By Leo Tolstoy
Well, if you are religious, then this little fable ought to appeal to right to you. It is an awful tale of a man going to town to collect his debts then buy a sheep’s skin to replace his and his wife’s long worn out winter coat. Collecting only 20 Kopecs, the man drinks that away and then finds a naked man freezing in the street on his way home. He was unsure of what kind of man he could be, but after a couple of false starts, he finally went to the man and gave some of his clothes to him and brought him home.
His wife was of course sure that he brought a vagrant home after drinking away the money, and she was very angry, but eventually, after a lot of telling her husband off, she decided to take pity on the man brought home, and fed him. The dweller of the house told the visitor the next morning that he is welcome to stay, but he would have to work. Over the course of six years the visitor worked well for his host, was very serious, and became well renowned for his craftsmanship.
A rich man came to get boots made from expensive German leather and threatened that they be right or he would bring misery. The visitor, Michael, took the job, and proceeded to make slippers for the rich man. It put an awful fright in the man whose house is stayed and worked at, Simon, because of the threats from the rich man. But before boots could be collected, the next day the rich man’s servant came and asked he have burial slippers made instead.
After six years had gone by, twin girls were brought to the house and shoes requested for them. Michael seemed to know them, and finally when Simon came to understand why, it was because Michael was an Angel who was fallen and sent to learn what Men live by. That was Love. He explained he was sent to take the spirit of the girls’ mother, but he could not because she wanted to keep them safe until they stood. He was sent back to take her after taking pity on her, and she died and rolled on one of the girls. The neighbor took them in, and when she tried to nurse them, she was reluctant to nurse the limp one, but did eventually, and they both lived. So, Michael saw the acts of love in the neighbor nursing and raising the children, in Simon and his wife taking him in, and that mankind may plan for a year but do not know if they will live for a day.
The story is a little more nuanced than I have put it, as it is longer than I have reported on it. But as I said, it is very much about an Angel not doing God’s bidding and killing a mother of newborns, then getting pissed and tossing him out to live six years among men to learn what they live on, only to take him back after he saw more death, and hunger, and poverty, and understand that when the boss says go leave two newborns parentless, then get at it. I am sure it means to convey a good message, but I don’t think it entirely does. Like much of scripture it teaches that man must have morals as taught them by a cruel and selfish being that rules absolutely from the skies. I don’t buy into it. But that’s me. I’d rather think that kindness is from within a person, that his wife need not be portrayed as angry and so unwilling to know what her husband has to say while he is portrayed the innocent victim of her apparently natural vile, and that there need be no all-seeing-eye looking down on us from above, and casting us out for the smallest infraction. Certainly, I don’t think there is anything moral about killing the mother of newborns, which I will add here, was in the same week their father was crushed to death by a tree. There is nothing moral about dumping your employees out naked in the cold for not performing the required hit on a woman. And there is nothing moral about poverty at all. So, the whole story fails, in that respect. But it is a Russian tale about life in a village, so it is probably from that viewpoint, right on the mark.
Over-all I did not like the story. The writing, however, especially as compared to Fyodor Dostoevsky, was much more pleasant and flowed better. The story was snappier and moved along at a pleasant clip. I certainly enjoyed Tolstoy’s style much better. I was on from one event to another before I had the chance to form a yawn. But perhaps I am still biased by the awful childishness of White Nights. What’s certain is I look forward to further reading, and will perhaps make another attempt at War and Peace now that I’m older and giving real effort to a bit of reading in the classics.