THE elder's absence from his cell had lasted for about twenty-five

minutes. It was more than half-past twelve, but Dmitri, 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. Miusov, too, was trying to

take a part, 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.

    Fyodor Pavlovitch, who had given his word to sit still and be

quiet, had actually been quiet for some time, but he watched his

neighbour Miusov with an ironical little smile, obviously enjoying his

discomfiture. 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? It was because

you felt insulted and aggrieved, and you remained to vindicate

yourself by showing off your intelligence. 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 Pavlovitch

delivered him another thrust, almost at the moment of Father Zossima'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 Iosif, 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.

    "He 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 Zossima asked

Ivan.

    The latter, at last, answered him, not condescendingly, as Alyosha

had feared, but with modesty and reserve, with evident goodwill and

apparently without the slightest arrierepensee

    "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 for ever, 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 Paissy, the silent and learned monk,

assented with fervour and decision.

    "The purest Ultramontanism!" cried Miusov impatiently, crossing

and recrossing his legs.

    "Oh, well, we have no mountains," cried Father Iosif, 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

organisation 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 organisation of men for religious objects,' and, finally, in

the third place, 'the Church is a kingdom not of this world.'

    "A most unworthy play upon words for an ecclesiastic!" Father

Paissy 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 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 civilisation 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 organisation,' or as 'an organisation 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 incongruous with the aims of the

Church. All this will not degrade it in any way or take from its

honour 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 bad 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 Iosif 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 Paissy 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 civilisation. 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 as 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," Miusov said

smiling, again crossing his legs. "So far as I understand, then, the

realisation of such an ideal is infinitely remote, at the second

coming of Christ. That's as 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 imagined 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," Ivan replied calmly, without flinching.

    "Are you serious?" Miusov 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," Ivan

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 to-day 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 to-day 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," Miusov

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, Ivan Fyodorovitch."

    "Yes, but you know, in reality it is so now," said the elder

suddenly, and all turned to him at once. "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 Miusov, 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

recognising his wrongdoing as a son of a Christian society- that is,

of the Church- that he recognises 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 to-day can recognise 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 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 to-day 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. If

he returns to society, often it is with such hatred that society

itself instinctively cuts him off. 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 recognised 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 Zossima, 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 Paissy repeated austerely and

reverently.

    "Strange, extremely strange" Miusov pronounced, not so much with

heat as with latent indignation.

    "What strikes you as so strange?" Father Iosif inquired

cautiously.

    "Why, it's beyond anything!" cried Miusov, 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 the

Seventh!"

    "You are completely misunderstanding it," said Father Paissy

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!"

    Miusov was significantly silent. His whole figure expressed

extraordinary personal dignity. A supercilious and condescending smile

played on his lips. Alyosha watched it all with a throbbing heart. The

whole conversation stirred him profoundly. He glanced casually at

Rakitin, who was standing immovable in his place by the door listening

and watching intently though with downcast eyes. But from the colour

in his cheeks Alyosha guessed that Rakitin was probably no less

excited, and he knew what caused his excitement.

    "Allow me to tell you one little anecdote, gentlemen," Miusov said

impressively, with a peculiarly majestic air. "Some years ago, soon

after the coup d'etat 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."

    "You apply them to us, and look upon us as socialists?" Father

Paissy asked directly, without beating about the bush.

    But before Pyotr Alexandrovitch could think what to answer, the

door opened, and the guest so long expected, Dmitri Fyodorovitch, came

in. They had, in fact, given up expecting him, and his sudden

appearance caused some surprise for a moment.