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Tolstoy and His Message
Å罺ÅäÀÌ¿Í ±×ÀÇ ¸Þ½ÃÁö
By Ernest Howard Crosby
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Chapter 1
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Á¦ 1 Àå
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Tolstoy's Boyhood and Manhood
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Å罺ÅäÀÌÀÇ ¼Ò³â½ÃÀý ¹× ¼º³â½ÃÀý
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They tell a story of Leo Tolstoy which may or may not be true, but which at any rate
is characteristic of the man, and brings into relief the peculiar dramatic
quality of his mind. He was a student at the University of Kazan, and had only
spent a few months at that great Russian seat of learning, when he was invited
to attend a ball at the house of a nobleman, who lived upon his estate near the
city. It was a bitter cold winter night, and the snow lay heavy upon the ground
and young Tolstoy went out from town in a sleigh driven by a peasant-coachman,
for there was then no separate liveried class in Russia, and the farm-hand in
summer might become a driver in winter. Tolstoy passed the night in feasting and
dancing, enjoying himself as a youth of eighteen would be likely to under the
circumstances, and when he came out at an early hour of the morning wrapped in
his furs, he was horrified to find his coachman half-frozen to death. It was
with the greatest difficulty, and only after hours of chafing and rubbing, that
the man was brought back to consciousness and his life finally saved.
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»ç¶÷µéÀº Áø½ÇÀÌµç ¾Æ´Ïµç, Å罺ÅäÀÌ¿¡ ´ëÇØ ¸»µéÀ» ÇÑ´Ù, ±×·¯³ª ¾î·µç ±×´Â Ư¡ÀûÀÎ »ç¶÷À̸ç, ±×ÀÇ
¸¶À½¿¡ ÀÖ¾î¼ Æ¯À¯ÇÑ ±ØÀûÀÎ ¼º°ÝÀÌ µÎµå·¯Áø´Ù. ±×´Â Ä«ÀÜ ´ëÇÐÀÇ ÇлýÀ̾úÀ¸¸ç, ±×Åä·Ï °Å´ëÇÑ ·¯½Ã¾ÆÀÇ ¹è¿òÀÇ ±ÇÁ¿¡¼ ¿ÀÁ÷ ¸î ´Þ¸¸À»
º¸³ÂÀ¸¸ç, ¾î´À ±ÍÁ·ÀÇ ÁýÀÇ ¹«µµÈ¸¿¡ Âü¿©Çϵµ·Ï ÃÊ´ë ¹Þ¾ÒÀ» ´ç½Ã, ±×´Â µµ½Ã ±ÙóÀÇ ±×ÀÇ »çÀ¯Áö¿¡ »ì°í ÀÖ¾ú´Ù. ±×¶§´Â ¸Å¿ì Ãß¿î °Ü¿ï
¹ãÀ̾úÀ¸¸ç, ¶¥ À§¿¡´Â ´«ÀÌ µÎ²®°Ô ´þÇô ÀÖ¾ú°í ÀþÀº Å罺ÅäÀÌ´Â ³ó±ºÀÎ ¸¶ºÎ°¡ ²ô´Â ´«½ä¸Å¸¦ Ÿ°í µµ½Ã¿¡¼ ³ª¿Ô´Ù, ¿Ö³ÄÇÏ¸é ±× ´ç½Ã ·¯½Ã¾Æ¿¡´Â
º°µµÀÇ Á¦º¹À» ÀÔÀº °è±ÞÀÌ ¾ø¾úÀ¸¸ç, ¿©¸§Ã¶ÀÇ ³óÀå ³ëµ¿ÀÚ´Â °Ü¿ïö ¸¶ºÎ°¡ µÇ¾ú±â ¶§¹®ÀÌ´Ù. Å罺ÅäÀÌ´Â , ±×·± »óȲµé¿¡¼ 18¼¼ÀÇ Ã»³âÀ̸é
Áñ±â´Â °Íó·³, ±×³¯ ¹ãÀ» ÆÄƼ¿Í ÃãÀ¸·Î º¸³ÂÀ¸¸ç, ¸ðÇǸ¦ µÑ·¯½Î°í ¾ÆÄ§ ÀÏÂï ¹ÛÀ¸·Î ³ª¿ÔÀ» ¶§, ±×ÀÇ ¸¶ºÎ°¡ ¹ÝÂë ¾ó¾î¼ Á׾°í ÀÖ´Â °ÍÀ»
¹ß°ßÇÏ°í ¿À½ÏÇÏ¿´´Ù. ±× »ç¶÷ÀÌ ÀǽÄÀ» ȸº¹ÇÏ°í ¸¶Ä§³» »ý¸íÀ» °ÇÁø °ÍÀº ¾öû³ª°Ô Èûµé°Ô, ±×¸®°í ¿ÀÁ÷ ¸î ½Ã°£ µ¿¾È ºñºñ°í ¹®Áö¸£°í
³ª¼¿´´Ù. |
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This
scene remained graven upon the heart of the young student, and he could not
dismiss it from his thoughts. Why, thought he, should I, a young nobleman of
eighteen, who have never been of any use to any one and perhaps never shall be
-- why should I be permitted to pass the night in this great house, elegantly
furnished and comfortably warmed, and to consume in wine and delicacies the
value of many days' labour; while this poor peasant, the representative of the
class that builds and heats the houses and provides the food and drink, is shut
out in the cold? He saw with the true instinct of a seer, that it was no
accidental event, but the picture in miniature of the civilization of the day in
which one class sowed and reaped, and another enjoyed the harvest. Tolstoy took
this lesson so to heart that he abandoned his university career as a selfish
luxury, and went down to his country estate, which the early death of his
parents had already placed in his hands, with the determination of devoting his
life to the serfs whose interests he found entrusted to him. It was thus a
dramatic incident which formed the first turning-point in Tolstoy's life, and we
shall see that again and again he has been influenced by such sights when book
or argument could never have moved him.
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ÀÌ Àå¸éÀº ÀþÀº ÇлýÀÇ °¡½¿¿¡ °¢ÀεǾúÀ¸¸ç, ±×´Â ±×ÀÇ »ý°¢µé·ÎºÎÅÍ ¶³ÃĹö¸± ¼ö°¡ ¾ø¾ú´Ù. ¿Ö, ±×´Â
»ý°¢Çß´Ù, ³ª´Â 18¼¼ÀÇ ±ÍÁ·À¸·Î¼, ¾î´À ´©±¸¿¡°Ôµµ ¾Æ¹«Â¦¿¡µµ ¾µ¸ð°¡ ¾ø¾ú´ø °ÍÀÏ±î ±×¸®°í ¾Æ¸¶µµ °áÄÚ ±×·¯Áö ¸øÇÒ °ÍÀΰ¡ - ¿Ö ³ª´Â ÀÌ·±
°Å´ëÇÑ, ¿ì¾ÆÇÏ°Ô Àå½ÄµÈ ±×¸®°í Æí¾ÈÇÏ°Ô µû¶æÇÑ Áý¿¡¼, ¸¹Àº ³¯µéÀÇ ³ëµ¿ÀÇ ´ë°¡ÀÎ Æ÷µµÁÖ¿Í ¸ÀÀÖ´Â À½½ÄµéÀ» ¼ÒºñÇÏ¸é¼ ¹ãÀ» Áö»õµµ·Ï
Çã¿ëµÇ¾î¾ß¸¸ Çϸç; ÇÑÆí ÀÌ °¡³ÇÑ ³óºÎ´Â, ÁýµéÀ» Áþ°í À½½Ä°ú À½·á¸¦ ÁغñÇÏ´Â °è±ÞÀÇ ´ëÇ¥ÀÚÀ̸é¼, ÃßÀ§ ¼Ó¿¡ °¤Çô ÀÖ¾î¾ß Çϴ°¡? ±×´Â
¼±ÁöÀÚÀÇ ÁøÁ¤ÇÑ º»´ÉÀ» °¡Áö°í¼, ±×°ÍÀÌ ¿ì¿¬ÇÑ »ç°ÇÀÌ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, ÇÑ °è±ÞÀº ¾¾¸¦ »Ñ¸®°í °ÅµÎ¸ç, ´Ù¸¥ »ç¶÷µéÀº ±× °á½ÇÀ» Áñ±â´Â ½Ã´ëÀÇ ¹®¸íÀÇ
Ãà¼ÒÆÇÀÓÀ» ±ú´Þ¾Ò´Ù. Å罺ÅäÀÌ´Â ÀÌ ±³ÈÆÀ» °¡½¿¿¡ ±íÀÌ ¹Þ¾ÆµéÀÌ°í¼ ÀÚ½ÅÀÇ ´ëÇÐ °æ·ÂÀ» À̱âÀûÀÎ »çÄ¡¶ó°í Æ÷±âÇϰí, ºÎ¸ðÀÇ À̸¥ Á×À½ÀÌ À̹Ì
±×ÀÇ ¼öÁß¿¡ ³Ñ°ÜÁØ, ±×ÀÇ ½Ã°ñ ÀúÅÃÀ¸·Î ³»·Á°¡¼, ±×°¡ ãÀº °ü½ÉÀÌ ±×¿¡°Ô ¸Ã°ÜÁØ ³ó³ëµé¿¡°Ô ÀÚ½ÅÀÇ »îÀ» ¹ÙÄ¡±â·Î °á½ÉÇÏ¿´´Ù. ±×°ÍÀº ±×¸®ÇÏ¿©
Å罺ÅäÀÌÀÇ »î¿¡¼ ù ¹øÂ° ÀüȯÁ¡À» Çü¼ºÇÑ ±ØÀûÀÎ »ç°ÇÀ̾úÀ¸¸ç, ¿ì¸®´Â ±×°¡ °è¼ÓÇØ¼ Ã¥À̳ª ³í¸®µµ °áÄÚ ±×¸¦ ¿òÁ÷ÀÌÁö ¸øÇßÀ» ±×¿Í
°°Àº ±¤°æµé¿¡ ÀÇÇØ¼ ¿µÇâÀ» ¹Þ¾Æ ¿ÔÀ½À» º¸°Ô µÉ °ÍÀÌ´Ù.. |
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The
estate to which Tolstoy retired was the one on which he was born on September 9,
1828, and on which he still lives. Yasnaia Poliana (for such is its name,
meaning Clearfield) is situated at a distance of ten miles from the large
manufacturing town of Toula and about 120 miles south of Moscow, and it is here
that he has passed most of his life.
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Å罺ÅäÀ̰¡ ¹°·¯³ª ÀÖ´ø »çÀ¯Áö´Â 1828³â 9¿ù 9ÀÏ ±×°¡ žÀ» ¶§ÀÇ °ÍÀ̾úÀ¸¸ç, ±×°÷¿¡¼ ±×´Â
¿©ÀüÈ÷ »ç´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ¾ß½º³ª¾ß Æú¸®¾ß³ª (À̰ÍÀÌ ±× »çÀ¯ÁöÀÇ À̸§À̸ç, 'Æ®ÀÎ µéÆÇ'À» ÀǹÌÇß´Ù)´Â °Å´ëÇÑ Á¦Á¶¾÷ µµ½ÃÀÎ Åø¶ó·ÎºÎÅÍ 10 ¸¶ÀÏ
±×¸®°í ¸ð½ºÅ©¹Ù ³²ÂÊÀ¸·ÎºÎÅÍ 120 ¸¶ÀÏÀÇ °Å¸®¿¡ À§Ä¡Çϸç, ¹Ù·Î ¿©±â¿¡¼ ±×´Â ÀÚ½ÅÀÇ »îÀÇ ´ëºÎºÐÀ» º¸³Â´Ù. |
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He
gives us some account of his boyhood in
My Confession, and we may easily
fill out the picture from the story of little Nicholas, in his romance Boyhood,
Adolescence, Youth. We here have a speaking representation of life on a
Russian country estate of that period, with its patriarchal habits, its strange
mixture of aristocratic manners and democratic familiarity, its easy-going
shiftlessness and its quaint superstitions. The boy himself is brought up in the
Orthodox Russian Church amongst his brothers and sisters under the charge of a
German tutor, but we infer that he learns most from the simple peasantry, and
from field and forest. He is a bright, quick, sensitive, affectionate lad, but
far from good-looking, for he makes the sad discovery in the looking-glass that
there is nothing aristocratic in his face, that on the contrary he is for all
the world like a peasant, or "moujik."
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±×´Â ³ªÀÇ °í¹é ¿¡¼ ±×ÀÇ ¼Ò³â ½ÃÀý¿¡ ´ëÇØ ÀϺΠÀ̾߱⸦ ÀüÇØÁÖ¸ç, ¿ì¸®´Â ½±»ç¸®,
±×ÀÇ ¿¬¾Ö¼Ò¼³ ¼Ò³â½ÃÀý, »çÃá±â, û³â ¿¡¼, ¾î¸° ´ÏÄݶó½ºÀÇ À̾߱â·ÎºÎÅÍ ±× ¸ð½ÀÀ» ä¿ï ¼ö ÀÖÀ» °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ¿ì¸®´Â ¿©±â¼ ±×
´ç½ÃÀÇ ·¯½Ã¾Æ ½Ã°ñ »çÀ¯Áö¿¡¼ÀÇ »î - ±×°÷ÀÇ °¡ºÎÀåÀûÀΠdz½Àµé, ±×°÷ÀÇ ±âÀÌÇÑ °ü·áÁÖÀÇÀû ÇàÅÂµé ¹× ¹ÎÁÖÁÖÀÇÀû Ä£¹Ð°¨ÀÇ È¥ÇÕ, ±×°÷ÀÇ ½±°Ô
³ªÅ¸³ª´Â ¹«±â·ÂÇÔ ±×¸®°í ±×°÷ÀÇ Áø±âÇÑ ¹Ì½Åµé - ¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ÀÖ´Â ±×´ë·ÎÀÇ ¼³¸íÀ» µè°Ô µÈ´Ù. ¼Ò³â ÀÚ½ÅÀº µ¶ÀÏÀÎ °¡Á¤ ±³»çÀÇ º¸È£¾Æ·¡ ±×ÀÇ
ÇüÁ¦µé ¹× ´©ÀÌµé °¡¿îµ¥¼ ·¯½Ã¾Æ Á¤Åë ±³È¸ ¾È¿¡¼ ¾çÀ°µÇÁö¸¸, ´ëºÎºÐ ¼Ò¹ÚÇÑ ³ó¹Îµé, µéÆÇ ±×¸®°í ½£À¸·ÎºÎÅÍ ¹è¿ì°í ÀÖÀ½À» ½Ã»çÇÑ´Ù. ±×´Â
¹à°í ¿µ¸®ÇÏ¸ç ¹Î°¨ÇÏ¸ç ´ÙÁ¤ÇÑ ¼Ò³âÀÌÁö¸¸, °áÄÚ ÁÁ¾Æ º¸ÀÌÁø ¾Ê¾Ò´Ù, ¿Ö³ÄÇÏ¸é ±×´Â °Å¿ï ¾È¿¡¼ ÀÚ½ÅÀÇ ¾ó±¼¿¡ ¾Æ¹«·± ±ÍÁ·ÀûÀÎ ¸ð½ÀÀÌ ¾øÀ¸¸ç,
¹Ý´ë·Î ±×´Â ¾Æ¹«¸® ºÁµµ ¸¶Ä¡ ³óºÎ, ¶Ç´Â "¹«Á÷"°°´Ù´Â ½½Ç ¹ß°ßÀ» ÇÏ¿´±â ¶§¹®ÀÌ´Ù. |
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While
he is still a boy; the family remove to Moscow. When Leo was eleven years old, a
pupil in a gymnasium spent a Sunday with them, and informed the children of the
latest discovery at school, namely that there was no God, and that all that was
taught on the subject was an invention. "I remember well," he says,
"how interested my older brothers were in this news; I was admitted to
their deliberations, and we all eagerly accepted the theory as something
particularly attractive and possibly quite true."
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±×°¡ ¾ÆÁ÷ ¼Ò³âÀÏ ¶§, °¡Á·ÀÌ ¸ð½ºÅ©¹Ù·Î ÀÌ»çÇß´Ù. ·¹¿À°¡ 11»ìÀÏ ¶§, ÁßµîÇб³ÀÇ ÇÑ ÇлýÀÌ ±×µé°ú
ÀÏ¿äÀÏÀ» º¸³ÂÀ¸¸ç, ¾ÆÀ̵鿡°Ô Çб³¿¡¼ÀÇ ÃÖ±ÙÀÇ ¹ß°ßÀ» ¾Ë·Á ÁÖ¾ú´Âµ¥, Çϳª´ÔÀº ¾ø´Ù´Â °ÍÀ̸ç, ±×°Í¿¡ ´ëÇØ ¹è¿î °ÍÀº ¸ðµÎ Áö¾î³½ °ÍÀ̶ó°í
ÇÏ¿´´Ù. ±×´Â ¸»ÇÑ´Ù, "³ªÀÇ ÇüµéÀÌ ÀÌ ¼Ò½Ä¿¡ ´ëÇØ ¾ó¸¶³ª Èï¹Ì¸¦ ´À²¼´ÂÁö ³Ê¹«³ª Àß ±â¾ïÇϰí ÀÖ´Ù; ³ª´Â ±×µéÀÇ ´ëÈ¿¡ ³¢¾î µé¾úÀ¸¸ç,
¿ì¸®´Â ¸ðµÎ ±× ÀÌ·ÐÀ» Ưº°È÷ ¸Å·ÂÀûÀÌ°í ³Ê¹«³ª »ç½ÇÀÎ °Í °°Àº ¾î¶² °ÍÀ¸·Î ¿½ÉÈ÷ ¹Þ¾Æ µé¿´´Ù." |
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Thus
we have Tolstoy, while hardly out of the nursery, a full-fledged nihilist, as he
calls himself -- not indeed a dynamiter, but, as the name implies, a believer in
nothing -- and the story of his life is the story of a sincere,
spiritually-minded man in search of a satisfying faith. From the first he
honestly wished to become a good man, but he received no encouragement from
others. His longings for a virtuous life were met with laughter, but whenever he
gave way to his lower passions he found only praise and approval. "My
kind-hearted aunt," he tells us, "a really good woman, used to say to
me that there was one thing above all others which she wished for me -- a liaison
with a married woman -- 'nothing so forms a young man.'"
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ÀÌ·¸°Ô ÇÏ¿© ¿ì¸®´Â, °ÅÀÇ ¿Â»óÀ» ¶°³ªÁö ¾Ê¾ÒÀ½¿¡µµ, ±×°¡ ÀÚ½ÅÀ» ÀÏĵíÀÌ, ¿ÏÀüÇÑ Ç㹫ÁÖÀÇÀÚ -
»ç½Ç À§ÇèÀι°Àº ¾Æ´ÏÁö¸¸, À̸§ÀÌ ¾Ï½ÃÇϵíÀÌ, Ç㹫ÀÇ ½ÅºÀÀÚ - ·Î¼ Å罺ÅäÀ̸¦ ¾Ë°Ô µÇ¸ç, ±×ÀÇ »îÀÇ À̾߱â´Â ¸¸Á·ÇÒ ¸¸ÇÑ ½Å¾ÓÀ» Ãß±¸ÇÏ´Â
ÁøÁöÇϸç, ¿µÀûÀÎ °ÍÀ» ÁöÇâÇÏ´Â »ç¶÷ÀÇ À̾߱â·Î ³ªÅ¸³´Ù. ¾ÖÃʺÎÅÍ ±×´Â ¼ÖÁ÷È÷ ¼±·®ÇÑ »ç¶÷ÀÌ µÇ±â¸¦ ¹Ù·¨Áö¸¸, ´Ù¸¥ »ç¶÷µé·ÎºÎÅÍ ¾Æ¹«·± °Ý·Á¸¦
¹ÞÁö ¸øÇß´Ù. ´ö¸Á ÀÖ´Â »î¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ±×ÀÇ °¥¸ÁµéÀº ºñ¿ôÀ½À» »òÀ¸¸ç, ±×°¡ ÀÚ½ÅÀÇ Àú±ÞÇÑ ¿Á¤µé¿¡ ±¼º¹ÇÒ ¶§¸é ¾ðÁ¦³ª ¿ÀÁ÷ Âù»ç¿Í ÀÎÁ¤À» ¹Þ¾Ò´Ù.
"³ªÀÇ Ä£ÀýÇÑ ¸¶À½À» °¡Áø ¼÷¸ð´Â," ±×´Â ¿ì¸®¿¡°Ô ¸»ÇÑ´Ù, "ÂüÀ¸·Î ÁÁÀº ¿©ÀÚ¿´À¸¸ç, Á¾Á¾ ³ª¿¡°Ô À̾߱âÇϱ⸦, ´Ù¸¥ ¹«¾ùº¸´Ùµµ ±×³à°¡ ³ª¿¡°Ô
¼Ò¿øÇÏ´Â ÇÑ °¡Áö°¡ ÀÖ¾ú´Âµ¥, - °áÈ¥ÇÑ ¿©ÀÚ¿ÍÀÇ °ü°è¸¦ °¡Áö´Â °ÍÀ̸ç - '¾Æ¹«°Íµµ ÀþÀº ³²ÀÚ¸¦ ±×Åä·Ï ¸ð¾ç ÀÖ°Ô ÇÏ´Â °ÍÀº ¾ø´Ù'°í
ÇÏ¿´´Ù." |
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If
Tolstoy left the university because of a dramatic picture of the labour question
as a whole, he found himself at Yasnaia Poliana confronted with the same problem
in its simplest and most comprehensive form, namely the land question: Why,
indeed, should he, a lad of eighteen, own thousands of acres of the surface of
the earth which God has given to the children of men, while his serfs, who
cultivated it and made it fruitful, did not possess a foot? There is no
reasonable answer to this question, and while Tolstoy may not have put it to
himself in that form at that time, still he soon learned the futility of
benevolence based upon landlordism.
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¸¸ÀÏ Å罺ÅäÀ̰¡ Àü¹ÝÀûÀÎ ³ëµ¿ ¹®Á¦¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ±ØÀûÀÎ ÀÎ»ó ¶§¹®¿¡ ´ëÇÐÀ» ¶°³µ´Ù¸é, ±×´Â ¾ß½º³ª¾ß
Æú¸®¾ß³ª¿¡¼ ¶È°°Àº ¹®Á¦¸¦ °¡Àå ´Ü¼øÇÏ¸ç °¡Àå Æ÷°ýÀûÀÎ ÇüÅÂ, Áï ÅäÁö¿¡¼ ¸ÂÀÌÇÏ°Ô µÇ¾ú´Ù: ¿Ö, Á¤¸»·Î, ¿ ¿©´üÀÇ ¼Ò³âÀÎ ±×°¡, Çϳª´ÔÀÌ
»ç¶÷µéÀÇ ÀÚ³àµé¿¡°Ô ÁØ ¼öõ ¿¡ÀÌÄ¿³ª µÇ´Â Áö±¸ÀÇ Ç¥¸éÀ» ¼ÒÀ¯ÇÒ ¼ö ÀÖÀ¸¸ç, ¹Ý¸é¿¡ ±×ÀÇ ³ó³ëµéÀº, ±×°ÍÀ» °æÀÛÇÏ°í °á½ÇÀ» ¸Î°Ô ÇÔ¿¡µµ, ÇÑ
»ÂÀÇ ¶¥µµ ¼ÒÀ¯ÇÏÁö ¸øÇϴ°¡? ÀÌ Áú¹®¿¡ ´ëÇØ ¾Æ¹«·± À̼ºÀûÀÎ ´ë´äÀº ¾ø¾úÀ¸¸ç, Å罺ÅäÀ̰¡ ±× ´ç½Ã¿¡ ±×·¯ÇÑ ÇüÅ·μ ±×°ÍÀ» ÀÌÇØÇÏÁö ¾Ê¾ÒÀ»Áöµµ
¸ð¸£Áö¸¸, ±×·³¿¡µµ ºÒ±¸ÇÏ°í ±×´Â °ð ÁöÁÖÁ¦µµ¿¡ ±âÃÊÇÑ ÀÚºñ½ÉÀÇ ÇêµÊÀ» ¾Ë¾Ò´Ù. |
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In
his story, A Russian Proprietor, he gives the results of his experiences
as a country gentleman, and shows how his efforts were misunderstood by the
peasants, and how impossible it was to get into touch with them. Over fifty
years later, continuing the history of the same Prince Nekhludof, in his great
novel, Resurrection, he gives the true solution of the land question by
making his hero adopt the simple device of the single-tax as advocated by Henry
George.
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±×ÀÇ À̾߱â, ¾î¶² ·¯½Ã¾Æ ÁöÁÖ ¿¡¼, ±×´Â ÇÑ ½Ã°ñ ½Å»çÀÇ °æÇèÀ¸·Î¼ ±×ÀÇ °æÇèµéÀÇ
°á°úµéÀ» Á¦»çÇϸç, ±×ÀÇ ³ë·ÂµéÀÌ ³óºÎµé¿¡ ÀÇÇØ¼ ¾ó¸¶³ª ¿ÀÇØµÇ¾ú´øÁö, ±×¸®°í ±×µé°ú °ü°è¸¦ ¸Î´Â °ÍÀÌ ¾ó¸¶³ª ºÒ°¡´ÉÇÑÁö¸¦ º¸¿©ÁÖ°í ÀÖ´Ù. ¿À½Ê
³âÀ̳ª Áö³ µÚ¿¡, µ¿ÀÏÇÑ ³×Ŭ·çµµÇÁ °øÀÛÀÇ À̾߱⸦ °è¼ÓÇϸé¼, ±×ÀÇ À§´ëÇÑ ¼Ò¼³, ºÎȰ ¿¡¼, ±×´Â ±×ÀÇ ÁÖÀΰøÀ¸·Î ÇÏ¿©±Ý Ç
Á¶Áö°¡ ÁÖÀåÇÏ´ø ´ÜÀϼ¼¶ó´Â ´Ü¼øÇÑ ÀåÄ¡¸¦ äÅÃÇÏ°Ô ÇÔÀ¸·Î½á ÅäÁö ¹®Á¦ÀÇ ÁøÁ¤ÇÑ ÇØ¹ýÀ» Á¦½ÃÇÑ´Ù |
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After
a few years spent in this unsuccessful experiment, Tolstoy gave it up, and
secured a commission in the army. He served in the artillery in the Crimea, and
when the Crimean War broke out he asked to be transferred to Sebastopol, and
took an active part in the defence of that city. Here he was surrounded by those
dramatic scenes upon which his soul was wont to feed. It was war itself that
taught Tolstoy to abhor war, and his early books, written at this period and
giving vivid accounts of warfare, while they do not explicitly condemn war, are
sufficiently realistic to discredit it at least. And in one passage of his Sebastopol
he seems to anticipate his final judgment on military life. He is describing a
truce for the purpose of burying the dead after a sortie. "Thousands of
people crowd together, look at, speak to, and smile at one another. And these
people -- Christians confessing the one great law of love and self-sacrifice --
looking at what they have done, do not at once fall repentant on their knees
before Him who has given them life and laid in the soul of each a fear of death
and a love of good and of beauty, and do not embrace like brothers with tears of
joy and happiness."
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±×ÀÇ ¼º°øÀûÀÌÁö ¸øÇÑ ½ÇÇèÀ¸·Î ¸î ³âÀ» ¼ÒºñÇÑ ÈÄ¿¡, Å罺ÅäÀÌ´Â ±×°ÍÀ» Æ÷±âÇϰí, ±º´ë¿¡ Àå±³·Î
ÀÓ°üÇÑ´Ù. ±×´Â Å©¸®¹Ì¾Æ¿¡¼ Æ÷º´´ë¿¡ º¹¹«ÇÏ¿´À¸¸ç, Å©¸®¹Ì¾Æ ÀüÀïÀÌ ¹ß¹ßÇÏ¿´À» ¶§ ¼¼¹Ù½ºÅä¸ô·Î ÀüÃâµÉ °ÍÀ» ¿äûÇϰí, ±× µµ½ÃÀÇ ¹æÀ§¿¡ Àû±ØÀûÀÎ
¿ªÇÒÀ» ¸Ã¾Ò´Ù. ¿©±â¼ ±×´Â ±×ÀÇ ¿µÈ¥À» ä¿öÁÖ´Â ±ØÀûÀÎ Àå¸éµé¿¡ µÑ·¯ ½Î¿´´Ù. Å罺ÅäÀ̰¡ ÀüÀïÀ» Çø¿ÀÇÏ°Ô °¡¸£Ä£ °ÍÀº ÀüÀï ±× ÀÚü¿´À¸¸ç,
±×ÀÇ ÃʱâÀÇ Ã¥µéÀº, ÀÌ ½Ã±â¿¡ ¾²¿©Á³°í ÀüÀï¿¡ ´ëÇÑ »ý»ýÇÑ ¹¦»çµéÀ» ´ã°í ÀÖÀ¸¸ç, ±×°ÍµéÀÌ ¸í½ÃÀûÀ¸·Î ÀüÀïÀ» ºñ³ÇÏÁö´Â ¾ÊÁö¸¸, Àû¾îµµ ±×°ÍÀ»
ºÎÀÎÇϱ⿡´Â ÃæºÐÈ÷ »ç½ÇÀûÀÌ´Ù. ±×¸®°í ±×ÀÇ ¼¼¹Ù½ºÅäÆúÀÇ ÇÑ ±¸Àý¿¡¼ ±×´Â ±ºÀÎÀ¸·Î¼ÀÇ »î¿¡ °üÇÑ ±×ÀÇ ÃÖÈÄÀÇ ½ÉÆÇÀ» ¿¹»óÇϰí ÀÖ´Â
°Íó·³ º¸ÀδÙ. ±×´Â Ãâ°Ý ÈÄ¿¡ Á×Àº ÀÚµéÀ» ¹¯±â À§ÇÑ ÈÞÀüÀ» ¹¦»çÇϰí ÀÖ´Ù. "¼öõ ¸íÀÇ »ç¶÷µéÀÌ ÇÔ²² ¸ð¿©¼ ¼·Î¸¦ ÃÄ´Ùº¸°í ¸»À» °Ç³×¸ç
¹Ì¼Ò Áþ°í ÀÖ´Ù. ±×¸®°í ÀÌ »ç¶÷µéÀº - ÇÑ °¡Áö À§´ëÇÑ »ç¶ûÀÇ ¹ý ±×¸®°í ÀÚ±â Èñ»ýÀ» °í¹éÇÏ´Â ±×¸®½ºµµÀεéÀº - ±×µéÀÌ ÇàÇÑ °ÍÀ» ¹Ù¶ó
º¸¸é¼µµ, ±×µé¿¡°Ô »ý¸íÀ» ÁÖ¾úÀ¸¸ç °¢ÀÚÀÇ ¿µÈ¥¿¡ Á×À½¿¡ ´ëÇÑ µÎ·Á¿ò ±×¸®°í ¼±°ú ¹Ì¿¡ ´ëÇÑ »ç¶ûÀ» ³Ö¾î ÁØ Çϳª´Ô ¾Õ¿¡ ´çÀå ¹«¸À» ²Ý°í
ȸ°³ÇÏÁö ¾Ê¾ÒÀ¸¸ç, ±â»Ý°ú ÇູÀÇ ´«¹°¿¡ Âù ÇüÁ¦µéó·³ Æ÷¿ËÇÏÁö ¾Ê¾Ò´Ù." |
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At
the end of the war Tolstoy found a literary career open before him, and he
resigned his commission and went to St. Petersburg to live, where he was
welcomed by the highest literary circle. For some years now he led a more or
less dissipated life, drank, gambled, and fought duels, like his companions. But
he was never satisfied. His soul always yearned for something better. He made
the tour of Europe, and it shows the serious character of his mind that his main
object was to visit the great thinkers of England and the Continent, and
question them as to the meaning of life. He learned nothing from them, however.
Beyond a general belief resembling his own in the "progress" of the
race, and the perfectibility of the world, they had nothing to offer him. The
only thing that he learned on this journey was taught him, not by men of
science, but by another dramatic incident of the kind which always so strongly
appealed to him:
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ÀüÀïÀÌ ³¡³¯ ¹«·Æ Å罺ÅäÀÌ´Â ±×ÀÇ ¾Õ¿¡ ¿·Á ÀÖ´Â ¹®ÇÐÀû Á÷¾÷À» ã¾ÒÀ¸¸ç, Àå±³¸¦ »çÀÓÇϰí
ÆäÅ×½ººÎ¸£Å©¿¡ »ì±â À§Çؼ °¬À¸¸ç, ±×°÷¿¡¼ ±×´Â ¼öÁØ ³ôÀº ¹®ÇРȸ¿øµé¿¡ ÀÇÇØ¼ ȯ¿µÀ» ¹Þ¾Ò´Ù. ¸î ³â µ¿¾È ±×´Â ¹æÅÁÇÑ »îÀ» »ì¾ÒÀ¸¸ç, ±×ÀÇ
µ¿·áµéó·³ ¸¶½Ã°í µµ¹ÚÇϸç, °áÅõÇÏ¸ç ½Î¿ü´Ù. ±×·¯³ª ±×´Â °áÄÚ ¸¸Á·ÇÏÁö ¾Ê¾Ò´Ù. ±×ÀÇ ¿µÈ¥Àº ¾ðÁ¦³ª ´õ ÁÁÀº ¾î¶² °ÍÀ» µ¿°æÇÏ¿´´Ù. ±×´Â À¯·´
¿©Çà¿¡ ¿Ã¶ú´Ù, ±×¸®°í ±×°ÍÀº ±×ÀÇ ¸¶À½ÀÇ ÁøÁöÇÑ ¼º°ÝÀ̾ú´ø ¹Ù, ±×ÀÇ ÁÖµÈ ¸ñÀûÀº ¿µ±¹ ¹× ´ë·úÀÇ À§´ëÇÑ »ç»ó°¡µéÀ» ¹æ¹®ÇÏ¿©, ±×µé¿¡°Ô »îÀÇ
Àǹ̿¡ ´ëÇØ Áú¹®ÇÏ´Â °ÍÀ̾ú´Ù. ÇÏÁö¸¸, ±×´Â ±×µé¿¡°Ô¼ ¾Æ¹«°Íµµ ¹è¿ìÁö ¸øÇß´Ù. ÀηùÀÇ "Áøº¸", ±×¸®°í ¼¼»óÀÇ ¿ÏÀü¼º¿¡¼ ÀÚ±â ÀÚ½ÅÀÇ °Í°ú
´à¾Æ ÀÖ´Ù´Â ÀϹÝÀû ¹ÏÀ½À» ¹þ¾î³ª¼, ±×µéÀº ±×¿¡°Ô ¾Æ¹« °Íµµ ÁÙ °ÍÀÌ ¾ø¾ú´Ù. ÀÌ ¿©Çà Áß¿¡ ±×°¡ ¹è¿î À¯ÀÏÇÑ °ÍÀ̸ç, ±×¸¦ °¡¸£Ä£ °ÍÀº,
ÇÐÀڵ鿡 ÀÇÇØ¼°¡ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, ±×¿¡°Ô ¾ðÁ¦³ª ±×Åä·Ï °·ÄÇÏ°Ô ÀλóÀ» ÁØ °Í°ú °°Àº ´Ù¸¥ ±ØÀûÀÎ »ç°Ç¿¡ ÀÇÇØ¼¿´´Ù: |
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"During
my stay in Paris," he says, "the sight of a public execution revealed
to me the weakness of my superstitious belief in progress. When I saw the head
divided from the body and heard the sound with which they fell separately into
the box, I understood, not with my reason, but with my whole being, that no
theory of the wisdom of all established things nor of progress, could justify
such an act, and that if all the men in the world from the day of creation, by
whatever theory, had found this thing necessary, it was not so; it was a bad
thing, and that therefore I must judge of what was right and necessary, not by
what men said and did, not by progress, but by what I felt to be true in my
heart."
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"³»°¡ ÆÄ¸®¿¡ ¸Ó¹«¸¦ ´ç½Ã," ±×´Â ¸»ÇÑ´Ù,
"°ø°³ óÇü Àå¸éÀº ³»°Ô Áøº¸¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ³ªÀÇ ¹Ì½ÅÀûÀÎ ¹ÏÀ½ÀÇ ¾àÁ¡À» µå·¯³» ÁÖ¾ú´Ù. ³ª´Â ¸Ó¸®°¡ ¸öÀ¸·ÎºÎÅÍ ºÐ¸®µÇ´Â °ÍÀ» º¸°í ±×°ÍµéÀÌ Á¦°¢±â
»óÀÚ¿¡ ¶³¾îÁö´Â ¼Ò¸®¸¦ µéÀ» ¶§, ³ªÀÇ À̼ºÀ¸·Î¼°¡ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, ³ªÀÇ ¿Â ¸öÀ¸·Î, ¸ðµç È®¸³µÈ °ÍµéÀÇ ÁöÇý¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ±×¸®°í Áøº¸¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ¾î¶² À̷еµ
±×·± ÇàÀ§¸¦ Á¤´çÈÇÒ ¼ö ¾ø´Ù´Â °ÍÀ», ±×¸®°í ¸¸ÀÏ ¼¼»óÀÇ Ã¢Á¶·ÎºÎÅÍ ¼¼»óÀÇ ¸ðµç »ç¶÷µéÀÌ, ¾î¶² À̷п¡¼µçÁö, ÀÌ·¯ÇÑ °ÍÀÌ ÇÊ¿äÇÏ´Ù°í
»ý°¢Çß´Ù¸é, ±×°ÍÀº ±×·¸Áö ¾Ê´Ù´Â °ÍÀ» ±ú´Þ¾Ò´Ù; ±×°ÍÀº ³ª»Û °ÍÀ̾ú´Ù, ±×¸®°í ±×·¯¹Ç·Î ³ª´Â ¹«¾ùÀÌ ¿Ç°í ÇÊ¿äÇÑ °ÍÀÎÁö¸¦ ÆÇ´ÜÇØ¾ß¸¸ Çϸç,
»ç¶÷µéÀÌ ¹«¾ùÀ» ¸»ÇßÀ¸¸ç ÇàÇߴ°¡¿¡ ÀÇÇØ¼°¡ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, Áøº¸¿¡ ÀÇÇØ¼°¡ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, ³ªÀÇ °¡½¿¿¡¼ Áø¸®¶ó°í ´À²¸Áö´Â °Í¿¡ ÀÇÇØ¼ÀÓÀ» ±ú´Þ¾Ò´Ù." |
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This
incident is an excellent example of Tolstoy's habit of looking at things afresh
as if no one had ever considered them before. It is clear that he lacks the
historical sense and that the idea of evolution has made no deep impression upon
him. He does not appreciate the fact that there may have been a time when the
taking of life was as natural and right for man as it is for a tiger today, and
that the theory that we are now growing out of the brute state into a higher one
explains many things otherwise inexplicable. While I believe that the standard
which he applies in this matter of violence is the true standard, I should say
that the people whom he criticizes are not necessarily perverse or wicked, but
that they have not advanced as far as he has along the road of human progress.
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ÀÌ »ç°ÇÀº ¸¶Ä¡ »ç¶÷µéÀÌ ÀÌÀü¿¡ »ç¹°µé¿¡ ´ëÇØ ÀüÇô ±íÀÌ
»ý°¢ÇÏÁö ¾Ê¾Ò´ø °Íó·³ »õ·ÎÀÌ ¹Ù¶óº¸´Â Å罺ÅäÀÌÀÇ ½À°üµéÀÇ ÈǸ¢ÇÑ ÀÏ·ÊÀÌ´Ù. ±×°¡ ¿ª»çÀû °¨°¢À» °á¿©Çϰí ÀÖ´Ù´Â °Í°ú ÁøÈ »ç»óÀÌ ±×¿¡°Ô ¾Æ¹«·±
±íÀº ÀλóÀ» ÁÖÁö ¸øÇß´Ù´Â °ÍÀº ¸í¹éÇÏ´Ù. »ç¶÷¿¡°Ô ÀÖ¾î¼ ¸ñ¼ûÀ» ÃëÇÏ´Â °ÍÀÌ ¿À´Ã³¯ÀÇ È£¶ûÀÌó·³ ÀÚ¿¬½º·¯¿ì¸ç Á¤´çÇÏ´ø ¶§°¡ ÀÖ¾úÀ» °ÍÀ̶ó´Â
»ç½ÇÀ», ±×¸®°í ¿ì¸®°¡ Áö±Ý ¾ß¸¸ÀûÀÎ »óÅ¿¡¼ Å»ÇÇÇÏ¿© ´õ ³ôÀº °ÍÀ¸·Î ÀÚ¶ó°¡°í ÀÖ´Ù´Â ÀÌ·ÐÀº ±×·¸Áö ¾Ê´Ù¸é ¼³¸íÇÒ ¼ö ¾ø´Â ¸¹Àº °ÍµéÀ»
¼³¸íÇÑ´Ù´Â »ç½ÇÀ» ÀÎÁ¤ÇÏÁö ¾Ê´Â´Ù. ³ª´Â ±×°¡ ÀÌ·± Æø·ÂÀÇ ¹®Á¦¿¡ ÀÖ¾î¼ Àû¿ëÇÏ´Â ±âÁØÀÌ ÁøÁ¤ÇÑ ±âÁØÀÓÀ» ¹Ï°í ÀÖÁö¸¸, ±×°¡ ºñ³ÇÏ´Â »ç¶÷µéÀº
²À ¿Ö°îµÇ¾ú°Å³ª »ç¾ÇÇÑ °ÍÀÌ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, ±×µéÀÌ ±×°¡ ÀηùÀÇ Áøº¸ÀÇ ±æÀ» µû¶ó °¡¸é¼ ³ª¾Æ°£ °Í¸¸Å ÀüÁøÇÏÁö ¾Ê¾ÒÀ½À» ¹Ýµå½Ã ¸»ÇϰíÀÚ ÇÑ´Ù. |
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While
Tolstoy was abroad on a second journey the news came of the liberation of the
serfs, and he hurried back to Yasnaia Poliana with the object of fitting his
freed men for their new-found freedom. He became head-master of the village
school; besides publishing an educational journal which gave the results of his
experiences. Many of his articles were translated into French thirty years
later, and published in book form, and they give an interesting view of his
experiments in pedagogy. He started out with the rule that a child should not be
taught anything that he did not wish to learn, and, as is his habit, he adhered
to his principle through thick and thin. About twice a week, after school had
been in progress for a couple of hours, some small boy would jump up and make
for the door. Expostulations were useless, and in five minutes the room would be
empty, and remain so for the rest of the day. This, however, did not disconcert
Tolstoy in the least. It happened, he said, only twice a week on an average, and
after two hours of recitation, and to counterbalance these half-holidays he had
the satisfaction of knowing that on all the other days of the week, and for two
hours on these days, every boy and girl was in the schoolroom because he or she
preferred to be there. They were absolutely free, and he believed that an
atmosphere of freedom was more favourable to education than one of coercion. He
never took up a lesson to which the children objected, nor continued it when
their interest began to flag, nor interrupted it so long as they were eager for
it; and he assures us that this last rule sometimes kept him in school
inconveniently late in the evening, which fact would lead one to suppose that
Russian children differ from those of other nations. It is to be hoped that
Tolstoy will still write a book on education on the model of his
What is Art?
It could not fail to be one of the most interesting and suggestive of his works.
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Å罺ÅäÀ̰¡ µÎ ¹øÂ° ¿©Çà Áß¿¡ ³ó³ëµéÀÇ ÇØ¹æ¿¡ °üÇÑ ´º½º°¡
³ª¿Ô°í, ±×´Â ¼µÑ·¯¼ ¾ß½º³ª¾ß Æú¸®¾ß³ª¿¡ µ¹¾Æ°¬À¸¸ç ±×ÀÇ ÀÚÀ¯·Î¿öÁø »ç¶÷µé¿¡°Ô ±×µéÀÇ »õ·Î ãÀº ÀÚÀ¯¿¡ ÀûÀÀ½Ã۰íÀÚ ÇÏ´Â ¸ñÀûÀ̾ú´Ù. ±×´Â
¸¶À» Çб³ÀÇ ±³ÀåÀÌ µÇ¾ú´Ù; »Ó¸¸ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó ÀÚ½ÅÀÇ °æÇèµéÀÇ °á°ú¸¦ ´ãÀº ±³À°ÀûÀÎ ÀâÁöµµ ¹ßÇàÇÏ¿´´Ù. ±×ÀÇ ¸¹Àº ±ÛµéÀº »ï½Ê ³â µÚ¿¡ ÇÁ¶û½º¿¡¼
¹ø¿ªµÇ¾úÀ¸¸ç, ¼ÀûÀÇ ÇüÅ·Π¹ßÇàµÇ¾ú°í, ±×°ÍµéÀº ±³À°Çп¡ ´ëÇÑ ±×ÀÇ ½ÇÇèµé¿¡ ´ëÇÑ Èï¹Ì·Î¿î ½Ã°¢µéÀ» ³ªÅ¸³»°í ÀÖ¾ú´Ù. ±×´Â ¾î¸°ÀÌ¿¡°Ô´Â ±×°¡
¹è¿ì°í ½Í¾îÇÏÁö ¾Ê´Â °ÍÀ» °¡¸£ÃÄ Á־ ¾ÈµÈ´Ù´Â °ÍÀ» ¿øÄ¢À¸·Î Ãâ¹ßÇÏ¿´À¸¸ç, ±×ÀÇ ½À°üó·³, ±×´Â ½ÃÁ¾Àϰü ±×ÀÇ ¿ø¸®µéÀ» °í¼öÇÏ¿´´Ù. ¾à
ÀÏÁÖÀÏ¿¡ µÎ ¹øÀº, µÎ¾î ½Ã°£ µ¿¾È Çб³°¡ ÁøÇàµÇ°í ³ª¸é, ¸î ¸î Á¶±×¸¸ ¾ÆÀ̵éÀÌ ¹ú¶± ÀϾ¼ ¹®À¸·Î ´Þ·Á °£´Ù. ²ÙÁö¶÷µéµµ ¼Ò¿ëÀÌ ¾ø¾ú´Ù,
±×¸®°í ¿À ºÐ À̳»¿¡ ±³½ÇÀº ÅÖ ºñ°ï Çϸç, ÇÏ·ç ³»³» ±×·± »óÅ·ΠÀÖ´Ù. ÇÏÁö¸¸, À̰ÍÀº ÀüÇô Å罺ÅäÀ̸¦ ´çȲÇÏ°Ô ÇÏÁö ¾Ê´Â´Ù. ±×´Â ¸»Çß´Ù,
±×·± ÀÏÀº Æò±ÕÀûÀ¸·Î ÀÏÁÖÀÏ¿¡ µÎ ¹ø, ±×¸®°í µÎ ½Ã°£ÀÇ ¾Ï¼Û ÈÄ¿¡ ÀÏ¾î ³µÀ¸¸ç, ÀÌ·± ¹Ý °øÀϵéÀ» ¸Þ¿ì±â À§Çؼ, ÁÖÀÇ ¸ðµç ´Ù¸¥ ³¯µé¿¡,
±×¸®°í ÀÌ ³¯ µé¿¡ µÎ ½Ã°£ µ¿¾È, ¸ðµç ¼Ò³â°ú ¼Ò³àµéÀÌ °¢ÀÚ°¡ ±×°÷¿¡ ÀÖ´Â °ÍÀ» ÁÁ¾ÆÇϱ⠶§¹®¿¡ ±³½Ç¿¡ ÀÖ¾ú´Ù´Â °ÍÀ» ¾Ë°í ÀÖÀ½À» ¸¸Á·À¸·Î
¿©±ä´Ù. ±×µéÀº Àý´ëÀûÀ¸·Î ÀÚÀ¯ÀÌ´Ù ±×¸®°í ±×´Â ÀÚÀ¯ÀÇ ºÐÀ§±â°¡ °¾ÐÀÇ ºÐÀ§±âº¸´Ù ±³À°¿¡ ´õ¿í À¯ÀÍÇÏ´Ù°í ¹Ï¾ú´Ù. ±×´Â ¾ÆÀ̵éÀÌ °ÅºÎÇÏ´Â ¼ö¾÷À»
°áÄÚ ÇÏÁö ¾Ê¾ÒÀ¸¸ç, ±×µéÀÇ Èï¹Ì°¡ ½ÃµéÇØÁö¸é °áÄÚ °è¼ÓÇÏÁö ¾Ê¾ÒÀ¸¸ç, ±×µéÀÌ ±×°Í¿¡ ¿ÁßÀÏ ¶§´Â °áÄÚ ÁߴܽÃŰÁö ¾Ê¾Ò´Ù; ±×¸®°í ÀÌ ¸¶Áö¸·
¿øÄ¢ÀÌ ¶§¶§·Î ±×¸¦ ºÒÆíÇϰԵµ Àú³á ´Êµµ·Ï Çб³¿¡ ºÙµé¾î µÎ¾ú´Ù°í ¿ì¸®¿¡°Ô È®ÀÎÇØ ÁÖ¾úÀ¸¸ç, ±×·¯ÇÑ »ç½ÇÀº ·¯½Ã¾ÆÀÇ ¾ÆÀ̵éÀº ´Ù¸¥ ³ª¶óµéÀÇ
¾ÆÀ̵é°ú´Â ´Ù¸£´Ù°í »ó»óÇϵµ·Ï À̲ø°ï Çß´Ù. Å罺ÅäÀ̰¡ ±×ÀÇ ÀÛǰ ¿¹¼úÀº ¹«¾ùÀΰ¡?À» ¸ðµ¨·Î ÇÏ¿© ±³À°¿¡ °üÇÑ Ã¥À» ¾ÆÁ÷µµ ¾µ °ÍÀ»
Èñ¸ÁÇØ º»´Ù. ±×°ÍÀº ±×ÀÇ ÀÛǰµé Áß¿¡¼ °¡Àå Èï¹Ì ÀÖ°í ½Ã»çÇÏ´Â ¹Ù°¡ ¸¹Àº °ÍÀÓ¿¡ Ʋ¸² ¾øÀ» °ÍÀÌ´Ù. |
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It
was at this period that he accepted the post of county magistrate, and his
various occupations wore upon him so that he fell ill, and was obliged to drop
everything and go out on the steppes to live for a time among the Kirghiz and
drink Kumyss (a preparation of mare's milk) there. But his mind was not at rest,
and he thinks that the change which occurred in his views fifteen years later
might now have been anticipated if he had not been diverted from himself by his
marriage. The romance of this event is given in Anna Karenine, in the
courtship of Levine and Kitty, and we may state parenthetically that Tolstoy
walks through all his books, for he is more or less identified with Pierre in War
and Peace, with Levine and little Nicholas with Nekhludoff, and others.
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¹Ù·Î ÀÌ ½Ã±â¿¡ ±×´Â Áö¿ªÆÇ»ç Á÷À» ¼ö¶ôÇÏ¿´À¸¸ç, ±×ÀÇ ´Ù¾çÇÑ
Á÷¾÷µéÀÌ ±×¸¦ ÁöÄ¡°Ô ÇÏ¿©¼ º´µé°Ô ÇÏ¿´À¸¸ç, ¸ðµç °ÍÀ» ±×¸¸ µÎ°í Àá½Ã ÃÊ¿ø¿¡ ³ª°¡ ۸£±â½º ÀÎµé »çÀÌ¿¡ »ì¸é¼ ±×°÷¿¡¼ Äí¹Ì½º(¾Ï¸»ÀÇ Á£À¸·Î
¸¸µç À½½Ä)¸¦ ¸¶½Ã°Ô µÇ¾ú´Ù. ±×·¯³ª ±×ÀÇ ¸¶À½Àº ÆíÄ¡ ¾Ê¾ÒÀ¸¸ç, ±×´Â 15³â µÚ¿¡ ±×ÀÇ ½Ã°¢µé¿¡¼ ³ªÅ¸³µÀ» º¯È°¡, ¸¸ÀÏ ±×°¡ °áÈ¥¿¡ ÀÇÇØ¼
±âºÐÀÌ ÀüȯµÇÁö ¾Ê¾Ò´Ù¸é, Áö±Ý ¿¹»óµÇ¾úÀ» ¼öµµ ÀÖ´Ù°í »ý°¢ÇÑ´Ù. ÀÌ·± »ç°Ç¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ·Î¸Á½º´Â ¾È³ª Ä«·¹´Ï³ª¿¡¼, ·¹ºó°ú ŰƼÀÇ
±¸¾Ö¿¡¼ ÁÖ¾îÁö¸ç, ¿ì¸®´Â ¼³¸íÇÏÀÚ¸é Å罺ÅäÀÌ´Â ±×ÀÇ ¸ðµç Ã¥µéÀ» ÅëÇÏ¿© ³ªÅ¸³´Ù°í ´Ü¾ðÇÒ ¼öµµ ÀÖ´Ù, ¿Ö³ÄÇÏ¸é ±×´Â ´Ù¼Ò°£¿¡ ÀüÀï°ú ÆòÈ¿¡¼
ÇÇ¿¡¸£¿Í, ·¹ºó ±×¸®°í ¾î¸° ´ÏÄݶ󽺴 ³×Ŭ·çµµÇÁ¿Í, ±×¸®°í ±âŸÀÇ »ç¶÷µé°ú ÀÏÄ¡Çϱ⠶§¹®ÀÌ´Ù. |
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Tolstoy's
family life was completely happy. He lived with his wife in the country and they
rarely went to town. He had a large family of children, his expenses increased,
and he worked assiduously at his great novels, War and Peace and Anna
Karenine, and his books now brought him in a good income.
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Å罺ÅäÀÌÀÇ °¡Á· »ýȰÀº ¿ÏÀüÈ÷ ÇູÇÏ¿´´Ù. ±×´Â ±×ÀÇ ¾Æ³»¿Í
ÇÔ²² ½Ã°ñ¿¡¼ »ì¾ÒÀ¸¸ç ±×µéÀº °ÅÀÇ µµ½Ã·Î ³ª°¡Áö ¾Ê¾Ò´Ù. ±×´Â ¸¹Àº ÀÚ³àµéÀ» °¡Áø °¡Á·À» ÀÌ·ç¾ú°í, ±×ÀÇ ÁöÃâµéÀº ´Ã¾î³µÀ¸¸ç, ±×ÀÇ À§´ëÇÑ
¼Ò¼³µéÀÎ, ÀüÀï°ú ÆòÈ ¹× ¾È³ª Ä«·¹´Ï³ªÀÇ ÀÛ¾÷¿¡ ¸ôµÎÇÏ¿´°í, ±×ÀÇ Ã¥µéÀº ÀÌÁ¦ ±×¿¡°Ô ¸¹Àº ¼öÀÔÀ» °¡Á®´Ù ÁÖ¾ú´Ù. |
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The
constant employment kept him for many years from dwelling on the unsatisfactory
foundation of his existence, his lack of faith, his want of a working theory of
life. But the books which he was now writing, and even those written at an
earlier period, give many proofs of the fact that the light was already dawning
in his soul. In fact he informs us that almost from the first years of his
childhood, when he began to read the Gospel for himself, the doctrine which
teaches love, humility, meekness, self-denial, and returning good for evil, was
the doctrine which touched him most.
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It
would be interesting to go through his earlier works and pick out the passages
which reflect this feeling. But two examples will suffice. In The Cossacks,
written in the fifties, the hero, Olenine, goes out pheasant shooting alone. He
lies down in a thicket where a deer had lain before him and had left the imprint
of its body on the leaves, and he is suddenly seized by an inexpressible
sensation of happiness and love for all creation. The very gnats that annoyed
him at first became a necessary part of the forest, and he actually ends by
finding a certain charm in their persistence. He makes the sign of the Cross and
murmurs a prayer. He feels his identity with the wild nature around him; he is
no longer a Russian nobleman, but simply a living creature. "Why have I
never been happy?" he asks. He runs over his life in his mind and its
selfishness fills him with disgust. Suddenly the light bursts upon him.
"Happiness," he cries, "happiness consists in living for others,
that is clear. Man aspires to happiness; therefore it is a proper desire. If he
tries to get it in a selfish way, in seeking wealth, glory, love, he may not
succeed, and his wishes remain unsatisfied. Then it must be selfish desires
which are wrong, and not the wish to be happy. What are the dreams which may be
realized irrespective of our outward circumstances? Only love and
self-sacrifice." He jumps up, rejoicing in his discovery, and seeks
impatiently for some one to love, to do good to, to sacrifice himself for. And
when he returns to the village he insists upon presenting his horse to a young
Cossack who had been his rival in the affections of one of the village maidens.
He loved every one so much that he felt that this remote hamlet was his true
home, that there was his family and his happiness, that nowhere else and never
again could he be so full of joy.
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The
other instance in which Tolstoy anticipates his mature views is found in War
and Peace, which was written some years after his marriage. It is Pierre who
speaks. "To live and avoid evil so as to escape remorse, that is too
little. I have lived that way and my life was lost in uselessness. It is only
now that I really live -- that I try to live for others that I understand the
blessing of it."
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