“Well, Prince, so Genoa and Lucca are now just family estates of the
Buonapartes. But I warn you, if you don’t tell me that this means war, if
you still try to defend the infamies and horrors perpetrated by that
Antichrist—I really believe he is Antichrist—I will have
nothing more to do with you and you are no longer my friend, no longer my
‘faithful slave,’ as you call yourself! But how do you do? I see I have
frightened you—sit down and tell me all the news.”
It was in July, 1805, and the speaker was the well-known Anna Pávlovna
Schérer, maid of honor and favorite of the Empress Márya Fëdorovna. With
these words she greeted Prince Vasíli Kur&... (From: Gutenberg.org.)
Anna Pávlovna’s drawing room was gradually filling. The highest Petersburg
society was assembled there: people differing widely in age and character
but alike in the social circle to which they belonged. Prince Vasíli’s
daughter, the beautiful Hélène, came to take her father to the
ambassador’s entertainment; she wore a ball dress and her badge as maid of
honor. The youthful little Princess Bolkónskaya, known as la femme la
plus séduisante de Pétersbourg, * was also there. She had been married
during the previous winter, and being pregnant did not go to any large
gatherings, but only to small receptions. Prince Vasíli’s son, Hippolyte,
had come... (From: Gutenberg.org.)
Anna Pávlovna’s reception was in full swing. The spindles hummed steadily
and ceaselessly on all sides. With the exception of the aunt, beside whom
sat only one elderly lady, who with her thin careworn face was rather out
of place in this brilliant society, the whole company had settled into
three groups. One, chiefly masculine, had formed round the abbé. Another,
of young people, was grouped round the beautiful Princess Hélène, Prince
Vasíli’s daughter, and the little Princess Bolkónskaya, very pretty and
rosy, though rather too plump for her age. The third group was gathered
round Mortemart and Anna Pávlovna.
The vicomte was a nice-looking young man with soft fe... (From: Gutenberg.org.)
Just then another visitor entered the drawing room: Prince Andrew
Bolkónski, the little princess’ husband. He was a very handsome young man,
of medium height, with firm, clearcut features. Everything about him, from
his weary, bored expression to his quiet, measured step, offered a most
striking contrast to his quiet, little wife. It was evident that he not
only knew everyone in the drawing room, but had found them to be so
tiresome that it wearied him to look at or listen to them. And among all
these faces that he found so tedious, none seemed to bore him so much as
that of his pretty wife. He turned away from her with a grimace that
distorted his handsome face, kissed Anna Pávlovna’s hand, and s... (From: Gutenberg.org.)
“And what do you think of this latest comedy, the coronation at Milan?”
asked Anna Pávlovna, “and of the comedy of the people of Genoa and Lucca
laying their petitions before Monsieur Buonaparte, and Monsieur Buonaparte
sitting on a throne and granting the petitions of the nations? Adorable!
It is enough to make one’s head whirl! It is as if the whole world had
gone crazy.”
Prince Andrew looked Anna Pávlovna straight in the face with a sarcastic
smile.
“‘Dieu me la donne, gare à qui la touche!’’ * They say he was very
fine when he said that,” he remarked, repeating the words in Italian: “‘Dio
mi l’ha dato. Guai a chi la tocch... (From: Gutenberg.org.)
Having thanked Anna Pávlovna for her charming soiree, the guests began to
take their leave.
Pierre was ungainly. Stout, about the average height, broad, with huge red
hands; he did not know, as the saying is, how to enter a drawing room and
still less how to leave one; that is, how to say something particularly
agreeable before going away. Besides this he was absent-minded. When he
rose to go, he took up instead of his own, the general’s three-cornered
hat, and held it, pulling at the plume, till the general asked him to
restore it. All his absent-mindedness and inability to enter a room and
converse in it was, however, redeemed by his kindly, simple, and modest
expression. Anna Pávlovna turned toward ... (From: Gutenberg.org.)
The rustle of a woman’s dress was heard in the next room. Prince Andrew
shook himself as if waking up, and his face assumed the look it had had in
Anna Pávlovna’s drawing room. Pierre removed his feet from the sofa. The
princess came in. She had changed her gown for a house dress as fresh and
elegant as the other. Prince Andrew rose and politely placed a chair for
her.
“How is it,” she began, as usual in French, settling down briskly and
fussily in the easy chair, “how is it Annette never got married? How
stupid you men all are not to have married her! Excuse me for saying so,
but you have no sense about women. What an argumentative fellow you are,
Monsieur Pierre!”
“And I... (From: Gutenberg.org.)
The friends were silent. Neither cared to begin talking. Pierre
continually glanced at Prince Andrew; Prince Andrew rubbed his forehead
with his small hand.
“Let us go and have supper,” he said with a sigh, going to the door.
They entered the elegant, newly decorated, and luxurious dining room.
Everything from the table napkins to the silver, china, and glass bore
that imprint of newness found in the households of the newly married.
Halfway through supper Prince Andrew leaned his elbows on the table and,
with a look of nervous agitation such as Pierre had never before seen on
his face, began to talk—as one who has long had something on his
mind and suddenly determines to speak out.
“Never, never ma... (From: Gutenberg.org.)
It was past one o’clock when Pierre left his friend. It was a cloudless,
northern, summer night. Pierre took an open cab intending to drive
straight home. But the nearer he drew to the house the more he felt the
impossibility of going to sleep on such a night. It was light enough to
see a long way in the deserted street and it seemed more like morning or
evening than night. On the way Pierre remembered that Anatole Kurágin was
expecting the usual set for cards that evening, after which there was
generally a drinking bout, finishing with visits of a kind Pierre was very
fond of.
“I should like to go to Kurágin’s,” thought he.
But he immediately recalled his promise to Prince Andrew not ... (From: Gutenberg.org.)
Prince Vasíli kept the promise he had given to Princess Drubetskáya who
had spoken to him on behalf of her only son Borís on the evening of Anna
Pávlovna’s soiree. The matter was mentioned to the Emperor, an exception
made, and Borís transferred into the regiment of Semënov Guards with the
rank of cornet. He received, however, no appointment to Kutúzov’s staff
despite all Anna Mikháylovna’s endeavors and entreaties. Soon after Anna
Pávlovna’s reception Anna Mikháylovna returned to Moscow and went straight
to her rich relations, the Rostóvs, with whom she stayed when in the town
and where her darling Bóry, who had only ju... (From: Gutenberg.org.)
Silence ensued. The countess looked at her callers, smiling affably, but
not concealing the fact that she would not be distressed if they now rose
and took their leave. The visitor’s daughter was already smoothing down
her dress with an inquiring look at her mother, when suddenly from the
next room were heard the footsteps of boys and girls running to the door
and the noise of a chair falling over, and a girl of thirteen, hiding
something in the folds of her short muslin frock, darted in and stopped
short in the middle of the room. It was evident that she had not intended
her flight to bring her so far. Behind her in the doorway appeared a
student with a crimson coat collar, an officer of the Guards, a girl of
fift... (From: Gutenberg.org.)
The only young people remaining in the drawing room, not counting the
young lady visitor and the countess’ eldest daughter (who was four years
older than her sister and behaved already like a grown-up person), were
Nicholas and Sónya, the niece. Sónya was a slender little brunet with a
tender look in her eyes which were veiled by long lashes, thick black
plaits coiling twice round her head, and a tawny tint in her complexion
and especially in the color of her slender but graceful and muscular arms
and neck. By the grace of her movements, by the softness and flexibility
of her small limbs, and by a certain coyness and reserve of manner, she
reminded one of a pretty, half-grown kitten which promises to be... (From: Gutenberg.org.)
When Natásha ran out of the drawing room she only went as far as the
conservatory. There she paused and stood listening to the conversation in
the drawing room, waiting for Borís to come out. She was already growing
impatient, and stamped her foot, ready to cry at his not coming at once,
when she heard the young man’s discreet steps approaching neither quickly
nor slowly. At this Natásha dashed swiftly among the flower tubs and hid
there.
Borís paused in the middle of the room, looked round, brushed a little
dust from the sleeve of his uniform, and going up to a mirror examined his
handsome face. Natásha, very still, peered out from her ambush, waiting to
see what he would do. He s... (From: Gutenberg.org.)
After receiving her visitors, the countess was so tired that she gave
orders to admit no more, but the porter was told to be sure to invite to
dinner all who came “to congratulate.” The countess wished to have a
tête-à-tête talk with the friend of her childhood, Princess Anna
Mikháylovna, whom she had not seen properly since she returned from
Petersburg. Anna Mikháylovna, with her tear-worn but pleasant face, drew
her chair nearer to that of the countess.
“With you I will be quite frank,” said Anna Mikháylovna. “There are not
many left of us old friends! That’s why I so value your friendship.”
Anna Mikháylovna looked at Véra and p... (From: Gutenberg.org.)
“My dear Borís,” said Princess Anna Mikháylovna to her son as Countess
Rostóva’s carriage in which they were seated drove over the straw covered
street and turned into the wide courtyard of Count Cyril Vladímirovich
Bezúkhov’s house. “My dear Borís,” said the mother, drawing her hand from
beneath her old mantle and laying it timidly and tenderly on her son’s
arm, “be affectionate and attentive to him. Count Cyril Vladímirovich is
your godfather after all, and your future depends on him. Remember that, my
dear, and be nice to him, as you so well know how to be.”
“If only I knew that anything besides humiliation would co... (From: Gutenberg.org.)
Pierre, after all, had not managed to choose a career for himself in
Petersburg, and had been expelled from there for riotous conduct and sent
to Moscow. The story told about him at Count Rostóv’s was true. Pierre had
taken part in tying a policeman to a bear. He had now been for some days
in Moscow and was staying as usual at his father’s house. Though he
expected that the story of his escapade would be already known in Moscow
and that the ladies about his father—who were never favorably
disposed toward him—would have used it to turn the count against
him, he nevertheless on the day of his arrival went to his father’s part
of the house. Entering the drawing room, where the princesses s... (From: Gutenberg.org.)
After Anna Mikháylovna had driven off with her son to visit Count Cyril
Vladímirovich Bezúkhov, Countess Rostóva sat for a long time all alone
applying her handkerchief to her eyes. At last she rang.
“What is the matter with you, my dear?” she said crossly to the maid who
kept her waiting some minutes. “Don’t you wish to serve me? Then I’ll find
you another place.”
The countess was upset by her friend’s sorrow and humiliating poverty, and
was therefore out of sorts, a state of mind which with her always found
expression in calling her maid “my dear” and speaking to her with
exaggerated politeness.
“I am very sorry, ma’am,” an... (From: Gutenberg.org.)
Countess Rostóva, with her daughters and a large number of guests, was
already seated in the drawing room. The count took the gentlemen into his
study and showed them his choice collection of Turkish pipes. From time to
time he went out to ask: “Hasn’t she come yet?” They were
expecting Márya Dmítrievna Akhrosímova, known in society as le terrible
dragon, a lady distinguished not for wealth or rank, but for common sense and
frank plainness of speech. Márya Dmítrievna was known to the Imperial family as
well as to all Moscow and Petersburg, and both cities wondered at her,
laughed privately at her rudenesses, and told good stories about her,
while none the less all... (From: Gutenberg.org.)
At the men’s end of the table the talk grew more and more animated. The
colonel told them that the declaration of war had already appeared in
Petersburg and that a copy, which he had himself seen, had that day been
forwarded by courier to the commander in chief.
“And why the deuce are we going to fight Bonaparte?” remarked Shinshín.
“He has stopped Austria’s cackle and I fear it will be our turn next.”
The colonel was a stout, tall, plethoric German, evidently devoted to the
service and patriotically Russian. He resented Shinshín’s remark.
“It is for the reasson, my goot sir,” said he, speaking with a German
accent, “for the reasson zat ze Emperor knows... (From: Gutenberg.org.)
The card tables were drawn out, sets made up for boston, and the count’s
visitors settled themselves, some in the two drawing rooms, some in the
sitting room, some in the library.
The count, holding his cards fanwise, kept himself with difficulty from
dropping into his usual after-dinner nap, and laughed at everything. The
young people, at the countess’ instigation, gathered round the clavichord
and harp. Julie by general request played first. After she had played a
little air with variations on the harp, she joined the other young ladies
in begging Natásha and Nicholas, who were noted for their musical talent,
to sing something. Natásha, who was treated as though she were grown up,
was evidently... (From: Gutenberg.org.)
While in the Rostóvs’ ballroom the sixth anglaise was being danced,
to a tune in which the weary musicians blundered, and while tired footmen
and cooks were getting the supper, Count Bezúkhov had a sixth stroke. The
doctors pronounced recovery impossible. After a mute confession, communion
was administered to the dying man, preparations made for the sacrament of
unction, and in his house there was the bustle and thrill of suspense
usual at such moments. Outside the house, beyond the gates, a group of
undertakers, who hid whenever a carriage drove up, waited in expectation
of an important order for an expensive funeral. The Military Governor of
Moscow, who had been assiduous in sending aides-de-camp to i... (From: Gutenberg.org.)
While these conversations were going on in the reception room and the
princess’ room, a carriage containing Pierre (who had been sent for) and
Anna Mikháylovna (who found it necessary to accompany him) was driving
into the court of Count Bezúkhov’s house. As the wheels rolled softly over
the straw beneath the windows, Anna Mikháylovna, having turned with words
of comfort to her companion, realized that he was asleep in his corner and
woke him up. Rousing himself, Pierre followed Anna Mikháylovna out of the
carriage, and only then began to think of the interview with his dying
father which awaited him. He noticed that they had not come to the front
entrance but to the back door. While... (From: Gutenberg.org.)
Pierre well knew this large room divided by columns and an arch, its walls
hung round with Persian carpets. The part of the room behind the columns,
with a high silk-curtained mahogany bedstead on one side and on the other
an immense case containing icons, was brightly illuminated with red light
like a Russian church during evening service. Under the gleaming icons
stood a long invalid chair, and in that chair on snowy-white smooth
pillows, evidently freshly changed, Pierre saw—covered to the waist
by a bright green quilt—the familiar, majestic figure of his father,
Count Bezúkhov, with that gray mane of hair above his broad forehead which
reminded one of a lion, and the deep characteristically noble wri... (From: Gutenberg.org.)
There was now no one in the reception room except Prince Vasíli and the
eldest princess, who were sitting under the portrait of Catherine the
Great and talking eagerly. As soon as they saw Pierre and his companion
they became silent, and Pierre thought he saw the princess hide something
as she whispered:
“I can’t bear the sight of that woman.”
“Catiche has had tea served in the small drawing room,” said Prince Vasíli
to Anna Mikháylovna. “Go and take something, my poor Anna Mikháylovna, or
you will not hold out.”
To Pierre he said nothing, merely giving his arm a sympathetic squeeze
below the shoulder. Pierre went with Anna Mikháylovna into the sma... (From: Gutenberg.org.)
At Bald Hills, Prince Nicholas Andréevich Bolkónski’s estate, the arrival
of young Prince Andrew and his wife was daily expected, but this
expectation did not upset the regular routine of life in the old prince’s
household. General in Chief Prince Nicholas Andréevich (nicknamed in
society, “the King of Prussia”) ever since the Emperor Paul had exiled him
to his country estate had lived there continuously with his daughter,
Princess Mary, and her companion, Mademoiselle Bourienne. Though in the
new reign he was free to return to the capitals, he still continued to
live in the country, remarking that anyone who wanted to see him could
come the hundred miles from Moscow to Bald Hil... (From: Gutenberg.org.)
The gray-haired valet was sitting drowsily listening to the snoring of the
prince, who was in his large study. From the far side of the house through
the closed doors came the sound of difficult passages—twenty times
repeated—of a sonata by Dussek.
Just then a closed carriage and another with a hood drove up to the porch.
Prince Andrew got out of the carriage, helped his little wife to alight,
and let her pass into the house before him. Old Tíkhon, wearing a wig, put
his head out of the door of the antechamber, reported in a whisper that
the prince was sleeping, and hastily closed the door. Tíkhon knew that
neither the son’s arrival nor any other unusual event must be allowed to
disturb the... (From: Gutenberg.org.)
At the appointed hour the prince, powdered and shaven, entered the dining
room where his daughter-in-law, Princess Mary, and Mademoiselle Bourienne
were already awaiting him together with his architect, who by a strange
caprice of his employer’s was admitted to table though the position of
that insignificant individual was such as could certainly not have caused
him to expect that honor. The prince, who generally kept very strictly to
social distinctions and rarely admitted even important government
officials to his table, had unexpectedly selected Michael Ivánovich (who
always went into a corner to blow his nose on his checked handkerchief) to
illustrate the theory that all men are equals, and had more than o... (From: Gutenberg.org.)
Prince Andrew was to leave next evening. The old prince, not altering his
routine, retired as usual after dinner. The little princess was in her
sister-in-law’s room. Prince Andrew in a traveling coat without epaulets
had been packing with his valet in the rooms assigned to him. After
inspecting the carriage himself and seeing the trunks put in, he ordered
the horses to be harnessed. Only those things he always kept with him
remained in his room; a small box, a large canteen fitted with silver
plate, two Turkish pistols and a saber—a present from his father who
had brought it from the siege of Ochákov. All these traveling effects of
Prince Andrew’s were in very good order: new, clean, and in cloth ... (From: Gutenberg.org.)
In October, 1805, a Russian army was occupying the villages and towns of
the Archduchy of Austria, and yet other regiments freshly arriving from
Russia were settling near the fortress of Braunau and burdening the
inhabitants on whom they were quartered. Braunau was the headquarters of
the commander in chief, Kutúzov.
On October 11, 1805, one of the infantry regiments that had just reached
Braunau had halted half a mile from the town, waiting to be inspected by
the commander in chief. Despite the un-Russian appearance of the locality
and surroundings—fruit gardens, stone fences, tiled roofs, and hills
in the distance—and despite the fact that the inhabitants (who gazed
with curiosity at the soldiers) wer... (From: Gutenberg.org.)
“He’s coming!” shouted the signaler at that moment.
The regimental commander, flushing, ran to his horse, seized the stirrup
with trembling hands, threw his body across the saddle, righted himself,
drew his saber, and with a happy and resolute countenance, opening his
mouth awry, prepared to shout. The regiment fluttered like a bird preening
its plumage and became motionless.
“Att-ention!” shouted the regimental commander in a soul-shaking voice
which expressed joy for himself, severity for the regiment, and welcome
for the approaching chief.
Along the broad country road, edged on both sides by trees, came a high,
light blue Viennese calèche, slightly creaking on its springs and
drawn ... (From: Gutenberg.org.)
