CZM Book Club: Diary of a Lunatic by Leo Tolstoy

Margaret reads you a story about mental health, panic disorders, and anticapitalism. 

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Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:01):
Cool Zone Media.

Speaker 2 (00:06):
Book Club book Club, book Club, book Club, book Club.

Speaker 3 (00:14):
Hello and welcome to the Cool Zone Media book Club,
the only book club where you don't have to do
the reading because I do it for you. I'm your host,
Margaret Kiljoy, and each week I bring you stories, stories
about what.

Speaker 2 (00:27):
Well, it's different every week. That's the whole idea. It's
not the same story every week. Although if I was
able to read you the same story every week, no,
even I would get bored of That does sound like
it could be easier for me, the harder for everything else. Anyway,

(00:48):
this week I read a lot of Tolstoy to y'all
over the past month or two, and I've gotten a
lot of really positive feedback from that. And don't worry,
this isn't going to become the toll Stoy Cast, but
I am going to do another week of Tolstoy because
people seem to like it, which makes sense. He is
regarded as one of the finest writers in history or whatever.

(01:10):
Although don't get me wrong, I think he's a good writer.
I just you know, the fact that he was a
wealthy white man is I'm very aware of when I
think about who gets held up as the greats. But
that said, he's also really good, and I find him

(01:30):
interesting in terms of book club type stuff, because you know,
was an anarchist and one of the better anarchist fiction
writers to have ever lived. This story is a story
about panic attacks, So if you don't want to read
a story about panic attacks, it doesn't use the word
panic attacks, but it actually it describes them. And it's

(01:54):
called Diary of a Lunatic and it's from nineteen oh three,
and I hope you enjoy it. This morning I underwent
a medical examination in the Government council room. The opinions
of the doctors were divided. They argued among themselves and
came at last to the conclusion that I was not mad.

(02:15):
But this was due to the fact that I tried
hard during the examination not to give myself away. I
was afraid of being sent to the lunatic asylum, where
I would not be able to go on with the
mad undertaking I have on my hands. They pronounced me
subject to fits of excitement and something else too, but
nevertheless of sound mind. The doctors prescribed a certain treatment

(02:39):
and assured me that by following his directions, my trouble
would completely disappear. Imagine all that torments me disappearing completely. Oh,
there is nothing I would not give to be free
from my trouble. The suffering is too great. I am
going to tell explicitly how I came to undergo that examination,
how I went mad, and how my madness was revealed

(03:03):
to the outside world. Up to the age of thirty five,
I lived like the rest of the world, and nobody
had noticed any peculiarities in me. Only in my early childhood,
before I was ten, I had occasionally been in a
mental state similar to the present one, and then only
at intervals, whereas now I am continually conscious of it.

(03:25):
I remember going to bed one evening when I was
a child of five or six. Nurse Euphrasia, a tall,
lean woman in a brown dress with a double chin,
was undressing me and was just lifting me up to
put me into bed. I will get into bed myself,
I said, preparing to step over the net at the bedside.

(03:45):
Lie down, Fadinka, you see Metinka is already lying quite still,
she said, pointing with her head to my brother in
his bed. I jumped into my bed, still holding the
nurse's hand in mine. Then I let it go, stretched
my legs under the blanket and wrapped myself up. I
felt so nice and warm. I grew silent all of

(04:05):
a sudden, and began thinking, I love nurse, Nurse loves me,
and Mitinka. I love Matinka too, and he loves me
and nurse and nurse loves Taras. And I love Tarras too,
and so does Matinka. And Taras loves me, and nurse
and mother loves me, and nurse nurse loves mother and
me and father. Everybody loves everybody, and everybody is happy.

(04:28):
Suddenly the housekeeper rushed in and began to shout in
an angry voice something about a sugar basin she could
not find. Nurse got cross and said she did not
take it. I felt frightened. It was all so strange.
A cold horror came over me, and I hid myself
under the blanket. But I felt no better. In the
darkness under the blanket, I thought of a boy who

(04:49):
had got a thrashing one day in my presence, of
his screams, and of the cruel face Foka made when
he was beating the boy. Then you won't do it anymore,
you won't, he rep and went on beating. I won't,
said the boy, and Folka kept on repeating over and over,
you won't, you won't, and did not cease to strike
the boy. That was when my madness came over me

(05:12):
for the first time. I burst into sobs, and they
could not quiet me for a long while. The tears
and despair of that day were the first signs of
my present trouble. I well remember the second time my
madness seized me. It was when aunt was telling us
about Christ. She told us his story and got up
to leave the room, but we held her back. Tell

(05:33):
us more about Jesus Christ. We said, I must go.
She replied, no, tell us more, please, Matinka insisted, and
she repeated all she had said before. She told us
how they crucified him, how they beat and martyred him,
and how he went on praying and did not blame them. Auntie,
Why did they torture him? They were wicked? Wasn't he God?

(05:57):
Be still? It is nine o'clock. Don't you hear the clock? Strake?
Why did they beat him? He had forgiven them?

Speaker 1 (06:03):
Then?

Speaker 2 (06:03):
Why did they hit him? Did it hurt him, Aunty?
Did it hurt? Be quiet? I say, I am going
to the dining room to have tea now, but perhaps
it never happened. Perhaps he was not beaten by them.
I am going, no, Aunty, don't go. And again my
madness took possession of me. I sobbed, and sobbed, and

(06:24):
began knocking my head against the wall. Such had been
the fits of my madness in my childhood. But after
I was fourteen, from the time the instincts of sex
awoke and I began to give way to vice, my
madness seemed to have passed, and I was a boy
like other boys, just as happens with all of us,

(06:44):
who are brought up on rich over abundant food, and
are spoiled and made effeminate because we never do any
physical work, and are surrounded by all possible temptations which
excite our sensual desire when in the company of other
children similarly spoiled. So I had been taught vice by
other boys of my age, and I indulged in it.
As time passed, other vices came to take the place

(07:06):
of the first. I began to know women, and so
I went on living up to the time I was
thirty five, looking out for all kinds of pleasures and
enjoying them. I had a perfectly sound mind then, and
never a sign of madness. Those twenty years of my
normal life passed without leaving any special record on my memory.
And now it is only with great effort of mind

(07:27):
and with utter disgust, that I can concentrate my thoughts
upon that time. Like all boys of my set who
were of sound mind, I entered school, passed on to
the university, and went through a course of law studies.
Then I entered the State service for a short time,
married and settled down in the country, educating, if our
way of bringing up children can be called educating my children,

(07:51):
looking after the land, and filling the post of a
justice of the peace. It was when I had been
married ten years that one of those attacks acts of
madness I suffered from in my childhood made its appearance again.
My wife and I had saved up money from her
inheritance and from some government bonds of mine which I
had sold, and we decided that with that money we

(08:12):
would buy another estate. I was naturally keen to increase
our fortune, and to do it in the shrewdest way
better than anyone else would manage it. I went about
inquiring what estates were to be sold and used to
read all the advertisements in the papers. What I wanted
was to buy an a state, the produce or timber
of which would cover the cost of purchase, and then

(08:34):
I would have the estate practically for nothing. I was
looking out for a fool who did not understand business,
and there came a day when I thought I had
found one. In a state with large forests attached to
it was to be sold in the pensa government. To
judge by the information I had received, the proprietor of
the state was exactly the imbecile I wanted, and I

(08:56):
might expect the forests to cover the price asked for
the whole estate. I got my things ready and was
soon on my way to the estate I wished to inspect.
We had first to go by train. I had taken
my manservant with me, then by coach, with relays of
horses at various stations. The journey was very pleasant, and

(09:16):
my servant, a good natured youth, liked it as much
as I did. We enjoyed the new surroundings and the
new people. Having now only about two hundred miles more
to drive, we decided to go on without stopping except
to change horses at stations. Night came on and we
were still driving. I had been dozing, but presently I awoke,

(09:37):
seized with a sudden fear, as often happens in such
a case. I was so excited that I was thoroughly awake,
and it seemed as if sleep were gone forever. Why
am I driving? Where am I going? I suddenly asked myself.
It was not that I disliked the idea of buying
an estate at a bargain, but it seemed at that
moment so senseless a journey to such a faraway place,

(09:59):
and as if I were going to die there away
from home. I was overcome with terror. My servant, Sergius, awoke,
and I took advantage of the fact to talk to him.
I began to remark upon the scenery around us. He
had also a good deal to say of the people
at home, of the pleasure of the journey, and it

(10:20):
seemed strange to me that he could talk so gaily.
He appeared so pleased with everything and in such good spirits,
whereas I was annoyed with it all. Still, I felt
more at ease when I was talking with him, along
with my feelings of restlessness and my secret horror. However,
I was fatigued as well, and longed to break the

(10:40):
journey somewhere. It seemed to me my uneasiness would cease
if only I could enter a room have tea in
what I desired most of all, sleep. We were approaching
the town Arzamas. Don't you think we had better stop
here and have a rest? Why not? It's an excellent ida.

(11:00):
How far are we from the town, I asked the
driver another seven miles. The driver was a quiet, silent man.
He was driving rather slowly and wearily. We drove on.
I was silent, but I felt better, looking forward to
a rest and hoping to feel the better for it.
We drove on and on in the darkness, and the

(11:22):
seven miles seemed to have no end. At last we
reached the town. It was sound asleep in that early hour.
First came the small houses, piercing the darkness, and as
we passed them, the noise of our jingling bells and
trotting of our horses seemed louder. In a few places
the houses were large and white, but I did not
feel less dejected for seeing them. I was waiting for

(11:44):
the station and the Samovar, and longed to lie down
and rest. At last, we approached a house with pillars
in front of it. The house was white, but it
seemed to me to be very melancholy. I felt even
frightened at its aspect, and stepped slowly out of the carriage.
Sergius was busying himself with our luggage, taking what we

(12:05):
needed for the night, running about and stepping heavily on
the doorsteps. The sound of his brisk tread increased my weariness.
I walked in and came into a small passage. A
man received us. He had a large spot on his cheek,
and that spot filled me with horror. He asked us
into a room, which was just an ordinary room. My

(12:27):
uneasiness was growing. Could we have a room to rest in?
I asked, Oh, yes, I have a very nice bedroom
at your disposal, a square room, newly whitewashed. The fact
of the little room being square was, I remember it
so well most painful to me. It had one window

(12:47):
with a red curtain, a table of birchwood, and a
sofa with a curved back and arms. Sergius boiled the
water in the samovar and made us tea. I put
a pillow on the sofa in the meantime and lay down.
I was not asleep. I heard Sergey as busy with
the samovar and urging me to have the tea. I
was afraid to get up from the sofa, afraid of

(13:09):
driving away sleep, and just to be sitting in that
room seemed awful. I did not get up, but fell
into a sort of doze. When I started up out
of it, nobody was in the room and it was
quite dark. I woke up the very same sensation I
had the first time, and knew sleep was gone. Why
am I here? Where am I going? Just as I am?

(13:33):
I must be forever. Neither the Pensa nor any other
estate will add or take anything away from me. As
for me, I am unbearably weary of myself. I want
to go to sleep, to forget, and I cannot. I
cannot get rid of self, just like we can't get
rid of these advertisers. And we're back. I went out

(14:10):
into the passage. Sergius was sleeping there on a narrow bench,
his hand hanging down beside it. He was sleeping soundly,
and the man with the spot on his cheek was
also asleep. I thought by going out of the room
to get away from what was tormenting me, But it
followed me and made everything seem dark and dreary. My

(14:31):
feeling of horror, instead of leaving me, was increasing. What nonsense,
I said to myself, Why am I so dejected? What
am I afraid of? You are afraid of me? I
heard the voice of death. I am here, I shuddered, Yes, death,

(14:51):
death will come. It will come, and ought not to come.
Even in facing actual death, I would certainly not feel
anything of what I feel now. Then it would be
simply fear, whereas now it was more than that. I
was actually seen feeling the approach of death, and along
with it I felt that death ought not to exist.

(15:12):
My entire being was conscious of the necessity of the
right to live and at the same time of the
inevitability of dying. This inner conflict was causing me unbearable pain.
I tried to shake off the horror. I found a
half burnt candle in a brass candlestick and lighted it.
The candle with its red flame, burnt down until it
was not much taller than the low candlestick. The same

(15:35):
thing seemed to be repeated over and over. Nothing lasts.
Life is not all is death, but death ought not
to exist. I tried to turn my thoughts to what
had interested me before, to the estate I was to buy,
and to my wife. Far from being a relief, there
seemed nothing to me now. To feel my life doomed

(15:56):
to be taken from me was a terror, shutting out
any other thought. I must try to sleep, I decided.
I went to bed, But the next instant I jumped up,
seized with horror. A sickness overcame me, a spiritual sickness,
not unlike the physical uneasiness preceding actual illness, but in
the spirit, not in the body. A terrible fear similar

(16:20):
to the fear of death. When mingled with the recollections
of my past life, developed into a horror, as if
life were departing. Life and death were flowing into one another.
An unknown power was trying to tear my soul into pieces,
but could not bend it. Once more, I went out
into the passage to look at the two men asleep.
Once more, I tried to go to sleep. The horror

(16:43):
was always the same, now red, now white and square.
Something was tearing within, but could not be torn apart.
A torturing sensation, an arid hatred deprived me of every
spark of kindly feeling, dull and steady hatred against myself
and against that which had created me. What did create me?

Speaker 1 (17:07):
God?

Speaker 2 (17:08):
We say, God? What if I tried to pray? I
suddenly thought I had not said a prayer for more
than twenty years and had no religious sentiment. Although just
for formality's sake, I fasted and partook of the communion
every year, and began saying prayers, God forgive me, our Father,
our lady. I was composing new prayers, crossing myself, bowing

(17:32):
to the earth, looking around me, all the while, for
fear I might be discovered in my devotional attitude. The
prayer seemed to divert my thoughts from the previous terror,
but it was more the fear of being seen by
somebody that did it. I went to bed again, but
the moment I shut my eyes, the very same feeling
of terror made me jump up. I could not stand
it any longer. I called the hotel servant, roused Sergius

(17:55):
from his sleep, ordered him to harness the horses to
the carriage, and we were soon driving on once more.
The open air and the drive made me feel much better,
but I realized that something new had come into my
soul and had poisoned the life I had lived up
to that hour. We reached our destination in the evening.

(18:16):
The whole day long, I remained struggling with despair and
finally conquered it. But a horror remained in the depth
of my soul. It was as if a misfortune had
happened to me, and although I was able to forget
it for a while, it remained at the bottom of
my soul, and I was entirely dominated by it. The
manager of the estate, an old man, received us in

(18:38):
a very friendly manner, though not exactly with a great joy.
He was sorry that the estate was to be sold.
The clean little rooms with upholstered furniture, a new shining
Samovar on the tea table, nice large cups honey served
with the tea. Everything was pleasant to see. I began
questioning him about the estate without any interest, as if

(19:01):
I were repeating a lesson learned long ago and nearly forgotten.
It was so uninteresting, But that night I was able
to go to sleep without feeling miserable. I thought this
was due to having said my prayers again before going
to bed. After that incident, I resumed my ordinary life,

(19:21):
but the apprehension that this horror would again come upon
me was continual. I had to live my usual life
without any respite, not giving way to my thoughts, just
like a schoolboy who repeats by habit and without thinking
the lesson learned by heart. That was the only way
to avoid being seized again by the horror and the
despair I had experienced in Arzamis. I had returned safe

(19:45):
home for my journey. I had not bought the estate,
I had not enough money. My life at home seemed
to be just as it had always been, save for
my having taken to sane prayers into going to church.
But now when I recollect that time, I see that
I only imagined my life to be the same as before.
The fact was I merely continued what I had previously started,

(20:07):
and was running with the same speed on rails already laid.
But I did not undertake anything new, even in those
things which I had already taken in hand. My interest
had diminished. I was tired of everything and was growing
very religious. My wife noticed this and was often vexed
with me for it. No new fit of distress occurred

(20:29):
while I was at home, but one day I had
to go unexpectedly to Moscow, where a lawsuit was pending.
In the train, I entered into conversation with a landowner
from Kharkov. We were talking about the management of estates,
about bank business, about the hotels in Moscow and the theaters.
We both decided to stop at the Moscow Court in

(20:51):
the Mayasankaya Street and go that evening to the opera
to faust. When we arrived, I was shown into a
small room, the heavy smell of the passage being still
in my nostrils. The porter brought in my portmanteau, and
the amid lighted the candle, the flame of which burned
up brightly and then flickered, as it usually does. In

(21:13):
the room next to mine, I heard somebody coughing, probably
an old man. The maid went out, and the porter
asked whether I wished him to open my bag. In
the Meanwhile, the candle flame had flared up, throwing its
light on the blue wallpaper with yellow stripes on the partition,
on the shabby table, on the small sofa in front
of it, on the mirror hanging on the wall and

(21:33):
on the window. I saw what the small room was like,
and suddenly felt the horror of the arazemas night awakening
within me. My God, must I stay here for the night?
How can I? I thought? Will you kindly unfasten my bag?
I said to the porter to keep him longer in
the room, And now I'll dress quickly and go to
the theater, I said to myself. When the bag had

(21:57):
been untied, I said to the porter, please tell the
gentleman in number eight, the one who came with me,
then I shall be ready presently, and ask him to
wait for me. The porter left, and I began to
dress in haste, afraid to look at the walls. But
what nonsense, I said to myself. Why am I frightened
like a child. I am not afraid of ghosts. To

(22:17):
be afraid of ghosts is nothing to what I was
afraid of. But what is it? Absolutely nothing? I am
only afraid of myself. Nonsense. I slipped into a cold, rough,
starched shirt, stuck in the studs, put on evening dress
and new boots, and went to call for the Kharkoff landowner,
who was ready. We started for the opera house. He

(22:40):
stopped on the way to have his hair curled, while
I went to a French hair dresser to have mine cut,
where I talked a little to the frenchwoman in the
shop and bought a new pair of gloves. Everything seemed
all right. I had completely forgotten the oblong room in
the hotel and the walls. I enjoyed the faust performance
very much, and when it was over, my companion proposed

(23:02):
that we should have supper. This was contrary to my habits,
but just at that moment I remembered the walls in
my room and accepted. We returned home after one I
had two glasses of wine, an unusual thing for me,
in spite of which I was feeling quite at ease.
But the moment we entered the passage with the lowered

(23:23):
lamp lighting it, the moment I was surrounded by the
peculiar smell of the hotel, I felt a cold shudder
of horror running down my back. But there was nothing
to be done. I shook hands with my new friend
and stepped into my room. I had a frightful night,
much worse than the night in Arsamis, and it was

(23:44):
not until dawn when the old man in the room
next was coughing again that I fell asleep, and then
not in my bed, but after getting in and out
of it many times on the sofa, I suffered the
whole night unbearably. Once more, my soul and my body
were tearing themselves apart. Within me, the same thoughts came again.

(24:06):
I am living, I have lived up till now. I
have the right to live. But all around me is
death and destruction. Then why live? Why not die? Why
not kill myself immediately?

Speaker 1 (24:16):
No?

Speaker 2 (24:17):
I could not. I am afraid. Is it better to
wait for death to come when it will? No, that
is even worse, and I am also afraid of that.
Then I must live. But for what? In order to die?
I could not get out of that circle. I took
a book and began reading. For a moment it made
me forget my thoughts. But then the same questions and
the same horror came again. I got into bed, lay

(24:40):
down and shut my eyes. That made the horror worse.
God had created things as they are. But why they say,
don't ask pray?

Speaker 1 (24:51):
Well?

Speaker 2 (24:51):
I did pray. I was praying now, just as I
did at Arzamas. At that time I had prayed simply
like a child. Now my prayers had a definite MEAs
if thou exist, reveal thy existence to me? To what
end am I created? What am I? I was bowing
to the earth, repeating all the prayers I knew, composing
new ones, and I was adding each time, reveal thy

(25:15):
existence to me. I became quiet, waiting for an answer,
But no answer came, as if there were nothing to answer.
I was alone, alone with myself and was answering my
own questions in place of him who would not answer.
What am I created for to live in a future life?
I answered? Then, why this uncertainty and torment? I cannot

(25:35):
believe in future life? I did believe when I asked,
but not with my whole soul. Now I cannot cannot.
If thou didst exist, thou wouldst reveal it to me
to all men. But thou dost not exist, And there
is nothing true but distress. But I cannot accept that
I rebelled against it. I implored him to reveal his

(25:56):
existence to me. I did all that everybody does, but
he did not reveal himself to me. Ask and it
shall be given unto you, I remembered, and I began
to entreat. In doing so, I felt no real comfort,
but just sircease of despair. Perhaps it was not entreaty
on my part, but only denial of him. You retreat
a step from him, and he goes from you a mile.

(26:18):
I did not believe in him, and yet here I
was entreating him, but he did not reveal himself. I
was balancing my accounts with him. I was blaming him.
I simply did not believe. But do you know what
you can believe in, dear listener. You can believe that
there are ads in this show. You can't believe anything
about the ads, but you can believe that they're there

(26:41):
unless you have cooler zone media. And then, like our
hero of today's story, you will cry out to the
advertisers and say, prove that thou dost exist. And yet
the advertisers will not answer because you have cooler zone
medium and you don't get to hear them. And we're

(27:10):
back the next day. I used all my endeavors to
get through my affairs somehow during the day in order
to be saved from another night in the hotel room.
Although I had not finished everything. I left for home
in the evening that night at Moscow brought a still
greater change into my life, which had been changing ever
since the night at Arzamis. I was now paying less

(27:32):
attention to my affairs and grew more and more indifferent
to everything around me. My health was also getting bad.
My wife urged me to consult a doctor. To her,
my continual talk about God and religion was a sign
of ill health. Whereas I knew I was ill and
weak because of the unsolved questions of religion and of God.

(27:52):
I was trying not to let that question dominate my
mind and continued living amid the old, unaltered conditions, filling
up my time within cessant occupations. On Sundays and feast days,
I went to church. I even fasted, as I had
begun to do since my journey to Penza, and did
not cease to pray. I had no faith in my prayers,
but somehow I kept the demand note in my possession

(28:14):
instead of tearing it up, and was always presenting it
for payment. Although I was aware of the impossibility of
getting paid, I did it just on the chance. I
occupied my days not with the management of the estate.
I felt disgusted with all business because of the struggle
it involved, but with the reading of papers, magazines, and novels,
and with card playing for small stakes. The only outlet

(28:38):
for my energy was hunting. I had kept that up
from habit, having been fond of this sport all my life.
One day in winter, a neighbor of mine came with
his dogs to hunt wolves. Having arrived at the meeting place,
we put on snow shoes to walk over the snow
and move rapidly along. The hunt was unsuccessful. The wolves

(28:59):
contrived to escape through the stockade. As I became aware
of that from a distance, I took the direction of
the forest to follow the fresh track of a hare.
This led me far away into a field. There I
spied the hair, but he had disappeared before I could fire.
I turned to go back and had to pass a
forest of huge trees. The snow was deep, the snow

(29:20):
shoes were sinking in, and the branches were entangling me.
The wood was getting thicker and thicker. I wondered where
I was, for the snow had changed all the familiar places.
Suddenly I realized that I had lost my way. How
should I get home or reach the hunting party. Not
a sound to guide me I was tired and bathed

(29:41):
in perspiration. If I stopped, I would probably freeze to death.
If I walked on, my strength would forsake me. I shouted,
but all was quiet and no answer came. I turned
in the opposite direction, which was wrong again, and looked
round nothing but the wood on every hand. I could
not tell which was east or west. I turned back again,

(30:04):
but could hardly move a step. I was frightened and stopped.
The horror I had experienced in Narsamis and in Moscow
seized me again, only a hundred times greater. My heart
was beating, my hands and feet were shaking. Am I
to die here? I don't want to? Why death? What
is death? I was about to ask again to reproach God,

(30:28):
when suddenly I felt I must not. I ought not.
I had not the right to present any account to him.
He had said all that was necessary, and the fault
was wholly mine. I began to implore his forgiveness, and
I felt disgusted with myself. The horror, however, did not
last long. I stood still one moment, plucked up courage
and took the direction which seemed to be the right one,

(30:50):
And it was actually soon out of the wood. I
had not been far from its edge when I lost
my way. As I came out on the main road,
my hands and feet were still shaking, and my heart
was beating violently, but my soul was full of joy.
I soon found my party, and we all returned home together.
I was not quite happy, but I knew there was

(31:11):
a joy within me. But I knew there was a
joy within me which I would understand later on, and
that joy proved real. I went to my study to
be alone and prayed, remembering my sins and asking for forgiveness.
They did not seem to be numerous, but when I
thought of what they were, they were hateful to me.
Then I began to read the scriptures. The Old Testament

(31:32):
I found incomprehensible but enchanting, the New touching and into meekness.
But my favorite reading was now the lives of the saints.
They were consoling to me, offering example which seemed more
and more possible to follow. Since that time, I have
grown even less interested in the management of affairs and
in family matters. These things even became repulsive to me.

(31:55):
Everything was wrong in my eyes. I did not quite
realize why they were wrong, But I knew that the
things of which my whole life had consisted now counted
for nothing. This was plainly revealed to me again on
the occasion of the projected purchase of an estate which
was for sale in our neighborhood on very advantageous terms.
I went to inspect it. Everything was very satisfactory, the

(32:18):
more so because the peasants on that estate had no
land of their own beyond their vegetable gardens. I grasped
at once that in exchange for the right of using
the landowner's pasture grounds, they would do all the harvesting
for him, And the information I was given proved that
I was right. I saw how important that was, and
was pleased, as it was in accordance with my old

(32:40):
habits of thought. But on my way home I met
an old woman who asked her way, and I entered
into a conversation with her, during which she told me
about her poverty. On returning home, when telling my wife
about the advantages the estate afforded, all at once I
felt ashamed and disgusted. I said I was not going

(33:01):
to buy that estate, for its profits were based on
the sufferings of the peasants. I was struck at that
moment with the truth of what I was saying, the
truth of the peasants having the same desire to live
as ourselves, of there being our equals, are brethren, the
children of the Father, as the Gospel says. But unexpectedly,

(33:21):
something which had been gnawing within me for a long
time became loosened and was torn away, and something new
seemed to be borne instead. My wife was vexed with
me and abused me, but I was full of joy.
This was the first sign of my madness. My utter
madness began to show itself about a month later. This

(33:42):
began by my going to church. I was listening to
the mass with great attention and with a faithful heart,
when I was suddenly given a wafer, after which every
one began to move forward to kiss the cross, pushing
each other on all sides. As I was leaving church,
beggars were standing on the steps. It became instantly clear
to me that this ought not to be, and in

(34:04):
reality was not. But if this is not, there is
no death and no fear, and nothing is being torn
asunder within me. And I am not afraid of any
calamity which may come at that moment, the full light
of the truth was kindled in me, and I grew
into what I am.

Speaker 1 (34:20):
Now.

Speaker 2 (34:21):
If all this horror does not necessarily exist around me,
then it certainly does not exist within me. I distributed
on the spot all of the money I had among
the beggars in the porch, and I walked home instead
of driving in my carriage as usual, and all the
way I talked with the peasants the end. And I

(34:43):
hope you all are satisfied with this Tolstoy thing, because
that is the single most Christian anarchist thing I will
probably ever read in my life. Like, oh, you have
a panic disorder and you don't know what it's called. Well,
the answer is to hate ca capitalism, and like, yeah,
I don't know fair but the things that I Okay,

(35:06):
there's a couple things I find really interesting in this story.
The first section, I feel like I'm reading Lovecraft, like
who is not a very good person? Because it has
this like I was filled with disgust at the spot
on the man's cheek And then also the fact that
was what drives him to madness is like the shape
of the room, the feeling of a geometry is starting

(35:30):
to drive him mad. And if that ain't love crafting,
I don't know what is. But it's also relatable as
someone who has had panic disorder stuff at various points
in my life. The reason I realized I was going
to read this story is because this shape of I
think everything in my life is completely different now because
I had a panic attack is so relatable to me,

(35:53):
and specifically because I didn't have the language around panic
attacks when I first started having them, and it just
was like, I need to change everything about my life
so that I never experienced that feeling again. And instead
of becoming an anti capitalist because I was already an
anti capitalist, what I did is good therapy. But you know,

(36:13):
to each their own, okay. And then the other thing
I found really fascinating about the story. I was talking
on a recent episode, maybe it was last episode, about
how this structure of stories where the thing happens like
three times before it gets solved, is repeated again. Here.
You know, this is a story of three different panic attacks,

(36:33):
but in the third one it's solved, and it solved,
I mean ironically, it's like solved by like coming to
terms with well trusting himself. Right, He's like all right.
Instead of being afraid, I'm just picking a direction and going.

(36:54):
I like that. The only thing the fear is fear
itself and discourse. The two things that are certain in
this world are death and discourse, but both are to
be avoided anyway. That's completely unrelated. I just like talking
trash on discourse. That's the end of the episode. What
do I have to plug? I have to plug that.

(37:16):
I have a substack newsletter and it's usually free, comes
out once a week, and I talk about all the
things that are on my mind. And sometimes I tell
more personal stories and those ones are for paid subscribers,
but you can subscribe. Also go, I don't know, become
an anti capitalist, also don't Okay, the other thing I

(37:40):
forgot to talk about, Oh, I said, the episode's over,
but then Margaret's still talking. Imagine that somebody talks for
a living is still talking. Okay, So there is another
part that I forgot to flag or whatever point out,
like right at the beginning, this old timey idea of
associating like richness with effeminacy, effemasy, being late you like

(38:00):
as a man, and I hate it so much. I
hate it so much, and I run across it all
the time in old radical literature, because there's this idea
that like, if you're not a working man working with
your hands, then you've been made soft by being rich
and woman like. And the reason I hate that is
not because the aristocracy isn't made soft by the lives

(38:22):
that they lead, but that is so not gendered, like
women's work is invisibilized through all of that, you know,
and I don't like it. Sorry, Tolstoy, You're canceled. Canceling
the dead. That's what I'm gonna call this show. Okay,

(38:42):
I clearly am rambling. I will talk to you all
next week. Bye.

Speaker 1 (38:47):
It Could Happen Here as a production of cool Zone Media.
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You can find sources for Could Happen Here, updated monthly
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