Part One - Chapter 7

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On arriving in Moscow by a morning train, Levin had put up at the

house of his elder half-brother, Koznishev. After changing his

clothes he went down to his brother's study, intending to talk to

him at once about the object of his visit, and to ask his advice;

but his brother was not alone. With him there was a well-known

professor of philosophy, who had come from Harkov expressly to

clear up a difference that had arisen between them on a very

important philosophical question. The professor was carrying on a

hot crusade against materialists. Sergey Koznishev had been

following this crusade with interest, and after reading the

professor's last article, he had written him a letter stating his

objections. He accused the professor of making too great

concessions to the materialists. And the professor had promptly

appeared to argue the matter out. The point in discussion was

the question then in vogue: Is there a line to be drawn between

psychological and physiological phenomena in man? and if so,

where?

Sergey Ivanovitch met his brother with the smile of chilly

friendliness he always had for every one, and introducing him to

the professor, went on with the conversation.

A little man in spectacles, with a narrow forehead, tore himself

from the discussion for an instant to greet Levin, and then went

on talking without paying any further attention to him. Levin

sat down to wait till the professor should go, but he soon began

to get interested in the subject under discussion.

Levin had come across the magazine articles about which they were

disputing, and had read them, interested in them as a development

of the first principles of science, familiar to him as a natural

sceince studen at the university. But he had never connected

these scientific deductions as to the origin of man as an animal,

as to reflex action, biology, and sociology, with those questions

as to the meaning of life and death to himself, which had of late

been more nad more often in his mind.

As he listened to his brother's argument with the professor, he

noticed that they connected these scientific questions with those

spiritual problems, that at times they almost touched on the

latter; but every time they were close upon what seemed to him

the chief point, they promptly beat a hasty retreat, and plunged

again into a sea of subtle distinctions, reservations,

quotations, allusions, and appeals to authorities, and it was

with difficulty that he understood what they were talking about.

"I cannot admit it," said Sergey Ivanovitch, with his habitual

clearness, precision of expression, and elegance of phrase. "I

cannot in any case agree with Keiss that my whole conception of

the external world has been derived from perceptions. The most

fundamental idea, the idea of existence, has not been received by

me through sensation; indeed, there is no special sense-organ for

the transmission of such an idea."

"Yes, but they--Wurt, and Knaust, and Pripasov--would answer that

your conscousness of existence is derived from the conjunction of

all your sensations, that that consciousness of existence is the

result of your sensations. Wurt, indeed, says plainly that,

assuming there are no sensations, it follows that there is no

idea of existence."

"I maintain the contrary," began Sergey Ivanovitch.

But here it seemed to Levin that just as they were close upon the

real point of the matter, they were again retreating, and he made

up his mind to put a question to the professor.

"According to that, if my senses are annihilated, if my body is

dead, I can have no existence of any sort?" he queried.

The professor, in annoyance, and, as it were, mental suffereing

at the interruption, looked round at the strange inquirer, more

like a bargeman than a philosopher, and turned his eyes upon

Sergey Ivanovitch, as though to ask: What's one to say to him?

But Sergey Ivanovitch, who had been talking with far less heat

and one-sidedness than the professor, and who had sufficient

breadth of mind to answer the professor, and at the same time to

comprehend the simple and natural point of view from which the

question was put, smiled and said:

"That question we have no right to answer as yet."

"We have not the requisit data," chimed in the professor, and he

went back to his argument. "No," he said; "I would point out the

fact that if, as Pripasov directly asserts, perception is based

on sensation, then we are bound to distinguish sharply between

these two conceptions."

Levin listened no more, and simply waited for the professor to

go.

Read next: Part One#Chapter 8

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