War and Peace
now gradually opening before me.” But five of the other virtues which
Pierre recalled, counting them on his fingers, he felt already in his
soul: courage, generosity, morality, love of mankind, and especially
obedience—which did not even seem to him a virtue, but a joy. (He now
felt so glad to be free from his own lawlessness and to submit his will
to those who knew the indubitable truth.) He forgot what the seventh
virtue was and could not recall it.
The third time the Rhetor came back more quickly and asked Pierre
whether he was still firm in his intention and determined to submit to
all that would be required of him.
“I am ready for everything,” said Pierre.
“I must also inform you,” said the Rhetor, “that our Order
delivers its teaching not in words only but also by other means, which
may perhaps have a stronger effect on the sincere seeker after wisdom
and virtue than mere words. This chamber with what you see therein
should already have suggested to your heart, if it is sincere, more than
words could do. You will perhaps also see in your further initiation a
like method of enlightenment. Our Order imitates the ancient societies
that explained their teaching by hieroglyphics. A hieroglyph,” said
the Rhetor, “is an emblem of something not cognizable by the senses
but which possesses qualities resembling those of the symbol.”
Pierre knew very well what a hieroglyph was, but dared not speak. He
listened to the Rhetor in silence, feeling from all he said that his
ordeal was about to begin.
“If you are resolved, I must begin your initiation,” said the Rhetor
coming closer to Pierre. “In token of generosity I ask you to give me
all your valuables.”
“But I have nothing here,” replied Pierre, supposing that he was
asked to give up all he possessed.
“What you have with you: watch, money, rings....”
Pierre quickly took out his purse and watch, but could not manage for
some time to get the wedding ring off his fat finger. When that had been
done, the Rhetor said:
“In token of obedience, I ask you to undress.”
Pierre took off his coat, waistcoat, and left boot according to the
Rhetor’s instructions. The Mason drew the shirt back from Pierre’s
left breast, and stooping down pulled up the left leg of his trousers
to above the knee. Pierre hurriedly began taking off his right boot also
and was going to tuck up the other trouser leg to save this stranger the
trouble, but the Mason told him that was not necessary and gave him
a slipper for his left foot. With a childlike smile of embarrassment,
doubt, and self-derision, which appeared on his face against his will,
Pierre stood with his arms hanging down and legs apart, before his
brother Rhetor, and awaited his further commands.
“And now, in token of candor, I ask you to reveal to me your chief
passion,” said the latter.
“My passion! I have had so many,” replied Pierre.
“That passion which more than all others caused you to waver on the
path of virtue,” said the Mason.
Pierre paused, seeking a reply.
“Wine? Gluttony? Idleness? Laziness? Irritability? Anger? Women?”
He went over his vices in his mind, not knowing to which of them to give
the pre-eminence.
“Women,” he said in a low, scarcely audible voice.
The Mason did not move and for a long time said nothing after this
answer. At last he moved up to Pierre and, taking the kerchief that lay
on the table, again bound his eyes.
“For the last time I say to you—turn all your attention upon
yourself, put a bridle on your senses, and seek blessedness, not in
passion but in your own heart. The source of blessedness is not without
us but within....”
Pierre had already long been feeling in himself that refreshing source
of blessedness which now flooded his heart with glad emotion.
CHAPTER IV
Soon after this there came into the dark chamber to fetch Pierre, not
the Rhetor but Pierre’s sponsor, Willarski, whom he recognized by his
voice. To fresh questions as to the firmness of his resolution Pierre
replied: “Yes, yes, I agree,” and with a beaming, childlike smile,
his fat chest uncovered, stepping unevenly and timidly in one slippered
and one booted foot, he advanced, while Willarski held a sword to his
bare chest. He was conducted from that room along passages that turned
backwards and forwards and was at last brought to the doors of the
Lodge. Willarski coughed, he was answered by the Masonic knock with
mallets, the doors opened before them. A bass voice (Pierre was still
blindfolded) questioned him as to who he was, when and where he was
born, and so on. Then he was again led somewhere still blindfolded,
and as they went along he was told allegories of the toils of his
pilgrimage, of holy friendship, of the Eternal Architect of the
universe, and of the courage with which he should endure toils and
dangers. During these wanderings, Pierre noticed that he was spoken
of now as the “Seeker,” now as the “Sufferer,” and now as the
“Postulant,” to the accompaniment of various knockings with
mallets and swords. As he was being led up to some object he noticed a
hesitation and uncertainty among his conductors. He heard those around
him disputing in whispers and one of them insisting that he should be
led along a certain carpet. After that they took his right hand, placed
it on something, and told him to hold a pair of compasses to his left
breast with the other hand and to repeat after someone who read aloud
an oath of fidelity to the laws of the Order. The candles were then
extinguished and some spirit lighted, as Pierre knew by the smell, and
he was told that he would now see the lesser light. The bandage was
taken off his eyes and, by the faint light of the burning spirit,
Pierre, as in a dream, saw several men standing before him, wearing
aprons like the Rhetor’s and holding swords in their hands pointed at
his breast. Among them stood a man whose white shirt was stained with
blood. On seeing this, Pierre moved forward with his breast toward the
swords, meaning them to pierce it. But the swords were drawn back from
him and he was at once blindfolded again.
“Now thou hast seen the lesser light,” uttered a voice. Then the
candles were relit and he was told that he would see the full light; the
bandage was again removed and more than ten voices said together: “Sic
transit gloria mundi.”
Pierre gradually began to recover himself and looked about at the room
and at the people in it. Round a long table covered with black sat some
twelve men in garments like those he had already seen. Some of them
Pierre had met in Petersburg society. In the President’s chair sat a
young man he did not know, with a peculiar cross hanging from his
neck. On his right sat the Italian abbé whom Pierre had met at
Anna Pávlovna’s two years before. There were also present a very
distinguished dignitary and a Swiss who had formerly been tutor at the
Kurágins’. All maintained a solemn silence, listening to the words
of the President, who held a mallet in his hand. Let into the wall was
a star-shaped light. At one side of the table was a small carpet with
various figures worked upon it, at the other was something resembling an
altar on which lay a Testament and a skull. Round it stood seven large
candlesticks like those used in churches. Two of the brothers led Pierre
up to the altar, placed his feet at right angles, and bade him lie down,
saying that he must prostrate himself at the Gates of the Temple.
“He must first receive the trowel,” whispered one of the brothers.
“Oh, hush, please!” said another.
Pierre, perplexed, looked round with his shortsighted eyes without
obeying, and suddenly doubts arose in his mind. “Where am I? What am
I doing? Aren’t they laughing at me? Shan’t I be ashamed to remember
this?” But these doubts only lasted a moment. Pierre glanced at
the serious faces of those around, remembered all he had already gone
through, and realized that he could not stop halfway. He was aghast
at his hesitation and, trying to arouse his former devotional feeling,
prostrated himself before the Gates of the Temple. And really, the
feeling of devotion returned to him even more strongly than before. When
he had lain there some time, he was told to get up, and a white leather
apron, such as the others wore, was put on him: he was given a trowel
and three pairs of gloves, and then the Grand Master addressed him. He
told him that he should try to do nothing to stain the whiteness of that
apron, which symbolized strength and purity; then of the unexplained
trowel, he told him to toil with it to cleanse his own heart from vice,
and indulgently to smooth with it the heart of his neighbor. As to the
first pair of gloves, a man’s, he said that Pierre could not know
their meaning but must keep them. The second pair of man’s gloves
he was to wear at the meetings, and finally of the third, a pair of
women’s gloves, he said: “Dear brother, these woman’s gloves are
intended for you too. Give them to the woman whom you shall honor most
of all. This gift will be a pledge of your purity of heart to her whom
you select to be your worthy helpmeet in Masonry.” And after a pause,
he added: “But beware, dear brother, that these gloves do not deck
hands that are unclean.” While the Grand Master said these last words
it seemed to Pierre that he grew embarrassed. Pierre himself grew still
more confused, blushed like a child till tears came to his eyes, began
looking about him uneasily, and an awkward pause followed.
This silence was broken by one of the brethren, who led Pierre up to the
rug and began reading to him from a manuscript book an explanation of
all the figures on it: the sun, the moon, a hammer, a plumb line, a
trowel, a rough stone and a squared stone, a pillar, three windows, and
so on. Then a place was assigned to Pierre, he was shown the signs of
the Lodge, told the password, and at last was permitted to sit down.
The Grand Master began reading the statutes. They were very long, and
Pierre, from joy, agitation, and embarrassment, was not in a state to
understand what was being read. He managed to follow only the last words
of the statutes and these remained in his mind.
“In our temples we recognize no other distinctions,” read the Grand
Master, “but those between virtue and vice. Beware of making any
distinctions which may infringe equality. Fly to a brother’s aid
whoever he may be, exhort him who goeth astray, raise him that falleth,
never bear malice or enmity toward thy brother. Be kindly and courteous.
Kindle in all hearts the flame of virtue. Share thy happiness with thy
neighbor, and may envy never dim the purity of that bliss. Forgive thy
enemy, do not avenge thyself except by doing him good. Thus fulfilling
the highest law thou shalt regain traces of the ancient dignity which
thou hast lost.”
He finished and, getting up, embraced and kissed Pierre, who, with tears
of joy in his eyes, looked round him, not knowing how to answer the
congratulations and greetings from acquaintances that met him on all
sides. He acknowledged no acquaintances but saw in all these men only
brothers, and burned with impatience to set to work with them.
The Grand Master rapped with his mallet. All the Masons sat down in
their places, and one of them read an exhortation on the necessity of
humility.
The Grand Master proposed that the last duty should be performed,
and the distinguished dignitary who bore the title of “Collector
of Alms” went round to all the brothers. Pierre would have liked
to subscribe all he had, but fearing that it might look like pride
subscribed the same amount as the others.
The meeting was at an end, and on reaching home Pierre felt as if he had
returned from a long journey on which he had spent dozens of years, had