In my search for answers to life’s questions I experienced

just what is felt by a man lost in a forest.

He reaches a glade, climbs a tree, and clearly sees the

limitless distance, but sees that his home is not and cannot be

there; then he goes into the dark wood and sees the darkness, but

there also his home is not.

So I wandered n that wood of human knowledge, amid the gleams

of mathematical and experimental science which showed me clear

horizons but in a direction where there could be no home, and also

amid the darkness of the abstract sciences where I was immersed in

deeper gloom the further I went, and where I finally convinced

myself that there was, and could be, no exit.

Yielding myself to the bright side of knowledge, I understood

that I was only diverting my gaze from the question. However

alluringly clear those horizons which opened out before me might

be, however alluring it might be to immerse oneself in the

limitless expanse of those sciences, I already understood that the

clearer they were the less they met my need and the less they

applied to my question.

“I know,” said I to myself, “what science so persistently

tries to discover, and along that road there is no reply to the

question as to the meaning of my life.” In the abstract sphere I

understood that notwithstanding the fact, or just because of the

fact, that the direct aim of science is to reply to my question,

there is no reply but that which I have myself already given:

“What is the meaning of my life?” “There is none.” Or: “What

will come of my life?” “Nothing.” Or: “Why does everything exist

that exists, and why do I exist?” “Because it exists.”

Inquiring for one region of human knowledge, I received an

innumerable quantity of exact replies concerning matters about

which I had not asked: about the chemical constituents of the

stars, about the movement of the sun towards the constellation

Hercules, about the origin of species and of man, about the forms

of infinitely minute imponderable particles of ether; but in this

sphere of knowledge the only answer to my question, “What is the

meaning of my life?” was: “You are what you call your ‘life’; you

are a transitory, casual cohesion of particles. The mutual

interactions and changes of these particles produce in you what you

call your “life”. That cohesion will last some time; afterwards

the interaction of these particles will cease and what you call

“life” will cease, and so will all your questions. You are an

accidentally united little lump of something. that little lump

ferments. The little lump calls that fermenting its ‘life’. The

lump will disintegrate and there will be an end of the fermenting

and of all the questions.” So answers the clear side of science

and cannot answer otherwise if it strictly follows its principles.

From such a reply one sees that the reply does not answer the

question. I want to know the meaning of my life, but that it is a

fragment of the infinite, far from giving it a meaning destroys its

every possible meaning. The obscure compromises which that side of

experimental exact science makes with abstract science when it says

that the meaning of life consists in development and in cooperation

with development, owing to their inexactness and obscurity cannot

be considered as replies.

The other side of science — the abstract side — when it

holds strictly to its principles, replying directly to the

question, always replies, and in all ages has replied, in one and

the same way: “The world is something infinite and

incomprehensible part of that incomprehensible ‘all’.” Again I

exclude all those compromises between abstract and experimental

sciences which supply the whole ballast of the semi-sciences called

juridical, political, and historical. In those semi-sciences the

conception of development and progress is again wrongly introduced,

only with this difference, that there it was the development of

everything while here it is the development of the life of mankind.

The error is there as before: development and progress in infinity

can have no aim or direction, and, as far as my question is

concerned, no answer is given.

In truly abstract science, namely in genuine philosophy — not

in that which Schopenhauer calls “professorial philosophy” which

serves only to classify all existing phenomena in new philosophic

categories and to call them by new names — where the philosopher

does not lose sight of the essential question, the reply is always

one and the same — the reply given by Socrates, Schopenhauer,

Solomon, and buddha.

“We approach truth only inasmuch as we depart from life”, said

Socrates when preparing for death. “For what do we, who love

truth, strive after in life? To free ourselves from the body, and

from all the evil that is caused by the life of the body! If so,

then how can we fail to be glad when death comes to us?

“The wise man seeks death all his life and therefore death is

not terrible to him.”

And Schopenhauer says:

“Having recognized the inmost essence of the world as will,

and all its phenomena — from the unconscious working of the

obscure forces of Nature up to the completely conscious action of

man — as only the objectivity of that will, we shall in no way

avoid the conclusion that together with the voluntary renunciation

and self-destruction of the will all those phenomena also

disappear, that constant striving and effort without aim or rest on

all the stages of objectivity in which and through which the world

exists; the diversity of successive forms will disappear, and

together with the form all the manifestations of will, with its

most universal forms, space and time, and finally its most

fundamental form — subject and object. Without will there is no

concept and no world. Before us, certainly, nothing remains. But

what resists this transition into annihilation, our nature, is only

that same wish to live — Wille zum Leben — which forms

ourselves as well as our world. That we are so afraid of

annihilation or, what is the same thing, that we so wish to live,

merely means that we are ourselves nothing else but this desire to

live, and know nothing but it. And so what remains after the

complete annihilation of the will, for us who are so full of the

will, is, of course, nothing; but on the other hand, for those in

whom the will has turned and renounced itself, this so real world

of ours with all its suns and milky way is nothing.”

“Vanity of vanities”, says Solomon — “vanity of vanities

all is vanity. What profit hath a man of all his labor which he

taketh under the sun? One generation passeth away, and another

generation commeth: but the earth abideth for ever….The thing

that hath been, is that which shall be; and that which is done is

that which shall be done: and there is no new thing under the sun.

Is there anything whereof it may be said, See, this is new? it hath

been already of old time, which was before us. there is no

remembrance of former things; neither shall there be any

remembrance of things that are to come with those that shall come

after. I the Preacher was King over Israel in Jerusalem. And I

gave my heart to seek and search out by wisdom concerning all that

is done under heaven: this sore travail hath God given to the sons

of man to be exercised therewith. I have seen all the works that

are done under the sun; and behold, all is vanity and vexation of

spirit….I communed with my own heart, saying, Lo, I am come to

great estate, and have gotten more wisdom than all they that have

been before me over Jerusalem: yea, my heart hath great experience

of wisdom and knowledge. And I gave my heart to know wisdom, and

to know madness and folly: I perceived that this also is vexation

of spirit. For in much wisdom is much grief: and he that

increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow.

“I said in my heart, Go to now, I will prove thee with mirth,

therefore enjoy pleasure: and behold this also is vanity. I said of

laughter, It is mad: and of mirth, What doeth it? I sought in my

heart how to cheer my flesh with wine, and while my heart was

guided by wisdom, to lay hold on folly, till I might see what it

was good for the sons of men that they should do under heaven the

number of the days of their life. I made me great works; I builded

me houses; I planted me vineyards; I made me gardens and orchards,

and I planted trees in them of all kinds of fruits: I made me pools

of water, to water therefrom the forest where trees were reared: I

got me servants and maidens, and had servants born in my house;

also I had great possessions of herds and flocks above all that

were before me in Jerusalem: I gathered me also silver and gold and

the peculiar treasure from kings and from the provinces: I got me

men singers and women singers; and the delights of the sons of men,

as musical instruments and all that of all sorts. So I was great,

and increased more than all that were before me in Jerusalem: also

my wisdom remained with me. And whatever mine eyes desired I kept

not from them. I withheld not my heart from any joy….Then I

looked on all the works that my hands had wrought, and on the

labour that I had laboured to do: and, behold, all was vanity and

vexation of spirit, and there was no profit from them under the

sun. And I turned myself to behold wisdom, and madness, and

folly…. But I perceived that one even happeneth to them all.

Then said I in my heart, As it happeneth to the fool, so it

happeneth even to me, and why was I then more wise? then I said in

my heart, that this also is vanity. For there is no remembrance of

the wise more than of the fool for ever; seeing that which now is

in the days to come shall all be forgotten. And how dieth the wise

man? as the fool. Therefore I hated life; because the work that is

wrought under the sun is grievous unto me: for all is vanity and

vexation of spirit. Yea, I hated all my labour which I had taken

under the sun: seeing that I must leave it unto the man that shall

be after me…. For what hath man of all his labour, and of the

vexation of his heart, wherein he hath laboured under the sun? For

all his days are sorrows, and his travail grief; yea, even in the

night his heart taketh no rest. this is also vanity. Man is not

blessed with security that he should eat and drink and cheer his

soul from his own labour…. All things come alike to all: there is

one event to the righteous and to the wicked; to the good and to

the evil; to the clean and to the unclean; to him that sacrificeth

and to him that sacrificeth not; as is the good, so is the sinner;

and he that sweareth, as he that feareth an oath. This is an evil

in all that is done under the sun, that there is one event unto

all; yea, also the heart of the sons of men is full of evil, and

madness is in their heart while they live, and after that they go

to the dead. For him that is among the living there is hope: for

a living dog is better than a dead lion. For the living know that

they shall die: but the dead know not any thing, neither have they

any more a reward; for the memory of them is forgotten. also their

love, and their hatred, and their envy, is now perished; neither

have they any more a portion for ever in any thing that is done

under the sun.”

So said Solomon, or whoever wrote those words. [Footnote:

tolstoy’s version differs slightly in a few places from our own

Authorized or Revised version. I have followed his text, for in a

letter to Fet, quoted on p. 18, vol. ii, of my “Life of Tolstoy,”

he says that “The Authorized English version [of Ecclesiastes] is

bad.” — A.M.]

And this is what the Indian wisdom tells:

Sakya Muni, a young, happy prince, from whom the existence of

sickness, old age, and death had been hidden, went out to drive and

saw a terrible old man, toothless and slobbering. the prince, from

whom till then old age had been concealed, was amazed, and asked

his driver what it was, and how that man had come to such a

wretched and disgusting condition, and when he learnt that this was

the common fate of all men, that the same thing inevitably awaited

him — the young prince — he could not continue his drive, but

gave orders to go home, that he might consider this fact. So he

shut himself up alone and considered it. and he probably devised

some consolation for himself, for he subsequently again went out to

drive, feeling merry and happy. But this time he saw a sick man.

He saw an emaciated, livid, trembling man with dim eyes. The

prince, from whom sickness had been concealed, stopped and asked

what this was. And when he learnt that this was sickness, to which

all men are liable, and that he himself — a healthy and happy

prince — might himself fall ill tomorrow, he again was in no mood

to enjoy himself but gave orders to drive home, and again sought

some solace, and probably found it, for he drove out a third time

for pleasure. But this third time he saw another new sight: he saw

men carrying something. ‘What is that?’ ‘A dead man.’ ‘What does

dead mean?’ asked the prince. He was told that to become dead

means to become like that man. The prince approached the corpse,

uncovered it, and looked at it. ‘What will happen to him now?’

asked the prince. He was told that the corpse would be buried in

the ground. ‘Why?’ ‘Because he will certainly not return to life,

and will only produce a stench and worms.’ ‘And is that the fate

of all men? Will the same thing happen to me? Will they bury me,

and shall I cause a stench and be eaten by worms?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Home!

I shall not drive out for pleasure, and never will so drive out

again!’

And Sakya Muni could find no consolation in life, and decided

that life is the greatest of evils; and he devoted all the strength

of his soul to free himself from it, and to free others; and to do

this so that, even after death, life shall not be renewed any more

but be completely destroyed at its very roots. So speaks all the

wisdom of India.

These are the direct replies that human wisdom gives when it

replies to life’s question.

“The life of the body is an evil and a lie. Therefore the

destruction of the life of the body is a blessing, and we should

desire it,” says Socrates.

“Life is that which should not be — an evil; and the passage

into Nothingness is the only good in life,” says Schopenhauer.

“All that is in the world — folly and wisdom and riches and

poverty and mirth and grief — is vanity and emptiness. Man dies

and nothing is left of him. And that is stupid,” says Solomon.

“To life in the consciousness of the inevitability of

suffering, of becoming enfeebled, of old age and of death, is

impossible — we must free ourselves from life, from all possible

life,” says Buddha.

And what these strong minds said has been said and thought and

felt by millions upon millions of people like them. And I have

thought it and felt it.

So my wandering among the sciences, far from freeing me from

my despair, only strengthened it. One kind of knowledge did not

reply to life’s question, the other kind replied directly

confirming my despair, indicating not that the result at which I

had arrived was the fruit of error or of a diseased state of my

mind, but on the contrary that I had thought correctly, and that my

thoughts coincided with the conclusions of the most powerful of

human minds.

It is no good deceiving oneself. It is all — vanity! Happy

is he who has not been born: death is better than life, and one

must free oneself from life.