, and examinations in "the law of God" form part
of the conditions for entrance to the state schools. But, having reached
the point where religion has no longer any solid grasp upon a man, he
did not like to see other people observe even the forms.
Later on he began a novel, to be called "The Decembrists." The
Decembrists is the name given to the participants in the disorders of
1825, on the accession of the Emperor Nicholas I. to the throne. Among
the preparations which he made for this work were excursions taken with
the object of acquainting himself with the divers dialects and
peculiarities of expression current in the different parts of the
empire. These he collected from pilgrims on the highways and byways.
"A pilgrim," said the witty countess, "is a man who has grown tired of
the jars and the cares and responsibilities of the household; out of
patience with the family in general. He feels the necessity, inborn in
every Russian, for roaming, for getting far away from people, into the
country and the forests. So he makes a pilgrimage to some distant
shrine. I should like to be a pilgrim myself, but the family ties me
down. I feel the need of freshening up my ideas."
In these excursions the count came to see how great a part religion
plays in the life of the lower classes; and he argued that, in order to
get into sympathy with them, one must share their ideas as to religion.
Accordingly he plunged into it with his customary ardor,--"he has a
passionate nature,"--and for several years he attended every church
service, observed every rite, kept every fast, and so on. He thought it
horrible if those about him did not do the same,--if they neglected a
single form. I think it quite probable that he initiated the trouble
with his stomach by these fasts. They are nothing to a person who has
always been used to them; but when we consider that the longer fasts
cover about four solid months,--not to mention the usual abstinence on
Wednesdays and Fridays and the special abstinences,--and that milk,
eggs, cheese, and butter are prohibited, as well as other customary
articles of food, it is not difficult to imagine the effect of sudden
and strict observance upon a man accustomed during the greater part of
his life to a meat diet. The vegetable diet in which he now persists
only aggravates the evil in one who is afflicted with liver trouble, and
who is too old to train his vital economy in fresh paths.
His religious ardor
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