordinate and dependent position, and so not on an equality with the guests, he did not greet them with a bow. Father Zasima was accompanied by a novice and by Alyosha. The two monks rose and greeted him with a very deep bow, touching the ground with their fingers, then kissed his hand. Seeing them, the elder replied with as deep a reverence to them and asked their blessing. The whole ceremony was performed very seriously and with an appearance of feeling, not like an everyday rite. But Musav fancied that it was all done with intentional impressiveness. He stood in front of the other visitors. He ought, he had reflected upon it the evening before, from simple politeness, since it was the custom here to have gone up to receive the elder's blessing even if he did not kiss his hand. But when he saw all this bowing and kissing on the part of the monks, he instantly changed his mind. With dignified gravity he made a rather deep, conventional bow and moved away to a chair. Fyodor Pavlovich did the same, mimicking Musav like an ape. Ivan bowed with great dignity and courtesy, but he too kept his hands at his sides, while Kalganath was so confused that he did not bow at all. The elder let fall the hand raised to bless them, and bowing to them again asked them all to sit down. The blood rushed to Alyosha's cheeks. He was ashamed. His forebodings were coming true. Here Zasima sat down on a very old-fashioned mahogany sofa, covered with leather, and made his visitors sit down in a row along the opposite wall on four mahogany chairs, covered with shabby black leather. The monks sat one at the door and the other at the window. The divinity student, the novice and Alyosha, remained standing. The cell was not very large and had a faded look. It contained nothing but the most necessary furniture of course and poor quality. There were two pots of flowers in the window and a number of holy pictures in the corner. Before one huge ancient icon of the Virgin, a lamp was burning. Near it were two other holy pictures in shining settings and, next to them, carved cherubims, china eggs, a catholic cross of ivory with a matadorosa embracing it, and several foreign engravings from the great Italian artists of past centuries. Next to these costly and artistic engravings were several of the roughest Russian prints of saints and martyrs, such as are sold for a few farthings at all the fairs. On the other walls were portraits of Russian bishops past and present. Yusof took a cursory glance at all these conventional surroundings and bent an intent look upon the elder. He had a high opinion of his own insight, a weakness excusable in him as he was fifty, an age at which a clever man of the world of established position can hardly help taking himself rather seriously. At the first moment he did not like Zasima. There was indeed something in the elder's face which many people besides Yusof might not have liked. He was a short, bent little man with very weak legs, and though he was only sixty-five, he looked at least ten years older. His face was very thin and covered with a network of fine wrinkles, particularly numerous about his eyes, which were small, light-colored, quick, and shining like two bright points. He had a sprinkling of gray hair about his temples. His pointed beard was small and scanty, and his lips, which smiled frequently, were as thin as two threads. His nose was not long, but sharp like a bird's beak.  He felt altogether dissatisfied with his position. A cheap little clock on the wall struck twelve hurriedly, and served to begin the conversation. "'Precisely to our time,' cried Fyodor Pavlovich, but no sign of my son Dmitry, I apologize for him, sacred elder.' Alyasha shuddered all over at sacred elder. I am always punctual myself, minute for minute, remembering that punctuality is of the courtesy of kings. "'But you are not a king, anyway,' Yusof muttered, losing his self-restraint at once. "'Yes, that's true, I'm not a king, and would you believe it, Pyotr Alexandrovich? I was aware of that myself. But there I always say the wrong thing. Your reverence,' he cried with sudden pathos, "'You behold before you a buffoon in earnest. I introduce myself as such. It's an old habit, alas, and if I sometimes talk nonsense out of place, it's with an object, with the object of amusing people and making myself agreeable. One must be agreeable, mustn't one?' I was seven years ago in a little town where I had business, and I made friends with some merchants there. We went to the captain of police because we had to see him about something, and to ask him to dine with us. He was a tall, fat, fair, silky man, the most dangerous type in such cases. It's their liver. I went straight up to him, and with the ease of a man of the world, you know. "'Mr. Izpravnik,' said I, "'be our napravnik.'" "'What do you mean by napravnik?' said he. I saw, at the first half-second, that it had missed fire. He stood there so glum. "'I wanted to make a joke,' said I, for the general diversion, as Mr. Napravnik is our well-known Russian orchestra conductor, and what we need for the harmony of our undertaking is some one of that sort. And I explained my comparison very reasonably, didn't I? "'Excuse me,' said he, "'I am an Izpravnik, and I do not allow puns to be made on my calling.' He turned and walked away.  And would you believe it, it ruined our business. And I am always like that, always like that, always injuring myself with my politeness. Once many years ago I said to an influential person, "'Your wife is a ticklish lady, in an honourable sense, of the moral qualities, so to speak. But he asked me, "'Why, have you tickled her?' I thought I'd be polite, so I couldn't help saying, "'Yes,' and he gave me a fine tickling on the spot. Only that happened long ago, so I'm not ashamed to tell the story. I'm always injuring myself like that.'" "'You're doing it now,' muttered Musoff, with disgust. Fathers Assima scrutinised them both in silence. Am I? Would you believe it? I was aware of that, too, Pyotr Alexandrovich, and let me tell you, indeed, I foresaw I should as soon as I began to speak. And do you know, I foresaw, too, that you'd be the first to remark on it? The minute I see my joke isn't coming off, your reverence, both my cheeks feel as though they were drawn down to the lower jaw, and there is almost a spasm in them. That's been so since I was young, when I had to make jokes for my living in noblemen's families. I am an inveterate buffoon, and have been from birth up, your reverence. It's as though it were a craze in me. I daresay it's a devil within me, but only a little one. A more serious one would have chosen another lodging. But not your soul, Pyotr Alexandrovich. You're not a lodging worth having, either. But I do believe, I believe in God, though I have had doubts of late. But now I sit and await words of wisdom. I'm like the philosopher Diderot, your reverence. Did you ever hear, most holy father, how Diderot went to see the metropolitan Platone in the time of the Empress Catherine? He went in and said straight out, There is no God. To which the great bishop lifted up his finger and answered, The fool hath said in his heart there is no God. And he fell down at his feet on the spot. I believe, he cried, and will be christened, and so he was. The Stashkoff was his godmother, and Putionkin his godfather. Fyodor Pavlovich, this is unbearable.  Why are you playing the fool? cried Musov in a shaking voice. I suspected all my life that it wasn't true, Fyodor Pavlovich cried with conviction. But I'll tell you the whole truth, gentlemen. You tell her, forgive me, the last thing about Diderot's christening I made up just now. I never thought of it before. I made it up to add pecancy. I play the fool, Pyotr Alexandrovich, to make myself agreeable. Though I really don't know myself sometimes what I do it for. And as for Diderot, I heard, as far as the fool hath said in his heart, Twenty times from the gentry about here when I was young. I heard your aunt, Pyotr Alexandrovich, tell the story. They all believed to this day that the infidel Diderot came to dispute about God with the metropolitan Platone. Musov got up, forgetting himself in his impatience. He was furious and conscious of being ridiculous. What was taking place in the cell was really incredible. For forty or fifty years past, from the times of former elders, no visitors had entered that cell without feelings of the profoundest veneration. Almost everyone admitted to the cell felt that a great favour was being shown him. Many remained kneeling during the whole visit. Of those visitors many had been men of high rank and learning, some even free thinkers, attracted by curiosity, but all, without exception, had shown the profoundest reverence and delicacy. For here there was no question of money, but only on the one side, love and kindness, and on the other, penitence and eager desire to decide some spiritual problem or crisis. So that such buffoonery amazed and bewildered the spectators, or at least some of them. The monks with unchanged countenances waited with earnest attention to hear what the elder would say, but seemed on the point of standing up like Musaf. Al-Yasha stood with hanging head on the verge of tears. What seemed to him strangest of all was that his brother, Yvonne, on whom alone he had rested his hopes and who alone had such influence on his father that he could have stopped him, sat now quite unmoved, with downcast eyes, apparently waiting with interest to see how it would end, as though he had nothing to do with it. Al-Yasha did not dare to look at Rakhetan, the divinity student whom he knew almost intimately. He alone in the monastery knew Rakhetan's thoughts. Forgive me, began Musaf addressing Father Zasima, for perhaps I seemed to be taking part in this shameful foolery. I made a mistake in believing that even a man like Fyodor Pavlovich would understand what was due on a visit to so honoured a personage. I did not suppose I should have to apologise simply for having come with him. Pyotr Alexandrovich could say no more, and was about to leave the room overwhelmed with confusion. Don't distress yourself, I beg. The elder got on to his feeble legs, and taking Pyotr Alexandrovich by both hands made him sit down again. I beg you not to disturb yourself. I particularly beg you to be my guest.  Great elder, speak! Do I annoy you by my vivacity? Fyodor Pavlovich cried suddenly, clutching the arms of his chair in both hands, as though ready to leap up from it if the answer were unfavourable. I earnestly beg you too not to disturb yourself and not to be uneasy. The elder said impressively, do not trouble, make yourself quite at home, and above all, do not be so ashamed of yourself, for that is at the root of it all. Quite at home, to be my natural self, oh, that is too much, but I accept it with grateful joy. Do you know, blessed father, you'd better not invite me to be my natural self. Don't risk it. I will not go so far as that myself. I warn you, for your own sake. Well, the rest is still plunged in the mists of uncertainty, though there are people who'd be pleased to describe me for you. I mean that for you, Pyotr Alexandrovich. But as for you, holy being, let me tell you I am brimming over with ecstasy. He got up and, throwing up his hands, declaimed, Blessed be the womb that bear thee, and the paps that gave thee succ, the paps especially. When you said just now, don't be so ashamed of yourself, for that is at the root of it all, you pierced right through me by that remark and read me to the core. Indeed I always feel when I meet people that I am lower than all and that they all take me for a buffoon. So I say, Let me really play the buffoon.  That is why I am a buffoon. It is, from shame, great elder, from shame. It's simply oversensitiveness that makes me rowdy. If I had only been sure that everyone would accept me as the kindest and wisest of men, oh Lord, what a good man I should have been then. Teacher! he fell suddenly on his knees. What must I do to gain eternal life? It was difficult even now to decide whether he was joking or really moved. Fathers Asima, lifting his eyes, looked at him, and said with a smile, You have known for a long time what you must do. You have sense enough. Don't give way to drunkenness and incontinence of speech. Don't give way to sensual lust and above all to the love of money. And close your taverns, if you can't close all, at least two or three. And above all, don't lie. You mean about Diderot? No, not about Diderot. Above all, don't lie to yourself. The man who lies to himself and listens to his own lie comes to such a past that he cannot distinguish the truth within him or around him, and so loses all respect for himself and for others. And having no respect, he ceases to love, and in order to occupy and distract himself without love he gives way to passions and course pleasures, and sinks to bestiality in his vices, all from continual lying to other men and to himself. The man who lies to himself can be more easily offended than anyone. You know it is sometimes very pleasant to take offense, isn't it? A man may know that nobody has insulted him, but that he has invented the insult for himself, has lied and exaggerated to make it picturesque, has caught at a word and made a mountain out of a molehill, he knows that himself, yet he will be the first to take offense and will revel in his resentment till he feels great pleasure in it, and so pass to genuine vindictiveness.  And man, give me your hand to kiss. Fyodor Pavlovich skipped up and imprinted a rapid kiss on the elder's thin hand. It is, it is pleasant to take offense, you said that so well, as I never heard it before. Yes, I have been all my life taking offense to please myself, taking offense on aesthetic grounds, for it is not so much pleasant as distinguished sometimes to be insulted. That you had forgotten, great elder, it is distinguished. I shall make a note of that. But I have been lying, lying positively my whole life long, every day and hour of it, of a truth I am a lie, and the father of lies. Though I believe I am not the father of lies, I am getting mixed in my texts. Say the son of lies, and that will be enough. Only my angel, I may sometimes talk about Diderot, Diderot will do no harm, though sometimes a word will do harm. Great elder, by the way, I was forgetting, though I had been meaning for the last two years to come here, on purpose, to ask and to find out something. Only do tell, Pyotr Alexandrovich, not to interrupt me. Here is my question. Is it true, great father, that the story is told somewhere in the lives of the saints, of a holy saint martyred for his faith, who, when his head was cut off at last, stood up, picked up his head, and courteously kissing it, walked a long way, carrying it in his hands? Is that true or not, honoured father? No, it is untrue, said the elder. There is nothing of the kind in all the lives of the saints. What saint do you say the story is told of? asked the father librarian. I do not know what saint, I do not know and can't tell. I was deceived, I was told the story, I had heard it. And do you know who told it? Pyotr Alexandrovich Musov here, who was so angry just now about Diderot, he it was who told the story. I have never told it to you, I never speak to you at all. It is true you did not tell me, but you told it when I was present.  You knew nothing of it, but I went home with my faith shaken, and I have been getting more and more shaken ever since. Yes, Pyotr Alexandrovich, you were the cause of a great fall. That was not a Diderot. Pyotr Pavlovich got excited and pathetic, though it was perfectly clear to everyone by now that he was playing apart again. Yet Musov was stung by his words. What nonsense, and it is all nonsense, he muttered. I may really have told it some time or other, but not to you. I was told it myself, I heard it in Paris, from a Frenchman. He told me it was read at our mass from the lives of the saints. He was a very learned man who had made a special study of Russian statistics, and had lived a long time in Russia. I have not read the lives of the saints myself, and I am not going to read them. All sorts of things are said at dinner. We were dining then. Yes, you were dining then, and so I lost my faith, said Pyotr Pavlovich, mimicking him. What do I care for your faith? Musov was on the point of shouting, but he suddenly checked himself and said with contempt, you defile everything you touch. The elder suddenly rose from his seat. Excuse me, gentlemen, for leaving you for a few minutes, he said, addressing all his guests. I have visitors awaiting me who arrived before you. But don't you tell lies all the same? He added, turning to Pyotr Pavlovich with a good humoured face. He went out of the cell. Alyosha and the novice flew to escort him down the steps. Alyosha was breathless. He was glad to get away, but he was glad, too, that the elder was good-humoured and not offended. Fathers Asima was going towards the portico to bless the people waiting for him there. But Pyotr Pavlovich persisted in stopping him at the door of the cell.  Yes, with you I could still talk, I could still get on.  Believe me, I have been acting like this all the time on purpose to try you. I have been testing you all the time to see whether I could get on with you. Is there room for my humility beside your pride? I am ready to give you a testimonial that one can get on with you. But now I'll be quiet. I will keep quiet all the time. I'll sit in a chair and hold my tongue. Now it is for you to speak, Pyotr Alexandrovich. You are the principal person left now. For ten minutes. PESANT WOMEN WHO HAVE FAITH Near the wooden portico below, built on to the outer wall of the precinct, there was a crowd of about twenty peasant women. They had been told that the elder was at last coming out, and they had gathered together in anticipation. Two ladies, Madame Holokov and her daughter, had also come out into the portico to wait for the elder, but in a separate part of it set aside for a women of rank. Madame Holokov was a wealthy lady, still young and attractive, and always dressed with taste.  She was not more than thirty-three, and had been five years a widow. Her daughter, a girl of fourteen, was partially paralyzed. The poor child had not been able to walk for the last six months, and was wheeled about in a long reclining chair.   Her mother had been intending to take her abroad ever since the spring, but they had been detained all the summer by business connected with their estate. They had been staying a week in our town, where they had come more for the purposes of business than devotion, but had visited Father Zasima once already three days before. Though they knew that the elders scarcely saw any one, they had now suddenly turned up again, and urgently entreated the happiness of looking once again on the great healer.  He too sought the elders' blessing. But Father Zasima, on entering the Particle, went first straight to the peasants who were crowded at the foot of the three steps that led up into the Particle. Father Zasima stood on the top step, put on his stole, and began blessing the women who thronged about him. One crazy woman was led up to him. As soon as she caught sight of the elder she began shrieking and writhing as though in the pains of childbirth. Laying the stole on her forehead he read a short prayer over her, and she was at once soothed and quieted. I did not know how it may be now, but in my childhood I often happened to see and hear these possessed women in the villages and monasteries. They used to be brought to mass.  I was greatly impressed and amazed at this as a child, but then I heard from country neighbours and from my town teachers that the whole illness was simulated to avoid work, and that it could always be cured by suitable severity. Various anecdotes were told to confirm this. But later on I learned with astonishment from medical specialists that there is no pretense about it, that it is a terrible illness to which women are subject, especially prevalent among us in Russia, and that it is due to the hard lot of the peasant women. It is a disease, I was told, arising from exhausting toil too soon after hard, abnormal and unassisted labour in childbirth, and from the hopeless misery from beatings and so on, which some women were not able to endure like others. The strange and instant healing of the frantic and struggling woman as soon as she was led up to the holy sacrament, which had been explained to me as due to malingering and the trickery of the clericals, arose probably in the most natural manner. Both the women who supported her and the invalid herself fully believed as a truth beyond question that the evil spirit in possession of her could not hold out if the sick woman were brought to the sacrament and made to bow down before it. And so, with a nervous and psychically deranged woman, a sort of convulsion of the whole organism always took place and was bound to take place at the moment of bowing down to the sacrament, aroused by the expectation of the miracle of healing and the implicit belief that it would come to pass, and it did come to pass, though only for a moment. It was exactly the same now as soon as the elder touched the sick woman with the stole. Many of the women in the crowd were moved to tears of ecstasy by the effect of the moment. Some strove to kiss the hymn of his garment, others cried out in sing-song voices. He blessed them all and talked with some of them. The possessed woman he knew already, she came from a village only six firsts from the monastery and had been brought to him before. But here is one from afar. He pointed to a woman by no means old but very thin and wasted, with a face not merely sunburnt, but almost blackened by exposure. She was kneeling and gazing with a fixed stare at the elder. There was something almost frenzied in her eyes. From afar off, father, from afar off, from two hundred miles from here, from afar off, father, from afar off, the woman began in a sing-song voice as though she were chanting a dirge, swaying her head from side to side with her cheek resting in her hand. There is silent and long suffering sorrow to be met with among the peasantry. It withdraws into itself and is still. But there is a grief that breaks out, and from that minute it bursts into tears and finds vent in wailing. This is particularly common with women. But it is no lighter a grief than the silent. Lamentations comfort only by lacerating the heart still more. Such grief does not desire consolation. It feeds on the sense of its hopelessness. Women spring only from the constant craving to re-open the wound. "'You are of the tradesman class?' said Father Zosima, looking curiously at her. "'Town folk we are, father, town folk, yet we are peasants, though we live in the town. I have come to see you, O father. We heard of you, father, we heard of you.  I have been in three monasteries, but they told me, go, Nastasia, go to them, that is, to you. I have come. I was yesterday at the service, and today I have come to you. What are you weeping for?' "'It's my little son, I'm grieving for, father. He was three years old, three years all but three months. For my little boy, father, I'm in anguish for my little boy. He was the last one left. We had four, my Nikita and I, and now we've no children, our dear ones have all gone. I buried the first three without grieving over much, and now I have buried the last I can't forget him. He seems always standing before me. He never leaves me. He has withered my heart.  I lay out all that is left of him, all his little things. I look at them and wail. I say to Nikita, my husband, let me go on a pilgrimage, master. He is a driver. We're not poor people, father, not poor. He drives our own horse. It's all our own, the horse and the carriage. And what good is it all to us now? My Nikita has begun drinking while I am away. He's sure to. It used to be so before. As soon as I turn my back, he gives way to it. But now I don't think about him. It's three months since I left home. I've forgotten him. I've forgotten everything. I don't want to remember. And what would our life be now, together? I've done with him. I've done. I've done with them all. I don't care to look upon my house and my goods. I don't care to see anything at all.  Knowest thou not, said the saint to her, how bold these little ones are before the throne of God? Verily there are none bolder than they in the kingdom of heaven. Thou didst give us life, O Lord, they say, and scarcely had we looked upon it when thou didst take it back again. And so boldly they ask and ask again that God gives them at once the rank of angels. Therefore, said the saint, thou too, O mother, rejoice and weep not, for thy little son is with the Lord in the fellowship of the angels. That's what the saint said to the weeping mother of old. He was a great saint, and he could not have spoken falsely. Therefore you, too, mother, know that your little one is surely before the throne of God, is rejoicing and happy, and praying to God for you, and therefore weep not, but rejoice. The woman listened to him looking down with her cheek in her hand. My Nikita tried to comfort me with the same words as you. Foolish one, he said, why weep? Our son is no doubt singing with the angels before God. He says that to me, but he weeps himself. I see that he cries like me. I know, Nikita, said I, where could he be if not with the Lord God? Only here with us now he is not, as he used to sit beside us before. And if only I could look upon him one little time, if only I could peep at him one little time, without going up to him, without speaking, if I could be hidden in a corner and only see him for one little minute, hear him playing in the yard, calling in his little voice, Mammy, where are you? If only I could hear him pattering with his little feet about the room just once, only once, for so often, so often I remember how he used to run to me and shout and laugh, if only I could hear his little feet I should know him, but he's gone, Father, he's gone, and I shall never hear him again. Here's his little sash, but him I shall never see or hear now. They drew out of her bosom her boy's little embroidered sash, and as soon as she looked at it she began shaking with sobs, hiding her eyes with her fingers, through which the tears flowed in a sudden stream. "'It is Rachel of old,' said the elder, weeping for her children, and will not be comforted because they are not, such is the lot set on earth for you mothers. Be not comforted, consolation is not what you need, weep and be not consoled, but weep. Only every time that you weep be sure to remember that your little son is one of the angels of God, that he looks down from there at you and sees you, and rejoices at your tears and points at them to the Lord God, and a long while yet will you keep that great mother's grief, but it will turn in the end into quiet joy, and your bitter tears will be only tears of tender sorrow that purifies the heart and delivers it from sin. And I shall pray for the peace of your child's soul. What was his name? Alexei, father. A sweet name. After Alexei the man of God? Yes, father. And a saint he was. I will remember him, mother, and your grief in my prayers, and I will pray for your husband's health. It is a sin for you to leave him. Your little one will see from heaven that you have forsaken his father, and will weep over you. Why do you trouble his happiness? He is living, for the soul lives forever, and though he is not in the house, he is near you, unseen. How can he go into the house when you say that the house is hateful to you? To whom is he to go if he find you not together, his father and mother? He comes to you in dreams now, and you grieve, but then he will send you gentle dreams.  I will go, father, at your word. I will go. You've gone straight to my heart. My Nikita, my Nikita, you are waiting for me! The woman began in a sing-song voice. But the elder had already turned away to a very old woman, dressed like a dweller in the town, not like a pilgrim. Her eyes showed that she had come with an object and in order to say something. She said she was the widow of a non-commissioned officer and lived close by in the town. Her son, Vasenka, was in the commissariat service and had gone to Irkutsk in Siberia. He had written twice from there, but now a year had passed since he had written. She did inquire about him, but she did not know the proper place to inquire. Probably the other day, Stepaneda Ilyanishna, she's a rich merchant's wife, said to me, You go, Pohorovna, and put your son's name down for prayer in the church, and pray for the peace of his soul as though he were dead. His soul will be troubled, she said, and he will write you a letter. As Stepaneda Ilyanishna told me it was a certain thing which had been many times tried, only I am in doubt. O you light of ours, is it true or false, and would it be right? Don't think of it. It's shameful to ask the question. How is it possible to pray for the peace of a living soul?  It's a great sin akin to sorcery. Only for your ignorance it is forgiven you. Here pray to the Queen of Heaven, our swift defence and help, for his good health and that she may forgive you for your error.  Go, and hence forward be in peace.   But the elder had already noticed in the crowd two glowing eyes fixed upon him. An exhausted, consumptive-looking, though young, peasant woman, was gazing at him in silence. Her eyes besought him, but she seemed afraid to approach. What is it, my child?  I have sinned, father, I am afraid of my sin. The elder sat down on the lower step. The woman crept closer to him, still on her knees. I am a widow these three years. She began in a half whisper with a sort of shutter. I had a hard life with my husband. He was an old man. He used to beat me cruelly. He lay ill. I thought, looking at him, if he were to get well, if he were to get up again, what then? And then the thought came to me. Stay, said the elder, and he put his ear close to her lips. The woman went on in a low whisper, so that it was almost impossible to catch anything. She had soon done. Three years ago, asked the elder, three years. At first I didn't think about it, but now I've begun to be ill, and the thought never leaves me. Have you come from far, over three hundred miles away? Have you told it in confession? I have confessed it, twice I have confessed it. Have you been admitted to communion? Yes, I am afraid, I am afraid to die. Fear nothing, and never be afraid, and don't fret. If only your penitence fail not, God will forgive all. There is no sin, and there can be no sin on all the earth which the Lord will not forgive to the truly repentant. Sin cannot commit a sin so great as to exhaust the infinite love of God. Can there be a sin which could exceed the love of God? Think only of repentance, continual repentance, but dismiss fear altogether. Believe that God loves you as you cannot conceive, that he loves you with your sin, in your sin. It has been said of old that over one repentant sinner there is more joy in heaven than over ten righteous men. Go and fear not. Be not bitter against men. Be not angry if you are wronged. Forgive the dead man in your heart what wrong he did you. Be reconciled with him in truth. If you are penitent, you love, and if you love you are of God. All things are atoned for, all things are saved by love.  Love is such a priceless treasure that you can redeem the whole world by it and expiate not only your own sins but the sins of others. He signed her three times with the cross, took from his own neck a little icon and put it upon her. She bowed down to the earth without speaking. He got up and looked cheerfully at a healthy peasant woman with a tiny baby in her arms. From Vishigaria, dear father, five miles you have dragged yourself with the baby. What do you want? I've come to look at you. I have been to you before, or have you forgotten? You've no great memory if you've forgotten me. They told us you were ill. Thinks I, I'll go and see him for myself. Now I see you, and you're not ill.  There are plenty to pray for you. How should you be ill? I thank you for all, daughter. By the way, I have a thing to ask, not a great one. There are sixty co-packs. Give them, dear father, to someone poorer than me. I thought as I came along, better give through him, he'll know whom to give to. Thanks my dear, thanks.  I love you. I will do so certainly. Is that your little girl? My little girl, father, Lisaveta. May the Lord bless you both, you and your babe, Lisaveta. You have gladdened my heart, mother. Farewell, dear children, farewell, dear ones. He blessed them all, and bowed low to them. CHAPTER IV A visitor looking on the scene of his conversation with the peasants and his blessing them, shed silent tears and wiped them away with her handkerchief. She was a sentimental society lady of genuinely good disposition in many respects. When the elder went up to her, at last she met him enthusiastically. Ah, what I have been feeling looking on at this touching scene. She could not go on for emotion. Oh, I understand the people's love for you. I love the people myself. I want to love them, and who could help loving them, our splendid Russian people, so simple in their greatness. How is your daughter's health? You wanted to talk to me again? Oh, I have been urgently begging for it. I have prayed for it. I was ready to fall on my knees and kneel for three days at your windows until you let me in. We have come, great healer, to express our ardent gratitude. You have healed my knees, healed her completely, merely by praying over her last Thursday and laying your hands upon her. We have hastened here to kiss those hands, to pour out our feelings and our homage. What do you mean by healed, but she is still lying down in her chair? But her night-fievers have entirely ceased ever since Thursday, said the lady with nervous haste. And that's not all. Her legs are stronger. This morning she got up well, she had slept all night.   This morning she insisted on my letting her stand up, and she stood up for a whole minute without any support. She wagers that in a fortnight she'll be dancing a quadril. I've called in Dr. Herzenstube. He shrugged his shoulders and said, I am amazed, I can make nothing of it. And would you have us not come here to disturb you, not fly here to thank you? Please, thank him, thank him. These his pretty little laughing face became suddenly serious. She rose in her chair as far as she could, and, looking at the elder, clasped her hands before him, but could not restrain herself, and broke into laughter. It's at him, she said, pointing to Alyosha, with childish vexation at herself for not being able to repress her mirth. If anyone had looked at Alyosha, standing a step behind the elder, he would have caught a quick flush crimsoning his cheeks in an instant. His eyes shone, and he looked down. She has a message for you, Alexei Fyodorovitch, how are you? The mother went on, holding out her exquisitely gloved hand to Alyosha. The elder turned round, and all at once looked attentively at Alyosha. The latter went nearer to Lee's end, smiling in a strangely awkward way, held out his hand to her too. Lee's assumed an important heir. Katarina Ivanovna has sent you this through me. She handed him a little note. She particularly begs you to go and see her as soon as possible, that you will not fail her, but will be sure to come. She asks me to go and see her? Me? What for? Alyosha muttered in great astonishment. His face at once looked anxious. Oh, it's all to do with Dmitry Fyodorovitch, and what has happened lately? The mother explained, hurriedly. Alyosha Ivanovna has made up her mind, but she must see you about it. Why, of course, I can't say, but she wants to see you at once, and you will go to her, of course. It is a Christian duty. I have only seen her once, Alyosha protested with the same perplexity. Oh, she is such a lofty, incomparable creature, if only for her suffering. Think what she has gone through, what she is enduring now. Think what awaits her. It's all terrible, terrible. Very well, I will come, Alyosha decided, after rapidly scanning the brief enigmatic note, which consisted of an urgent entreaty that he would come, without any sort of explanation. Oh, how sweet and generous that would be of you, cried Lise, with sudden animation. I told Mama you'd be sure not to go. I said you were saving your soul. How splendid you are! I've always thought you were splendid. How glad I am to tell you so. Lise, said her mother impressively, though she smiled after she had said it. You have quite forgotten us, Alexei Fyodorovich, she said.  Alyosha raised his downcast eyes, and again flushed, and again smiled, without knowing why. The elder was no longer watching him. He had begun talking to a monk who, as mentioned before, had been awaiting his entrance by Lise's chair. He was evidently a monk of the humblest, that is, of the peasant class, of a narrow outlook, but a true believer, and in his own way a stubborn one. He announced that he had come from the far north, from Obdorsk, from St. Sylvester, and was a member of a poor monastery consisting of only ten monks. The elder gave him his blessing, and invited him to come to his cell whenever he liked. How can you presume to do such deeds? The monk asked suddenly, pointing solemnly and significantly at Lise. He was referring to her healing. It's too early, of course, to speak of that. Life is not complete cure, and may proceed from different causes. But if there has been any healing, it is by no power but God's will. It's all from God. Visit me, Father, he added to the monk. It's not often I can see visitors. I am ill, and I know that my days are numbered. Oh, no, no, God will not take you from us. You will live a long, long time yet, cried the lady. And in what way are you ill?  I am extraordinarily better today, but I know that it's only for a moment. I understand my disease now, thoroughly. If I seem so happy to you, you could never say anything that would please me so much. For men are made for happiness, and anyone who is completely happy has a right to say to himself, I am doing God's will on earth. All the righteous, all the saints, all the holy martyrs were happy. Oh, how you speak! What bold and lofty words, cried the lady. You seem to pierce with your words. And yet happiness, happiness, where is it? Who can say of himself that he is happy? Oh, since you have been so good as to let us see you once more today, let me tell you what I could not utter last time, what I dared not say, all I am suffering and have been for so long. I am suffering. Forgive me, I am suffering. And in a rush of fervent feeling she clasped her hands before him. From what, specially? I suffer from lack of faith. Lack of faith in God? Oh, no, no, I dare not even think of that. But the future life, it is such an enigma, and no one, no one, can solve it.  The thought of the life beyond the grave distracts me to anguish, to terror, and I don't know to whom to appeal, and have not dared to all my life. And now I am so bold as to ask you, oh God, what will you think of me now? She clasped her hands. Don't distress yourself about my opinion of you, said the elder. I quite believe in the sincerity of your suffering. Oh, how thankful I am to you. You see, I shut my eyes and ask myself if everyone has faith, where did it come from? And then they do say that it all comes from terror at the menacing phenomena of nature, and that none of it's real. And I say to myself, what if I've been believing all my life, and when I come to die there's nothing but the bird-ox growing on my grave, as I read in some author. It's awful. How? How can I get back my faith? But I only believed when I was a little child, mechanically, without thinking of anything. How? How is one to prove it? I have come now to lay my soul before you and to ask you about it. If I let this chance slip, no one all my life will answer me. How can I prove it? How can I convince myself? Oh, how unhappy I am. I stand and look about me and see that scarcely anyone else cares. No one troubles his head about it, and I'm the only one who can't stand it. It's deadly, deadly. No doubt. But there's no proving it, though you can be convinced of it. How? By the experience of active love, strive to love your neighbour actively and indefatigably. In as far as you advance in love, you will grow sureer of the reality of God and of the immortality of your soul. If you attain to perfect self-forgetfulness in the love of your neighbour, then you will believe without doubt, and no doubt can possibly enter your soul. This has been tried. This is certain. In active love there's another question, and such a question. You see, I so love humanity that, would you believe it, I often dream of forsaking all that I have, leaving Lees and becoming a sister of mercy. I close my eyes and think and dream, and at that moment I feel full of strength to overcome all obstacles. No wounds, no festering sores could at that moment frighten me. I would bind them up and wash them with my own hands. I would nurse the afflicted. I would be ready to kiss such wounds. It is much, and well, that your mind is full of such dreams and not others. Sometime, unawares, you may do a good deed in reality. Yes, but could I endure such a life for long? The lady went on fervently, almost frantically. That's the chief question, that's my most agonising question.  And if the patient whose wounds you are washing did not meet you with gratitude, but worried you with his whims, without valuing or remarking your charitable services, began abusing you and rudely commanding you and complaining to the superior authorities of you, which often happens when people are in great suffering, what then, would you persevere in your love or not? When do you know, I came with horror to the conclusion that if anything could dissipate my love to humanity, it would be in gratitude. In short, I am a hired servant, I expect my payment at once, that is, praise and the repayment of love with love, otherwise I am incapable of loving any one. She was in a very paroxysm of self-castigation and, concluding, she looked with defiant resolution at the elder. It's just the same story as a doctor once told me, observed the elder. He was a man getting on in years and undoubtedly clever. He spoke as frankly as you, though in jest, in bitter jest. I love humanity, he said, but I wonder at myself. The more I love humanity in general, the less I love man in particular. In my dreams, he said, I have often come to making enthusiastic schemes for the service of humanity, and perhaps I might actually have faced crucifixion if it had been suddenly necessary, and yet I am incapable of living in the same room with any one for two days together, as I know by experience. As soon as anyone is near me, his personality disturbs my self-complacency and restricts my freedom. In twenty-four hours I begin to hate the best of men, one because he's too long over his dinner, another because he has a cold and keeps on blowing his nose. I become hostile to people the moment they come close to me. But it has always happened that the more I detest men individually, the more ardent becomes my love for humanity. But what's to be done? What can one do in such a case? Must one despair? No, it is enough that you are distressed at it. Do what you can, and it will be reckoned unto you. Which is done already in you since you can so deeply and sincerely know yourself. If you have been talking to me so sincerely, simply to gain approbation for your frankness, as you did for me just now, then, of course, you will not attain to anything in the achievement of real love. It will all get no further than dreams, and your whole life will slip away, like a phantom. In that case you will naturally cease to think of the future life too, and will of yourself grow calmer after a fashion in the end. You have crushed me. Only now, as you speak, I understand that I was really only seeking your approbation for my sincerity when I told you I could not endure in gratitude. You have revealed me to myself. You have seen through me and explained me to myself. Are you speaking the truth? Well now, after such a confession, I believe that you are sincere and good at heart. If you do not attain happiness, always remember that you are on the right road, and try not to leave it. Above all, avoid falsehood, every kind of falsehood, especially falseness to yourself. Reach over your own deceitfulness and look into it every hour, every minute. Avoid being scornful, both to others and to yourself. What seems to you bad within you will grow purer from the very fact of your observing it in yourself. Avoid fear, too, though fear is only the consequence of every sort of falsehood. Never be frightened that your own faint-heartedness in attaining love.  I am sorry I can say nothing more consoling to you, for love in action is a harsh and dreadful thing compared with love in dreams. Love in dreams is greedy for immediate action, rapidly performed and in the sight of all. Men will even give their lives if only the ordeal does not last long, but is soon over with all looking on and applauding as though on the stage. But active love is labour and fortitude, and for some people, too, perhaps a complete science. But I predict that just when you see, with horror, that in spite of all your efforts you are getting farther from your goal instead of nearer to it, at that very moment I predict that you will reach it and behold clearly the miraculous power of the Lord who has been all the time loving and mysteriously guiding you. Forgive me for not being able to stay longer with you. They are waiting for me. Good-bye. The lady was weeping. Lise, Lise, bless her, bless her! she cried, starting up suddenly. She does not deserve to be loved. I have seen her in naughtiness all along, the elder said jestingly. Why have you been laughing at Alexei? Lise had, in fact, been occupied in mocking at him all the time. She had noticed before that Alyosha was shy and tried not to look at her, and she found this extremely amusing. She waited intently to catch his eye. Alyosha, unable to endure her persistent stare, was irresistibly and suddenly drawn to glance at her, and at once she smiled triumphantly in his face. Alyosha was even more disconcerted and vexed. At last he turned away from her altogether and hid behind the elder's back. After a few minutes, drawn by the same irresistible force, he turned again to see whether he was being looked at or not, and found Lise almost hanging out of her chair to peep sideways at him, eagerly waiting for him to look. Catching his eye, she laughed so that the elder could not help saying, Why do you make fun of him like that naughty girl? Lise suddenly and quite unexpectedly blushed. Her eyes flashed, and her face became quite serious. She began speaking quickly and nervously in a warm and resentful voice. Why has he forgotten everything then? He used to carry me about when I was little. We used to play together. He used to come to teach me to read, do you know? Two years ago, when he went away, he said that he would never forget me, that we were friends forever, forever, forever. And now he's afraid of me all at once. Am I going to eat him? Why doesn't he want to come near me? Why doesn't he talk? Why won't he come and see us? It's not that you won't let him. We know that he goes everywhere. It's not good manners for me to invite him. He ought to have thought of it first if he hasn't forgotten me. No, now he's saving his soul. Why have you put that long gown on him? If he runs, he'll fall. And suddenly she hid her face in her hand, and went off into irresistible, prolonged, nervous, inaudible laughter. The elder listened to her with a smile, and blessed her tenderly. As she kissed his hand, she suddenly pressed it to her eyes, and began crying. Don't be angry with me. I'm silly and good for nothing, and perhaps Alyosha's right, quite white, in not wanting to come and see such a ridiculous girl. I will certainly send him, said the elder. CHAPTER V The elder's absence from his cell had lasted for about twenty-five minutes. It was more than half past twelve, but Dmitry, on whose account they had all met there, had still not appeared. But he seemed almost to be forgotten, and when the elder entered the cell again he found his guests engaged in eager conversation. Ivan and the two monks took the leading share in it. Musov, too, was trying to take apart, and apparently very eagerly, in the conversation. But he was unsuccessful in this also. He was evidently in the background, and his remarks were treated with neglect, which increased his irritability. He had had intellectual encounters with Ivan before, and he could not endure a certain carelessness Ivan showed him. Hitherto, at least, I have stood in the front ranks of all that is progressive in Europe, and here the new generation positively ignores us, he thought.  He had been waiting for some time to pay off old scores, and now he could not let the opportunity slip. Bending over his shoulder he began teasing him again in a whisper. Why didn't you go away just now after the courteously kissing? Why did you consent to remain in such unseemly company?  Now you won't go till you've displayed your intellect to them. You again! On the contrary, I'm just going. You'll be the last, the last of all to go. Fyodor Pavlovich delivered him another thrust, almost at the moment of Father Zasima's return. The discussion died down for a moment, but the elder, seating himself in his former place, looked at them all as though cordially inviting them to go on. Alyosha, who knew every expression of his face, saw that he was fearfully exhausted and making a great effort. Of late he had been liable to fainting fits from exhaustion. His face had the pallor that was common before such attacks, and his lips were white, but he evidently did not want to break up the party. He seemed to have some special object of his own in keeping them. What object? Alyosha watched him intently. We are discussing this gentleman's most interesting article, said Father Yosef, the librarian, addressing the elder and indicating Ivan. He brings forward much that is new, but I think the argument cuts both ways. It is an article written in answer to a book by an ecclesiastical authority on the question of the ecclesiastical court and the scope of its jurisdiction. I'm sorry I have not read your article, but I've heard of it, said the elder, looking keenly and intently at Ivan. It takes up a most interesting position, continued the father-librarian. As far as church jurisdiction is concerned he is apparently quite opposed to the separation of church from state. That's interesting, but in what sense, Father Sassima asked Ivan. The latter at last answered him, not condescendingly, as Alyosha had feared, but with modesty and reserve, with evident good will and apparently without the slightest arrière-pensée. I start from the position that this confusion of elements, that is, of the essential principles of church and state, will of course go on forever in spite of the fact that it is impossible for them to mingle and that the confusion of these elements cannot lead to any consistent or even normal results, for there is falsity at the very foundation of it. Compromise between the church and state in such questions as, for instance, jurisdiction is, to my thinking, impossible in any real sense. My clerical opponent maintains that the church holds a precise and defined position in the state. I maintain, on the contrary, that the church ought to include the whole state and not simply to occupy a corner in it, and if this is, for some reason, impossible at present, then it ought in reality to be set up as the direct and chief aim of the future development of Christian society. Perfectly true, Father Paisi, the silent and learned monk, assented with fervour and decision. The purest ultramontanism cried Musov impatiently, crossing and recrossing his legs. Oh, well, we have no mountains, cried Father Yosef, and turning to the elder he continued. Observe the answer he makes to the following fundamental and essential propositions of his opponent, who is, you must note, an ecclesiastic, first that no social organization can or ought to arrogate to itself power to dispose of the civic and political rights of its members, secondly that criminal and civil jurisdiction ought not to belong to the church and is inconsistent with its nature both as a divine institution and as an organization of men for religious objects, and finally, in a third place, the church is a kingdom not of this world. A most unworthy play upon words for an ecclesiastic, Father Paisi could not refrain from breaking in again. I have read the book which you have answered, he added, addressing Ivan, and was astounded at the words the church is a kingdom not of this world. If it is not of this world, then it cannot exist on earth at all. In the gospel the words not of this world are not used in that sense. To play with such words is indefensible. Our Lord Jesus Christ came to set up the church upon earth. The kingdom of heaven, of course, is not of this world but in heaven, but it is only entered through the church which has been founded and established upon earth. And so a frivolous play upon words in such a connection is unpardonable and improper. The church is, in truth, a kingdom and ordained to rule, and in the end must undoubtedly become the kingdom ruling over all the earth. For that we have the divine promise. He ceased speaking suddenly as though checking himself. After listening attentively and respectfully, Ivan went on, addressing the elder with perfect composure, and as before with ready cordiality. The whole point of my article lies in the fact that during the first three centuries Christianity only existed on earth in the church, and it was nothing but the church. When the Pagan Roman Empire desired to become Christian it inevitably happened that, by becoming Christian, it included the church but remained a pagan state in very many of its departments. In reality this was bound to happen. But Rome as a state retained too much of the pagan civilization and culture, as, for example, in the very objects and fundamental principles of the state. The Christian church, entering into the state, could, of course, surrender no part of its fundamental principles, the rock on which it stands, and could pursue no other aims than those which have been ordained and revealed by God himself, and among them that of drawing the whole world, and therefore the ancient pagan state itself, into the church. In that way, that is with a view to the future, it is not the church that should seek a definite position in the state, like every social organization, or as an organization of men for religious purposes, as my opponent calls the church. But on the contrary, every earthly state should be, in the end, completely transformed into the church, and should become nothing else but a church, rejecting every purpose in Congress with the aims of the church. And this will not degrade it in any way, or take from its honor and glory as a great state, nor from the glory of its rulers, but only turns it from a false, still pagan, and mistaken path to the true and rightful path which alone leads to the eternal goal. This is why the author of the book on the foundations of church jurisdiction would have judged correctly if, in seeking and laying down those foundations, he had looked upon them as a temporary compromise, inevitable in our sinful and imperfect days. But as soon as the author ventures to declare that the foundations which he predicates now, part of which Father Yosef just enumerated, are the permanent, essential, and eternal foundations, he is going directly against the church and its sacred and eternal vocation. That is the gist of my article. That is, in brief, Father Paese began again, laying stress on each word. According to certain theories only too clearly formulated in the nineteenth century, the church ought to be transformed into the state, as though this would be an advance from a lower to a higher form, so as to disappear into it, making way for science, for the spirit of the age and civilization. And if the church resists and is unwilling, some corner will be set apart for her in the state, and even that under control, and this will be so everywhere in all modern European countries. But Russian hopes and conceptions demand not that the church should pass from a lower into a higher type into the state, but, on the contrary, that the state should end by being worthy to become only the church, and nothing else. So be it. So be it. Well, I confess you've reassured me somewhat, Musoff said, smiling, again crossing his legs. So far as I understand then, the realization of such an ideal is infinitely remote, at the second coming of Christ. That says you please, it's a beautiful utopian dream of the abolition of war, diplomacy, banks, and so on, something after the fashion of socialism, indeed. But I imagine that it was all meant seriously, and that the church might be now going to try criminals and sentence them to beating, prison, and even death. But if there were none but the ecclesiastical court, the church would not even now sentence a criminal to prison or to death. Crime, and the way of regarding it, would inevitably change, not all at once, of course, but fairly soon. Yvonne replied calmly, without flinching.  Musoff glanced keenly at him. If everything became the church, the church would exclude all the criminal and disobedient and would not cut off their heads, Yvonne went on. I ask you, what would become of the excluded? He would be cut off, then, not only from men, as now, but from Christ. By his crime he would have transgressed not only against men, but against the church of Christ. This is so even now, of course, strictly speaking, but it is not clearly enunciated, and very, very often the criminal of today compromises with his conscience. I steal, he says, but I don't go against the church. I'm not an enemy of Christ. That's what the criminal of today is continually saying to himself, but when the church takes the place of the state, it will be difficult for him, in opposition to the church all over the world, to say, all men are mistaken, all in error, all mankind are the false church, I, a thief and murderer, am the only true Christian church. It will be very difficult to say this to himself. It requires a rare combination of unusual circumstances. Now, on the other side, take the church's own view of crime. Is it not bound to renounce the present almost pagan attitude, and to change from a mechanical cutting off of its tainted member for the preservation of society, as at present, into completely and honestly adopting the idea of the regeneration of the man, of his reformation and salvation? What do you mean? I fail to understand again, Yusof interrupted, some sort of dream again, something shapeless and even incomprehensible. What is excommunication? What sort of exclusion? I suspect you are simply amusing yourself, Yvon Fyodorovich.  If it were not for the Church of Christ there would be nothing to restrain the criminal from evil doing, no real chastisement for it afterwards, none that is but the mechanical punishment spoken of just now, which in the majority of cases only embitters the heart, and not the real punishment, the only effectual one, the only deterrent and softening one, which lies in the recognition of sin by conscience. How is that? May one inquire, asked Yusof with lively curiosity. Why, began the elder, all these sentences to exile with hard labour and formerly with flogging also, reform no one, and what's more, deter hardly a single criminal, and the number of crimes does not diminish but is continually on the increase, you must admit that. Consequently the security of society is not preserved, for although the obnoxious member is mechanically cut off and sent far away out of sight, another criminal always comes to take his place at once, and often two of them. If anything does preserve society even in our time and does regenerate and transform the criminal, it is only the law of Christ speaking in his conscience. It is only by recognizing his wrongdoing as a son of a Christian society, that is, of the Church, that he recognizes his sin against society, that is, against the Church, so that it is only against the Church and not against the State that the criminal of today can recognize that he has sinned. If society as a Church had jurisdiction, then it would know when to bring back from exclusion and to reunite to itself. Now the Church having no real jurisdiction but only the power of moral condemnation withdraws of her own accord from punishing the criminal actively. She does not excommunicate him, but simply persists in motherly exhortation of him. What is more the Church even tries to preserve all Christian communion with the criminal. She admits him to Church services, to the Holy Sacrament, gives him alms, and treats him more as a captive than as a convict. And what would become of the criminal, O Lord, if even the Christian society, that is, the Church, were to reject him even as the civil law rejects him and cuts him off? What would become of him if the Church punished him with her excommunication as the direct consequence of the secular law? There could be no more terrible despair, at least for a Russian criminal, for Russian criminals still have faith. Though who knows, perhaps then a fearful thing would happen, perhaps the despairing heart of the criminal would lose its faith, and then what would become of him. But the Church, like a tender, loving mother, holds aloof from active punishment herself, as the sinner is too severely punished already by the civil law, and there must be at least someone to have pity on him. The Church holds aloof, above all, because its judgment is the only one that contains the truth, and therefore cannot practically and morally be united to any other judgment, even as a temporary compromise. She can enter into no compact about that. The foreign criminal, they say, rarely repents, for the very doctrines of today confirm him in the idea that his crime is not a crime, but only a reaction against an unjustly oppressive force. Society cuts him off completely by a force that triumphs over him mechanically, and, so at least they say of themselves in Europe, accompanies this exclusion with hatred, forgetfulness, and the most profound indifference as to the ultimate fate of the erring brother. In this way it all takes place without the compassionate intervention of the Church, for in many cases there are no Churches there at all, for though ecclesiastics and splendid Church buildings remain, the Churches themselves have long ago striven to pass from Church into state and to disappear in it completely, so it seems at least in Lutheran countries, as for Rome it was proclaimed a state instead of a Church a thousand years ago, and so the criminal is no longer conscious of being a member of the Church and sinks into despair.  You can judge for yourself how it must end. In many cases it would seem to be the same with us, but the difference is that besides the established law courts we have the Church too, which always keeps up relations with the criminal as a dear and still precious son, and besides that there is still preserved, though only in thought, the judgment of the Church, which though no longer existing in practice is still living as a dream for the future, and is no doubt instinctively recognized by the criminal in his soul. What was said here just now is true too, that is, that if the jurisdiction of the Church were introduced in practice in its full force, that is, if the whole of the society were changed into the Church, not only the judgment of the Church would have influence on the reformation of the criminal, such as it never has now, but possibly also the crimes themselves would be incredibly diminished. And there can be no doubt that the Church would look upon the criminal and the crime of the future, in many cases quite differently, and would succeed in restoring the excluded, in restraining those who plan evil, and in regenerating the fallen. It is true, said Father Sassima with a smile, the Christian society now is not ready and is only resting on some seven righteous men, but as they are never lacking it will continue still unshaken in expectation of its complete transformation from a society almost heathen in character into a single universal and all-powerful Church. So be it, so be it. Even though at the end of the ages for it is ordained to come to pass. And there is no need to be troubled about times and seasons, for the secret of the times and seasons is in the wisdom of God in his foresight and his love, and what in human reckoning seems still afar off may by the divine ordinance be close at hand on the eve of its appearance, and so be it, so be it. So be it, so be it, Father Paisi repeated austerely and reverently. Strange, extremely strange, Musav pronounced, not so much with heat as with latent indignation. What strikes you as so strange, Father Yosef inquired cautiously. Why, it's beyond anything, cried Musav, suddenly breaking out. The state is eliminated and the Church is raised to the position of the state. It's not simply ultramontanism, it's arch-ultramontanism. It's beyond the dreams of Pope Gregory VII. You are completely misunderstanding it, said Father Paisi sternly. Understand, the Church is not to be transformed into the state. That is Rome and its dream. That is the third temptation of the devil. On the contrary, the state is transformed into the Church, will ascend and become a Church over the whole world, which is the complete opposite of ultramontanism and Rome and your interpretation, and is only the glorious destiny ordained for the Orthodox Church. This star will arise in the East. Musav was significantly silent. His whole figure expressed extraordinary personal dignity. A supercilious and condescending smile played on his lips. Ayasha watched it all with a throbbing heart. The whole conversation stirred him profoundly. He glanced casually at Raketen, who was standing immovable in his place by the door, listening and watching intently, though with downcast eyes. But from the color in his cheeks, Ayasha guessed that Raketen was probably no less excited, and he knew what caused his excitement. Allow me to tell you one little anecdote, gentlemen. Musav said impressively, with a peculiarly majestic air. Some years ago, soon after the coup d'état of December, I happened to be calling in Paris on an extremely influential personage in the government, and I met a very interesting man in his house. This individual was not precisely a detective, but was a sort of superintendent of a whole regiment of political detectives, a rather powerful position in its own way. I was prompted, by curiosity, to seize the opportunity of conversation with him, and as he had not come as a visitor, but as a subordinate official bringing a special report, and as he saw the reception given me by his chief, he deigned to speak with some openness, to a certain extent only, of course. He was rather courteous than open, as Frenchmen know how to be courteous, especially to a foreigner. But I thoroughly understood him. The subject was the socialist revolutionaries who were at that time persecuted. I will quote only one most curious remark dropped by this person. We are not particularly afraid, said he, of all these socialists, anarchists, infidels, and revolutionists. We keep watch on them, and know all their goings on. But there are a few peculiar men among them who believe in God and are Christians, but at the same time are socialists. These are the people we are most afraid of. They are dreadful people. The socialist who is a Christian is more to be dreaded than a socialist who is an atheist. The words struck me at the time, and now they have suddenly come back to me here, gentlemen.  Father Paisie asked directly, without beating about the bush. But before Piotr Alexandrovich could think what to answer, the door opened, and the guest, so long expected, Dmitri Piotrovich, came in. They had, in fact, given up expecting him, and his sudden appearance caused some surprise for a moment.


Mae'n bwysig i Gweithgoedd Cymru, ac yn Gweithgoedd Cymru mae'n cael ei wneud i'n gweithio'r gyrdd y maen nhw'n gweithio'n bwysig i gweithio'n bwysig i'n gweithio'n bwysig. Felly am gyda'r學b y Ymddangodd Universitych, rwy'n gweithio'n gweld bod i chi'n meddwl i'r gwahau gwahanol sydd ymddangoddau'r gwahodd. for students and I would urge you to check the website and finally most glamorous of all my job is to tell you that the toilets can be found in each corner of the building we're not expecting a fire alarm so if there is if the fire alarm goes off please do follow each member's staff to lead you out to the points of safety. We will be filming the lecture this morning it will be available on the website along with the transcript however the question and answer session that follows the lecture will not be filmed so that's just your way of that and without any further ado can I please welcome the Lord Speaker. Thank you very much Claire. Good morning all of you. Thank you for coming today despite the rain despite also I think a demonstration outside of which you had to fight your way through but many of your students so I'm sure you're in sympathy. My theme today is the Lord Speaker and international relations but before getting to the international relations I thought I ought to say a few words about the Lord Speaker part of the title. The Lord Speaker is the presiding officer of the House of Lords. The House of Commons is chaired by Mr Speaker and the House of Lords by me. My role is largely domestic I sit on the wool sack in the chamber but I have a less active role than Mr Speaker with no powers to call order or to rule on procedure. I play a large part within the government governance structure of the House of Lords for example I chair the House Committee which is the key strategic committee and I represent at the House it is in this last context the representation part that I have an international role. Until 2006 the Lord Chancellor was the Speaker of the Lords at that time the Lord Chancellor wore three hats as well as being the Speaker of the House of Lords he was a senior member of the Cabinet and he was also the head of the judiciary in England and Wales. Many people thought this to be a serious confusion about or between the separation of powers between the executive the judiciary and the legislature. Another consequence of this system was that the Lord Chancellor had so many roles to fulfil that he had little time for representing the House of Lords to other parliaments. Where representation was essential the function was usually delegated to the chairman of committees or the chairman of the European Union committees about which more later. However once the role of Lord Speaker became distinct from the position of Lord Chancellor in 2006 the House of Lords involvement in inter-parliamentary affairs began to grow steadily. This was predicted before the role was established the committee set up to define the Lord Speaker's role took evidence from Lord Grenfell who is then the chairman of the European Union Committee. He said that the demand for the houses speaker overseas would increase once there was someone other parliaments could identify as the embodiment of the House of Lords. With his three-part role this was not something that the Lord Chancellor could easily do however I am able to be the embodiment of the House of Lords and that's really why I'm here today. There are three ways in which I represent the House in an international context and in order of the frequency with which they occur in my diary they are as follows. I receive visitors from overseas parliaments usually these are speakers of other parliaments I attend speakers conferences whenever they may take place and I visit other parliaments on a bilateral basis. Taking each in turn the nature of visits from other parliaments can vary in the main I meet delegations that include the speakers of other upper chambers. In recent times these have included the Thai Senate, the Botswana House of Chiefs and the Canadian and Australian Senates. However from time to time I also meet speakers from lower chambers the Moroccan House of Representatives for example or from unicameral parliaments like the Vietnamese National Assembly or the Macedonian Parliament. These are usually quite formal affairs and are part of a programme that will include all sorts of other political and official meetings for the delegations. Ambassadors also pay courtesy calls to be from time to time. The conferences I go to are usually aimed specifically at speakers. For example there are meetings of speakers of upper chambers, the Association of European Senates, the conference of EU speakers, the conference of speakers and presiding officers of the Commonwealth known as Seaswalk, the Council of Europe speakers conference. These focus on broader themes potentially applicable to all parliaments. To take some recent examples the themes have been challenges facing representative democracy today, how parliaments can engage with the public and the impact of minority or coalition governments on parliamentary business. The House of Lords receives invitations to a variety of other conferences. Many of these are convened to discuss particular policy areas and I as a Lord Speaker would not routinely attend these occasions because I have no policy remit. My role is to be politically neutral because I represent all parties and all groups within the House. That is not to say however that the House of Lords is left unrepresented. Together with advisers I decide whether a conference is of sufficient use and sufficiently parliamentary to justify our presence. Frequently other members of the House will go if they have an interest in or responsibility for a given policy area. Likewise there are conferences aimed directly at those committees that scrutinise EU legislation and are convened by the Parliament of the country currently holding the EU presidency or by the European Parliament itself. The House of Lords has one of the most comprehensive committee structures in Europe for scrutinising European Union activity. Since 1974 the House has had a select committee on European matters and currently that committee has six further subcommittees so I automatically refer such invitations to the EU committee and indeed subcommittees. As you might imagine there are all sorts of inter-parliamentary conferences that bring together parliamentarians to scrutinise EU affairs and the House of Lords is more often than not very well represented. So next time you hear that the EU rides rush shod over national legislation I do recommend that you look at the work of the EU committees to see the level of scrutiny to which proposed legislation is actually subjected. I visit other parliaments but only once or twice a year for two main reasons. The first is to do with the non-political nature of my role. In many other countries the speaker of a parliamentary chamber will be a prominent national politician. For example last month I went to Russia at the invitation of the chairman of the Russian Federation's upper chamber, the Federation Council. The chairman of the Russian Federation's upper chamber was listed in Russia's constitutions after the president and the prime minister. The current chair, Mrs Matvienko, who is third in terms of power in Russia, was previously the governor of St Petersburg. This is by no means unusual. There are many countries where being the speaker of a chamber is one step on a longer political career path, but this is not the way it has done in the UK. Speaker Burko of the House of Commons, for example, held some shadow front bench positions and was certainly an active back venture before becoming speaker of the House of Commons, but it would be a notable break with tradition if he were to take a senior governor position when he steps down as speaker. Similarly, I came into the House of Lords from an entirely non-political background and I have no plans at all to become a high-flying political career after my speakership ends. This means that the agendas for bilateral speaker meetings can be a little asymmetrical. To use the Russian example again, many of the people I met in Russia wanted to talk to me about the UK's visa regime for Russians, not something that the Lord Speaker is involved in at all. I on the other hand wanted to talk about matters such as the relationships between the Federation Council and the State Duma and what we might learn from that for the Westminster context. Not something as politically topical as why we let so many oligarchs live in London and buy up our football clubs. They are very cross about that. A way around this is to repeat what Members of my Chamber are saying about an issue, but without expressing a personal view, personal political view. Despite these asymmetries, there is still value to be gained, I think, from these meetings, which I will return to in a minute. The second reason why I don't visit other parliaments more often is purely one to do with timetabling. The primary duty of myself and Mr Speaker is to preside over the business in our chambers, where the majority of parliamentary business is conducted. Both houses sit at least four days a week with around 140 to 150 sitting days per year. Other parliaments work very differently. The Austrian National Council, for example, has plenary sittings only two or three days every month, with the rest of its work being conducted in committees. The Australian Senate sits around 60 days per year. The upshot of this is that I have far less time to travel than is the case with other speakers. I'm scrupulous about being in the Chamber and about sitting on the wall sack for every sitting day. So far I've only missed, I think, one day, one sitting day, and that was to attend an inter-parliamentary conference. Another way that I'm involved in international relations is the Commonwealth Parliamentary Association UK branch and the British Group Inter-Parliamentary Union, for those of which I am the joint president together with Mr Speaker. These two organisations seek to foster and improve links and understanding between parliaments. They do this by organising visits by UK parliamentarians to overseas parliaments and by arranging similar inbound visits. For example, before becoming Lord Speaker, I was a member of CPA delegations to Swaziland, Namibia Rwanda, Mozambique and an IPU delegation to Senegal. Also, I have a role as joint president of both organisations to approve outward delegations formally. In addition to visits by the CPA, the Commonwealth Parliamentary Association IPU, hold conferences and put together thematic programmes to discuss and promote shared parliamentary issues. The CPA and IPU collaborated on an international conference on gender and politics the week before last. This conference involved parliamentarians from around 60 countries. It covered themes such as how women are represented in politics and what the barriers are to political engagement for both genders. I chaired the opening plenary session of this conference in this room, and I am always willing to take part in such events, which are absolutely fascinating. There is one final international aspect of my role. I represent the House during ceremonial events, including state visits. For example, when the President of Indonesia visited a week before last, I, together with Mr Speaker, officially welcomed him to Parliament, and we will do the same when the EMEA of Kuwait comes to Parliament next week. So, what is the point of all this contact?  First, international engagement helps to share best practice between parliaments. In the case of gender and politics example, the conference was, as I said, a fascinating series of seminars in which parliamentarians discussed how best to ensure that barriers to political engagement based on gender could be overcome and how parliaments could become more representative of their country's populations. These are issues that affect parliaments the world over. These get-togethers promote the sharing of best practice and experience between long-standing parliamentary democracies and with emerging ones. For example, I recently met the President of the Assembly of Kosovo. Kosovo is not just an emerging democracy, it's an emerging nation. Parliamentarians from both houses have worked closely with their counterparts in Kosovo to help establish their Parliament, to share with them our experiences and solutions to common parliamentary problems. In fact, in the case of Kosovo, the House of Lords, together with the Parliaments of Hungary and Denmark, is a member of a twinning project funded by the EU Commission which has involved the House providing six clerks to work closely with the Kosovoans in the establishment of their parliamentary assembly. This is not, by any means, untypical of the international work that parliaments do through their overseas offices or through the CPA and IPU. In recent years, delegations have come to the Lords from Iraq, definitely an emerging democracy, from Bhutan, a new parliament in a country surrounded by giants like China and India, Kenya, where a unicameral parliament system is being slowly transformed and with some difficulty into a bicameral one. So the list goes on. And I hope the coming years will include parliamentarians, visits from parliamentarians and links with parliamentarians, from Egypt, Libya to Tunisia and other countries of the Arab Spring. Another aspect of inter-parliamentary dialogue is being part of the wider diplomatic relations between countries. I said earlier that there was value in speaker-to-speaker meetings despite the asymmetry of the dialogue at times. My visit to Russia exemplified this. As I think many of you may know, the relations between the governments of the UK and Russia are not as cordial as might be wished. The murder of Alexander Litmanenko in London, Britain's refusal to extradite Boris Berejowski to Russia, the disagreements between Russia and Britain over Iraq and Syria have, among other matters, soured relations, profoundly soured relations. The consequence of this is that the Russian parliament, as opposed to the government, has been keen to encourage good relations between our parliaments. This is something we've been very happy to participate in. Strong parliamentary relations mean that, even when inter-government links break down, all is not lost. In that context, perhaps I could also mention that earlier today, just before I arrived here, the speaker of the Israeli gnesid called in order to discuss clearly the situation between Gaza and Israel, and I suspect very strongly in order to convey the views of the Israeli parliament, but also perhaps to learn something more about the results of the debate we had in the House of Lords on the situation in the Middle East yesterday. In a way, that also exemplifies the fact that it is good, it is always good to talk. Sometimes people don't want to listen, sometimes they just want to talk, but nevertheless it is good to have those sort of relationships, because one never quite knows when you might be able to use them and in what particular way. A further benefit comes from the fact that so many issues today cut across national boundaries. Such issues require international action at government level and therefore frequently require inter-parliamentary scrutiny. An example of this would be defence. Much of the UK's defence policy is formulated in the context of commitments to international organisations such as NATO. In order to ensure that parliaments can scrutinise defence policy at both the national and international level, inter-parliamentary co-operation is needed. In the case of NATO, this is done via the NATO parliamentary assembly, which brings together parliamentarians from the NATO signatory countries. Another example of the need for inter-parliamentary scrutiny would be the human rights work carried out by the Council of Europe, which is scrutinised by the Council of Europe parliamentary assembly. However, as political issues become increasingly global with government, sometimes they are not always working together through formalised arrangements, it is increasingly important for parliamentarians to have a collective global voice. The House of Lords works to contribute to this global voice by means of the activities that I have already spoken to about. I hope I have given you an idea of the range and the variety of inter-parliamentary work that goes on. I have given you an impression of the value of this work. It may not always be clear. There is not always an immediate outcome to certain kinds of parliamentary dialogue or certain incidents of parliamentary dialogue. The impact of much parliamentary work is usually difficult, very difficult to assess. Such work is so often part of a movement or tide of influence rather than a single measurable action. Before I became a member of the House of Lords, I saw firsthand the influence of parliaments and parliamentarians working together. For example, when I was involved in the international committee for the defence of Salman Rushdie, we worked closely with parliamentarians throughout the world and with bodies like the Council of Europe Parliamentary Assembly to ensure that governments did not re-establish full relations with Iran, despite the many political, diplomatic and economic pressures to do so. I do believe that by working together, parliaments can better influence and scrutinise their own governments and can learn from one another. My role representing the House abroad, I do hope, plays a part in fostering such co-operation. Thank you. Lord Speaker, thank you for a fascinating speech, even for someone like me who works here. I learnt so much from that and I think it's so helpful to have a reiteration of the bread of the road.


Going on everyone. Sam here with late in sports cards ripping 23 putting the absolute in prison football hobby at three box Mix number six random team style Look again at your random results as always these are on the website under the results tab as well as link in chat Steven V. Chiefs Robert B. Rams up top Shane W. Bengels and Nicholas S with the Jets on the bottom. So good luck Let's do it. Let's do it again 21 to go on the next mixer everybody. Let's get that filled up and ripping Start with absolute She get lost in the storefront. I know when jumbo comes in. It's never a good day It's never a good day to be anybody when chumbo's in chat man. It's not good Not good at all Andy Dalton and Robert Woods Red Brock Purdy to a five nice one there congrats Niners to a five Brock Purdy Jacob F go. That's awesome, man Got Will Anderson gone to the Texans rookie premiere materials autos congrats Houston.  Ah the 249 for the commanders Jersey ball and patch We're gonna say something about the scary No, it's it's applicable because he's scary Terry No, IE scaring generally causes people to yell Go scary Sam there Miles Sanders and DK Mechaf. I am scary man The 50 is Devana Shane For the Dolphins Peter Skoranski for the Titans 23 and 25 on the auto some O line love there love it Colin taking a spot in the next one down to 20 and to 99 is Hinden Hooker for the Lions 20 to go now everybody almost into the teams almost into the teams on the next one. Thanks Colin appreciate you buddy Draft diamonds do a hundred Jason Kelsey for the Eagles And then James Connor base We've got trade talker to 275 for the Raiders Javante Williams tools of the trade 82 and 99 on the Jersey ball and auto For the Broncos congrats Denver and to it 199 Isaiah Pacheco for the Chiefs round dogs Is Jumbo a stinky day for me too? Who else would qualify That is a Lions ready to feast to 104 the Lions On the introductions and Jordan love to 275 Sam La Porta 50 pairs Johnson, Jr. Rookie Auto for the Cardinals and Matt Jude on the 199 absolute heroes Jersey card Dusty with a spot down to 19 everybody Dusty makes Dusty Dusty B 19 to go on the next one everybody Danny of Dia. Thank you Vaughan 19 to go Smelly Got blue Isaiah Hodgins to 50 25 23 of 50 the Giants That is a Dante Hall human joystick auto to 199 for the Chiefs signature standouts And a Jonathan Mingo war room rookie Jersey card to 199 Grats Panthers there you go Carolina back Prescott and Lamar add it to me Addable war a to 100 for the Colts And in O'Connell to 399 Jersey rookie Jersey Jersey ball auto on the rookie Premier Congrats there Raiders and then two-color patch championship gear Dion Branch three of 99 Three of 99. All right on to prism now everybody one box. Oh prism. Thank you Danny of Dia. Thank you Vaughan Silver Cam Hayward Orange of Khalil Herbert to 249 Bears Rishi rice rookie and Dalton concave rookie silver Justin Herbert Purple Power Dak to 49 39 of 49 Add it to me wa odd e bar a at e bar a Ivan Payson do so on. Thank you Vaughan Add it to me wa. It's quite the name man Goes by rich Montre to 125 adding Evan Ingram For the Jaguars, that's Jalen Carter and Shawn Clifford Josh Allen Brett farf to 199 on the blue wave Marvin Mims and a there is Davis Silver rookie juju Brents Tom bar that is a Brett barf to 249 for the Packers Dorian Williams and Jaren Hall Oh my god, dude Imagine no Silver a Mari Cooper That is a Kyron Williams Silver Auto congrats on that Rams pretty nice Take that for sure Pete Skaronsky and Quentin Johnson Thank you Chris with a spot of the next one Charlie P with spot in the next one. We are down to 17 to go now everybody Yeah, farf rainbow starter K. You're not wrong SB 17 to go on the next mixer oh Blue ice off Kaderia Stoney to 99 Schoonmaker and Nolan Smith silver at Mack Jones 80 bucks, I believe Think it's 79 99 Tank Dell to 149 there you go Texans very nice And then a CJ Stroud rookie right behind it and Ty J spears to 175 Michael Thomas for the Saints Bryce young rookie and Jaden Reed rookie Jaden do you read over? Me and Jake Tell you know it's funny nobody in the right mind Justin Fields to 199 DJ more that's actually very true as well congrats on that bears till he blows you jump in Mingo He's got it. You better be ready CJ Stroud fireworks to 199 Tay Banks for the Giants Mackintosh and Felix on the weekend with Zoma Silver Emergent Jamar Chase. We've got nice Jordan Addison Silver rookie auto going to shorts Congrats shorts. Good one there, buddy. Silver rookie auto Jordan Addison Christian Gonzalez and Zach Charbonnet quick recap here everybody We'll continue on that's our relics. That is gonna be jerseys of Dion Branch Jonathan Mingo Matt Judon Isaiah Pacheco Henden Hooker Terry McClurin to five Brock Purdy Jordan Addison Kyron Williams Aiden O'Connell Dante Hall Paris Johnson Javante Williams Peter Skironsky and Will Anderson Jr. For the Texans I'll do it for the break everybody. Thanks again for the film another one of these mixers up right now