Original subtitles

M. GORKY Film Studio USSR

and Slovakian Film Studio "KOLIBA" Bratislava, Cz. SSR

with participation of "SOVINFILM", USSR

and "CZECHOSLOVAKIAN FILMEXPORT" Association, Cz. SSR

The producers thank for providing creative assistance

the employees of "YASNAYA POLYANA" Museum Estate

and L.N. TOLSTOY Museum in Moscow

LEV TOLSTOY

Written and Directed by Sergey GERASIMOV

Director of Photography Sergey FILIPPOV

Production Designers:

Aleksandr POPOV Milos KALINA

Music by Pavel CHEKALOV

English Subtitles by T. Kameneva

Music played in the film is from the works by

Liszt, Chopin, Taneyev, Rachmaninov

Starring

Lev Tolstoy Sergey GERASIMOV

Sofia Andreyevna Tamara MAKAROVA

Dushan Petrovich Makovitsky Borivoj NAVRATIL

Vladimir Grigoryevich Chertkov Alexei PETRENKO

Also starring

Tatyana Lvovna - M. USTIMENKO Aleksandra Lvovna - Ye. VASILYEVA

Sergey Lvovich - K. YANAKIYEV Andrei Lvovich - V. PROSKURIN

A.B. Goldenveiser - N. YERYOMENKO A.P. Sergiyenko - A. SHMARINOV

V.F. Bulgakov - V. BARANOV M.N. Tolstaya - M. GAVRILKO

I.I. Ozolin - Yu. MIKHAILOV K.I. Orlov - L. GREGOR

Yershova - O. MARKINA A. Shurayeva - L. POLEKHINA

Telegraphist - O. SHUK

Land-surveyor - P. MIKULIK Peasant - V. KASHPUR

Merchant - K. GRIGORYEV High-school student - L. SADILOVA

Tanechka Sukhotina - Lera VELMOGA

it's strange that I have to remain silent

with people living around me

and talk only to those, distant in time and place,

who will hear me.

Diary, October 26, 1907

Part One INSOMNIA

Oh, how far have I gone!

Oh, how far...

No.

All this is worthless.

Children.

What they were like.

And what they're like now.

They're looking and asking as if...

What is all this for?

Yes, yes, what for?

I wrote once about the peasant Pakhom,

who knew what this all was for.

He lived to eat well, to sleep comfortably,

to have a lot of everything - money and land.

And about the cheerful,

wise Bashkirs

who told him, "Take it."

Put down one thousand rubles in the hat, and take it.

"As much as you can run around from sunrise till sunset, all is yours."

Yes.

And they waited.

They wondered how much land that man needed.

It wasn't the first time they waited like this, always with the same result.

And this time, it was the same.

The man's greed.

Six feet, to bury him -

that much land he finally needed.

How much land had I bought then in the Samara steppes just for a song?

Such greed!

Why? For whom?

My wife was saying, for the children.

So that they eat well and sleep long.

But one needs just six feet.

Whichever way you look at it, you'll just need six feet of land.

Yes...

Chekhov said: "it's a corpse that needs six feet.

And a man needs the whole world."

What an arrogant statement!

Yet she hadn't reckoned with him either, took him away when he was only 44.

That was his youth speaking in him, the gift of life.

I was like that, too.

Yes, I was.

A stormy youth I had had.

Yes...

it was, and no more.

I loved her.

Even now I can't overstep it.

But so much has stood up between us in those years!

Oh God...

What wrong have I done him?

I bore him 13 children, and brought up 9.

I'm trying to make it better, but it's getting worse and worse.

With each day we're getting more and more distant.

Only the children...

Children.

How I wanted to tear them away from superstitions,

to bring them up to light, to knowledge.

I decided to open a school.

A school? What school? By whose command?

Why the teachers are students? To write proclamations?

Search!

I was out of Russia then, away from Yasnaya Polyana, and that's too bad.

Everything would have been different.

They went through all the ponds with a dragnet,

looking, just imagine, for a printing press.

There's nothing here but snags.

Enough of talking.

We'll have to lift the floor in the stable.

That's when I had to come out.

What can I do for you?

What's going on here?

Calm down, Count. I have an injunction.

And I have a right to defend myself from robbers and scoundrels.

Don't do it, Count.

Come to your senses, Your Excellency, you'll answer before God and the Tsar.

Silence!

I would have gotten the noose or hard labor.

And I may as well.

Then everything would have fallen into place.

And it would have been better than now,

when I'm saying one thing and doing another.

The people would have understood.

Well, all right.

I have to get some sleep.

But where is the truth?

Christ said: "Do not resist evil."

And when evil is in you?

What then?

I must go to sleep.

Go to sleep, go to sleep...

Oh, it's so frightening!

What a nightmare...

Lyovochka.

Lyovochka.

Thank God.

Save and have mercy, Heavenly Mother of God.

They're felling somewhere.

They're felling trees somewhere.

Good morning, Lev Nikolayevich.

Good morning, Ilya Vasilyevich.

Well...

No, I'll do it myself.

Did you hurt yourself?

No, I didn't, but I did grow old.

Grandpa!

Oh, and who is this?

- Good morning, Grandpa! - Good morning.

Good morning, papa.

Come here.

Well, Tatyana, did you sleep well?

- Good morning, papa. - Good morning.

While you're getting all together, I think I'll take a walk.

Yes, I will.

Good morning, Your Excellency.

Good morning, father.

- So you came again. - Yes, I did.

I won't give you more than 5 kopecks. You'll waste it on drink anyway.

But I'll drink to your health. Thank you.

And where are you from?

From Arsenyevo, father.

- Are they yours? - Yes, mine.

- Thank you. - Here.

Thank you.

Thank you.

God save you.

Good health to you, Your Excellency.

- Where're you from? - The village of Bogdanovka.

I know, I've been there.

- You live poorly. - God forbid.

God save you.

Don't get up.

Where're you from?

From Udoyevo, we lost everything in a fire.

Yes, I heard, I heard. Here.

- Thank you. - You've come a long way.

Here, you take it, too.

Good health to you, father, our benefactor.

- A veteran? - Yes, a veteran, Your Excellency.

Fought with Turks, the infidels.

Lost a leg and an arm. Please help, Your Excellency.

We must help you.

Thank you.

And where're you from?

- May I speak to you? - You may.

You may. Well, what's happened?

I don't believe in God anymore.

Grandpa, I've been waiting for you.

It's good you've been waiting.

Good morning.

Good morning.

Good morning, Varvara Grigoryevna. Did you sleep well?

- Very well, Lev Nikolayevich. - Good.

Eat, please.

It's hard to live in this world.

Why is it hard for you? Everybody loves you.

Why can't it be hard for me? Because the food is good?

I said that everybody loves you.

Right, though secretly they must be thinking:

"That damned old geezer,"

he says one thing and does something else.

"It's time for you to hit the bucket, enough of your pharisaism."

Come on, Lev Nikolayevich. That's going too far.

Why? It's true.

I get many letters like this.

And I believe it's my friends who write them.

Friends?

Friends tell the truth, they don't go against their conscience.

So they must be friends.

Just look.

I come out in the morning

and always see 5, 7, or more,

hungry, ragged, destitute people.

And what?

I give them as much as I can.

Then I sit up on horseback.

My coachman is beside me. And I go for a ride.

Yes, there was one with a bad face there, I saw him from the window.

Worse than yours?

Yes, worse. He wasn't just not handsome, he had a bad face.

Like a man's who drinks and smokes.

And doesn't eat enough.

Grandpa, how many pancakes have you eaten?

I'm eating my second one.

I got a third one, but that's all they've given me.

I haven't earned more.

I have a very interesting work now on books "for every day",

and here comes that introduction

to Boulanger's article on Buddhism.

It interferes with my work so much, distracting me.

Nothing works out, I've redone it seven times.

And if it doesn't go well from the start with me, the old fogy that I am,

then I write worse than a village clerk.

So you do need a muse after all?

You bet I do.

But when it grips you right here, so that you can't keep silent anymore,

like a cough, then you can write.

Lev Nikolayevich, this is what Sergieyenko sent yesterday.

These are Leskov's thoughts. Sergieyenko wrote them down himself.

Yes, I remember.

An old business, an old one...

Well, here...

He writes: "it's better not to do anything than do nothing."

There's something in it...

Or here...

"if Christ lived in our time,"

ladies would have asked for his autograph,

"and that would've been the end of the whole thing."

Lev Nikolayevich.

- It's your thought. - No.

- He must be quoting you. - It's your imagination.

You did say it.

Yes, papa. I remember it was your thought.

Really?

Yes.

Oh, it was so long ago.

There's something else here.

"Christ wouldn't have become a religion if not for the invention of resurrection.

And the principal inventor was Pavel."

- What did he say about Pavel? - That he's a principal inventor.

That's interesting, very profound.

It's serious.

And more.

Lyovochka, what happened?

There he goes crying.

He's always ready to burst into tears.

When he was a child, they called him crybaby Lyova.

I take after him in this respect.

It's amazing, I notice that peasants

have become impolite with me.

Three men didn't bow to me today, but I did.

Yet they did bow before.

Do you know what they say

when the one you greet doesn't doff his hat?

- You don't? - No.

They say, "No, don't take it off, or the lice will crawl out."

Just to spite him.

But I didn't say so.

Varvara Grigoryevna, I've read your James.

Well?

What can I say...

I was poring over it, using a dictionary.

But I did get through.

A poor work, very poor.

Superficial.

And the translation... Well, the translation is on your conscience.

And the afterword...

There's something about it... And besides, what a language!

What do you need it for - "existentialism"?

Why distort the language so?

There could be no other translation. There had to be a conventional term.

Was "subliminal" necessary too?

I've lived for 82 years,

and never heard that word - "subliminal".

What can such a foul word mean?

Subconscious.

Come on, ladies and gentlemen. Look what a marvelous weather it is!

Yes, it's marvelous, but I still don't understand what "sub" means.

I walk on the earth, the earth is under me. And what's this?

Oh, you're just pretending, putting a smoke screen!

The more complicated, the better.

So that no one understands anything, that's the only aim today.

I'm sorry, Varvara Grigoryevna,

I would love to please you, but truth is more important.

That's how it is.

- Good morning, children. - Good morning, Dushan Petrovich.

- Good morning, children. - Good morning, Lev Nikolayevich.

Here, the machine will speak with my voice.

It's called "phonograph".

Come closer.

Here.

Thank you, children, for coming to me.

It makes me happy when you study well.

Only, please, don't be naughty.

There're some who won't listen, only play naughty.

It's about you.

You're going to need what I'm telling you.

You will remember later, when I'm already gone,

that the old man was telling you good things.

Goodbye. It's enough.

That's all. Goodbye, I said, enough.

- Go. - Goodbye.

You came to see me?

Yes, I came to tell you.

- Where did you come from? - From the Urals.

I want you to know my comrades' opinion.

You see, after the article you wrote...

it is a fine article.

You cannot go on living as before.

It's time to move from words to action.

Well...

To throw a bomb? At whom exactly?

No one expects it from you.

If need be, there're people who can throw it.

Then what?

You must take your place.

Right, everyone should know one's place.

Excuse me.

Not at all.

He said it wrong.

He said what he thought.

Arrogantly.

Then it means he thought wrong.

Thank you.

- It was beautiful. - Thank you.

It's a terrible mistake to believe

that art can be meaningless.

Because the decline of art

is the very first sign of the decline of civilization.

When there're high ideals,

then in their name high art is created.

And if there're no ideals, as it is with us now, then there's no art.

There's only play.

Yes, play.

Playing with words, playing with sounds.

Playing with images. A game.

I got a letter the other day. From a Constitutional Democrat.

What's his name...

- Shall I bring it? - No.

He's writing exactly about decadence.

What is it?

Decline or progress?

I'm answering, of course: Decline.

Why do you think so?

I think so because the aim of art

is to stir up lofty feelings.

High art means lofty feelings.

And it may be the other way round - low art

can give rise to anything.

Crude voluptuousness, for instance.

Or there's another thing:

The feeling of exclusivity of your own circle.

Quite a fashionable feeling.

And I don't see

any lofty feelings among the decadents.

Though I got distracted.

Ah, Aleksandr Borisovich.

Your turn.

Well, I see someone has already opened up a Liszt.

And who did it?

I did.

It's no good.

Aleksandr Borisovich.

Something for the soul, my dear, for the soul.

Lev Nikolayevich, today's mail has arrived.

Why, this is from Gusev.

Yes, from Nikolai Nikolayevich.

Yes.

They have not only exiled him,

but searched him too.

And found my articles.

Now he's threatened with a new punishment.

And we're enjoying music here,

engaging in a pleasant talk.

This is no way, no way...

Misfortune follows on our heels.

Wherever you turn, you face it. Wherever you run, it's after you.

There's too much misfortune.

There's as much misfortune as there're people.

Have I ever been happy?

I guess I was.

When my youth was thundering.

Yes, I guess so.

Or on those first nights,

with that frightened and passionate face on the pillow...

That's what I wrote then to Grandma Alexandra:

"A frightened and passionate face."

Why is everything so between us?

Yes, why is everything so...

I don't know.

And I know.

Because you don't love me.

And perhaps never loved.

Why do you say that, Sonya?

I did. Of course I did.

And now...

What now?

I can't sleep.

Can't sleep.

Have I ever been happy?

Yes, I have...

I have been.

Oh, Tanya...

She was the merriest one as a child, too.

She was the merriest.

And when the Dyakovs came at Christmastide, that was something...

They're coming! Coming! Miklekseyich!

Let's go meet them.

Welcome!

This is my doe-hare. And this is the hare.

And what's the hare's name?

Well! Where's your waist?

You've never had it, and still don't.

Then put me down.

I had a boil on my finger,

they put a compress on and bandaged it.

The finger looked so thick that we nicknamed it Miklekseyich!

All right, let's make peace!

Come on, let's dance!

There danced the fish with the eel, And the parsley with the dill,

And the onion with the garlic, And the maiden with the Cossack.

And then I, a happy man,

took a shoelace out of my room,

where every night I remained alone, undressing.

I took it out, not to hang myself from a crossbeam between the wardrobes.

And stopped going hunting with a rifle,

not to be tempted by an easy way

of putting an end to my life.

I didn't know myself what I wanted.

I was afraid of life, I strove to get away from it.

And still I was expecting something from it.

With an amazing crudity,

though with a definiteness understood by everyone,

the Gospels express the idea that people's attitude towards poverty

and human suffering is the root, the foundation of everything.

If he's covered the naked with clothing, has given his bread to the hungry,

has visited those thrown in prison,

"he has clothed Me, given his bread to Me, visited Me."

And we gave bread, gave clothes and shoes.

In 1891, the year of famine,

you had to prove your right to feed people.

And we proved it, and we fed them.

Our entire family helped then, we were all together.

My sons helped make tables, set stoves,

and my daughters cooked from early morning.

On their feet all day, both Tanya and Masha...

We had to feed a lot of people.

Some sat at the tables, others waited for their turn.

But we fed them, and we were happy,

because we were all together, they were all with me.

And yet, the village poverty,

which I'd seen enough of in those hungry years,

is not as horrible as the city poverty,

aggravated by humiliation and vice.

I'd had enough proof of that in the days of the Moscow census,

when I got the idea of joining the cause of census

and the cause of helping the needy.

I remember that when I first went

to the so-called Rzhanovskaya Fortress,

where we were to begin the census,

even before reaching that notorious

doss-house in Moscow,

I could already have formed my first picture

of its inhabitants.

Kozyulikha! Kozyulikha!

She stole a boot top!

Mom, what's the matter with you, for God's sake?

Lying here like a queen!

Good day, Your Excellency. They're waiting for you, I'll show you in.

Stop whimpering, they're going to take your mother.

- What will happen to him? - Someone will pick him up.

They're in the big house, over the well. I'll show you.

Careful, Your Excellency.

In the courtyard, some disadvantaged people

were trying to get warm by a bonfire.

Perhaps because

the cold in their dwelling had forced them outside.

Why register us? We've got nothing.

She there been lying for days without any food. She may never get up.

Agafya! Agafya!

And who is she?

She used to be a streetwalker. No one wants her now.

So she can't get nothing anywhere.

Agafya.

What do you want?

Look.

So you haven't eaten anything at all?

Not eaten yesterday, not eaten today.

Here, take it.

Will you give me something too, sir?

I'll give you something, too.

God save you.

- Seryozha, come here. - Seryozha, come to us.

Come, don't be afraid.

Just look at him, here he is.

What have you got there?

- Come, and you'll see. - We'll treat you to something.

I got no time.

What are you so busy with?

- I need to look for some dwelling. - Why?

They arrested my landlord, closed and sealed the apartment.

Stay with us.

What? That's all we need!

Don't be afraid, I'm not staying.

Seryozha, come with me.

- Where? - I'll tell you.

He got scared then, and ran away.

Perhaps he didn't believe me, or maybe he'd lost faith in people.

Sir, give me a kopeck.

Good sir, give me a coin, too, for Christ's sake.

May God grant you good health.

He gave a ruble to Agafya.

Here, he gave me money, too.

Seryozha, what's the matter? Come with me.

Don't go.

Don't go, he'll cheat you.

Go, go, the mister is kind.

This mister is kind. Go with him.

Oh, my dear...

And the kind mister

brought the boy Seryozha to his house,

took him to the kitchen,

telling them to feed and take care of him,

and forgot about him,

distracted by his own affairs.

And when he remembered about him

and went to the kitchen to find out how he was,

the cook told him

that the boy Seryozha had left three days ago

and said nothing.

I felt perplexed, even insulted.

How could he?

But, thinking about it, I realized

that probably that boy Seryozha

had no need of that charity of mine.

And, realizing that, I got terrified

by the complexity of the thing I had conceived.

Doing a good deed does not mean

driving people under the roof like a flock of sheep.

I realized that there could arise some new difficulties,

that everyone would want to live as he likes.

And, having understood that,

I began to think about many other things.

It was hard for me to come to that realization,

but when I did, I got horrified

at the delusion I had been living with.

I stood in filth up to my ears, and wanted to pull others out of filth.

Really, what do I want, I was thinking.

I want people not to be cold and hungry,

I want them to live like human beings should live.

I want it, and I see that due to the violence,

extortion and ruse, in which I'm taking part,

the necessities are taken from the working people,

and those who don't work, to whom I belong too,

are using to excess what is produced by the work of others.

And I go and help those people, I go and help the poor.

And who is poor? There's no one poorer than I am.

I'm a good-for-nothing parasite,

a louse eating a leaf of the tree I want to help, you know.

Lyovochka, what's happened?

Nothing has happened.

But if you load the cart more and more,

then there comes a moment when the horse stops and goes no farther.

- I don't understand. - But you must understand.

You must understand that this is not the way to live,

that we can't go on living like this!

For instance, you think you're giving love

to the children, perhaps to me.

But I know that this is the most severe egoism,

and this love is detrimental to me, to you, to the children, to everybody.

Don't shout. I'm leaving.

Go tell to prepare the travel trunk.

You don't have to leave,

we need to talk, to sort things out.

Where're you going? Don't go anywhere.

You'll never understand that I love the children so madly that I ache.

It's not the right love, not the right one.

Try to understand that I just can't remain in this house.

I can't bring up the children the way they should be brought up.

I don't want anymore to be the owner of estates and houses.

You see? What do you need me like this for?

You don't want me like this. So let me go, let me go.

We have either to divorce or to radically change our life.

We have to give away our property.

And begin living by work, by our own work.

Procuring bread with our own hands, like all people do.

Dad is right.

If you leave, I'll kill myself.

- I'm thinking the way Dad is. - Shut up.

What change are you talking about?

It's beyond my understanding. I can't agree with this.

You want to destroy the life

that is happy in every respect, in the name of some chimeras.

Aren't we being happy?

We're a family, and family means work.

What work?

If you mean my writing, I believe it's debauchery.

Selling one's thoughts is no better than selling one's body.

Work is something different!

My God, what are you saying? Isn't this work?

I've copied thousands of pages that the whole world is reading!

It was some verbose nonsense that you were copying.

Come to your senses!

You're giving away the money earned by work to drunkards and loafers.

Father! Mother! I beg you, please don't!

I hadn't gone anywhere then,

neither had my wife.

And our life seemed to go on, taking its regular course.

Yet everything had changed.

Everything had changed.

I was tormented by thoughts about how to live in the future,

how to repay the people from whom I was taking so much

and to whom I was giving so little.

Then we became close with Vladimir Grigoryevich Chertkov.

He was preoccupied with the same thoughts.

And we decided to found together

a publishing house under the name of "Mediator",

a publishing house that would bring to the people,

for negligible money, the most talented,

clever and honest works of literature.

- Have you written to Shchedrin? - Yes, I have.

I think he can give many useful things for the "Mediator".

Yes, he's a prolific writer.

And a talented one.

- Not all of his works are talented. - And whose are?

Everything just can't be talented.

But his writing is much more interesting than the others'.

He sent several works for us to choose from.

I tried to look at it your way. But I couldn't.

Why not?

He's cruel and cocky.

And it's not our way, is it?

No, but he is so talented!

From what he's offering, only the short story

"Conscience ls Gone" may suit us.

Though there's a lot of everything in it, too.

Isn't there a lot of everything in life?

Life is no yardstick here.

It may lead us too far, I think.

The aim of the publishing house is to get to the soul of a simple man.

That's why we started the "Mediator".

But he got poison and malice in every line.

This way we could scare people off.

Certainly, it's for you to decide,

but in my opinion, we must not, Lev Nikolayevich,

we must not change our line.

No, we must not.

At first, his peremptoriness made me angry,

and, perhaps, something about me made him angry, too.

We argued, even to the point of quarreling,

but gradually we got adapted to one another,

and that went on for life.

A quarter of a century has passed since. And what has changed?

What has changed? A lot has changed.

I've been excommunicated

for maintaining

that the kingdom of God is not in church, but in the heart of everyone.

We divided our estate in 9 equal parts.

I surrendered to my wife

the copyright for my works written before 1881.

But she believes, and I'm afraid not only she but many others,

that it was unfair,

that she and the children have the right to inherit everything.

She wants to publish everything and get money for it.

Of course, there're eight children.

And they all want a life befitting a count.

But it's not true.

Not true, they're all different, and there's a lot of good in them.

Are Tanya, Sasha, Sergey thinking so?

And Masha! And Vanechka!

What losses!

Has her money been able to save them?

It can't be denied, she's like everybody else.

She can lean only on the icon and the money.

And she knows very well

that my most shallow line can still be turned into money.

Of course, to her, all values have their own measure.

The year before last, when we were passing through Moscow to Yasnaya,

she was on the pinnacle of happiness.

Of course, the newspapers wrote later that there were 30 thousand.

Who counted them?

They got word we were going via Moscow, and wanted to see us off.

It must have been in response to my article about the hanged.

But God is my witness, I didn't write it for the sake of popularity.

I just couldn't not write it, that's why I called it "I Can't Keep Silent".

I can't keep silent...

And then I thought:

A man can't see himself with others' eyes.

Though I guess I wasn't that bad.

Well, I think I'll be going.

Yes, of course.

Take care of yourself, Lev Nikolayevich.

You take care of yourself, my dear. And thank you very much.

Goodbye. Sofia Andreyevna.

Goodbye.

Like tsars, they gave us a farewell befitting the tsars.

I guess it doesn't do us honor, huh?

Yes...

There's a third thing she leans on.

Our father tsar.

She did save "Kreutzer Sonata".

Personally pleaded with the emperor, and got his permission.

My poor girl, how hard it must be for her!

She thinks everything in the world has been established for good:

Wealth and poverty, parents and children,

and the father tsar who will decide it for everyone in all fairness.

But in the 20th century everything collapses, everything changes.

What a clash of ideas!

What a fight of passions!

And the father tsar got different, and the people got different.

But I'm afraid of nothing now.

I was dying three times, I got used to it.

Back then in Gaspra, I had nearly left for the other shore.

Yet I came back. No one wants to die, no one.

It's interesting.

Everything is interesting.

I can't see well...

What is it over there?

Please, my dear, you look, you've got keener eyes.

What is it there, on the horizon?

I believe... it's a tall ship.

- Do they still sail? - Here, they do sometimes.

It must be from Turkey.

You've got a Volga accent.

It seems to be invincible.

Well, it sounds nice.

Yes...

The minority needs God

because it has already got everything else,

and the majority, because it has got nothing.

Exactly.

Grand Duke Nikolai Mikhailovich to see you.

- Your Highness! - Pleased to greet you.

- What a surprise! - I came to see Lev Nikolayevich.

We're pleased. Thank you.

Lyovochka, look who is here!

Please, come in. I'll be right back.

It's a pleasure. It's a pleasure.

Welcome.

- I hope I'm not disturbing. - Of course not.

- I came to see how you are. - Please have a seat.

Thank you.

You see, I'm fighting.

Maybe I'll get up.

There's no doubt about it now, I think.

Thank you.

We're having a discussion about God here. About who believes what.

It's very interesting.

I would recall Frederick of Prussia in this connection.

He said it very well:

Each should save himself a sa facon, in his own fashion.

And he also said: "Reason it as you will,

but obey."

Though, when he was dying, he had to admit:

"I'm tired of ruling over slaves."

You know...

The so-called great men are extremely controversial.

But they're forgiven that,

as all kind of other foolishness.

Though controversy is not foolishness.

A fool is obstinate, he doesn't know how to contradict.

And Frederick was a strange man.

Yes, legends had been put up about him.

Yes, he had earned the fame of the best king with Germans,

though he couldn't stand them.

He even didn't like Goethe and Wieland.

Yes, I had made it then.

I have to sleep. Tomorrow is a hard day.

Everything should be done as I've decided.

- Good morning, Lev Nikolayevich. - Good morning.

Good morning.

Good morning, good morning.

Please, Lev Nikolayevich.

Twenty is written without 't'.

Well, let them think I was illiterate.

Here, there's the numeral.

Before signing, allow me to ask a question

of legal nature about your will.

Go ahead.

Does this document exactly express your free will?

Yes, it does.

- Have you made it up yourself? - Yes, I've made it up myself.

Please read the text carefully once again,

as this version contains changes you've made.

First, the provision that you concede

the copyright of all your works written before 1881

to Countess Sofia Andreyevna Tolstaya,

has been omitted in this version.

Yes, it has been omitted.

Elsewhere, where it is said

that Vladimir Grigoryevich Chertkov, as before,

shall publish your works, you added the words:

"On the former basis,

that is, not pursuing any mercenary personal ends".

I had to do it so that no one could reproach him

for seeking personal gain.

Vladimir Grigoryevich asked me to give you this pen.

He said you'd be more comfortable with it.

Ah, the reservoir pen. Yes, I remember.

- Must I write "count"? - Well, you may not write it.

May I, Lev Nikolayevich?

Thank you.

What conspirators we are!

Oh, my God...

- Take it. - Yes.

Lyovochka, you forgot again.

We've invited Mister Drankov for today.

He arrived at 2 o'clock with a camera, but you were not here.

We looked for you everywhere.

I'm happy to greet you.

Really, I've absolutely put it out of my mind.

Please, offer your arm to the countess.

Right, that's how we'll film it.

Will you please walk towards me. Movement is everything here.

Please.

Sofia Andreyevna, please.

Have you eaten everything? Good for you.

- Lev Nikolayevich. - I've got some, thank you.

You've finished it?

In 1975 you'll be saying:

"There had been such man, Lev Tolstoy. I ate from the same plate with him."

I think there're no grounds for getting conceited

about being a Christian.

Christianity has nothing special that

any other religion wouldn't have.

In particular, say, Buddhism.

We shouldn't refer to the Gospels so much.

There're many absurdities in it,

and contradictions.

It makes you shiver if you look back

at the history of mankind,

for so many crimes had been perpetrated

in the name of the Gospels.

Olga Aleksandrovna, what's the matter?

You know I'm telling the truth.

For instance, there was such an incident.

Back in 1904,

Sofia Andreyevna

asked to send a constable.

Why tell this? It's not to the point.

Maybe it'll be right to the point now.

They'd sent one. I approach him.

I ask him, "What have you got here, hanging on your side?"

Is it some kind of a knife?"

And he answers solemnly: "Not a knife, it's a chopper."

"What are you going to chop with it? Bread?"

He laughed, "Why bread?"

"Whom, then? A peasant who gives you bread?"

He says, "if need be, I'll chop a peasant alright."

I say, "Would your conscience allow you to chop your brother peasant?"

And he says, "Maybe it won't, but I shall chop anyway."

it's my job."

"Why did you choose such a bad job?" I ask him.

And he says, "Because I'm worth"

no more than 16 rubles a month.

"And for this job I get 32."

This reasoning of his made many things clear to me in the surrounding world.

Take, for instance, Stolypin.

We used to know his father.

And I remember rocking him on my knees.

I guess his conscience didn't allow him to hang people, either.

But he did hang.

And will hang.

And why will he hang? Because it's his job.

But why did he accept that job?

Because he himself is worth, perhaps, even not 16 rubles,

but just a kopeck.

Yet he gets for this job 80 thousand rubles a year.

And they're all like this, these decent people

from the so-called high society.

They're all very nice, have good manners,

as long as it doesn't concern their job.

And when it comes to their job, they're real beasts and hangmen.

I beg your pardon for my harsh words.

Excuse me, Lev Nikolayevich.

But that constable of yours is an ordinary Russian peasant,

and we have a hundred million more like him.

And if we hadn't landowners,

including you, Count,

those peasants would have become completely brutalized.

It frightens me to hear what you're saying, dear Olga Aleksandrovna.

It's frightening.

It's not the peasants who are beasts,

but we landowners,

who rob them and live at their expense.

As for educational intentions and activities,

they're no more than simple indulgence

because of idleness and boredom.

Yes, yes, Olga Aleksandrovna.

I really beg you to excuse me.

How many new and interesting thoughts I came to know today.

There you go, the blind man showed up.

He'll never leave now unless I come out.

- Where're you going, Lyovochka? - To talk to the blind man.

He won't go away until I come out.

Will be sitting here till the end of the world.

I can hear you're here. That's better.

- I guess our argument isn't over. - It'll never be over.

Your Christianity is better than what the priests teach, but it's still a lie.

Your followers are robbers.

And you're the robbers' ataman.

You're all scoundrels, and you are the first among them.

Well, if you believe so, there's no point in dissuading you.

But how things really are, it's not for you and me to decide.

Life will show, time will tell.

Time, time... Don't blame everything on time.

Everything's clear, as it is.

Lyovochka, it's embarrassing. Why this demonstration?

Filipp, take him to the station. Go on!

Gee up, go!

You'll remember my words! Scoundrels you all!

I'm sorry, my dear.

Drink it.

I don't want to drink anymore.

Whatever I may say to him, he sticks to the same.

The robbers' ataman and a scoundrel.

Why talk to him? Everybody knows he's mad.

But it's interesting and useful to me.

You can hear the truth only from madmen and children.

You'll never hear it from grownups, the so-called normal people.

Come on, finish it.

I envy her. She will live in another era.

What another era?

- When they abolish land property. - That will not happen soon.

It will happen soon. I know it'll be soon.

And how will it be? According to George?

Maybe according to George, maybe they'll find their own way.

We have enough of our own Georges now.

Yes, more than enough.

I got an article to comment on from a Polilov.

Very well written, clearly, in-depth,

with an excellent knowledge of the subject.

I sent him a letter, thanking him.

Thank you very much, Countess.

- Why are you leaving before dessert? - Thank you very much.

I have to catch the train.

- Can you order a carriage harnessed? - Yes, of course.

Au revoir, Olga Aleksandrovna.

Dad, did you really like Polilov's article?

Of course I did, I said so. Do you know him?

- Yes. - Who is he?

You know, it's a pen name. Polilov is a woman.

No.

- It' true. - It can't be.

A woman very close to you.

- No. - Yes.

- Who is it? - Me.

Here's your letter. I know it by heart.

And where's Polilov? I already pictured him so vividly.

A lean man in a blue jacket.

They're kissing.

She sat down.

Oh, she waved her hand.

They're gone.

She hurried off to report it to the whole neighborhood.

Good riddance.

And Mother began arguing with peasants again.

I told you already that I'm not going to change anything.

I have no right to do it either by people's law or by God's.

We've already notified the court.

By God's law it would be right to pardon us,

Countess, it would be only fair.

It isn't from fat life, want makes us do it.

You're taking a sin upon your soul, Andron.

What want are you talking about?

We share everything with you, but it's never enough for you.

- You just have to steal. - We didn't steal anything.

We just took three trunks. Will you get any poorer for it?

I've noticed it about you long ago. You've got no shame at all.

No, don't even ask, let the court decide.

Oh, Lev Nikolayevich...

it's all right, it's all right.

Those members of the State Council,

who tirelessly talk about the people's welfare,

will be well served to know

what people in Russia think about some urgent issues.

It's not the point.

I'm used to repairing, not sparing either my health or pride,

the relations which you immediately topple over.

- What are you talking about? - Peasants, Lyovochka. Peasants.

They have completely got out of hand, and not without your interference.

There's nothing sacred for them.

And when it comes to robbing, you look good and kind,

and I'm a stingy person.

But it's all fine for you, just not resist evil.

It's not evil! Misfortune and poverty. You ought to see the difference.

You and Chertkov saw the difference. He's ready to put me in the poorhouse.

What does Chertkov have to do with it?

A lot!

I'm neither blind nor deaf. I see everything.

Tanya, bring me the drops!

I'm so tired.

My poor girl!

Sofia Andreyevna.

You're a reasonable person. How are we supposed to take it?

Sofia Andreyevna, this is not the way. You have to understand.

Your concern is the family, his concern is the mankind.

It's beyond my understanding.

Unless you understand it, it will go on and on.

I can't understand it.

I can't sacrifice my family. I can't! I can't! I can't!

Take some more.

Rousseau once wrote:

"Anger and malice

are the sign of impotence."

How true it is!

How true!

End of Part One

Part Two DEPARTURE

Good evening.

Good evening.

Good evening.

Thank you.

You got soaked through.

- This way you could catch a cold. - No, it's all right.

I'll have to go soon anyway.

Why so soon? No, you must get dry here.

And spend the night with us. Then, in the morning, we'll see.

No, I have to get to Tula by all means.

I've seen you, and that's good.

I see you're well, and I'm feeling much better, too.

Thank you, my dear.

All right.

Then we'll do it this way.

Andrei, you were planning to go to Tula, weren't you?

Can you give Leonid Vasilyevich a ride in your carriage?

Yes, sir.

Only right now.

I won't be holding you.

No, finish your tea first. There's no hurry, you got time.

Tell me, please...

do you...

really believe in all these father's...

For heaven's sake, Andrei Lvovich!

For heaven's sake. What are you saying? He is a prophet!

Prophet!

Yes...

What if I play the gramophone? A Panina.

Yes, play it.

The night was breathing with voluptuous intimation,

The moon of obscure thoughts sailed yonder.

I waited for you with such a madly passion,

I waited for you, and melted by the window.

I decorated our place with flowers...

Sasha, it's too loud.

I can't make it lower, it's the way she sings.

All right, I'll stop it.

Yes...

I think that Vladimir Grigoryevich

wants to build a house closer to ours.

He wants to live next to you.

Yes, but the proximity to me may turn out most distant,

and I'm afraid it'll happen soon.

Chertkov is convinced that he'll die before you.

Who can know it?

Why, though?

Thinking about death is a very important thing.

Though it doesn't seem a good time for the young to do it.

There's a big contradiction in it, with too much health and joie de vivre.

Take Sasha. Just try and make her think about death.

The thought of death

ejects from her like a cork,

which you try to insert in something resilient.

So this is your move.

Aleksandr Borisovich, my dear, you should play more carefully.

Checkmate.

How can I be more careful when you're saying such things?

What things am I saying? Only the truth.

Lyovochka.

What?

I couldn't sleep the other night.

I have reviewed my entire life, even got tired of remembrances.

By dawn I thought: It will come soon.

And I seemed to feel much better.

Going back home...

Lyovochka.

What?

Not eaten yesterday, not eaten today.

Yes?

Something happened?

I decided to leave. Will you go with me?

Of course I will. But where?

I'll tell you later. If you go, get ready.

Don't pack many things.

Then come up to my room.

Only don't wake up Sofia Andreyevna, I beg you.

My departure will distress you. I'm sorry.

But try to understand, and believe me, I can't do otherwise.

My staying in this house is becoming unbearable for me.

Apart from other things,

I can't go on living in the conditions of luxury, as I had lived before.

And I'm doing what old men of my age usually do:

Leaving the worldly life

to live out in solitude and peace

their final days.

Please, understand it,

and don't come to get me if you find out where I am.

Your coming will only worsen your and my situation,

yet it will not change my decision.

Thank you for living with me honestly for 48 years,

and please forgive me for everything I was guilty of against you,

as I am forgiving you with all my heart

for everything you might have been guilty of against me.

Andrian Pavlovich.

Andrian Pavlovich.

Get up, dear. We got to go.

When?

We have to go right now.

Yes, dear.

- Where're you going? - Go on, sleep.

- You've lost your hat. - Yes, I have.

- This one will be just right. - Thank you, my dear, for your care.

Well, let's get in the carriage.

I wonder how Sofia Andreyevna is now.

I pity her.

But I couldn't stay there any longer.

Last night she came again, looking for something.

Oh, I should have done it long ago!

- What's your name? - Vadik.

Vadik. And where's your mother?

She went to the station to buy tickets.

- And you stayed to watch your things? - Yes.

It's good you're helping your mother.

Here comes the train. Your mother will come now, too.

But I'm wondering where our Dushan Petrovich is.

Lev Nikolayevich, this is our train.

Yes, yes.

Carry this suitcase, please.

Thank you.

Well, goodbye.

- Goodbye, grandfather. - Take care.

- Second car. - Yes, yes.

Here we are.

I'm going to raise the berth, and you can lie down.

No, don't raise it. Why?

I'm not lying down, I don't want to. Thank you, my dear.

Dushan Petrovich, you shouldn't fuss so much, my dear.

I invited you not for this.

Only if I get ill there...

This will make you warm.

It's quite warm here.

I've been observing you for many years,

and it never stopped to amaze me what a kind man you are,

my dear Dushan Petrovich.

It's only in Slovakia that such men are born.

Come on, Lev Nikolayevich.

Yes, of course, - you, Shkarvan...

No, I don't think so.

There're different people everywhere, and in Slovakia, too.

There're different people everywhere.

What if I get up now and go to the end of the car,

sit there for a while and get some fresh air.

I think I'll go, while the train is standing.

Look, isn't it Count Tolstoy?

Where?

- Hello. - Hello.

Hello.

- How are you, Lev Nikolayevich. - Hello.

How lucky we are!

When I tell my wife I rode with Lev Nikolayevich, she won't believe me.

What so special about it? We're all equal before God.

We're all people, all humans.

Allow me to introduce myself, as long as we got that chance.

Gustav Yanovich Pavuls, land-surveyor.

Pleased to meet you. And how should I address you, Miss?

Tanya.

I'm studying in high school, the final year.

What do you plan to do next?

I'll continue studying.

I'll try to enroll in the Bestuzhev courses.

May I ask where are you from?

- Me? - Yes.

From Dudinshchina, that's near Tula.

I'm a carrier now.

In this business you see a lot and hear a lot.

So you've abandoned your land, left it for good?

Our land is no good. Loamy soil. You can't get anything from it.

Anyway.

- There's not much joy in town either. - That's right.

Lots of stealing and drunkenness.

Even more than in the village.

They drink so much vodka!

They drink on their own money.

What business is that of yours?

Better think of not becoming a drunkard yourself, and don't reproach others.

Everyone lives his own way.

I wouldn't have left if not for a grudge.

I left because of a grudge.

What grudge?

It's about the timber.

Surveyors like him here fixed a boundary.

So we felled trees exactly up to the boundary.

There comes the landowner,

bringing an action for an execution, claiming we touched his forest.

They began to look, to measure.

So many people had come.

Surveyors, zemstvo people, and so on.

They say we felled it right, but the landowner says 'no'.

What's the landowner's name?

Bobrovnikov, that's his name.

They're all alike, God save us from their kind.

They were hashing and rehashing it. Of course, he won.

And we got an execution.

Yes, you can't help it by force.

Any force is inevitable to generate a counterforce.

An execution. What a word they've chosen.

A simple law comes into action here.

A human being can give birth only to a human being,

a mouse - only to a mouse,

good - only to good,

and evil - only to evil.

It's simple, but people won't understand it.

It would be too good if it were so.

But I'll tell you, good can also give birth to evil.

I don't have to go far for an example.

My son grew up now.

At first I didn't notice anything, then I saw him begin going astray.

And whatever he may do, his mother covered up for him.

Well, I wanted to belt him.

But she hung on my hand: "No, better teach him by good."

There's good for you.

We've raised a real robber.

Thank God I came to my senses just in time, before he made us beggars.

I showed him the door, saying I won't let him in

as long as I live.

Now I'm only thinking of what mischief he might do next -

either burn down the house or become a highway robber.

And where did it all come from? All this came from good.

You see, you didn't agree with me, but it turns out I was right.

How come?

You've done wrong to him, and now you expect wrong from him.

Perhaps you should better have looked at yourself?

Maybe you're not without a sin either?

And who is?

But there's a limit to everything.

You mean one can sin, but to a limit?

Yes, we've heard all that.

Fast, receive communion, and sin again, right?

Look how far he's gone.

I guess he lived in the woods and prayed to the wheel,

but as soon as he stepped into town, he already doubts God.

No, he does not doubt God.

He's seeking the truth.

- The truth? - Yes.

And where's it, the truth? Who's ever seen it, this truth?

What is the truth?

The truth?

Gentlemen, what's the matter? What's happened?

What happened, gentlemen?

The truth is that God has put

in every man both good and evil.

And He commanded us

to work tirelessly

for good to win over evil.

Everybody can do that work.

Fighting evil, taking over it by the power of good.

But we hurry up to take power over others,

forgetting about ourselves.

Through its social structure, the mankind

tries to perfect the world, to make it better,

to make it more just.

But yet it forgets about the most important thing,

that life is made up by people, by each person individually.

So each person, each human being

is to become better, has to work on himself,

fight the evil in him, perfect himself.

Then life and society will get more perfect, too. It's so simple.

I think so, too. I can believe in it, but my brother says...

What does he say?

While you're perfecting yourself,

the tsar, generals and gendarmes will hang all clever people.

And if you get clever, they'll hang you, too.

What do we do?

I've heard all that.

I can't add anything to what I've said.

So I've been thinking that maybe science...

What about science?

Maybe science will be able to overcome the people's ignorance,

make them horrified at themselves, and teach them to live differently.

Science gives us little hope.

It's too closed in on itself.

How can we do without science? You can't live without it today.

Take this train, or an electric flashlight. It's all science.

It would be good if it ended with the flashlight.

But next to the flashlight goes the machine gun.

Whatever they make up

or invent, they want to turn everything to the detriment of people.

They've invented an airplane recently,

and they're already thinking what vile thing they can drop on mankind's heads.

That's how things stand.

So I think that the more progress this science makes, the more

people have to unite in order to fight it.

The year before last they invited me

to Stockholm, to a peace congress.

I was already about to go, even jotted down a speech.

But they didn't let me go.

Where're you going, they say, you old man? Stay home.

Why? I'm riding now.

I feel good. We're talking.

Only people smoke too much.

Stop smoking! Can't you control yourselves?

It's a smoking car. It's written so over there.

They promised to couple a non-smoking one, but they didn't.

It's all right, we'll get to Optina and rest there.

Let's knock. Maybe they'll let us in.

But it's a hotel.

- Good evening. - Good evening.

We'd like to spend a day or two at your place.

You're welcome.

Only I want to warn you.

I'm Lev Tolstoy. Perhaps you won't like it.

Any guest is welcome here. Please, come in.

Thank you.

- He's inviting us. - Good evening.

- Good evening. - Good evening.

These two rooms are yours. Please.

All right...

Good.

Warm.

Let me help you.

Thank you. But I already got used to doing it myself.

Yes. Thank you.

Well...

Please...

I'd like to have an inkpot here, too.

Father Mikhail, excuse me, may I speak to you for a minute?

Take a seat, please.

Sit down.

I'd like to ask you something, but if you don't want, you may not answer.

What brought you into the monastery?

Life has brought me.

Ah, yes, yes, life...

Lev Nikolayevich?

- How are you, Lev Nikolayevich. - How do you do.

Oh, I didn't recognize you!

I'm here on a special mission at the request of your family.

When did you arrive?

In the middle of the night. I didn't want to disturb you.

Go upstairs. Room 4.

Wait for me there. I'll be right up.

So it has begun.

As long as you're here, there's some work for you.

Thank you.

All right, come here, take a seat.

Copy this scribbling of mine.

Here's paper.

And here's an article about capital punishment.

So, you have...

come to talk me into going back?

L...

I can't do that.

I want to live freely.

If I wish, I can stay in the monastery,

if I wish to go to the Caucasus, I'll go to the Caucasus.

But to endure what I had to in the last years,

I cannot and I don't want.

So excuse me, for God's sake.

That's how things are.

Oh, I see you're absolutely exhausted.

I guess you haven't slept all night?

All right, have a rest. Put all this aside.

You can copy it later.

Thank you. I think I'd better be going.

Yes, go. Go.

Well, Father Mikhail,

I'd like to thank you for your hospitality.

Have a good journey, Lev Nikolayevich.

- It was a pleasure meeting you. - For me, too.

Well, while they're loading and getting ready,

I'll take a little walk.

Lyovochka!

What a joy God has sent us! My dear!

- Mashenka, my dear! - Lyovochka!

We'll be seeing a lot of each other now.

I've come to you for good. I want to live with you.

I have left Yasnaya.

It's all right, then. Let it be as it is.

If you did it, it means you had to.

I had to, Mashenka.

There're some good people with me.

Dushan Petrovich, my dear man. Alyosha.

Hello. Welcome.

Come on in, Lyovochka.

- Come in, why stand here? - Please.

Come in, Lyovochka.

Yes...

- How could you decide to leave? - Well, I did...

Well, God be with you. Come, sit down.

I decided.

How good it is here.

Cozy.

Alyosha! Just a minute.

Why are you standing? Come in.

- I'm going back now. - Ah, yes, yes. So...

So you're going?

Tell them I'm very well off here.

Such sympathy from my sister! I couldn't even expect it.

Let's go to the hotel.

- Good day. - Hello.

Are you from these parts, dear man?

I am.

Could you tell me where I can rent an apartment?

Are you with family?

No, just me and my friend.

You'd be better off in the monastery, it's cleaner there and...

But we want to live in the village. I'm planning to stay for long.

Then maybe at Marfa's. A widow here, she's renting.

Can you show me the way?

Why not? Come on, I'll show you.

Thank you, thank you, let's go.

Marfa, I've found you a tenant.

Come in.

- Good day. - Welcome.

Look at this room.

And how much do you want for it?

Three rubles.

Three rubles. Well, I can pay three rubles.

I'll come with my friend on Sunday.

- Please come. - Thank you.

- Goodbye. - Good health to you.

You see, we had to sort it out.

He didn't want anyone to know.

People said all kinds of things. Some knew, but they wouldn't say.

Others didn't know, but made things up.

We had lots of adventure. There was such an incident in Kozelsk.

Dad!

What? Is it Lev Nikolayevich?

They've found the runaway.

Oh, my coat got very heavy.

Please come in.

There we are.

What an honor.

- Good afternoon, Lev Nikolayevich. - Good afternoon.

Aren't you tired of chasing me?

Don't worry about us. How are you, Lev Nikolayevich?

Me? Fine. I'm fine.

Can I be not fine at Masha's?

- Dad, we were just saying... - What were you saying?

If you want to live alone, you can't stay here.

So?

Perhaps you'd better go abroad?

No, not this.

All right, all right.

Not necessarily abroad.

There're a lot of places here where you can be alone.

In a village.

It may be somewhere far away, but in a village.

No one will recognize me there.

An old man living alone. There're many like me.

Oh, dad!

Yes, yes, so many of them like you.

Well, aren't there?

Actually, I've never liked to plan ahead.

Everything will be all right.

I decided to go to the Caucasus. Decided to go to the Caucasus.

That's fine.

Only we're pressed for time. The train leaves at 9 a.m.

There's a bad situation with horses. I made inquiries.

We have only a cart.

The carriage is broken, it won't get us to the station.

Let's go in the cart. We'll go in the cart, and that's it.

Make arrangements, my dear.

We'll go in the cart, and that's it.

That's it.

That's it.

Stop! Wait!

That's them, the cart and the hotel's horse.

He has gone without saying goodbye.

I shouldn't have let him go to the hotel.

He got that idea of going to the Caucasus during the night.

Barely an hour passed, and he's gone. Try and catch up with him now.

Though I'm happy for him.

If it's Caucasus, let it be Caucasus. Let it be as it is.

Well, Lev Tolstoy has performed his heroic deed after all.

He has left Yasnaya Polyana.

At 82 people perform even more heroic deeds.

The countess tried to drown herself, but they saved her.

I guess she tried to drown knowing she would be saved.

Here I am.

I was already afraid that you had fallen behind.

No.

Yes. Well, then...

We'll put it here.

There you go.

Well.

- Won't you be cold? - No, it's warm here.

All right...

Lie down, Lev Nikolayevich.

Well, I think I better...

And I'll cover you.

Excuse me.

It's all right.

I think I can lie down now.

- Are you comfortable? - Yes, I am.

- Is it good? - Yes, good.

Only I suddenly felt hungry.

Just a minute.

No, don't do anything, don't worry.

I'll get something.

No, don't bother.

Excuse me, but Count Tolstoy cannot eat at the station, he's a vegetarian.

Can I prepare something for him here?

Of course, we'd be only glad, but we don't have anything.

- I've got everything. - Then you're welcome to.

All right, everything's ready.

Oh, what an aroma!

Yes...

I dozed off for a minute,

and I dreamed of the Caucasus, I've been in the Caucasus.

Excuse me, please.

I saw grandfather Yeroshka.

Yeroshka. I wrote about him in "The Cossacks".

A very interesting man he was, a curious man, that Yeroshka.

Whenever I sat down to write,

he looked at me and said, "Give it up, nothing will come out of it anyway."

He thought I was writing a petition to the tsar. "Give it up, " he said.

Yes, grandfather Yeroshka...

Oh, it smells so delicious! Just great!

And it tastes delicious!

- Some bread? - Yes.

Please.

Thank you.

One more piece.

What? You didn't like it?

Oh, it's delicious! Only I feel cold.

Somewhere here.

- A little bit cold. - Where do you feel cold?

Right here.

Let me give you a rubbing.

Here. Right here.

- Here? - Yes.

Let's have your temperature taken.

Maybe we shouldn't?

Yes, we should.

Well, if you think so, let's do it.

We may as well.

There you go.

It's all right, it's all right.

You caught a little cold. You had too much walking yesterday.

- It's a normal thing. - Yes, probably.

You're used to it.

I think I'll have a little bit more. It's so delicious.

Shall we look up?

It's too soon yet.

If there's a fever, it'll show. If there's not, it won't.

- If you want to, we can look. - Let's do it.

- What is it? - Just a bit too high.

I'll bring you hot tea.

Tea... will be good.

Tea, yes...

Can you tell me where the hospital is? At what station?

Did the count get sick?

He seems to have caught a cold.

There'll be an outpatient's clinic right now, in Astapovo.

We'll have to get off here.

I've consulted with some people...

it seems that we'd better get off at the Astapovo station.

They have an outpatient's clinic there.

You'll have a little rest,

and tomorrow we'll go by a train like this.

Then you must get dressed, the train is arriving already.

Let's get dressed.

ASTAPOVO

Count Tolstoy got ill. Tell the stationmaster.

Careful, Lev Nikolayevich.

Careful, Your Excellency.

Take the count's luggage.

Yes, these suitcases, please.

Can it be Count Lev Nikolayevich Tosltoy?

Good God, how old he is!

Where's he going at his age? They say he's 82.

Still looking for God.

He doesn't believe in God, he lives without God.

No, he has his own God.

What do you mean, his own God?

Conscience. Like God is your conscience.

Yes, you can't live without conscience, right...

You can't live without conscience? One can live only without conscience.

I'll go speak to the stationmaster.

Get well, Your Excellency.

- Thank you, thank you, my dear. - Get well.

Astapovo...

Allow me to introduce myself. Ozolin, the stationmaster.

Please, let's go to this room.

You'll be more comfortable there. This way, please.

Lev Nikolayevich?

Got a little ill on the way.

My God. Children, go to the refreshment room and sit at the table.

Can I help you in any way? Shall I send a telegram?

Don't worry, Madame. We'll do everything.

- I wish you all the best... - Thank you, my dear.

Take a seat. You won't be here for long.

We'll prepare a room for you in my apartment.

Thank you, but we don't want to be a burden to you.

What are you saying? We'll be only honored.

The important thing is that you get well as soon as possible.

Thank you. Oh, it's throbbing right here now.

I'll be right back.

Just a minute.

Everything is ready.

- Good afternoon. - Good afternoon.

Let me take it.

Careful, watch your step. There we go.

Please.

- Come on in. - Thank you.

I'll put a hot-water bottle.

It's important your feet should be warm.

That's right.

Oh, we've given you so much trouble, Ivan Ivanovich.

Not at all, Lev Nikolayevich.

Please get well and don't think about anything.

I hope I won't be here for long.

Just look what a fine bed.

Now you have to lie down and rest.

Well, if I have to lie down,

Dushan Petrovich, maybe we'll make it just like at home?

So that in case some thought occurs to me, I could write it down.

Yes.

Oh, you've arranged it so well!

The box.

I was afraid you forgot it.

No.

It's good you remembered.

It's you who didn't forget this box, you took it.

Really?

There's so much in here.

There're some ideas here, too.

I haven't finished that article on socialism.

It would have been so useful now.

They're groping so close to it.

But they don't say it...

it's true.

The clock.

The box.

Good.

If I weren't ill, it would even be perfect.

I would wish nothing more.

- Only not a word to anyone. - I understand.

What are you writing?

That I have arrived.

Oh, it's very important.

What's the news?

I'm here about something else. There's no news.

I only know he's alive. Doctor Makovitsky has all the details.

Aleksandra Lvovna has arrived.

- What's this? - It's not for you.

It's an outright Russian barbarity.

Yes.

How can they hide Tolstoy when the whole world keeps vigil by his bed?

How are you, Mister Orlov. You're already here, of course.

I was on the same train with him.

Really?

Yes. But now I can't get a straight answer.

Sure, everything is wrapped in mystery.

Let's go to the refreshment room.

Do they serve tea in this Astapovo?

Express telegram.

Transmit it.

Yasenki, Moscow Region.

To Chertkov, for Tatyana.

Write out a receipt for 20 words. 21 words.

All right.

Transmit it.

Tanya! Tanechka!

Forty-eight years!

Forty-eight!

Who is Orlov here?

Thank God. I'm Orlov.

It's for you.

When we have nothing to write to them, they're writing to us.

"The center of gravity now is Lev Nikolayevich's health.

Stay there until further notice from the editorial office."

Just look how many useful instructions here.

"Keep the editors posted at all time. Best regards. Biron."

The great Biron!

I think it's just the right time for a drink.

Well, if only the Zubrovka vodka. Pour us some.

May we ask you, period.

Inform us, period.

At Moika 91, comma,

about Tolstoy's health, period.

You should bear in mind, comma,

the inquiries on Tolstoy's situation

come from various countries, period.

Show this telegram to Countess or Doctor Makovitsky, period.

Member of State Council Stakhovich.

This is for you.

So many telegrams, we're piled up. We need help.

We'll ask for it.

Astapovo, Ryazan-Urals Railroad.

To Konstantin Orlov, period.

Countess is on her way to Astapovo by express train, period.

Russkoye Slovo, period.

I came in a light coat...

Mister Orlov, an express telegram for you.

Sign here, please.

Thank you.

What is it?

It's personal.

Well, let's have a drink against a cold.

I guess we'll have to sleep on chairs.

- Hello. - Hello.

We can't wait to hear what you have to tell us.

Almost everything I could tell you on this subject

has been published in Russkiye Vedomosti.

As for Lev Nikolayevich's condition,

you know more about it than I.

Vladimir Grigoryevich. Ozolin, the stationmaster.

How do you do.

Please. I'm sorry, I am...

Excuse me, gentlemen.

How are you, Doctor.

Hello, Vladimir Grigoryevich.

I'm happy to see you.

How are you, Lev Nikolayevich?

Oh, come on.

You better sit, sit down.

I'm really happy to see you.

Have you brought newspapers?

- Yes. - What do they write in newspapers?

Only about you.

Though, there's my letter here, too.

That's interesting.

Yes...

it's very good that you've written it.

Only it's hard for me to read.

Oh, I got no good at all...

Now, now, Lev Nikolayevich.

You shouldn't...

What? Are we arriving?

Yes.

There, they're already coming.

- Good evening, Sergey Lvovich. - Good evening, gentlemen.

The countess doesn't feel well, she can't receive anybody.

I'm at your service, only I'm afraid

I won't be able to tell you anything new.

Excuse me, gentlemen.

Of course, what else could we expect?

- Where're you going, Maman? - Why do you ask?

Maman, I want you to understand me.

We must not do it.

His life is hanging by a thread.

Any new excitement may prove fatal.

What are you talking about? We've lived through such a life.

To be so near him now, and not to be with him?

What are you talking about?

Maman, I thought it over very well before saying it.

It's not our decision.

The doctors made that condition

when we informed them of our arrival.

Even if he wishes to see us,

even then we ought to be very careful.

Dushan Petrovich is here.

Dushan Petrovich?

Good evening.

I have to speak to Sofia Andreyevna.

How could you?

Why didn't you wake me up?

Sofia Andreyevna, I couldn't do it

because he had decided so.

Oh, he decided and changed his mind again and again.

No, this time it was his final decision.

Final.

And this is what we've got.

What wrong have I done him?

I simply wanted to read that damned paper.

A great sin!

What a shame!

Maman, please don't, I beg you.

No, I must go to him and explain everything.

No, it's impossible. It's going to kill him.

Where's my coat? Where did you hide my coat?

Ah, you're all against me.

Maman, Maman...

There you go...

and the tea.

Ours are here.

Is Tanya here, too?

Yes, Tatyana Lvovna is here, too.

I would like to see her. Can she come here?

Yes.

Let her come now. I want to see her very much.

I want to ask her how Sofia Andreyevna is.

And I want to know how she herself got here.

I think she told them she was going to her family,

but she came here instead.

Yes, that's most likely.

- I'll call her. - Yes, call her.

Oh, my darling!

How are you?

How is Maman?

Don't worry, her sons are with Maman, a doctor, a nurse.

But how is she?

She's holding on.

Do we have to talk about this now?

What else do we have to talk about, if not this?

Just a minute...

Just a minute...

it would be better if he rests now.

Yes, of course.

We should send a telegram there, to Yasnaya.

Something like...

His condition is a little better,

but his heart is so weak

that seeing Maman

would be for me...

for him, for him,

would be ruinous.

Something like that.

He's burning again.

It's always like this.

Now his temperatures falls to normal, now it rises up to 104.

To Konstantin Orlov, period.

Your today's telegrams

have left our competitors far behind.

- A telegram from the brothers. - Read it.

Film the station.

Make a close-up of the name of the station.

Take pictures of the family.

- Where shall I take the champagne? - To the refreshment room.

Leave one bottle here.

Gentlemen, please come in.

Yes!

This way, gentlemen.

Why did the editorial office ask the family, comma,

if Tolstoy was dead, period.

This provoked much displeasure. Yezhov.

Express telegram, period.

Moscow, period. The Early Morning

Myasnitskaya, period.

The Bishop of Tambov, Kirill requested a train car

to Lebedyan Station, comma,

intending to come to Astapovo, period.

Avrekh, period.

An express telegram.

Another express one.

Transmit it.

Kharkov, period.

Yuzhny Krai, urgent, period. Temperature has risen...

Good evening, gentlemen.

Tolstoy is unconscious, delirious, comma,

Metropolitan Antony asks Tolstoy in telegram

to be reconciled with the Church, period.

Tambov Reverend waits at nearest station, period.

Sukonnikov, period.

Give it to me.

Oh, my hand got all numb.

Where do they get all this from?

There you are, help has arrived.

- Take turns every two hours. - All right.

Go and sleep.

Well, what do you have here?

Metropolitan Antony.

"From the very first moment of your rift with the Church"

I have been continuously praying and am still praying

to God to return you into the Church.

Perhaps He will soon call you to His last judgment,

and I'm begging you, an ailing man, to be reconciled now with the Church

and with the Russian orthodox people.

"God bless you and God save you. Metropolitan Antony."

Oh, no...

No.

What? Ls this Varsofony himself?

Yes...

I've been thinking about the publication of "Circle of Reading".

I've already arranged everything with the publishing house.

Good.

And something else...

Remember that English translator? Oh, yes, Maude.

He sent me a letter saying that he wants to donate the money

for the benefit of Yasnaya Polyana's peasants.

Five hundred rubles.

Well, what is there to discuss?

It's a very worthy thing.

Of course, Lev Nikolayevich, I'll answer his letter.

Thank you very much.

I think I'm dying.

No. No.

Though maybe not yet.

Maybe I'll have to work a little more.

Yes.

I have to make an effort.

I think I might go to sleep now.

Yes, it's always good.

Good morning, Pyotr Arkadyevich.

Good morning, Your Majesty.

Well, how are things going there?

Still alive.

- What? - Quiet.

He doesn't feel well.

I'll be right there.

Well, it's good.

I want to dictate.

Only first you have to read

what I have dictated, and you have put down.

So what is it in there? Read it.

You haven't dictated anything yet, Lev Nikolayevich.

I've just come in. It's the middle of the night now.

No! You did dicta...

I was dictating, and you were writing it down.

Or perhaps it was the doctor?

Lev Nikolayevich, the doctor didn't write anything down.

Tell me what you want to be written.

No, no.

I want you to read it, and then we'll continue.

You're such a nice man, why don't you want to read it?

All right, all right, I'll read it.

Please do.

"And I set my heart"

to seek and search out by wisdom concerning

all that is done under heaven.

This burdensome task God has given to the sons of man,

"by which they may be exercised."

And whose thought is that?

It's from the Ecclesiastes, Lev Nikolayevich.

Go on, go on.

"For... he who increases knowledge increases sorrow."

Ah, how well said!

Oh, how well said!

Lev Nikolayevich.

No, I don't need it

I'll go to sleep without it.

I feel tired.

Oh, how well he said...

Urgent, St. Petersburg, The Rech.

His heart is failing.

He's very bad. The family's been awakened and called up.

Urgent, Moscow, The Russkiye Vedomosti.

His heart is failing. He's very bad.

Urgent, Moscow, The Russkiye Vedomosti.

Be ready, period.

Gentlemen!

We're already doing more than possible!

Observe the decencies at least now!

Well, checkmate.

I'm sorry.

That's all.

Taking leave of all one's manifestations...

I want to tell you only one thing...

There're many people in the world

beside Lev Tolstoy,

and you keep looking at only one Lev.

Seryozha...

The truth...

I love many, many...

All...

And I wanted...

Write it down, please. Six o'clock and five minutes.

This is the very place.

I'm telling about the green stick.

This is the very place that Lev Nikolayevich himself

had chosen for his burial.

Where the Tolstoy brothers, when they were children,

buried a green stick.

It was their brother Nikolai who got the idea of a magic stick,

on which precious words

about people's happiness would be inscribed.

Last year in Yasnaya Polyana, I remember it as if it was yesterday,

it was on the 12th of September,

the day appointed for the recruits to be taken to Krapivna.

As is our custom, the whole village was seeing them off.

We were going from house to house.

We came to Vastly Mikheyev's house.

Everybody was sitting at the table, singing songs to the accordion.

Lev Nikolayevich was there, too.

Listening, watching...

And Vastly Mikheyev's daughter-in-law,

who was recently taken from another village,

pulled at his sleeve and said brashly, "Why are you sitting here?

I can't get my stockings from the stove because of you."

Our poor old man, Lev Nikolayevich,

God rest his soul,

got up, excused himself and went out after the recruits.

So he came out...

And he sees Prokofy standing there with a small bundle.

He had in that bundle some stuff for his son.

And Lev Nikolayevich asks him: "Which one is your son?"

Prokofy pointed to his Pyotr.

And Pyotr just started a song.

And they all marched to that song.

And Lev Nikolayevich went along.

He went as far as the village outskirts.

I just can see him marching.

I'm going, I'm going, that is right.

I am leaving my home nest.

And tomorrow I even might say goodbye to my native land...

On your knees!

On your knees, I said!

The End