Oh, my dear, religion, and religion alone can, if not comfort us, at least save us from despair. Only religion can make clear to us what man cannot comprehend without its aid: why and for what purpose good and noble beings capable of happiness, doing no harm to others, indeed essential for the happiness of other people, are called away to God, while wicked, useless and dangerous people are left among the living, a burden to themselves and everyone else. The first death I ever saw, which I shall never forget – the death of my dear little sister-in-law – left me with the same impression. You wonder why your noble brother was fated to die; like you I wondered why Liza had to die – an angel who had never done the slightest harm to anyone, and never had anything but kind thoughts in her heart. But do you know what, my dear friend? Five years have gone by, and even I, with my inferior intellect, am just beginning to understand clearly why it was necessary for her to die, and how that death was but an expression of the infinite goodness of the Creator, whose every action, though for the most part passing all understanding, is but a manifestation of His infinite love for His creation. Perhaps, I often think, she was too angelic, too innocent to have enough strength to perform all the duties of a mother. As a young wife, she was beyond reproach; perhaps she could not have been so in motherhood. As things stand, beyond all the pure memories and regrets she has left us, and particularly Prince Andrey, in the other world she will in all probability attain a place which I myself dare not hope for. But over and above her loss, that early and terrible death has actually come as a powerful blessing for me and my brother, in spite of all our grief. When it happened, at the moment of our loss, I could never have entertained thoughts like these; at that time I should have been horrified and dismissed them, but now it all seems so clear and certain. I write all this to you, my dear friend, simply to persuade you of a Gospel truth which has become a rule of living for me: not a hair of our head shall fall without His will. And His will is governed only by His infinite love for us, and so it is that whatever comes to pass, all is for our good.
You ask whether we shall spend next winter in Moscow. For all my desire to see you, I don’t expect we shall, and I don’t want to do so. And you may be surprised to hear that the reason for this is – Buonaparte. Let me explain: my father’s health is noticeably declining; he cannot stand being contradicted and he’s always so irritable. This irritability is, as you know, mostly directed towards politics. He cannot stand the idea of Buonaparte hobnobbing on equal terms with all the sovereigns of Europe, especially our own, the grandson of the great Catherine! As you know, I haven’t the slightest interest in politics, but from my father and his conversations with Mikhail Ivanovich, I do get to know what is going on in the world, and in particular I keep hearing about all the honours bestowed on Buonaparte. Bald Hills seems to be the only place on the globe where he is not recognized as a great man, let alone Emperor of France. This is what my father cannot put up with. He seems very reluctant to talk about going to Moscow, and I have the feeling this is mainly due to his political views and the likelihood of him rubbing people up the wrong way, what with his general attitude and his habit of speaking his mind and not making any allowances for anybody. Whatever he gained from medical treatment in Moscow he would lose from arguing about Buonaparte, which would be inevitable. Anyway, it will all be settled soon.
