Anna Karenina - Part 1

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 everyone, 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

science student 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 and 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."