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Two months previously when Pierre was already staying with the Rostovs he
had received a letter from Prince Theodore, asking him to come to Petersburg to
confer on some important questions that were being discussed there by a society
of which Pierre was one of the principal founders. |
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On reading that letter (she always read her husband's letters) Natasha
herself suggested that he should go to Petersburg, though she would feel his
absence very acutely. She attributed immense importance to all her husband's
intellectual and abstract interests though she did not understand them, and she
always dreaded being a hindrance to him in such matters. To Pierre's timid look
of inquiry after reading the letter she replied by asking him to go, but to fix
a definite date for his return. He was given four weeks' leave of absence. |
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Ever since that leave of absence had expired, more than a fortnight
before, Natasha had been in a constant state of alarm, depression, and
irritability. |
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Denisov, now a general on the retired list and much dissatisfied with the
present state of affairs, had arrived during that fortnight. He looked at
Natasha with sorrow and surprise as at a bad likeness of a person once dear. A
dull, dejected look, random replies, and talk about the nursery was all he saw
and heard from his former enchantress. |
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Natasha was sad and irritable all that time, especially when her mother,
her brother, Sonya, or Countess Mary in their efforts to console her tried to
excuse Pierre and suggested reasons for his delay in returning. |
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"It's all nonsense, all rubbish- those discussions which lead to
nothing and all those idiotic societies!" Natasha declared of the very
affairs in the immense importance of which she firmly believed. |
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And she would go to the nursery to nurse Petya, her only boy. No one else
could tell her anything so comforting or so reasonable as this little
three-month-old creature when he lay at her breast and she was conscious of the
movement of his lips and the snuffling of his little nose. That creature said:
"You are angry, you are jealous, you would like to pay him out, you are
afraid- but here am I! And I am he..." and that was unanswerable. It was
more than true. |
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During that fortnight of anxiety Natasha resorted to the baby for comfort
so often, and fussed over him so much, that she overfed him and he fell ill. She
was terrified by his illness, and yet that was just what she needed. While
attending to him she bore the anxiety about her husband more easily. |
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She was nursing her boy when the sound of Pierre's sleigh was heard at
the front door, and the old nurse- knowing how to please her mistress- entered
the room inaudibly but hurriedly and with a beaming face. |
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"Has he come?" Natasha asked quickly in a whisper, afraid to
move lest she should rouse the dozing baby. |
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"He's come, ma'am," whispered the nurse. |
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The blood rushed to Natasha's face and her feet involuntarily moved, but
she could not jump up and run out. The baby again opened his eyes and looked at
her. "You're here?" he seemed to be saying, and again lazily smacked
his lips. |
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Cautiously withdrawing her breast, Natasha rocked him a little, handed
him to the nurse, and went with rapid steps toward the door. But at the door she
stopped as if her conscience reproached her for having in her joy left the child
too soon, and she glanced round. The nurse with raised elbows was lifting the
infant over the rail of his cot. |
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"Go, ma'am! Don't worry, go!" she whispered, smiling, with the
kind of familiarity that grows up between a nurse and her mistress. |
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Natasha ran with light footsteps to the anteroom. |
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Denisov, who had come out of the study into the dancing room with his
pipe, now for the first time recognized the old Natasha. A flood of brilliant,
joyful light poured from her transfigured face. |
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"He's come!" she exclaimed as she ran past, and Denisov felt
that he too was delighted that Pierre, whom he did not much care for, had
returned. |
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On reaching the vestibule Natasha saw a tall figure in a fur coat
unwinding his scarf. "It's he! It's really he! He has come!" she said
to herself, and rushing at him embraced him, pressed his head to her breast, and
then pushed him back and gazed at his ruddy, happy face, covered with hoarfrost.
"Yes, it is he, happy and contented..." |
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Then all at once she remembered the tortures of suspense she had
experienced for the last fortnight, and the joy that had lit up her face
vanished; she frowned and overwhelmed Pierre with a torrent of reproaches and
angry words. |
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"Yes, it's all very well for you. You are pleased, you've had a good
time.... But what about me? You might at least have shown consideration for the
children. I am nursing and my milk was spoiled.... Petya was at death's door.
But you were enjoying yourself. Yes, enjoying..." |
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Pierre knew he was not to blame, for he could not have come sooner; he
knew this outburst was unseemly and would blow over in a minute or two; above
all he knew that he himself was bright and happy. He wanted to smile but dared
not even think of doing so. He made a piteous, frightened face and bent down. |
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"I could not, on my honor. But how is Petya?" |
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"All right now. Come along! I wonder you're not ashamed! If only you
could see what I was like without you, how I suffered!" |
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"You are well?" |
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"Come, come!" she said, not letting go of his arm. And they
went to their rooms. |
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When Nicholas and his wife came to look for Pierre he was in the nursery
holding his baby son, who was again awake, on his huge right palm and dandling
him. A blissful bright smile was fixed on the baby's broad face with its
toothless open mouth. The storm was long since over and there was bright, joyous
sunshine on Natasha's face as she gazed tenderly at her husband and child. |
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"And have you talked everything well over with Prince
Theodore?" she asked. |
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"Yes, capitally." |
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"You see, he holds it up." (She meant the baby's head.)
"But how he did frighten me... You've seen the princess? Is it true she's
in love with that..." |
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"Yes, just fancy..." |
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At that moment Nicholas and Countess Mary came in. Pierre with the baby
on his hand stooped, kissed them, and replied to their inquiries. But in spite
of much that was interesting and had to be discussed, the baby with the little
cap on its unsteady head evidently absorbed all his attention. |
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"How sweet!" said Countess Mary, looking at and playing with
the baby. "Now, Nicholas," she added, turning to her husband, "I
can't understand how it is you don't see the charm of these delicious
marvels." |
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"I don't and can't," replied Nicholas, looking coldly at the
baby. "A lump of flesh. Come along, Pierre!" |
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"And yet he's such an affectionate father," said Countess Mary,
vindicating her husband, "but only after they are a year old or so..." |
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"Now, Pierre nurses them splendidly," said Natasha. "He
says his hand is just made for a baby's seat. Just look!" |
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"Only not for this..." Pierre suddenly exclaimed with a laugh,
and shifting the baby he gave him to the nurse. |
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As in every large household, there were at Bald Hills several perfectly
distinct worlds which merged into one harmonious whole, though each retained its
own peculiarities and made concessions to the others. Every event, joyful or
sad, that took place in that house was important to all these worlds, but each
had its own special reasons to rejoice or grieve over that occurrence
independently of the others. |
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For instance, Pierre's return was a joyful and important event and they
all felt it to be so. |
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The servants- the most reliable judges of their masters because they
judge not by their conversation or expressions of feeling but by their acts and
way of life- were glad of Pierre's return because they knew that when he was
there Count Nicholas would cease going every day attend to the estate, and would
would be in better spirits and temper, and also because they would all receive
handsome presents for the holidays. |
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The children and their governesses were glad of Pierre's return because
no one else drew them into the social life of the household as he did. He alone
could play on the clavichord that ecossaise (his only piece) to which, as he
said, all possible dances could be danced, and they felt sure he had brought
presents for them all. |
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Young Nicholas, now a slim lad of fifteen, delicate and intelligent, with
curly light-brown hair and beautiful eyes, was delighted because Uncle Pierre as
he called him was the object of his rapturous and passionate affection. No one
had instilled into him this love for Pierre whom he saw only occasionally.
Countess Mary who had brought him up had done her utmost to make him love her
husband as she loved him, and little Nicholas did love his uncle, but loved him
with just a shade of contempt. Pierre, however, he adored. He did not want to be
an hussar or a Knight of St. George like his uncle Nicholas; he wanted to be
learned, wise, and kind like Pierre. In Pierre's presence his face always shone
with pleasure and he flushed and was breathless when Pierre spoke to him. He did
not miss a single word he uttered, and would afterwards, with Dessalles or by
himself, recall and reconsider the meaning of everything Pierre had said.
Pierre's past life and his unhappiness prior to 1812 (of which young Nicholas
had formed a vague poetic picture from some words he had overheard), his
adventures in Moscow, his captivity, Platon Karataev (of whom he had heard from
Pierre), his love for Natasha (of whom the lad was also particularly fond), and
especially Pierre's friendship with the father whom Nicholas could not remember-
all this made Pierre in his eyes a hero and a saint. |
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From broken remarks about Natasha and his father, from the emotion with
which Pierre spoke of that dead father, and from the careful, reverent
tenderness with which Natasha spoke of him, the boy, who was only just beginning
to guess what love is, derived the notion that his father had loved Natasha and
when dying had left her to his friend. But the father whom the boy did not
remember appeared to him a divinity who could not be pictured, and of whom he
never thought without a swelling heart and tears of sadness and rapture. So the
boy also was happy that Pierre had arrived. |
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The guests welcomed Pierre because he always helped to enliven and unite
any company he was in. |
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The grown-up members of the family, not to mention his wife, were pleased
to have back a friend whose presence made life run more smoothly and peacefully. |
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The old ladies were pleased with the presents he brought them, and
especially that Natasha would now be herself again. |
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Pierre felt the different outlooks of these various worlds and made haste
to satisfy all their expectations. |
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Though the most absent-minded and forgetful of men, Pierre, with the aid
of a list his wife drew up, had now bought everything, not forgetting his
mother- and brother-in-law's commissions, nor the dress material for a present
to Belova, nor toys for his wife's nephews. In the early days of his marriage it
had seemed strange to him that his wife should expect him not to forget to
procure all the things he undertook to buy, and he had been taken aback by her
serious annoyance when on his first trip he forgot everything. But in time he
grew used to this demand. Knowing that Natasha asked nothing for herself, and
gave him commissions for others only when he himself had offered to undertake
them, he now found an unexpected and childlike pleasure in this purchase of
presents for everyone in the house, and never forgot anything. If he now
incurred Natasha's censure it was only for buying too many and too expensive
things. To her other defects (as most people thought them, but which to Pierre
were qualities) of untidiness and neglect of herself, she now added stinginess. |
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From the time that Pierre began life as a family man on a footing
entailing heavy expenditure, he had noticed to his surprise that he spent only
half as much as before, and that his affairs- which had been in disorder of
late, chiefly because of his first wife's debts- had begun to improve. |
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Life was cheaper because it was circumscribed: that most expensive
luxury, the kind of life that can be changed at any moment, was no longer his
nor did he wish for it. He felt that his way of life had now been settled once
for all till death and that to change it was not in his power, and so that way
of life proved economical. |
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With a merry, smiling face Pierre was sorting his purchases. |
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"What do you think of this?" said he, unrolling a piece of
stuff like a shopman. |
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Natasha, who was sitting opposite to him with her eldest daughter on her
lap, turned her sparkling eyes swiftly from her husband to the things he showed
her. |
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"That's for Belova? Excellent!" She felt the quality of the
material. "It was a ruble an arshin, I suppose?" |
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Pierre told her the price. |
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"Too dear!" Natasha remarked. "How pleased the children
will be and Mamma too! Only you need not have bought me this," she added,
unable to suppress a smile as she gazed admiringly at a gold comb set with
pearls, of a kind then just coming into fashion. |
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"Adele tempted me: she kept on telling me to buy it," returned
Pierre. |
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"When am I to wear it?" and Natasha stuck it in her coil of
hair. "When I take little Masha into society? Perhaps they will be
fashionable again by then. Well, let's go now." |
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And collecting the presents they went first to the nursery and then to
the old countess' rooms. |
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The countess was sitting with her companion Belova, playing
grand-patience as usual, when Pierre and Natasha came into the drawing room with
parcels under their arms. |
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The countess was now over sixty, was quite gray, and wore a cap with a
frill that surrounded her face. Her face had shriveled, her upper lip had sunk
in, and her eyes were dim. |
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After the deaths of her son and husband in such rapid succession, she
felt herself a being accidentally forgotten in this world and left without aim
or object for her existence. She ate, drank, slept, or kept awake, but did not
live. Life gave her no new impressions. She wanted nothing from life but
tranquillity, and that tranquillity only death could give her. But until death
came she had to go on living, that is, to use her vital forces. A peculiarity
one sees in very young children and very old people was particularly evident in
her. Her life had no external aims- only a need to exercise her various
functions and inclinations was apparent. She had to eat, sleep, think, speak,
weep, work, give vent to her anger, and so on, merely because she had a stomach,
a brain, muscles, nerves, and a liver. She did these things not under any
external impulse as people in the full vigor of life do, when behind the purpose
for which they strive that of exercising their functions remains unnoticed. She
talked only because she physically needed to exercise her tongue and lungs. She
cried as a child does, because her nose had to be cleared, and so on. What for
people in their full vigor is an aim was for her evidently merely a pretext. |
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Thus in the morning- especially if she had eaten anything rich the day
before- she felt a need of being angry and would choose as the handiest pretext
Belova's deafness. |
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She would begin to say something to her in a low tone from the other end
of the room. |
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"It seems a little warmer today, my dear," she would murmur. |
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And when Belova replied: "Oh yes, they've come," she would
mutter angrily: "O Lord! How stupid and deaf she is!" |
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Another pretext would be her snuff, which would seem too dry or too damp
or not rubbed fine enough. After these fits of irritability her face would grow
yellow, and her maids knew by infallible symptoms when Belova would again be
deaf, the snuff damp, and the countess' face yellow. Just as she needed to work
off her spleen so she had sometimes to exercise her still-existing faculty of
thinking- and the pretext for that was a game of patience. When she needed to
cry, the deceased count would be the pretext. When she wanted to be agitated,
Nicholas and his health would be the pretext, and when she felt a need to speak
spitefully, the pretext would be Countess Mary. When her vocal organs needed
exercise, which was usually toward seven o'clock when she had had an
after-dinner rest in a darkened room, the pretext would be the retelling of the
same stories over and over again to the same audience. |
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The old lady's condition was understood by the whole household though no
one ever spoke of it, and they all made every possible effort to satisfy her
needs. Only by a rare glance exchanged with a sad smile between Nicholas,
Pierre, Natasha, and Countess Mary was the common understanding of her condition
expressed. |
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But those glances expressed something more: they said that she had played
her part in life, that what they now saw was not her whole self, that we must
all become like her, and that they were glad to yield to her, to restrain
themselves for this once precious being formerly as full of life as themselves,
but now so much to be pitied. "Memento mori," said these glances. |
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Only the really heartless, the stupid ones of that household, and the
little children failed to understand this and avoided her. |
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When Pierre and his wife entered the drawing room the countess was in one
of her customary states in which she needed the mental exertion of playing
patience, and so- though by force of habit she greeted him with the words she
always used when Pierre or her son returned after an absence: "High time,
my dear, high time! We were all weary of waiting for you. Well, thank God!"
and received her presents with another customary remark: "It's not the gift
that's precious, my dear, but that you give it to me, an old woman..."- yet
it was evident that she was not pleased by Pierre's arrival at that moment when
it diverted her attention from the unfinished game. |
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She finished her game of patience and only then examined the presents.
They consisted of a box for cards, of splendid workmanship, a bright-blue Sevres
tea cup with shepherdesses depicted on it and with a lid, and a gold snuffbox
with the count's portrait on the lid which Pierre had had done by a miniaturist
in Petersburg. The countess had long wished for such a box, but as she did not
want to cry just then she glanced indifferently at the portrait and gave her
attention chiefly to the box for cards. |
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"Thank you, my dear, you have cheered me up," said she as she
always did. "But best of all you have brought yourself back- for I never
saw anything like it, you ought to give your wife a scolding! What are we to do
with her? She is like a mad woman when you are away. Doesn't see anything,
doesn't remember anything," she went on, repeating her usual phrases.
"Look, Anna Timofeevna," she added to her companion, "see what a
box for cards my son has brought us!" |
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Belova admired the presents and was delighted with her dress material. |
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Though Pierre, Natasha, Nicholas, Countess Mary, and Denisov had much to
talk about that they could not discuss before the old countess- not that
anything was hidden from her, but because she had dropped so far behindhand in
many things that had they begun to converse in her presence they would have had
to answer inopportune questions and to repeat what they had already told her
many times: that so-and-so was dead and so-and-so was married, which she would
again be unable to remember- yet they sat at tea round the samovar in the
drawing room from habit, and Pierre answered the countess' questions as to
whether Prince Vasili had aged and whether Countess Mary Alexeevna had sent
greetings and still thought of them, and other matters that interested no one
and to which she herself was indifferent. |
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Conversation of this kind, interesting to no one yet unavoidable,
continued all through teatime. All the grown-up members of the family were
assembled near the round tea table at which Sonya presided beside the samovar.
The children with their tutors and governesses had had tea and their voices were
audible from the next room. At tea all sat in their accustomed places: Nicholas
beside the stove at a small table where his tea was handed to him; Milka, the
old gray borzoi bitch (daughter of the first Milka), with a quite gray face and
large black eyes that seemed more prominent than ever, lay on the armchair
beside him; Denisov, whose curly hair, mustache, and whiskers had turned half
gray, sat beside countess Mary with his general's tunic unbuttoned; Pierre sat
between his wife and the old countess. He spoke of what he knew might interest
the old lady and that she could understand. He told her of external social
events and of the people who had formed the circle of her contemporaries and had
once been a real, living, and distinct group, but who were now for the most part
scattered about the world and like herself were garnering the last ears of the
harvests they had sown in earlier years. But to the old countess those
contemporaries of hers seemed to be the only serious and real society. Natasha
saw by Pierre's animation that his visit had been interesting and that he had
much to tell them but dare not say it before the old countess. Denisov, not
being a member of the family, did not understand Pierre's caution and being, as
a malcontent, much interested in what was occurring in Petersburg, kept urging
Pierre to tell them about what had happened in the Semenovsk regiment, then
about Arakcheev, and then about the Bible Society. Once or twice Pierre was
carried away and began to speak of these things, but Nicholas and Natasha always
brought him back to the health of Prince Ivan and Countess Mary Alexeevna. |
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"Well, and all this idiocy- Gossner and Tatawinova?" Denisov
asked. "Is that weally still going on?" |
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"Going on?" Pierre exclaimed. "Why more than ever! The
Bible Society is the whole government now!" |
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"What is that, mon cher ami?" asked the countess, who had
finished her tea and evidently needed a pretext for being angry after her meal.
"What are you saying about the government? I don't understand." |
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"Well, you know, Maman," Nicholas interposed, knowing how to
translate things into his mother's language, "Prince Alexander Golitsyn has
founded a society and in consequence has great influence, they say." |
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"Arakcheev and Golitsyn," incautiously remarked Pierre,
"are now the whole government! And what a government! They see treason
everywhere and are afraid of everything." |
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"Well, and how is Prince Alexander to blame? He is a most estimable
man. I used to meet him at Mary Antonovna's," said the countess in an
offended tone; and still more offended that they all remained silent, she went
on: "Nowadays everyone finds fault. A Gospel Society! Well, and what harm
is there in that?" and she rose (everybody else got up too) and with a
severe expression sailed back to her table in the sitting room. |
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The melancholy silence that followed was broken by the sounds of the
children's voices and laughter from the next room. Evidently some jolly
excitement was going on there. |
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"Finished, finished!" little Natasha's gleeful yell rose above
them all. |
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Pierre exchanged glances with Countess Mary and Nicholas (Natasha he
never lost sight of) and smiled happily. |
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"That's delightful music!" said he. |
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"It means that Anna Makarovna has finished her stocking," said
Countess Mary. |
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"Oh, I'll go and see," said Pierre, jumping up. "You
know," he added, stopping at the door, "why I'm especially fond of
that music? It is always the first thing that tells me all is well. When I was
driving here today, the nearer I got to the house the more anxious I grew. As I
entered the anteroom I heard Andrusha's peals of laughter and that meant that
all was well." |
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"I know! I know that feeling," said Nicholas. "But I
mustn't go there- those stockings are to be a surprise for me." |
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Pierre went to the children, and the shouting and laughter grew still
louder. |
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"Come, Anna Makarovna," Pierre's voice was heard saying,
"come here into the middle of the room and at the word of command, 'One,
two,' and when I say 'three'... You stand here, and you in my arms- well now!
One, two!..." said Pierre, and a silence followed: "three!" and a
rapturously breathless cry of children's voices filled the room. "Two,
two!" they shouted. |
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This meant two stockings, which by a secret process known only to herself
Anna Makarovna used to knit at the same time on the same needles, and which,
when they were ready, she always triumphantly drew, one out of the other, in the
children's presence. |
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Soon after this the children came in to say good night. They kissed
everyone, the tutors and governesses made their bows, and they went out. Only
young Nicholas and his tutor remained. Dessalles whispered to the boy to come
downstairs. |
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"No, Monsieur Dessalles, I will ask my aunt to let me stay,"
replied Nicholas Bolkonski also in a whisper. |
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"Ma tante, please let me stay," said he, going up to his aunt. |
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His face expressed entreaty, agitation, and ecstasy. Countess Mary
glanced at him and turned to Pierre. |
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"When you are here he can't tear himself away," she said. |
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"I will bring him to you directly, Monsieur Dessalles. Good
night!" said Pierre, giving his hand to the Swiss tutor, and he turned to
young Nicholas with a smile. "You and I haven't seen anything of one
another yet... How like he is growing, Mary!" he added, addressing Countess
Mary. |
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"Like my father?" asked the boy, flushing crimson and looking
up at Pierre with bright, ecstatic eyes. |
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Pierre nodded, and went on with what he had been saying when the children
had interrupted. Countess Mary sat down doing woolwork; Natasha did not take her
eyes off her husband. Nicholas and Denisov rose, asked for their pipes, smoked,
went to fetch more tea from Sonya- who sat weary but resolute at the samovar-
and questioned Pierre. The curly-headed, delicate boy sat with shining eyes
unnoticed in a corner, starting every now and then and muttering something to
himself, and evidently experiencing a new and powerful emotion as he turned his
curly head, with his thin neck exposed by his turn-down collar, toward the place
where Pierre sat. |
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The conversation turned on the contemporary gossip about those in power,
in which most people see the chief interest of home politics. Denisov,
dissatisfied with the government on account of his own disappointments in the
service, heard with pleasure of the things done in Petersburg which seemed to
him stupid, and made forcible and sharp comments on what Pierre told them. |
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"One used to have to be a German- now one must dance with Tatawinova
and Madame Kwudener, and wead Ecka'tshausen and the bwethwen. Oh, they should
let that fine fellow Bonaparte lose- he'd knock all this nonsense out of them!
Fancy giving the command of the Semenov wegiment to a fellow like that
Schwa'tz!" he cried. |
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Nicholas, though free from Denisov's readiness to find fault with
everything, also thought that discussion of the government was a very serious
and weighty matter, and the fact that A had been appointed Minister of This and
B Governor General of That, and that the Emperor had said so-and-so and this
minister so-and-so, seemed to him very important. And so he thought it necessary
to take an interest in these things and to question Pierre. The questions put by
these two kept the conversation from changing its ordinary character of gossip
about the higher government circles. |
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But Natasha, knowing all her husband's ways and ideas, saw that he had
long been wishing but had been unable to divert the conversation to another
channel and express his own deeply felt idea for the sake of which he had gone
to Petersburg to consult with his new friend Prince Theodore, and she helped him
by asking how his affairs with Prince Theodore had gone. |
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"What was it about?" asked Nicholas. |
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"Always the same thing," said Pierre, looking round at his
listeners. "Everybody sees that things are going so badly that they cannot
be allowed to go on so and that it is the duty of all decent men to counteract
it as far as they can." |
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"What can decent men do?" Nicholas inquired, frowning slightly.
"What can be done?" |
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"Why, this..." |
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"Come into my study," said Nicholas. |
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Natasha, who had long expected to be fetched to nurse her baby, now heard
the nurse calling her and went to the nursery. Countess Mary followed her. The
men went into the study and little Nicholas Bolkonski followed them unnoticed by
his uncle and sat down at the writing table in a shady corner by the window. |
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"Well, what would you do?" asked Denisov. |
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"Always some fantastic schemes," said Nicholas. |
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"Why this," began Pierre, not sitting down but pacing the room,
sometimes stopping short, gesticulating, and lisping: "the position in
Petersburg is this: the Emperor does not look into anything. He has abandoned
himself altogether to this mysticism" (Pierre could not tolerate mysticism
in anyone now). "He seeks only for peace, and only these people sans foi ni
loi* can give it him- people who recklessly hack at and strangle everything-
Magnitski, Arakcheev, and tutti quanti.... You will agree that if you did not
look after your estates yourself but only wanted a quiet life, the harsher your
steward was the more readily your object might be attained," he said to
Nicholas. |
|
|
*Without faith or law. |
|
|
"Well, what does that lead up to?" said Nicholas. |
|
|
"Well, everything is going to ruin! Robbery in the law courts, in
the army nothing but flogging, drilling, and Military Settlements; the people
are tortured, enlightenment is suppressed. All that is young and honest is
crushed! Everyone sees that this cannot go on. Everything is strained to such a
degree that it will certainly break," said Pierre (as those who examine the
actions of any government have always said since governments began). "I
told them just one thing in Petersburg." |
|
|
"Told whom?" |
|
|
"Well, you know whom," said Pierre, with a meaning glance from
under his brows. "Prince Theodore and all those. To encourage culture and
philanthropy is all very well of course. The aim is excellent but in the present
circumstances something else is needed." |
|
|
At that moment Nicholas noticed the presence of his nephew. His face
darkened and he went up to the boy. |
|
|
"Why are you here?" |
|
|
"Why? Let him be," said Pierre, taking Nicholas by the arm and
continuing. "That is not enough, I told them. Something else is needed.
When you stand expecting the overstrained string to snap at any moment, when
everyone is expecting the inevitable catastrophe, as many as possible must join
hands as closely as they can to withstand the general calamity. Everything that
is young and strong is being enticed away and depraved. One is lured by women,
another by honors, a third by ambition or money, and they go over to that camp.
No independent men, such as you or I, are left. What I say is widen the scope of
our society, let the mot d'ordre be not virtue alone but independence and action
as well!" |
|
|
Nicholas, who had left his nephew, irritably pushed up an armchair, sat
down in it, and listened to Pierre, coughing discontentedly and frowning more
and more. |
|
|
"But action with what aim?" he cried. "And what position
will you adopt toward the government?" |
|
|
"Why, the position of assistants. The society need not be secret if
the government allows it. Not merely is it not hostile to government, but it is
a society of true conservatives- a society of gentlemen in the full meaning of
that word. It is only to prevent some Pugachev or other from killing my children
and yours, and Arakcheev from sending me off to some Military Settlement. We
join hands only for the public welfare and the general safety." |
|
|
"Yes, but it's a secret society and therefore a hostile and harmful
one which can only cause harm." |
|
|
"Why? Did the Tugendbund which saved Europe" (they did not then
venture to suggest that Russia had saved Europe) "do any harm? The
Tugendbund is an alliance of virtue: it is love, mutual help... it is what
Christ preached on the Cross." |
|
|
Natasha, who had come in during the conversation, looked joyfully at her
husband. It was not what he was saying that pleased her- that did not even
interest her, for it seemed to her that was all extremely simple and that she
had known it a long time (it seemed so to her because she knew that it sprang
from Pierre's whole soul), but it was his animated and enthusiastic appearance
that made her glad. |
|
|
The boy with the thin neck stretching out from the turn-down collar- whom
everyone had forgotten- gazed at Pierre with even greater and more rapturous
joy. Every word of Pierre's burned into his heart, and with a nervous movement
of his fingers he unconsciously broke the sealing wax and quill pens his hands
came upon on his uncle's table. |
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|
"It is not at all what you suppose; but that is what the German
Tugendbund was, and what I am proposing." |
|
|
"No, my fwiend! The Tugendbund is all vewy well for the sausage
eaters, but I don't understand it and can't even pwonounce it," interposed
Denisov in a loud and resolute voice. "I agwee that evewything here is
wotten and howwible, but the Tugendbund I don't understand. If we're not
satisfied, let us have a bunt of our own. That's all wight. Je suis vot'e
homme!"* |
|
|
*"I'm your man." |
|
|
Pierre smiled, Natasha began to laugh, but Nicholas knitted his brows
still more and began proving to Pierre that there was no prospect of any great
change and that all the danger he spoke of existed only in his imagination.
Pierre maintained the contrary, and as his mental faculties were greater and
more resourceful, Nicholas felt himself cornered. This made him still angrier,
for he was fully convinced, not by reasoning but by something within him
stronger than reason, of the justice of his opinion. |
|
|
"I will tell you this," he said, rising and trying with
nervously twitching fingers to prop up his pipe in a corner, but finally
abandoning the attempt. "I can't prove it to you. You say that everything
here is rotten and that an overthrow is coming: I don't see it. But you also say
that our oath of allegiance is a conditional matter, and to that I reply: 'You
are my best friend, as you know, but if you formed a secret society and began
working against the government- be it what it may- I know it is my duty to obey
the government. And if Arakcheev ordered me to lead a squadron against you and
cut you down, I should not hesitate an instant, but should do it.' And you may
argue about that as you like!" |
|
|
An awkward silence followed these words. Natasha was the first to speak,
defending her husband and attacking her brother. Her defense was weak and inapt
but she attained her object. The conversation was resumed, and no longer in the
unpleasantly hostile tone of Nicholas' last remark. |
|
|
When they all got up to go in to supper, little Nicholas Bolkonski went
up to Pierre, pale and with shining, radiant eyes. |
|
|
"Uncle Pierre, you... no... If Papa were alive... would he agree
with you?" he asked. |
|
|
And Pierre suddenly realized what a special, independent, complex, and
powerful process of thought and feeling must have been going on in this boy
during that conversation, and remembering all he had said he regretted that the
lad should have heard him. He had, however, to give him an answer. |
|
|
"Yes, I think so," he said reluctantly, and left the study. |
|
|
The lad looked down and seemed now for the first time to notice what he
had done to the things on the table. He flushed and went up to Nicholas. |
|
|
"Uncle, forgive me, I did that... unintentionally," he said,
pointing to the broken sealing wax and pens. |
|
|
Nicholas started angrily. |
|
|
"All right, all right," he said, throwing the bits under the
table. |
|
|
And evidently suppressing his vexation with difficulty, he turned away
from the boy. |
|
|
"You ought not to have been here at all," he said. |
|
|
The conversation at supper was not about politics or societies, but
turned on the subject Nicholas liked best- recollections of 1812. Denisov
started these and Pierre was particularly agreeable and amusing about them. The
family separated on the most friendly terms. |
|
|
After supper Nicholas, having undressed in his study and given
instructions to the steward who had been waiting for him, went to the bedroom in
his dressing gown, where he found his wife still at her table, writing. |
|
|
"What are you writing, Mary?" Nicholas asked. |
|
|
Countess Mary blushed. She was afraid that what she was writing would not
be understood or approved by her husband. |
|
|
She had wanted to conceal what she was writing from him, but at the same
time was glad he had surprised her at it and that she would now have to tell
him. |
|
|
"A diary, Nicholas," she replied, handing him a blue exercise
book filled with her firm, bold writing. |
|
|
"A diary?" Nicholas repeated with a shade of irony, and he took
up the book. |
|
|
It was in French. |
|
|
December 4. Today when Andrusha (her eldest boy) woke up he did not wish
to dress and Mademoiselle Louise sent for me. He was naughty and obstinate. I
tried threats, but he only grew angrier. Then I took the matter in hand: I left
him alone and began with nurse's help to get the other children up, telling him
that I did not love him. For a long time he was silent, as if astonished, then
he jumped out of bed, ran to me in his shirt, and sobbed so that I could not
calm him for a long time. It was plain that what troubled him most was that he
had grieved me. Afterwards in the evening when I gave him his ticket, he again
began crying piteously and kissing me. One can do anything with him by
tenderness. |
|
|
"What is a 'ticket'?" Nicholas inquired. |
|
|
"I have begun giving the elder ones marks every evening, showing how
they have behaved." |
|
|
Nicholas looked into the radiant eyes that were gazing at him, and
continued to turn over the pages and read. In the diary was set down everything
in the children's lives that seemed noteworthy to their mother as showing their
characters or suggesting general reflections on educational methods. They were
for the most part quite insignificant trifles, but did not seem so to the mother
or to the father either, now that he read this diary about his children for the
first time. |
|
|
Under the date "5" was entered: |
|
|
Mitya was naughty at table. Papa said he was to have no pudding. He had
none, but looked so unhappily and greedily at the others while they were eating!
I think that punishment by depriving children of sweets only develops their
greediness. Must tell Nicholas this. |
|
|
Nicholas put down the book and looked at his wife. The radiant eyes gazed
at him questioningly: would he approve or disapprove of her diary? There could
be no doubt not only of his approval but also of his admiration for his wife. |
|
|
Perhaps it need not be done so pedantically, thought Nicholas, or even
done at all, but this untiring, continual spiritual effort of which the sole aim
was the children's moral welfare delighted him. Had Nicholas been able to
analyze his feelings he would have found that his steady, tender, and proud love
of his wife rested on his feeling of wonder at her spirituality and at the lofty
moral world, almost beyond his reach, in which she had her being. |
|
|
He was proud of her intelligence and goodness, recognized his own
insignificance beside her in the spiritual world, and rejoiced all the more that
she with such a soul not only belonged to him but was part of himself. |
|
|
"I quite, quite approve, my dearest!" said he with a
significant look, and after a short pause he added: "And I behaved badly
today. You weren't in the study. We began disputing- Pierre and I- and I lost my
temper. But he is impossible: such a child! I don't know what would become of
him if Natasha didn't keep him in hand.... Have you any idea why he went to
Petersburg? They have formed..." |
|
|
"Yes, I know," said Countess Mary. "Natasha told me." |
|
|
"Well, then, you know," Nicholas went on, growing hot at the
mere recollection of their discussion, "he wanted to convince me that it is
every honest man's duty to go against the government, and that the oath of
allegiance and duty... I am sorry you weren't there. They all fell on me-
Denisov and Natasha... Natasha is absurd. How she rules over him! And yet there
need only be a discussion and she has no words of her own but only repeats his
sayings..." added Nicholas, yielding to that irresistible inclination which
tempts us to judge those nearest and dearest to us. He forgot that what he was
saying about Natasha could have been applied word for word to himself in
relation to his wife. |
|
|
"Yes, I have noticed that," said Countess Mary. |
|
|
"When I told him that duty and the oath were above everything, he
started proving goodness knows what! A pity you were not there- what would you
have said?" |
|
|
"As I see it you were quite right, and I told Natasha so. Pierre
says everybody is suffering, tortured, and being corrupted, and that it is our
duty to help our neighbor. Of course he is right there," said Countess
Mary, "but he forgets that we have other duties nearer to us, duties
indicated to us by God Himself, and that though we might expose ourselves to
risks we must not risk our children." |
|
|
"Yes, that's it! That's just what I said to him," put in
Nicholas, who fancied he really had said it. "But they insisted on their
own view: love of one's neighbor and Christianity- and all this in the presence
of young Nicholas, who had gone into my study and broke all my things." |
|
|
"Ah, Nicholas, do you know I am often troubled about little
Nicholas," said Countess Mary. "He is such an exceptional boy. I am
afraid I neglect him in favor of my own: we all have children and relations
while he has no one. He is constantly alone with his thoughts." |
|
|
"Well, I don't think you need reproach yourself on his account. All
that the fondest mother could do for her son you have done and are doing for
him, and of course I am glad of it. He is a fine lad, a fine lad! This evening
he listened to Pierre in a sort of trance, and fancy- as we were going in to
supper I looked and he had broken everything on my table to bits, and he told me
of it himself at once! I never knew him to tell an untruth. A fine lad, a fine
lad!" repeated Nicholas, who at heart was not fond of Nicholas Bolkonski
but was always anxious to recognize that he was a fine lad. |
|
|
"Still, I am not the same as his own mother," said Countess
Mary. "I feel I am not the same and it troubles me. A wonderful boy, but I
am dreadfully afraid for him. It would be good for him to have companions." |
|
|
"Well it won't be for long. Next summer I'll take him to
Petersburg," said Nicholas. "Yes, Pierre always was a dreamer and
always will be," he continued, returning to the talk in the study which had
evidently disturbed him. "Well, what business is it of mine what goes on
there- whether Arakcheev is bad, and all that? What business was it of mine when
I married and was so deep in debt that I was threatened with prison, and had a
mother who could not see or understand it? And then there are you and the
children and our affairs. Is it for my own pleasure that I am at the farm or in
the office from morning to night? No, but I know I must work to comfort my
mother, to repay you, and not to leave the children such beggars as I was." |
|
|
Countess Mary wanted to tell him that man does not live by bread alone
and that he attached too much importance to these matters. But she knew she must
not say this and that it would be useless to do so. She only took his hand and
kissed it. He took this as a sign of approval and a confirmation of his
thoughts, and after a few minutes' reflection continued to think aloud. |
|
|
"You know, Mary, today Elias Mitrofanych" (this was his
overseer) "came back from the Tambov estate and told me they are already
offering eighty thousand rubles for the forest." |
|
|
And with an eager face Nicholas began to speak of the possibility of
repurchasing Otradnoe before long, and added: "Another ten years of life
and I shall leave the children... in an excellent position." |
|
|
Countess Mary listened to her husband and understood all that he told
her. She knew that when he thought aloud in this way he would sometimes ask her
what he had been saying, and be vexed if he noticed that she had been thinking
about something else. But she had to force herself to attend, for what he was
saying did not interest her at all. She looked at him and did not think, but
felt, about something different. She felt a submissive tender love for this man
who would never understand all that she understood, and this seemed to make her
love for him still stronger and added a touch of passionate tenderness. Besides
this feeling which absorbed her altogether and hindered her from following the
details of her husband's plans, thoughts that had no connection with what he was
saying flitted through her mind. She thought of her nephew. Her husband's
account of the boy's agitation while Pierre was speaking struck her forcibly,
and various traits of his gentle, sensitive character recurred to her mind; and
while thinking of her nephew she thought also of her own children. She did not
compare them with him, but compared her feeling for them with her feeling for
him, and felt with regret that there was something lacking in her feeling for
young Nicholas. |
|
|
Sometimes it seemed to her that this difference arose from the difference
in their ages, but she felt herself to blame toward him and promised in her
heart to do better and to accomplish the impossible- in this life to love her
husband, her children, little Nicholas, and all her neighbors, as Christ loved
mankind. Countess Mary's soul always strove toward the infinite, the eternal,
and the absolute, and could therefore never be at peace. A stern expression of
the lofty, secret suffering of a soul burdened by the body appeared on her face.
Nicholas gazed at her. "O God! What will become of us if she dies, as I
always fear when her face is like that?" thought he, and placing himself
before the icon he began to say his evening prayers. |
|
|
Natasha and Pierre, left alone, also began to talk as only a husband and
wife can talk, that is, with extraordinary clearness and rapidity, understanding
and expressing each other's thoughts in ways contrary to all rules of logic,
without premises, deductions, or conclusions, and in a quite peculiar way.
Natasha was so used to this kind of talk with her husband that for her it was
the surest sign of something being wrong between them if Pierre followed a line
of logical reasoning. When he began proving anything, or talking argumentatively
and calmly and she, led on by his example, began to do the same, she knew that
they were on the verge of a quarrel. |
|
|
From the moment they were alone and Natasha came up to him with wide-open
happy eyes, and quickly seizing his head pressed it to her bosom, saying:
"Now you are all mine, mine! You won't escape!"- from that moment this
conversation began, contrary to all the laws of logic and contrary to them
because quite different subjects were talked about at one and the same time.
This simultaneous discussion of many topics did not prevent a clear
understanding but on the contrary was the surest sign that they fully understood
one another. |
|
|
Just as in a dream when all is uncertain, unreasoning, and contradictory,
except the feeling that guides the dream, so in this intercourse contrary to all
laws of reason, the words themselves were not consecutive and clear but only the
feeling that prompted them. |
|
|
Natasha spoke to Pierre about her brother's life and doings, of how she
had suffered and lacked life during his own absence, and of how she was fonder
than ever of Mary, and how Mary was in every way better than herself. In saying
this Natasha was sincere in acknowledging Mary's superiority, but at the same
time by saying it she made a demand on Pierre that he should, all the same,
prefer her to Mary and to all other women, and that now, especially after having
seen many women in Petersburg, he should tell her so afresh. |
|
|
Pierre, answering Natasha's words, told her how intolerable it had been
for him to meet ladies at dinners and balls in Petersburg. |
|
|
"I have quite lost the knack of talking to ladies," he said.
"It was simply dull. Besides, I was very busy." |
|
|
Natasha looked intently at him and went on: |
|
|
"Mary is so splendid," she said. "How she understands
children! It is as if she saw straight into their souls. Yesterday, for
instance, Mitya was naughty..." |
|
|
"How like his father he is," Pierre interjected. |
|
|
Natasha knew why he mentioned Mitya's likeness to Nicholas: the
recollection of his dispute with his brother-in-law was unpleasant and he wanted
to know what Natasha thought of it. |
|
|
"Nicholas has the weakness of never agreeing with anything not
generally accepted. But I understand that you value what opens up a fresh
line," said she, repeating words Pierre had once uttered. |
|
|
"No, the chief point is that to Nicholas ideas and discussions are
an amusement- almost a pastime," said Pierre. "For instance, he is
collecting a library and has made it a rule not to buy a new book till he has
read what he had already bought- Sismondi and Rousseau and Montesquieu," he
added with a smile. "You know how much I..." he began to soften down
what he had said; but Natasha interrupted him to show that this was unnecessary. |
|
|
"So you say ideas are an amusement to him...." |
|
|
"Yes, and for me nothing else is serious. All the time in Petersburg
I saw everyone as in a dream. When I am taken up by a thought, all else is mere
amusement." |
|
|
"Ah, I'm so sorry I wasn't there when you met the children,"
said Natasha. "Which was most delighted? Lisa, I'm sure." |
|
|
"Yes," Pierre replied, and went on with what was in his mind.
"Nicholas says we ought not to think. But I can't help it. Besides, when I
was in Petersburg I felt (I can this to you) that the whole affair would go to
pieces without me- everyone was pulling his own way. But I succeeded in uniting
them all; and then my idea is so clear and simple. You see, I don't say that we
ought to oppose this and that. We may be mistaken. What I say is: 'Join hands,
you who love the right, and let there be but one banner- that of active virtue.'
Prince Sergey is a fine fellow and clever." |
|
|
Natasha would have had no doubt as to the greatness of Pierre's idea, but
one thing disconcerted her. "Can a man so important and necessary to
society be also my husband? How did this happen?" She wished to express
this doubt to him. "Now who could decide whether he is really cleverer than
all the others?" she asked herself, and passed in review all those whom
Pierre most respected. Judging by what he had said there was no one he had
respected so highly as Platon Karataev. |
|
|
"Do you know what I am thinking about?" she asked. "About
Platon Karataev. Would he have approved of you now, do you think?" |
|
|
Pierre was not at all surprised at this question. He understood his
wife's line of thought. |
|
|
"Platon Karataev?" he repeated, and pondered, evidently
sincerely trying to imagine Karataev's opinion on the subject. "He would
not have understood... yet perhaps he would." |
|
|
"I love you awfully!" Natasha suddenly said. "Awfully,
awfully!" |
|
|
"No, he would not have approved," said Pierre, after
reflection. "What he would have approved of is our family life. He was
always so anxious to find seemliness, happiness, and peace in everything, and I
should have been proud to let him see us. There now- you talk of my absence, but
you wouldn't believe what a special feeling I have for you after a
separation...." |
|
|
"Yes, I should think..." Natasha began. |
|
|
"No, it's not that. I never leave off loving you. And one couldn't
love more, but this is something special.... Yes, of course-" he did not
finish because their eyes meeting said the rest. |
|
|
"What nonsense it is," Natasha suddenly exclaimed, "about
honeymoons, and that the greatest happiness is at first! On the contrary, now is
the best of all. If only you did not go away! Do you remember how we quarreled?
And it was always my fault. Always mine. And what we quarreled about- I don't
even remember!" |
|
|
"Always about the same thing," said Pierre with a smile.
"Jealo..." |
|
|
"Don't say it! I can't bear it!" Natasha cried, and her eyes
glittered coldly and vindictively. "Did you see her?" she added, after
a pause. |
|
|
"No, and if I had I shouldn't have recognized her." |
|
|
They were silent for a while. |
|
|
"Oh, do you know? While you were talking in the study I was looking
at you," Natasha began, evidently anxious to disperse the cloud that had
come over them. "You are as like him as two peas- like the boy." (She
meant her little son.) "Oh, it's time to go to him.... The milk's come....
But I'm sorry to leave you." |
|
|
They were silent for a few seconds. Then suddenly turning to one another
at the same time they both began to speak. Pierre began with self-satisfaction
and enthusiasm, Natasha with a quiet, happy smile. Having interrupted one
another they both stopped to let the other continue. |
|
|
"No. What did you say? Go on, go on." |
|
|
"No, you go on, I was talking nonsense," said Natasha. |
|
|
Pierre finished what he had begun. It was the sequel to his complacent
reflections on his success in Petersburg. At that moment it seemed to him that
he was chosen to give a new direction to the whole of Russian society and to the
whole world. |
|
|
"I only wished to say that ideas that have great results are always
simple ones. My whole idea is that if vicious people are united and constitute a
power, then honest folk must do the same. Now that's simple enough." |
|
|
"Yes." |
|
|
"And what were you going to say?" |
|
|
"I? Only nonsense." |
|
|
"But all the same?" |
|
|
"Oh nothing, only a trifle," said Natasha, smilingly still more
brightly. "I only wanted to tell you about Petya: today nurse was coming to
take him from me, and he laughed, shut his eyes, and clung to me. I'm sure he
thought he was hiding. Awfully sweet! There, now he's crying. Well,
good-by!" and she left the room. |
|
|
Meanwhile downstairs in young Nicholas Bolkonski's bedroom a little lamp
was burning as usual. (The boy was afraid of the dark and they could not cure
him of it.) Dessalles slept propped up on four pillows and his Roman nose
emitted sounds of rhythmic snoring. Little Nicholas, who had just waked up in a
cold perspiration, sat up in bed and gazed before him with wide-open eyes. He
had awaked from a terrible dream. He had dreamed that he and Uncle Pierre,
wearing helmets such as were depicted in his Plutarch, were leading a huge army.
The army was made up of white slanting lines that filled the air like the
cobwebs that float about in autumn and which Dessalles called les fils de la
Vierge. In front was Glory, which was similar to those threads but rather
thicker. He and Pierre were borne along lightly and joyously, nearer and nearer
to their goal. Suddenly the threads that moved them began to slacken and become
entangled and it grew difficult to move. And Uncle Nicholas stood before them in
a stern and threatening attitude. |
|
|
"Have you done this?" he said, pointing to some broken sealing
wax and pens. "I loved you, but I have orders from Arakcheev and will kill
the first of you who moves forward." Little Nicholas turned to look at
Pierre but Pierre was no longer there. In his place was his father- Prince
Andrew- and his father had neither shape nor form, but he existed, and when
little Nicholas perceived him he grew faint with love: he felt himself
powerless, limp, and formless. His father caressed and pitied him. But Uncle
Nicholas came nearer and nearer to them. Terror seized young Nicholas and he
awoke. |
|
|
"My father!" he thought. (Though there were two good portraits
of Prince Andrew in the house, Nicholas never imagined him in human form.)
"My father has been with me and caressed me. He approved of me and of Uncle
Pierre. Whatever he may tell me, I will do it. Mucius Scaevola burned his hand.
Why should not the same sort of thing happen to me? I know they want me to
learn. And I will learn. But someday I shall have finished learning, and then I
will do something. I only pray God that something may happen to me such as
happened to Plutarch's men, and I will act as they did. I will do better.
Everyone shall know me, love me, and be delighted with me!" And suddenly
his bosom heaved with sobs and he began to cry. |
|
|
"Are you ill?" he heard Dessalles' voice asking. |
|
|
"No," answered Nicholas, and lay back on his pillow. |
|
|
"He
is good and kind and I am fond of him!" he thought of Dessalles. "But
Uncle Pierre! Oh, what a wonderful man he is! And my father? Oh, Father, Father!
Yes, I will do something with which even he would be satisfied...." |
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