 Down the long path of history, trampling across centuries and continents and the graves of kings and the necks of dictators, seeking always a way of life where the people have their freedom, believing, praying, fighting, dying. We came this way. The NBC University of the Air, a public service feature of the National Broadcasting Company and its affiliated stations, presents We Came This Way, a new historical series for our listeners at home and overseas. With Clifton Utley as narrator, we present Chapter 8, the story of Leo Tolstoy in We Came This Way. For 82 years, Leo Tolstoy lived upon this earth. From 1828 to 1910, and his death stunned the world. All men felt the loss. All men, for one paralyzed moment in time, felt like orphans under the vast inexplicable silence of the sky. Few men in their lifetime could seize an empire, as one seizes a dog by the scuff of its neck, and shake it with a giant anger until justice was shaken loose from it. Few men, a handful, and Count Leo Tolstoy was one of them. The time is the last decade of the 19th century. The fame of Tolstoy tolls like a great bell across the world. He is all things to all men. To the revolutionist. He is the great enemy of the Russian aristocracy. To the religious dissenter. He follows the true teachings of Christ. To men of letters. He is the supreme literary artist of the world. And to the ministers of his Imperial Majesty, Tsar Alexander III. He is dangerous. He is 63 years old. His eyes are quick and piercing. His white patriarchal beard gives him the appearance of a biblical prophet. Power emanates from his whole being. Power and a sense of a vast profundity. He is already written war and peace. Anna Karenina, the Christ of Sonata. He has already written his famous religious and moral works. He has formulated his concept of the state. It is evil. It is corrupt and cruel. Yet Tolstoy will not preach resistance to that evil. For at the core of his beliefs is the principle of non-resistance. I repeat, do not resist evil. To change things in the outside world means to do violence. To hurt someone. Thus to resist one evil with another. Let thy deeds of reform be committed in thy soul. If thy cheek be struck, turn to them the other. Do not resist evil. Cherish love instead. But this is the tale of how Leo Tolstoy did resist evil. This is the story of how Tolstoy betrayed himself. It is summer, 1891. A hot dry wind has blown across Russia's center provinces for months. The grass and the grain have with it. The streams have dried and the cattle load disconsolately in the burned out fields. Famine, that final horror of the peasants' lives, looms in the land. And they turn to the authorities. Excellency, Excellency, God is my witness. My son's bones stick out like the knuckles on my hand. But the authorities do nothing. They try to hush it up. And the cries for help fade away into the hurried whispers in government bureaus. But the liberal elements are shocked and voluntary relief begins. Funds are needed to fight the disaster. And they turn to the famous of the Empire to lend their prestige to the collections. And, certain of his agreement, they turn to Count Leo Tolstoy. Well? Does your own wife have to pound like a police officer before she can see you? What is it, Sophie? Priestsky is leaving. He is insulted. So, has he not insulted me? But how, Leo? How? By asking me to join with him in what is essentially a criminal deed. Criminal? I don't see how it's criminal to aid starving peasants. I should expect my wife to approve my actions. But how can I when I don't understand them? Priestsky, an old friend, comes to visit. He talks about helping the peasants in Ryazan province. And all at once, you grow angry. You shout, you call him a coward and a thief, and then you rush from the room. How am I to understand that? Charity is an evil. A cowardly act. A throwing of a bone to save the whole dish. Furthermore, I will not resist the evil brought on by this society with another evil. Then what in heaven's name is to be done for these hungry people? Let them starve? Now, don't shrug, and don't be angry at me. I am not Priestsky. I am only a Christian woman who thinks it cruel and un-Christian to permit men and women and children to starve. Will you leave me, Sophie? I repeat, I will not have anything to do with these hypocritical schemes of charity. Meanwhile, the sun climbed higher each day in Ryazan, and famine crept from village to village, and nightmare overwhelmed that land. And others came to Tolstoy, each bringing a fragment more of the calamity. And on his estate, the Yastlinga Polyana Tolstoy listened. The children with their swollen bellies, they stare at you as though you and you alone have brought this horror into their lives. To keep warm, Leonid Levits, they are burning the straw from their rooftops, and of course, the more straw they burn, the colder their huts become. And after each new fragment of the terrible tale Tolstoy grew more silent and brooding. Sometimes he rose abruptly and went out. Signs were multiplying, the lips quivering, great, knotty hands moving restlessly, the sudden silences, and the growing look in his face as if a man perpetually haunted by scenes of horror. Yes, the signs were multiplying, until one evening at dinner. Aren't you hungry? Leo. You haven't touched your food. I am not hungry. Are you ill? Leo, what's the matter with you? What's about the table as if you've never seen any of us before? You are eating. All of you eating. Of course. What is it, Leo? How can you? How can you let food to your mouths and not choke on it? What? What are you talking about? We sit and eat and grow fat. The bread is white, there is meat. Do not your soul revolt at it. You are ill. Tanya. You cannot feel thousands of peasants standing at your side as you eat, breathing upon you, staring with wild, famished eyes at the food as you gulp it down. Do you not hear their children wailing? Don't you? Stop eating! Stop! Leo, what is wrong? Sophie, where is our asking? In what province? In Riyazan. What are you calling Simeon for? I am sick. I am going away, that is all. I am going to Riyazan. And Tolstoy rode to the province of Riyazan to fight a famine with money indeed. Then from Moscow a courier also rode to the province bearing a letter from the minister of police to the governor of Riyazan province. The charge minister considered it highly advisable that the movements and activities of Count Leo Tolstoy be carefully watched and reported upon. Whatever articles he will write on the conditions in Riyazan meant for publication will be carefully censored. But police spies were an old story to Tolstoy. In fact, he expected them. But armies of spies could not prevent him from doing what needed to be done. Now tell me, Ryevsky, what's to be done first? Food. Food kitchens must be set up. And then? Clothing. The people must have clothing. And what of the cattle? The horses? The cows? You cannot save the peasants without saving his cattle. I hadn't thought of that. We must set up feeding stations for the cattle. Tell me, how many peasants are you feeding now? Some 8,000 are all we can manage. But that is only a handful. We must double it. Double it? With what? Our funds are being stretched tighter than a drumhead now. Then we must raise more funds. And how are we to do that? I could... Could what? I could write an appeal. Funds will come in. It is unable to write for money. But what is one to do? Tell me, what is one to do? And from the midst of the slicken area came the first of the famine articles told story was to write. And it was called, The Terrible Question. In Ryezan, a ragged woman came out to us. She had five children. The oldest daughter was only ten. Two were sick. It must have been from influenza. This woman lived and fed her children on crusts that she got by begging. Yet how they lived was a miracle. For what crusts are there to be found? Where there is famine? So can we stand idly by when women and children are dying of starvation and disease? It is impossible not to give. All it needs is to be men. And such men I know there really are. And such men there were. In spite of censorship that mutilated the article in the Russian publications, funds began to pour in. Pity and Tolstoy's stirring appeal loosened purses. And not only in Russia but from western Europe contributions came. For the article was translated for the foreign press. And soon because the whole civilized world answered Leo Tolstoy's appeal, there were enough funds to carry the peasants over two years of famine. Tolstoy armed with money. Now further betrays his beliefs. Daily he rides from village to village. His intellect at war with the vast pity in his heart. Are you warm enough old man? Your Excellency, you've brought fuel so there's heat. And you've brought food so there's comfort. I am warm and grateful to your Excellency. And you old woman. How can I complain? Leona Kalayavich. Yesterday hunger was like a pair of claws in my stomach. And now God is good. We are alive. For that I'd kiss your hand. No, no I will not have it. I will not take gratitude for a betrayal. Forgive me. That is how it should be. Forgive. My soul cries out in horror at what I do. But the state is concerned with deeds. The state judges the deed and not the heart. Tolstoy's deeds filled the officials with alarm. To Moscow went daily reports. Excellency, yesterday Count Tolstoy spoke to the peasants and said, A man needs but to realize that the object of his life is the fulfillment of God's law. Then the preeminence of that law claiming as it does his entire allegiance will have necessity invalidate the authority and restrictions of all human laws. And the reactionary nobles who had always been Tolstoy's enemies felt that the moment was now ripe for a hope they'd nourished for years. To see his Imperial Majesty's minister of police. Come in, my dear Count. Come in. Forgive me for requesting an audience so early. You know you are always welcome, my dear Count. What can I do for you? I've come about Tolstoy. How much longer will his activities be tolerated? Activities? Yes. His activities in this crop failure in Ryazan. His articles have scandalized the holy name of Russia before the world. We censor all his writings, my dear Count. And what about those appearing in foreign publications? What can I do about those? Tolstoy has for years carried on attacks against all our established institutions against the very pillars of our empire. But he has only preached a Christian pacifism. That is all. He's never spoken for violence. One resistance, I think he calls it. Perhaps. But the peasants do not make such fine distinctions. He says we have robbed them and they believe it. His Christian words can become battle cries in the peasants' mouths. So what would you have me do? Arrest him on the grounds of blackening Russia's name before the world. Are you serious, my dear Count? I do not jest. But Tolstoy is world famous. To arrest him would create a greater scandal. We would become a very monster among nations for arresting a man who is feeding hungry peasants. He must be silenced. That, I grant, he must be silenced. But the question is, how? I and thousands of others over-eaten beef steaks and sturgeons and cover our houses with cloths and carpets. No matter what the learned of the world may say to justify it, this is a crime committed not once, but perpetually. Were I a peasant suffering the misery of this famine, I would rise against such conditions. And this appeared in England. And the last phrase to rise against such conditions was a mistranslation. But in Moscow the reactionaries cried out that now Tolstoy preached open revolt. There, there it is in black and white. Do you need any more motive for Tolstoy's arrest? A wild revolutionary trying to steep us all in bloodshed. I tried to explain to you the difficulties before, my dear Count. Tolstoy cannot be just summarily arrested. If you do not silence him, then you shall suffer personally. I shall take it to the Emperor himself. But I granted that to... To what, sir? Why, that's it. That's it exactly. It's perfect. What are you talking about? Silence him. It's ideal. A monastery, that's it. Tolstoy must be confined in a monastery. If you are ready, I will dictate. I am ready, Excellency. So, to his Imperial Majesty, Alexander III, because Count Leo Tolstoy has openly called for revolution because he has for years represented a potential danger to the peace of your Majesty's reign, after careful deliberation with due regard to Tolstoy's international reputation, the problem of how best to render him harmless has been solved. Your Majesty's Minister takes the liberty of suggesting that on his Emperor's orders, Count Leo Tolstoy be commanded immediately to proceed to the monastery at Tula and there to be confined. But the great have friends everywhere. And in government ministries, secrets quickly become accurate rumors. Word of what was planned sped to Yassning Apolliana and on a winter's day Tolstoy's wife, Sophie Andreyevna, set out for Ryazan and she found Tolstoy in an obscure village. It is incredible. Coming here in the middle of winter. I had to see you, Leo. Are you a young girl who makes such a trip? You couldn't send someone else? Leo, please stop. I have important news. Very well then. What is it, Sophie? I have had word from Moscow. They are planning to put you away. What? Out of the world, into a monastery because of your activities and writings here. Count Povya Donostyev is behind it all. Don't stare so. It's truly, oh, true as I breathe. Calm yourself, Sophie. How can I be calm? It is I who will be alone. It is my children who will be without their father. Sophie, stop it. Stop it and tell me what you know. A petition is prepared for the emperor, requesting him to order you to the monastery at Tula. They don't dare. Come home with me, Leo. I cannot. Then what am I to do? You are no longer a young man, Leo. You will die. Come home. I will make it quiet for you. You will write wonderful things. Yes, please, please. Sophie, I cannot come home. I cannot stop this work. How will these poor people eat? How will they keep warm? How could I live with such a guilt upon my mind? Meanwhile in Moscow, the petition moves upwards through back room intrigues of ministries. Like some secret dishonorable treaty that is smuggled onwards. Minister, Count and Grand Duke all see it and approve. Reaction with all its clamoring power pushes it toward the emperor. From Yazant to Moscow rode Sophie Andreyevna, distraught and frightened, and she came to Countess Alexander Tolstoy, an old woman of 70, and an aunt of Leo Tolstoy, a woman influential in the Tsar's court, a woman with a prime minister's brain. And he will not leave off his activities, Sophie? No. He is like an ox, stubborn. Nothing moves him. Does he know who is behind this petition? He knows everything, Alexander. Leo was always headstrong. He will do something, Alexandra. Please promise me you will do something. Oh, I am half out of my mind about it all. I am an old woman, Sophie, and old women do not change the minds of emperors, as these ladies' young ones. But you have known the emperor since he was a child. True. But emperors have sharp memories, my dear. Then what shall I do? How can I live without Leo? Thirty years we've been together. Even when he is angry, even with his strange ideas, I feel like a young girl about him, Alexandra, like a young girl. No tears, Sophie, no tears. Look up at me. There, that's better. What shall I do, Alexandra? You? Nothing, Sophie. I will do it. I'll see the emperor. Oh, I kiss your hands, Alexandra. The hem of your dress. I'll see him, and I will talk to him, Sophie. And pray, God, he remembers the games I played with him when he was a child. And Countess Alexandra wrote a letter. Sayer, an old woman begs an audience with you on matters close to her heart and close to yours. You have given many happinesses to her. She comes now to beg one more. And a note was returned to her. Countess, the old woman need not come for an audience. The child will come to her instead. Time, Alexandra. Majesty, Sir Alexander. No, no, no. Get up, my dear Countess. Kneeling is for young women. Thank you, Sayer. Will you sit down? Well, what is it you wish, Countess? One isn't sure of how to begin, Sayer. That is not like you, Countess. Only a novice of a minister is unsure of how to begin. It is about a nephew of mine. A nephew? Which one? Sayer, in a few days a petition will be submitted to your Majesty for the confinement in a monastery of the most popular man in Russia. So, now I know your nephew. Count Leo Tolstoy. You have guessed right, Sayer. Well, what has he done now, inspired against my life? Oh, heaven forbid, Sayer. No, never. It is because of his activities and writings in Riazhan on the crop failure. Well, my dear Countess, from what information I have those activities and writings have been far from innocent. Oh, perhaps, Sayer. But if any such confining of Tolstoy be carried out who would be blamed? Blamed? What do you mean? My nephew, Sayer, is world famous. To confine him and silence him would arouse public indignation, not only in Russia, but in Europe as well. Accusing voices would be raised. Because it is a monastery, it will not mitigate the blame, Sayer, as your ministers seem to have thought. Tolstoy will be shut away from the world, and that is enough. And the blame for such an act will not be directed against your minister, Sayer, nor against your grand duke. But at the head of the Russian state, Sayer, it will be directed at you. In a few days, when the petition arrived upon the emperor's desk, peremptorily the tsar said, Do not touch Leotolstoy. I do not have the slightest desire of transforming him into a martyr and winning thereby for myself the indignation of all of Russia. If he is guilty of anything, well, so much the worse for him. Let it be upon his own conscience. And Leotolstoy continued to work unmolested in the areas of famine. And he continued to write, doing those things that were contrary to his belief, resisting evil, collecting funds, doing those things that meant his association with a corrupt and evil state. While he fed and clothed his fellow man, he cried out against the system of life he lived in, proclaiming that the true salvation for men will come only when all men truly become Christians. This state that means prisons, punishments, and injustices will fall by itself. It will suffice for men to cease to care about worldly and public affairs. And immediately, without struggle and without effort, that abnormal organization of life which tortures them and threatens them with still greater misfortunes in the future will crumble. And God's kingdom will set in. Few men are monumental enough to plow up the accepted ideas of their country, are great enough to shake the smug, self-satisfied minds of men and prepare them for cataclysms to come. Tolstoy shook the thinking of his time. He roused the consciousness of social inequality. He raised the poor, the missable and the downtrodden to the stage of human events. In his time, he became the conscience of the civilized world. His voice thundered against injustice. The road toward democratic justice is a long and bitter road. We who are upon it today and know our children will be upon it tomorrow should be proud of those who came before. We should be proud and uplifted because Leo Tolstoy also came this way. The NBC University of the Air has brought you chapter 8 of the new historical series, We Came This Way. Next week, We Came This Way will present Gambetta, a republic is born. Would you like to know more of the life and times of Tolstoy, Whitman and Hugo? A handbook containing life stories of 13 great leaders in the struggle for human liberty has been prepared as an interesting supplement to the broadcast series. To obtain your copy, write We Came This Way. Address your requests to Columbia University Press, Station J, New York 27, and in close 25 cents in coin to cover costs of printing and mailing. Tonight's script was written by Raphael Hayes and was directed by Homer Heck. Original music was composed by Emil Sodastrom and conducted by Joseph Glicchio. Members of the cast included Clifton Utley as narrator, Philip Lord as Tolstoy, and Alma Platt as Sophie. Others in the cast were Virginia Payne, Gilbert Ferguson, Barnett Franks, Jim Goss, Tom Post, and Fred Sullivan. This series is presented each week as a public service feature of the National Broadcasting Company and its affiliated stations. This is the National Broadcasting Company.