Ilyás

"Ilyás" is a lesser-known work by Leo Tolstoy that delves into themes of faith, morality, and the human condition. The narrative revolves around the character of Ilyás, who embarks on a spiritual journey that challenges his beliefs and understanding of life. Through poignant reflections and encounters, Tolstoy explores the tension between material existence and spiritual fulfillment, ultimately encouraging readers to contemplate the nature of happiness, compassion, and the divine. This story exemplifies Tolstoy's profound insights into the struggles of the human soul and the quest for meaning.

								
In the Government of Ufá there lived a Bashkir, Ilyás. His father had
left him no wealth. His father had died a year after he had got his son
married. At that time Ilyás had seven mares, two cows, and a score of
sheep; but Ilyás was a good master and began to increase his
possessions; he worked with his wife from morning until night, got up
earlier than anybody, and went to bed later, and grew richer from year
to year. Thus Ilyás passed thirty-five years at work, and came to have a
vast fortune.

Ilyás finally had two hundred head of horses, 150 head of cattle, and
twelve hundred sheep. Men herded Ilyás's herds and flocks, and women
milked the mares and cows, and made kumys, butter, and cheese. Ilyás had
plenty of everything, and in the district everybody envied him his life.
People said:

"Ilyás is a lucky fellow. He has plenty of everything,--he does not need
to die."

Good people made Ilyás's friendship and became his friends. And guests
came to him from a distance. He received them all, and fed them, and
gave them to drink. No matter who came, he received kumys, and tea, and
sherbet, and mutton. If guests came to see him, a sheep or two were
killed, and if many guests arrived, he had them kill a mare.

Ilyás had two sons and a daughter. He had got all of them married. When
Ilyás had been poor, his sons had worked with him and had herded the
horses and the cattle and the sheep; but when they grew rich, the sons
became spoiled, and one of them even began to drink. One of them, the
eldest, was killed in a fight, and the other, the younger, had a proud
wife, and did not obey his father, and his father had to give him a
separate maintenance.

Ilyás gave him a house and cattle, and his own wealth was diminished.
Soon after a plague fell on Ilyás's sheep, and many of them died. Then
there was a famine year, the hay crop was a failure, and in the winter
many head of cattle died. Then the Kirgizes drove off the best herd of
horses. And thus Ilyás's estate grew less, and he fell lower and lower,
and his strength began to wane.

When he was seventy years old, he began to sell off his furs, rugs,
saddles, and tents, and soon had to sell his last head of cattle, so
that he was left without anything. Before he knew it, all was gone, and
in his old age he had to go with his wife to live among strangers. All
that Ilyás had left of his fortune was what garments he had on his body,
a fur coat, a cap, and his morocco slippers and shoes, and his wife,
Sham-shemagi, who was now an old woman. The son to whom he had given the
property had left for a distant country, and his daughter had died. And
so there was nobody to help the old people.

Their neighbour, Muhamedshah, took pity on them. Muhamedshah was neither
rich nor poor, and he lived an even life, and was a good man. He
remembered Ilyás's hospitality, and so pitied him, and said to Ilyás:

"Come to live with me, Ilyás, and bring your wife with you! In the
summer work according to your strength in my truck-garden, and in the
winter feed the cattle, and let Sham-shemagi milk the mares and make
kumys. I will feed and clothe you and will let you have whatever you may
need."

Ilyás thanked his neighbour, and went to live with his wife as
Muhamedshah's labourers. At first it was hard for them, but soon they
got used to the work, and the old people worked according to their
strength.

It was profitable for the master to keep these people, for they had been
masters themselves and knew all the order and were not lazy, but worked
according to their strength; but it pained Muhamedshah to see the
well-to-do people brought down so low.

One day distant guests, match-makers, happened to call on Muhamedshah;
and the mulla, too, came. Muhamedshah ordered his men to catch a sheep
and kill it. Ilyás flayed the sheep and cooked it and sent it in to the
guests. They ate the mutton, drank tea, and then started to drink kumys.
The guests and the master were sitting on down cushions on the rugs,
drinking kumys out of bowls, and talking; but Ilyás got through with his
work and walked past the door. When Muhamedshah saw him, he said to a
guest:

"Did you see the old man who just went past the door?"

"I did," said the guest; "but what is there remarkable about him?"

"What is remarkable is that he used to be our richest man. Ilyás is his
name; maybe you have heard of him?"

"Of course I have," said the guest. "I have never seen him, but his fame
has gone far abroad."

"Now he has nothing left, and he lives with me as a labourer, and his
wife is with him,--she milks the cows."

The guest was surprised. He clicked with his tongue, shook his head, and
said:

"Evidently fortune flies around like a wheel: one it lifts up, another
it takes down. Well, does the old man pine?"

"Who knows? He lives quietly and peaceably, and works well."

Then the guest said:

"May I speak with him? I should like to ask him about his life."

"Of course you may," said the master, and he called out of the tent:
"Babay!" (This means "grandfather" in the Bashkia language.) "Come in
and drink some kumys, and bring your wife with you!"

Ilyás came in with his wife. He exchanged greetings with the guests and
with the master, said a prayer, and knelt down at the door; but his wife
went back of a curtain and sat down with the mistress.

A bowl of kumys was handed to Ilyás. Ilyás saluted the guests and the
master, made a bow, drank a little, and put down the bowl.

"Grandfather," the guest said to him, "I suppose it makes you feel bad
to look at us and think of your former life, considering what fortune
you had and how hard your life is now."

But Ilyás smiled and said:

"If I should tell you about my happiness and unhappiness, you would not
believe me,--you had better ask my wife. She is a woman, and what is in
her heart is on her tongue: she will tell you all the truth about this
matter."

And the guest spoke to her behind the curtain:

"Well, granny, tell us how you judge about your former happiness and
present sorrow."

And Sham-shemagi spoke from behind the curtain:

"I judge like this: My husband and I lived for fifty years trying to
find happiness, and we did not find it; but now it is the second year
that we have nothing left and that we live as labourers, and we have
found that happiness and need no other."

The guests were surprised and the master marvelled, and he even got up
to throw aside the curtain and to look at the old woman. But the old
woman was standing with folded hands, smiling and looking at her
husband, and the old man was smiling, too. The old woman said once
more:

"I am telling you the truth, without any jest: for half a century we
tried to find happiness, and so long as we were rich, we did not find
it; now nothing is left, and we are working out,--and we have come to

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