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 WAR AND PEACE 
 
 BY 
 
 COUNT LYOF N. TOLSTOI 
 
 FROM THE RUSSIAN BY 
 
 NATHAN HASKELL DOLE 
 
 A VTHORIZED TRANSLA TION 
 
 IN FOUK VOLUMES 
 VOL. Ill 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 THOMAS Y. CROWELL & COMPANY 
 PUBLISHERS
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1889, BY 
 T. Y. CROWELL & CO. 
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1917, BY 
 NATHAN HASKELL DOLE
 
 
 
 il 
 
 3 
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 VOL. III. PART FIRST. 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 TOWARD the end of the year 1811, a tremendous armament 
 and concentration of forces took place in Western Europe ; 
 and in 1812, these forces millions of men, counting those 
 who were concerned in the transport and victualling of the 
 armies were moved from west to east toward the borders of 
 Russia, where the Russian forces were drawn up just as they 
 had been the year before. 
 
 On the 24th of June, the forces of Western Europe crossed 
 the Russian frontier, and war began : in other words, an event 
 took place opposed to human reason and human nature. 
 
 Millions of men committed against one another an infinite 
 number of crimes : deception, treachery, robbery, forgery, 
 issues of false assignats, depredations, incendiary fires, mur- 
 ders, such as the annals of all the courts in all the world could 
 not equal in the aggregate of centuries ; and yet which, at 
 that period, the perpetrators did not even regard as crimes. 
 
 What brought about this extraordinary event ? 
 
 What were its causes ? 
 
 The historians, with naive credulity, assure us that the 
 causes of this event are to be found in the affront offered to 
 the Duke of Oldenbourg, in the disregard of the " Continental 
 System," in Napoleon's ambition, Alexander's firmness, the 
 mistakes of diplomatists, and what not. 
 
 Of course, in that case, to put a stop to the war, it would 
 have merely required Metternich, Rumyantsef, or Talleyrand, 
 between a levee and a rout, to have made a little effort and 
 skilfully composed a state paper; or, Napoleon to have 
 written to Alexander: Monsieur, mon Fr&re, je consens a 
 rendre le duche au Due d' Oldenbourg. 
 
 It is easily understood that the matter presented itself in 
 that light to the men of that day. It is easily understood 
 
 VOL. a. i. 1
 
 2 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 that Napoleon attributed the cause of the war to England's 
 intrigues (indeed, he said so on the island of St. Helena) ; it 
 is easily understood that the members of the British Parlia- 
 ment attributed the cause of the war to Napoleon's ambition ; 
 that Prince Oldenbourg considered the war to have been 
 caused by the insult which he had received ; that the mer- 
 chants regarded the " Continental System," which was ruining 
 European trade, as responsible for it ; that old veterans and 
 generals saw the chief cause for it in the necessity to find 
 them something to do ; the legitimists of that day, in the 
 necessity of upholding les ban princlpes ; and the diplomatists 
 in the fact that they had not been skilful enough to hoodwink 
 Napoleon in regard to the Russian alliance with Austria in 
 1809, or that it had been aAvkward to draw up memorandum 
 No. 178. 
 
 It is easily understood that these, and an endless number of 
 other reasons the diversity of which is simply proportioned to 
 the infinite diversity of standpoints satisfied the men who 
 were living at that time ; but for us, Posterity, who are far 
 enough removed to contemplate the magnitude of the event 
 from a wider perspective, and who seek to fathom its simple and 
 terrible meaning, such reasons appear insufficient. To us it is 
 incomprehensible that millions of Christian men killed and tor- 
 tured each other because Napoleon was ambitious, Alexander 
 firm ; English policy, astute ; and Duke Oldenbourg, affronted. 
 It is impossible to comprehend what connection these circum- 
 stances have with the fact itself of murder and violence : why, 
 in consequence of the affront put upon the duke, thousands 
 of men from the other end of Europe should have killed and 
 plundered the people of the governments of Smolensk and 
 Moscow, and have been killed by them. 
 
 For us, Posterity, who are not historians, and not carried 
 away by any far-fetched processes of reasoning, and who can, 
 therefore, contemplate the phenomena with unclouded and 
 healthy vision, the causes thereof arise before us in all their 
 innumerable quantity. The deeper we delve into the investi- 
 gation of causes, the more numerous do they open up before 
 us ; and every separately considered cause, or whole series of 
 causes, appears equally efficient in its own nature, and equally 
 fallacious by reason of its utter insignificance in comparison 
 with the prodigiousness of the events ; and equally fallacious 
 also by reason of its inability, without the co-operation of all 
 the other causes combined, to produce the events in question. 
 
 Such a cause as the refusal of the Napoleon to draw his
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 3 
 
 army back within the Vistula, and to restore the duchy of 
 Oldenbourg, has as much weight in this consideration .as the 
 willingness or unwillingness of a single French corporal to 
 take part in the campaign ; whereas, if he had refused, and a 
 second, and a third, and a thousand corporals and soldiers had 
 likewise refused, Napoleon's army would have been so greatly 
 reduced that the war could not have occurred. 
 
 If Napoleon had not been offended by the demand to retire 
 his troops beyond the Vistula, and had not issued orders for 
 them to give battle, there would have been no war ; but if all 
 the sergeants had refused to go into action, there also would 
 have been no war. And there would also have been no war if 
 there had been no English intrigues, and 110 Prince Oldenbourg ; 
 and if Alexander had not felt himself aggrieved ; and if there 
 had been no autocratic power in Russia; and if there had been 
 no French Revolution, and no Dictatorship, and Empire follow- 
 ing it j and nothing of all that led up to the Revolution, and so 
 on. Had any one of these causes been missing, war could 
 have taken place. Consequently, all of them milliards 
 of causes must have co-operated to bring about what re- 
 sulted. 
 
 And, as a corollary, there could have been no exclusive final 
 cause for these events ; and the great event was accomplished 
 simply because it had to be accomplished. And so millions of 
 men, renouncing all their human feelings, and their reason, 
 had to march from west to east, and kill their fellows ; exactly 
 the same as, several centuries before, swarms of men had swept 
 from east to west, likewise killing their fellows. 
 
 The deeds of Napoleon and Alexander, on whose fiat appar- 
 ently depended this or that occurrence, were just as far from 
 being spontaneous and free as the actions of the merest sol- 
 dier taking part in the expedition, either as a conscript or as 
 recruit. This was inevitably the case, because, in order that 
 Napoleon's or Alexander's will should be executed they be- 
 ing apparently the men on whom the event depended the 
 co-operation of countless factors was requisite, one of which 
 failing, the event could not have occurred. It was indispensa- 
 ble that millions of men, in whose hands was really all the 
 power, soldiers who fought, and men who transported muni- 
 tions of war and cannon, should consent to carry out the will 
 of these two feeble human units ; and they were brought 
 to this by an endless number of complicated and varied 
 causes. 
 
 Fatalism in history is inevitable, if we would explain its il-
 
 i WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 logical phenomena (that is to say, those events the reason for 
 which. is beyond our comprehension). The more \ve strive by 
 our reason to explain these phenomena in history, the more 
 illogical and incomprehensible to 'us they become. 
 
 Every man lives for himself, and enjoys sufficient freedom 
 for the attainment of his own personal ends, and is conscious 
 in his whole being that he can instantly perform or refuse to 
 perform any action ; but as soon as he has done it, this action, 
 accomplished in a definite period of time, becomes irrevocable 
 and forms an element in history, in which it takes its place 
 with a fully pre-ordained and no longer capricious significance. 
 
 Every man has a twofold life : on one side is his personal 
 life, which is free in proportion as its interests are abstract ; 
 the other is life as an element, as one bee in the swarm ; and 
 here a man has no chance of disregarding the laws imposed 
 upon him. 
 
 Man consciously lives for himself ; but, at the same time, he 
 serves as an unconscious instrument for the accomplishment 
 of historical and social ends. An action once accomplished 
 is fixed ; and when a man's activity coincides with others, with 
 the millions of actions of other men, it acquires historical sig- 
 nificance. The higher a man stands on the social ladder, the 
 more men he is connected with ; the greater the influence he 
 exerts over others, the more evident is the predestined and 
 unavoidable necessity of his every action. 
 
 " The king's heart is in the hand of the Lord." 
 
 The king is the slave of history. 
 
 History, that is to say, the unconscious, universal life of 
 humanity, in the aggregate, every moment profits by the life 
 of kings for itself, as an instrument for the accomplishment of 
 its own ends. 
 
 Napoleon, though never before had it seemed so evident to 
 him as now in this year. 1809, that it depended upon him 
 whether he should shed or not shed the blood of his people 
 verser le sany de ses peuples, as Alexander expressed it in his 
 last letter to him was in reality never before so subordinated 
 to the inevitable laws which compelled him even while, as it 
 seemed to him, working in accordance with his own freewill 
 to accomplish for the world in general, for history, what was 
 destined to be accomplished. 
 
 The men of the West moved toward the East so as to kill 
 each other. And, by the law of co-ordination, thousands 
 of trifling causes made themselves into the guise of final
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 5 
 
 causes, and coinciding with this event, apparently explained 
 this movement and this war : the dissatisfaction with the 
 " Continental System ; " and the Duke of Oldenbourg ; and the 
 invasion of Prussia, undertaken (as it seemed to Napoleon) 
 simply for the purpose of bringing about an armed neutrality ; 
 and the French Emperor's love and habit of war coinciding with 
 the disposition of his people ; the attraction of grander prepa- 
 rations, and the outlays for such preparations, and the necessity 
 for indemnities for meeting these outlays ; and the intoxicat- 
 ing honors paid at Dresden ; and the diplomatic negotiations 
 which, in the opinion of contemporaries, were conducted with a 
 sincere desire to preserve peace, but which merely offended the 
 pride of either side ; and millions and millions of other causes, 
 serving as specious reasons for this event which had taken 
 place, and coinciding with it. 
 
 When an apple is ripe and falls, what makes it fall ? Is it 
 the attraction of gravitation ? or is it b?cause its stem withers ? 
 or because the sun dries it up ? or because it is heavy ? or 
 because the wind shakes it ? or because the small boy standing 
 underneath is hungry for it ? 
 
 There is no such proximate cause. The whole thing is the 
 result of all those conditions, in accordance with which every 
 vital, organic, complex event occurs. And the botanist who 
 argues that the apple fell from the effect of decomposing vege- 
 table tissue, or the like, is just as much in the right as the boy 
 who, standing below, declares that the apple fell because he 
 wanted to eat it, and prayed for it. 
 
 Equally right and equally wrong would be the one who 
 should say that Napoleon went to Moscow because he wanted 
 to go, and was. ruined because Alexander wished him to be 
 ruined ; equally right and equally wrong would be the man who 
 should declare that a mountain, weighing millions of tons and 
 undermined, fell in consequence of the last blow of the mat- 
 tock dealt by the last laborer. In the events of history, so- 
 called great men are merely tags that supply a name to the 
 event, and have quite as little connection with the event itself 
 as the tag. 
 
 Every one of their actions, though apparently performed by 
 their own free will, is, in its historical significance, out of the 
 scope of volition, and is correlated with the whole trend of his- 
 tory ; and is, consequently, pre-ordained from all eternity,
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 ON the 10th of June, Napoleon, started from Dresden, where 
 he had been for three weeks the centre of a court composed of 
 princes, dukes, kings, and at least one emperor. 
 
 Before his departure, Napoleon showed his favor to the 
 princes, kings, and the emperor, who deserved it : he turned a 
 cold shoulder on the kings and princes who had incurred his 
 displeasure; he gave the Empress of Austria pearls and dia- 
 monds, which he called his own, though they had been stolen 
 from other kings, and then tenderly embracing the Empress 
 Maria Louisa, as the historian terms her, left her heart-broken 
 by his absence, which it seemed to her, now that she considered 
 herself his consort, although he had another consort left behind 
 in Paris, was too hard to be endured. 
 
 Although the diplomats stoutly maintained their belief 
 in the possibility of peace, and were working heartily for this 
 end ; although Napoleon himself wrote a letter to the Emperor 
 Alexander, calling him Monsieur, mon Frere, and sincerely assur- 
 ing him that he had no desire for war, and that he should 
 always love and respect him ; still, he was off for the army, 
 and at every station was issuing new rescripts having in view 
 to expedite the movement of the troops from west to east. 
 
 He travelled in a calash drawn by six horses, and accom- 
 panied by his pages, aides, and an -escort, and took the route 
 through Posen, Thorn, Dantzic, and Konigsberg. The army 
 was moving from the west to the east, and relays of fresh horses 
 bore him in the same direction. On the 22d of June, he over- 
 took the army, and spent the night in the Wilkowisky forest, 
 on the estate^of a Polish count, where quarters had been made 
 ready for him. 
 
 On the following day Napoleon, outstripping the army, 
 drove to the Niemen in his calash ; and, for the purpose of 
 reconnoitring the spot where the army was to cross, he put 
 on a Polish uniform, and went down to the banks of the 
 river. 
 
 When he saw on the other side the Cossacks, and the wide- 
 stretching steppes, in the centre of which was Moscou, la ville 
 sainte, the capital of that empire, which reminded him of the 
 Scythian one, against which Alexander of Macedon had 
 marched, Napoleon, unexpectedly and contrary to all strategi- 
 cal as well as diplomatic considerations, gave orders for the
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 7 
 
 advance, and on the next day the troops began to cross the 
 Niemen. 
 
 Early on the morning of the twenty-fourth, he emerged 
 from his tent, which had been pitched on the steep left bank 
 of the river, and looked through his field-glass at the torrents 
 of his troops pouring forth from the Wilkowisky forest, and 
 streaming across the three bridges thrown over the Niemen. 
 
 The troops were aware of the presence of the emperor ; 
 they searched for him with their eyes, and when they discov- 
 ered him on the cliff, standing in front of his tent, and distin- 
 guished from his suite by his figure, in an overcoat and cocked 
 hat, they flung their caps in the air, and shouted, " Vive I'em- 
 pereur ! " and then, rank after rank, a never-ceasing stream, they 
 poured forth and still poured forth from the mighty forest 
 that till now had concealed them, and, dividing into three 
 currents, crossed over the bridges to the other side. 
 ' " Something'll be done this time ! Oh, when he takes a 
 hand, he makes things hot ! God save us. There he is ! 
 Hurrah for the emperor ! " 
 
 " So these are the Steppes of Asia ? Beastly country all 
 the same ! " 
 
 " Good-by ! Beauche, I'll save the best palace in Moscow 
 for you. Good-by ! Luck to you ! " 
 
 " Have you seen him ? The emperor ? Hurrah for the 
 emperor ror ror ! " 
 
 " If I am made Governor of India, Gerard, I'll appoint you 
 minister at Cashmir ; that's a settled thing." 
 
 " Hurrah for the emperor ! Hurrah ! hurrah ! hurrah ! " 
 
 " Those rascally Cossacks ! how they run ! Hurrah for the 
 emperor ! " 
 
 " There he is ! Do you see him ? Twice I've seen him as 
 plain as I see you, the l Little Corporal ! ' J 
 
 "I saw him give the cross to one of our vets. Hurrah for 
 the emperor ! " * 
 
 Such were the remarks and shouts made by men, both 
 young and old, of the most widely differing characters and 
 
 * " On fera du chemin cette fois-ci. Oh ' qiiand il s'en mele hit meme ca 
 chaujff'e. Nom de Dieu ! Le voila ! Vive I'empereur ! Les voila done 
 les Steppes de I'Asie ! Villain pays, tout de meme ! A revoir, Beauche ; je le 
 reserve le plus beau palais de Moscou. A revoir ! Bonne chance. L'as tu 
 vu, I'empereur? Vive I'empereur preur .' Si on me fait gouverneur 
 aux Indes, Gerard, je tefais ministre de Cachemir ; c'est arrete". Vive I'em- 
 pereur ! Vive! Vive! Vive! Ces gredins de Cosaques, comme Us filent ! 
 Vive I'empereur .' Le voila ! Le vois tu ? je I'ai vu deux fois comme je te 
 vois ! Le petit caporal ! Je I'ai vu donner la croix a I'un des vieux. Vive 
 temper eur .' "
 
 8 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 positions in the world. The faces of all these men bore one 
 aniversal expression of delight at the beginning of the long 
 expected campaign, and of enthusiasm and devotion for the 
 man in the gray overcoat, standing on the hill. 
 
 On the twenty-fifth of June a small thoroughbred Arab 
 steed was brought to Napoleon, and he mounted and set off at 
 a gallop down to one of the three bridges over the Niemen, 
 greeted all the way by enthusiastic acclamations, which he 
 evidently endured for the reason that it was impossible to 
 prevent the men from expressing by these shouts their love 
 for him ; but these acclamations, which accompanied him 
 wherever he went, fatigued him, and distracted his attention 
 from the military task that met him at the moment that he 
 reached the army. 
 
 He rode across the bridge that shook under his horse's 
 hoofs, and, on reaching the farther side, turned abruptly to 
 the left, and galloped off in the direction of Kovno, preceded 
 by his mounted guards, who, crazy with delight and enthu- 
 siasm, cleared the way for him through the troops pressing on 
 ahead. On reaching the broad river Vistula, he reined in his 
 horse near a regiment of Polish Uhlans, that was halted on 
 the bank. 
 
 " Hurrah ! " shouted the Polyaks, no less enthusiastically, 
 as they fell out of line, elbowing each other, in their efforts 
 to get a sight of him. Napoleon contemplated the river; then 
 dismounted and sat down on a log that happened to be lying 
 on the bank. At a mute signal, his telescope was handed 
 him ; he rested it on the shoulder of one of his pages, who 
 came forward beaming with delight, and began to reconnoitre 
 the other shore. Then he remained lost in study of a map 
 spread out over the driftwood. Without' lifting his head he 
 said something, and two of his aides galloped off toward the 
 Polish Uhlans. 
 
 " What was it ? What did he say ? " was heard in the 
 ranks of the Uhlans, as one of the aides came hurrying toward 
 them. 
 
 The order was that they should find a ford, and cross to the 
 other side. 
 
 The Polish colonel, who commanded the Uhlans, a hand- 
 some old man, flushing and stumbling in his speech from 
 excitement, asked the aide-de-camp whether he might be 
 permitted to swim the river with his men, instead of trying to 
 tind the ford. He was evidently as apprehensive of receiving 
 a refusal as a schoolboy who asks permission to ride on horse-
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 9 
 
 back ; and what he craved was the chance to swim the river 
 under his emperor's eyes. 
 
 The aide-de-camp replied that in all probability the em- 
 peror would not be displeased with this superfluity of 
 zeal. 
 
 As soon as the aide-de-camp had said this, the old musta- 
 chioed officer, with beaming face and gleaming eyes, waved his 
 sword and cried Vivat ! And ordering his Uhlans to follow 
 him, he plunged spurs into his horse and dashed down to the 
 river. He angrily struck the horse, that shied at the task, and 
 forced him into the water, striking out boldly into the swift 
 current where it was deepest. The water was cold, and the 
 swiftness of the current made the passage difficult. The 
 Uhlans clung to one another, in case they were dismounted 
 from their horses. Several of the horses were drowned, and 
 some of the men ; the others endeavored to swim, one clinging 
 to his saddle, another to his horse's mane. Their endeavor 
 was to swim to the farther side, and, although there was 
 a ford only half a verst below, they were proud of swim- 
 ming and drowning in that river under the eye of the man 
 sitting on the log, and not even noticing what they were 
 doing ! 
 
 When the aide-de-camp on his return found a favorable 
 moment, he allowed himself to call the emperor's attention to 
 the devotion of these Polyaks to his person. The little man 
 in the gray great-coat got up, and, calling Berthier, began to 
 walk with him back and forth on the river bank, giving him 
 orders, and occasionally casting a dissatisfied glance at the 
 drowning Uhlans, who distracted his attention. 
 
 It was nothing new in his experience that his presence any- 
 where, in the deserts of Africa as well as in the Moscovite 
 steppes, was sufficient to stimulate and drive men into the 
 most senseless self-sacrifice. He commanded a horse to be 
 brought, and rode back to his bivouac. 
 
 Forty Uhlans were drowned in the river, although boats 
 were sent to their aid. The majority gave up the task, and 
 returned to the hither side. The colonel and a few of the 
 men swam across the river, and with great difficulty crept up 
 on the farther shore. But as soon as they were on the land, 
 though their garments were streaming with water, they 
 shouted Vivat, gazing with rapture at the spot where Napoleon 
 had been, but from which he had vanished, and counting 
 themselves fortunate. 
 
 In the afternoon, after making arrangements for procuring
 
 10 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 with all possible despatch the counterfeit Russian assignats. 
 that had been prepared for use in Russia ; and after issuing an 
 order to shoot a certain Saxon, who, in a letter that had been 
 intercepted, gave information in regard to the disposition of 
 the French forces ; Napoleon, in still a third order, caused the 
 Polish colonel who had quite needlessly flung himself into the 
 river, to be enrolled in the Legion d'Honneur,* of which he him- 
 self was the head. 
 
 Quos vult perdere dementat.'f 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE Russian emperor, meantime, had been now for more 
 than a month at Vilno, superintending reviews and ma- 
 noeuvres. 
 
 Nothing was ready for the war, though all had foreseen that 
 it was coming, and though the emperor had left Petersburg 
 to prepare for it. The vacillation as to what plan, from among 
 the many that had been prepared, was to be selected, was still 
 more pronounced after the emperor had been for a month at 
 headquarters. 
 
 Each of the three divisions of the army had a separate com- 
 mander ; but there was no nachalnik, or responsible chief, over 
 all the forces ; and the emperor did not see fit to assume this 
 position. 
 
 The longer the emperor staid at Vilna, the less ready for 
 the war were they who had grown weary of expecting it. The 
 whole purpose of those who surrounded the sovereign seemed 
 directed toward making him pass the time agreeably, and for- 
 get about the impending conflict. 
 
 After a series of balls and festivities, given by Polish mag- 
 nates, and by the courtiers, and by the emperor himself, a 
 Polish adjutant proposed one fine June day, that the im- 
 perial staff should give a banquet and ball, in his majesty's 
 honor. 
 
 The suggestion was gladly adopted by all. The sovereign 
 g-ranted his sanction. The imperial adjutants collected the 
 necessary funds by a subscription. A lady, who it was thought 
 would be most acceptable to the emperor, was invited to do 
 the honors. Count Benigsen, a landed proprietor of the Viliiq 
 
 * Instituted by Napoleon, May 19, 1802 ; carried out, July 14, 1814. 
 t Those whom God wishes to destroy, he fia-st makes mad.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. \\ 
 
 government, tendered the use of his country house for the 
 festivity, which was set for the 25th of June ; and it was 
 decided that the ball and banquet, together with a regatta and 
 fireworks, should take place at Zakreto, Count Benigsen's 
 country place. 
 
 On that very day on which Napoleon gave orders to cross 
 the Niemen, and the vanguard of his army drove back the 
 Cossacks and set foot on Russian soil, Alexander was spend- 
 ing the evening at Count Benigsen's villa, at a ball given by 
 his staff ! 
 
 It was a gay, brilliant occasion. Connoisseurs in such mat- 
 ters declared that never before had so many pretty women 
 been gathered in one place. The Countess Bezukhaya, who, 
 with other Russian ladies, had followed the sovereign from 
 Petersburg to Vilno, was at this ball ; by her overwhelming 
 so-called Russian beauty quite putting into the shade the more 
 refined and delicate Polish ladies. She attracted much atten- 
 tion, and the sovereign did her the honor of dancing with 
 her. 
 
 Boris Drubetskoi, having left his wife at Moscow, was also 
 present at this ball^?i gar^on, as he expressed it j and, although 
 not on his majesty's staff, was a participant in the festivities 
 in virtue of having subscribed a large sum toward the expenses. 
 Boris was now a rich man, who had already arrived at high 
 honors, and now no longer required patronage ; but stood on 
 an equal footing with any of his own age, no matter how lofty 
 their rank might be. 
 
 He had met Ellen at Vilno, not having seen her for some 
 time ; but he made no reference to the past. But as Ellen 
 was "enjoying the favor" of a very influential individual, 
 and Boris had not long been married, it suited their purposes 
 to meet as good old friends. 
 
 At midnight, they were still dancing. Ellen, finding no 
 partner to her taste, had herself proposed to Boris to dance 
 the mazurka. They were in the third set. Boris, with cool in- 
 difference glancing at Ellen 7 s dazzling, bare shoulders, set off 
 by a dark gauze dress, shot with gold, was talking about old 
 acquaintances ; and, at the same time, neither he nor any one 
 else observed that, not for a single second, did he cease to 
 watch the emperor, who was in the same hall. 
 1 The emperor was not dancing : he was standing in the door- 
 way, and addressing, now to one and now to another, those 
 gracious words which % he, of all men alone, had the art of speak 
 ing. 
 
 -
 
 12 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 Just before the beginning of the mazurka, Boris noticed 
 that the General- Adjutant Balashof, who stood on terms of 
 special intimacy with the sovereign, approached him as he 
 was talking with a Polish lady, and, contrary to court etiquette, 
 stood waiting at a short distance from him. While still talk- 
 ing, the sovereign looked up inquiringly, and, evidently per- 
 ceiving that only weighty considerations would have caused 
 Balashof to act thus, he gave the lady a slight bow, and turned 
 to the adjutant. 
 
 At Balashof's very first words, an expression like amazement 
 came over the sovereign's face. He took Balashof's arm, and, 
 together with him, crossed the ballroom, so absorbed that he 
 did not notice how the company parted, making a sort of lane, 
 three sazhens wide, through which he passed. 
 
 Boris observed Arakcheyef's agitated face, as the sovereign 
 walked out with Balashof. Arakcheyef, looking askance at 
 the emperor, and snuffing through his red nose, moved out 
 from the throng, as though expecting that the sovereign would 
 address him. It was clear to Boris that Arakcheyef hated 
 Balashof, and was much dissatisfied that any news of impor- 
 tance should be brought to the sovereign otherwise than through 
 him. 
 
 But the sovereign, not heeding Arakcheyef, passed out. 
 together with Balashof, through the open door, into the br' 
 liantly illuminated garden. Arakcheyef, grasping the hilt 
 his sword, and viciously glancing around, followed th< 
 twenty steps in the rear. 
 
 While Boris continued to perform the proper figures of the 
 mazurka, he was continually tortured by the thought of what 
 news Balashof had brought, arid how he might get hold of it 
 before the others. 
 
 In the figure, when he had to choose a lady, he whispered 
 to Ellen that he wanted to get the Countess Potocka, who, he 
 believed, had gone out on the balcony. Hastily crossing the 
 marquetry floor, he slipped out of the open door into the 
 garden ; and there, perceiving the sovereign walking along 
 the terrace in company with Balashof, he stepped to one side, j 
 The sovereign and Balashof were directing their steps toward 
 the door. Boris, pretending that in spite of all his efforts ..e 
 had not time to get out of the way, respectfully crowded up 
 against the lintel and bowed. 
 
 The sovereign, with the agitated face of a man personally 
 offended, uttered these words : 
 
 " To make war against Russia without any declaration ! I
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 13 
 
 will never consent to peace so long as a single armed foe 
 remains in my land ! " said he. It seemed to Boris that the 
 sovereign took a delight in uttering these words ; he was satis- 
 fied with the form in which his thought was couched, but he 
 was annoyed that Boris had overheard him. ( < Let not a word 
 of this be known," he added, with a frown. Boris understood 
 that this was a hint to him, and, closing his eyes, he again 
 bowed slightly. The sovereign returned to the ballroom, and 
 remained for about half an hour longer. 
 
 Boris was the first to learn the news of the French army 
 having crossed the Niemen ; and, turning his luck to good use, 
 made several important personages think that many things 
 concealed from the others were known to him, and thereby he 
 succeeded in rising still higher in their estimation. 
 
 The news of the French crossing the Niemen, unexpected 
 as it was, was peculiarly unexpected after a long month of 
 strained expectancy, and by reason of being announced at a 
 ball ! The sovereign, at the first instant of receiving the news, 
 under the influence of inner revolt and indignation, made use 
 of that bold sentiment which gave him such satisfaction, and 
 so exactly expressed his feeling, at the time, and afterwards 
 became famous. 
 
 On his return to his residence after the ball, the sovereign 
 
 3nt, at two o'clock in the morning, for his secretary, Shish- 
 
 in ; and dictated a general order to his troops, and a re- 
 
 jript to Field-Marshal Prince Saltuikof, strictly charging 
 
 nim to use the words about his refusal to make peace so 
 
 long as a single armed Frenchman remained, on Russian 
 
 soil. On the next day, the following note was written to 
 
 Napoleon : 
 
 MY BROTHER: I learned yesterday that, notwithstanding the fidelity 
 with which I have adhered to my engagements towards your majesty, 
 your troops have crossed the Russian frontier; and I have this moment 
 received from Petersburg a note wherein Count Lauriston, in order to ex- 
 plain this aggression, announces that your majesty considered himself at 
 war with me from the time that Prince Kurakin demanded his pass- 
 ports. The grounds on which the Duke of Bassano refused to grant it 
 would never have allowed me to suppose that this step could serve as a 
 pretext for the aggression. In fact, my ambassador was never authorized 
 to take this step, as he himself explicitly declared; and, as soon as I was 
 informed of it, I manifested the extent of my disapproval by ordering him 
 to remain at his post. If your majesty is not obstinately bent upon shed- 
 ding the blood of our peoples through a misunderstanding of this sort, and 
 will consent to withdraw your troops from the Russian territory, I will 
 regard what has passed as non-existent, and we may arrive at some
 
 14 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 accommodation. In the opposite case, your majesty, I shall be com- 
 pelled to repulse an attack which I have done nothing to provoke. 
 There is still a chance for your majesty to avoid the calamities of a 
 new war. I am, etc., 
 
 (Signed) ALEXANDER.* 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 ON the twenty-fifth of June, at two o'clock in the morning, 
 the sovereign, having summoned Balashof, and read over to 
 him his letter to Napoleon, ordered him to take it and deliver 
 it to the French emperor in person. In despatching Balashof, 
 the sovereign once more repeated what he had said about not 
 making peace so long as a single armed foe remained on Rus- 
 sian soil, and he ordered him to quote these exact words to 
 Napoleon. The sovereign did not incorporate this threat in 
 his letter to Napoleon, because his tact made him feel that 
 they were inappropriate at a moment when the last efforts 
 were making for reconciliation ; but he strenuously com- 
 manded Balashof to repeat them to Napoleon verbally. 
 
 Setting off that very same night, Balashof, accompanied by 
 a bugler and two Cossacks, by daybreak reached the village of 
 Rykonty, on the Russian side of the Niemen, where the French 
 vanguard were stationed. He was brought to a halt by the 
 French videttes. A non-commissioned officer of hussars, in a 
 crimson uniform and shaggy cap, challenged the approaching 
 envoy, and ordered him to halt. Balashof did not come in- 
 
 * Monsieur mon Fr"ere : J'ai appris hier que malgre la ioyaute, avec 
 laquellej'ai maintenu mes engagements envers votre majeste, sen troupes 
 ont franchi les frontieres de la Russie, et je reqois a V instant de 
 Petersbourg une note par laquelle le Comte Lauriston, pour cause de 
 cette aggression, annonce que votre majeste s'est consideree comine 
 en etat de guerre avec moi des le moment ou le prince Kourakine a fait 
 la demande de ses passeports. Les motifs sur lesqitelles le due de Bas- 
 sanofondait son refus de les lui delivrer, n'auraient jamais pu me faire 
 supposer que cette demarche servir ait jamais de pretext e a I* aggression. 
 En effet cet ambassadeur n'y a jamais ete autorise comme il Va declare 
 lui meme, et aussitdt qne j^enfusmforme^jelid aifait connaitre combien 
 je le desapprouvait en lui donnant Vordre de rester a son poste. Si votre 
 majeste n'est pas intentionnee de verser le sang de nos peuples pour un 
 mdlentendu de ce genre et qiCelle consente a retirer ses troupes du terri- 
 toire ruxse,je regarderai ce qui s-est passe comme non avenu et un ac- 
 commodement entre nous sera possible. Dans le cas contraire, votre 
 majeste, je me verrai force de repousser une attaque que rien n'a 
 provoquee de ma part. II depend encore de votre majeste, d'emter a 
 Vhumanite les calamites d'une nouvelle guerre. 
 
 Je snis, etc., (Signe) ALEXANDRE.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 15 
 
 stantly to a pause, but continued to advance at a footpace 
 along the roacl. 
 
 The subaltern, scowling and muttering some abusive epi- 
 thet, blocked Balashof's way with his horse, and rudely 
 shouted to the Russian general, demanding if he were deaf, 
 that he paid no attention to what was said to him. Balashof 
 gave his name. The subaltern sent a soldier to the officer in 
 command. 
 
 Paying no further heed to Balashof, the non-commissioned 
 officer began to talk with his comrades concerning their pri- 
 vate affairs, and did not even look at the Russian general. 
 
 It was an absolutely new experience for Balashof, after 
 being so accustomed to proximity to the very fountain head of 
 power and might, after just coming from a three hours' con- 
 versation with his sovereign, and having been universally 
 treated with respect, to find this, here on Russian soil, hostile 
 and peculiarly disrespectful display of brutal insolence. 
 
 The sun was just beginning to break through the clouds ; 
 the air was .cool and fresh with dew. Along the road from 
 the village they were driving the cattle to pasture. Over the 
 fields, one after another, like bubbles in the water, soared the 
 larks with their matin songs. 
 
 Balashof looked about him while waiting for the officer to 
 arrive from the village. The Russian Cossacks and the bugler 
 and the French hussars occasionally exchanged glances, but no 
 one spoke. 
 
 A French colonel of hussars, evidently just out of bed, came 
 riding up from the village on a handsome, well fed, gray 
 horse, accompanied by two hussars. The officer, the soldiers, 
 and their horses had an appearance of content and jauntiness. 
 
 It was the first period of the campaign, while the army was 
 still in the very best order, almost lit for a review in time of 
 peace, with just a shade of martial smartness in their attire, 
 and with their minds a trifle stirred up to that gayety and 
 cheerfulness and spirit of enterprise that always characterize 
 the beginning of an expedition. 
 
 The French colonel with difficulty overcame a fit of yawn- 
 ing, but he was courteous, and evidently appreciated Balashof's 
 high dignity. He conducted him past his soldiers inside the 
 lines, and informed him that his desire to have a personal 
 interview with the emperor would in all probability be imme- 
 diately granted, since the imperial headquarters, he believed, 
 were not far distant. 
 
 They approached the village of Rykonty, riding by pickets,
 
 16 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 sentinels, and soldiery, who saluted their colonel, and gazed 
 with curiosity at the Russian uniforms, and finally came to 
 the other side of the village. According to the colonel, the. 
 chief of division, who would receive Balashof and arrange the 
 interview, would be found two kilometers distant. 
 
 The sun was now mounting high, and shone bright and 
 beautiful over the vivid green of the fields. 
 
 They had just passed a pot-house on a hillside, when they 
 saw, coming to meet them up the hill, a little band of horse- 
 men, led by a tall man in a red cloak and in a plumed hat, 
 under which long dark loaks rolled down upon his shoulders. 
 He rode a coal-black horse, whose housings glittered in the 
 sun, and his long legs were thrust forward in the fashion affected 
 by French riders. This man came at a gallop toward Bala- 
 shof, flashing and waving in the bright June sun, with his 
 plumes and precious stones and gold galloons. 
 
 Balashof was within the length of two horses from this 
 enthusiastically theatrical-looking individual, who was gallop- 
 ing to meet him in all his bravery of bracelets, plumes, neck- 
 laces, and gold, when lulner, the French colonel, respectfully 
 said, in a deferential whisper, " Le roi de Naples.' 17 
 
 This was indeed Murat, who was still called the King of 
 Naples. Although it was wholly incomprehensible in what 
 respect he was the king of Naples, still he bore that title ; and' 
 he himself was convinced of its validity, and consequently he 
 assumed a more majestic and important aspect than ever 
 before. He was so convinced that he was actually King of 
 Naples that when, on the day before his departure from that 
 city, as he was walking with his wife through the streets of 
 Naples, and a few Italians acclaimed him with Viva il 
 re Hurrah for the king he turned to his consort and said, 
 with a melancholy smile, " Oh, poor creatures, they do not 
 know that I am going to leave them to-morrow." 
 
 But though he firmly believed that he was King of Naples, and 
 was grieved for the sorrow that was coming upon his faith- 
 ful subjects in losing him, still when he was commanded to 
 enter the military service again, and especially since his meet- 
 ing with Napoleon at Danzig, when his august brother-in- 
 law had said to him, " I made you king to reign in my way, 
 not in yours," * he had cheerfully taken up the business which 
 he understood so well, and, like a carriage horse, driven but 
 not overworked, feeling himself in harness, he was frisky 
 even between the thills, and, decked out in the most gorgeous 
 * Je vous aifait roi pour rcyner a ma mamere, mats pat a la votre.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 17 
 
 and costly manner possible, galloped gayly and contentedly 
 along the Polish highway, not knowing whither or wherefore. 
 
 As soon as he api .reached the Eussian general, he threw his 
 head back in royal fashion, and solemnly, with his black curls 
 flowing down over his shoulders, looked inquiringly at the 
 French colonel. The colonel respectfully explained to his Ma- 
 jesty Balashof's errand, though he could not pronounce his name. 
 
 " De Bal-ma-cheve" said the king, his self-confidence help- 
 ing him to overcome the difficulty that had floored the colonel. 
 " Channe de faire votre connaissance, general" he added, with 
 a royally gracious gesture. 
 
 The moment the king began to speak loud and rapidly all 
 the kingly dignity instantly deserted him, and, without his 
 suspecting such a thing himself, changed into a tone of good-' 
 natured familiarity. He laid his hand on the withers of Bal- 
 ashof's horse. 
 
 " Well, general, everything looks like war, it seems," said 
 he, as though he regretted a state of things concerning which 
 he was in no position to judge. 
 
 " Your majesty," replied Balashof, " the Russian emperor, my 
 sovereign, has no desire for war, and, as your majesty sees," . . . 
 said Balashof, and thus he went on, with unavoidable affects 
 tion, repeating the title votre majeste at every opportunity 
 during his conversation with this individual, for whom it was 
 still a novelty. 
 
 Murat's face glowed with dull satisfaction while he listened 
 to Monsieur de Balachoff. But royaute oblige ; and he felt 
 that it was indispensable for him, as king and ally, to converse 
 with Alexander's envoy, on matters of state. He dismounted, 
 and, taking Balashof's arm, and drawing him a few paces aside 
 from his suite, waiting respectfully, he began to walk up and 
 down with him, trying to speak with all authority. He in- 
 formed him that the Emperor Napoleon was offended by the 
 demand made upon him to withdraw his forces from Prussia : 
 especially as this demand was made publicly, and, therefore, 
 was an insult to the dignity of France. 
 
 Balashof said that there was nothing insulting in this 
 demand, "because" 
 
 Murat interrupted him, 
 
 " So then you do not consider the Emperor Alexander as the 
 instigator of the war ? " he asked, suddenly, with a stupidly 
 good-natured smile. 
 
 Balashof explained why he really supposed that Napoleon 
 was the aggressor. 
 VOL. 3. 2.
 
 18 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 " Ah, my dear general," again exclaimed Murat, interrupt- 
 ing him, "I desire, with all my heart, that the emperors 
 should come to a mutual understanding, and that the war, 
 begun in spite of me, should be brought to a termination as soon 
 as possible," * said he, in the tone of servants who wish to remain 
 good friends, though their masters may quarrel. And he pro- 
 ceeded to make inquiries about the grand duke, and the state 
 of his health, and recalled the jolly good times which they had 
 enjoyed together at Naples. Then, suddenly, as though re- 
 membering his kingly dignity, Murat drew himself up haugh- 
 tily, struck the same attitude in which he had stood during his 
 coronation, and, waving his right hand, said, 
 
 " I will not detain you longer, general ; I wish you all suc- 
 cess in your mission ; " and then, with his embroidered red 
 mantle, and his plumes gayly waving, and his precious trin- 
 kets glittering in the sun, he rejoined his suite, which had 
 been respectfully waiting for him. 
 
 Balashof went on his way, expecting, from what Murat said, 
 to be very speedily presented to Napoleon himself. But, in- 
 stead of any such speedy meeting with Napoleon, the sentinels 
 of Davoust's infantry corps detained him again at the next 
 village just as he had been halted at the outposts until an 
 aide of the corps commander, who was sent for, conducted him 
 to Marshal Davoust, in the village. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 DAVOLST was the Emperor Napoleon's Arakcheyef Arak- 
 cheyef except in cowardice : just the same, punctilious and 
 cruel ; and knowing no other way of manifesting his devotion 
 except by cruelty. 
 
 In the mechanism of imperial organism, such men are neces- 
 sary, just as wolves are necessary in the organism of nature ; 
 and they always exist and manifest themselves and maintain 
 themselves, however incompatible their presence and proxim- 
 ity to the chief power may seem. Only by this indispensable- 
 ness can it be explained how Arakcheyef a cruel man, who 
 personally pulled the mustache of a' grenadier, and who by 
 reason of weakness of nerves could not endure any danger, and 
 
 * Eh, mon cher general, je desire de tout mon cceur, que les empereurs s'ar- 
 rangent entre eux, et que la guerre commencee malgre moi se termme le 
 plus tot possible.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 19 
 
 was ill-bred and ungentlemanly could maintain power and 
 influence with a character so chivalrous, noble, and affectionate 
 as Alexander's. 
 
 In the barn attached to a peasant's cottage, Balashof found 
 Marshal Davoust, sitting on a keg, and busily engaged in 
 clerk's business (he was verifying accounts). An aide stood 
 near him. He might have found better accommodations ; but 
 Marshal Davoust was one of those men who purposely make 
 the conditions of life as disagreeable as possible for themselves, 
 :n order to have an excuse for being themselves disagreeable. 
 Consequently, they are always hurried and obstinate. " How 
 can I think of the happy side of life when, as you see, I am 
 sitting on a keg, in a dirty barn, and working ? " the expres- 
 sion of his face seemed to say. The chief satisfaction and 
 requirement of such men are that they should be brought into 
 contact with men of another stamp, and to make before them an 
 enormous display of disagreeable and obstinate activity. This 
 gratification was granted Davoust when Balashof was ushered 
 into his presence. He buried himself more deeply than ever 
 in his work when the Russian general appeared. He glanced 
 over his spectacles at Balashof's face, animated by the spirit 
 of the beautiful morning and the meeting with Murat, but he 
 did not get up or even stir. He put on a still more portentous 
 frown, and smiled sardonically. 
 
 Noticing the impression produced on Balashof by this recep- 
 tion, Davoust raised his head, and chillingly demanded what 
 he wanted. 
 
 Supposing that this insulting reception was given him 
 because Davoust did not know that he was the Emperor Alex- 
 ander's general-adjutant, and, what was more, his envoy to 
 Napoleon, Balashof hastened to inform him of his name and 
 mission. Contrary to his expectation, Davoust, after listening 
 to Balashof's communication, became still more gruff and rude. 
 
 " Where is your packet ? " he demanded. "Give it to me ; 
 I will send it to the emperor." 
 
 Balashof replied that he was ordered to give the package 
 personally to the emperor. 
 
 " Your emperor's orders are carried out in your army ; but 
 here," said Davoust, "you must do as you are told." And, as 
 though to make the Russian general feel still more keenly how 
 completely he was at the mercy of brute force, Davoust sent 
 an aide for the officer of the day. 
 
 Balashof took out the packet containing the sovereign's note, 
 and laid it on t{ie table a table improvised of a door, with
 
 20 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 the torn hinges still protruding, and laid on a couple of barrels. 
 Davoust took the packet and read the superscription. 
 
 " You have a perfect right to treat me with respect, or not 
 to treat me with respect," said Balashof . " But permit me to 
 remark that I have the honor of being one of his Majesty's 
 aides " 
 
 Davoust gazed at him without saying a word ; but a trace 
 of annoyance and confusion, betrayed in Balashof's face, evi- 
 dently afforded him gratification. 
 
 " All due respect will be showed you," said he ; and, pla- 
 cing the envelope in his pocket, he left the barn. 
 
 A moment later, the marshal's aide, Monsieur de Castrier, 
 made his appearance, and conducted Balashof to the lodgings 
 made ready for him ; Balashof dined that same day with the 
 marshal, in the barn, the boards on the barrels serving as the 
 table ; early in the morning of the following day, Davoust came, 
 and, taking Balashof to one side, told him confidentially that 
 he was requested to stay where he was ; though, if the baggage 
 train received orders to advance, he was to advance with it, 
 and not to communicate with any one except with Monsieur 
 de Castrier. 
 
 At the end of four days of solitude, of tedium, of bitter con- 
 sciousness of his helplessness and insignificance all the more 
 palpable through contrast with the atmosphere of autocracy to 
 which he had so recently been accustomed, after a number of 
 transfers with the marshal's baggage and the French forces 
 which occupied the whole region, Balashof was brought back 
 to Vilno now in possession of the French : he re-entered the 
 town by the same gate by which he had left it four days 
 before. 
 
 On the following day the Imperial Chamberlain, Monsieur 
 de Turenne, came to Balashof and announced that the Emperor 
 Napoleon would be pleased to grant him an audience. 
 
 Four days previously sentinels from the Preobrazhensky 
 regiment had been standing in front of the mansion into which 
 Balashof was conducted ; now two French grenadiers in blue 
 uniforms opened over the chest, and in shaggy caps, an escort 
 of hussars and Uhlans and a brilliant suite of aides, pages, and 
 generals, were standing at the steps near his saddle horse and 
 his Mameluke Eustan, waiting for him to make his appear- 
 ance. 
 
 Napoleon received Balashof in the same house in Vilno from 
 which Alexander had despatched him.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 21 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THOUGH Balashof was accustomed to court magnificence, the 
 sumptuousness and display of Napoleon's court surprised him. 
 Count Turenne conducted him into the great drawing-room, 
 where a throng of generals, chamberlains, and Polish magnates, 
 many of whom Baiashof had seen at court during the sojourn 
 of the Russian emperor, were in waiting. Duroc told the 
 Russian general, that the Emperor Napoleon would receive 
 him before going out to ride. 
 
 At the end of some moments of expectation the chamber- 
 lain on duty came into the great drawing-room, and, bowing 
 courteously, invited Balashof to follow him. 
 
 Balashof passed into a small drawing-room which opened 
 into the cabinet, into the very same cabinet where the Rus- 
 sian Emperor had given him his directions. Balashof stood a 
 couple of minutes waiting. Then hasty steps were heard in 
 the other room. The folding doors were hastily flung open. 
 All was silent, and then firm, resolute steps were heard coining 
 from the cabinet : it was Napoleon. He had only just completed 
 his toilet for riding on horseback. He was in a blue uni- 
 form coat thrown open over a white waistcoat that covered the 
 rotundity of his abdomen ; he wore white chamois-skin small- 
 clothes that fitted tightly over the stout thighs of his short 
 legs, and Hessian boots. His short hair had evidently only 
 just been brushed, but one lock of hair hung down over the 
 centre of his broad brow. His white, puffy neck was in sharp 
 contrast with the dark collar of his uniform coat ; he exhaled 
 a strong odor of eau-de-Cologne. His plump and youthful- 
 looking face with its prominent chin wore an expression of 
 benevolence entirely compatible with his imperial majesty. 
 
 He came in, giving little quick jerks as he walked along, 
 and holding his head rather high. His whole figure, thick- 
 set and short, with his broad, stout shoulders and with . the 
 abdomen and breast involuntarily thrust forward, had that 
 portly, stately carriage which men of forty who have lived in 
 comfort are apt to have. Moreover it was evident that on 
 this particular day he was in the most enviable frame of mind. 
 He inclined his head in response to Balashof's low and re- 
 spectful bow, and, approaching him, began immediately to 
 speak like a man who values every moment of his time, 
 and does not condescend to make set speeches, but is con-
 
 22 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 vinced in his own mind that he always speaks well and to 
 the point. 
 
 " How are you, general ? " said he. " I have received the 
 Emperor Alexander's letter which you brought, and I am very 
 glad to see you." 
 
 He scrutinized Balashof' s face with his large eyes, and then 
 immediately looked past him. It was evident that Balashof s 
 personality did not interest him in the least. It was evident 
 that only what came into his own mind had any interest for 
 him. Everything outside of him had no consequence, because, 
 as it seemed to him, everything in the world depended on his 
 will alone. 
 
 " I have not desired war, and I do not desire it now," said 
 he. " But I have been driven to it. Even now " he laid a 
 strong stress on the word "I am ready to accept any expla- 
 nation which you can offer." 
 
 And he began clearly and explicitly to state the grounds for 
 his dissatisfaction with the Russian Government. Judging by 
 the calm, moderate, and even friendly tone in which the French 
 Emperor spoke, Balashof was firmly convinced that he was 
 anxious for peace and intended to enter into negotiations. 
 
 " Sire, VEmpereur, mon maitre " Balashof began his long 
 prepared speech when Napoleon, having finished what he had 
 to say, looked inquiringly at the Russian envoy : but the look 
 in the Emperor's eyes, fastened upon him, confused him. 
 "You are confused, regain your' self-possession," Napoleon 
 seemed to say as he glanced with a hardly perceptible smile at 
 Balashof's uniform and sword. Balashof recovered his self- 
 possession and began to speak. He declared that the Em- 
 peror Alexander did not consider Kurakin's demand for his 
 passport a sufficient ground for war, that Kurakin had pro- 
 ceeded on his own responsibility and without the sovereign's 
 sanction, that the Emperor Alexander did not wish for war 
 and that he had no understanding with England. 
 
 " None as yet," suggested Napoleon, and, as though fearing 
 to commit himself, he scowled and slightly inclined his head, 
 giving Balashof to understand that he might go on. 
 
 Having said all that he had been empowered to say, Balashof 
 declared that the Emperor Alexander desired peace, but that 
 he would not enter into negotiations except on condition 
 that Here Balashof stopped short. He recollected the 
 words which the Emperor Alexander had not incorporated in 
 the letter, but which he had strenuously insisted should be in- 
 serted in the rescript to Saltuikof, and which he had com-
 
 WAR AND PEACE. _23 
 
 manded Balashof to repeat to Napoleon. Balashof remembered 
 these words, " so long as an armed foe remains on Eussian 
 soil," but some strange and complicated feeling restrained him. 
 He found it impossible to repeat these words, although his 
 desire to do so was great. He hesitated and said, " On condi- 
 tion that the French troops retire beyond the Memen." 
 
 Napoleon remarked Balashof's confusion as he said those 
 last words. His face twitched ; the calf of his left leg began to 
 tremble nervously. Not stirring from the place where he was 
 standing, he began to speak in a higher key, and more rapidly 
 than before. All the time that he was speaking, Balashof, not 
 once shifting his eyes, involuntarily watched the twitching of 
 Napoleon's left calf, which increased in violence in proportion 
 as he raised his voice. 
 
 " I desire peace no less than the Emperor Alexander," said 
 he. "Have I not for eighteen months done everything to 
 preserve it ? I have been waiting eighteen months for an 
 explanation. But what is demanded of me before negotiations 
 can begin ? " he asked, with a frown, and emphasizing his 
 question with an energetic gesture of his little, white, plump 
 hand. 
 
 "The withdrawal of the troops beyond the Niemen, sire," 
 replied Balashof. 
 
 " Beyond the Niemen," repeated Napoleon. " So that is all 
 that is wanted now, is it, ' beyond the Niemen/ merely 
 beyond the Niemen," insisted Napoleon, looking straight at 
 Balashof. 
 
 Balashof respectfully inclined his head. 
 
 " Four months ago the demand was to evacuate Pomerania, 
 but now all that is required is to retire beyond the Niemen." 
 Napoleon abruptly turned away and began to pace up and 
 down the room. " You say that it is demanded of me to 
 retire beyond the Niemen before there can be any attempt at 
 negotiations, but in exactly the same way two months ago all 
 that was required of me was to retire beyond the Oder and the 
 Vistula, and yet you can still think of negotiating ? " 
 
 He walked in silence from one corner of the room to the 
 other, and then stopped in front of Balashof. Balashof 
 noticed that his left leg trembled even faster than before, and 
 his face seemed petrified in its sternness of expression. This 
 trembling Napoleon himself was aware of. He afterwards 
 said, " La vibration de mon mollet gauche est un grand signe 
 chez moi" 
 
 " Any such propositions as to abandon the Oder or the
 
 24 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 Vistula may be made to the Prince of Baden, but not to me," 
 Napoleon almost screamed, the words seeming to take him by 
 surprise. " If you were to give me Petersburg and Moscow, 
 I would not accept such conditions. You declare that I began 
 this war. But who went to his army first ? The Emperor 
 Alexander, and not I. And you propose negotiations when I 
 have spent millions, when you have made an alliance with 
 England, and when your position is critical you propose 
 negotiations with me ! But what was the object of your alli- 
 ance with England ? What has she given you ? " he asked, 
 hurriedly, evidently now making no effort to show the advan- 
 tages of concluding peace, and deciding upon the possibilities 
 of it, but simply to prove his own probity and power, and 
 Alexander's lack of probity and blundering statecraft. 
 
 At first he was evidently anxious to show what an advanta- 
 geous position he held, and to prove that, nevertheless, he 
 would be willing to have negotiations opened again. But he 
 was now fairly launched in his declaration, and the longer 
 he spoke the less able he was to control the current of his dis- 
 course. The whole aim of his words now seemed to exalt 
 himself and to humiliate Alexander, which was precisely 
 what he least of all wished to do at the beginning of the inter- 
 view. 
 
 " It is said you have concluded peace with the Turks ? " 
 
 Balashof bent his head affirmatively. "Peace has been 
 dec " he began ; but Napoleon gave him no chance to 
 speak. It was plain that he wished to have the floor to him- 
 self, and he went on talking with that eloquence and excess 
 of irritability to which men who have been spoiled -are so 
 prone. 
 
 " Yes, I know that you have concluded peace with the 
 Turks, and without securing Moldavia and Valakhia. But I 
 would have given your sovereign these provinces just as I 
 gave him Finland ! Yes," he went on to say, " I promised the 
 Emperor Alexander the provinces of Moldavia and Valakhia, 
 and I would have given them to him ; but now he shall not 
 have those beautiful provinces. He might, however, have 
 united them to his empire, and, in his reign alone, he would 
 have made Russia spread from the Gulf of Bothnia to the 
 mouths of the Danube. Catherine the Great could not have 
 done more," exclaimed Napoleon, growing more and more 
 excited, as he strode up and down the room, and saying to 
 Balashof almost the same words which he had said to Alex- 
 ander himself at Tilsit. " All that my friendship would have
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 25 
 
 brought to him ! Oh, what a glorious reign ! what a glorious 
 reign ! " he repeated several times. He paused and took out 
 a gold snuff-box, and greedily sniffed at it. " What a glorious 
 reign the Emperor Alexander's might have been ! " * 
 
 He gave Balashof a compassionate look, but as soon as the 
 general started to make some remark, Napoleon hastened to 
 interrupt him again. 
 
 " What could he have wished or sought for that he would 
 not have secured by being my friend ? " Napoleon asked, 
 shrugging his shoulders in perplexity. " No, he preferred to 
 surround himself with my enemies, and what enemies ? " pur- 
 sued Napoleon. " He has attached to himself Steins, Arm- 
 feldts, Benigsens, Winzengerodes ! Stein, a traitor banished 
 from his own country ; Armfeldt, a scoundrel and intriguer ; 
 Winzengerode, a fugitive French subject ; Benigsen, a rather 
 better soldier than the others, but still incapable, who had no 
 idea how to act in 1807, and who ought to arouse horrible 
 recollections in the emperor's mind. We will grant that he 
 might make some use of them, if they had any capacity," pur- 
 sued Napoleon, scarcely able in his speech to keep up with the 
 arguments that kept rising in his mind in support of his right 
 or might the two things being one in his view. " But there 
 is nothing of the sort : they are of no use either for war or 
 peace ! Barclay, they say, is better than all the rest of them ; 
 but I should not say so, judging by his first movements. But 
 what are they doing ? What are all these courtiers doing ? 
 Pfuhl proposes ; Armfeldt argues ; Benigsen considers ; and 
 Barclay, when called upon to act, knows not what plan of 
 action to decide upon, and time slips away, and nothing is 
 accomplished. Bagration alone is a soldier. He is stupid, 
 but he has experience, a quick eye, and decision. And what 
 sort of a part is your young sovereign playing in this hopeless 
 throng ? They are compromising him, and making him re- 
 sponsible for everything that takes place. A sovereign has no 
 right to be with his army unless he is a general," said he, 
 evidently intending these words to be taken as a direct chal- 
 lenge to the Russian emperor. Napoleon was well aware 
 how desirous the Emperor Alexander was to be a military com- 
 mander. 
 
 "The campaign has not been begun a week, and you could 
 not defend Vilno. You are cut in two, and driven out of the 
 Polish provinces. .Your army is already grumbling." 
 
 * Tout cela il I'aurait du a mon amifie. Ah ! quel beau regne ! quel bean 
 regne ' Quel beau regne await pu celui $e I'empereur Alexdnclre,
 
 26 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 "On the contrary, your majesty," said Balashof, scarcely 
 remembering what had been said to him, and finding it hard 
 to follow this pyrotechnic of words, " the troops are full of 
 zeal " 
 
 " I know all about it," said Napoleon, interrupting him. " I 
 know the whole story ; and I know the contingent of your 
 oatt aliens as well as that of my own. You have not two 
 hundred thousand men ; and I have three times as many. 
 I give you my word of honor," said Napoleon, who forgot 
 that his word of honor might have very little weight, "I 
 give you my word of honor that I have five hundred and 
 thirty thousand men on this side of the Vistula. The Turks 
 will be no help to you : they are never of any use ; and 
 they have proved this by making peace with you. The 
 Swedes it is their fate to be ruled by madmen. Their 
 king was crazy : they got rid of him, and chose another 
 Bernadotte, who instantly lost his wits : because it is sure 
 proof of madness that a Swede should enter into alliance with 
 Kussia." 
 
 Napoleon uttered this with a vicious sneer, and again car- 
 ried the snuff-box to his nose. 
 
 To each of Napoleon's propositions, Balashof was ready and 
 willing to give an answer ; he kept making the gestures of a 
 man who has somewhat to say ; but Napoleon gave him no 
 chance to speak. In refutation of the Swedes being mad, 
 Balashof was anxious to state that Sweden was isolated if 
 Kussia were against her; but Napoleon interrupted him, 
 shouting at the top of his voice, so as to drown his words. 
 Napoleon had worked himself up into that state of irritation 
 in which a man must talk, and talk, and talk, if for nothing 
 else but to convince himself that he is in the right of a 
 question. 
 
 Balashof began to grow uncomfortable : as an envoy he 
 began to fear that he was compromising his dignity ; and he 
 felt it incumbent upon him to reply ; but, as a man, he had a 
 moral shrinking before the assault of such unreasonable fury 
 as had evidently come upon Napoleon. He was aware that 
 anything Napoleon might say in such circumstances had no 
 special significance ; that he himself, when he came to think 
 it over, would be ashamed. Balashof stood with eyes cast 
 down, looking at Napoleon's restless stout legs, and tried to 
 avoid meeting his eyes. 
 
 " But what do I care for your allies ? " demanded Napoleon. 
 " I too have allies these Poles, eighty thousand of them ; 

 
 WAR AND PEACE. 27 
 
 they fight like lions, and there will be two hundred thousand of 
 them." 
 
 And, probably, still more excited by the fact that in making 
 this statement he was uttering a palpable falsehood, and by 
 Balashof standing there, in silent submission to his fate, 1 he 
 abruptly turned back, came close to Balashof, and, making 
 rapid and energetic gestures with his white hands, he almost 
 screamed, 
 
 " Understand ! If you incite Prussia against me, I assure 
 
 I you, I will wipe her off from the map of Europe," said he, his 
 
 I face pale and distorted with rage, and energetically striking 
 
 one white hand against the other. " Yes, and I will drive you 
 
 ; beyond the Dwina and the Dnieper ; and I will erect against 
 
 I you that barrier which Europe was stupid and blind enough 
 
 to permit to be overthrown. That is what will become of you, 
 
 that is what you will have lost in alienating me," said he, and 
 
 once more began to pace the room in silence, a number of 
 
 times jerking his stout shoulders. 
 
 He replaced his snuff-box in his waistcoat pocket, took it out 
 
 again, carried it to his nose several times, and halted directly 
 
 ' in front of Balashof. He stood thus without speaking, and 
 
 gazed directly into Balashof's eyes, with a satirical expression ; 
 
 then he said, in a low tone, 
 
 " Et cependant quel beau regne aurait pu avoir votre maitre 
 what a glorious reign your master might have had ! " 
 
 Balashof, feeling it absolutely indispensable to make some 
 answer, declared that affairs did not present themselves to the 
 eyes of the Russians in such a gloomy aspect. Napoleon said 
 nothing, but continued to look at him with the same satirical 
 expression, and apparently had not heard what he said. Bal- 
 ashof declared that in Russia the highest hopes were enter- 
 tained of the issue of the war. Napoleon tossed his head con- 
 i descendingly, as much as to say. " I know it is your duty to 
 i say so, but you do not believe it ; my arguments have con- 
 vinced you." 
 
 When Balashof had finished what he had to say, Napoleon 
 once more raised his snuff-box, took a sniff from it, and then 
 stamped twice on the floor, as a signal. The door was flung 
 open : a chamberlain, respectfully approaching, handed the 
 emperor his hat and gloves ; another brought him his handker- 
 chief. Napoleon, not even looking at them, addressed Bala- 
 shof, 
 
 " Assure the Emperor Alexander, in my name," said he, as 
 he took his hat, " that I esteem him as warmly as before : I 
 
 .
 
 28 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 know him thoroughly, and I highly appreciate his lofty quali- 
 ties. Je ne vous retiensplus, general ; vous recevrez ma lettre a 
 Vempereur" 
 
 And Napoleon swiftly disappeared through the door. All 
 in the reception-room hurried forward and down the stairs. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 AFTER all that Napoleon had said to him, after those ex- 
 plosions of wrath, and after those last words spoken so coldly, 
 " Je ne vous retiensplus, general ; vous recevrez ma lettre" Bal- 
 ashof was convinced that Napoleon would not only have no 
 further desire to see him, but would rather avoid seeing him, 
 a humiliated envoy, and, what was more, a witness of his un- 
 dignified heat. But, to his amazement, he received through 
 Duroc an invitation to dine that day with the emperor. 
 
 The guests were Bessieres, Caulaincourt, and Berthier. 
 
 Napoleon met Balashof with a cheerful face and affably. There 
 was not the slightest sign of awkwardness or self-reproach for 
 his outburst of the morning, but, on the contrary, he tried to 
 put Balashof at his ease. It was plain to see that Napoleon 
 was perfectly persuaded that there was no possibility of his 
 making any mistakes and that in his understanding of things 
 all that he did was well, not because it was brought into com- 
 parison with the standards of right and wrong, but simply 
 because he did it. 
 
 The emperor was in excellent spirits after his ride through 
 Vilno, where he was received and followed by the acclamations 
 of a throng of people. In all the windows along the streets 
 where he passed were displayed tapestries, flags, and decora- 
 tions ornamented with his monogram, while Polish ladies 
 saluted him and waved their handkerchiefs. 
 
 At dinner he had Balashof seated next himself and treated 
 him not only cordially but as though he considered him one of his 
 own courtiers, one of those who sympathized in his plan and 
 rejoiced in his success. Among other topics of conversation 
 he brought up Moscow and began to ask Balashof about the 
 Russian capital, not merely as an inquisitive traveller asks 
 about a new place which he has in mind to visit, but as though 
 he were convinced that Balashof, as a Russian, must be flat- 
 tered by his curiosity. 
 
 "How many inhabitants are there in Moscow ? How many
 
 WAR AND PEACE. $& 
 
 houses ? Is it a fact that Moscow is called Moscow la Sainte ? 
 How many' churches are there in Moscow ? " he asked 
 
 And when told that there were upwards of two hundred he 
 asked, " What is the good of such a host of churches ? " 
 
 " The Russians are very religious," replied Balashof. 
 
 "Nevertheless a great number of monasteries and churches 
 is always a sign that a people are backward," said Napoleon, 
 glancing at Caulaincourt for confirmation in this opinion. 
 
 Balashof respectfully begged leave to differ from the French 
 emperor's opinion. 
 
 " Every country has its own customs," said he. 
 
 " But nowhere else in Europe is there anything like it," 
 remarked Napoleon. 
 
 "I beg your majesty's pardon," replied Balashof. "There 
 is Spain as well as Russia where monasteries and churches 
 abound." 
 
 This reply of Balashof's, which had a subtile hint at the 
 recent defeat of the French in Spain, was considered very 
 clever when Balashof repeated it at the Emperor Alexander's 
 court ; but it was not appreciated at Napoleon's table, and 
 passed unnoticed. 
 
 The^ indifferent and perplexed faces of the marshals plainly 
 betrayed the fact that they did not understand where the 
 point of the remark came in, or realize Balashof's insinuation. 
 " If that had been witty, then we should have understood it ; 
 consequently it could not have been witty," the marshals' 
 faces seemed to say. So little was this remark appreciated 
 that even Napoleon did not notice it, and naively asked Bala- 
 shof the names of the cities through which the direct road to 
 Moscow led. 
 
 Balashof. who throughout the dinner was on the alert, replied, 
 " Just as all roads lead to Rome, so all roads lead to Moscow ; " 
 that there were many roads, and that among these different 
 routes was the one that passed through Pultava, which Charles 
 XII. had chosen. Thus replied Balashof, involuntarily flush- 
 ing with delight at the cleverness of this answer. Balashof 
 had hardly pronounced the word "Pultava" when Caulain- 
 court began to complain of the difficulties of the route from 
 Petersburg to Moscow and to recall his Petersburg experiences. 
 
 After dinner they went into Napoleon's cabinet to drink 
 their coffee ; four days before it had been the Emperor Alex- 
 ander's cabinet ; Napoleon sat down, 'stirring his coffee in a 
 Sevres cup and pointed Balashof to a chair near him. 
 
 There is a familiar state of mind that comes over a man
 
 SO WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 after a dinner, and, acting with greater force than all the die- 
 tates of mere reason, compels him to be satisfied with himself 
 and to consider all men his friends. Napoleon was now in 
 this comfortable mental condition. It seemed to him that he 
 was surrounded by men who adored him. He was persuaded 
 that even Balashof , after having eaten dinner with him, was his 
 friend and worshipper. Napoleon addressed him with a 
 pleasant and slightly satirical smile, 
 
 " This is the very room, I am informed, which the Emperor 
 Alexander used. Strange, isn't it, general?" he asked, evi- 
 dently not having any idea that such a remark could fail to 
 be agreeable to his guest, as it insinuated that he, Napoleon, 
 was superior to Alexander. 
 
 Balashof could have nothing to reply to this, and merely 
 inclined his head. 
 
 " Yes, in this room, four days ago, Winzengerode and Stein 
 were holding council," pursued Napoleon with the same self- 
 confident, satirical smile. " What I cannot understand is that 
 the Emperor Alexander has taken to himself all my personal 
 enemies. I do not understand it. Has it never occurred 
 to him that I might do the same thing ? " And this question 
 directed to Balashof evidently aroused his recollection qf the 
 cause of his morning's fury, which was still fresh in his mind. 
 
 "And have him know that I will do so." said Napoleon, get- 
 ting up and pushing away his cup. "I will drive all his 
 kindred out of Germany, those of Wiirtemberg, Weimar, 
 Baden yes, I will drive them all out. Let him be getting 
 ready for them an asylum in Russia ! " 
 
 Balashof bowed, and signified that he was anxious to with- 
 draw, and that he listened simply because he could not help 
 listening to what Napoleon said. But Napoleon paid no heed 
 to this motion ; he addressed Balashof not as his enemy's en- 
 \roy, but as a man who was for the time being entirely 
 devoted to him and must needs rejoice in the humiliation of 
 his former master. 
 
 " And why has the Emperor Alexander assumed the command 
 of his forces ? What is the reason of it ? War' is my trade, 
 and his is to rule and not to command armies. Why has he 
 taken upon him such responsibilities ? " 
 
 Napoleon again took his snuff-box, silently strode several 
 times from one end of the room to the other, and then suddenly 
 and unexpectedly went straight up to Balashof and with a slight 
 smile he unhesitatingly, swiftly, simply, as though he were 
 doing something not only important, but rather even agreeable
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 31 
 
 to Balashof, put his hand into his face and, taking hold of his 
 ear, gave it a little pull, the smile being on his lips alone. 
 To have one's ear pulled by the Emperor was considered the 
 greatest honor and favor at the French court. 
 
 " Eh bien, vous ne dites rien, admirateur et courtisan de 
 VEmpereur Alexandre ? " asked Napoleon, as though it were an 
 absurdity in his presence to be an admirer and courtier of any 
 one besides himself. " Are the horses ready for the general ? " 
 he added, slightly bending his head in answer to Balashof s 
 bow. " Give him mine, he has far to go" 
 
 The letter which was intrusted to Balashof was the last 
 that Napoleon ever wrote to Alexander. All the particulars of 
 the interview were communicated to the Russian emperor, 
 and the war began. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 AFTER his interview with Pierre, Prince Andrei went to 
 Petersburg on business, as he told his relatives, but in reality 
 to find Prince Anatol Kuragin there, since he considered it 
 his bounden duty to fight him. But Kuragin, whom he in- 
 quired after as soon as he reached Petersburg, was no longer 
 there. Pierre had sent word to his brother-in-law that Prince 
 Andrei was in search of him. Anatol Kuragin had immedi- 
 ately secured an appointment from the minister of war, and 
 gone to the Moldavian army. 
 
 During this visit to Petersburg Prince Andrei met Kutuzof, 
 his former general, who was always well disposed to him, and 
 Kutuzof proposed that he should go with him to the Molda- 
 vian army, of which the old general had been appointed com- 
 mander-in-chief. Prince Andrei, having thereupon received 
 his appointment as one of the commander's staff, started for 
 Turkey. 
 
 Prince Andrei felt that it would not be becoming to write 
 Kuragin and challenge him. Having no new pretext for a 
 duel, he felt that a challenge from him would compromise the 
 Countess Rostova, and therefore he sought for a personal 
 interview with Kuragin, when he hoped he should be able to 
 invent some new pretext for the duel. But in Turkey also he 
 failed of finding Kuragin, who had returned to Russia as soon 
 as he learned of Prince Andrei's arrival. 
 
 In a new country, and under new conditions, life began to 
 seem easier to Prince Andrei, After the faithlessness of his
 
 32 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 betrothed, which had affected him all the more seriously from 
 his very endeavor to conceal from all the grief that it had 
 really caused him, the conditions of life in which he had 
 found so much happiness had grown painful to him, and still 
 more painful the very freedom and independence which he 
 had in times gone by prized so highly. He not only ceased to 
 harbor those thoughts which had for the first time occurred to 
 him as he looked at the heavens on the field of Austerlitz, 
 which he so loved to develop with Pierre, and which were the 
 consolations of his solitude at Bogucharovo, and afterwards in 
 Switzerland and Rome, but he even feared to bring up^ the 
 recollection of these thoughts, which opened up such infinite 
 and bright horizons. He now concerned himself solely with 
 the narrowest and most practical interests, entirely discon- 
 nected with the past, and busied himself with these with all 
 the greater avidity because the things that were past were 
 kept" from, his remembrance. That infinite, ever-retreating 
 vault of the heavens which at that former time had arched 
 above him had, as it were, suddenly changed into one low and 
 finite oppression, where all was clear, but there was nothing 
 eternal and mysterious. 
 
 Of all the activities that offered themselves to his choice, 
 the military service was the simplest and best known to him. 
 Accepting the duties of general inspector on Kutuzof's staff, 
 he entered into his work so doggedly and perseveringly that 
 Kutuzof was amazed at his zeal and punctuality. Not finding 
 Kuragin in Turkey, he did not think it worth his while to fol- 
 low him back to Russia ; but still he was well aware that, no 
 matter how long a time should elapse, it would be impossible 
 for him, in spite of all the scorn which he felt for him, in 
 spite of all the arguments which he used in his own mind to 
 prove that he ought not to stoop to any encounter with him, 
 he was aware, I say, that if ever he met him he would _be 
 obliged to challenge him, just as a starving man throws him- 
 self on food. And this consciousness that the insult had not 
 yet been avenged, that his anger had not been vented, but still 
 lay on his heart, poisoned that artificial serenity which Prince 
 Andrei by his apparently indefatigable and somewhat ambi- 
 tious and ostentatious activity procured for himself in Turkey. 
 When, in 1812, the news of the war with Napoleon reached 
 Bukharest, where for two months Kutuzof had been living, 
 spending his days and nights with his Wallachian mistress, 
 Prince Andrei asked his permission to be transferred to the 
 western army. Kutuzof, who had already grown weary of the
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 33 
 
 excess of Bolk on sky's activity, which was a constant reproach 
 to his own indolence, willingly granted his request, and gave 
 him a commission to Barclay de Tolly. 
 
 Before joining the army, which, during the month of May, 
 was encamped at Drissa, Prince An4rei drove to Luisiya 
 Gorui, which was directly in his route, being only three versts 
 from the Smolensk highway. 
 
 During the last three years of Prince Andrei's life, there 
 had been so many changes, he had thought so much, felt so 
 much, seen so much, for he had travelled through both the 
 east and the west, that he felt a sense of strangeness, of 
 unexpected amazement, to find at Luisiya Gorui exactly the 
 same manner of life even to the smallest details. As he 
 entered the driveway, and passed the stone gates that guarded 
 his paternal home, it seemed as though it were an enchanted 
 castle, where everything was fast asleep. The same sobriety, 
 the same neatness, the same quietude reigned in the house ; 
 the same furniture, the same walls, the same sounds, the same 
 odor, and the same timid faces, only grown a little older. 
 
 The Princess Mariya was the same timid, plain body, only 
 grown into an old maid, and living out the best years of her 
 life in fear and eternal moral sufferings, without profit and 
 without happiness. Bourienne was the same coquettish, self- 
 satisfied person, cheerfully getting profit out of every moment 
 of her life, and consoling herself with the most exuberant 
 hopes ; only it seemed to Prince Andrei that she showed an 
 increase of assurance. 
 
 The tutor, Dessalles, whom Prince Andrei had brought from 
 Switzerland, wore an overcoat of Russian cut ; his unmanagea- 
 ble tongue involved itself in Russian speech with the servants, 
 but otherwise he was the same pious and pedantical tutor of 
 somewhat limited intelligence. 
 
 The only physical change in the old prince was a gap left 
 by the loss of a tooth, from one corner of his mouth ; morally, 
 he was just the same as before, only, with an accentuation of his 
 ugly temper, and his distrust in the genuineness of everything 
 that was done in the world. 
 
 Nikolushka, with his rosy cheeks and dark, curly hair, had 
 been the one person to grow and change ; and, unconsciously, 
 gay and merry, he lifted the upper lip of his pretty little 
 mouth, just as the lamented princess, his mother, had done. 
 He, alone, refused to obey the laws of immutability in this 
 enchanted, sleeping castle. But, though externally every- 
 thing remained as it had always been, the internal relations 
 VOL. 3. 3.
 
 34 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 of all these people had altered since Piince Andrei had seen 
 them. 
 
 The members of the household were divided into two alien 
 and hostile camps, which made common cause now simply 
 because he was there, for his sake changing the ordinary 
 course of their lives. To the one party belonged the old 
 prince, Bourienne, and the architect : to the other, the Prin- 
 cess Mariya, Dessalles, Nikolushka, and all the women of the 
 establishment. 
 
 During his brief stay at Luisiya Gorui, all the family dined 
 together ; but it was awkward for them all, and Prince Andrei 
 felt that he was a guest for whose sake an exception was made, 
 and that his presence was a constraint upon them. At dinner, 
 the first day, Prince Andrei, having this consciousness, was invol- 
 untarily taciturn ; and the old prince, remarking the unnatural- 
 ness of his behavior, also relapsed into a moody silence, and, 
 immediately after dinner, retired to his room. When, later, 
 Prince Andrei joined him there, and, with the desire of entertain- 
 ing him, began to tell him about the young Count Kamiensky's 
 campaign, the old prince unexpectedly broke out into a tirade 
 against the Princess Mariya, blaming her for her superstition, 
 and her dislike of Mademoiselle Bourienne. who, according to 
 him, was the only person truly devoted to him. 
 
 The old prince laid the cause of his feeble health entirely 
 to the Princess Mariya, insisting that she all the time annoyed 
 and exasperated him ; and that, by her injudicious coddling, 
 and foolish talk, she was spoiling the little Prince Nikolai. 
 The old prince was perfectly well aware that it was he who 
 tormented his daughter, and that her life was rendered exceed- 
 ingly trying; bub he was also aware that he could not help 
 tormenting her, and that she deserved it. 
 
 " Why does not Prince Andrei, who sees how things are, say 
 anything to me about his sister ? " wondered the old prince. 
 " He thinks, I suppose, that I am a wicked monster, or an old 
 idiot, who has unreasonably estranged himself from his 
 daughter, and taken a Frenchwoman in her place. He does 
 not understand ; and so I must explain to him, and he must lis- 
 ten to me," thought the old prince. And he began to expound 
 the reasons that made it impossible to endure his daughter's 
 absurd character. 
 
 " Since you ask my opinion," said Prince Andrei, not look- 
 ing at his father for he was condemning him for the first 
 time in his life " but I did not wish to talk about it ; since 
 you ask me ; however, I will tell you frankly my opinion, in
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 35 
 
 regard to this matter. If there is any misunderstanding and 
 discord between you and Masha, I could never blame her for 
 it, for I know how she loves and reveres you. And if you 
 ask me further," pursued Prince Andrei, giving way to his 
 irritation, because he had become of late exceedingly prone to 
 fits of irritation, " then I must have one thing to say : if there 
 is any such misunderstanding, the cause of it is that vulgar 
 woman, who is unworthy to be my sister's companion." 
 
 The old man at first gazed at his son with staring eyes, and, 
 by his forced smile, uncovered the new gap caused by the loss 
 of the tooth, to which Prince Andrei could not accustom him- 
 self. 
 
 " What companion, my dear ? Ha ! Have you already 
 been talking that over ? Ha ! " 
 
 "Batyushka, I do not wish to judge you," said Prince 
 Andrei, in a sharp and choleric voice ; " but you have driven 
 me to it ; and I have said, and always shall say, that the 
 Princess Mariya is net to blame ; but they are to blame the 
 little Frenchwoman is to blame " 
 
 " Ha ! you condemn me ! you condemn me ! " cried the old 
 man, in a subdued voice, and with what seemed confusion to 
 Prince Andrei; but then suddenly he sprang up, and 
 screamed, 
 
 " Away ! away with you ! Don't dare to come here again ! " 
 
 Prince Andrei intended to take his departure immediately ; 
 but the Princess Mariya begged him to stay another day. He 
 did not meet his father that day ; the old prince kept in his 
 room, and admitted no one except Mademoiselle Bourienne 
 and Tikhon ; but he inquired several times whether his son 
 had yet gone. On the following day, just before dinner, 
 Prince Andrei went to his little son's apartment. The bloom- 
 ing lad, with his curly hair, just like his mother's, sat on his 
 knee. Prince Andrei began to tell him the story of Bluebeard ; 
 but, right in the midst of it, he lost the thread, and fell into a 
 brown study. He did not give a thought to this pretty 
 little lad, his son, while he held him on his knee, but 
 he was thinking about himself. With a sense of horror, 
 he sought, and failed to find, any remorse in the fact 
 that he had exasperated his father ; and no regret that he was 
 about to leave him after the first quarrel that they had ever 
 had in their lives. More serious than all else was his discov- 
 ery that he did not feel the affection for his son which he 
 hoped to arouse, as of old, by caressing the lad and taking him 
 on his knee.
 
 36 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 " Well, go on, papa ! " said the boy. Prince Andrei, with- 
 out responding, set him down from his knees, and left the 
 room. The moment Prince Andrei suspended his daily occu- 
 pations, and especially the moment he encountered the former 
 conditions of his life, in which he had been engaged in 
 the old, happy days, the anguish of life took possession of him 
 with fresh force ; and he made all haste to leave the scene of 
 these recollections, and to find occupation as soon as possible. 
 
 " Are you really going, Andre ? " asked his sister. 
 
 u Thank God, I can go," replied Prince Andrei. " I am very 
 sorry that you cannot also." 
 
 "What makes you say so ?" exclaimed his sister. "Why 
 do you say so, now that you are going to this terrible war ? 
 and he is so old ! Mademoiselle Bourienne told me that he 
 had asked after you." As soon as she recalled this subject, 
 her lips trembled, and the tears rained down her cheeks. 
 Prince Andrei turned away, and began to pace up and down 
 the room. 
 
 " Oh ! my God ! my God ! " * he cried. " And how do you 
 conceive that any one that such a contemptible creature can 
 bring unhappiness to others ! " he exclaimed, with such an out- 
 burst of anger that it frightened the Princess Mariya. She 
 understood that, in speaking of " such contemptible creatures," 
 he had reference not alone to Mademoiselle Bourienne, who 
 had caused him misery, but also to that man who had destroyed 
 his happiness. 
 
 " Andre ! one thing I want to ask you ; I beg of you," 
 said she, lightly touching his elbow arid gazing at him with 
 her eyes shining through her tears. " I understand you." 
 The Princess Mariya dropped her eyes. " Do not think that 
 sorrow is caused by men. Men are His instruments." She 
 gazed somewhat above her brother's head, with that confident 
 look that people have who are accustomed to look at the place 
 where they know a portrait hangs. " Sorrow is sent by Him, 
 and comes not from men. Men are His instruments ; they are 
 not accountable. If it seem to you that any one is culpable 
 toward you, forget it and forgive. We have no right to pun- 
 ish. And you will find happiness in forgiving." 
 
 " If I were a woman I would, Marie ! Forgiveness is a 
 woman's virtue. But a man has no right and no power to for- 
 give and forget," said he, and, although he was not at that 
 instant thinking of Kuragin, all his unsatisfied vengeance 
 suddenly surged up in his heart. "If the Princess Mariya at 
 * Akh! Bozhe moi .' Bozhe moi!
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 37 
 
 this late day urges me to forgive, it is proof positive that I 
 ought long ago to have punished," he said to himself. And, 
 not stopping to argue with his sister, he began to dream of 
 that joyful moment of revenge when he should meet Kuragin, 
 who (as he knew) had gone to the army. 
 
 The Princess Mariya urged her brother to delay his jour- 
 ney yet another day, assuring him how unhappy her father 
 would be if Andrei went off without a reconciliation with 
 him ; but Prince Andrei replied that in all probability he 
 should soon return from the army, that he would certainly 
 write to his father, and that now the longer he staid the 
 more bitter this quarrel would become. 
 
 " Adieu, Andre ! remember that sorrows come from God, 
 and that men are never accountable for them ; " those were 
 the last words that his sister said as they bade each other 
 farewell. 
 
 " Such is our fate ! " said Prince Andrei to himself as he 
 turned out of the avenue of the Luisogorsky mansion. " She, 
 poor innocent creature, is left to be devoured by this crazy old 
 man. The old man is conscious that he is doing wrong, but 
 he cannot change his nature. My little lad is growing up and 
 enjoying life, though he will become like all the rest of us, 
 deceivers or deceived. I am going to the army for what 
 purpose I myself do not know, and I am anxious to meet a 
 man, whom I despise, so as to give him a chance to kill me 
 and exult over me." 
 
 In days gone by the same conditions of life had existed, but 
 then there was a single purpose ramifying through them and 
 connecting them, but now everything was in confusion. Iso- 
 lated, illogical thoughts, devoid of connection, arose one after 
 another in Prince Andrei's mind. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 PRINCE ANDREI reached the army headquarters toward the 
 first of July. The troops of the first division, commanded by 
 the sovereign in person, were intrenched in a fortified camp 
 on the Drissa; the troops of the second division were in retreat 
 though they were endeavoring to join the first, from which, as 
 the report went, they had been cut off by a strong force of 
 the French. All were dissatisfied with the general conduct of 
 military affairs in the Russian army ; but no one ever dreamed 
 of any of the Russian provinces being invaded, and no one had
 
 38 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 supposed that the war would be carried beyond the western 
 government of Poland. 
 
 Prince Andrei found Barclay de Tolly on the bank of the 
 Drissa. As there was no large town or village within easy 
 reach of the camp, all this enormous throng of generals and 
 courtiers who were present with the army were scattered in 
 the best houses of the little villages for a distance of ten 
 versts from the camp, on both sides of the river. 
 
 Barclay de Tolly was stationed about four versts from the 
 sovereign. 
 
 He gave Bolkonsky a dry and chilling welcome, and, speak- 
 ing in his strong German accent, told him that he should have 
 to send in his name to the sovereign for any definite employ- 
 ment, but proposed that for the time being he should remain 
 on his staff. Anatol Kuragin, whom Prince Andrei hoped to i 
 find at the army, was no longer there ; he had gone to Peters- 
 burg, and this news was agreeable to Bolkonsky. He was 
 absorbed in the interest of being at the very centre of a 
 mighty war just beginning, and he was glad to be, for a short 
 time, freed from the provocation which the thought of 
 Kuragin produced in him. 
 
 During the first four days, as no special duties were required 
 of him, Prince Andrei made the circuit of the whole fortified 
 camp, and by the aid of his natural intelligence and by making 
 inquiries of men who were well informed he managed to 
 acquire a very definite comprehension of the position. But 
 the question whether this camp were advantageous or not 
 remained undecided in his mind. He had already come to the 
 conclusion, founded on his own military experience, that even 
 those plans laid with the profoundest deliberation are of little 
 consequence in battle how plainly he had seen this on the 
 field of Austerlitz ! that everything depends on what was 
 done to meet the unexpected and impossible-to-be-foreseen 
 tactics of the enemy, that all depended on how and by whom 
 the affair was conducted. 
 
 Therefore in order to settle this last question in his own 
 mind Prince Andrei, taking advantage of his position and his 
 acquaintances, tried to penetrate the character of the adminis- 
 tration of the armies, and of the persons and parties that took 
 part in it, and he drew up for his own benefit the following 
 digest of the position of affairs. 
 
 While the sovereign was still at Vilno, the troops had been 
 divided into three armies : the first was placed under command 
 of Barclay de Tolly ; the second under the command of
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 39 
 
 3agration ; the third under command of Tonnasof. The 
 emperor was present with the first division, but, not in his 
 quality of Commander-in-chief. In the orders of the day it 
 was simply announced that the sovereign would not take 
 command, but would simply be present with the army. More- 
 over the sovereign had no personal staff, as would have been 
 ;he case had he been commander-in-chief, but only a staff 
 appropriate to the imperial headquarters. Attached to him 
 were the chief of the imperial staff, the General-Quartermaster 
 Prince Volkonsky, generals, fliigel-adjutants, diplomatic chi- 
 novniks and a great throng of foreigners ; but *these did not 
 form a military staff. Besides these there were attached to 
 lis person, but without special functions, Arakcheyef, the 
 t5X-minister of war ; Count Benigsen, with the rank of senior 
 general ; the grand duke, the Tsesarevitch Konstantin Pavlo- 
 vitch, Count Rumyantsef ; the Chancellor Stein, who had been 
 Minister in Prussia ; Armf eldt, a Swedish general ; Pfuhl, the 
 principal originator of the plan of the campaign; Paulucci, 
 general-adjutant and a Sardinian refugee ; Woltzogen, and 
 many others. 
 
 Although these individuals were present without any spe- 
 cial military function, still by their peculiar position they 
 wielded a powerful influence, and oftentimes the chief of the 
 corps, and even the commander-in-chief, did not know in what 
 capacity Benigsen or the Grand Duke or Arakcheyef or 
 Prince Volkonsky asked questions or proffered advice, and 
 could not tell whether such and such an order, couched in the 
 form of a piece of advice, emanated from the speaker or the 
 sovereign, and whether it was incumbent upon him or not in- 
 cumbent upon him to carry it out. But these were merely a 
 stage accessory; the essential idea why the emperor was 
 present and all these men were present was perfectly palpable 
 bo all from the point of view of courtiers, and in the pres- 
 ence of the sovereign all were courtiers. 
 
 This idea was as follows : The monarch did not assume the 
 title of commander-in-chief, but he exercised control over all the 
 troops ; the men who surrounded him were his aids ; Arakcheyef 
 was the faithful guardian of law and order, and the sovereign's 
 body guard. Benigsen was a landowner in the Vilno government, 
 who, as it were, did les honneurs of the region, and in reality was 
 an excellent general, useful in council, and ready, in case he were 
 needed, to take Barclay's place. The Grand Duke was there 
 because it was a pleasure for him to be. Ex-Minister Stein 
 was there because he was needed to give advice, and because
 
 40 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 the Emperor Alexander had a very high opinion of his per- 
 sonal qualities. Armi'eldt was Napoleon's bitter enemy, and 
 a general possessed of great confidence in his own ability, 
 which always had an influence upon Alexander. Paulucci was 
 there because he was bold and resolute in speech. The gen- 
 eral-adjutants were there because they were always attendant 
 on the sovereign's movements ; and, last and not least, Pfuhl 
 was there because he had conceived a plan for the campaign 
 against Napoleon, and had induced Alexander to place his con- 
 fidence in the expedience of this plan, thereby directing the 
 entire action qf the war. Pfuhl was attended by Woltzogen, 
 a keen, self-conceited cabinet theorist, who scorned all things, 
 and had the skill to dress Pfuhl's schemes in a more pleasing 
 form than Pfuhl himself could. 
 
 In addition to these individuals already mentioned, Rus- 
 sians and foreigners, especially foreigners, who each day 
 proposed new and unexpected plans with that boldness char- 
 acteristic of men engaged in activities in a land not their own, 
 
 there were a throng of subordinates who were present with 
 the army because their principals were there. 
 
 Amid all the plans and voices in this tremendous, restless, 
 brilliant, and haughty world, Prince Andrei distinguished the 
 following sharply outlined subdivisions of tendencies and 
 parties. 
 
 The first party consisted of Pfuhl and his followers, military 
 theorists, who believed that there was such a thing as a 
 science of war, and that this science had its immutable laws 
 
 the laws for oblique movements, for outflanking, and so on. 
 Pfuhl and his followers insisted on retreating into the interior 
 of the country, according to definite principles prescribed by 
 the so-styled science of war, and in every departure from this 
 theory they saw nothing but barbarism, ignorance, or evil inten- 
 tions. To this party belonged the German princes, and Wolt- 
 zogen, Winzengerode, and others ; notably the Germans. 
 
 The second party was diametrically opposed to the first. 
 And, as always happens, they went to quite opposite extremes. 
 The men of this party were those who insisted on making 
 Vilno the base of a diversion into Poland, and demanded to be 
 freed from all preconceived plans. Not only were the leaders 
 of this party the representatives of the boldest activity, but at 
 the same time they were also the representatives of nation- 
 alism, in consequence of which they showed all the more 
 urgency in maintaining their side of the dispute. Such were 
 the Russians Bagration, Yermolof, who was just beginning
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 41 
 
 to come into prominence, and many others. It was at this 
 time that Yermolof s famous jest was quoted extensively : it 
 i was said that he asked the emperor to grant him the favor of 
 1 promoting him to be a German ! The men of this party re- 
 i called Suvorof, and declared that there was no need of making 
 plans or marking the map up with pins, but to fight, to beat 
 ! the foe, not to let him enter Russia, and not to let the army 
 lose heart. 
 
 The third party, in which the sovereign placed the greatest 
 i confidence, consisted of those courtiers who tried to find a 
 happy mean between the two previous tendencies. These 
 men for the most part civilians, and Arakcheyef was in their 
 number thought and talked as men usually talk who have no 
 convictions, and do not wish to show their lack of them. 
 They declared that unquestionably the war, especially with 
 such a genius as Bonaparte, for they now called him Bona- 
 parte again, demanded the profoundest consideration, and 
 a thorough knowledge of the science, and, in this respect, 
 Pfuhl was endowed with genius ; but, at the same time, it was 
 impossible not to acknowledge that theorists were apt to be 
 one-sided, and, therefore, it was impossible to have perfect 
 confidence in them : it was necessary to heed also what Pfuhl's 
 opposers had to say, and also what was said by men who had 
 had practical experience in military affairs, and then to balance 
 the two. The men of this party insisted on retaining the 
 camp along the Drissa, according to Pfuhl's plan, but in 
 changing the movements of the other divisions. 
 
 The fourth decided tendency was the one of which the 
 ostensible representative was the Grand Duke, the Tsesare- 
 vitch * Konstantin, heir-apparent to the throne, who could not 
 forget his disappointment at the battle of Austerlitz, when he 
 rode out at the head of his guards, dressed in casque and 
 jacket as for a parade, expecting to drive the French gallantly 
 before him, and, unexpectedly finding himself within range 
 of the enemy's guns, was by main force involved in the gen- 
 eral confusion. The men of this party showed in their opin- 
 ions both sincerity and lack of sincerity. They were afraid of 
 Napoleon ; they saw that he was strong while they were weak, 
 and they had no hesitation in saying so. They said, " JSToth- 
 tng but misfortune, ignominy, and defeat will, come out of 
 ill this. Here we have abandoned Vilno ; we have abandoned 
 
 * Any son of the Tsar is properly tsarevitch, but the crown prince bears 
 the distinctive title tsesarevitch (literally, son of the Caesar). Count Tolstoi 
 emphasizes his position by using also the term nasty dm/c, successor, heir.
 
 42 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 Vitebsk ; we shall abandon the Drissa in like manner. The 
 only thing left for us to do in all reason is to conclude peace, 
 and as speedily as possible, before we are driven out of Peters- 
 burg." 
 
 This opinion; widely current in the upper spheres of the 
 army, found acceptance also in Petersburg, and was supported 
 by the Chancellor Rumyantsef , who for other reasons of state 
 was also anxious for peace. 
 
 A fifth party was formed by those who were partisans ot 
 Barclay de Tolly not as a man, but simply because he was 
 minister of war and commander-in-chief . These said, " What- 
 ever he is," and that was the way they always began, < 
 " he is an honest, capable man, and he has no superior. Give 
 him actual power because the war can never come to any suc- 
 cessful issue without some one in sole control, and then he 
 will show what he can do, just as he proved it in Finland. 
 We owe it to this Barclay, and to him alone, that our forces 
 are well organized and powerful, and made the retreat to the 
 Drissa without suffering any loss. If now Barclay is replaced 
 by Benigsen all will go to rack and ruin, because Bemgsen 
 made an exhibition of his incapacity in 1807," said the men 
 
 of this party. 
 
 A sixth party the Benigsenists claimed the contrary; 
 that there was no one more capable and experienced than 
 Benigsen, " and, however far they go out of his way, they IJ 
 have to return to him." Let them make their mistakes 
 now ! " And the men of this party argued that our whole 
 retreat to the Drissa was a disgraceful defeat- and an uninter- 
 rupted series of blunders. "The more blunders they make 
 now the better, or, at least, the sooner they will discover that 
 things cannot go on in this way," said they. " Such a man as 
 Barclay is not needed, but a man like Benigsen, who showed 
 what he was in 1807. Napoleon himself has done him justice, 
 and he is a man whose authority all would gladly recognize, 
 and such a man is Benigsen and no one else." 
 
 The seventh party consisted of individuals such as are 
 always found especially around young monarchs and Alex- 
 ander the emperor had a remarkable number of such namely, , 
 generals and flugel-ad jut ants who were passionately devoted j 
 to their sovereign, not in his quality as emperor, but worshipped I 
 him as a man, heartily and disinterestedly, just as Kostof| 
 had worshipped him in 1805, and saw in him not only all 
 virtues but all human qualities. These individuals, although 
 they praised their sovereign's modesty in declining to assume
 
 WAR AfrD PEACE. 43 
 
 the duties of commander-in-chief, still criticised this excess of 
 i modesty, and had only one desire which they insisted upon, 
 | that their adored monarch, overcoming his excessive lack of 
 i confidence in himself, should openly announce that he would 
 ! take his place at the head of his armies, gather around him 
 | the appropriate staff of a commander-in-chief, and, while con- 
 i suiting in cases of necessity with theorists and practical men 
 iof experience, himself lead his troops, who by this mere fact 
 would be roused to the highest pitch of enthusiasm. 
 
 The eighth and by all odds the largest group of individuals, 
 which in comparison with the others all put together would 
 rank as ninety-nine to one, consisted of men who desired 
 neither peace nor war nor offensive operations, nor a defensive 
 camp on the Drissa or anywhere else, nor Barclay, nor the 
 sovereign, nor Pfuhl, nor Benigsen, but simply wished one 
 and the same essential thing : the utmost possible advan- 
 tages and enjoyments for themselves. In these troubled 
 waters of intertangled and complicated intrigues such as 
 abounded at the sovereign's headquarters, it became possible 
 to succeed in many things which would have been infeasible 
 at any other time. One whose sole desire was not to lose his 
 advantageous position was to-day on Pfuhl's side, to-morrow 
 allied with his opponent, on the day following, for the sake 
 merely of shirking responsibility and pleasing the sovereign, 
 would declare that he had 110 opinion in regard to some well- 
 known matter. 
 
 A second, anxious to curry favor, would attract the sover- 
 eign's attention by boisterously advocating at the top of his 
 voice something which the sovereign had merely hinted at the 
 day before, by arguing and yelling at the council meeting, 
 pounding himself in the chest and challenging to a duel any 
 one who took the other side, and thereby show how ready he 
 was to be a martyr for the public weal. 
 
 A third would simply demand between two meetings of the 
 council and while his enemies were out of sight a definitive sub- 
 vention in return for his faithful service of the state, knowing 
 very well that they would never be able to refuse him. A fourth 
 would forever by the merest chance let the sovereign see how 
 overwhelmed with work he was ! A fifth, in order to attain 
 ihis long cherished ambition of being invited to dine at the 
 sovereign's table, would stubbornly argue the right or wrong 
 of some newly conceived opinion and bring up for this purpose 
 more or less powerful and well founded arguments. 
 
 All the men of this party were hungry for rubles, honorary
 
 44 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 crosses, promotions, and- in their pursuit of these things they 
 watched the direction of the weathercock of the sovereign's 
 favor, and just as soon as it was seen that the weathercock 
 pointed in any cue direction all this population of military 
 drones would begin to blow in the same direction so that it 
 was sometimes all the harder for the sovereign to change about 
 to the other side. In this uncertainty of position, in presence 
 of the real danger that was threatening and which impressed 
 upon everything a peculiarly disquieting character, amid this 
 vortex of intrigues, selfish ambitions, collisions, diverse opin- 
 ions and feelings, with all the variety of nationalities repre- 
 sented- by all these men, this eighth and by far the largest 
 party of men, occupied with private interests, gave great com- 
 plication and confusion to affairs in general. \Vhatever ques- 
 tion came up, instantly this swarm of drones, before they had 
 finished their buzzing over the previous theme, would fly off 
 to the new one and deafen every one and entirely drown out 
 the genuine voices who had something of worth to say. 
 
 Just about the time that Prince Andrei arrived at the army, 
 still a ninth party was forming out of all these others, and 
 beginning to let its voice be heard. This was the party of 
 veteran statesmen, men of sound wisdom and experience, who, 
 sharing in none of all these contradictory opinions, were able 
 to look impartially upon all that was going on at headquarters 
 and to devise means for escaping from this vagueness, indecis- 
 ion, confusion, and weakness. 
 
 The men of this party said and thought that nothing but 
 mischief resulted pre-eminently from the presence of the 
 sovereign with a military court at the front, introducing into 
 the army that indeterminate, conditional, and fluctuating irreg- 
 ularity of relations which, however useful at court, were 
 ruinous to the troops ; that it was the monarch's business to 
 govern, and not to direct the army ; that the only cure for all 
 these troubles was for the sovereign and his court, to take 
 their departure ; that the mere fact of the emperor being with 
 the army paralyzed the movements of fifty thousand men whc 
 were required to protect him from personal peril ; that the 
 most incompetent general-in-chief, if he were independent, 
 would be better than the best, hampered by the sovereign's 
 presence. 
 
 While Prince Andrei was at Drissa, without stated position, 
 Shishkof, the imperial secretary, who was one of the chief 
 members of this faction, wrote "the sovereign a letter which 
 Balashof and Arakcheyef agreed to sign. Taking advantage
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 45 
 
 of the permission accorded him by' the sovereign to make 
 suggestions concerning the general course of events, he re- 
 spectfully, and under the pretext that it was necessary for 
 the sovereign to stir the people of the capital to fresh enthu- 
 siasm for this war, in this letter proposed that he should leave 
 the army. 
 
 The fanning of the enthusiasm of the people by the sover- 
 eign and his summons to defend the fatherland. the very 
 thing which led to the ultimate triumph of Russia and to 
 which so largely his personal presence in Moscow contributed 
 was therefore offered to the emperor and accepted by him 
 as a pretext for quitting the army. 
 
 CHAPTEE X. 
 
 THIS letter had not as yet been placed in the sovereign's 
 hands, when Barclay at dinner informed Bolkonsky that his 
 majesty would be pleased to have a personal interview with 
 him, in order to make some inquiries concerning Turkey, and 
 that he, Prince Andrei, was to present himself at Benigsen's 
 lodgings at six o'clock that evening. 
 
 On that day a report had been brought to the sovereign's 
 residence concerning a new movement on the part of Napo- 
 leon which might prove dangerous for the army a report 
 which afterward proved to be false, however. And on that 
 very same morning, Colonel Michaud, in company with the 
 emperor, had ridden around the fortifications on the Drissa 
 and had proved conclusively to the sovereign that this forti- 
 fied camp, which had been laid out under Pfuhl's direction 
 and had been up to that time considered a chef cFceuvre of tac- 
 tical skill destined to be the ruin of Napoleon, that this 
 camp was a piece of folly and a source of danger for the Rus- 
 sian army. 
 
 * Prince Andrei proceeded to the lodging of General Benig- 
 sen, who had established himself in a small villa on the very 
 bank of the river. Neither Benigsen nor the sovereign was 
 there ; but Chernuishef, the emperor's fltigel-adjutant, received 
 Bolkonsky and explained that the sovereign had gone with 
 General Benigsen and the Marchese Paulucci for a second 
 time that day on a tour of inspection of the fortified camp of 
 the Drissa, as to the utility of which serious doubts had begun 
 to be conceived. 
 
 Chernuishef was sitting with a French novel at one of the
 
 46 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 windows of the front room. This room had at one time 
 probably been a ballroom ; there still stood in it an organ on 
 which were piled a number of rugs, and in one corner stood 
 the folding bed belonging to Benigsen's adjutant. This adju- 
 tant was there. Apparently overcome by some merry-making 
 or perhaps by work he lay stretched out on the bed and was 
 fast asleep. 
 
 Two doors led from this hall ; one directly into the former 
 drawing-room, the other to the right into the library. Through 
 the first voices were heard conversing in German and occa- 
 sionally in French. Yonder, in that former drawing-room were 
 gathered together at the sovereign's request not a council of 
 war for the "sovereign was fond of indefiniteness but a 
 meeting of a number of individuals whose opinions concerning 
 the existing difficulties he was anxious of ascertaining. It 
 was not a council of war but a sort of committee of gentlemen 
 convened to explain certain questions for the sovereign's 
 personal gratification. To this semi-council were invited the 
 Swedish general Armfeldt, General-adjutant Woltzogen, 
 Winzengerode, whom Napoleon had called a fugitive French 
 subject, Michaud, Toll, who was also not at all a military man. 
 Count Stein, and finally Pf uhl himself, who, as Prince Andrei 
 had already heard, was la cheville ouvriere the mainspring 
 of the whole affair. Prince Andrei had an opportunity of 
 getting a good look at him, as Pfuhl arrived shortly after he 
 did and came into the drawing-room, where he stood for a 
 minute or two talking with Chernuishef. 
 
 Pfuhl, dressed like a Russian general in a uniform that was 
 clumsily constructed and set on him without the slightest 
 attempt at a graceful fit, seemed to Prince Andrei at first 
 glance like an old acquaintance, although he had never seen 
 him before. He was of the same type as Weirother and Mack 
 and Schmidt and many other German theorist-generals whom 
 Prince Andrei had seen in 1805 ; but he was more character 
 istic of the type than all the rest. Never in his life had 
 Prince Andrei seen a German theorist who so completely 
 united in himself all that was typical of those Germans. 
 
 Pfuhl was short and very thin, but big-boned, of coarse, 
 healthy build, with a broad pelvis and prominent shoulder- 
 blades. His face was full of wrinkles, and he had deep-set 
 eyes. His hair had been evidently brushed in some haste for- 
 ward by the temples, but behind it stuck out in droll little 
 tufts. Looking round sternly and nervously, he came into the 
 room as though he were afraid of every one. With awkward
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 47 
 
 gesture grasping his sword, he turned to Chernuishef and 
 asked in German where the emperor was. It was evident that 
 he was anxious to make the round of the room as speedily as 
 possible, to put an end to the salutations and greetings and to 
 seat himself before the map, where alone he felt that he was 
 quite at home. He abruptly tossed his head in reply to Cher- 
 nuishef's answer and smiled ironically at the report that the 
 sovereign had gone to inspect the fortifications which Pfuhl 
 himself had constructed in accordance with his theory. In a 
 deep, gruff voice characteristic of all self-conceited Germans 
 he grumbled to himself, " Stupid blockhead ! Ruin the whole 
 business ; pretty state of things will be the result." * 
 
 Prince Andrei did not listen to him and was about to go, 
 but Chernuishef introduced him to Pfuhl, remarking that he 
 had just come from Turkey, where the war had been brought 
 to a successful termination. Pfuhl gave a fleeting glance not 
 so much at Prince Andrei as through him, and muttered with 
 a smile, " That must have been a fine tactical campaign." f And, 
 scornfully smiling, he went into the room where the voices 
 were heard. 
 
 Evidently Pfuhl, who was always disposed to be ironical 
 and irritable, was on this day especially stirred up because they 
 had dared without him to inspect his camp and criticise him. 
 
 Prince Andrei, simply by this brief interview with Pfuhl, 
 re-enforced by his experiences at Austerlitz, had gained a suffi- 
 ciently clear insight into the character of this man. Pfuhl was 
 one of those hopelessly, unalterably self-conceited men who 
 would suffer martyrdom rather than yield his opinion, a genu- 
 ine German, for the very reason that Germans alone are abso- 
 lutely certain, in their own minds, of the solid foundation 
 of that abstract idea, Science ; that is to say, the assumed 
 knowledge of absolute truth. 
 
 The Frenchman is self-conceited because he considers him- 
 self individually, both as regards mind and body, irresistibly 
 captivating to either men or women. The Englishman is con- 
 ceited through his absolute conviction that he is a citizen of 
 the most fortunately constituted kingdom in the world, and 
 because, as an Englishman, he knows, always and in all cir- 
 cumstances what it is requisite for him to do, and also knows 
 that all that he does as an Englishman is correct beyond cavil. 
 The Italian is conceited because he is excitable, and easily f or- 
 
 * Dummkopf ! Zum Grunde die gnnze Geschichte 's wird was ge< 
 scheites drans werden. 
 
 t Da muss ein schoner tactischer Krieg gewesen *efo.
 
 48 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 gets himself and others. The Russian is conceited for the 
 precise reason that he knows nothing, and wishes to know 
 nothing, because he believes that it is impossible to know any- 
 thing. But the German is conceited in a worse way than all the 
 rest, because he imagines that he knows the truth, the sci- 
 ence which he has himself invented, but which for him is 
 absolute truth ! 
 
 Evidently such a man was Pfuhl. He had his science, 
 the theory of oblique movements, which he had deduced from 
 the history of the wars of Friedrich the Great, and every- 
 thing that he saw in the warfare of more recent date seemed 
 to him nonsense, barbarism, ignorant collisions in which, on 
 both sides, so many errors were committed that these wars had 
 no right to be called wars. They did not come under his theory, 
 and could not be judged as a subject for science. 
 
 In 1806 Pfuhl had been one of these who elaborated the plan 
 of the campaign that culminated at Jena and Auerstadt, but 
 the unfortunate issue of that campaign did not open his eyes 
 to see the slightest fault in his theory. On the contrary, the 
 fact that his theory had been, to a certain extent, abandoned, 
 was in his mind the sole cause of the whole failure ; and he 
 said, in the tone of self-satisfied irony characteristic of him, 
 " Ich sagte ja dass die ganze Geschichte zum Ten f el gehen 
 iverde, I predicted that the whole thing would go to the 
 deuce." 
 
 Pfuhl was one of those theorists who are so in love with 
 their theory that they forget the object of the theory, its rela- 
 tion to practice. In his fanatic devotion to his theory he hated 
 everything practical, and could not listen to it. He even de- 
 lighted in the failure of any enterprise, because this failure, 
 resulting from the abandonment of theory for practice, was 
 proof positive to him of how correct his theory was. 
 
 He spoke a few words with Prince Andrei and Chernuishef 
 about the existing war with the expression of a man who knew 
 in advance that all was going to the dogs, and that he, for one, 
 did not much regret the fact. The little tufts of unkempt hair 
 that stuck out on his occiput, and the hastily brushed love- 
 locks around his temples, spoke eloquently of this. 
 
 He went into the adjoining room, and instantly they heard 
 the deep-set and querulous sounds of his voice.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 49 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 PRINCE ANDREI had no time to let his eyes follow Pfuhl, as 
 Count Benigsen just at that moment came hastily into the 
 room, and, inclining his head to Bolkonsky, but not pausing, 
 went directly into the library, giving his adjutant some order 
 as he went. Benigsen had hurried home in advance of the 
 sovereign in order to make some preparations, and to be there 
 to receive him. 
 
 Chernuishef and Prince Andrei went out on the steps. The 
 emperor, with an expression of fatigue, was dismounting from 
 his horse. The Marchese Paulucci was making some remark. 
 The sovereign, with his head bent over to the left, was listen- 
 ing with a discontented air to Paulucci, who was speaking with 
 his usual vehemence. The sovereign started forward, evidently 
 desirous of cutting short this harangue ; but the flushed and 
 excited Italian, forgetting the proprieties, followed him, still 
 talking, 
 
 " As for the man who advised this camp, the camp of Drissa," 
 Paulucci was saying just as the sovereign, mounting the steps 
 and perceiving Prince Andrei, glanced into his face, though he 
 did not recognize him. " As to him, Sire," pursued Paulucci, 
 in a state of desperation, as though quite unable to control 
 himself , " as for the man who advised this camp of Drissa, 
 I see no other alternative for him than the insane asylum or 
 the gallows." * 
 
 The sovereign, not waiting for the Italian to 'finish what he 
 had to say, and as though not even hearing his words, came 
 closer to Bolkonsky, and, recognizing him, addressed him gra- 
 ciously, 
 
 " Very glad to see you. Come in where the gentlemen are, 
 and wait for me." 
 
 The sovereign went into the library. He was followed by 
 Prince Piotr Mikhailovitch Volkonsky and Baron Stein, and 
 the door was shut. Prince Andrei, taking advantage of the 
 sovereign's permission, joined Paulucci, whom he had known 
 in Turkey, and went into the drawing-room where the council 
 was held. 
 
 Prince Piotr Mikhailovitch Volkonsky held the position of 
 nachalnik, or chief of the sovereign's staff. Volkonsky came 
 
 * Quant a celui, Sire, qui a conseillele camp de Drissa, je ne voispasd'au 
 tre alternative que la rnaisonjaune ou le gibet. 
 VOL. 3. 4.
 
 50 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 out of the cabinet and carried "into the drawing-room a quan- 
 tity of maps and papers, and as he deposited them upon the 
 table he communicated the questions in regard to which he was 
 anxious to have the opinions of the gentlemen present. The 
 questions arose from the fact that news, afterwards proved to 
 be false, had been received the night before concerning a move- 
 ment of the French toward outflanking the camp on the 
 Drissa. 
 
 General Armfeldt was the first to begin the debate, and he 
 unexpectedly proposed, as an escape from the impending diffi- 
 culty, that they should choose an entirely new position at a 
 little distance from the highways leading to Moscow and Peters- 
 burg ; and there, as he expressed it, let the army be increased 
 to its full strength, and await the enemy. No one could see 
 any reason for his advocating such a scheme, unless it came 
 from his desire to show that he, as well as the rest, had ideas 
 of his own. 
 
 It was evident that Armfeldt had long ago evolved this 
 scheme, and that he proposed it now not so much with the 
 design of responding to the questions laid before the meeting 
 
 questions which this scheme of his entirely failed to answer 
 
 as it was with the design of using his chance to enunciate it. 
 This was only one of the millions of proposals which, not hav- 
 ing any reference to the character which the war was likely to 
 assume, had equally as good foundations as others of the same 
 sort for successful accomplishment. 
 
 Some of those present attacked his suggestions, others de- 
 fended them. The young Colonel Toll attacked the opinions 
 of the Swedish general more fiercely than the others, and dur- 
 ing the discussion took out of his side pocket a manuscript 
 note-book, which he begged permission to read. In this dif- 
 fusely elaborated manuscript Toll proposed still another plan 
 of campaign, diametrically the opposite of those suggested by 
 Armfeldt and Pfuhl. 
 
 Paulucci, combating Toll, proposed the plan of an advance 
 and attack, which, according to his views, was the only possible 
 way to extricate us from the present suspense, and from the 
 " trap/'' as he called the camp on the Drissa, in which we now 
 found ourselves. 
 
 During the course of these discussions and criticisms Pfuhi 
 and Woltzogen, his interpreter (his "bridge," in Court par- 
 lance), maintained silence. Pfuhl merely snorted scornfully 
 and turned away, signifying that he would never sink- so low 
 as to reply to all this rubbish to which he was now listening.
 
 WAR AND PEACE, 51 
 
 So when Prince Volkonsky, as chairman of the meeting, called 
 upon him to express his opinion, he merely said, 
 
 "Why do you ask me? General Armfeldt has proposed a 
 beautiful position, with the rear exposed, and you have heard 
 about the offensive operations proposed by this Italian gentle- 
 man. Sehr schon ! Or the retreat. Auch gut ! So why do 
 you ask me ? " he replied ; " for, you see, you yourselves know 
 more about all this than I do." 
 
 But when Volkonsky frowned, and said that he asked his 
 opinion in the name of the sovereign, then Pfuhl got up, and, 
 growing suddenly excited, began to speak : 
 
 " You have spoiled everything, you have thrown everything 
 into confusion. You pretend to know more about the whole 
 thing than I do, but here you are coming to me now. How can 
 things be remedied ? There's no possibility of remedying 
 them. It is necessary to carry out to the letter my design, on 
 the lines which I have laid down," said he, pounding the table 
 with his bony knuckles. " Where is the difficulty ? Kubbish ! 
 Kinderspiel ! " He stepped up to the table and began to talk 
 rapidly, scratching with his finger-nail on the map, and demon- 
 strating that no contingency could alter the effectiveness of 
 the camp on the Drissa ; that everything had been foreseen, 
 and that if the enemy were actually to outflank them, then the 
 enemy would be inevitably annihilated. 
 
 Paulucci, who did not understand German, began to question 
 him in French. Woltzogen came to the aid of his leader, who 
 spoke French but badly, and began to translate his words, 
 though he could hardly keep up with Pfuhl, who rapidly de- 
 monstrated that everything, everything, not only what had 
 happened but whatever could possibly happen, had been pro- 
 vided for in his plan, and that if there were any complications 
 the whole blame lay simply in the fact that his plan had not 
 been accurately carried out. He kept smiling ironically as he 
 made his demonstration, and finally he scornfully stopped ad- 
 ducing arguments, just as a mathematician ceases to verify the 
 various steps of a problem which has once been found correctly 
 solved. Woltzogen took his place, proceeding to explain in 
 French his ideas, and occasionally turning to Pfuhl with a 
 " Nicht wahr, Excellent ? " for confirmation. 
 
 Pfuhl, like a man so excited in a battle that he attacks his 
 own side, cried testily to his own faithful follower, to Woltzo- 
 gen, " Why, of course ; it's as plain as daylight." * 
 
 Paulucci and Michaud both at once fell on Woltzogen in 
 * Nunjal was soil denn da noch expliziert werden I
 
 52 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 French, Armfeldt addressed a question to Pfuhl in German^ 
 Toll explained the matter in Kussian to Prince Volkonsky. 
 Prince Andrei listened without speaking, and watched the pro- 
 ceedings. 
 
 Of all these individuals the exasperated, earnest, and ab- 
 surdly self-conceited Pfuhl awoke the most sympathy in Prince 
 Andrei. He alone, of all present, evidently had no taint of 
 self-seeking, nor had he any hatred of any one, but simply 
 desired that his plan, elaborated from his theory which had 
 been deduced from his studies during long years, should be car- 
 ried into execution. He was ridiculous, his use of sarcasm 
 made him disagreeable ; but at the same time he awakened 
 involuntary respect by his boundless devotion to an idea. 
 
 Besides, in all the remarks made by those who were present, 
 with the sole exception of Pfuhl's, there was one common fea- 
 ture which had never been manifested in the council of war 
 in the year 1805, and this was a panic fear, even though 
 sophisticated, in presence of the genius of Napoleon, which 
 showed itself in every argument. They took it for granted 
 that Napoleon could do anything. They looked for him on 
 every side, and by the magic of his terrible name each one of 
 them demolished the proposals of the other. Pfuhl alone, it 
 seemed, regarded even Napoleon as a barbarian, like all the 
 other opponents of his theory. 
 
 Over and above his feeling of respect for Pfuhl, Prince Andrei 
 was conscious also of a feeling of pity for the man. By the 
 tone in which he was addressed by the courtiers, by the way 
 in which Paulucci had permitted himself to speak of him to 
 the emperor, and, above all, by a certain desperate expression 
 manifested by Pfuhl himself, it was plain to see that the others 
 knew, and he himself felt, that his fall was at hand. And, 
 aside from his self-conceit and his grumbling German irony, 
 he was pitiable by reason of his hair brushed forward into little 
 love-locks on his temples, and the little tufts standing out on 
 his occiput. Although he did his best to dissimulate it under 
 the guise of exasperation and scorn, he was in despair because 
 his only chance of showing his theory on a tremendous scale, 
 and proving it before all the world, was slipping from him. 
 
 The discussion lasted a long time, and the longer it lasted 
 the more heated grew the arguments, which were like quarrels 
 by reason of the raised voices and personalities ; and the less 
 possible was it to come to any general conclusion from all that 
 was said. Prince Andrei, listening to this polyglot debate and 
 these propositions, plans, and counter-plans, and shouts, was
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 53 
 
 simply astonished at what they all said. The idea which had 
 early and often suggested itself to him during the time of his 
 former military service, that there was not, and could not 
 be, any such thing as a military science, and consequently could 
 not be any so-called military genius, now seemed to him a 
 truth beyond a peradventure. 
 
 " How. can there be any theory and science in a matter the 
 conditions and -circumstances of which are unknown and can- 
 not be determined, in which the force employed by those 
 who make the war is still less capable of measurement ? No 
 one can possibly know what will be the position of our army 
 and that of the enemy's a day from now, and no one can know 
 what is the force of this or that division. Sometimes when 
 there is no coward in the front to cry, 'We are cut off,' and 
 to start the panic, and there is a jovial, audacious man there 
 to shout, ' Hurrah ! ' . a division of five thousand is worth 
 thirty thousand, as was the case at Schongraben ; and sometimes 
 fifty thousand will fly be'fore eight, as happened at Aus- 
 terlitz. What science, then, can there be in such a business, 
 where nothing can be pre-determined, as in any practical busi- 
 ness, and where everything depends on numberless conditions, 
 the resolving of which is defined at some one moment, but 
 when no one can possibly foretell. Armfeldt says that our 
 army is cut off, and Paulucci declares that we have got the 
 French army between two fires. Michaud says that the use- 
 lessness of the camp on the Drissa consists in this, that the 
 river is back of it, while Pfuhl declares that therein consists 
 its strength. Toll proposes one plan, Armfeldt proposes 
 another, and all are good and all are bad, and the advantages 
 of each and every proposition can be proven only at the 
 moment when the event occurs. And why do they all use the 
 term, ' military genius ' ? Is that man a genius who manages 
 to keep his army well supplied with biscuits, and commands 
 them to go, some to the left and some to the right ? Merely 
 because military men are clothed with glory and power, and 
 crowds of sycophants are always ready to flatter Power, ascrib- 
 ing to it the inappropriate attributes of genius. On the other 
 hand, the best generals whom T have ever known were stupid 
 or absent-minded men. The best was Bagration ; N&poleon 
 himself called him so. And Bonaparte himself ! I remember 
 his self-satisfied and narrow-minded face on the field of Aus- 
 terlitz. A good leader on the field of battle needs not genius 
 or any of the special qualities so much as he needs the exact 
 opposite, or the lack of these highest human qualities love,
 
 54 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 poetry, affection, a philosophical, investigating scepticism. 
 He must be narrow-minded, firmly convinced that what he is 
 doing is absolutely essential (otherwise he will not have pa- 
 tience), and then only will he be a brave leader. God pity him 
 if he is a man who has any love for any one, or any pity, or 
 has any scruples about right or wrong. It is perfectly com- 
 prehensible that in old times they invented a theory of gen- 
 iuses because they held power. Credit for success in battle 
 depends not upon them but upon that man in the ranks who 
 cries, ' They are on us,' or who shouts, ' Hurrah.' And only 
 in the ranks can you serve with any assurance that you are 
 of any service." 
 
 Thus mused Prince Andrei as he listened to the arguments, 
 and he came out of his brown study only when Paulucci 
 called him and the meeting was already adjourned. 
 
 On the following day, during a review, the sovereign asked 
 Prince Andrei where he preferred to serve, and Prince Andrei 
 forever lost caste in the eyes of the courtiers because he did 
 not ask for a place near the sovereign's person, but asked per- 
 mission to enter active service. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 KOSTOF, before the opening of the campaign, received a letter 
 from his parents, in which, after briefly announcing Natasha's 
 illness and the rupture of the engagement with Prince Andrei, 
 this rupture, they explained, was Natasha's own work, 
 they again urged him to retire from the service and come 
 home. 
 
 Nikolai, on receipt of this letter, made no attempt to secure 
 either a furlough or permission to go upon the retired list, but 
 wrote his parents that he was very sorry for Natasha's illness 
 and breach with her lover, and that he would do all that he 
 possibly could in order to fulfil their desires. He wrote a 
 separate letter to Sonya. 
 
 " Adored friend of my heart," he wrote, "nothing except 
 honor could keep me from returning home. But just now, at 
 the opening of the campaign, I should consider myself dis- 
 
 faced not only before all my comrades but in my own eyes if 
 were to prefer my pleasure to my duty, and my love to my 
 coTintry. But this is our last Separation. Be assured that im- 
 mediately after the war, if I am alive and you still love me, I
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 55 
 
 will give up everything and fly to thee to clasp thee forever 
 to my ardent heart ! " 
 
 He was telling the truth : it was only the opening of the 
 campaign that detained Nikolai, and prevented him from ful- 
 filling his promise by at once returning home and marrying 
 Sonya. The autumn at Otradnoye, with its sport, and the 
 winter with the Christmas holidays, and his love for Sonya, 
 had opened up before him a whole perspective of the pleasures 
 of a country nobleman, and of domestic contentment, which he 
 had never known before and which now beckoned to him with 
 their sweet allurements. 
 
 " A glorious wife, children, a good pack of hunting dogs, a 
 leash of ten or twenty spirited greyhounds, the management 
 of the estate, the neighbors and service at the elections," he 
 said to himself. But now there was a war in prospect, and he 
 was obliged to remain with his regiment. And since this was 
 a matter of necessity, Nikolai Kostof, in accordance with his 
 character, was content with the life which he led in the regi- 
 ment, and had the skill to arrange it so that it was agreeable. 
 
 On his return from his furlough, having met with a cordial 
 reception from his comrades, Nikolai was sent out to secure 
 fresh horses , and he brought back with him from Little 
 Russia an excellent remount, such as gladdened his own heart, 
 and procured for him the praise of his superiors. During his 
 absence, he had been promoted to the rank of rotmistr, or cap- 
 tain of cavalry, and, when the regiment was restored to a war 
 footing, with increased complement, he was put in charge of 
 his former squadron. 
 
 The campaign had begun; the regiment was moved x into 
 Poland, double pay was granted ; there were new officers 
 present, new men and horses, and, above all, there was an in- 
 crease of that excitement and bustle which always accompanies 
 the beginning of a campaign ; and Kostof, recognizing his ad- 
 vantageous position in the regiment, gave himself up, heart 
 and soul, to the pleasures and interests of military service, 
 although he knew well that, sooner or later, he would have to 
 leave it. 
 
 The troops evacuated Vilno for various complicated reasons, 
 imperial, political, and tactical. For there, at headquarters, 
 every step of the retreat was accompanied by a complicated 
 play of interests, arguments, and passions. For the hussars of 
 the Pavlogradsky regiment, all this backward movement, in 
 the best part of the summer, with abundance of provisions, 
 was a most simple and enjoyable affair. At headquarters,
 
 56 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 men might lose heart, and grow nervous, and indulge in in- 
 trigues to their hearts' content, but in the ranks no one thought 
 of asking where or wherefore they were moving. If they in- 
 dulged in regrets at the retreat, it was simply because they 
 were compelled to leave pleasant quarters and the pretty 
 Polish pani. If it occurred to any one that affairs were going 
 badly, then, as became a good soldier, the man who had such 
 a thought would try to be jovial, and not think at all of the 
 general course of events, but only of what nearest concerned 
 himself. 
 
 At first, they were agreeably situated near Vilno, having 
 jolly acquaintances among the Polish landed proprietors, and 
 constantly expecting the sovereign, and other commanders 
 highest in station, to review them, and as constantly being 
 disappointed. 
 
 Then came the order to retire to Swienciany, and to destroy 
 all provisions that they could not carry away with them. 
 Swienciany was memorable to the hussars simply because it was 
 the " drunken camp," as the entire army called it, from their 
 stay at the place, and because many complaints had been made 
 of the troops having taken unfair advantage of the order 
 to forage for provisions, and had included under this head 
 horses and carriages and rugs stolen from the Polish pans, 
 or nobles. 
 
 Eostof had a vivid remembrance of, Swienciany, because on 
 the first day of their arrival at the place he had dismissed a 
 quartermaster, and had not been able to do anything with the 
 men of his squadron, all of whom were tipsy, having, without 
 his knowledge, brought away five barrels of old beer. 
 
 From Swienciany, they had retired farther, and then farther 
 still, until they reached the Drissa ; and then they had retired 
 from the Drissa, all the time approaching the Russian front- 
 ier. 
 
 On the 25th of July, the Pavlogradsui, for the first time, took 
 part in a serious engagement. 
 
 On the 24th of July, the evening before the engagement, 
 there was a severe thunder-storm, with rain and hail. That 
 summer of the year 1812 was throughout remarkable for its 
 tempests. 
 
 Two squadrons of the Pavlogradsui had bivouacked in a 
 field of rye, already eared, but completely trampled down by 
 the horses and cattle. It was raining in torrents, and Rostof, 
 with a young officer named Ilyin, who was his protege, was 
 sitting under the shelter of a sort of wigwam, extemporized
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 57 
 
 at short notice. An officer of their regiment, with long mus- 
 taches bristling forth and hiding his Cheeks, came along, on 
 his way to headquarters, and, being oVertaken by the rain, 
 asked shelter of Kostof. 
 
 " Count, I have just come from headquarters. Have you 
 heard of Rayevsky's great exploit ? " And the officer pro- 
 ceeded to relate the particulars of the battle of Saltanovo, 
 which he had learned about at headquarters. 
 
 Rostof, hunching his shoulders as the water trickled down 
 his neck, lighted his pipe, and listened negligently, now and 
 then giving a look at the young officer Ilyin, who was squeezed 
 in close to him. This officer, a lad of only sixteen, had not 
 been very long connected with the regiment, and was now in 
 the same relation to Rostof that Rostof had borne toward 
 Denisof seven years before. Ilyin had taken Rostof as 
 his pattern in every respect, and loved him as a woman 
 might. 
 
 The officer with the long mustaches, Zdrzhinsky by name, 
 declared emphatically that the dike at Saltanovo was the Ther- 
 mopylse of the Russians, and that the exploit performed by 
 General Rayevsky was worthy of the deeds of antiquity. 
 Zdrzhinsky described how Rayevsky went out on the dike, 
 with his two sons, under a deadly fire, and, side by side with 
 them, rushed to the attack. 
 
 Rostof listened to the story, and not only had nothing to 
 say in response to the narrator's enthusiasm, but, on tiB con- 
 trary, had the air of a man ashamed of what is told him, 
 although he has no intention of rebutting it. 
 
 Rostof, after the battle of Austerlitz, and the campaign of 
 1807, knew, from his own personal experience, that those who 
 talk of military deeds always lie ; just as he himself had lied 
 in relating such things. In the second place, his experience 
 had taught him that, in a battle, every event is quite the re- 
 verse of what we might imagine and relate it. And, there- 
 fore, he took no stock in Zdrzhinsky 's story, and was not pleased 
 with Zdrzhinsky himself; who, with his cheeks hidden by 
 those long mustaches, had the habit of leaning over close, to 
 the face of the person to whom he was talking; and then-, 
 besides, he was in the way in the narrow hut. 
 
 Rostof looked at him without speaking. "In the first 
 place, there must have been such a crush and confusion on the 
 dike which they were charging that even if Rayevsky had 
 led his sons upon it, it could not have had any effect upon" 
 any one gave perhaps a dozen men who were in his immediate.
 
 58 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 vicinity," thought Eostof. "The rest could not have seen 
 at all how or with whom Eayevsky was rushing upon the 
 dike. And then tho'se who did see it could not have been 
 very greatly stimulated, because what would they have cared 
 for Eayevsky's affectionate paternal feeling, when the only 
 thing of interest to them was the caring for their own 
 skin! Then again, the fate of the country in no wise 
 depended on whether they took the dike at Saltanovo or 
 not, as is supposed to have been the case at Thermopylae. And 
 therefore what was the use of risking such a sacrifice ? And, 
 then, why should he have exposed his children in the affair ? 
 I should not have exposed my brother Petya to it, no, nor 
 even this Ilyin here, though he is no relation to me but a 
 good fellow all the same but I should have tried to put 
 them safe out of harm's way somewhere," pursued Eostof, in 
 his thoughts, all the while listening to Zdrzhinsky. But he 
 did not speak his thoughts aloud ; in regard to this also he 
 had learned wisdom by experience. He knew that this story 
 redounded to the glory of our arms, and therefore it was re- 
 quisite to make believe that he had no doubt of it. And so 
 he did. 
 
 "Well, there's one thing, I can't stand this," exclaimed 
 Ilyin, perceiving that Eostof was not pleased with Zdrzhin- 
 sky 's chatter ; " my stockings and my shirt are wet through, 
 and it is running under me here. I am going in search of 
 shelter. It seems to me it is slacking up." 
 
 Ilyin went out and Zdrzhinsky mounted and rode off. 
 At the end of five minutes Ilyin, slopping through the mud, 
 came hurrying up to the wigwam. 
 
 " Hurrah ! Eostof, come on quick ! There's a tavern a 
 couple of hundred paces from here, and a lot of our men are 
 there already. We can get dry there, and Marie Heinrichoviia 
 is there too." 
 
 Marie Heinrichoviia was the regimental doctor's wife, a 
 pretty young German girl whom the doctor had married in 
 Poland. Either because the doctor had no means or because 
 he did not wish to be separated from his bride during the 
 early period of his married life, he took her wherever he 
 went in his travels with the hussars, and his jealousy became 
 a constant source of amusement and jest among the officers of 
 the regiment. 
 
 Eostof flung his cloak over him, called Lavrushka to follow 
 with the luggage, and went with Ilyin, ploughing through the 
 mud, plodding straight onward amid the now rapidly dimin-
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 59 
 
 ishing shower, into the darkness of the evening, occasionally 
 interrupted by flashes of distant lightning. 
 
 " Rostof, where are you ? " 
 
 " Here I am ! what lightning ! " was what they said as they 
 marched along. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 AT the tavern before which stood the doctor's kibitka or 
 travelling carriage, five officers were already gathered. Marie 
 Heinrichovna, a plump, light-haired German, in jacket and 
 night-cap, was sitting in the front room on a wide bench. 
 Her spouse, the doctor, was asleep behind her. Rostof and 
 Ilyin, welcomed by acclamations and roars of laughter, walked 
 into the room. 
 
 " Ee ! you have something very jolly going on," said Rostof, 
 with a laugh. 
 
 "And what brings you here so late ! " 
 
 " You are fine specimens ! Look at the way they are stream- 
 ing ! Don't drown out our parlor floor ! " 
 
 " Be careful how you daub Marie Heinrichovna's dress," 
 cried the voices. 
 
 Rostof and Ilyin made haste to find a corner where, without 
 shocking Marie Heinrichovna's modesty, they might change 
 their wet garments. They had gone behind the partition to 
 make the change, but the little room, which was scarcely 
 more than a closet, was entirely filled by three officers, sitting 
 on an empty chest, and playing cards by the light of a single 
 candle ; and nothing would induce them to evacuate the 
 place. 
 
 Accordingly, Marie Heinrichovna surrendered her petticoat 
 to them, and they hung it up in place of a screen ; and behind 
 this, Rostof and Ilyin, with Lavrushka's aid, who had brought 
 their saddle-bags, exchanged their wet clothing for dry. 
 
 A fire had been started in a broken-down stove. They pro- 
 cured a board, laid it across a pair of saddles? covered it with 
 a caparison ; the samovar was set up, a bottle-case unpacked, 
 and half a bottle of rum got out, and Marie Heinrichovna was 
 requested to do the honors ; all gathered around her. One 
 offered her a clean handkerchief to wipe her lovely little 
 hands ; another spread his overcoat under her feet, to keep 
 them from the dampness ; a third hung his cloak in the win- 
 dow, to keep away the draught ; a fourth waved the flies away 
 from her husband's face, so that he would not wake up. \
 
 60 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 "Never mind him," said Marie Heinrichovna, smiling tim- 
 idly and happily. "He always sleeps sound and well after he 
 has been up all night." 
 
 "Oh, that is all right, Marie Heinrichovna! " exclaimed the 
 officer. " We must take good care of the doctor. All things 
 are possible ; and he would have pity on me, if ever he came 
 to saw off an arm or a leg for me." 
 
 There were only three glasses ; the water was so muddy 
 that it was impossible to tell whether the tea were too strong 
 or too weak ; and the samouarchik held only water enough for 
 six glasses ; but it was all the more fun to take turns, and to 
 receive, in order of seniority, each his glass from Marie Hein- 
 richovna's plump little hands, though her short nails were not 
 perfectly clean ! 
 
 All the officers seemed to be, and were, in love that evening 
 with Marie Heinrichovna. Even the three who had been 
 playing cards in the little room made haste to throw up their 
 hands, and came out to the samovar, giving way to the common 
 feeling of worship for Marie Heinrichovna's charms. 
 
 Marie Heinrichovna, seeing herself surrounded by these 
 brilliant and courteous young men. fairly beamed with delight, 
 in spite of all her efforts to hide it, and her manifest alarm 
 every time her husband, on the bench back of her, moved in 
 his sleep. 
 
 There was only one spoon, while there was a superfluity of 
 sugar; but, as it was slow in melting, it was decided that 'she 
 should stir each glass of tea in turn. Rostof, having received 
 his glass and seasoned it with rum, asked Marie Heinrichovna 
 to stir it for him. 
 
 " But you haven't put the sugar in, have you?" said she, 
 constantly smiling, as though all that she said, and all that 
 the others said, was as funny as it could be, and concealed 
 some deep hidden meaning. 
 
 " No, I haven't any sugar yet ; all it needs is for you to stir 
 it with your little hand." 
 
 Marie Heinrichovna consented, and began to look for the 
 spoon, which some one had meanwhile appropriated. 
 
 " Stir it with your dainty little finger, Marie Heinrichovna," 
 said Rostof. ' It will make it all the sweeter ! " 
 
 " It's hot ! " exclaimed Marie Heinrichovna, blushing with 
 gratification. 
 
 Ilyin too"k a pail of water, and, throwing a little rum into it, 
 came to Marie Heinrichovna, begging her to stir it with her 
 finger.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 61 
 
 v This is my cup," said he. " Just dip your finger in it, and 
 J will drink it all up." 
 
 When the samovar had been entirely emptied, Rostof took 
 a pack of cards, and proposed to play koroli* with Marie 
 Heinrichovna. Lots were cast as to who should be first to 
 play with her. 
 
 At Rostof s suggestion, the game was so arranged that the 
 one who became " king " should have the privilege of kissing 
 Marie Heinrichovna's little hand ; while he who came out 
 prdkhvost, or provost, as they called the loser, should have to 
 -jtart the samovar afresh for the doctor, when he awoke. 
 
 " Well, but supposing Marie Heinrichovna should be king ? " 
 asked Ilyin. 
 
 "She's our queen anyway. And her word shall be our 
 law ! " 
 
 The game had hardly begun, before the doctor's dishevelled 
 head appeared behind Marie Heinrichovna. He had been 
 awake for some time, and had overheard all that had been 
 said ; and it was perfectly evident that he found nothing very 
 jolly, amusing, or diverting in all that had been said and done. 
 His face was glum and sour. He exchanged no greeting with 
 the officers, but scratched his head, and asked them to make 
 way, so that he could get out. As soon as he had left the room, 
 all the officers burst into a roar of laughter, while Marie Hein- 
 richovna blushed till the tears came, and thereby became all 
 the more fascinating in the eyes of all those young men. 
 
 On his return from out-of-doors, the doctor told his wife, 
 who had now ceased to smile that happy smile, and was looking 
 at him in timid expectation of a scolding, that the storm had 
 passed, and they must go and camp out in their kibitka, other- 
 wise all their effects would be stolen. 
 
 " But I will send a soldier to stand on guard two of them,' 5 
 said Rostof. " What nonsonse, doctor ! " 
 
 " I'll stand guard myself," said Ilyin. 
 
 " No, gentlemen ; you have had your rest, but I have not 
 had any sleep for two nights," said the doctor, and sat down 
 gloomily next his wife, to wait for the end of the game. 
 
 As they saw the doctor's lowering face bent angrily on his 
 wife, the officers became more jovial still, and many of them 
 could not refrain from bursts of merriment, plausible pretexts 
 for which they kept striving to invent. When the doctor went 
 
 * Koroli, Kings, is a South Russian game at cards, somewhat like the 
 French games of ecarte and triomphe. The winner is called korol t king, and 
 can make the other pay a forfeit.
 
 62 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 out, taking his wife with him, and ensconced themselves in 
 the snug little kibitka for the night, the officers wrapped 
 themselves up in their damp cloaks and lay down anywhere in 
 the tavern ; but it was long before they could go to sleep, 
 because of the talk that still went on ; some of them recalling 
 the doctor's jealous fear, and the doktorsha's jollity ; while 
 others went out on the steps, and came back to report what 
 was going on in the kibitka. 
 
 Several times, Rostof, muffling up his ears, tried to go to 
 sleep ; but then some one would make a remark, and arouse 
 his attention ; and again the conversation would go on, and 
 again they would break out into nonsensical, merry laughter, 
 as though they were children. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 IT was three o'clock in the morning, and no one had caught 
 a wink of sleep, when fche quartermaster made his appearance 
 with the orders to proceed to the little village of Ostrovno. 
 
 Still chattering and laughing as before, the officers made 
 haste to get ready ; they again set up the samovar, with the . 
 same dirty water. But Rostof, -not waiting for tea, started 
 off for his squadron. 
 
 It was already growing light , the rain had ceased ; the 
 clouds were scattering. It was damp and cold especially 
 in well-soaked clothes. As they came out of the tavern, 
 Rostof and Ilyin looked at the doctor's leathered kibitka, the 
 leathered cover 01 which, wet with the rain, gleamed in the 
 early morning twilight, while the doctor's long legs protruded 
 from under the apron ; and, in the interior, among the 
 cushions, the doktorsha's nightcap could be dimly seen, and 
 heard the measured breathing, as she slept. 
 
 " Fact, she's very pretty ! " said Rostof to Ilyin, who ac- 
 companied him. 
 
 " Yes, what a charming woman she is ! " replied the other, 
 with all the seriousness of sixteen. 
 
 Within half an hour, the squadron was drawn up on the 
 road. The command was heard : " To saddle." The men 
 crossed themselves, and proceeded to mount. Rostof, taking 
 the lead, gave the command, " Marsch ! " and, filing off four 
 abreast, the hussars, with the sound of hoofs splashing in the 
 pools, the clinking of sabres, and subdued conversation, started
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 63 
 
 along the broad road, lined with birch-trees, and following the 
 infantry and artillery, which had gone on ahead. 
 
 Scattere,"!. purplish blue clouds, growing into crimson in the 
 east, were swiftly fleeting before the wind. It was growing 
 lighter and lighter. More distinguishable became the crisp 
 grass which always grows on country cross-roads ; it was still 
 wet with the evening's rain, the pendulous foliage of the 
 birches, also dripping with moisture, shook in the wind, and 
 tossed aside the sparkling drops. Clearer and clearer grew 
 the faces of the soldiers. Rostof rode along with Ilyin, who 
 was his inseparable companion ; they kept to one side of the 
 road, which led between a double row of trees. 
 
 Rostof, during this campaign, had permitted himself to ride 
 a Cossack horse, instead of his regular horse of the line. Be- 
 ing both a connoisseur and a huntsman, he had recently 
 selected a strong, mettlesome, dun-colored pony, from the Don, 
 which no one could think of matching in a race. It was a 
 perfect delight for Rostof to ride on this steed. His thoughts 
 now ran on horses, the beauty* of the morning, the doctor's 
 wife, and not once did he let the possibility of serious danger 
 occur to him. 
 
 In days gone by, Rostof, on approaching an engagement, 
 would have felt a pang of dismay ; now he experienced not 
 the slightest sensation of timidity. He was devoid of all fear, 
 not because he was wonted to fire it is impossible to become 
 wonted to danger but rather because he had learned to con- 
 trol his heart in the presence of danger. On going into an 
 engagement, he had accustomed himself to think about every- 
 thing except the one thing which would have been most 
 absorbing of all the impending peril. In spite of all his 
 efforts, in spite of all his self-reproaches for his cowardice, 
 during the first term of his service, he had not been able to 
 reach this point ; but, in the course of years, it had come of 
 itself. He rode now with Ilyin, side by side, between the 
 birch-trees, occasionally tearing off a leaf from a down-hanging 
 branch, occasionally prodding the horse in the groin, occasion- 
 ally, not even turning round, handing his exhausted pipe to the 
 hussar just behind him, with such a calm and unconcerned ap- 
 pearance that one would have thought he was riding for pleasure. 
 
 He felt a pang of pity to look at Ilyin's excited face, as he 
 rode along, talking fast and nervously. He knew from expe- 
 rience that painful state of mind at the expectation of danger 
 and death, which the young cornet was now experiencing, and 
 he knew that nothing but time could cure him.
 
 64 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 As soon as the sun came into sight, in the clear strip of sky 
 below the clouds, the wind died down, as though it dared not 
 mar in the slightest degree the perfect beauty of the summer 
 morning after the storm ; the drops still fell from the trees, 
 but it was now broad daylight and all was calm and still. 
 
 The sun came up full and round, poised on the horizon, and 
 then mounted and disappeared behind a long, narrow cloud. 
 But, in the course of a few minutes, it burst forth brighter 
 than ever on the upper edge of the cloud, cutting its edge. 
 
 The world was full of light and brilliancy. And simulta- 
 neously with this burst of light, and as though saluting it, 
 rang out the heavy booming of cannon at the front. 
 
 Eostof had no time to ponder and make up his mind how 
 far distant these cannon-shots were, when an adjutant from 
 Count Ostermann-Tolstoi came galloping up from Vitebsk, 
 with the order to advance with all speed. 
 
 The squadron outstripped the infantry and artillery, which 
 were also hurrying forward, plunged down a hill, and, dashing 
 through a village deserted of its inhabitants, galloped up a 
 slope at the other side. The horses were all of a lather with 
 sweat, the men flushed and breathless. 
 
 " Halt ! Dress ranks," rang out the command of the division 
 leader, at the front. " Guide left ! Shagom marsch ! " (that 
 is, forward at a foot-pace) again rang the command. And the 
 hussars rode along the line of the troops toward the left flank 
 of the position, and drew rein just behind our uhlans, who 
 were in the front rank. At the right stood our infantry, in a 
 solid mass : they were the reserves : higher up on the slope 
 could be seen in the clear, clear atmosphere, our cannon shin- 
 ing in the slanting rays of the bright morning sun, on the very 
 horizon. 
 
 Forward, beyond a ravine, were heard our infantry, already 
 involved in the action, and merrily exchanging shots with the 
 enemy. 
 
 Kostofs heart beat high with joy, as he heard these sounds 
 which he had not heard for many a long day, and now seemed 
 like the notes of the j oiliest music. Trap-ta-ta-tap, several 
 shots cracked, sometimes together, suddenly, then rapidly, 
 one after another. 
 
 The hussars stood for about an hour in one place. The can- 
 nonade had also begun. Count Ostermann and his suite came 
 riding up behind the squadron, and, drawing rein, had a short 
 conversation with the commander of the regiment, and then 
 rode off toward the cannon at the height.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 65 
 
 As soon as Ostermann rode away, the uhlans heard the com- 
 mand : " V kolonnu, k atdkye stro'isya ! " (In column : ready to 
 charge ! ) 
 
 The infantry in front of them parted their ranks to let the 
 cavalry through. The uhlans started away, the pennons on 
 their lances waving gayly, and down the slope they dashed at 
 a trot, toward the French cavalry, which began to appear at 
 the foot of the slope at the left. 
 
 As soon as the uhlans started down the slope, the hussars 
 were ordered to move forward and protect the battery on the 
 height. While the hussars were stationed in the position 
 before occupied by the uhlans, bullets flew high over their 
 heads, buzzing and humming through the air. 
 
 These sounds, which had not been heard by Rostof for long 
 years, had a more pleasing and stimulating influence than 
 the roar of musketry before. Straightening himself up in the 
 saddle, he scrutinized the battle-field spread full before his 
 eyes from the height where he was stationed, and his wLole 
 heart followed the uhlans into the charge. 
 
 They had now flown almost down to the French dragoons ; 
 there was a scene of confusion and collision in the smoke, a,nd, 
 at the end of five minutes, the uhlans were being pressed 
 back ; not in the same place, indeed, but farther to the left. 
 Mixed in with the orange-uniformed uhlans, on their chestnut 
 horses, and behind them, in a compact mass, could be seen the 
 blue French dragoons, 011 their gray horses. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 ROSTOF, with his keen huntsman's eye, was one of the first 
 to notice these French dragoons in blue pressing back our 
 uhlans. Nearer, nearer, in disorderly masses, came the uhlans, 
 and the French dragoons in pursuit of them. 
 
 It was plain to all how these men. dwarfed by the distance, 
 were jostling each other, driving each other, and brandishing 
 their arms and their sabres, at the foot of the hill. 
 
 Rostof looked on at the fight, as though he were present at 
 some mighty tournament. His instinct told him that if the 
 hussars could now add their impetus to that of the uhlans, the 
 French dragoons could not stand it ; but if the blow was to be 
 struck, it was to be done immediately, on the instant, else it 
 would be too late. He glanced around : a captain stationed 
 VOL. 3. 5.
 
 66 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 near him had likewise his eyes fixed steadfastly on the cavalry 
 contest below. 
 
 " Andrei Sevastyanuitch ! " said Eostof . " We might crush 
 them down." 
 
 " 'Twould be a dashing piece of work, but still " 
 
 Eostof, not waiting to hear him through, gave spurs to his 
 horse, dashed along in front of his squadron, and before' he 
 had even given the word for the advance, the whole squadron 
 to a man, experiencing exactly what he had, scoured after him. 
 
 Eostof himself did not know how and why he did this thing. 
 The whole action was as instinctive, as unpremeditated, as 
 though he were out hunting. He saw that the dragoons 
 were near at hand, that they were galloping forward, in dis- 
 orderly ranks. He knew that they would not withstand a 
 sudden attack ; he knew that it was the matter of a single 
 moment, which would not return if he let it have the go-by. 
 The bullets whizzed and whistled around him so stimulatingly, 
 his horse dashed on ahead so hotly, that he could not but 
 yield. He plunged the spurs still deeper in his horse's side, 
 shouted his command, and, at that same instant, hearing behind 
 him the hoof-clatter of his squadron, breaking into the charge, 
 at full trot, he gave his horse his head down the hill, at the 
 dragoons. No sooner had they reached the bottom of the 
 slope, than their gait changed involuntarily from trot to gal- 
 lop, growing ever swifter and swifter in proportion as they 
 approached the uhlans and the French dragoons who were 
 driving them back. 
 
 The dragoons were close to them. The foremost, seeing the 
 hussars, started to turn ; those in the rear paused. Feel- 
 ing as though he were galloping to cut off an escaping wolf, 
 Eostof, urging his Don pony to his utmost, dashed on toward 
 the disconcerted French dragoons. One of the uhlans reined 
 in his horse ; one, who had been dismounted, threw himself 
 on the ground to escape being crushed; a riderless steed 
 . dashed in among the hussars. Almost all the French dragoons 
 were now in full retreat. 
 
 Eostof, selecting one of them, mounted on a gray steed, 
 started in pursuit of him. On the way, he found himself 
 rushing at a bush ; his good steed, without hesitating, took it 
 at a leap ; and, almost before Eostof had settled himself in his 
 saddle again, he saw that he should' within a few seconds 
 have overtaken the man whom he had selected as his objective 
 point. This Frenchman, evidently an officer by his uniform, 
 bending forward, was urging on his gray horse, striking him
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 67 
 
 with his sabre. A second later, Rostof's horjt3 hit the other's 
 rear with his chest, almost knocking him over ; and, at the 
 same instant, Rostof, not knowing why, raised his sabre and 
 struck at the Frenchman. 
 
 The instant he did so, all Rostof s e?^er excitement sud- 
 denly vanished. The officer fell, not so ranch from the effect 
 of the sabre-stroke, which had only Buratched him slightly 
 above the elbow, as it was from the collision of the horses, and 
 from panic. Rostof pulled up to look for his enemy, and see 
 whom he had vanquished. The French officer of dragoons was 
 hopping along, with one foot on the ground and the other en- 
 tangled in the stirrup. With his eyes squinting with fear, as 
 though he expected each instant to be struck down again, he was 
 looking up at Rostof, with an expression of horror. His pale 
 face, covered with mud, fair and young, with dimpled chin and 
 bright blue eyes, was one not made for the battle-field, not the 
 face of an enemy, but a simple home face. 
 
 Even before Rostof had made up his mind what to do with 
 him, the officer cried : " Je me rends." In spite of all his 
 efforts, he could not extricate his foot from the stirrup ; and 
 still, with frightened eyes, he kept gazing at Rostof. Some 
 of the hussars, who had come galloping up, freed his foot for 
 him, and helped him to mount. The hussars were coming 
 back in all directions with dragoons as prisoners : one was 
 wounded ; but, with his face all covered with blood, would not 
 surrender his horse ; another was seated on the crupper of a 
 hussar's horse, with his arm around the man's waist ; a third, 
 assisted by a hussar, was clambering upon the horse's back. 
 
 In front the French infantry were in full retreat, firing as 
 they went. 
 
 The hussars swiftly returned to their position with their 
 prisoners. Rostof spurred back with the rest, a prey to a 
 peculiarly disagreeable feeling which oppressed his heart. A 
 certain vague perplexity, which he found it utterly impossible 
 to account for, overcame him at the capture of that young offi-" 
 cer, and the blow which he had given him. 
 
 Count Ostermann-Tolstoi met the hussars on their return, 
 summoned Rostof, and thanked him, saying that he should 
 report to the sovereign his gallant exploit, and recommend 
 him for the cross of the George. When the summons to Count 
 Ostermami came, Rostof remembered that the charge had been 
 made without orders ; and he was therefore fully persuaded 
 that the commander called for him to punish him for his pre- 
 sumptuous action. Consequently, Ostermann's flattering words,
 
 68 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 and his promise of a reward, ought to have been all the more 
 agreeable to Rostof ; but that same vague, disagreeable feeling 
 still tortured his mind. 
 
 " What can it be that troubles me so, I wonder ? " he asked 
 himself, as he rode away from the interview. " Ilyin ? No, 
 he is safe and sound. " Have I anything to be ashamed 
 of ? No, nothing of the sort at all." It was an entirely dif- 
 ferent feeling, like remorse. " Yes, yes, that French officer 
 with the dimple. And how distinctly I remember hesitating 
 before I struck him." 
 
 ' Rostof saw the prisoners about to be conducted away, and 
 he galloped up to them, in order to have another look at the 
 officer with the dimpled chin. He was sitting, in his foreign 
 uniform, on a hussar's stallion, and was glancing around un- 
 easily. The wound. on his arm was scarcely deserving of the 
 name. He gave Rostof a hypocritical smile, and waved his 
 hand at him, as a sort of salute. Rostof had still the same 
 feeling of awkwardness, and something seemed to weigh on 
 his conscience. 
 
 All that day, and the day following, Rostof fl friends and 
 comrades noticed that he was not exactly gloomy or surly, 
 but taciturn, thoughtful, and concentrated. He drank, as it 
 were, under protest, tried to be alone, and evidently had some- 
 thing on his mind. 
 
 Rostof was, all the time, thinking about his brilliant exploit, 
 which, much to his amazement, had given him the cross of the 
 George, and had even given him the reputation of being a 
 hero ; und he found it utterly incomprehensible. 
 
 " And so they are still more afraid of us than we are of 
 them ! " he said to himself. " Is this all there is of what is 
 called heroism ? Did I do that for my country's sake ? And 
 wherein was he to blame, with his dimple and his blue eyes ? 
 And how frightened he was ! He thought I was going to kill 
 him ! My hand trembled ; but still they have given me the 
 Georgievsky cross. I don't understand it at all, not at all ! ' 
 
 But while Nikolai was working over these questions in his 
 own mind, and still failed to find any adequate solution of 
 what was so confusing to him. the wheel of fortune, as so 
 often happens in the military service, had been given a turn 
 in his favor. He was promoted after the engagement at 
 Ostrovno, and given command of a battalion ; and when 
 there was any necessity of employing a brave officer, he was 
 given the chance.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 69 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 ON learning of Natasha's illness, the countess, still very fai 
 herself from well, and suffering from weakness, went to Mos- 
 cow, taking Petya and the whole household ; and all the Ros- 
 tofs left Marya Dmitrievna's, and went to their own house, 
 and settled down in the city for good. 
 
 Natasha's illness was so serious that, fortunately for her 
 happiness, and for the happiness of her relations, the thought 
 of all that had been the cause of her illness, her misconduct, 
 and the breach with her betrothed, were relegated to the back- 
 ground. She was so ill that it was impossible to take up the 
 consideration of how far she had been blameworthy in the 
 matter ; for she had no appetite, and she could not sleep, she 
 lost flesh, and had a cough, and was, as the doctors gave 
 them to understand, in a decidedly critical state. 
 
 There was nothing else to be thought of than to give her all 
 the aid they could devise : the doctors came to see her, both 
 singly and in consultation ; talked abundantly in French, in 
 German, and Latin ; criticised one another ; prescribed the 
 most varied remedies adapted to cure all the diseases 
 known to their science ; but it did not occur to one of 
 them, simple as it might seem, that the disease from which 
 Natasha was suffering might be unknown to them, just 
 as every ailment which attacks mortal man is beyond their 
 power of understanding : since each mortal man has his own 
 distinguishing characteristics, and whatever disease he has 
 must, necessarily, be peculiar and new, and unknown to medi- 
 cine ; not a disease of the lungs, of the liver, of the skin, of 
 the heart, of the nerves, and so on, as described in works on 
 medicine, but an ailment produced from any one of endless 
 complications connected with diseases of these organs. 
 
 This simple idea could not occur to the doctors (any more 
 than it could ever occur to a warlock that his incantations were 
 idle) ; because it is their life work to practise medicine, because 
 it is their way of earning money ; and because they spend the 
 best years of their lives at this business. 
 
 But the chief reason why 'this thought could not occur to 
 the doctors was because they saw that they were unquestiona- 
 bly of service ; and, in deed and truth, they were of service to 
 all the Rostof household. They were of service not because 
 they made the sick girl swallow drugs, for the most part harm-
 
 70 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 ful though the harmf ulness was of little moment, because 
 the noxious drugs were given in small quantities, but they 
 were of service, they were needful, they were indispensable 
 and this is the reason that there are, and always will be, 
 alleged " curers " quacks, homo3opaths and allopaths 
 because they satisfied the moral demands of the sick girl, and 
 those who loved her. They satisfied that eternal human 
 demand for hope and consolation ; that demand for sym- 
 pathy and activity which a man experiences at a time of 
 suffering. 
 
 They satisfied that eternal human demand noticeable in a 
 child in its simplest and most primitive form to have the 
 bruised place rubbed. The child tumbles down, and immedi- 
 ately runs to its mother or its nurse to be kissed, and have the 
 sore place rubbed, and its pains are alleviated as soon as the 
 sore place is rubbed or kissed. The child cannot help believ- 
 ing that those who are stronger and wiser than he must have 
 the means of giving him aid for his sufferings. And this hope 
 of alleviation and expression of sympathy at the time when 
 the mother rubs the bump are a comfort. 
 
 The doctors in Natasha's case were of service, because they 
 kissed and rubbed the bobo, assuring her that it would go away 
 if the coachman would only hurry down to the Arbatskaya 
 apothecary shop and get a ruble and seventy kopeks' worth of 
 powders and pellets in a neat little box, and if the sick girl 
 would take these powders, dissolved in boiling water, regularly 
 every two hours, not a moment more or a moment less. 
 
 What would Sonya and the count and the countess have 
 done if they had merely looked on without taking any part ; 
 if there had been no little pellets every two hours, no tepid 
 drinks, no chicken cutlets to prepare, and none of all those 
 little necessary things prescribed by the doctor, the observance 
 of which gave occupation and consolation to the friends ? 
 
 How would the count have borne his beloved daughter's 
 illness if he had not known that it was going to cost him 
 some thousands of rubles, and that he would not grudge 
 thousands more to do her any good ; if he had not known 
 that in case she did not recover speedily, he should not 
 grudge still other thousands in taking her abroad, and then 
 going to the expense of consultations ; if he had not been 
 able to tell in all its details how Mctivier and Teller had not 
 understood the case, while Friese had and Mudrof had still 
 more successfully predicated the disease ? 
 
 What would the countess have done if she could not have
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 71 
 
 occasionally scolded Natasha because she did not fully con- 
 form to the doctor's orders ? 
 
 " You will never get well," she would say, " if you don't 
 obey the doctor, and if you don't take your medicine regularly. 
 You must not treat it lightly, because, if you do, it may go 
 into pneumonia," the countess would say ; and she found a 
 great consolation in repeating this one word, which was some- 
 thing incomprehensible for her and others beside. 
 
 What would Sonya have done if she had not had the joy- 
 ful consciousness that, during the first part of the time, she 
 had not undressed for three nights, so that she might be 
 ready to carry out to the least detail all the doctor's prescrip- 
 tions ; and that even now she lay awake all night, lest she 
 should sleep over the hours when it was necessary to adminis- 
 ter the not very hurtful pellets from the little gUt box ? 
 
 Even Natasha herself, who, although she declared that no 
 medicine could cure her, and that this w.as all nonsense, could 
 not help a feeling of gratification that they were making so 
 many sacrifices for her, and so willingly consented to take the 
 medicine at the hours prescribed. And likewise she felt glad 
 to show by her neglect to carry out the doctor's orders that 
 she did not believe in medicine, and did not value her life. 
 
 The doctor came every day, felt of her pulse, looked at her 
 tongue, and, paying no attention to her dejected face, laughed 
 and joked with her. But then, when he had gone into the 
 next room, and the countess hastily followed him, he would 
 pull a serious face and shake his head dubiously, saying that, 
 though the patient was in a critical state, still he had good 
 hopes for the efficacy of the medicine he had just prescribed, 
 and that they must wait and see ; that the ailment was more 
 mental but 
 
 The countess, who tried as far as possible to shut her own 
 eyes, and the doctor's, to Natasha's behavior, thrust the gold 
 piece into his hand, and each time, with a relieved heart, went 
 back to her little invalid. 
 
 The symptoms of Natasha's illness were loss of appetite, sleep- 
 lessness, a cough, and a constant state of apathy. The doctors 
 declared that it was impossible for her to dispense with medi- 
 cal treatment, and, consequently, she was kept a prisoner in 
 the sultry air of the city. And, during the summer of 1812, 
 the Eostofs did not go to their country place. 
 
 In spite of the immense quantity of pellets, drops, and pow- 
 ders swallowed by Natasha, out of glass jars and gilt boxes, of 
 which Madame Schoss, who was a great lover of such things.
 
 72 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 had made a large collection, in spite of being deprived of her 
 customary life in the country, youth at last got the upper 
 hand : Natasha's sorrow began to disappear under the impres- 
 sions of every-day life ; it ceased to lie so painfully on her 
 heart, it began to appear past and distant, and Natasha's phy- 
 sical health showed signs of improvement. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 NATASHA was more calm, but not more cheerful. She not 
 only avoided all the external scenes of gayety, balls, driv- 
 ing, concerts, the theatre ; but, even when she laughed, it 
 seemed as though the tears were audible back of her laughter. 
 She could not sing. As soon as she started to laugh, or 
 essayed, when all alone by herself, to sing, the tears choked 
 her : tears of repentance, tears of remembrance, of regret, of 
 the irrevocable, happy days ; tears of vexation that she had 
 thus idly wasted her young life, which might have been so 
 happy. Laughter and song seemed to her like sacrilege 
 toward her sorrow. 
 
 She never once thought of coquetry ; and that she kept 
 from such a thing was not by any conscious effort of the will. 
 She declared, and she felt, that, at this time, all men were for 
 her no more than the buffoon Nastasya Ivanovna. An inward 
 monitor strenuously interdicted every pleasure. Moreover, 
 she showed no interest, as of old, in that girlish round of ex- 
 istence, so free of care and full of hope. , She recalled more 
 frequently, and with keener pain than aught else, those 
 autumn months with the hunting, and the " little uncle," 
 and the holidays with Nikolai at Otradnoye. What would she 
 not have given for the return of even a single day of that van- 
 ished time ! But it was past forever ! She had not been mis- 
 taken in that presentiment that she had felt at that time that 
 that condition of careless freedom and susceptibility to every 
 pleasant influence would never more return. But to live was 
 a necessity. 
 
 It was a consolation for her to think not that she was 
 better, as she had formerly thought, but that she was worse, 
 vastly worse, than anybody else in the world. But this was a 
 little thing. She knew it, and asked herself: "What more 
 is there ? " But there was nothing more in store for her. 
 There was no further joy in life ; and yet life went on. Na- 
 tasha's sole idea evidently was not to be a burden to any one,
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 73 
 
 and not to interfere with any one, while, for her own personal 
 gratification, she asked for nothing at all. She kept aloof 
 from the other members of the household, and only with her 
 brother Petya did she feel at all at ease. She liked to be with 
 him more than with the others, and sometimes, when they 
 were alone together, she would laugh. She scarcely ever went 
 out of the house, and of those who came to call, there was only 
 one man whom she was glad to see, and that was Pierre. 
 
 It could not have been possible for any one to have shown 
 more tenderness and discretion, and, at the same time, more 
 seriousness, in his treatment of her, than did Count Bezukhoi. 
 Natasha unconsciously fell under the spell of this affectionate 
 tenderness, and, accordingly, she took great delight in his 
 society. But she was not even thankful to him for the way 
 in which he treated her. Nothing that Pierre did of good 
 seemed to her other than spontaneous. It seemed to her that 
 it was so perfectly natural for Pierre to be kind to every one, 
 that he deserved no credit for his acts of kindness to her. 
 Sometimes Natasha noticed his confusion and awkwardness in 
 her presence, especially when he was desirous of doing her 
 some favor, or when he was apprehensive lest something in 
 their talk might suggest disagreeable recollections. She 
 noticed this, and ascribed it to his natural kindness and shy- 
 ness, which, in her opinion, so' far as she knew, must be shown 
 to all, just as it was to her. 
 
 Since those ambiguous words, " if he were free, he should, 
 on his knees, sue for her heart and her hand," spoken at a 
 moment of such painful excitement on her part, Pierre had 
 never made any allusion whatever to his feelings for Natasha ; 
 and, as far as she was concerned, it was evident that those 
 words, so consoling to her at the time, had had no more mean- 
 ing to her than most thoughtless, unconsidered words, spoken 
 for the consolation of a heart-broken child. It never entered 
 her head that her relations with Pierre might lead to love on 
 either side much less on his or even to that form of ten- 
 der, self-acknowledged, poetic friendship between a man and a 
 woman, of which she had known several examples ; and this, 
 not because Pierre was a married man, but because Natasha 
 was conscious that between him and her, in all its reality, 
 existed that barrier of moral obstacles, the absence of which 
 she had been conscious of in Kuragin. 
 
 Toward the end of the mid-summer's fast * of Saint Peter, 
 Agrafena Ivanovna Bielova, one of the Rostofs' neighbors at 
 * Saint Peter's day is June 29, O, S., July 11, N, S,
 
 74 WAR AND PEACE'. 
 
 Otradnoye, came to Moscow to worship at the shrines of the 
 saints there. She proposed to Natasha to join in her devo- 
 tions, and Natasha gladly entertained the suggestion. Not- 
 withstanding the doctor's prohibition of her going out early in 
 the morning, Natasha insisted on preparing for the sacrament, 
 and doing so not as it was usually managed at the Kostofs', 
 by listening to three services in the house, but rather to prepare 
 for it as Agrafena Ivanovna did, that is, taking the whole week, 
 without missing a single vespers, mass, or matins. 
 
 The countess was pleased with this zeal of Natasha's. _ After 
 all the failure of the physicians' remedies, she hoped in the 
 depths of her heart that prayer might prove to be a more pow- 
 erful medicament ; and though she did it with some apprehen- 
 sion, and concealed it from the knowledge of the doctors, 
 she yielded to Natasha's desire, and let her go with Bielova. 
 
 Agrafena Ivanovna came at three o'clock in the morning to 
 arouse Natasha ; and yet generally she found her already wide 
 awake. Natasha was afraid of sleeping over the hour of matins. 
 Making hasty ablutions, and humbly dressing in her shabbiest 
 gown and an old mantle, shivering with the chill of morning, 
 Natasha would venture out into the empty streets, dimly 
 lighted by the diaphanous light of early dawn. 
 
 In accordance with the pious Agrafena Ivanovna's advice, 
 Natasha performed her devotions not in her own parish, but 
 at a church where, according to her, there was a priest of very 
 blameless and austere life. At this church there were always 
 very few people. Natasha would take her usual place with 
 Bielova before the ikon of the Mother of God, enshrined at 
 the back of the choir, at the left ; and a new feeling of calm- 
 ness came over her before the vast and incomprehensible mys- 
 tery, when, at that unprecedentedly early hour of the morning, 
 she gazed at the darkened face of the Virgin's picture, lighted 
 by the tapers burning before it, as well as by the morning 
 light that came in through the windows, as she listened to 
 the sounds of the service, which she tried to follow under- 
 standingly. 
 
 When she understood it, her personal feeling entered into 
 and tinged the meaning of the prayer ; but when she could not 
 understand it, it was all the more delicious for her to think 
 that the very desire to comprehend everything was in itself a 
 form of pride, that it is impossible to comprehend, and that 
 all that is requisite and necessary is to have faith and trust in 
 God, who at that moment, she was conscious, reigned in her 
 heart She would cross herself and bow low ; and when the
 
 WAR AND PEACE. ft 
 
 service was too deep for her comprehension, then only, horror- 
 stricken at her own baseness, she would beseech God to par- 
 don her for everything, for everything, and have mercy upon 
 her. 
 
 The prayers which she followed with the most fervor were 
 those expressing remorse. Returning home in the early hours 
 of the morning, when the only men she met were masons going 
 ;o their work, and dvorniks sweeping the streets, and every- 
 body in all the houses was still asleep, Natasha experienced 
 a new sense of the possibility of being purged of her sins, and 
 the possibility of a new, pure life and happiness. 
 
 During all that week, while she was leading this new life, 
 ;his feeling grew stronger every day. And the happy thought 
 of taking the communion or, as Agraf ena, playing on the word, 
 called it, the communication * seemed to her so majestic that 
 it seemed to her she should never live till that blessed Sunday. 
 
 But the happy day came, and when Natasha, on this memo- 
 rable Sunday, returned home in her white muslin dress, from 
 communion, she, for the first time after many months, felt 
 tranquil and not burdened by the thought of living. 
 
 When the doctor came that day to see Natasha, he ordered 
 ler to continue taking the last prescription of powders which 
 had begun a fortnight before. 
 
 "Don't fail to take them morning and evening," said he, 
 evidently feeling honestly satisfied and even elated at the 
 success of his treatment. " Only be more regular, please. Rest 
 quite easy, countess," said the doctor, in a jovial tone, skil- 
 fully clutching the gold piece in his plump hands. " She will 
 soon be singing and enjoying herself. The last medicine has 
 3een very, very efficacious. She has already begun to gain." 
 
 The countess looked at her finger-nails, and spat t as she 
 returned to the drawing-room with a radiant face. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 DURING the first weeks of July, more and more disquieting 
 rumors about the progress of the war began to be circulated 
 in Moscow : much was said about the sovereign's appeal to his 
 people, and about the sovereign's leaving the army and coming 
 to Moscow. And as the manifesto and summons were not 
 received in Moscow until the twenty-third of July, exaggerated 
 reports about them and about the position of Russia were 
 * Sodbshchitsa, instead of pritibshchitsa. t For the omen's sake.
 
 76 
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 current. It was said that the sovereign was coming because 
 the army was in a critical position ; it was said that Smolensk 
 had surrendered, that Napoleon had a million men, and that 
 only a miracle could save Russia. 
 
 The manifesto was received on the twenty-third ot July, on 
 a Saturday, but as yet it had not been published, and Pierre 
 who was at the Kostofs', promised to come to dinner the next 
 day, Sunday, and bring the manifesto and the proclamation, 
 which he would get of Count Rostopchin. 
 
 On that Sunday the Rostofs, as usual, went to mass at the 
 private chapel of the Razumovskys. It was a sultry July day. 
 Even at ten o'clock, when the Rostofs' carriage drew up in 
 front of the church, the heated atmosphere, the shouts of ped- 
 lers, the bright, light-colored, summer dresses of the ladies, the 
 dust-covered leaves of the trees along the boulevard, the sounds 
 of music, and the white trousers of a regiment marching by on 
 its way to parade, the rattle of carriages over the pavement, and 
 the dazzling radiance of the July sun, all spoke ot that sum- 
 mer lano-uor and content as well as discontent with the present 
 which is always felt with especial keenness on a bright, sultry 
 day in the city. . 
 
 The chapel of the Razmnovskya was a gathering-place tor 
 all the elite of Moscow, all the acquaintances of the Rostots 
 _ for that year very many of the wealthy families who usually 
 went off to their country estates had remained in town. 
 
 Preceded by a liveried lackey, who cleared a way through 
 the throng, Natasha, as she walked in with her mother, over- 
 heard a young man making a remark about her in a whisper, 
 that was too loud. 
 
 '< That is the Rostova the very one ! 
 How thin she has grown ! but still she is pretty. ^ 
 She heard or thought she heard the names of Kuragm and 
 Bolkonsky mentioned. This, however, was a common experi- 
 ence of hers. It always seemed to her that those who looked 
 at her immediately began to recall what had happened. 
 
 With pain and sinking at heart, as always was the case in a 
 throng Natasha walked on in her lilac silk dress trimmed 
 with black lace, and giving the appearance, as women can so 
 easily do, of being calm and dignified, for the very reason 
 that her heart was full of pain and shame. She knew that 
 she was pretty, and she was not mistaken ; but the knowledge 
 did not now give her the same pleasure as before. On the 
 contrary, it annoyed her above everything of late, and espe- 
 cially on that bright hot day in the city.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 77 
 
 " Still another Sunday, still another week gone," she said to 
 herself, as she remembered for what purpose she was there 
 that clay. " And fore\ er the same life that is not life, and 
 the same conditions in which it used to be so easy to live in 
 days gone by. I am pretty, I am young, and I know that now 
 I am good whereas before I was naughty ; but now I am good 
 I know it," she said to herself ; " but it's all for nothing that 
 the best, best years of my life have gone and are going." 
 
 She took her place with her mother, and exchanged greet- 
 ings with the acquaintances around her. Out of old habit she 
 noticed the toilets of the ladies ; she criticised the tenue of 
 one lady who happened to be standing near her, and the 
 indecorous mannei in which she hastily crossed herself; then 
 she thought with inward vexation that the others were prob- 
 ably criticising her just as she was criticising them, and then 
 suddenly, as she heard the sounds of the service, she was 
 horror-struck at her depravity ; she was horror-struck at the 
 thought that she had again sullied that purity with which she 
 had begun the service. 
 
 A lovely-looking, clean, and venerable priest officiated with 
 that honeyed unction which has such a majestic and sanctifying 
 influence upon the hearts of worshippers. The " Holy Gate " 
 was closed, the curtain was slowly drawn, a mysterious, sol- 
 emn voice murmured undistinguishable words. Natasha's 
 bosom heaved with tears too deep for comprehension, and she 
 was agitated by a feeling of joy and tormenting pain. 
 
 "Teach me what I must do, how to direct my life, how to do 
 right for ever and ever," she prayed in her heart. 
 
 The deacon came out to the ambon, used his thumb to pull 
 his long hair out from under his surplice, and, pressing his 
 cross to his heart, began to read in a loud and solemn voice the 
 words of the prayer. 
 
 " Let all the people pray unto the Lord ! " 
 
 " Let the community, all united, without distinctions of 
 rank, but joined together in brotherly love let us pray," 
 was Natasha's thought. 
 
 " For the heavenly peace and the salvation of our souls ! " 
 
 " For all the angels and the spirits of all incorporeal exist- 
 ences, which dwell above us," prayed Natasha. 
 
 During the prayer for the army, she remembered her 
 brother and Denisof. 
 
 During the prayer for those who were travelling on sea or 
 on land, she thought of Prince Andrei, and prayed for him, 
 and prayed that God would pardon the wrong that she had 
 done him.
 
 78 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 During the prayer for those who love us, she prayed for 
 those of her household : her father, her mother, Sonya, and 
 now, for the first time, she realized all the wrong that she 
 had done them, and felt how deep and strong was her love 
 toward them. 
 
 When the prayer for those who hate us was read, she tried 
 to think of her enemies, and those who hated her, in order to 
 pray for them. Among her enemies she reckoned her father's 
 creditors, and all those who had dealings with him, and every 
 time, at the thoughts of her enemies and those who hated her, 
 she remembered Anatol, who had done her such injury, and, 
 although he had not hated her, she prayed gladly for him as 
 for an enemy. 
 
 It was only during the prayer that she was able to think 
 calmly and clearly about Prince Andrei and about Anatol, as 
 about men toward whom her feelings had been entirely swal- 
 lowed up in her fear and worship of God. 
 
 When the prayer was read for the imperial family, and for 
 the Synod, she made a very low bow and crossed herself, with 
 the thought that if she could not understand, she at least could 
 not doubt, and consequently must love, the directing Synod, 
 and pray for it. 
 
 Having finished the liturgy,* the deacon crossed himself on 
 the front of his stole, and exclaimed : 
 
 " Let us give ourselves and our bodies to Christ our God," 
 
 " Let us give ourselves to God," repeated Natasha, in her 
 own heart. " My God, I give myself up to thy will," said she 
 to herself. " I have no wishes, I have no desires ! Teach me 
 what to do, how to fulfil thy will ! Yea, take me, take me ! " 
 cried Natasha, in her heart, with touching impatience, forget- 
 ting to cross herself, but letting her slender arms drop by her 
 side, and as though expecting that instantly some viewless 
 Power would take her and bear her up, and free her from her 
 sorrows, desires, short-comings, hopes, and faults. 
 
 The countess many times during the service glanced at her 
 daughter's pathetic face and glistening eyes, and besought 
 God to give her his aid. 
 
 Unexpectedly, in the middle of the service, and out of the 
 usual order of things, which Natasha knew so well, a diachok 
 brought out the wooden stool 011 which the priest kneels when 
 he reads the prayers on Trinity Sunday, and placed it in front 
 of the "Holy Gates." 
 
 The priest made his appearance in his lilac velvet calotte, 
 * The ycktenii/d, or liturgical prayer for the Imperial family.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 79 
 
 rubbed his hand over his hair, and with some effort got upon 
 his knees. 
 
 All followed his example, looking with perplexity at each 
 other. This was the prayer which had only just been received 
 from the Synod, the prayer for the salvation of Russia from 
 the invasion of her enemies. 
 
 " Lord God our strength ! God our salvation ! " began the 
 priest, in that clear, undemonstrative, sweet voice, which is 
 characteristic of the reading of no other clergy except the 
 Slavonic, and which has such an irresistible effect upon the 
 Russian heart. 
 
 "Lord God our Strength ! God our salvation ! Protect in thy Infinite 
 mercy and bounty thy humble people, and charitably hear us and spare 
 us and have mercy upon us. The enemy are bringing destruction upon 
 thy land, and would fain make the universe a wilderness. Rise thou up 
 against him. This lawless multitude have gathered themselves together 
 to destroy thy inheritance, to lay waste thy holy Jerusalem, thy beloved 
 Russia: to desecrate thy temples, to overturn thy altars, and toprofane 
 our sanctuary. How long, oh, Lord, how long shall sinners triumph? 
 How long shall they be permitted to transgress thy laws ? 
 
 "Sovereign Lord! hear thou us that cry unto thee ! By thy might 
 strengthen thou our most devout autocrat and ruler, our great sovereign 
 the Emperor Alexander Pavlovitch! remember his equity and meekness! 
 Requite him for his virtues, and let them be the safeguard of us, thy 
 beloved Israel. Bless his counsels, !tis 'undertakings, and his deeds. 
 Establish by thy almighty right hand his realm, and grant him victory over 
 his enemies, as thou didst to Moses over Amalek, Gideon over Midian, 
 and David over Goliath. Protect thou his armies. Uphold with the 
 brazen bow the arms of those who have gone forth to battle in thy name, 
 and gird them with strength for the ivar. Take thy sword and thy buck- 
 ler, and arise and help us, and put to sltame and confusion those who 
 have plotted evil against us, so that they mayfly before the faces of those 
 who trust in thee as chaff is driven before the wind, and give thy angels 
 power to confound them and pursue them. May the net come upon them 
 without their knowing it, and may the draught of fish which they meant 
 to take surround them on all sides, and may they fall under the feet of 
 thy slaves, and may they be trampled under the feet of our warriors. 
 Oh, Lord! thou art able to save in great things and in small. Thou 
 art God, and no man can do aught against thee. 
 
 " God of our fathers ! Let thy bounty and thy mercy guard us as from 
 everlasting to everlasting. Hide not thy face from us ; let not thy wrath 
 be kindled against our iniquities ; but in the magnitude of thy merci/ and 
 the abundance of thy grace pardon our lawlessness and our sin. Create 
 a clean heart within us, and renew a right spirit in our inner parts ; 
 strengthen 'thou our faith in thee ; inspire hope ; kindle true love among 
 us ; arm us with a single impulse to the righteous defence of the inher- 
 itance which thou hast given to us and to our fathers, and let not the 
 sceptre of the ungodly decide the destiny of those whom thou hast conse- 
 crated. 
 
 " Oh, Lord, our God, in tfiee do we put our trust, and our hopes are 
 set on thee. Let us not despair of thy mercy, and give a sign, in order
 
 go WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 that those <vho hate us and our orthodox faith may be confounded and 
 destroyed, and that all nations may see that thy name is the Lord, 
 and we are thy people. Shoio us thy mercy, oh, Lord, this day, 
 and vouchsafe to us thy salvation. Rejoice the heart of thy slaves by thy 
 (jrace ; strike our enemies, and crush them tinder the Jeet of those that 
 believe in thee. For thon art the defence, the succor, and the victory to 
 them that trust in thee, and to thee be the glory to the Father and to 
 the Son and to the Holt/ Spirit, as it was in the beginning, is now, and ever 
 shall be, world without end. Amen.-' 
 
 In that condition of rapt excitement to which Natasha had 
 attained, this prayer * had a very powerful effect upon her. 
 She listened to every word about " the victory of Moses over 
 Amalek, of Gideon over Midian, and David over Goliath, and 
 the laying waste of thy Jerusalem," and she prayed to God 
 with that tenderness of spirit and melting of the heart which 
 she now felt. But she was somewhat confused in her mind as 
 to what she should pray God for. With all her heart she 
 could join in the petition for a right spirit, for fortifying the 
 zeal with faith and hope, and stimulating their love. 
 
 But she could not pray that the enemy might be crushed 
 under their feet, because only a few moments before her only 
 regret was that she had no more of them, so that she might 
 pray for them. 
 
 But at the same time she could not doubt the rightfulness 
 of the prayer which the kneeling priest had read. She felt in 
 her heart a genuine and anxious terror at the thought of the 
 punishment which must befall men on account of their sins, 
 and especially for her own sins, and she besought God to forgive 
 them all, and her as well, and to give them all and her tran- 
 quillity and happiness in life. 
 
 And it seemed to her that God heard her prayer. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 FROM the day when Pierre, as he left the Rostofs' with 
 Natasha's grateful looks still fresh in his mind, and looked at 
 the comet stretched across the sky, and felt that he had made 
 a new discovery, the eternally tormenting question as to the 
 vanity and folly of all things'' earthly had ceased to occupy his 
 thoughts. This terrible question, Why? Wherefore? which 
 before had come up before him amid every occupation, had 
 
 * The effect of this prayer is enhanced in the original by the dignified 
 Slavonic, the church language, in which it is couched.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 81 
 
 now merged itself for him not into another problem, and not 
 into any answer to his question, but into her image. 
 
 Whether he listened or took the lead himself in trivial 
 conversations, whether he read or heard about the baseness 
 and absurdity of men, he no longer felt that sense of horror 
 as before ; he did not ask himself what caused them to strug- 
 gle so, when life was so short and incomprehensible, but he 
 recalled how she looked when he saw her the last time, and all 
 his doubts vanished, not because she had given the answer to 
 his questions, but because her image instantly lifted him into 
 another world, serene and full of spiritual activity, where 
 there could be no question of right or wrong, the world of 
 beauty and love which alone accounts for life. Whatever 
 baseness in life might be brought to his attention, he would 
 say to himself : 
 
 " Well, then, let N. N. plunder the government and the 
 Tsar, and let the government and the Tsar load him with 
 honors ; but she smiled on me last evening, and asked me 
 to come again, and I love her, and no one shall ever know it ! " 
 
 And his soul became calm and clear. 
 
 Pierre continued as before to go into gay society, and drank 
 heavily, and led the same idle and dissipated life, for the 
 reason that at such times as he was not able to spend at the 
 liostofs', there were still many hours every day that he had to 
 spend in some manner, and his habits and acquaintances at 
 Moscow invariably allured him to this mode of existence, which 
 had such a firm hold upon him. 
 
 But of late, now that the news from the theatre of the war 
 became constantly more and more disquieting, and now that 
 Natasha's health had fairly begun to improve, and she ceased 
 to arouse in him that former feeling of anxiety and pity, 
 he began to become the prey of a restlessness that was wholly 
 incomprehensible, and grew more and more so. He was con- 
 scious that the position in which he found himself could not 
 last very long, that some catastrophe was at hand, which was 
 destined to change his whole life, and he impatiently sought 
 to find in everything the presages of this imminent catas- 
 trophe. 
 
 One of the brotherhood of Freemasons had called his atten- 
 tion to the following prophecy concerning Napoleon, which 
 was derived from the revelation of Saint John. In the 
 eighteenth verse of the thirteenth chapter of the Apocalypse 
 it is written, " Here is ivisdom. He that hath understanding, 
 let him count the number of the beast ; for it is the number of a 
 VOL. 3. 6.
 
 g2 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 man : and his number is six hundred and sixty and six." And 
 the fifth verse of the same chapter says, " And there was given 
 unto him a mouth speaking great things and blasphemies. And 
 there was given unto him authority to do his works during forty 
 and two months" 
 
 The letters of the French alphabet when disposed in ac- 
 cordance with the Hebrew enumeration, which gives the first 
 nine letters the value of units, and the rest that of tens, have 
 the following significance : 
 
 abcdefsliiklmnopqrst uv w x yz 
 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 20 30 40 50 60 70 80 90 100 110 120 130 140 150 160 
 
 If the words VEmpereur Napoleon are written letter for 
 letter with this cipher, the result is that the sum of 
 these letters amounts to six hundred and sixty-six, and that 
 therefore Napoleon is the beast described in the Apocalypse. 
 Moreover, if you apply to this same alphabetic cipher the 
 words Quarante deux, that is the time, forty-two months, 
 during which authority was given to the beast to speak great 
 things and blaspheme, the sum of these letters according to 
 the same scheme will amount to six hundred and sixtj^-six, 
 whence it results that Napoleon's power was to be allowed to 
 last until the year 1812, when he would have reached the age 
 of forty-two. 
 
 Pierre was greatly amazed by this method of divination, 
 and he frequently asked himself what could possibly put an 
 end to the power of the beast, that is to say, Napoleon ; and 
 he made use of the same cipher and mode of reckoning, in 
 order to find an answer to the question that he had propounded. 
 Thus he wrote, as an experiment, VEmpereur Alexandre, and 
 La nation russe, but the sum of the letters came out either 
 greater or less than six hundred and sixty-six. 
 
 One time, while occupying himself with this enumeration, he 
 wrote his own name, Comte Pierre Besouhoff ; * the sum of 
 the figures did not agree. Then changing the spelling, substi- 
 tuting z for 8, he added the particule " de," he added the arti- 
 cle " le," and still he failed to attain the desired result. 
 
 Then it occurred to him that if the answer desired for the 
 
 * In the course of " War and Peace," Pierre's family name appears under 
 at least three different forms of spelling: Bezukhoi, which the translator 
 has retained throughout, Bezukhi, and Bezukhof; the Russian character A- A 
 corresponds to ch in German, and is often represented in French by h. It 
 may be here remarked also a propos of the " particule " dc that the French 
 and German way of representing titled Russians' names with a de or a von is 
 incorrect ; the Russian nobility is dependent upon neither titles nor particles.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 83 
 
 question was included in his name, it would certainly have 
 also to include his nationality. He wrote Le Russe Besuhof, 
 and, reckoning up the figures, he made six hundred and sev- 
 enty-one. Only five too much J Five corresponds to e, the 
 very same e which was elided in the article before the word 
 "Empereur." Eliding this e, though it was contrary to the 
 rule, Pierre found the wished-for answer, VRusse Besuhof, 
 equal to six hundred and sixty-six. 
 
 This discovery excited him. How, by what bond, he was 
 united to this mighty event foreshadowed in the Apocalypse 
 he knew not ; but not for an instant did he have any doubt of 
 the bond. His love for Natasha, the Antichrist, Napoleon's 
 invasion, the comet, six hundred and sixty-six, V Empereur 
 Napoleon, and V Russe Besuhof all taken together, could not 
 fail to ripen and burst and bring him forth from that en- 
 chanted, do-nothing world of Moscovite habits, in which he 
 felt himself a prisoner, and carry him to some mighty exploit 
 and some mighty happiness. 
 
 Pierre, on the evening before the Sunday when the prayer 
 was read, had promised the Kostofs to bring them from Count 
 Rostopchin, whose very -good friend he was, the proclamation 
 to the Russians and the last news from the army. That morn- 
 ing, on his arrival at Count Rostopchin's, Pierre found a 
 courier, who had just come from the army. This courier was 
 an acquaintance of Pierre's, a regular habitue of the Moscow 
 ballrooms. 
 
 " For God's sake, couldn't you help me out ? " asked the 
 courier. "I have a whole bagful of letters for friends and 
 relatives." 
 
 Among these letters was one from Nikolai Rostof to his 
 father. Pierre took charge of it. Besides this, Count Rostop- 
 chin gave Pierre a copy of the sovereign's appeal to Moscow, 
 which had just come from the press, the last orders to the 
 army, and his own " placard." Glancing over the army 
 orders, Pierre found in one of them, which mentioned the 
 names of the killed, wounded, or rewarded, that Nikolai Ros- 
 tof had been decorated with a " George " of the fourth class 
 on account of his gallantry in the affair at Ostrovno ; and in 
 the same " general order," the nomination of Prince Andrei 
 Bolkonsky as commander of a regiment of Jagers. Although 
 h<> had no wish to remind the Rostofs of Bolkonsky, still 
 he could not restrain the desire to rejoice their hearts by the 
 news of the reward granted their son, and so, keeping in his
 
 84 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 own possession the proclamation, the "placard," and the 
 other orders, with which to entertain them during dinner, he 
 immediately sent them the printed order and Nikolai's letter. 
 
 His conversation with Count Rostopchin, whose tone of 
 anxiety and nervousness struck him, his meeting with the 
 courier, who had some careless story to tell of things going ill 
 in the army, the rumors of spies found in Moscow, and of a 
 paper circulating in the city which declared that Napoleon by 
 autumn had promised to occupy both of the Russian capitals, 
 the talk about the expected arrival of the sovereign on the 
 morrow, all this gave new strength to that feeling of excite- 
 ment and expectation which had not left him since the night 
 when the comet had first appeared, and especially since the 
 outbreak of the war. 
 
 The notion of entering the active military service had, for 
 some time, been much in his mind ; and he would assuredly 
 have done so if, in the first place, he had not been deterred by 
 the fact that he belonged to that Masonic fraternity, to which 
 he had bound himself by a solemn pledge, and which preached 
 eternal peace and the cessation of war ; and, in the second 
 place, because, as he beheld the great numbers of the inhab- 
 itants of Moscow who had donned uniforms and were preach- 
 ing patriotism, it would have seemed, somehow, ridiculous for 
 him to do so. But the chief reason which deterred him from 
 carrying out the idea of entering the military service was to 
 be found in that obscure conception that he, VRusse Besuhof, 
 who carried with him the number of the Beast, 666, was 
 destined to take some great part in putting bounds to the 
 power of the Beast that spoke great things and blasphemies ; 
 and that, therefore, he ought not to undertake anything, but 
 to await and see what was meant for him to accomplish. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE Rostofs, as usual on Sundays, had some of their inti- 
 mate friends to dine with them. 
 
 Pierre went early, so as to find them alone. 
 
 Pierre had grown so stout this year that he would have 
 seemed monstrous had he not been so tall, so broad-shouldered, 
 and so strong, that he carried his weight with evident ease. 
 
 Panting, and muttering something to himself, he hurried 
 upstairs. His coachman no longer thought of asking him 
 whether he should wait for him. He knew, by this time, that 

 
 WAR AND PEACE. 85 
 
 when the count was at the Rostofs', he would stay till mid- 
 night. The Rostofs' lackeys cheerfully hastened forward to 
 take his cloak, and receive his hat and caiie. Pierre, from 
 club habit, left his cane and hat in the ante-room. 
 
 The first person whom he saw was Natasha. Even before 
 he had caught sight of her, and while he was taking off his 
 cloak in the ante-room, he heard her singing solfeggios ir. 
 the music-room. 
 
 He knew that she had not sung a note since her illness, and, 
 therefore, the sounds of her voice surprised and delighted him. 
 He gently opened the door, and saw Natasha in the lilac- 
 colored dress, in which she had been to mass, pacing up and 
 down the room and singing. She was walking with her back 
 toward him when he opened the door, but when she turned 
 short about, and recognized his stout, amazed face, she blushed 
 and came swiftly toward him. 
 
 " I want to get into the habit o'f singing again," said she. 
 " It is quite an undertaking," she added, as though to excuse 
 herself. 
 
 "Audit is. splendid!" 
 
 " How glad I am that you have come ! I am so happy to- 
 day," she cried with something of that old vivacity, which 
 Pierre had so long missed in her. " You know Nicolas has 
 received the G-eorgievsky cross. I am so proud of him ! " 
 
 " Certainly : I sent you the f order of the day.' Well, I will 
 not interrupt you," he added, " but I'll go into the drawing- 
 room." 
 
 Natasha called him back : 
 
 " Count, tell me, is it wrong in me to be singing ? " she 
 asked, with a blush, but looking inquiringly into Pierre's face, 
 without dropping her eyes. 
 
 " No ! why ? On the contrary But why did you ask 
 me?" 
 
 " I am sure I don't know," replied Natasha, quickly ; " but 
 I did not wish to do anything that you would not approve. I 
 have such perfect confidence in you ! You don't know what 
 you are to me, how much you have done for me ! " She spoke 
 rapidly, and noticed not how Pierre reddened at these words. 
 " I saw that he I mean Bolkonsky " she spoke this name 
 in a hurried whisper " was mentioned in the same order, so 
 then he is serving in.Russia again. What do you think ? " she 
 asked, still speaking rapidly, evidently in haste to finish what 
 she had to say, lest she should not have the strength necessary 
 to do so "Will he ever forgive me? Will he not always
 
 86 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 bear me ill will ? What do you think about it? What do 
 you think about it ? " 
 
 " I think," Pierre began, " I think he has nothing to for- 
 give. If I were in his place " 
 
 By the force of recollection, Pierre was, in an instant, carried 
 back, in his imagination, to that moment when, in order to 
 comfort her, he had said that if he were the best man in the 
 world, and free, he would, on his knees, ask for her hand ; and 
 now the same feeling of pity, tenderness, and love, seized 
 upon him, and the same words were on his lips. But she did 
 not give him time to say them. 
 
 " Yes, you, you" said she with a peculiar solemnity, repeat- 
 ing and dwelling on the pronoun ' you that is another 
 thing. I know no man who is kinder, nobler, better ; and 
 there could not be. If it had not been for you then, and 
 now too, I don't know what would have become of me, for " 
 the tears suddenly filled her eyes ; she turned around, hid 
 her face behind her music, and began to sing her scales, and 
 walk up and down the room once more. 
 
 At this moment, Petya came running in from the drawing- 
 room. Petya was now a handsome, ruddy lad of fifteen, with 
 thick, red lips, and the image of Natasha. He was preparing 
 for the university, but lately he and his comrade, Obolyensky, 
 had secretly resolved that they would enter the hussars. 
 
 He sprang forward to his namesake, in order to speak with 
 him about a matter of importance. He had been begging him 
 to find out whether he could be admitted to the hussars. Pierre 
 went into the drawing-room, not heeding the lad. Petya gave 
 his arm a twitch, in order to attract his attention. 
 
 " Now tell me, Piotr Kiriluitch, for Heaven's sake, how is 
 my business getting on ? Is there any hope for us ? " asked 
 Petya. 
 
 " Oh, yes, your business. The hussars, is it ? I will in- 
 quire about it ; I will inquire about it, I will this very day." 
 
 " Well now, mon cher, have you brought the manifesto ? " 
 asked the old count. " The l little countess ' was at mass at 
 the Eazumovskys' and heard the new prayer. Very fine, they 
 say!" 
 
 " Yes, I have brought it," replied Pierre. " The sovereign 
 will be here to-morrow. A special meeting of the nobility has 
 been called, and they say there is to be a levy of ten out of 
 every thousand. And I congratulate you ! " 
 
 " Yes, yes, glory to God. Now tell me what is the news 
 from the army ? "
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 87 
 
 "Ours are still retreating. They are at Smolensk by this 
 time, so they say," replied Pierre. 
 
 ".My God! My God!" exclaimed the count. " Where is 
 the manifesto ? " 
 
 " The proclamation ? Oh, yes ! " 
 
 Pierre began to search in all his pockets for the papers, but 
 could not find them. While still rummaging through his 
 pockets, he kissed the countess's hand, who, at that moment, 
 came in, and he looked around uneasily, evidently expecting 
 to see Natasha, who had ceased to sing, but had not as yet 
 rejoined the others. 
 
 " Ma parole, I don't know what I have done with them ! " 
 he exclaimed. 
 
 " Well, you're always losing things," exclaimed the countess. 
 
 Natasha came in with a softened, agitated expression of 
 countenance, and sat down, looking at Pierre, without speak- 
 ing. As soon as she appeared, Pierre's face, till then dark- 
 ened with a frown, grew bright, and though he was still 
 searching for the papers, he kept looking at her. 
 
 " By Heavens ! * I must have left them at home. I will go 
 after them. Most certainly " 
 
 " But you will be late to dinner." 
 
 " Akh ! and my coachman has gone, too ! " 
 
 Sonya, however, who had gone into the ante-room to look 
 for the missing papers, found them in Pierre's hat, where he 
 had carefully stuck them under the lining. Pierre wanted to 
 read them immediately. 
 
 " No, not till after dinner," said the old count, evidently 
 anticipating the greatest treat in this reading. 
 
 At dinner, during which they drank the health of the new 
 knight of St. George in champagne, Shinshm related all the 
 'gossip of the town : about the illness of the old Princess of 
 Gruzia, and how Metivier had disappeared from Moscow, and 
 how some German had been arrested and brought to Rostop- 
 chin, and represented to be a shampinion.^ Count Rostopchin 
 had himself told the story, and how Rostopchin had com- 
 manded them to let the shampinion go, assuring the people 
 that he was not a shampinion, but simply a German toad- 
 stool ! 
 
 "They'll catch it! they'll catch it !" said the count; "I 
 have been telling the countess that she mustn't talk French so 
 much. It is not the time to do it now." 
 
 * Yet Bogu. 
 
 t French champignon, a mushroom. Slang term, meaning a Frenchman
 
 88 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 " And have you heard ? " proceeded Shinshin. " Prince G> 
 litsuin has taken a Russian tutor to teach him Russian 
 il commence d devenir dangereUx de parler fran^ais dans les 
 rues." 
 
 " Well, Count Piotr Kiriluitch, if they are going to mobilize 
 the landwehr, you'll have to get on horseback, won't you ? " 
 asked the old count, addressing Pierre. 
 
 Pierre was taciturn and thoughtful all dinner-time. As 
 though not comprehending, he gazed at the old count when 
 thus addressed. 
 
 '' Yes, yes, about the war," said he. " No ! what kind of a 
 soldier should I be ? But, after all, how strange everything 
 is ! how strange ! I can't understand it myself. I don't 
 know ; my tastes are so far from being military, but as things 
 are now no one can tell what he may do." 
 
 After dinner the count seated himself comfortably in his 
 chair, and, with a grave face, asked Sonya, who was an accom- 
 plished reader, to read. 
 
 " To Moscow our chief capital : 
 
 "The enemy has come with overwhelming force to invade 
 the boundaries of Russia. He is here to destroy our beloved 
 fatherland," read Sonya, in her clear voice. The count 
 listened with his eyes shut, sighing heavily at certain pas- 
 sages. 
 
 Natasha, with strained attention, sat looking inquiringly now 
 at her father and now at Pierre. 
 
 Pierre was conscious of her glance fastened upon him, and 
 strove not to look round. The countess shook her head 
 sternly and disapprovingly at each enthusiastic expression 
 contained in the manifesto, for everything made her see that 
 the danger threatening her son would not soon pass by. 
 
 Shinshin, with his lips formed to a satiric smile, was evi- 
 dently making ready to turn into ridicule whatever first gave 
 him a good opportunity : whether Sonya's reading, or what the 
 count should say, or even the proclamation itself, if that 
 offered him a suitable pretext. 
 
 Having read about the perils threatening Russia, the hopes 
 which the sovereign placed in Moscow, and especially in its 
 illustrious nobility, Sonya, with a trembling voice, which was 
 caused principally by the fact that they were following her 
 so closely, read the following words : 
 
 " We shall not be slow to take our place amidst our people 
 in this capital, and in other cities of our empire, so as to lead 
 in deliberations and to take the direction of all our troops, not
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 89 
 
 only those which are at the present time blocking the way of 
 the foe, but also those that are gathering to cause his defeat 
 wherever he may show himself. And may the destruction in 
 which he thinks to involve us re- act upon his own head, and 
 may Europe, delivered from servitude, magnify the name of 
 Eussia ! " 
 
 " That's the talk ! " cried the count, opening his moist eyes, 
 and several times catching his breath with a noise as though 
 a bottle of strong-smelling salts had been put to his nose : he 
 went on to say, " Only say the word, sire, and we will sacri- 
 fice everything without a regret ! " 
 
 Shinshin had no time to utter the little joke which he had 
 ready at the expense of the count's patriotism 'before Natasha 
 sprang up from her place and ran to her father. 
 
 " How lovely he is this papa of mine ! " she exclaimed, 
 giving him a kiss \ and then she glanced at Pierre again with 
 the same unconscious coquetry which had come back to her 
 together with her animation. 
 
 " What a little patriotka * she is ! " cried Shinshin. 
 
 u Not a patriotka at all, but simply " began Natasha, 
 offended. " You turn everything into ridicule, but this is no 
 laughing matter " 
 
 " Laughing matter ! " exclaimed the count. " Let him 
 only say the word, and we will all follow we are not Ger- 
 mans or " 
 
 " And did you notice," said Pierre, " that it spoke about 
 deliberations ? " 
 
 " Well, whatever he is here' for " 
 
 At that moment Petya, to whom no one had been paying 
 any attention, came up to his father, and, all flushed, said, in 
 that voice of his, which was now breaking, and was sometimes 
 bass and sometimes treble, " Now, then, papenka, my mind is 
 perfectly made up and, mamenka, too, if you please I tell 
 you both my mind is made up : you must let me go into the 
 military service, because I cannot and that's the end of 
 it" 
 
 The countess raised her eyes in dismay, and clasped her 
 hands, and, turning severely to her husband, said, " Just think 
 what he has said ! " 
 
 But the count instantly recovered from his emotion. 
 
 u Well, well ! " said he. " A fine soldier you are ! A truce 
 to such folly ! You must study ! " 
 
 " It is not folly, papenka. Fedya Obolyensky is younger 
 * The feminine of patriot.
 
 90 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 than I am, and he is going ; but, even if he weren't, I could 
 never think of studying now when " 
 
 Petya hesitated, and flushed so that the sweat stood out on 
 his forehead, but still finished, " When the country is in 
 danger." 
 
 " There ! there ! enough of this nonsense ! " 
 " But you yourself just said that we would sacrifice every- 
 ttiing ! " 
 
 " Petya ! I tell you hold your tongue ! " cried the count, 
 glancing at his wife, who had turned white, and was gazing 
 with fixed eyes at her youngest son. 
 
 " But I tell you and here is Piotr Kirillovitch will speak 
 about it " ' 
 
 " And I tell you it is all rubbish ! the milk isn't dry on 
 your lips yet ; and here you are wanting to go into the army ! 
 Nonsense, I tell you ! " and the count, gathering up the 
 papers, which he evidently intended to read over again in his 
 cabinet before going to bed, started to leave the room. 
 
 " Piotr Kirillovitch, come and have a smoke." 
 
 Pierre was in a state of confusion and uncertainty. Na- 
 tasha's unnaturally brilliant and animated eyes fixed upon 
 him steadily rather than affectionately had brought him into 
 this state. 
 
 " No, I think I will go home." 
 
 " What ? Go home ? I thought you were going to spend 
 the evening with us. And, besides, we don't see so much of 
 you as we did. And this girl of mine," said the count, gayly 
 indicating Natasha, "is merry only when you are here." 
 
 " Yes, but I had forgotten something. I must certainly go 
 home. Some business," said Pierre, hastily. 
 
 " Well, then, good-by," * said the count, and he -left the 
 room. 
 
 " Why must you go ? Why are you so out of spirits ? 
 What is it ? " asked Natasha, looking inquiringly into Pierre's 
 eyes. 
 
 " Because I love thee ! " was what was on his lips to say, 
 but he did not say it ; he reddened till the tears came, and 
 dropped his eyes. 
 
 " Because it is better for me not to be here so much 
 because No, simply because I have some business." 
 
 " What is it ? No ! Tell me," Natasha began resolutely, 
 but suddenly stopped. The two looked at each other in dis- 
 may arid confusion. He tried to smile, but it was a vain 
 * Do svidcinya, like an revoir, auf wiedewehen.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 91 
 
 attempt : his smile expressed his suffering ; and he kissed her 
 hand without speaking, and left the house. 
 
 Pierre solemnly made up his mind not to visit at the Eos- 
 tofs' any more. 
 
 CHAPTEE XXI. 
 
 I 
 
 PETYA, after the decided repulse which he had received, 
 went to his room and there, apart from every one, wept bitterly. 
 All pretended, however, not to remark his red eyes, when he 
 came down to tea, silent and gloomy. 
 
 On the following day, the sovereign arrived. Several of 
 the Eostofs' household serfs asked permission to go and see 
 the tsar. 
 
 That morning it took Petya a long time to dress, comb his 
 hair, and arrange his collar, so as to make it look as full-grown 
 men wore theirs. He stood scowling before the mirror, mak- 
 ing gestures, lifting his shoulders, and, at last, saying nothing 
 to any one, he put on his cap and left the house by the back 
 door, so as not to be observed. 
 
 Petya had made up his mind to go straight to the place 
 where the sovereign would be, and' to give a perfectly 
 straightforward explanation to one of the chamberlains he 
 supposed the sovereign was always surrounded by chamber- 
 lains and tell him that he, Count Eostof , in spite of his 
 youth, wished to serve his country, that his youth could not 
 be an obstacle in the w#y of devotion, and that he was ready 
 
 Petya, by the time he was all dressed, was well fortified with 
 fine words which he should say to the chamberlain. 
 
 Petya relied for the success of his application to the sover- 
 eign on the very fact that he was a mere child he thought 
 even that they would all be amazed at his youth and, at the 
 same time, by the arrangement of his nice little collar, and 
 the combing of his hair, and his slow and dignified gait, he 
 was anxious to give the impression of being a full-grown man. 
 
 But the farther he went, and the more he -was involved in 
 the throngs and throngs of people gathering around the Kreml, 
 the more he forgot to keep up that appearance of dignity and 
 moderation which marks the full-grown man. 
 
 As he approached the Kreml, he had a hard struggle to keep 
 from being jostled ; and this he did by putting on a decidedly 
 threatening face, and resolutely applying his elbows to oppos- 
 ing ribs. But at Trinity Gate, in spite of all his resolution, the
 
 92 WA'R AND PEACE. 
 
 people, who evidently had no idea what patriotic object brought 
 him to the Kreml, crushed him up against the wall in such a way 
 that he had to make a virtue of the necessity, and pause, while 
 through the gateway rolled the equipages, thundering by under 
 the vaulted arch. 
 
 Near Petya stood a peasant woman and a lackey, two mer- 
 chants, and a retired soldier. After waiting some time at the 
 Gate, Petya determined not to wait until all the carriages had 
 passed, but to push farther on in advance of the others ; and 
 he began to work his elbows vigorously ; but the peasant 
 woman, who stood next him, and was the first to feel the appli- 
 cation of his elbows, screamed at him angrily, 
 
 " Here, my little barchuk* what are you poking me for ? 
 Don't you see every one is standing still ? Where are you 
 trying to get to ? " 
 
 "That's a game more than one can work," said the lackey, 
 and also vigorously plying his elbows, he sent Petya into the 
 ill-smelling corner of the gateway. 
 
 Petya wiped the sweat from his face with his hands, and 
 tried to straighten up his collar, which had collapsed with the 
 moisture that collar which, when he had left home, so well 
 satisfied him with the effect of maturity that it gave him. He 
 felt that he now was in an unpresentable state, and he was 
 afraid that if he went to the chamberlain in such a 
 plight, he would not be allowed to approach the sovereign. 
 But to put himself to rights, or to get from where he was to 
 another place, was an impossibility, owing to the throng. A 
 general, who happened to be passing at .that moment, was an 
 acquaintance of the Rostofs. It occurred to Petya to shout 
 to him for help ; but he came to the conclusion that that would 
 not be compatible with manliness. 
 
 After all the equipages had passed, the throng burst through, 
 and carried Petya along with it into the square, which was 
 also full of the populace. Not the square alone, but the slopes 
 and the housetops, every available place, was full of people. 
 As soon as Petya got fairly into the square, the sounds of the 
 bells filling all the Kreml, and the joyous shouts of the people, 
 made themselves manifest to his ears. 
 
 At one time there was more room on the square, but sud- 
 denly every head was bared, and the whole mass of people 
 rushed forward. Petya was so crushed that he could hardly 
 breathe, and still the acclamations rent the air : Hurrah ! hur- 
 
 * BdrchenoJc, barchuk, is the popular diminutive of bdritch, that is to say, 
 the son of a barin, or nobleman, gentleman.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 93 
 
 rah ! hurrah ! Petya got upon his tiptoes, pushed and pinched, 
 but still he could see nothing except the people around him. 
 
 All faces wore one and the same expression of emotion and 
 enthusiasm. One woman, a merchant's wife, standing near 
 Petya, sobbed, and the tears streamed from her eyes, 
 
 " Father ! angel ! batyushka ! " she cried, rubbing the tears 
 away with her fingers. 
 
 The huzzas resounded on every side. 
 
 The throng, for a single instant, stood still in one place ; 
 then it rushed onward again. 
 
 Petya, entirely forgetting himself, set his teeth together 
 like a wild beast, and, with his eyes starting from his head, 
 plunged forward, using his elbows, and shouting "Hurrah" at 
 the top of his voice, as though he were ready and willing that 
 moment to kill himself and every one else ; while on every 
 side of him there were ever the same wild faces uttering the 
 same huzzas. 
 
 " So, then, that's the kind of a man the sovereign is ! " 
 thought Petya. "No, it would be impossible for me to 
 deliver my petition in person ; it would be quite too auda- 
 cious." 
 
 Nevertheless, he still struggled desperately forward, and, 
 ;,ust beyond the backs in front of him, he could see an empty 
 space, with a lane covered with red cloth ; but at this instant 
 'the throng ebbed back ; the police in front were driving them 
 away from the path of the procession, wfiich they were incom- 
 moding ; the sovereign was on his way from the palace to the 
 Uspiensky Cathedral, and Petya unexpectedly received such a 
 blow in the ribs, and was so crushed, that suddenly every- 
 thing grew confused before his eyes, and he lost conscious- 
 ness. 
 
 When he came to himself, some strange priest, appar- 
 ently a diachok, in a well-worn, blue cassock, and with a 
 long mane of gray hair) was supporting him with one arm, 
 and with the other defending him from the pressure of the 
 throng. 
 
 " You have crushed a young nobleman !" * cried the diachok. 
 " Look out, there ! Easy ! You have crushed him ! You 
 have crushed him ! " 
 
 The sovereign entered the Uspiensky Cathedral. The crowd 
 
 again thinned out a little, and the priest took Petya, pale and 
 
 hardly able to breathe, to the Tsar-puslika, or King of Guns. 
 
 Several individuals had pity on Petya, but then suddenly the 
 
 * Edrchenok, nobleman's son.
 
 94 WAR AND -PEACE. 
 
 throng surged up against him again, and he was already 
 involved in the billows of the mob. But those who stood 
 nearest to him gave him a helping hand, while others unbut- 
 toned his coat, and got him up to the top of the cannon, and 
 reviled some of those who had abused him so. 
 
 " Would you crush him to death that way ! " " What do 
 you mean ? " " Why, it's downright murder ! " " See the 
 poor fellow, he's as white as a sheet ! " said various voices. 
 
 Petya quickly recovered himself, the color returned to his 
 cheek, his pain passed off, and, as a compensation for this 
 momentary discomfort, he had his place on the cannon, from 
 which he hoped to see the sovereign pass by on his way back. 
 Petya no longer even thought of preferring his request. If he 
 could only see him, then he should consider himself perfectly 
 happy ! 
 
 During the time of the service in the Uspiensky Cathedral, 
 which consisted of a Te Deum in honor of the sovereign's arri- 
 val, and a thanksgiving for the conclusion of peace with 
 Turkey, the throng thinned out, pedlers of kvas, gingerbread, 
 and poppy seeds which Petya specially affected made 
 their appearance proclaiming their wares, and the ordinary 
 chatter of a crowd was heard. 
 
 A merchant's wife was lamenting her torn shawl, and tell- 
 ing how dear it had cost her. Another made the remark that 
 at the present time all sorts of silk stuffs were costly. The 
 diachok, Petya's rescuer, was disputing with an official as to 
 who and who were assisting His Eminence in the service. 
 The priest several times repeated the word sobornye* which 
 Petya did not understand. Two young fellows were jesting 
 with some servant girls, who were munching nuts. 
 
 All these conversations, especially the jokes with the girls, 
 which ordinarily would have been extremely fascinating to 
 Petya at his age, now failed entirely to attract his attention. 
 He sat on his coign of vantage the cannon just as much 
 excited as ever at the thought of his sovereign and of his love 
 for him. The coincidence of his feeling of pain and terror 
 when they were crushing him, and his feeling of enthusiasm 
 still more strengthened in him the consciousness of the im- 
 portance of this moment. Suddenly, from the embankment 
 were heard the sounds of cannon-shots, they were fired in 
 commemoration of the peace with the Turks, and the 
 throng rushed eagerly toward the embankment to see them 
 fire the cannon. 
 
 * A Slavonic word signifying that all the clergy of the cathedral (toboii 
 assisted.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 9 
 
 Petya wanted to go, too, but the priest who Jiad taken the 
 young nobleman under his protection would not permit him. 
 These guns were still firing when from the Uspiensky Cathe- 
 dral came a number of officers, generals, and chamberlains ; 
 then, more deliberately, came still others ; again heads were 
 uncovered, and those who had rushed to see the firing came 
 running back. Last of all there emerged from the portal of 
 the cathedral four men in uniforms and ribbons. " Hurrah ! 
 hurrah ! " shouted the throng. 
 
 " Which is he ? Which one ? " asked Petya, in a tearful 
 voice, of those around him, but no one gave him any answer ; 
 all were too much pre-occupied : and Petya, selecting one of 
 these four personages, which he had some difficulty in doing, 
 owing to the tears of joy that blinded his eyes, concen- 
 trated on him all his enthusiasm although it happened not 
 to be the monarch ! and shouted " Hurrah " in a frenzied 
 voice, and made up his mind that, the very next day, cost what 
 it might, he would become a soldier. 
 
 The throng rushed after the sovereign, accompanied him to 
 the palace, and then began to disperse. It was already late, 
 and Petya had eaten nothing, and the sweat streamed from 
 him ; still he had no idea of going home yet, and he stood in 
 front of the palace with the diminished but still enormous 
 throng all through the time that the sovereign was eating his 
 dinner, gazing at the windows of the palace, still expecting 
 something, and envying the dignitaries who came up to the 
 doorway to take part in the dinner, and even the footmen, 
 who were serving the tables, and passing swiftly in front of 
 the windows. 
 
 During the dinner Valuyef, glancing out of the window, 
 remarked to the sovereign, "The people are still hoping to 
 have another glimpse of your majesty." 
 
 When the banquet was over, the sovereign arose, still eating 
 the last of a biscuit, and went out on the balcony. The 
 throng,. Petya in the number, rushed toward the balcony, 
 shouting, " Angel ! batyushka ! hurrah ! " 
 
 " Father ! " cried the people, and Petya also, and again the 
 women and some of the men of weaker mould Petya among 
 the number wept for joy. 
 
 A pretty good-sized piece of the biscuit, which the sovereign 
 held in his hand, crumbled and dropped upon the railing of 
 the balcony, and from the railing to the ground. A coachman 
 in a sleeveless coat, standing nearer than any one else, sprang 
 forward and seized this crumb. Several of the throng flung
 
 96 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 themselves on the coachman. The sovereign, perceiving this, 
 commanded a plate of biscuits to be handed to him, and began 
 to toss them from the balcony. 
 
 Petya' s eyes were bloodshot ; the danger of being crushed 
 to death again threatened him, but he rushed for the bis- 
 cuits. He knew not why, but his ' happiness depended on 
 having one of those biscuits from the tsar's hand, and he was 
 bound he would not give in. He sprang forward and overset 
 an old woman who was just grasping a biscuit. But the old 
 woman had no idea of considering herself vanquished, although 
 she was flat on the ground, for she held the biscuit clutched 
 in her fist, and had not dropped it. Petya knocked it out of 
 her hand with his knee, and seized it, and, as though fearing 
 that he should be too late, he shouted " Hurrah," with his 
 hoarse voice. 
 
 The sovereign retired, and after this the larger part of the 
 crowd began to separate. " I said there'd be something more 
 to see, and so it turned out/" said various voices, joyously, 
 amid the throng. 
 
 Happy as Petya was, it was, nevertheless, a gloomy pros- 
 pect for him to go home, and know that all the happiness of 
 the day was done. Instead, therefore, of going home, lie left 
 the Kreml, and went to find his comrade. Obolyensky, who was 
 also fifteen years old, and who also was bent upon going into 
 the army. 
 
 When, at last, he reached his home, he clearly and definitely 
 declared that, if they would not give him their permission, he 
 would run away. And. on the next day, Count Ilya Andre- 
 yitch, though not fully decided to give his assent, went to learn 
 in what way some place might be found for Petya, where he 
 would be least exposed to danger. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 Ox the morning of the 27th, three days later, a countless 
 throng of equipages were drawn up in the vicinity of the Slo- 
 bodsky palace. 
 
 The halls were all crowded. In the front room were the 
 nobles in their uniforms ; in the second room were the mer- 
 chants, wearing medals, beards, and blue kaftans. 
 
 There was a bustle and movement in the room where the 
 nobles were gathered. Around a great table, over which hung 
 a portrait of the sovereign, sat the most distinguished digni-
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 97 
 
 taries, in high-backed chairs ; but the majority of the nobles 
 were walking up and down. 
 
 All the nobles the very men whom Pierre was accustomed 
 to see every day at the club or at their own homes were in uni- 
 forms, some dating from Catherine's time, some from Paul's, 
 some in the newer-fashioned ones that had come in with Alex- 
 ander, some in the ordinary uniform of the Russian nobil- 
 ity ; and this universality of uniform gave a certain strange 
 and fantastic character to these individuals, of such varying 
 a^es and types, well known as they were to Pierre. Especially 
 noticeable were the old men, dull-eyed, toothless, bald, with 
 flesh turning to yellow fat, or wrinkled and thin. These, for 
 the most part, sat in their places and had nothing to say ; and, 
 if they walked about and talked, they addressed themselves to 
 men their juniors. Likewise, as in the faces of the throng 
 which Petya had seen on the Kreml square, so here these 
 faces wore a most astounding contrariety of expressions : the 
 general expectation of some solemn event, as opposed to what 
 usually happened : the party of boston, Petrusha the cook's 
 dinner, the exchange of greetings with Zinaida Dmitrievna 
 and things of the sort. 
 
 Pierre, who since early morning had been pinched into a 
 court uniform that was awkward for him, because it was too 
 tight in its fit, was present. He was in a high state of excite- 
 ment : a meeting extraordinary, not only of the nobility, but 
 also of the merchant class a legislative assembly, etats gene- 
 raux had awakened in him a whole throng of ideas about 
 the Contrat social, and the French Revolution ideas which 
 he had long ago ceased to entertain, but were, nevertheless, 
 deeply engraven in his mind. The words of the proclamation 
 which said that the sovereign was coming to his capital, for 
 the purpose of deliberating with his people, confirmed him in 
 this opinion. And thus supposing that the important reform 
 which he had been long waiting to see introduced would now 
 be tried, he walked about, looked on, listened to the conversa- 
 tions, but nowhere found any one expressing the ideas that 
 occupied him. 
 
 The sovereign's manifesto was read, arousing great enthusi- 
 asm ; and then the assembly broke up into groups, discussing 
 affairs. Pierre heard men talking not only about matters of 
 universal interest, but also about such things as where the 
 marshals of the nobility should stand when the sovereign 
 came, when the ball should be given to his majesty, whether 
 the division should be made by districts or taking the whole 
 VOL. 3. 7.
 
 98 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 government, and other questions of the sort. But as soon as 
 the war became a topic of conversation, or the object of calling 
 the meeting of the nobility was mentioned, the discussions 
 became vague and irresolute. All preferred to listen rather 
 than to talk. 
 
 One middle-aged man of strikingly gallant bearing, and 
 wearing the uniform of a retired officer of the navy, was talk- 
 ing in one room, and a group was gathered around him. Pierre 
 joined it, and began to listen. Count Ilya Audrey itch, in his 
 Voevode's kaftan of Catherine's time, after making his way 
 through the crowd, with a pleasant greeting for every one, also 
 approached this same group, and began to listen, as he always 
 listened, with his good-natured smile, and nodding his head to 
 signify that his sentiments were in accord with the speaker's. 
 
 The retired naval man spoke very boldly as could be 
 judged by the faces of his listeners, and because certain of 
 Pierre's acquaintances, well known for their submissive and 
 gentle natures, turned away from him, or disagreed with what 
 he said. Pierre forced his way into the centre of this group, 
 and gave good heed, and came to the conclusion that the speaker 
 was genuinely liberal, but in a very different sense from what 
 Pierre understood by liberality. The naval man spoke in that 
 peculiar, ringing, singsong baritone characteristic of the Rus- 
 sian nobility, with an agreeable slurring of the r's and short- 
 ening of consonants a voice, too, fitted to issue a command. 
 
 " Suppose the people of Smolensk have offered to raise mili- 
 tia for the sov'e'n. Can the Smolenskites lay down the law for 
 us ? If the ge'm'en of the Muscovite iiobil'ty find it neces'y, 
 they can show their devotion to their sove'n and emp'r in some 
 other way. We haven't forgotten the calling out of the land- 
 wehr in 1807, have we ? Only rasc'ly priests' sons and plun- 
 d'r's got any good from it." 
 
 Count Ilya Andreyitch, with a shadow of a smile, nodded 
 his head approvingly. 
 
 " And I should like to know if our militia have ever done 
 the empire any good ? Not the least. They have merely 
 ruined our farming int'rests. A levy is much better for 
 the militia man comes back to you neither a soldier nor a 
 muzhik, but simply spoiled and good for nothing. The nobles 
 don't grudge their lives ; we are perfectly willing to take the 
 field ourselves and bring along recruits with us ; the sove'n * 
 has only to speak the word and we will all die for him," added 
 the orator, growing excited. 
 
 * "He pronounced Gosudar, gusai: " parenthesis in text.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 99 
 
 Ilya Andreyitch swallowed down the spittle in his mouth 
 with gratification at hearing such sentiments, and nudged 
 Pierre, but Pierre also had a strong desire to speak. He 
 pushed still farther forward ; he felt that he was excited, but 
 he had no idea what should cause him to speak, and as yet he 
 had still less idea of what he was going to say. He had just 
 opened his mouth to speak when a senator, who had absolutely 
 no teeth at all, but who had a stern, intelligent face, sud- 
 denly interrupted Pierre. He had been standing near the 
 naval orator. Evidently used to leading in debate, and hold- 
 ing his own in argument, he spoke in a low but audible 
 voice : 
 
 " I suppose, my dear sir," said the senator the words 
 sounding thick, owing to his toothless mouth "I suppose 
 that we have been summoned here not for the purpose of 
 deciding whether at the present moment enlistment of soldiers 
 or levies of militia will be most beneficial for the empire, but 
 we have been summoned here to respond to the proclamation 
 which the emperor our sovereign has deigned to address to 
 us. And the decision of the question which is the more 
 advantageous recruits or militia we may safely leave to 
 his supreme autho " 
 
 Pierre suddenly found an outlet for his excitement. He 
 was indignant with the senator for taking such a strict and 
 narrow view of the functions of the nobility. Pierre took a 
 step forward and interrupted the senator. He himself knew 
 not what he was going to say, but he began hotly, occasionally 
 breaking out into French expressions, and when he spoke in 
 Russian "talking like a book." 
 
 " Excuse me, your excellency," he began. Pierre was well 
 acquainted with this senator, but now he felt that it was in- 
 cumbent upon him to address him with perfunctory formality. 
 "Although I cannot agree with the gentleman" Pierre hesi- 
 tated. He wanted to say Mon tres-h onorable preopinant " with 
 the gentleman que je n'ai pas Vhonneur de connaitre still 
 I suppose that the nobility have been called together now not 
 alone to express their sympathy and enthusiasm, but likewise 
 to decide on the measures by which we may aid the father- 
 land. I suppose," said he, growing still more animated, "I 
 suppose that the sovereign himself would have been sorry if 
 he saw in us nothing but owners of peasants whom we should 
 give him as meat for as chair a canon but rather as co 
 co counsellors " 
 
 Several moved away from this group as they noticed the
 
 100 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 senator's scornful smile and the excitement under which 
 Pierre was laboring ; only Ilya Andreyitch was content with 
 Pierre's deliverance, just as he had been with the naval man's 
 speech and the senator's, and, as a general rule, with the last 
 one which he ever happened to hear. 
 
 " I suppose that before we decide these questions," pursued 
 Pierre, "we ought to ask the sovereign, we ought most re- 
 spectfully to ask his majesty to give us a full and definite 
 account of how many troops we have, in what condition they 
 are, and then " 
 
 But Pierre was not allowed to finish his sentence ; he was 
 attacked from three sides at once. More violently than by 
 any one else he was assailed by an acquaintance of his of very 
 long standing, always well disposed to him and frequently his 
 partner at boston, Stepan Stepanovitch Adraksin. Stepan 
 Stepanovitch was in uniform, and either it was the uniform or 
 some other reason that made Pierre see himself opposed by 
 an entirely different man from what he had ever known. 
 Stepan Stepanovitch, with an expression of senile wrath sud- 
 denly flushing his face, screamed out at Pierre : 
 
 " In the first place I would have you understand that we 
 have no right to ask the sovereign any such thing, and in the 
 second place even if the Russian nobility had such a right, 
 even then the sovereign could not answer us. The movements 
 of our troops depend upon those of the enemy the troops 
 increase and decrease " % 
 
 Another man, of medium height, forty years old, whom 
 Pierre had seen in days gone by at the Gypsies' and knew as 
 a wretched card player, and who now like the rest had a 
 wholly changed aspect in his uniform, interrupted Adraksin : 
 " Yes, and besides it is not the time to criticise," said the 
 voice of this noble, " but we must act ; the war is in Russia. 
 The enemy are coming to destroy Russia, to desecrate the 
 tombs of our sires, to lead into captivity our wives and our 
 children." The nobleman struck his chest a ringing blow. 
 " Let us all arise, let us all go as one man in defence of our 
 batyushka, the tsar ! " he cried, wildly rolling his bloodshot 
 eyes. 
 
 Several approving voices were heard in the throng. 
 
 "We Russians will never begrudge our lives for the defence 
 of the faith, the throne, and the fatherland ; but we must re- 
 nounce day dreams if we are the true sons of the country. 
 Let us show Europe how Russia can defend Russia ! " cried a 
 nobleman.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 101 
 
 Pierre wanted to make a reply, but he could not say a word. 
 He was conscious that even the sound of his voice inde- 
 pendent of the meaning of what he would say was less 
 audible than the sound of the nobleman's voice. 
 
 Ilya Andreyitch stood just behind the circle, looking on 
 approvingly ; several applauded the speaker when he finished, 
 and shouted, 
 
 "Hear! Hear!" 
 
 Pierre was anxious to say that while he would be ready to 
 sacrifice himself to any extent, either in money or in his 
 peasants, still he should like to know how affairs were situated 
 before he could help, but he found it impossible to get a word 
 in. Many voices spoke and shouted all at once, so that Ilya 
 Andreyitch had no chance even to nod his head in assent to 
 everything, and the group grew in size, broke asunder, and 
 then formed again swaying and tumultuous, and moved across 
 the room toward the great table. 
 
 Not only was Pierre prevented from speaking, but he was 
 rudely interrupted, assailed, and pushed aside, and treated as 
 though he were a common foe. This was not because they 
 were dissatisfied with the sentiments which he expressed, for 
 they had already forgotten what he had said after the multi 
 tude of other things spoken since, but what was necessary tc 
 excite the throng was some palpable object of love and some 
 palpable object of hatred. Pierre had made himself the lat- 
 ter. Many orators followed the excited nobleman, and all 
 spoke in the same tone. Many spoke eloquently and with 
 originality. 
 
 The editor of the Russky Vyestnik, Glinka,* who was well 
 known, and was greeted with shouts of " The writer ! the 
 writer ! " declared that hell must contend with hell ; that he 
 had seen a child smiling at the flashing of lightning and at the 
 crashing of thunder, but that we should not be like such a 
 child as that. 
 
 " No ! no ! we must not ! " was heard approvingly spcken in 
 the most distant circles. 
 
 The throng drifted up to the great table where sat the sep- 
 tuagenarian notables, old and gray and bald, in uniforms and 
 ribbons, veterans whom Pierre had seen, almost without excep- 
 tion, at home under jolly circumstances or at the club-house 
 
 * Sergyei Nikolayevitch Glinka, born at Smolensk 1776, founded the 
 Russian Messenger, 1808, which, in 1812, was the very pillar of nationalism,' 
 he also, at his own cost, furnished twenty men for the rnilitia; died, 1^*47 
 leaving one hundred and fifty volumes of works.
 
 102 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 or playing boston. The throng drew near the table, and still 
 the roar of shouting and talk went on. One after the other, 
 and sometimes two at once, pressing up against the high-backed 
 chairs, the orators spoke their thoughts. Those who stood in 
 the rear finished saying what any orator had no time to say to 
 the end, and filled out the omitted passages. Others, in spite 
 of the heat and closeness, racked their brains trying to find 
 some new idea and to give it utterance. Pierre's friends, the 
 aged notables, sat and gazed, now at one, now at the other, and 
 the expression of the majority of their faces merely said that 
 it was very hot. 
 
 Pierre, however, felt intensely excited, and a great desire 
 came over him to have the meeting understand that he was as 
 ready as the rest to be moved' and stirred by that which was 
 expressed more in the sounds of their voices and their looks 
 than in the sense of the words they spoke. He had no inten- 
 tion of renouncing his convictions, but he somehow felt as 
 though he were in the wrong, and he wanted to set himself 
 right. 
 
 " I merely said that it would be easier for us to make sacri- 
 fices if we could know what was needed," he began to say, try- 
 ing to outshout the rest. 
 
 A little old man who happened to be standing near him 
 looked at him, but was immediately attracted by a shout raised 
 at the other side of the table. 
 
 " Yes, Moscow shall be delivered ! She shall be the deliv- 
 erer ! " some one was shouting. 
 
 " He is the enemy of the human race ! " cried another. 
 
 "Allow me to speak " 
 
 " Gentlemen, you are crushing me ! " 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 AT this moment, Count Rostopchin, in a general's uniform 
 and with a broad ribbon across his shoulder, with his promi- 
 nent chin and keen eyes, came into the room, and swiftly 
 passed through the throng of nobles, who made way before 
 him. 
 
 "Our sovereign, the emperor, will be here immediately," 
 said Rostopchin. "I have just come from there. I think 
 that in the position in which we find ourselves there is very 
 little room for debate. The sovereign has done us the honor 
 of calling us together, and the merchant class," said Counf
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 103 
 
 Rostopchin. "They in there control millions," he pointed 
 to the hall where the merchants were, " and it is our busi- 
 ness to furnish the landwehr, and not to spare ourselves. That 
 is the least that we can do ! " 
 
 The notables, sitting by themselves at the table, held a con- 
 sultation. The consultation could hardly be described as sub- 
 dued. There was even a melancholy effect produced when, 
 after all the noise and enthusiasm, these senile voices were 
 heard, one after the other, saying, " I am content," or, for the 
 sake of variety, " That is my opinion," and the like. 
 
 The secretary of the meeting was bidden to write that the 
 Moscovites, in a meeting of the nobility, had unanimously 
 resolved to follow the example of Smolensk, and offer a levy 
 of ten men out of every thousand, completely armed and 
 equipped. 
 
 The gentlemen who had been sitting arose, as though freed 
 from a heavy task, noisily pushed back their chairs, and stirred 
 about the hall so as to stretch their legs, perchance taking the 
 arm of some acquaintance, and talking matters over. 
 
 " The sovereign ! the sovereign ! " was the cry suddenly 
 shouted through the halls, and the whole throng rushed to 
 the entrance. 
 
 Through a broad lane, between a wall of nobles, the sover- 
 eign entered the hall. All faces expressed a reverent and 
 awesome curiosity. Pierre was standing at some little dis- 
 tance, and could not fully catch all that the sovereign said in 
 his address. 
 
 He comprehended only from what he heard that the sover- 
 eign spoke about the peril in which the country stood, and the 
 hopes which he placed upon the Muscovite nobility. Some 
 one spoke in response to the sovereign's address, and merely 
 confirmed the resolution which had just before been engrossed. 
 
 " Gentlemen," said the sovereign's trembling voice ; a ripple 
 of excitement ran through the throng, and then dead silence 
 reigned again, and this time Pierre distinctly heard the sover- 
 eign's extremely agreeable voice, affected with genuine emo- 
 tion, saying, 
 
 " I have never doubted the devotion of the Russian nobility. 
 But this day it has exceeded my expectations. I thank you 
 in the name of the fatherland. Gentlemen, let us act time 
 is precious " 
 
 The sovereign ceased speaking ; the throng gathered round 
 him, and on every side were heard enthusiastic exclamations. 
 
 "Yes, precious indeed the tsar's word!" said Ilya An
 
 104 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 drey itch, with a sob ; he had heard nothing, but put his own 
 interpretation on everything. 
 
 The sovereign passed from the hall where the nobles were 
 into that where the merchants were gathered. He remained 
 there about ten minutes. Pierre and several others saw him 
 on his way from their hall with tears of emotion in his eyes. 
 As was learned afterwards, the sovereign had hardly begun 
 his speech to the merchants before the tears had streamed 
 from his eyes, and he had ended it in a voice broken with 
 emotion. When Pierre saw him, he was coming out accom- 
 panied by two merchants. One was an acquaintance of Pierre's 
 a stout brandy farmer ; the other was the city provost, a 
 man with a thin yellow face and a peaked beard. Both of 
 them were in tears. The thin man wept, but the stout brandy 
 farmer was sobbing like a child, and kept saying, 
 
 " Take our lives and our all, your majesty ! " 
 
 Pierre at this moment felt no other desire than to prove 
 how little he treasured anything, and that he was ready to 
 make any sacrifice. He reproached himself for his speech 
 with its constitutional tendency ; he tried to think of some 
 means to efface the impression which it had made. Learning 
 that Count Mamonof had offered a regiment, Bezukhoi imme- 
 diately announced to Count Rostopchin that he would give a 
 thousand men and their maintenance. 
 
 Old Rostof could not refrain from tears when he told his 
 wife what had been done, and he then and there granted 
 Petya's request, and went himself to see that his name was 
 enrolled. 
 
 The next day the sovereign took his departure. All the 
 nobles who had assembled took off their uniforms, once 
 more resumed their ordinary avocations at home and in their 
 clubs, and, groaning, gave orders to their overseers in regard to 
 the landwehr levy, and marvelled at what they had done.
 
 PART SECOND. 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 NAPOLEON entered upon the war with Russia because he 
 had to go to Dresden, had to lose his judgment from excess of 
 honors, had to put on a Polish uniform, had to feel the stimu- 
 lating impression of a July morning, and had to give way to 
 an outburst of fury in the presence of Kurakin and afterwards 
 of Balashof. 
 
 Alexander refused to hear to any negotiations, because he 
 felt that he had been personally insulted. 
 
 Barclay de Tolly strove to direct the troops in the very best 
 way, so that he might do his duty and win the renown of 
 being a great commander. 
 
 Rostof charged the French because he could not resist the 
 temptation to make a dash across an open field. 
 
 And thus acted in exactly the same way, in accordance with 
 vheir own natural characteristics, habits, dispositions, and 
 aims, all the innumerable individuals who took part in this 
 war. They had their fears and their vanities, they had their 
 enjoyments and their fits of indignation, and they all supposed 
 that they knew what they were doing, and that they were 
 doing it for themselves ; but they were in reality the irre- 
 sponsible tools of history, and they brought about a work 
 which they themselves could not realize, but which is plain 
 for us to see. 
 
 Such is the inevitable fate of all who take an active part in 
 life, and the higher they stand in the social hierarchy the less 
 free are they. Now, those who took part in the events of the 
 year 1812 have long ago passed from the scene ; their personal 
 interests have vanished without leaving a trace, and only the 
 historical results of that time are before us. 
 
 Let us now once admit that the armies of Europe, under the 
 leadership of Napoleon, had to plunge into the depths 'of Rus- 
 sia, and there to perish, and all the self-contradictory, sense- 
 less, atrocious deeds of those who took part in this war be- 
 come comprehensible for us. 
 
 105
 
 106 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 Providence obliged all these men, who were each striving 
 to attain his own ends, to work together for the accomplish- 
 ment of one tremendous result, of which no man neither 
 Napoleon nor Alexander any more than the most insignificant 
 participant had the slightest anticipation. 
 
 It is now plain to us what caused the destruction of the 
 French army in the year 1812. No one will attempt to dis- 
 pute that the cause of the destruction of Napoleon's French 
 troops was, on the one hand, their plunging into the depths of 
 Russia too late in the season, and without sufficient prepara- 
 tion ; and, on the other hand, the character given to the war 
 by the burning of the Russian cities, and the consequent awak- 
 ening in the Russian people of hatred against the foe. 
 
 But at that time not only had no one any idea of such a 
 thing, though now it seems so evident, that an army of 
 eight hundred thousand men, the best that the world had ever 
 seen, and conducted by the greatest of leaders, could only in 
 this way have met with its destruction in a collision with an 
 army of half its size, inexperienced, and under the lead of in- 
 experienced generals ; not only no one had any idea of such a 
 thing, but, moreover, all the exertions of the Russians were 
 systematically directed toward preventing the only thing that 
 could save Russia, and all the exertions of the French, in spite 
 of Napoleon's experience and his so-called military genius, 
 were directed toward reaching Moscow by the end of the 
 summer : in other words, doing the very thing which was 
 bound to prove his ruin. 
 
 French authors, in their accounts of the year 1812, are very 
 fond of declaring that Napoleon felt the risk he ran in extend- 
 ing his line, that he sought to give battle, that his marshals 
 advised him to halt at Smolensk. And they bring forward 
 other arguments of the sort, to prove that even then the peril 
 of the Russian campaign was foreseen. 
 
 On the other hand, Russian authors are even more fond of 
 declaring that, at the very beginning of the campaign, the 
 scheme was already conceived of decoying Napoleon into the 
 depths of Russia, after the manner of the Scythians, and 
 some ascribe this scheme to Pfuhl, others to some Frenchman, 
 others again to Toll, and still others to the Emperor Alexan- 
 der himself. For their proof, they cite certain memoirs, sug- 
 gestions, and letters, in which it really happens that allusions 
 to some such mode of action can be found. 
 
 But all these allusions, suggesting that what was done 
 either by the French or the Russians was the result of calcu-
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 107 
 
 lation, are made to look so at the present day simply because 
 what actually took place has justified them. 
 
 If the event had not taken place, then these allusions would 
 have been neglected, just as thousands and millions of hints 
 and suggestions of entirely opposite character are now forgot- 
 ten, though they were all the vogue at that time, but, having 
 been found to be incorrect, were therefore relegated to the 
 limbo of forgetfulness. 
 
 The issue of any event whatever is always involved in so 
 many hypotheses, that no matter how it really turns some one 
 will be found to say, " I told you it would happen so," entirely 
 forgetting that among the numberless hypotheses others were 
 made which proved to be perfectly erroneous. 
 
 To suppose that Napoleon foresaw the peril of extending 
 his line and that the Russians thought of alluring the enemy 
 into the depths of their country, evidently belongs to this 
 category, and it is only by very forced reasoning that his- 
 torians can ascribe such divination to Napoleon and such 
 schemes to the Russian generals. 
 
 All the facts are absolutely opposed to such hypotheses. 
 
 The Russians throughout the war not only had no thought or 
 desire to decoy the French into the depths of the country, but, 
 Ion the other hand, everything was done to prevent them from 
 I making the first advance beyond their borders, and Napoleon 
 not only had no fear of extending his line, but he felt a joy 
 amounting to enthusiasm at every onward movement, and .he 
 showed no such eagerness as in his earlier campaigns to give 
 battle. 
 
 At the very beginning of the campaign our armies are 
 separated, and our single aim, in which we employ all our 
 energies, is to unite them, whereas if it had been our intention 
 to retreat and decoy the enemy into following us, there would 
 not have been the slightest advantage in making a junction 
 of the forces. 
 
 The emperor is with the army in order to inspire the troops 
 
 to defend the Russian land and not to yield an inch of ground. 
 
 The enormous fortified camp of the Drissa is established 
 
 According to Pfuhl's design, and there is no thought of retreat- 
 
 ing. The sovereign reproaches the commander-in-chief for 
 
 ievery backward step. The emperor could never have dreamed 
 
 i either of the burning of Moscow or the presence of the enemy 
 
 at Smolensk, and when the armies are united the sovereign is 
 
 i exasperated because Smolensk is taken and burned, and be- 
 
 I cause a general engagement is not delivered under its walls.
 
 108 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 Such are the sovereign's views, but the Russian ge lerals 
 and all the Russian people are still more exasperated at the 
 mere suggestion of retreating before the enemy. 
 
 ' Napoleon, having cut our armies asunder, moves on into the 
 interior of the country, and allows to pass several opportuni- 
 ties for giving battle. In August he is at Smolensk, and his 
 sole thought is how to advance into Russia, although, as we 
 see now, this forward movement was certainly to be destruc- 
 tive to him. 
 
 The facts prove that Napoleon did not foresee the risk of 
 an advance upon Moscow, and that Alexander and the Rus- 
 sian generals had no idea at that time of decoying Napoleon, 
 but quite the contrary. 
 
 Napoleon's army was enticed into the heart of the country 
 not in accordance with any plan, for no one had seen even the 
 possibility of such a plan, but in consequence of the compli- 
 cated play of intrigues, desires, and ambitions of the men who 
 took part in this war and had no conception of what was 
 destined to be, or that . it would result in the only salvation 
 of Russia. 
 
 Everything proceeds in the most unexpected way. Our 
 armies are divided at the opening of the campaign. We try 
 to unite them with the evident aim of giving battle and check- 
 ing the invasion of the enemy, but in trying to effect this 
 union our troops avoid battle, because the enemy are stronger, 
 and. in our involuntary avoidance of them we form an acute 
 angle, and draw the French as far as Smolensk. But it is not 
 enough to say that we give way at an acute angle because the 
 French are moving between our two armies ; the angle grows 
 still more acute and we retreat still farther because Bagration 
 hates Barclay de Tolly,* an unpopular German. Bagration, 
 who is his superior officer and the commander of the other 
 army, endeavors as far as possible to delay the conjunction, in 
 order not to be under Barclay's orders. 
 
 Bagration long delays the union of the two armies though 
 this has been the chief object of all the Russian generals, 
 and he does so because he imagines that to make this march 
 would endanger his troops and that it is better for him to 
 draw off farther to the left and toward the south and harass 
 the enemy on the flank and in the rear, and recruit his army 
 in the Ukraina. 
 
 * Barclay de Tolly (1759-1818) was not German, but of the old Scotch 
 family of Barclay, a branch of which settled in Russia in the seventeenth 
 century.
 
 WAR AND PB.6CR. 109 
 
 But this was a mere pretext. He conceived this plan be- 
 cause he is anxious not to put himself under the command of 
 Barclay, the hated German, whose rank is inferior to his own. 
 
 The emperor is with the army to inspire it, but his presence, 
 and his tergiversation, the tremendous throng of advisers and 
 plans paralyze the energy of the army, and it beats a retreat. 
 
 The plan then is to make a stand in the camp at Drissa, but 
 suddenly Paulucci, who aims to be commander-in-chief, makes 
 such an impression upon Alexander by his energy, that 
 Pfuhl's whole plan is abandoned, and the task is confided to 
 Barclay. But, as Barclay is not able to instil confidence, his 
 power is limited. 
 
 The armies are separated ; there is no unity, no head : Bar- 
 clay is unpopular ; but all this confusion, division, and the 
 unpopularity of the German Commander-in-chief produce 
 irresolution and the evasion of an encounter with the enemy, 
 which would have been inevitable if the union of the armies 
 had been accomplished, and if Barclay had not been designated 
 as commander-in-chief, while on the other hand the same cir- 
 | 'cumstances continually increase the feeling against the Ger- 
 mans, and more and more arouse the spirit of patriotism. 
 
 Finally, the sovereign leaves the army under the sole and 
 
 most reasonable pretext that he is needed at Moscow and 
 
 i Petersburg to stir up the people and incite a national defence. 
 
 And the sovereign's journey to Moscow triples the strength of 
 
 the Russian troops. 
 
 The truth is, the sovereign leaves the army in order that he 
 may not interfere with the power of the commander-in-chief, 
 and hopes that more decisive measures will be taken. But 
 the position of the chief of the army grows more and more 
 confused and helpless. Benigsen, the Grand Duke, and a 
 whole swarm of general-adjutants remain 'in the army to 
 watch the actions of the commander-in-chief and to stimulate 
 him to energetic action; arid Barclay, feeling himself still less 
 free under the eyes of all these imperial censors, grows still 
 more cautious about undertaking any decided operation, and 
 carefully avoids a battle. 
 
 Barclay stands on his guard. The tsesarevitch hints at 
 treason and demands a general attack. Liubomirsky, Bran- 
 nitsky. Vlotzky, and others of their ilk, add so much to all 
 this tumult that Barclay, to rid himself of them, sends the 
 Polish gene?al-adjutaats to Fetefslarg with pretended mes- 
 sages ior the tsar, and enters into an open dispute witfc 
 the Grand Duke.
 
 110 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 At last, against the wishes of Bagration, the union of the 
 two armies is effected at Smolensk. 
 
 Bagration drives in his carriage to Barclay's headquarters. 
 Barclay puts on his scarf, comes out to meet him, and salutes 
 him as his superior in rank. Bagration, not to be outdone in- 
 magnanimity, places himself under Barclay's command, in 
 spite of his superiority of rank, but though he takes a sub- 
 ordinate position he is still more opposed to him. Bagration 
 by the sovereign's express order makes direct reports. He 
 writes to Arakcheyef : 4 
 
 " My sovereign's will be done, but I can never work with the minister 
 [Barclay!. For God's sake send me where you will, give me only a single 
 regiment to command, but I cannot stay here. Headquarters are full of 
 Germans, so that it is impossible for a Russian to breathe here, and there 
 is no sense in anything. I thought that I was serving the sovereign and 
 my country, but I am really serving Barclay. I confess this does not 
 suit me." 
 
 The swarm of Brannitskys, of Winzengerodes, and others 
 like them, still further poisons the relations between the two 
 chiefs, and united action becomes more and more impossible. 
 
 They get ready to attack the French at Smolensk. A gen- 
 eral is sent to inspect the position. This general, hating Bar- 
 clay, instead of obeying orders, goes to one of his friends, a 
 corps commander, remains with him all day, and returns at 
 night to Barclay, to criticise a field of battle which he has 
 not even seen. 
 
 While quarrels and intrigues concerning the battle-field are 
 in progress, while we are trying to find the French, because 
 we are ignorant of their whereabouts, the French encounter 
 Nevyerovsky's division, and approach the very walls of Smo- 
 lensk. 
 
 It is necessary 'to accept an unexpected battle at Smolensk 
 in order to save our communications. The battle takes place, 
 thousands of men on both sides are killed. 
 
 Contrary to the wishes of the sovereign and the people, 
 Smolensk is abandoned. But the inhabitants of Smolensk, 
 betrayed by their governor, set fire to the city, and, offering 
 this example to other Russian towns, take refuge in Moscow, 
 only deploring their losses and kindling hatred against the 
 enemy. 
 
 Napoleon advances ; we retreat, and the result is that the 
 very measure necessary for defeating Napoleon is employed.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. HI 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 ON the day following his son's departure, Prince Nikolai 
 Andreyitch summoned the Princess Mariya. 
 
 " There, now, are you satisfied ? " he demanded. " You 
 have involved me in a quarrel with my son ! Satisfied ? That 
 was what you wanted ! Satisfied ? This has been painful, 
 painful, to me. I am old and feeble, and this was what you 
 wished. Well, take your pleasure in it, take your pleasure in 
 it!" 
 
 And after that the Princess Mariya saw no more of her father 
 for a whole week. He was ill and did not leave his cabinet. 
 
 To her amazement, the princess noticed that during this ill- 
 ness the old prince did not permit even Mademoiselle Bourienne 
 to come near him. Only Tikhon was admitted. 
 
 At the end of the week, the prince came out and began to 
 lead his former life again, occupying himself with special zeal 
 in his buildings and garden, but discontinuing all his former 
 relations with Mademoiselle Bourienne. His looks and his 
 coolness toward the Princess Mariya seemed to say to her, 
 
 " Here, you see, you have lied about me, you have slandered 
 me to Prince Andrei in regard to my relations with this. 
 Frenchwoman, and you have made me quarrel with him ; but, 
 you see, I can get along without you or the Frenchwoman 
 either." 
 
 One-half of the day the Princess Mariya spent with Niko- 
 lushka, attending to his lessons ; she herself taught him Rus- 
 sian and music, and talked with Dessalles ; the remainder of 
 the day she spent with her books, her old nyanya, and her 
 " God's people," who sometimes came to see her clandestinely 
 by the back stairs. 
 
 The Princess Mariya had such thoughts about the war as 
 women generally have regarding war. She trembled for her 
 brother, who was in it ; she was horror-struck at the cruelty 
 which led men to slaughter each other, though she had little 
 comprehension of its reality ; but she did not appreciate the 
 significance of this particular war, which seemed to her ex- 
 actly like the wars that had preceded it. 
 
 She did not realize it, although Dessalles, with whom she 
 was constantly associated, followed its course with passionate 
 interest, and tried to explain what he felt about it ; and 
 although the " G-od's people " who came to see her brcaght to
 
 112 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 her the popular rumors about the invasion of Antichrist ; and 
 although Julie, now the Princess Drubetskaya, who had again 
 commenced to correspond with her, wrote her patriotic letters 
 from Moscow. 
 
 "I am going to write to you in Russian, pa Russki, my dear 
 friend." wrote Julie, " because I hate all the French, and their language 
 likewise. I cannot even bear to hear it spoken. Here in Moscow we are 
 all carried away by our enthusiasm for our idolized emperor. 
 
 " My poor husband is enduring hunger and privations at Jewish taverns; 
 but the tidings which I get from him still further excite me. 
 
 " You have undoubtedly heard of the heroic action of Rayevsky, who 
 embraced his two sons, saying, ' I will perish with them, but we will 
 never yield.' And, indeed, though the enemy was twice as strong as we 
 were, we did not yield. 
 
 '' We spend our time as best we can : during war, it must be as during 
 war. The Princess Alina and Sophie spend whole days with me, and we 
 wretched widows of living husbands, while ravelling lint, have good long 
 talks; only you, my dear, are absent." And so on. 
 
 The principal reason why the Princess Mariya did not real- 
 ize the whole significance of this war, was that the old prince 
 never said a word about it, never mentioned it, and, at dinner, 
 often laughed at Dessalles, who would grow eloquent over it. 
 The prince's tone was so calm and firm that the Princess 
 Mariya believed in him without question. 
 
 All through the month of July, the old prince was extraor- 
 dinarily active and energetic. He set out another new orchard, 
 and built a new building for the use of his household serfs. 
 The only thing that disquieted the Princess Mariya was that 
 he slept very little, and, relinquishing his ordinary habit of 
 sleeping in his cabinet, he each day changed his sleeping-room. 
 One time he gave orders to have his camp bedstead set up in 
 the gallery ; then he would try the sofa, or the Voltaire easy- 
 chair in the drawing-room, and doze without undressing, while 
 the lad Petrusha and not Mademoiselle Bourienne read 
 aloud to him : then, again, he would spend the night in the 
 dining-room.* 
 
 Early in August, he received a second letter from Prince 
 Andrei. In the first, which came soon after his departure for 
 the army, Prince Andrei humbly begged his father's pardon 
 for what he had permitted himself to say to him, and besought 
 him to restore him to favor. The old prince had replied to 
 this in an affectionate letter, and it was shortly after that he 
 gave up his intimacy with the Frenchwoman. 
 
 Prince Andrei's second letter, written from near Vitebsk, 
 * This was a characteristic of Napoleon at- St. Helena.
 
 WAR-A-ND PEACE. 113 
 
 after it had been captured by the French, contained a brief 
 account of the campaign, with the plan of it sketched out, and 
 also his ideas as to the ultimate issue of it. In the same let- 
 ter Prince Andrei represented to his father the inconvenience 
 of his position so near to'the theatre of the war, in the very line 
 of inarch of the armies, and urged him to go to Moscow. 
 
 At dinner that day, hearing Dessalles mentioning the rumor 
 that the French had already reached Vitebsk, the old prince 
 remembered his letter from Prince Andrei. 
 
 "Had a letter from Prince Andrei to-day,' 7 said he. 
 " Haven't you read it ? " 
 
 " Xo, man pere" replied the princess timidly. She could 
 not possibly have read the letter, as she did not even know 
 that one had been received. 
 
 " He writes me about this campaign," said the old prince, 
 with that scornful smile which had become habitual with him, 
 and which always accompanied any mention of the war then 
 in progress. 
 
 " It must be very interesting," said Dessalles. " The prince 
 is in a position to know " 
 
 "Ah, very interesting," interrupted Mademoiselle Bourienne. 
 
 "Go and fetch it to me," said the old prince to Mademoi- 
 selle Bourienne. " It's on the little table, you know, under 
 the paper-weight." 
 
 Mademoiselle Bourienne sprang away with eager haste. 
 
 "Oh, no," he cried, scowling; " do you go, Mikhail Ivan- 
 uitch." 
 
 Mikhail Ivanuitch got up and went into the cabinet. But, 
 as he did not immediately return with it, the old prince, un- 
 easily glancing around, threw down his napkin and went him- 
 self.' 
 
 " He won't be able to find it ; he'll upset everything." 
 
 While he was gone, the Princess Mariya, Dessalles, Mile. 
 Bourienne, and even Nikolushka silently exchanged glances. 
 The old prince came hurrying back, accompanied by Mikhail 
 Ivanuitch, and bringing the letter and a plan ; but instead of 
 letting them be read during the dinner time he placed them by 
 his side. 
 
 Passing into the drawing-room, he handed the letter to the 
 Princess Mariya and, spreading out the plan of the new build' 
 ing, he began to study it, but at the same time commanded the 
 Princess Mariya to read the letter aloud. After she had read 
 it, she looked inquiringly at her father. He was studying the 
 plan, apparently immersed in his thoughts. 
 VOL. 3. 8.
 
 114 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 "What do you think about this, prince?" asked Dessalles, 
 hazarding the question. 
 
 "I I ? " exclaimed the prince, as though being aroused to 
 some disagreeable reality, but still not taking his eyes from 
 the plan. 
 
 "It is quite possible that the theatre of the war may be 
 approaching us " 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! ha ! the theatre of war ! " exclaimed the prince. 
 "I have said, and I still say, that the theatre of the war is 
 in. Poland, and the enemy will never venture to cross the 
 Niemen." 
 
 Dessalles looked in amazement at the prince, who spoke of 
 the Niemen when the enemy was already at the Dnieper ; but 
 the Princess Mariya, who had forgotten the geographical posi- 
 tion of the Niemen, supposed that what her father said was 
 correct. 
 
 " As soon as the snow begins to thaw they will be swallowed 
 up in the swamps of Poland. Only they cannot see it," pur- 
 sued the old prince, evidently thinking of the campaign of 
 1807, which, as it seemed to liim, had not been so long ago. 
 " Benigsen ought to have marched into Prussia before this ; 
 then the affair would have taken another direction"- 
 
 "But, prince," timidly suggested Dessalles, "Vitebsk is 
 mentioned in the letter" 
 
 "Ah ! in the letter ! Yes " involuntarily exclaimed the 
 prince. "Yes yes" His face had suddenly assumed a 
 sour expression. He paused for a moment. " Yes, he writes 
 that the French were beaten near some river what was 
 it?" 
 
 Dessalles dropped his eyes. "The prince wrote nothing 
 about that," said he in a low tone. 
 
 "Didn't he, indeed ! Well, I certainly did not imagine it !" 
 
 A long silence ensued. 
 
 "Yes yes Well, Mikhail Ivanuitch ! " he suddenly 
 exclaimed, raising his head and pointing at the plan of the 
 new building. " Tell me how you propose to change this " 
 Mikhail Ivanuitch drew up to the table; and the prince, after 
 discussing the plan of the new edifice, left the room, casting 
 an angry glance on the Princess Mariya and Dessalles. 
 
 The princess noticed Dessalles's confused and wondering 
 look fastened on her father, remarked his silence, and was 
 dumfounded at her father having forgotten to take his son's 
 letter from the drawing-room table ; but she was afraid 
 to speak or to ask Dessalles the cause of his confusion
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 115 
 
 and silence, and she was afraid even to think what it 
 might be. 
 
 In the evening, Mikhail Ivanuitch was sent by the prince 
 for his son's letter, which had been forgotten in the drawing- 
 room. The Princess Mariya handed him the letter. And, 
 although it was a trying thing for her to do, she permitted 
 herself to ask him what her father was doing. 
 
 "He is always busy," replied Mikhail Ivanuitch, with a 
 polite but sarcastic smile that made the Princess Mariya turn 
 pale. " He is very much interested in the new building. He 
 has been reading a little, but just now," continued Mikhail 
 Ivanuitch, lowering his voice, " he is at his desk ; he must be 
 working over his ( will.' " 
 
 Latterly, one of the prince's favorite occupations had been 
 to arrange the papers which were to be left after his death, 
 and which he called his " will." 
 
 "And is he sending Alpatuitch to Smolensk?" asked the 
 Princess Mariya. 
 
 " He is ; he has been waiting for some time." 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 WHEN Mikhail Ivanuitch returned to the cabinet, he found 
 the prince sitting at his open bureau, with his spectacles on 
 and his eyes shaded by an abat-jour. He was reading by the 
 light of a shaded candle and with a peculiarly solemn expres- 
 sion, holding very far from his eyes the manuscript his 
 Remarki, he called it which he wished to have presented to 
 the sovereign after his death. 
 
 When Mikhail Ivanuitch came in, the old prince's eyes were 
 rilled with tears started by the recollection of the time when 
 he had written what he was now reading. He snatched the 
 letter from Mikhail Ivanuitch's hand, thrust it in his pocket, 
 replaced the manuscript, and summoned the long-waiting 
 Alpatuitch. 
 
 He held a sheet of paper on which was jotted down what he 
 wished to be done at Smolensk, and as he paced back and 
 forth through the room past the servant standing at the door, 
 he delivered his instructions. 
 
 " First, do you hear ? letter-paper like this specimen, 
 gilt-edged here's the pattern so as not to make any mis- 
 take ; varnish ; sealing-wax " following Mikhail Ivan- 
 uitch's memorandum.
 
 116 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 He paced up and down the room, and kept glancing at the 
 memorandum of purchases. 
 
 "Then be sure to give this letter about the deed to the 
 governor in person." 
 
 Then he laid special stress on getting the bolts for his new 
 edifice, which must be of a special pattern invented by him- 
 self. Then a folio was wanted for holding his "will." It 
 took more than two hours to charge Alpatuitch with all the 
 commissions, and still the prince did not let him go. He sat 
 dowiij tried to think, and, closing his eyes, fell into a doze. 
 Alpatuitch stirred uneasily. 
 
 " Well, get you gone ! get you gone ! if I need anything 
 more I will send for you." 
 
 Alpatuitch left the room. The prince went to the bureau 
 again, glanced into it, touched the papers with his hand, 
 closed it again, and, going to his table, sat down to write his 
 note to the governor. 
 
 It was already late when, having sealed the letter, he got up. 
 He wanted to go to bed, but he knew that he should not 
 sleep, and that the most miserable thoughts would haunt him 
 as soon as he lay down. He rang for Tikhon, and went with 
 him through the rooms, so as to select the place where to set 
 the bed for the night. He went about measuring every corner. 
 
 There w'as no place that seemed to please him, but anything 
 was better than his usual sofa in his cabinet. This divan was 
 terrible to him, apparently on account of the trying thoughts 
 which passed through his mind as he lay upon it. There was 
 no place that satisfied him, but he was best of all pleased with 
 the corner in the divan-room behind the piano-forte ; he had 
 never before slept there. 
 
 Tikhon and a man servant brought in the bedstead, and 
 began to make the bed. 
 
 " Not that way ! Not that way ! " cried the prince, and 
 with his own hand he pushed it an inch or two farther away 
 from the corner, and then nearer again. 
 
 " Well, at last, I have done everything ; let me rest," 
 thought the prince, and he commanded Tikhon to undress him. 
 
 Painfully scowling at the effort required to take off hi 
 kaftan and pantaloons, the prince at last got undressed, and 
 let himself drop heavily on his bed. and then seemed lost ii> 
 thought as he gazed scornfully at his yellow, shrivelled legs. 
 Thought, however, was absent ; he was merely sluggish about 
 undertaking the labor of lifting those same legs and getting 
 them into bed. " Okh ! wha'5 trial ! Okh ! why must the
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 117 
 
 end he so slow in coming ! Why can't you leave me. in 
 peace ? " he said to himself. Screwing up his lips, he, for the 
 twenty-thousandth time, made the effort, and then lay down. 
 But he was scarcely on his back before the whole bed sud- 
 denly began, with slow and regular motion, to rock backward 
 and forward, as though it were heavily breathing and tossing. 
 This thing happened to him almost every night. He opened 
 Ins eyes, which he had just closed. 
 
 " No repose ! Curse it ! " he exclaimed, full of fury against 
 something. " Yes, yes ! there must have been something else 
 of importance, of very great importance, which I kept till I 
 should go to bed. Was it the bolts ? No, I told him about 
 that. No, it was something that happened in the drawing- 
 room. The Princess Mariya had some nonsense to repeat. 
 Dessalles that idiot! made some remark.- There was 
 something in my pocket ! I can't remember. Tishka ! what 
 were we talking about at dinner time ? " 
 
 " About Prince Mikhail " 
 
 " Hold your tongue ! " 
 
 The prince thumped his hand on the table. "Now, I know 
 it was Prince Andrei's letter. The Princess Mariya read it 
 aloud. Dessalles said something about Vitebsk. Now, I will 
 read it." 
 
 He bade Tikhon fetch him the letter from his pocket, and 
 place a small table near the bed, with his lemonade and a wax 
 taper, and, putting on his spectacles, he began to read. There 
 only, as he read the letter, in the silence of the night, by the 
 feeble light of the candle under the green shade, he for the 
 first time for a moment took in its full significance. 
 
 "The French at Vitebsk! in four marches they can reach 
 Smolensk ; maybe they are there now. Tishka ! " Tikhon 
 sprang forward. " No matter ! Nothing ! nothing ! " he 
 cried. 
 
 He slipped the letter under the candle-stick, and closed his 
 eyes. 
 
 And there arose before him the Danube, a brilliant noon- 
 day, the rushes, the Russian camp and himself, a young 
 general with not a single wrinkle on his face : hale and hearty, 
 gay and ruddy, going into Potemkin's bright-colored tent, and 
 the burning feeling of hatred against the " favorite " stirs in him 
 now as violently as it did even then. And he recalls all the 
 words which were spoken at his first interview with Potem- 
 kin. And his fancy brings up before him again a stout, short 
 woman, with a fat, sallow face, matushka-imperatritsa,
 
 118 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 the little mother empress, her smile, her words of flattery, 
 when she for the first time gave him audience, and he remem- 
 bers her face as it appeared on the catafalque, and then the 
 quarrel with Zubof, which took place over her coffin, over the 
 right to approach her hand. 
 
 " Akh ! would that those old times could return, and that 
 the present would all come to an end soon soon that I 
 might' at last find rest ! " 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 LUISIYA GORUI, Prince Nikolai Andreyitch Bolkonsky's 
 estate, was situated about sixty versts from Smolensk and 
 three versts from the Moscow highway. 
 
 That evening, while the prince was giving Alpatuitch his 
 commissions, Dessalles asked for a few moments' talk with the 
 Princess Mariya, and told her that as the prince, her father, 
 was not very well, and refused to adopt any measures for their 
 safety, while from Prince Andrei's letter it was evident that 
 to remain at Luisiya Gorui was not unattended with danger, 
 he respectfully advised her to send a letter by Alpatuitch to 
 the nachalnik of the government at Smolensk, asking him 
 to let her know the real state of affairs, and the measure oi 
 danger to which Luisiya Gorui was exposed. 
 
 Dessalles wrote the letter for her to the governor, and she 
 signed it, and it was put into Alpatuitch's hands with strict 
 injunctions to hand it to the governor, and in case the danger 
 were urgent to return as soon as possible. 
 
 Having received all his instructions, Alpatuitch, in a white 
 beaver hat, a gift of the prince's, with a cudgel, exactly 
 like that carried by the prince, went, escorted by all the ser- 
 vants, to get into the leather-covered kibitka, to which a 
 troika of fat, roan steeds had been attached. 
 
 The duga-bell was tied up, and the little harness bells were 
 stuffed with paper. The prince .would not allow bells to be 
 used at Luisiya Gorui. But Alpatuitch liked the sounds of 
 them on a long journey. His fellow servants, the zemsky 
 or communal scribe, the house clerk, the pastry cook, and | 
 the scullery maid, two old women, a young groom, the coach- i 
 man, and a number of other household serfs, accompanied i 
 him. 
 
 His daughter stuffed back of the seat and under it some 
 down cushions covered with chintz. His wife's sister, an old
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 119 
 
 woman, stealthily thrust in a small bundle. One of the 
 coachmen helped him to get to his place. 
 
 " Well, well ! woman's fussiness ! Oh ! women, women ! " 
 he exclaimed, puffing and speaking in the same short, hurried 
 way as the old prince did; and he took his place in the 
 kibitka. Having given his last orders to the zemsky in regard 
 to the work, Alpatuitch removed his hat from his bald head 
 and crossed himself thrice and in this respect he certainly 
 did not imitate the prince. 
 
 "If anything should you you will hurry back, Yakof 
 Alpatuitch ; for Christ's sake, have pity on us ! " screamed his 
 wife, with a covert reference to the rumors of the war and the 
 enemy. 
 
 " Oh, women, women ! women's fussiness ! " growled Alpa- 
 tuitch to himself, and he rode away, glancing around him at 
 the fields, some of which were covered with yellowing rye, 
 others with thick crops of oats still green, others where the men 
 were just beginning to do the second ploughing. He rode on, 
 admiring the summer wheat, which gave an unusually abun- 
 dant crop that year ; then he gazed with delight at the rye- 
 fields, where the reapers were already beginning to work, and 
 he made mental calculations as to future sowing and gathering 
 of crops, and wondered if he had forgotten any of the prince's 
 commissions. 
 
 Having stopped twice on the road to bait his horses, Alpa- 
 tuitch, on the sixteenth of August, reached the city. 
 
 On the way he met and passed wagon trains and detach- 
 ments of troops. As he approached Smolensk, he heard the 
 sounds of distant firing, but these reports did not surprise 
 him. He was more surprised than at anything else to see, in 
 the vicinity of the city, tents pitched in the midst of a mag- 
 nificent field of oats, which some soldiers were mowing appar- 
 ently for the sake of fodder ; this circumstance surprised 
 Alpatuitch, but it quickly slipped his mind, which was ab- 
 sorbed in his own business. 
 
 All the interests of Alpatuitch's life had been for more than 
 thirty years confined to fulfilling the prince's wishes, and he 
 had never taken a step outside of this narrow circle. Every- 
 thing that did not appertain to carrying out the prince's 
 directions did not interest him, and might be said not even to 
 exist for Alpatuitch. 
 
 Arriving on the evening of August sixteenth at Smolensk, 
 Alpatuitch put up at an inn, kept by the dvornik Ferapontof, 
 across the Dnieper, in the Gachensky suburb, where he had
 
 120 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 been in the habit of making his headquarters for the past 
 thirty years. Ferapontof, thirty years before, had, with the 
 connivance of Alpatuitch, bought a piece of woodland of the 
 prince, and begun to trade, and now he had a home of his 
 own, a tavern, and a grain shop. Ferapontof was a stout, dark- 
 complexioned, good-looking muzhik of middle age, with thick 
 lips, with a thick nobbed nose, and with knobs over his black, 
 scowling brows, and with a portly belly. 
 
 Ferapontof was standing at the street door of his shop, in 
 his colored chintz shirt and waistcoat. Catching sight of 
 Alpatuitch, he came out to meet him. 
 
 "Welcome, Yakof Alpatuitch. The people are leaving 
 town, and here you are coming to town ! " exclaimed the land- 
 lord. 
 
 " What do you mean ? Leaving town ? " asked Alpatuitch. 
 
 " I mean what I say. The people are fools. They're all 
 afraid of a Frenchman ! " 
 
 " Woman's chatter ! woman's chatter ! " grumbled Alpa- 
 tuitch. 
 
 " That's my opinion, Yakof Alpatuitch. I tell 'em there's 
 orders not to let him in ; so, of course, he won't get in. And 
 yet those muzhiks ask three rubles for a horse and cart. 
 That isn't Christian of 'em ! " 
 
 Yakof Alpatuitch paid little attention to what he said. He 
 asked for a samovar and some hay for his horses, and, after 
 he had sipped his tea, he went to bed. 
 
 All night long the troops went tramping by the tavern' 
 along the street. The next morning Alpatuitch put on his 
 kamzol, which he always wore only in town, and set forth to 
 do his errands. The morning was sunny, and at eight o'clock 
 it was already hot. " A fine day for the wheat harvest," 
 Alpatuitch said to himself. Beyond the city the sounds of 
 firing had been audible since early morning. About eight 
 o'clock a heavy cannonading made itself heard in addition to 
 the musketry. 
 
 The streets were crowded with people hurrying to and fro ; 
 there were throngs of soldiery ; but, just as usual, izvoshchiks 
 were driving about, merchants were standing at their shop 
 doors, and the morning service was going on in the churches. 
 
 Alpatuitch did his errands at the shops, at the government 
 offices, at the post-office, and at the governor's. At the gov- 
 ernment offices, at the shops, at the post-office, everywhere, 
 every one was talking of the war and the enemy, who was 
 even now making his descent upon the city. Every one was
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 121 
 
 asking every one else what was to be done, and every one 
 was trying to re-assure every one else. 
 
 At the governor's house, Alpatuitch found a great throng of 
 people, Cossacks, and a travelling carriage belonging to the 
 governor. On the doorstep Yakof Alpatuitch met t\vo of the 
 local gentry, one of whom he knew. The nobleman whom he 
 knew, a former ispravnik, or district captain of police, was 
 talking with some heat. 
 
 " But I tell you this is no joke ! " he was saying. " It's very 
 well for a man who is alone. One can endure to be single and 
 poor ; but to have thirteen in your family, and your whole 
 property at stake ! What do the authorities amount to if 
 they let such things come on us ? Ekh ! they ought to hang 
 such cut-throats " 
 
 " There, there ! calm yourself ! " said the other. 
 
 " What difference does it make to me ; let them hear ! 
 Why, we are not dogs ! " said the ex-ispravnik, and, looking 
 round, he caught sight of Alpatuitch. " Ah ! Yakof Alpa- 
 tuitch, what brings you here ? " 
 
 "On an errand from his illustriousness to the governor," 
 replied Alpatuitch, proudly lifting his head, and placing his 
 hand in the breast of his coat which he always did when he 
 remembered the prince. " He sent me to ascertain the posi- 
 tion of affairs," said he. 
 
 " Well, then, ' ascertain it," cried the proprietor. " Not a 
 cart to be had nothing ! There, do you hear that ? " he 
 exclaimed, calling their attention to the direction in which the 
 firing could be heard. "That's the pass they've brought us 
 to ! ruining us all the cut-throats ! " he muttered again, and 
 turned down the steps. 
 
 Alpatuitch shook his head, and went upstairs. In the 
 reception room were merchants, women, chinovniks, silently 
 exchanging glances. The door into the governor's cabinet was 
 opened, and all stood up and crowded forward. Out of the 
 room hurried a chinovnik, exchanged some words with a mer- 
 chant, beckoned to a stout chinovnik, with a cross around his 
 neck, to follow him, and again disappeared behind the door, 
 evidently avoiding all the glances and questions that followed 
 him. 
 
 Alpatuitch pressed forward, and, when the chinovnik came 
 out again, placing his hand under the breast of his overcoat, he 
 addressed the official, and handed him the two letters. 
 
 " For the Baron Asche, from General-in-Chief Prince Bolkon- 
 sky," he said, so solemnly and significantly that the c
 
 122 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 turned round to him and took the letters. At the end of a 
 few moments the governor summoned Alpatuitch, and said to 
 him hurriedly : 
 
 " Inform the prince and the princess that I know nothing 
 about it at all. I have been acting in accordance with supe- 
 rior instructions. Here ! " 
 
 He gave a paper to Alpatuitch. 
 
 " However, as the prince is ailing, my advice to him is to 
 go to Moscow. I am going there myself immediately. Tell 
 him." 
 
 But the governor did not finish his sentence ; an officer, 
 breathless and covered with sweat came rushing in, and hur- 
 riedly said something in French. An expression of horror 
 crossed the governor's face. 
 
 " Go," said he, nodding to Alpatuitch ; and then he began 
 to ply the officer with questions. Pitiful, frightened, helpless 
 glances followed Alpatuitch as he came out of the governor's 
 cabinet. Involuntarily listening now to the cannonading, con- 
 stantly growing nearer and more violent, Alpatuitch hastened 
 back to the inn. 
 
 The paper which the governor had given him was as fol- 
 lows : 
 
 " I assure you that the city of Smolensk is not in the slightest danger, 
 and it is entirely unlikely that it will be exposed to any. I, on the one 
 hand, and Prince Bagration, on the other, shall effect a junction before 
 Smolensk; and this will take place on the 22d instant, and the two 
 armies, with united forces, will defend their fellow-countrymen of the 
 government committed to your charge, until their efforts shall have 
 driven away the foes of the fatherland, or until the last warrior shall 
 have perished from their gallant ranks. You will see from this that you 
 have a perfect right to calm the inhabitants of Smolensk, since any one 
 defended by two such brave armies may well be confident that victory 
 will be theirs." (Order of the day, from Barclay de Tolly to Baron 
 Asche, the civil governor of Smolensk, 1812.) 
 
 The inhabitants were roaming anxiously about the streets. 
 
 Teams, loaded to repletion with domestic utensils, chairs, 
 clothes-presses, and furniture of every description, were com- 
 ing out of the courtyard-gates of the houses and proceeding 
 along the streets. At the house next Ferapontof's stood a 
 number of teams, and the women were bidding each other 
 good-by, and exchanging parting gossip. The house-dog was 
 barking and frisking around the heads of the horses. 
 
 Alpatuitch, with a brisker gait than he usually took, went 
 into the courtyard and proceeded directly to the barn where his 
 team and horses were. The coachman was asleep : he aroused
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 123 
 
 him, told him to hitch up, and went into the house. In the 
 landlord's room were heard the wailing of a child, the broken 
 sobs of a woman, and Ferapontof's furious, harsh tones. The 
 cook, fluttering about the bar-room like a frightened hen, cried 
 as soon as she saw Alpatuitch : " He's been beating her to 
 death been beating the missis ! He just beat her, and 
 dragged her round ! " 
 
 " What made him do it ? " asked Alpatuitch. 
 
 " She begged him to go ! Just like a woman ! ( Take us 
 away,' says she, ' don't let 'em kill me and the little ones ; 
 everybody,' says she, ' 's going, and why,' says she, < shouldn't 
 we go too ? ' And so he began to beat her. He just threshed 
 her and dragged her round ! " 
 
 Alpatuitch nodded, his head as though he approved, and, 
 iaot caring to hear any more about it, went to the room where 
 his purchases had been left. It was opposite the landlord's 
 family room. 
 
 " You villain, you wretch ! " at this moment cried a thin, 
 pale woman, with a baby in her arms, and with a torn ker- 
 chief on her head, who came rushing out of that room, and 
 flew downstairs into the court. 
 
 Ferapontof came out behind her, and when he saw Alpa- 
 tuitch, he pulled down his waistcoat, smoothed his hair, and 
 followed Alpatuitch into the room. 
 
 " And so you are going so soon ? " he asked. 
 
 Not paying any attention to this question, and not looking 
 at the landlord, Alpatuitch, after making a bundle of his pur- 
 chases, asked how much he should pay for the accommodation. 
 
 u We will settle that by and by. How was it at the gov- 
 ernor's ? " asked Ferapontof. " What was the talk there ? " 
 
 Alpatuitch replied that the governor had not said anything 
 very decisive to him. 
 
 " How can we possibly get away with our things ? Why, 
 they ask seven rubles to go to . Dorogobuzh ! And I tell you 
 there's mighty little Christianity about them!" said he. 
 " Selivanof made a good thing Thursday, sold some flour to the 
 army at nine rubles a sack. Say, will you have some tea ? " 
 he added. 
 
 While the horses were being put to, Alpatuitch and Fera- 
 pontof sipped their tea and talked about the price of wheat, 
 about the crops, and the splendid weather for harvest. 
 
 "Well, it seems to be calming down a little," said Ferapon- 
 tof, getting up after his three cups of tea. " Ours must have 
 had the best of it. They told us they would not let 'eni in.
 
 124 WAR A.\D l-bAC-E. 
 
 Of course we'ie strong enough. They say Matvyei Ivanuitch 
 Platof drove eighteen thousand of 'em into the Marina t'other 
 day and drowned 'em all." 
 
 Alpatuitch picked up his purchases and gave them to the 
 coachman, who came in ; then he settled his account with the 
 landlord. The sound of carriage wheels was heard outside the 
 door, the trampling of the horses, and the jingling of bells, as 
 the kibitka drove up. It was by this time long into the after- 
 noon. One side of the street was in shadow j the other was 
 brightly lighted by the sun. Alpatuitch glanced out of 
 the window, and went to the door. Suddenly he heard the 
 strange sound of a distant whizzing, and a dull thud, immedi- 
 ately followed by the long reverberating roar of a cannon 
 which made the windows rattle. 
 
 Alpatuitch went out into the street; a couple of men were, 
 running down toward the bridge. In various directions could 
 be heard the whistling and crashing of round shot, and the 
 bursting of bomb-shells falling into the city. But these sounds 
 attracted little attention among the citizens compared with 
 the roar of the cannonading heard beyond the city. This was 
 the bombardment which Napoleon commanded to be opened 
 at five o'clock, from one hundred and thirty cannon. The 
 people at first did not realize the significance of this bombard- 
 ment. The crash of falling shells and cannon-balls at first 
 wakened only a sort of curiosity. Ferapontof's wife, who had 
 been steadily wailing and weeping in the barn, dried her tears 
 and came out to the gates with her baby in her arms, and 
 gazed silently at the people and listened to the noise. 
 
 The cook and the shop-tender came down to the gates. All 
 looked with eager curiosity at the projectiles flying over their 
 heads. Around the corner came several men, talking with 
 great animation. 
 
 " What force there was ! " one was saying. " Smashed the 
 roof and the ceiling all into kindling-wood." 
 
 "And it ploughed up the ground just like a hog!" said 
 another. 
 
 " It was a good shot ! Lively work ! " said he, with a 
 laugh. 
 
 "You had to look out mighty sharp and jump, else 'twould 
 have smeared you ! " 
 
 The people gathered round the new-comers. They stopped 
 and told how shots had been falling into a house near them. 
 Meantime, other projectiles, round shot, with a not disagreeable 
 whistling, and shells, with a swift, melancholy hissing, kept fly
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 125 
 
 ing over the heads of the people. But not a single projectile 
 fell near them ; all flew over and beyond. Alpatuitch took 
 his seat in his kibitka. The landlord was standing at his 
 gates. " You are showing too much ! " he cried to the cook, 
 who, with sleeves rolled up above her bare elbows, had gone, , 
 holding up her red petticoat, down to the corner to hear the 
 news. "But it was miraculous," she was just saying, but 
 when she heard the sound of the landlord's voice she turned 
 round and let her petticoat drop. 
 
 Once more, but very near this time, came something with 
 a whistling sound, like a bird flying toward the ground ; there 
 was a flash of fire in the middle of the street, a loud, stunning 
 crash, and the street was filled with smoke. 
 
 " You rascal, what did you do that for ? " cried the land- 
 lord, rushing down to the cook. At the same instant, the 
 pitiful screaming of women was heard on various sides ; a 
 child wailed in terror, and the people gathered in silence with 
 pale faces round the cook. Above all other sounds were heard 
 the groans and exclamations of the cook. 
 
 " Oi-o-okh ! my darlings ! my poor darlings ! Don't let them 
 kill me ! My poor darlings ! " 
 
 Five minutes later, not a soul was left in the street. The 
 cook, whose thigh had been broken by a fragment of the 
 bomb, was carried into the kitchen. Alpatuitch, his coach- 
 man, and Ferapontofs wife and children and the hostler, were 
 cowering in the cellar, with ears alert. The roar of cannon, 
 the whistle of projectiles, and the pitiful groans of the cook, 
 which overmastered all else, ceased not for a single instant. 
 The landlord's wife rocked and crooned her infant at one 
 moment, and at the next she would ask in a terrified whisper 
 of all who came down into the cellar where her husband, who 
 had remained in the street, was. 
 
 The shop-tender came down into the cellar, and reported 
 that her husband had gone with the crowd to the cathedral to 
 get the wonder-working ikon of Smolensk. 
 
 Toward twilight, the cannonade began to grow less violent. 
 Alpatuitch went out of the cellar and stood in the doorway. 
 The evening sky, which before had been cloudless, was now 
 shrouded in smoke. And through this smoke strangely shone 
 the sickle of the young moon high in the west. After the 
 cessation of the terrible roar of the cannon, silence fell upon 
 the city, broken only by what seemed to be a constantly in- 
 creasing rumble of hurrying steps, groans, distant shouts, and 
 the crackling of flames. The cook's groaning had ceased. In
 
 126 WAK AND PEACK. 
 
 two different directions, volumes of black smoke arose from 
 the conflagrations and spread over the city. Soldiers in vari- 
 ous uniforms, mixed all in together, no longer in orderly ranks, 
 but like ants from a demolished ant-hill, came running and 
 walking from various directions down the street. It seemed 
 to Alpatuitch that some of them were making for Ferapontof 's 
 tavern. Alpatuitch went down to the gates. A regiment 
 marching in serried ranks and hurrying along blocked the 
 street from side to side. 
 
 " The city is surrendered ! Off with you ! off with you ! " 
 cried an officer who noticed him, and then he turned to his 
 soldiers : " I tell you, keep out of the yards," he cried. 
 . Alpatuitch went back to the tavern, and, summoning the 
 coachman, bade him start away. Alpatuitch and the coach- 
 man were followed by all Ferapontof's household. When 
 they saw the smoke and the yellow tongues of the fire, which 
 now began to shine out in the gathering gloom, the women, till 
 now perfectly silent, suddenly unloosed their tongues as they 
 looked toward the city, and broke out into what seemed like 
 an echo of the lamentations that were to be heard at the other 
 end of the street. Alpatuitch and the coachman, with trem- 
 bling hands, straightened the entangled reins and traces under 
 the shed. 
 
 As Alpatuitch drove out of the gates, he saw half a score of 
 soldiers in Ferapontof's open shop, with loud discussion, en- 
 gaged in filling bags and knapsacks with wheaten flour and 
 sunflower seeds. Just at that time, Ferapontof himself hap- 
 pened to come into his shop from the street. When he saw 
 the soldiers, he started to give them some abuse, but suddenly 
 paused, and, clutching his hair, he broke out into laughter that 
 was like a lamentation. 
 
 " Take it all, boys. Don't leave any for those devils," he 
 cried, grasping the bags himself, and helping to fling them out 
 into the street. Some of the soldiers, frightened, ran away ; 
 others still continued to fill their sacks. Seeing Alpatuitch, 
 Ferapontof called to him, 
 
 "It's all up with Roosha," * he shouted. "Alpatuitch, it's 
 all up with us ! I myself helped set the fires. All ruined ! " 
 
 Ferapontof started into the courtyard. The passing regi- 
 ments so completely blocked the street that Alpatuitch could 
 not make his way along, and he had to wait. Ferapontof's 
 wife and family were also seated in their telyega, waiting also 
 for a chance to get away. 
 
 * He calls it Rasseya, instead of Rossiya.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 127 
 
 ' It was now well into the evening. The sky was studded 
 with stars, and occasionally the young moon gleamed out from 
 behind the billows of smoke. On the slope down toward the 
 Dnieper, the teams of Alpatuitch and the landlord, which had 
 at last been slowly advancing amid the ranks of soldiery and 
 other equipages, were obliged to halt. A short distance from the 
 cross-roads where the teams had halted, a house and some shops 
 were burning on the side street. The lire was burning itself 
 out. The flame would die down and lose itself in black smoke, 
 then suddenly flash forth brilliantly again, bringing out with 
 strange distinctness the faces of the spectators standing on 
 the cross-roads. In front of the fire, the dark forms of men 
 were darting to arid fro, and above the still audible crackling 
 of the fire were heard shouts and cries. Alpatuitch, dismount- 
 ing from his kibitka, as he saw that he should not be able to 
 proceed for some time yet, walked down the cross-street to 
 look at the conflagration. Soldiers were constantly busying 
 themselves with the fire, passing back and forth, and Alpa- 
 tuitch saw two soldiers, in company with another man in a 
 frieze coat, dragging from the fire some burning lumber across 
 the street into the next dvor ; others were adding fagots of 
 straw. 
 
 Alpatuitch joined the great throng of people who were stand- 
 ing in front of a tall warehouse that was one mass of roaring 
 flames. The walls were all on fire, the rear had fallen in, the 
 timbered roof was giving way, the girders were blazing. The 
 throng were evidently waiting for the roof to cave in. At all 
 events, that was what Alpatuitch was waiting for. 
 
 "Alpatuitch!" A well-known voice suddenly called the 
 old man by name. " Batyushka ! your Illustriousness ! " re- 
 plied Alpatuitch, instantly recognizing the voice of his young 
 prince. 
 
 Prince Andrei, in a riding-cloak, and mounted on a black 
 horse, was stationed beyond the crowd and looking straight at 
 Alpatuitch. 
 
 " How come you here ? " he asked. 
 
 " Your your Illustriousness," stammered Alpatuitch, and 
 he sobbed. " Your your I I is are we lost ? Your 
 father" 
 
 " How come you here ? " demanded Prince Andrei a second 
 time. 
 
 The flame blazed out again at that moment and revealed to 
 Alpatuitch his young barin's pale, weary face. Alpatuitch 
 told how he had been sent and what difficulty he had met with
 
 128 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 in getting out of town. " But tell me, your Illustriousness, 
 are we really lost ? " he asked once more. 
 
 Prince Andrei, without replying, drew out a note-book, and, 
 spreading it on his knee, hastily pencilled a few lines on a 
 torn leaf. He wrote his sister : 
 
 "Smolensk is abandoned; Luisiya Gorui will be occupied by the 
 enemy inside of a week. Go immediately to Moscow. Send me word as 
 soon as you start, by an express to Usviazh." 
 
 Having written this note and handed it to Alpatuitch, he 
 was giving him some verbal instructions about the arrange- 
 ments for the journey of the prince and princess and his son 
 and the tutor, and how and where to communicate with him 
 immediately. He had not had time to finish these instructions 
 when a mounted staff nachalnik accompanied by a suite came 
 galloping up to him. 
 
 " You, a colonel ? " cried the staff nachalnik in a German 
 accent and a voice that Prince Andrei instantly recognized. 
 " In your very presence they are setting houses on fire, and 
 you allow it ? What is the meaning of this ? You shall 
 answer for it ! " 
 
 This was Berg, who now had the position of deputy chief 
 of staff to the deputy chief of staff of the nachalnik of the 
 infantry corps of the left flank of the first division of the 
 army a place that was very agreeable and " in sight " as 
 Berg expressed it. 
 
 Prince Andrei glanced at him, and, without replying, went 
 on with his instructions to Alpatuitch : 
 
 " Tell them that I shall expect an answer by the twenty- 
 second, and that if by that time I do not get word that they 
 have all gone, I myself shall be obliged to throw up every- 
 thing and go to Luisiya Gorui." 
 
 "I prince, I only spoke as I did," explained Berg, as soon 
 as he recognized Prince Andrei, "because, because it is my 
 duty to carry out my orders, and I am always very scrupulous 
 in carrying them out. I beg you to excuse me," said Berg, 
 trying to apologize. 
 
 There was a crash in the burning building. The fire for an 
 instant died down ; volumes of black smoke rolled up from 
 the roof. Again there was a strange crashing sound, and the 
 huge building fell in. 
 
 " Urroorooroo ! " yelled the throng, with a roar rivalling that 
 of the fallen grain-house, from which now came an odor like 
 hot cakes, caused by the burning flour. The flames darted up
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 129 
 
 and sent a bright reflection over the throng standing around 
 the fire with gleefully excited or exhausted faces. 
 
 The man in the frieze coat waved his arm and cried, " Well 
 done ! she draws well now ! Well done, boys ! " 
 
 "That's the owner himself," various voices were heard 
 saying. 
 
 " So then," said Prince Andrei, addressing Alpatuitch, " give 
 the message just as I have told you," and, not vouchsafing a 
 single word to Berg, who still stood near dumb with amaze- 
 ment, he set spurs to his horse and rode down the side street. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE armies continued to retreat from Smolensk. The 
 enemy followed. On the twenty-second of August the regi- 
 ment which Prince Andrei commanded was moving along the 
 high-road past the "prospekt" which led to Luisiya Gorui. 
 
 For. more than three weeks there had been a hot spell and 
 drought. Each day cirrous clouds moved across the sky and 
 occasionally veiled the sun ; but by evening the heavens were 
 clear again, and the sun set in brownish purple haze. The only 
 refreshing that the earth got was from the heavy dew at night. 
 The standing crops of wheat were parched, and wasted their 
 seed. The marshes shrunk away. The cattle bellowed from 
 hunger, finding no grass along the ponds, which were dried 
 away in the sun. Only at night and in the depths of the forest, 
 while still the dew lay cool and wet, was there any freshness. 
 
 But on the roads, on the high-road where the troops were 
 marching, even at night, even in the shelter of the forests, this 
 coolness was not to be found. The dew was imperceptible on 
 the sandy dust, which was more than four inches deep. 
 
 At the first ray of dawn the troops were set in motion. The 
 baggage train and the field-pieces ploughed along noiselessly, 
 sinking almost up to the hubs of the wheels, and the infantry 
 struggled through the soft, stifling, heated dust that settled 
 not even at night. One part of this sandy dust impeded feet 
 and wheels; the other arose in the air and hovered like a 
 cloud over the troops, filling eyes, hair, ears, and nostrils, and 
 above all the lungs, of men and beasts alike as they moved 
 slowly along this highway. The higher the sun rose, the higher 
 rose this cloud of dust ; and though the sky was cloudless, the 
 naked eye could endure to look at the sun through this curtain 
 of fine hot dust. 
 VOL. 3. 9,
 
 130 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 The sun looked like a purple ball. There was not a breath 
 of air stirring, and the men suffocated in the motionless atmos- 
 phere. They tramped along, covering their noses and mouths 
 with handkerchiefs. If they reached a village, they rushed 
 pell-mell for the wells. They fought for water, and drank it 
 every drop till .nothing but mud was left. 
 
 Prince Andrei was the commander of the regiment, and he 
 was deeply concerned in its organization and the well-being 
 of the men, and the carrying-out of the indispensable orders 
 which had to be given and received. The burning of Smo- 
 lensk and its abandonment marked an epoch in his life. The 
 first feeling of hatred against the enemy made him forget his 
 own personal sorrow. He devoted himself exclusively to the 
 affairs of his command ; he was indefatigable in the service- 
 of his men and his subordinate officers, and treated them more 
 than courteously. In the regiment they all called him " our 
 prince," they were proud of him and loved him. 
 
 But his kindness and affability were only for his own men 
 Timokhin and the like, men who were perfect strangers to him 
 and his life, men who could not know him or recall his past ; 
 the moment he fell in with any one of his former acquaintances, 
 his fellow staff officers, he immediately became all bristles ; he 
 grew fierce, sarcastic, and scornful. Everything that served 
 as a connection with the past revolted him, and consequently 
 all he did so far as this former life was concerned was simply 
 to try not to be unjust and to do his duty. 
 
 It is true, everything appeared to Prince Andrei gloomy and 
 even desperate, especially after the eighteenth of August, and 
 the abandonment of Smolensk, which in his opinion might 
 and should have been defended, and after his ailing father 
 had been forced to fly to Moscow, and consign to spoliation 
 his too well beloved Luisiya Gorui, which he had taken such 
 infinite pains to cultivate and settle ; but, in spite of this, 
 thanks to Prince Andrei's occupation with his regiment, he 
 could let his mind be engrossed with other thoughts, entirely 
 disconnected with the general course of events ; namely, his 
 regiment. 
 
 On the twenty-second of August the column of which his 
 regiment formed a part was opposite Luisiya Gorui. Prince 
 Andrei, two days before, had received word that his father, 
 his little son, and his sister had gone to Moscow. Although 
 there was nothing to call him to Luisiya Gorui, he determined 
 that it was his duty to go there, feeling a peculiar morbid 
 desire to enjoy the bitterness of his grief.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 131 
 
 He ordered his horse to be saddled, and started off to ride 
 to the estate where he had been born and had spent his child- 
 hood. 
 
 As he rode by the pond, where generally there were a dozen 
 chattering women beating and rinsing their linens, Prince 
 Andrei noticed that it was deserted, and the little float had 
 drifted out into the middle of the pond, and was tipped over 
 and half full of water. Prince Andrei rode up to the gate- 
 keeper's lodge ; but there was no one near the stone gate-way, 
 and the door was unlocked. The garden paths were already 
 overgrown, and calves and horses were wandering about the 
 " English park," Prince Andrei went up to the orangery ; the 
 panes of glass were broken ; some of the tubs were overturned ; 
 some of the trees were dried up. 
 
 He shouted to Taras, the gardener. No one replied. Passing 
 around the orangery, he saw that the carved deal fence was 
 broken down, and the plum-trees were stripped of their fruit. 
 An old muzhik Prince Andrei remembered as a boy having 
 seen him years before at the gates was plaiting bast shoes 
 as he sat on "the green-painted bench. 
 
 He was deaf, and did not hear Prince Andrei approach. He 
 was sitting on the bench, which had been the old prince's 
 favorite seat, and near him, on the branches of a broken and 
 dried-up magnolia, hung his strips of bast. 
 
 Prince Andrei went to the house. Some of the linden-trees 
 in the old park had been felled ; a piebald mare, with her 
 colt, was browsing in front of the house itself, among the rose 
 beds. The window shutters ,were closed. One window alone 
 on the ground floor was open. A little peasant lad, catching 
 sight of Prince Andrei, ran into the house. 
 
 Alpatuitch, having got the household away, was the only 
 one left at Luisiya Gorui. He was sitting in the house, and 
 reading " The Lives of the Saints." When he heard that 
 Prince Andrei had come, he came out, with his spectacles on 
 his nose, buttoning up his clothes, and hurried up to the 
 prince, and, before he said a word, bursl into tears, kissing 
 Prince Andrei's knee. 
 
 Then he turned away, angry at, his own weakness, and 
 began to give him an account of the state of affairs. Every- 
 thing of any value and worth had been despatched to Bogu- 
 charovo. One hundred chetverts * of wheat had also been 
 sent ; the crops of hay and corn, which, according to Alpa- 
 tuitch, had been wonderful that year, had been taken standing 
 * A chetvert is 5.77 bushels.
 
 132 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 and carried off by the troops. The peasantry were all ruined : 
 some had gone to Bogucharovo ; a very few were left. 
 
 Prince Andrei, without heeding what he said, asked when 
 his father and sister had left, meaning when had they gone to 
 Moscow. Alpatuitch, supposing he knew that they had gone 
 to Bogucharovo, replied that they had started on the nine- 
 teenth, and then again began to enlarge on the condition of 
 the estate, and ask what arrangements he should make. 
 
 " Do you order to let them have the oats in return for a 
 receipt ? We have still six hundred chetverts left," asked 
 Alpatuitch. 
 
 " What answer shall I give him ? " queried Prince Andrei, 
 looking down at the bald head gleaming in the sun, and read- 
 ing in the expression of his face a consciousness that the old 
 man himself realized the incongruity of such questions, but 
 asked them simply for the sake of drowning his own sorrow. 
 
 " Yes, do so," said he. 
 
 " If you will deign to notice the disorder in the garden," 
 pursued Alpatuitch ; " but it was impossible tq prevent it : 
 three regiments came and camped here for the night. The 
 dragoons especially I took down the rank and the name of 
 the commander, so as to lodge a complaint." 
 
 " Well, but what are you going to do ? Shall you remain if 
 the enemy come ? " asked Prince Andrei. 
 
 Alpatuitch, turning his face full on Prince Andrei, looked at 
 him. And then suddenly, with a solemn gesture, he raised his 
 hands to heaven. " He is my protector ; His will be done ! " 
 he exclaimed. 
 
 A throng of muzhiks and household serfs came trooping 
 across the meadow, and approached Prince Andrei with un- 
 covered heads. 
 
 "Well, prashcha'i good-by," said Prince Andrei, bending 
 down to Alpatuitch. " Escape yourself, take what you can, 
 aild tell the people to go to the Riazan property, or our pod- 
 Moskovnaya." 
 
 Alpatuitch pressed up against his leg, and sobbed. Prince 
 Andrei gently pushed him away, and, giving spurs to his 
 horse, rode at a gallop down the driveway. 
 
 To all appearance as impassive as a fly on the face of a dear 
 dead friend, still sat the old man, and thumped on his shoe 
 Aast. Two young girls, with their skirts full of plums, which 
 they had gathered from the trees, were coming away from the 
 orangery, and met Prince Andrei. When they saw their 
 young barin, the older of the two girls, with an expression of 

 
 WAR AND PEACE. 138 
 
 terror on her face, seized her companion by the arm, and the 
 two hid behind a birch-tree, without having time to gather up 
 the green fruit that had fallen from their skirts. 
 
 Prince Andrei, with a feeling of compunction, hastened to 
 look the other way, so that they might think he had not seen 
 them. He felt sorry to have frightened the pretty little girls. 
 He was afraid to look at them, but, at the same time, he had 
 an overwhelming desire to do so. A new, joyful, ^nd tran- 
 quillizing sense took possession of him at the sight of these 
 little girls : he recognized that there existed other human in- 
 terests entirely apart from his own existence, and yet just as 
 lawful as those with which he was occupied. These two 
 young girls had evidently only one passionate desire to 
 carry off and eat those green plums, and not be found out ; 
 and Prince Andrei sympathized with them, and hoped for the 
 success of their enterprise. He could not refrain from looking 
 back at them once more. 
 
 Supposing that their peril was happily past, they had sprung 
 out from their hiding-place, and, shouting something in shrill 
 voices, they were running gayly across the meadow as fast as 
 their bare, sun-burned little legs would take them. 
 
 Prince Andrei felt somewhat refreshed by his digression 
 from the dusty high-road, where the troops had been marching. 
 But not very far from Luisiya Gorui, he again struck the main 
 thoroughfare, and found his own regiment halting on the em- 
 bankment of a small pond. 
 
 It was about two o'clock in the afternoon. The sun, shining 
 through the dust like a red ball, was unendurably hot, and 
 burned his back under his black coat. The dust still hung 
 like a cloud over the companies while they halted amid a hum 
 of voices. There was no wind. As Prince Andrei rode along 
 the embankment, he caught the faint scent of the mud and 
 fresh coolness of the pond. He felt an inclination to take a 
 plunge into the water, muddy as it was. He gazed at the 
 pond, from which rose the sounds of shouts and laughter. 
 The little sheet, muddy, and green with slime, had evidently 
 risen and was now washing up against the embankment, sim- 
 ply because it was full of human bodies, the bare bodies of 
 soldiers floundering about in it, their white skins making vivid 
 contrast to their brick-red arms, faces, and necks. All this 
 mass of bare human flesh was wriggling about, with shouts 
 and laughter, in that filthy water, like carps flopping in a 
 scoop. This wriggling carried the name of enjoyment, and for 
 that very reason it was particularly melancholy.
 
 134 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 One blond young soldier Prince Andrei had already 
 noticed him of the third company, with a leather string 
 around his calf, crossed himself, stepped back a little so as 
 to get a good start, and dived into the water ; another man, a 
 dark-complexioned non-commissioned officer, with rumpled 
 hair, was up to his middle in the water, ducking his mus- 
 cular form, and, snorting joyfully, was pouring the water over 
 his heacj from hands black even to the wrists. There was a 
 sound of splashing and yelling and plunging. 
 
 On the shores, on the embankment, in the pond itself, every- 
 where was the spectacle of white, healthy, muscular human 
 flesh. The officer, Timokhin, with his short, red nose, was 
 rubbing himself down with a towel on the embankment, and 
 was rather ashamed at seeing the prince ; however, he addressed 
 him, 
 
 " Pretty good, your Illustriousness ; you ought to try it," 
 said he. 
 
 " Dirty," said Prince Andrei, making up a face. 
 
 " We will have it cleared out for you, in a moment." And 
 Timokhin, still undressed, ran down to the water, shouting : 
 " The prince wants a bath." 
 
 " What prince ? Ours ? " shouted various voices, and all 
 were so zealous that Prince Andrei had some difficulty in ap- 
 peasing them. He felt that he would much rather take a 
 bath in a barn. 
 
 " Flesh, body ! chair a canon ! " said he to himself, as he 
 looked down at his bare body, and he trembled, not so much 
 from chill as from his aversion and horror, incomprehensible 
 even to himself, at the sight of that tremendous mass of bodies 
 rinsing themselves in that filthy pond. 
 
 On the nineteenth of August, Prince Bagration, at his en- 
 campment of Mikhailovka on the Smolensk highway, had 
 written the following letter to Arakcheyef ; but he knew that 
 it would be read by the sovereign, and, consequently, he 
 weighed every word to the very best of his ability. 
 
 " MY DEAR COUNT ALEKSEI ANDREYEVITCH : I suppose the minister 
 has already reported to you concerning the surrender of Smolensk to the 
 enemy. It is saddening and painful, and the whole army are in despair 
 that such an important place should have been needlessly abandoned. I. 
 for my part, personally besought him most earnestly, and at last even 
 wrote him. I swear on my honor that never before was Napoleon ' in such 
 a box,' and he might have lost half of his army, but he could not have 
 taken Smolensk. Our troops have been and still are fighting as never 
 before. I held out with fifteen thousand men for more than thirty-five
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 135 
 
 hours, and beat them, but he was not willing to wait even fourteen hours. 
 It is a shame and a blot on our army, and methinks he ought not to live 
 in this world. If h-e reports that our losses are heavy, it is false pos- 
 sibly four thousand, not more than that; even if it had been ten thou- 
 sand, what would it have been ? This is war. But, to offset it, the 
 enemy lost a host. 
 
 " What was to prevent him holding out two days longer? Without 
 question they would have been forced to give it up: they had no water for 
 men and horses. He gave me his word that he would not give way, but 
 suddenly he sent me word that he was going to desert the city by night. 
 We cannot make war that way, and we shall soon be having the enemy 
 at Moscow. 
 
 " The rumor that you are thinking of peace, God forbid! After all our 
 sacrifices, and after such an idiotic retreat, the idea of making peace! 
 You will have all Russia against you, and we shall all be ashamed of 
 wearing the Russian uniform. Since things have gone so far as they 
 have, we must fight so long as Russia can, and so long as we have a man 
 alive. 
 
 "It is essential that one man and not two should have supreme command. 
 Your minister is perhaps excellent in the ministry, but as a general it is 
 not enough to say that he is bad! he is abominable! and yet in his hands 
 is intrusted the fate of our whole country. 
 
 " I assure you I am beside myself with vexation ; forgive me for writing 
 so frankly. It is plain to my mind that any one who advises peace, and 
 approves of confiding the command of the troops to the minister, is no 
 true friend to the sovereign, and wishes to involve vis all in a common de- 
 struction. And so I write you the truth. Arm the landwehr! Here 
 the minister, in the most masterly fashion, is conducting his guests to the 
 capital. 
 
 " Mr. Woltzogen, the fliigel-adjutant, is giving the army great cause for 
 suspicion. They say he is even less favorable to us than Napoleon him- 
 self, and that he" inspires all that the minister does. 
 
 " I am not merely polite to him, I am as obedient as a corporal, 
 although I am older than he is. It is painful, but as I love my sovereign 
 and benefactor, I subordinate myself. Only I am sorry that the sovereign 
 should intrust him with such a glorious army. Just imagine! In our 
 retreat we have lost more than fifteen thousand through fatigue and in 
 hospitals; now, if we had advanced, this would not have happened. For 
 God's sake, have it proclaimed that our Russia our mother will call 
 us cowards, and will demand why we have handed over such a good and 
 glorious cquntry to a mob, thus stirring up hatred and humiliation in the 
 heart of every subject. What should make us cowards ? Whom do we 
 fear ? It is not my fault that the minister is irresolute, cowardly, dull of 
 apprehension, dilatory, and has all the worst qualities. The v/hole army 
 are entirely discouraged, and load him with execrations." 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 AMONG the innumerable subdivisions into which the phe- 
 nomena of life can be disposed, there is one category where 
 matter predominates in contradistinction to another where 
 form predominates. A contrast of this kind may be observed
 
 136 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 between life in the country, in the village, in the govern- 
 mental town nay, even in Moscow, and that which can be 
 seen at Petersburg, and especially in the Petersburg salons. 
 This sort of life goes on always the same. 
 
 Since 1805 we had been quarrelling and making up with 
 Bonaparte ; we had been making constitutions and unmaking 
 them, and yet Anna Pavlovna's salon was exactly the same as 
 it had been seven years before, and Ellen's salon was exactly 
 the same as it had been five years before. Just exactly as 
 before, at Anna Pavlovna's, they were amazed and perplexed 
 at Bonaparte's successes, and detected, not only in his suc- 
 cesses, but also in the subservience of the sovereigns of 
 Europe, a wicked conspiracy, the sole object of which was to 
 disgust and alarm the courtly circle that regarded Anna Pav- 
 lovna as its representative. 
 
 And just exactly the same way at Ellen's (where Rumyant- 
 sef himself was gracious enough to be a frequent visitor, con- 
 sidering her a remarkably intelligent woman) in 1812, as in 
 1808, they talked with enthusiasm of the " great nation " 
 and "the great man,'' and ivgretted the rupture with the 
 French, which in the opinion of the habitues of Ellen's salon 
 ought to end with peace. 
 
 Latterly, since the sovereign's departure from the army, 
 these rival clique-salons were the scenes of some excitement ; 
 and demonstrations of mutual hostility were made, but the 
 general characteristics of the two cliques remained the same. 
 
 Anna Pavlovna's clique received no Frenchmen, except a 
 few inveterate legitimists. It was here that the patriotic idea 
 originated of people being in duty bound to stay away from 
 the French theatre, and the criticism was made that it cost as 
 much to maintain the troupe as to maintain a whole army 
 corps. Here the course of military affairs was eagerly fol- 
 lowed, and the most advantageous reports of our armies found 
 ready credence. 
 
 In Ellen's clique, where Eumyantsef and the French v^e're 
 in favor, the reports as to the barbarities of the enemy and of 
 the war were contradicted, and all Xapoleon's overtures for 
 reconciliation were discussed. This clique were loud in 
 reproaching those who showed what they considered too great 
 haste in making preparations to remove to Kazan, the " Im- 
 perial Institute for the education of young ladies of the 
 nobility," the patroness of which was the empress dowager. 
 Anyway, those who frequented Ellen's salon regarded the 
 war merely as an empty demonstration, which would be very
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 137 
 
 quickly followed by peace, and here they made great use of a 
 witticism of Bilibin's, who was now a frequent visitor at 
 Ellen's, as indeed it behooved every sensible man to be, to the 
 effects that the affair should be settled not by gunpowder, but 
 by the man who invented it.* 
 
 In this clique there was much laughter caused by the 
 witty and ironical, though always guarded observations upon 
 the enthusiasm at Moscow, news of which had arrived at 
 Petersburg simultaneously with the return of the sovereign. 
 
 Anna Pavlovna's clique, on the contrary, were enraptured 
 with this enthusiasm, and spoke of the acts of the Moscovites 
 as Plutarch speaks of the glorious deeds of antiquity. 
 
 Prince Vasili, who, just the same as of yore, held important 
 functions, formed a bond of union between the two cliques. 
 
 He was equally at home with ma bonne amie, Anna Pavlovna, 
 and in the salon diplomatique de m.a fille, and frequently, ow- 
 ing to his constant visits from one camp to the other, he got 
 confused, and said at Ellen's what he should have said at Anna 
 Pavlovna's and vice versa. 
 
 Shortly after the sovereign's arrival, Prince Vasili was at 
 Anna Pavlovna's, conversing about the war, sharply criticis- 
 ing Barclay de Tolly, and frankly confessing his doubt as to 
 the fit person to call to the head of the armies. 
 
 One of the visitors, who was known as Vhoinme de beau- 
 coup de merite, the man of great merit, mentioning the 
 fact that he had that day seen Kutuzof, the newly appointed 
 chief of the Petersburg landwehr, at the Court of Exchequer, 
 enrolling volunteers, allowed himself cautiously to suggest that 
 Kutuzof would be the man to satisfy all demands. 
 
 Anna Pavlovna smiled sadly, and remarked that Kutuzof 
 caused the sovereign nothing but unpleasantness. 
 
 " I have said, and I have said in the chamber of nobles," 
 interrupted Prince Vasili, " but they would not heed me, I 
 have said that his election as commandant of the landwehr 
 would not please the sovereign. They would not listen to me. 
 It is this everlasting mania for petty intrigue," pursued Prince 
 Vasili. " And for what purpose ? Simply because we want 
 to ape that stupid Moscow enthusiasm," said Prince Vasili, 
 becoming confused for a moment, and forgetting that it was at 
 Ellen's where it was considered correct to make sport of Mos- 
 cow enthusiasm, but the fashion to praise it at Anna Pav- 
 lovna's. But he instantly corrected himself. 
 
 * 11 n'a pas invente la pou$re : He will uever set the Thames OB fare. The 
 Russian idiom is similar-
 
 138 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 " 'Now, then, is it fit for Count Kutuzof, Russia's oldest gen- 
 eral, to be holding such sessions at the court ? et il en restera 
 pour sa peine that's as far as he will get. Is it possible to 
 make a man commander-iii-chief who cannot sit a horse, who 
 dozes during council meetings, a man of the worst possi- 
 ble manners ? He Avon a fine reputation for himself at Buka- 
 rest, didn't he ? And I have nothing to say about his qualities 
 as a general ; but is it possible, under present circumstances, to 
 nominate to such a place a man who is decrepit and blind, 
 simply blind ? A blind general would be a fine thing ! He 
 can't see anything at all ! He might play blind-man's-buff 
 but, really, he can't see anything ! " 
 
 No one raised any objection to this. 
 
 On the twenty-fifth of August this was perfectly correct. 
 But, five days later, Kutuzof received the title of prince of the 
 empire. This advance in dignities might also signify that 
 they wanted to shelve him, and, therefore, Prince Yasili's crit- 
 icism would continue to be well- received, although he was not 
 so ready to deliver himself of it. But, on the twentieth of 
 August, a committee was summoned, composed of Field-Mar- 
 shal Saltuikof, Arakcheyef, Viazmitinof, Lopukhin, and Ko- 
 tchubey, to consider the conduct of the war. The committee 
 decided that the failures were attributable to the division of 
 command ; and, although the individuals composing the com- 
 mittee well knew the sovereign's disaffection for Kutuzof, they 
 determined, after a brief deliberation, to place him at the head 
 of the armies. 
 
 And, on that same day, Kutuzof was made plenipotentiary 
 commander-in-chief of the armies, and of the whole district 
 occupied by the troops. 
 
 On the twenty-first, Prince Vasili and the " man of great 
 merit " met again at Anna Pavlovna's. "IShomme de beau- 
 coup de merite " was dancing attendance on Anna Pavlovna, 
 with the hope of securing the appointment of trustee to a 
 woman's educational institute. 
 
 Prince Vasili entered the drawing-room with the air of a 
 rejoicing conqueror who had reached the goal of all his ambi- 
 tions. 
 
 " Well, you know the great news : Prince Kutuzof is 
 appointed field-marshal.* All discords are at an end ! I am 
 so happy, so glad ! " exclaimed Prince Vasili. " There's a 
 man for you ! enfin volla un komme ! " he added with sig- 
 
 * Eh bien, vous savez la grande nouvelle? Le Prince Koutouzoff est mar- 
 echal !
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 139 
 
 nificant emphasis, surveying all in the room with a stern 
 glance. 
 
 " L'homme de beaucoup de merite" in spite of his anxiety to 
 obtain a place, could not refrain from reminding Prince Vasili 
 of his former criticism. This was an act of discourtesy both 
 toward Prince Vasili, in Anna Pavlovna's drawing-room, but 
 also toward Anna Pavlovna herself, who had also been greatly 
 delighted with the news ; but he could not refrain. 
 
 " But it is said that he is blind, prince," * he suggested, 
 quoting Prince Vasili's own words. 
 
 " Oh, pshaw ! he sees well enough," replied Prince Vasili, 
 in quick, deep tones, and clearing his throat his usual resort 
 ? or getting himself out of an awkward situation. "Allez ! il y 
 voit," he repeated. " And what makes me glad," he went 
 on to say, " is that the sovereign has given him full powers 
 over all the forces, and over the whole district such powers 
 as never commander-in-chief enjoyed before. This makes him 
 ;he second autocrat," he said, in conclusion, with a triumphant 
 smile. 
 
 " God grant it, God grant it," said Anna Pavlovna. 
 
 " Uhomme de beaucoup de merite" who was still somewhat 
 of a novice in courtly circles, and wishing to flatter Anna Pav- 
 ovna by taking the ground which she had formerly taken in 
 regard to the same subject, said, 
 
 " They say it went against the sovereign's heart" to allow 
 ;hese powers to Kutuzof. They say that Kutuzof blushed like 
 a school-girl hearing ' Joconde,' when the emperor said : ' The 
 sovereign and your country grant you this honor.' " f 
 
 " Possibly his heart had nothing to do with it," said Anna 
 Pavlovna. 
 
 " Oh, no, certainly not," hotly cried Prince Vasili, coming 
 to his defence. He could not now allow any one to surpass 
 him in his zeal for Kutuzof. According to his idea at the 
 present time, not only was Kutuzof himself the best of men, 
 mt every one simply worshipped him. " No, that is impos- 
 sible, because his majesty long ago appreciated his worth," 
 said he. 
 
 " Only, God grant," ejaculated Anna Pavlovna, " God 
 grant that Prince Kutuzof may have actual power, and will 
 not allow any one whatever to put a spoke in his wheels 
 des batons dans les roues" 
 
 * Mais Von dit qiCil est aveuc/le, mon prince. 
 
 t On dit qu'il rouyit comme une demoiselle a laquelle on lira.it Joconde, en 
 \ui disant : " Le souverain et lapatrie vous decernent cet honneur,"
 
 140 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 Prince Vasili instantly understood whom she meant by any 
 one. He said in a whisper, 
 
 " I know for a certainty that Kutuzof demanded as an abso- 
 lute condition that the tsesarevitch should not have anything 
 to do with the army. You know what he said to the empe- 
 ror ? " and Prince Vasili repeated the words which it was sup- 
 posed Kutuzof spoke to the sovereign, 'I cannot punish him 
 if he does wrong, or reward him if he does well.' Oh ! he is a 
 shrewd man, that Prince Kutuzof je le connais de longue 
 date." 
 
 "But they do say," insisted I'homme de beaucoup de merite, 
 failing still to -employ the tact required at court, " they do 
 say that his' serene highness made it a sine qua non that the 
 sovereign himself should keep away from the army." 
 
 The moment he had spoken those words, Prince Vasili ami 
 A_ima Pavlovna simultaneously turned their backs on him, 
 and, with a sigh of pity for his naivete, exchanged a melan- 
 choly look. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 WHILE this was going on at Petersburg, the French had 
 already left Smolensk behind, and were constantly drawing 
 nearer and nearer to Moscow. 
 
 Thiers, the historian of Napoleon, like other historians of 
 Napoleon, in trying to justify his hero, says that he was drawn 
 on to the walls of Moscow against his will. He and all simi- 
 lar historians are correct on the assumption that the explana- 
 tion of all historical events is to be found 1 in tke will of a 
 single man. He is right, just as the Russian historians are 
 right, who assert that Napoleon was lured on to Moscow by 
 the skill of the Russian generals. Here, unless one goes 
 according to the laws of retrospection, by which, from the 
 vantage-ground of distance, all that has gone before is seen 
 to be the preparation for a given event, everything will seem 
 confused and complicated. A good chess-player, on losing a 
 game, becomes convinced that the cause of it was to be found 
 in his own blunder, and he seeks to find what false move he 
 made at the beginning of his game ; but he forgets that at 
 each step throughout the game there were similar blunders, so 
 that not a single move of his was correct. The blunder to 
 which he directs his attention he notices because his opponent 
 took advantage of it. But how much more complicated is
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 141 
 
 this game of war, which proceeds under the temporal condi- 
 tions where it is impossible that a single will should animate 
 the lifeless machine, but where everything results from the 
 numberless collisions of various volitions ! 
 
 After quitting Smolensk, Napoleon tried to force a battle 
 near Dorogobuzh, at Viazma, then at Tsarevo-Zainiishehe ; * but 
 it happened through these same "innumerable collisions of 
 circumstances " that the Russians were unable to meet the 
 French in battle until they reached Borodino, one hundred and 
 twelve versts from Moscow. At Viazma, Napoleon issued his 
 orders to march straight upon Moscow : Moscow, the Asiatic 
 capital of this great empire, the sacred city of Alexander's 
 populations, Moscow with its countless churches like Chinese 
 pagodas, t 
 
 This Moscou allowed Napoleon's imagination no rest. On 
 the march from Viazma to Tsarevo-Zaimishche, Napoleon rode 
 his English-groomed bay ambler, accompanied by his Guards, 
 his body-guard, his pages, and his aides. His chief of staff, 
 Berthier, had remained behind to interrogate a Russian who 
 had been taken prisoner by the cavalry. And now, accom- 
 panied by his interpreter, Lelorme d'Ideville, he overtook 
 Napoleon at a gallop, and with a beaming face reined in his 
 horse. 
 
 "Eh, bien?" asked Napoleon. 
 
 " One of Platof's Cossacks : he says Platof s corps is just 
 joining the main army, that Kutuzof has been appointed com- 
 mander-in-chief . Very intelligent and talkative tres-intelli- 
 gent et bavard" 
 
 Napoleon smiled, ordered this Cossack to be furnished with 
 a horse, and brought to him. He wished to have a talk with 
 him. Several aides galloped off, and within an hour Denisof's 
 serf, who had been turned by him over to Rostof, Lavrushka, 
 in a denshchik's roundabout, came riding up to Napoleon on a 
 French cavalryman's saddle, with his rascally, drunken face 
 shining with jollity. Napoleon ordered him to ride along by 
 his side, and proceeded to question him. 
 
 " You are a 'Cossack, are you ? " 
 
 " I am, your nobility." 
 
 "The Cossack," says Thiers, in telling this episode, "not 
 knowing his companion, for there was nothing in Napoleon's 
 
 * Zaimisfyhc means "a field frequently overflowed." 
 
 t Moscow, la capitale asiatique de ce grande empire, la capitale sacree des 
 peuples d'Alexandre, Moscou avec ses innombrables eylises en forme de 
 pagodes chinoises.
 
 142 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 appearance that could suggest the presence of a sovereign to 
 an Oriental imagination, conversed with the utmost famil- 
 iarity concerning the occurrences of the war." * 
 
 In reality, Lavrushka, who had been drunk the evening 
 before, and had failed to provide his barin with any din- 
 ner, had been thrashed and sent off to some village after 
 fowls, and there he was tempted by his opportunity for 
 marauding, and was taken prisoner by the French. 
 
 Lavrushka was one of those coarse, insolent lackeys who 
 have seen every kind of life, who consider it to their advan- 
 tage to do everything by treachery and trickery, who are 
 ready to subserve their masters in anything, and are shrewd 
 in divining their evil thoughts, especially those that are vain 
 and petty. 
 
 Being brought now into the company of Napoleon, whom 
 he was sharp enough to recognize, Lavrushka did not in the 
 slightest degree lose his presence of mind, and merely set to 
 work with all his soul to get into the good graces of his new 
 masters. 
 
 He knew perfectly well that it was Napoleon himself, and 
 there was no more reason for him to be abashed in Napoleon's 
 presence than in Rostof's or the sergeant's Avith his knout, for 
 the simple reason that there was nothing of which either the 
 sergeant or Napoleon could deprive him. 
 
 He glibly rattled off all the gossip that was current among 
 the denshchiks. Much of this was true. But when Napoleon 
 asked him whether the Russians anticipated winning a vic- 
 tory over Napoleon or not, Lavrushka frowned and deliberated. 
 Here he saw some subtile craft, just as men like Lavrushka 
 always see craft in everything, and he contracted his brows 
 and was silent for a little. 
 
 "This is about the way of it : f there's a battle pretty 
 soon, then yours will beat. That's a fact. But if three days 
 pass then if there's a battle it'll be a long one." 
 
 This was interpreted to Napoleon as follows : Si la bataille 
 est donnee avant trois jours, les Franqais la gagneraient, mais 
 que si elle serait donnee plus tard, Dieu salt ce qui en arri- 
 verait "If the battle takes place within three days, the 
 French would win, but if it were postponed longer, Heaven 
 knows what would come of it," Thus it was delivered by 
 
 * Le cosaque ignorant la compagnie clems litquelle il se trouvait+car la sim- 
 plicite de Napoleon n'avait rien qui put reveler a une imagination orientate la 
 presence d'un souverain, s'entretint avec la plus yrande familiarite des affaires 
 de la (jtierre actuelle.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 143 
 
 Lelorme d'Ideville with a smile. Napoleon, though he was 
 evidently in a genial frame of mind, did not smile, and ordered 
 these words to be repeated. 
 
 Lavrushka noticed this, and, in order to" amuse him, pre- 
 tended that he did not know who he was. 
 
 " We know that you have Napoleon on your side : he's 
 whipped everybody on earth, but then he'll find us of a differ- 
 ent mettle, " - said he, not knowing himself what made him 
 introduce this boastful patriotism into his words. The inter- 
 preter passed over the last clause and translated the first part 
 only, and Napoleon smiled. "Lajeune Cosaque Jit sourireson 
 puissant interlocnteur the young Cossack's remark made his 
 powerful companion smile," says Thiers. 
 
 After riding a few steps farther in silence, Napoleon spoke 
 to Berthier and said that he would like to try the effect that 
 would be produced on this enfant du Don on learning that the 
 man with whom he, this enfant du Don, had been conversing 
 was the emperor himself, the very emperor who had written 
 his eternally victorious name on the pyramids. 
 
 The information was communicated. 
 
 Lavrushka, comprehending that this had been done so as 
 to embarrass him, and that Napoleon would expect him to 
 show signs of fear, and wishing to please his new masters, 
 immediately pretended to be overwhelmed with astonishment 
 and struck dumb ; he, dropped his eyes and put on such a face 
 as he usually drew when he was led off for a thrashing. 
 
 Says Thiers : " Hardly had Napoleon's interpreter revealed 
 his name, ere the Cossack was overwhelmed with confusion ; 
 he did not utter another word and rode on with his eyes 
 steadily fixed on that conqueror whose name had reached even 
 his ears across the steppes of the East. All his loquacity was 
 suddenly checked and gave place to unaffected, silent admira- 
 tion. Napoleon, having rewarded him, set him at liberty, as a 
 bird is restored to its native fields." * 
 
 Napoleon went on his way, but the bird restored to its 
 native fields galloped off to the picket lines, thinking up 
 beforehand what sort of a romance he should tell his ac- 
 quaintances. The thing that had actually happened to him 
 
 * A peine V interprets de Napoleon avait-il parle, que le Cosaque, sain 
 d'une sorte d'abaissement, ne prof era plus une parole et marcha les yeux con- 
 stamment attaches sur ce conquerant, dont le nom avait penetre jusqu'a lui, 
 a travers les steppes de V orient. Toute sa loqaacite' s'e'tait subitement arrete'e, 
 pour faire place a un sentiment d'admiration naive et silencieuse. Napoleon, 
 apres Vavoir recompense, lui fit donner la liberte comme a un oiseau qu'on 
 rend aux champs qui I'ont vu naitre.
 
 144 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 he had no intention of telling, for the simple reason that it 
 seemed to him unworthy of narration. He rode up to the 
 Cossacks and made inquiries as to where he should find his 
 regiment, which now formed a part of Platof s division, and 
 toward evening he reported to his barin, Nikolai Kostof, who 
 was bivouacking at Yankovo and had just mounted to make 
 a reconnoissance of the neighboring villages. He gave La- 
 vrushka a fresh horse and took him with him. 
 
 CHAPTEE VIII. 
 
 THE Princess Mariya was not at Moscow and out of harm's 
 way, as her brother supposed. 
 
 When Alpatuitch returned from Smolensk, the old prince 
 seemed suddenly to wake, as it were, from a dream. He 
 ordered the peasantry to be formed into the landwehr and 
 armed, and wrote a letter to the commander-in-chief, inform- 
 ing him of his intention to remain at Luisiya Gorui and de- 
 fend himself till the last extremity, leaving it to his consider- 
 ation whether to take measures or not for the defence of the 
 place where one of the oldest of Russian generals proposed to 
 be taken prisoner or to die. At the same time he announced 
 to his household that he should remain at Luisiya Gorui. 
 
 But, while determined himself not to quit Luisiya Gorui, he 
 insisted that the princess with Dessalles and the young prince 
 should go to Bogucharovo, and from there to Moscow. The 
 princess, alarmed by her father's feverish, sleepless activity 
 so suddenly taking the place of his former lethargy, could not 
 bring herself to leave him alone, and for the first time in her 
 life permitted -herself to disobey him. She refused to leave, 
 and this drew upon her a terrific storm of fury from the 
 prince. He brought up against her everything which he 
 could find that was most unjust toward her. In his en- 
 deavors to incriminate her, he declared that she was a torment 
 to him, that she had made him quarrel with his son, that she 
 had harbored shameful suspicions of him, that she made it 
 the task of her life to poison his life, and finally he drove her 
 out of his 'cabinet, saying that if he never set eyes on her 
 again, it would be all the same to him. 
 
 He declared that he would never have her name mentioned, 
 and henceforth she might do what she pleased, but let her 
 never dare to come into his sight again. The fact that, in 
 spite of the Princess Mariya's apprehensions, he did not order
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 145 
 
 her to be carried away by main force, but simply forbade her 
 to come into his sight, was a comfort to her. She knew this 
 proved that in the secret depths of his heart he was glad of 
 her determination to stay at home and not go. 
 
 On the morning of the day after Nikolushka's departure, 
 the old prince put on his full uniform and prepared to visit 
 the Commander-in-chief. The carriage was already at the 
 door. The Princess Mariya saw him as he left the house in 
 his uniform and all his orders, and went down into the park 
 to review his peasantry and household serfs under arms. The 
 Princess Mariya sat at the window and listened to the tones 
 of his voice echoing through the park. Suddenly a number of 
 men came running from the avenue with frightened faces. 
 
 The Princess Mariya hastened down the steps, along the 
 flower-bordered walk and into the avenue. Here she was met 
 by a great throng of the landwehr and the household serfs, 
 and in the centre of this throng several men were carrying 
 the poor little veteran in his uniform and orders. 
 
 The Princess Mariya ran up to him, and, in the shifting 
 play of the sunbeams falling in little circles through the lime- 
 tree boughs, and flecking the ground, she could not clearly 
 make out what change had taken place in her father's face. 
 The one thing that she noticed was that the former stern and 
 resolute expression of his face had changed into an expression 
 of timidity and submission. When- he caught sight of his 
 daughter, he moved his lips, but his words were unintelligible, 
 and the only sound that came forth was a hoarse rattling. 
 It was impossible to understand what he wished to say. They 
 took him carefully in their arms, carried him into his cabinet, 
 and laid him on that divan where he had been of late so loath 
 to lie. 
 
 The doctor who was summoned that same night took blood 
 from him, and announced that paralysis had affected his right 
 side. 
 
 As it grew more and more dangerous to remain at Luisiya 
 Gorui, the day after the stroke the prince was removed to 
 Bogucharovo. The doctor went with him. 
 
 When they reached Bogucharovo, Dessalles and the little 
 prince had already started for Moscow. 
 
 The old prince lay for three weeks in. the same condition, 
 neither better nor worse, in the new house which his son had 
 erected at Bogucharovo. He lay in a lethargic state. He was 
 like a mutilated corpse. He kept constantly muttering some- 
 thing with twitching brows and lips, but it was impossible to 
 VOL. 3. 10.
 
 146 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 make out whether or not he realized what was going on around 
 him. 
 
 The only thing that was certain was that he struggled and 
 felt the necessity of saying something ; but what it was no 
 one could divine. Was it the whim of a sick and semi-deliri- 
 ous man ? Did it refer to the general course of affairs ? Or 
 was it in regard to the circumstances of the family ? This 
 was a question that no one could decide. 
 
 The doctor insisted that there was no significance to be 
 found in this restlessness, that it proceeded wholly from 
 physical causes ; but the Princess Mariya felt certain that he 
 wished to say something to her, and the fact that her presence 
 always increased his agitation confirmed her in this supposi- 
 tion. 
 
 He apparently suffered both physically and mentally. There 
 was no hope of his recovery. It was impossible to remove 
 him. And what would have been done had he died on the 
 road? 
 
 " Would not the end, would not death be far better ? " the 
 Princess Mariya sometimes asked herself. She sat by him 
 night and day, almost denying herself sleep ; and, terrible to 
 say, she often watched him closely, not with the hope of dis- 
 covering symptoms of improvement, but rather with the wish 
 that she might discover the approaching end. 
 
 Strange as it was for the princess to confess to this f&eling, 
 still it was there. And what was still more horrible for her 
 was that since the illness of her father even if it were not 
 earlier, the time, say, when she had elected to stay by him 
 with some vague expectation all her long-forgotten hopes 
 and desires seemed to wake and take possession of her once 
 more. What she had long years ago ceased to think of the 
 thought of a life free from the terror of her father's tyranny, 
 even the dream of love, and the possibility of family happi- 
 ness, constantly arose in her imagination like the suggestions 
 of the evil one. 
 
 PO matter how strenuously she tried to put them all away, 
 the thought would constantly arise in her mind how she 
 would henceforth, after this was over, arrange her life. This 
 was a temptation from the devil, and the Princess Mariya 
 knew it. She knew that the only weapon against this was 
 prayer, and she tried to pray. She put herself into the atti- 
 tude of prayer, she looked at the holy pictures, she read the 
 words of the breviary, but she could not pray. She felt that 
 now she was going to be brought into contact with the world
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 147 
 
 of life, of hard and yet free activity, so different, so wholly 
 opposed to that moral world in which she had been hitherto 
 surrounded ; in which her best consolation had been prayer. She 
 found it impossible to pray, impossible to shed a tear; the 
 new laborious delight of living had taken possession of her. 
 
 It was growing still more perilous to remain at Bogu- 
 charovo. From every direction came rumors of the approach 
 of the French, and in a village only fifteen versts distant a 
 farmhouse had been pillaged by French marauders. 
 
 The doctor insisted that it was necessary to get his patient 
 farther away. The predvodityel, or marshal of the nobility, 
 sent an officer to the Princess Mariya, urging her to get away 
 as speedily as possible. The district ispravnik, coming in 
 person to Bogucharovo, insisted on the same thing, declaring 
 that the French were only forty versts off, that the French 
 proclamations were circulating among the villages, and that if 
 the princess did not get her father away by the twenty-seventh, 
 he would not answer for the consequences. 
 
 The princess resolved to start on the twenty-seventh. The 
 labors in preparation, the manifold orders which she had to 
 give, as every one came to her for directions, kept her busy all 
 day long. The night of the twenty-sixth she spent as usual, 
 without undressing, in the room next to that occupied by her 
 father. Several times, arousing from her doze, she heard his 
 hoarse breathing and muttering, the creaking of his bed. and 
 the steps of Tikhon and the doctor as they turned him over. 
 Several times she listened at the door, and it seemed to her 
 that he muttered more distinctly than hitherto, and turned 
 over more frequently. She could not sleep, and many times she 
 went to the door and listened, wishing to go in, and yet not 
 having the courage to do so. Although he could not tell her 
 so, still she had seen and she knew how much he was annoyed 
 by every expression of solicitude on his account. She had ob- 
 served how he impatiently avoided her glance, which she 
 sometimes fixed upon him, in spite of herself, full of anxiety. 
 She knew that her intrusion at night, at such an unusual time, 
 would annoy him. 
 
 But never before had she felt so sad, so terribly sad, at the 
 thought of losing him. She recalled all her life with him, 
 and discovered the expression of his love for her in his every 
 word and every deed. Occasionally these recollections would 
 be interrupted by those promptings of the devil, the thoughts 
 of what would happen after he was gone, and how she would 
 arrange her new life of freedom. But she dismissed such
 
 148 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 thoughts with loathing. Toward morning he became quieterj 
 and she fell into a sound sleep. 
 
 She awoke late. The clear-sightedness which is a concomi- 
 tant of our waking hours made her realize that her father's 
 illness was the one predominant occupation of her life. As 
 she woke up she listened for what was going on in the next 
 room, and, hearing his hoarse breathing, she said to herself 
 with a sigh that there was no change. 
 
 " But what should it be ? What is it that I wish ? I am 
 looking forward to his death," she told herself, revolted at 
 the very thought. 
 
 She changed her dress, made her toilet, said her prayers, 
 and went out on the steps. In front of the door the carriages 
 were standing without horses ; a number of things had been 
 already packed. 
 
 The morning was warm and hazy. The Princess Mariya 
 was standing on the steps, her mind still full of horror at the 
 thought of her moral depravity, and striving to bring some 
 order into her mental state before going in to see him. 
 
 The doctor came downstairs and approached her. 
 
 "He is better to-day," said he. "I was looking for you. 
 You may be able to catch something of what he says. His 
 mind is clearer. Come. He is calling for you " 
 
 The Princess Mariya's heart beat so violently at this news 
 that she turned pale and leaned up against the door lest she 
 should fall. To see him, to speak with him, to come under 
 the power of his eyes now when her soul had just been full of 
 these terrible, criminal, sinful temptations was too painful a 
 union of joy and horror. 
 
 " Come," said the doctor. 
 
 The princess went to her father's room and approached his 
 bed. He was lying propped high up, with his small, bony 
 hands covered with knotted purple veins resting on the 
 counterpane, with his left eye straight as it always had been, 
 and with his right eye drawn down, though now his brows and 
 lips were motionless. He was the same little lean, weazened, 
 pitiful old man. His face seemed all shrivelled, so that the 
 features seemed to be without character or coherence. The 
 Princess Mariya approached him and kissed his hand. His 
 left hand gave her hand a returning pressure that made it 
 evident he had been for some time expecting her. He held 
 her hand, and his brows and lips moved impatiently. 
 
 She looked at him in terror, striving to get an inkling of 
 what he desired of her. When she changed her "position and
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 149 
 
 moved so that he could see her face with his left eye, he 
 seemed satisfied and for several seconds did not let her out of 
 his sight. Then his brows and lips quivered; he uttered 
 sounds and began to speak, looking at her timidly and suppli- 
 catingly, evidently apprehensive that she would not under- 
 stand him. 
 
 The Princess Mariya, concentrating all her powers of atten- 
 tion, looked at him. The comic difficulty he had in managing 
 his tongue caused her to drop her eyes and made it hard for 
 her to choke down the sobs that rose in her throat. He said 
 something, several times repeating his words. The Princess 
 Mariya could not understand them, but in her attempts to 
 get at the gist of what he said she uttered several sentences 
 questioningly. 
 
 " Gaga bo'i bo'i " he repeated several times. It was 
 impossible to make any sense out of those sounds. The doc- 
 tor thought that he had found the clew, and, trying to come 
 the nearest to those sounds, asked : " Do you mean, Is the 
 princess * afraid ? " He shook his head and again repeated 
 the same sounds. 
 
 " His mind, his mind troubles him ! " t suggested the prin- 
 cess. He uttered a sort of roar by way of affirmation, seized 
 her hand and pressed it here and there on his chest, as though 
 trying to find a place suitable for it to rest. 
 
 " Think all the time about thee," he then said far 
 more distinctly than before, now that he was persuaded 
 that they understood him. The Princess Mariya bowed her 
 head down to his hand to hide her sobs and tears. 
 
 He smoothed her hair. " I was '- calling thee - all night," 
 he went on saying. 
 
 " If I had only known," said she through her tears. " I 
 was afraid to come in." 
 
 He pressed her hand. "Were you not asleep ? " 
 
 "No, I was not asleep," replied the princess, shaking her 
 head. Falling under the influence of her father's condition, 
 she now, in spite of herself, had to speak, as he did, more by 
 signs, and almost found it difficult to manage her tongue. 
 
 " Darling," % or did he say little daughter ? she could 
 not tell, but she was assured by his look that he had called 
 her some affectionate, caressing name, which he had never 
 before done, " why didn't you come in ? " 
 
 * Knyazhnya boitsa. 
 t Diisha, diisha bolit. 
 | Dushenka, (little soul) or Druzhtik, diminutive of friend or love.
 
 150 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 " And I was wishing him dead, wishing him dead," thought 
 the Princess Mariya. 
 
 He lay silent. "Thank thee daughter, dearest for all, 
 for everything. Forgive. Thank thee forgive thank 
 thee!" And the tears trickled from his eyes. "Call An- 
 dryusha," said he suddenly, and, making this request, a child- 
 ishly puzzled and distrustful expression came into his face. 
 It seemed as though he himself knew that there was some- 
 thing out of the way about this request. So at least it seemed 
 to the Princess Mariya. 
 
 " I have had a letter from him," replied the Princess Mariya. 
 He gazed at her in puzzled amazement. 
 
 "Where is he ? " 
 
 " He is with the army, mon pere, at Smolensk." 
 
 He closed his eyes and remained long silent. Then he 
 opened his eyes and nodded his head affirmatively as though 
 in answer to his own doubts, as much as to say that now he 
 understood and remembered everything. 
 
 " Yes," said he in a low but distinct voice. " Russia is 
 ruined, lost ! They have ruined her ! " And again he sobbed 
 and the tears rolled down his cheeks. The Princess Mariya 
 could no longer contain herself, and she also wept as she looked 
 into his face. 
 
 He again closed his eyes. His sobs ceased. He made a 
 gesture toward his eyes with his hand, and Tikhon, understand- 
 ing what he meant, wiped his eyes for him. Then he opened 
 his eyes and made some remark which no one for some time 
 understood : at last Tikhon made out what he had said, and 
 said it over after him. The Princess Mariya had been trying 
 to connect the sense of his words with what he had just 
 before been speaking about. She thought he might be speak- 
 ing either of Russia, or of Prince Andrei, or of herself, or of 
 his grandson, or of his own death. 
 
 And consequently she could not make it out. "Put on 
 your white dress ; I like it," was what he had said. 
 - On hearing this, the Princess Mariya sobbed still more 
 violently ; and the doctor, taking her by the arm, led her from 
 the room, put upon the terrace, telling her to calm herself and 
 then finish the preparations for the departure. After his 
 daughter had left him he again spoke about his son, about the 
 war, about the sovereign, and scowled angrily, and tried to 
 raise his hoarse voice, and then came the second and finishing 
 stroke. 
 
 The Princess Mariya had remained on the terrace, The 

 
 WAR AND PEACE. 151 
 
 \veather was now clear ; it was sunny and hot. She found it 
 impossible to realize anything, or to think of anything, or to 
 feel anything, except her passionate love for her father, a love 
 which, it seemed to her, she had never felt until that moment. 
 She ran into the park, and, still sobbing, hastened down to 
 the pond, along the avenues of lindens that her brother had 
 recently planted. 
 
 " Yes I I I wished for his death. Yes, I wished it 
 to end quickly ! I wanted to rest. But what will become 
 of me ? What peace shall I ever find when he is gone ? " 
 muttered the princess, aloud, as she walked through the park 
 with swift steps and beat her breast, which was heaving with 
 convulsive sobs. 
 
 After having made the round of the park, which brought her 
 back to the house again, she saw Mademoiselle Bourienne 
 who had remained at Bogucharovo, and had refused to go 
 away coming toward her, in company with a man whom she 
 did not recognize. This was the district predvodityel, who 
 had come in person to impress upon the princess the impera- 
 tive need of their immediate departure. 
 
 The Princess Mariya heard what he said, but his words had 
 no meaning for her : she conducted him into the house, asked 
 him to remain to breakfast, and sat down with him. Then, 
 excusing herself, she went to the old prince's door. The doc- 
 tor, with a frightened face, came to her, and said she could not 
 go in. " Retire, princess ; go away, go away ! " 
 
 The princess went into the park again, and down the slope 
 to the pond, and threw herself on the turf, where no one could 
 see her. She- knew not how long she remained there. 
 Women's steps running along the avenue roused her from her 
 revery. She got up and saw her maid Dunyasha, who was 
 evidently in search of her, suddenly stop with a terrified face 
 at sight of her mistress. 
 
 " Please, princess the prince " stammered Dunyasha, 
 in a broken voice. 
 
 "Instantly I am coming I am coming," cried the prin- 
 cess, not giving Dunyasha time to finish telling what she had 
 to say, and ran to the house, trying not to look at the 
 maid. 
 
 " Princess, God's will is done ; you must be prepared for 
 the worst," said the predvodityel, who met her at the door- 
 way. 
 
 " Leave me ! It is false ! " she cried, angrily. 
 
 The doctor tried to hold her back. She pushed him away.
 
 152 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 and ran into the room. " Why do these people look so 
 frightened ? Why do they try to keep me away ? I do not 
 need them. What are they doing here ? " 
 
 She opened the door, and the bright sunlight in the room 
 that a short time ago had been kept so dark filled her with 
 terror. The old nyanya and other women were busy in the 
 room. They all moved away from the bed, and made room 
 for her to approach. He still lay on the same bed ; but the 
 stern aspect of his face, calm in death, rooted the Princess 
 Mariya to the threshold. 
 
 " No ! he is not dead ! It cannot be ! " said the Princess 
 Mariya to herself ; she went to him, and, overcoming the hor- 
 ror which seized her, she pressed her lips to his cheek. But 
 instantly she recoiled from the bed. Suddenly all the affec- 
 tion for him which she had just felt so powerfully vanished, 
 and instead came a feeling of horror for what was before 
 her. 
 
 " No ! he is no more ! He is gone ! And in his place here, 
 where he was, is this strange and unfriendly thing ; this 
 frightful, blood-curdling, repulsive mystery ! " 
 
 And, covering her face with her hands, the Princess Mariya 
 fell into the arms of the doctor, who was there to catch her. 
 
 Under the superintendence of Tikhon and the doctor, the 
 women laved that which had been the prince ; they tied a 
 handkerchief around his head, so that his jaw might not 
 stiffen with the mouth open, and they bound together his legs 
 with another handkerchief. Then they dressed him in his 
 uniform, with his orders, and laid out his little, weazened body 
 on a table. God knows under whose direction and at what 
 time all this was accomplished, but everything seemed to be 
 done of itself. 
 
 By night the candles were burning around the coffin, the 
 pall was laid over it ; juniper was strewn upon the floor ; a 
 printed prayer was placed under the wrinkled head of the 
 dead, and in the room sat the diachok reading the psalter. 
 
 Just as horses shy and crowd together and neigh at the 
 sight of a dead horse, so in the drawing-room, around the 
 coffin of the dead prince, gathered a throng of strangers and 
 the members of the household, the predvodityel. and the 
 starosta, and the peasant women, and all, with staring eyes 
 and panic-stricken, crossed themselves and bowed low and 
 kissed the aged prince's cold, stiff hand.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 153 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 UNTIL Prince Andrei went to reside at Bogucharovo, the 
 place had always been an " absentee " estate, and the peas- 
 antry bore an entirely different character from those of Luisjya 
 Gorui. They differed in speech and in dress and in customs. 
 They called themselves " children of the steppe." The old 
 prince praised them for their endurance in work when they 
 came over to Luisiya Gorui to help get. in the crops or dig out 
 the pond and ditches ; but he did not like them, because of 
 their boorishness. 
 
 Their manners had not been softened since Prince Andrei's 
 last residence there, in spite of his dispensaries and schools, 
 and the lightening of the obrok or quit-rent ; on the contrary, 
 those traits of character which the old prince called boorish- 
 ness seemed to have been intensified. Strange, obscure 
 rumors were always finding credence among them ; at one 
 time they got the notion that they were all to be enrolled as 
 Cossacks ; another time, it was a new religion which they were 
 to be forced to accept ; then, again, there was talk about certain 
 imperial dispensations ; then, at the time they took the oath 
 of allegiance to Paul Petrovitch, in 1797, they got the notion 
 that their freedom had been granted them, but that their mas- 
 ters had deprived them of it; and, again, it was the return 
 of Peter Feodorovitch * to the throne, who would be tsar in 
 seven years, and give them absolute freedom, so that every- 
 thing would be simple and easy, and they would have no laws 
 at all. 
 
 The rumors of the war and of Napoleon and his invasion 
 were connected in their minds with obscure notions of Anti- 
 christ, the end of the world, and perfect freedom. 
 
 In the vicinity of Bogucharovo were a number of large vil- 
 lages, belonging to the crown or to non-resident proprietors. 
 It was very rarely that these proprietors came to reside on 
 their estates : there were also very few domestic serfs, or 
 people who knew how to read and write ; and the lives of the 
 peasantry of this region were more noticeably and powerfully 
 affected than elsewhere by those mysterious currents character- 
 istic of the common people in Russia, the significance and 
 causes of which are so inexplicable to contemporaries. 
 
 A phenomenon which illustrates this had taken rjlace a 
 * Peter III,
 
 154 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 score of years before, when an exodus of the peasantry was 
 made toward certain "hot rivers." Hundreds of peasants, 
 including some from Bogucharovo, suddenly sold their cattle 
 and set off with their families " somewhere " toward the south- 
 east. Just as birds fly " somewhere " across the sea, so these 
 men, with their wives and children, made every endeavor to 
 reach that unknown Southeast, where none of them had ever 
 been before. They marched in caravans ; here and there one 
 bought his freedom ; others ran away, and set forth in wagons 
 or on foot for the " hot rivers " ! Many were caught and pun- 
 ished ; many were sent to Siberia ; many perished of cold and. 
 starvation on the road ; many returned of their own accord ; 
 and, at last, this migration died out of itself, just as it had 
 begun, without any visible reason. But these underground 
 currents ceased not to flow among this people, and they were 
 gathering impetus for some new outbreak, likely to prove just 
 as perplexing, as unexpected, and, at the same time, as simple, 
 natural, and violent. 
 
 At the present time, in 1812, any man whose life brought 
 him in contact with the people might have observed that these 
 hidden currents were working with extraordinary energy, and 
 were all ready for an eruption. 
 
 Alpatuitch, who had arrived at Bogucharovo some little 
 time before the old prince's decease, had observed that there 
 was considerable excitement among the peasantry : while in the 
 region of Luisiya G-orui only sixteen versts distant all 
 the peasants had deserted their homes, leaving their villages 
 to be marauded by the Cossacks ; here, on the contrary, in 
 the " Steppe " belt, in the region of Bogucharovo, the peas- 
 antry, so the report ran, had dealings with the French, were in 
 receipt of certain papers which were circulating among them, 
 and had no thought of leaving their homes. 
 
 He knew, through certain of the household serfs who were 
 faithful to him, that a muzhik named Karp, who had great 
 influence over the mir, or peasant commune, had lately 
 returned from driving a crown wagon-train, and was spreading 
 the report that the Cossacks were ravaging the villages that 
 had been deserted by their inhabitants, while the French were 
 not touching them. 
 
 He was informed on good authority that another muzhik, 
 the evening before, had brought from the village of Vislo- 
 ukhovo, where the French were, a proclamation from a French 
 genera*!, representing to the inhabitants that no harm would be 
 done to them, and that cash should be paid for whatever was
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 155 
 
 taken, provided they remained in their homes. As proof posi- 
 tive of this, the muzhik brought with him from Vislo-iikhovo 
 a hundred rubles in assignats he did not know that they 
 were counterfeit which had been paid to him for his hay. 
 
 Finally, and more important than all, Alpatuitch found that 
 on that very day when he had commanded the starosta to pro- 
 cure wagons for the conveyance of the princess's effects from 
 Bogucharovo, the peasants had held a morning meeting in 
 the village, at which it had been voted that they should not 
 stir from the place, but wait. And meantime there was no 
 time to lose. 
 
 The predvodityel, on the very day on which the prince had 
 died, the twenty -seventh, had come to urge the princess 
 to depart without further delay, at the risk was growing con- 
 stantly more imminent. He had declared that after the twenty- 
 eighth he would not be responsible for the consequences. 
 That same evening, after the prince's demise, he had gone 
 away, promising to be present at the funeral on the next day. 
 But on the next day it was impossible for him to be present, 
 since news had been brought to him of an unexpected 
 approach of the French, and he had barely time to remove his 
 own family and valuables from his estate. 
 
 For thirty years, Dron, whom the old prince always called 
 by the affectionate diminutive, Dronushka, had exercised the 
 functions of starosta, or bailiff, at Bogucharovo. 
 
 Dron was one of those muzhiks powerful, physically and 
 morally who, as soon as they come to years of discretion, 
 grow a patriarchal beard, and live on without change till they 
 are sixty or seventy years old, without a gray hair or the loss 
 of a tooth, just as erect and powerful at sixty as they were at 
 thirty. 
 
 Dron, shortly after his returning from his expedition to the 
 "hot rivers," in which he had taken part, had been made starosta- 
 burmistr, or bailiff headman of the village of Bogucharovo ; 
 and, since that time, he had performed without reproach all 
 the functions of that office. The muzhiks feared him more 
 than they feared their barin. His masters both the old 
 prince and the young prince respected him, and, in jest, 
 called him " minister." During all the time of his service, 
 Dron had never once been drunk or sick. Never, even after sleep- 
 less nights' or after the most exhausting labors, was he known 
 to show the slightest slothfulness, and, though he did not know 
 his letters, he never made the slightest mistakes in his money 
 accounts, or as to the number of poods of flour which he
 
 156 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 carried in monstrous loads and sold, or as to the amount of a 
 single rick of corn harvested in the fields of Bogucharovo. 
 
 Alpatuitch, on his arrival from the devastated Luisiya Gorui, 
 summoned this Dron, on the very day of the funeral, and 
 ordered him to have ready a dozen horses for the princess's 
 conveyance, and eighteen teams for the luggage which she was 
 to take with her from Bogucharovo. Although the peasantry 
 paid an obrok or quit-rent, Alpatuitcli never dreamed that 
 there would be any difficulty in having this order carried out, 
 since the villages contained two hundred and thirty taxable 
 households, and the muzhiks were well-to-do. 
 
 But the starosta, Dron, on receiving this order, dropped his 
 eyes and made no answer. Alpatuitcli named certain peasants 
 whom he knew, and ordered him to make the requisitions on 
 them. 
 
 Dron replied that these men's horses were off on carrier 
 duty. Alpatuitcli named still other muzhiks. And these 
 men, also, according to Dron, had no horses : some were off 
 with the government trains ; others were out of condition ; 
 still others had lost theirs through lack of forage. According 
 to Dron's report, it was impossible to secure horses for the car- 
 riages, to say nothing of those for the baggage-wagons. 
 
 Alpatuitch looked sharply at the starosta and scowled. In 
 the same way as Dron was a model of what a peasant starosta 
 should be, in the same way Alpatuitch had not managed the 
 prince's estates for nothing all those twenty years, and he 
 also was a model overseer. He was in the highest degree 
 qualified to understand, as by a sort of scent, the wants and 
 instincts of the people with whom he had to do, and this made 
 him a surpassingly excellent overseer. He knew by a single 
 glance at Dron, that Dron's answers were not the expression 
 of Dron's individual opinions, but merely the expression of 
 the general disposition of the Bogucharovo commune, in 
 which the starosta was evidently involved. But. at the same 
 time, he knew that Dron, who had grown rich and was hated 
 by the commune, must necessarily waver between the two 
 camps, the peasants' and the master's. This wavering he 
 could detect in his eyes, and, therefore, Alpatuitch, with a 
 frown, drew near to Dron. 
 
 " Listen, you, Dronushka ! " said he. " You need not tell 
 me idle tales. His Illustriousness Prince Andrei iJSTikolaitch 
 himself gave me orders that all the peasantry should leave, 
 and not remain behind with the enemy ; and those are the 
 tsar's orders also. So any one who stays is a traitor to the 
 tsar. Do you hear ? "
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 157 
 
 '' Yes, I hear," replied Dron, not raising his eyes. 
 
 Alpatuitch was not satisfied with this answer. 
 
 "Ah! Dron! Ill will come of it!" exclaimed Alpatuitch, 
 shaking his head. 
 
 " You have the power,'' returned Dron mournfully. 
 
 "Ah, Dron ! Give it up ! " exclaimed Alpatuitch, taking his 
 hand out from the breast of his coat, and, with a solemn ges- 
 ture, pointing under Droir s feet. " Not only do I see through 
 and through you, but I can see three arshins under you : every- 
 thing there is," said he, looking down at Dron's feet. 
 
 Dron grew confused ; he gave Alpatuitch a fleeting look, and 
 then dropped his eyes again. 
 
 " Stop all this nonsense, and tell the people to get ready to 
 leave for Moscow, and have the teams ready to-morrow morn- 
 ing for the princess, and mind you don't attend any more of 
 their meetings ! Do you hear ? " 
 
 Dron suddenly threw himself at his feet. 
 
 " Yakof Alpatuitch ! discharge me ! Take the keys from 
 me ! discharge me, for Christ's sake ! " 
 
 " Stop ! " said Alpatuitch sternly. " I can see three arshins 
 deep under you ! " he repeated, knowing that his skill in going 
 after bees, his knowledge of the times and seasons for sowing, 
 and the fact that for a score of years he had succeeded in satis- 
 fying the old prince, had long ago given him the reputation of 
 being a koldoon, or wizard, and that to koldoons was attrib- 
 uted the power of seeing three arshins under a man. 
 
 Dron got to his feet, and tried to say something, but Alpa- 
 tuitch interrupted him. 
 
 " Come now ! What is your idea in all this ? Ha ? What 
 are you dreaming of ? Ha ? " 
 
 " What shall I do with the people ? " asked Dron. " They 
 are all stirred up ! And, besides, I have told them." 
 
 " What's the good of telling them ? " he asked. " Are they 
 drunk ? " he 'demanded laconically. 
 
 " All stirred up, Yakof Alpatuitch ! They have just brought 
 another cask ! " 
 
 " Now, then, listen ! I will go to the ispravnik, and you 
 hasten back to the people, and bid them quit all this sort of 
 thing, and get ready the teams." 
 
 " I obey," replied Dron. 
 
 Yakof Alpatuitch insisted on nothing more. He had been 
 in control of the people too long not to know that the principal 
 way of bringing the people to subordination was not to show 
 the slightest doubt that they would become subordinate.
 
 158 ^VAR AND PEACE. 
 
 Having wrung from Dron the submissive " slushdyu-s, I 
 obey," - Yakof Alpatuitch contented himself with that, 
 although lie not merely suspected, but was even certain in his 
 own mind, that, without the assistance of a squad of militia, 
 nothing would be done. 
 
 And, in point of fact, there were no teams forthcoming, as 
 he supposed. Another meeting of the peasantry was held at 
 the village tavern ; and this meeting voted to drive the horses 
 out into the woods and not to furnish the teams. Saying 
 nothing of all this to the princess, Alpatuitch gave orders to 
 have the carts that had brought his own effects from Luisiya 
 Gorui unloaded, and to have his horses put to the Princess 
 Mariya's carriage, and he himself went to consult with the 
 authorities. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE Princess Mariya, after her father's funeral, shut her- 
 self up in her room, and admitted no one. Her maid came to 
 the door to say that Alpatuitch was there to learn her wishes 
 in regard to the departure. (This 'was before his interview 
 with Dron.) The princess sat up on the sofa where she 
 had been lying, and spoke through the closed door, declaring 
 that she would never go away anywhere, and asked her to 
 leave her in peace. 
 
 The windows of the room which the Princess Mariya occu- 
 pied faced the south. She lay on the sofa, with her face 
 turned toward the wall, and picking with her fingers at the 
 buttons on the leathern cushion, which was the only thing that 
 she could see, while her vague thoughts were concentrated on 
 one thing : she was thinking about the unavoidableness of 
 death and of her own moral baseness, which had now been re- 
 vealed to her for the first time in its manifestation during her 
 father's illness. She wanted but she dared not to pray ; she 
 dared not, in that state of mind in which she found herself, 
 to turn to God in prayer. Long she lay in that position. 
 
 The sun had gone round to the other side of the house, and 
 its slanting afternoon beams, which fell through the opened 
 windows, lighted up the room and lay on the cushion at which 
 she was looking. The train of sombre thoughts suddenly 
 ceased. She instinctively sat up, smoothed her hair, got to 
 her feet, and went to the window, where, without thinking 
 she filled her lungs with the cool air of the bright but windy 
 afternoon.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 159 
 
 "Yes, now you can enjoy your fill of the evening! He is 
 gone, and no one is here to interfere with you," said she to 
 herself, and, dropping into a chair, leaned her head on the 
 window-seat. Some one, in a soft, affectionate voice, called her 
 name from the park side of the window, and kissed her on the 
 head. She looked up. 
 
 It was Mademoiselle Bourienne, in a black dress trimmed 
 with white. She had softly approached the Princess Mariya, 
 kissed her with a* sigh, and immediately burst into tears. 
 The princess looked at her. All her previous . collisions with 
 her, her jealousy of her, came back to her remembrance ; she 
 also remembered how he of late had changed toward Mad- 
 emoiselle Bourienne, could not even bear to see her, and 
 consequently how unjust had been the reproaches with which 
 the Princess Mariya had loaded her. " Yes, and can I, I who 
 have just been wishing for his death, can I judge any one 
 else ? " she asked herself. 
 
 The Princess Mariya had a keen sense of Mademoiselle Bou- 
 rienne's trying situation, held by her at a distance, and yet at 
 the same time dependent upon her, and dwelling under a stran- 
 ger's roof. And she began to feel a pity for her. She looked 
 at her with a sweet, questioning look, and stretched out her 
 hand. Mademoiselle Bourienne immediately had a fresh par- 
 oxysm of tears, began to kiss the princess's hand, and to speak 
 of the affliction that had come upon her, and claimed to be a 
 sympathizer in that affliction. She declared that her only 
 consolation in this sorrow was that the princess allowed her 
 to share it with her. She said that all their previous mis- 
 understandings ought to be forgotten in presence of this terri- 
 ble loss, fhat she felt that her conscience was clear before all 
 men, and that he from above would bear witness to her love 
 and gratitude. 
 
 The princess listened to her without comprehending what 
 she was saying, but she looked at her from time to time, and 
 heard the sounds of her voice. 
 
 " Your position is doubly terrible, dear princess," said Mad- 
 emoiselle Bourienne, after a short silence. " I understand how 
 it is that you could not have thought that you cannot 
 think about yourself ; but, from the love which I bear you, I 
 am compelled to do so for you. Has Alpatuitch been to see 
 you ? Has he said anything to you about going away ? " she 
 asked. 
 
 The Princess Mariya made no reply. She could not realize 
 who was going away or where it was.
 
 160 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 " Why undertake anything just now ? Why think of any- 
 thing ? What difference does it make ? " She made no 
 answer. 
 
 " Do you know, chere Marie," asked Mademoiselle Bouri- 
 enne, " do you know that we are in peril, that we are sur- 
 rounded by the French ? It is dangerous to go now. If we 
 were to start, we should almost certainly be taken prisoner, 
 and God knows " 
 
 The Princess Mariya looked at her friend without compre- 
 hending what she was saying. 
 
 " Akh ! if you could only know how little, how little I care 
 now," said she. " Of course, I should never wish such a 
 thing as to go away and leave kirn. Alpatuitch said some- 
 thing to me about going away. Talk it over with him ; I 
 cannot and I will not hear " " 
 
 " I have spoken with him. He hopes that we shall be able 
 to get away to-morrow; but it is my opinion that we had 
 better remain here now," said Mademoiselle Bourienne. 
 " Because you must agree with me, chere Marie to fall 
 into the hands of the soldiers or insurgent peasants would be 
 horrible." 
 
 Mademoiselle Bourienne drew forth from her reticule a 
 proclamation printed on paper different from that used 
 generally in Russia from the French general Rameau, 
 in which the inhabitants were advised not to abandon their 
 homes, since full protection would be vouchsafed them by the 
 French authorities ; this she handed to the princess. 
 
 " I think it would be better to apply to this general," said 
 Mademoiselle Bourienne. " And I am convinced that we 
 should be treated with due consideration." 
 
 The Princess Mariya read the paper, and her face contracted 
 with a sort of tearless sob. 
 
 " From whom did you get this ? " she demanded. 
 
 " They probably knew that I am French from my name," 
 said Mademoiselle Bourienne, with a blush. 
 
 The princess, with the paper in her hand, got up from the 
 window, and with a blanched face left the room, and went 
 into Prince Andrei's cabinet, which adjoined. 
 
 " Dunyasha, summon Alpatuitch, Drdnushka, any one," ex- 
 claimed the Princess Mariya, " and tell Amalie Karlovna not 
 to come near me," she added, hearing Mademoiselle Bouri- 
 enne's voice. " Go quick ! quick ! " exclaimed the Princess 
 Mariya, panic-stricken at the thought that she might be left 
 in the power of the French,
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 161 
 
 " What if Prince Andrei knew that she were under the pro- 
 tection of the French ! That she, the daughter of Prince 
 Nikolai Andreyitch Bolkonsky, had asked General Rameau to 
 grant her his protection, and put herself under obligations for 
 benefits received from him ! " 
 
 The mere suggestion of such a thing filled her with horror, 
 made her shudder, turn red, and feel still more violently than 
 ever before those impulses of anger and outraged pride. 
 
 She now vividly realized all the difficulties, and, above all, 
 the humiliations of her position. 
 
 "They the French will take possession of this house ; 
 M. le general Rameau will make use of Prince Andrei's cabi- 
 net ; for their amusement they will ransack and read his 
 letters and papers. Mademoiselle Bourienne lui fera les hon- 
 neurs de Bogueharovo ! They will out of special favor grant 
 me a sleeping-room ; the soldiers will tear open my father's 
 newly made grave in orcler to rob him of his crosses and stars ; 
 they will boast before me of their victories over the Russians, 
 they will pretend to sympathize in my grief/ 7 thought the 
 Princess Mariya, and these were not her own thoughts, but 
 she felt herself compelled to think as her father and brother 
 would have thought. 
 
 For her personally it was a matter of utter indifference 
 where she staid or what happened to her ; but at the same 
 time she felt that she was the representative of her late father 
 and of Prince Andrei. She could not help thinking these 
 thoughts and feeling these feelings. Whatever they would 
 have said, whatever they would have done, now this she felt 
 that it was indispensable for her to do. She went into Prince 
 Andrei's cabinet, and, in her endeavors to follow out what 
 would be his ideas, she reviewed her position. 
 
 The demands of life, which she had felt had been annihi- 
 lated at the moment of her father's death, suddenly, with new, 
 never-before-experienced violence, rushed up before her, and 
 took possession of her. 
 
 Flushed with excitement, she walked up and down the 
 room, summoning first Alpatuitch, then Mikhail Ivanovitch, 
 then Tikhon, then Dron. Dunyasha, the old nyanya, and all 
 the maids were equally unable to say how far Mademoiselle 
 Bourienne was correct in what she had declared. Alpatuitch 
 was not at home ; he had gone to consult with the authorities. 
 Mikhail Ivanuitch, the architect, on being summoned, came 
 into the Princess Mariya's presence with sleepy eyes, and 
 could tell her absolutely nothing. He replied to her questions 
 VOL. 3. 11.
 
 162 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 with precisely the same non-committal smile with which for 
 fifteen years he had been in the habit of dealing with the old 
 prince, and she could get nothing definite from his replies. 
 
 Then the old valet Tikhon was called, and with a downcast 
 and impassive face, bearing all the symptoms of incurable woe, 
 he replied to all her questions with his " slushayu-s I obey," 
 and could scarcely refrain from sobbing as he looked at her. 
 
 At last the starosta Dron came into the room, and, making 
 her a low obeisance, stood respectfully at the threshold. 
 
 The Princess Mariya glided through the- room and paused 
 in front of him. 
 
 " Dronushka ! " said she, seeing in him an undoubted friend, 
 the same Dronushka who had always brought home pieces of 
 gingerbread with him from his trips to the yarmarka or 
 annual bazaar at Viasma, and presented to her with a smile. 
 " Dronushka ! now, since our sad loss," She began and 
 then paused, unable to proceed. 
 
 "All our goings are under God," said he with a sigh. 
 Neither spoke. 
 
 " Dronushka ! Alpatuitch has gone ; I have no one to turn 
 to ; is it true, what I am told, that we cannot get away ? " 
 
 " Not get away ? Certainly you can get away, princess," 
 said Dron. 
 
 " They tell me there is danger from the enemy. My friend,* 
 I am helpless, I don't understand anything about it, I am 
 entirely alone. I decidedly wish to start to-night or to-morrow 
 morning early." 
 
 Dron made no sound. He looked from under his brows at 
 the princess. 
 
 " No horses," said he at last, " and I have told Yakof Al- 
 patuitch so." 
 
 " How is that ? " demanded the princess. 
 
 " It is God's punishment," said Dron ; " what horses we had 
 have been taken by the troops, and the rest have perished. 
 That's the way it is this year. 'Twouldn't so much matter 
 about feeding the horses, if we ourselves weren't perishing of 
 starvation. Often for three days at a time we go without a 
 bite. We have nothing at all ; we are utterly ruined." 
 
 The Princess Mariya listened attentively to what he said. 
 
 " The peasantry are ruined ? You say they have no corn ? " 
 she asked. 
 
 " They are perishing of famine," said Dron. " And us foi 
 teams " 
 
 * Golubchik.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 163 
 
 " But why haven't you told me of this before, Dronushka ? 
 Can't they be helped ? I will do all in my power " 
 
 It was strange for the Princess Mariya to think that now, 
 at this moment when her heart was filled with such sorrow, 
 there could be poor men and rich, and that the rich did not 
 help the poor. She had a general notion that when the mas- 
 ters had a reserve of corn, it was distributed among the serfs. 
 She knew also that neither her father nor her brother would 
 refuse to help the peasantry in case of need; all that she 
 feared was that she might make some blunder in speaking 
 about this distribution of corn which she was anxious to 
 make. She was glad of some pretext for active work : some- 
 thing that would allow her without pangs of conscience to 
 forget her own sorrow. She proceeded to interrogate Dron- 
 ushka in regard to the necessities of the muzhiks and the 
 store of reserve corn belonging to the estate at Bogucharovo. 
 
 " We have corn belonging to the estate ; have we not, 
 brother ? " she demanded. 
 
 "The master's corn is untouched," said Dron with pride. 
 " Our prince had not ordered it to be sold." 
 
 " Give that to the peasantry ; give them all they need. I 
 grant it in my brother's name," said the Princess Mariya. 
 
 Dron made no reply and drew a long sigh. 
 
 "You give them this corn, if there is enough for them. 
 Give it all to them. I order it in my brother's name, and tell 
 them : ' What is ours is always theirs.' We shall not grudge 
 it for them. Tell them so." ' 
 
 Dron looked steadily at the princess while she was saying this. 
 
 "Discharge me, matushka, for God's sake; order the keys 
 to lie taken from me," said he. " I have been in service for 
 twenty -three years ! I have never done anything dishonest ; 
 discharge me, for God's sake ! " 
 
 The Princess Mariya could not understand what he wanted 
 of her, or why he wished to be relieved of his office. She re- 
 plied that she had never conceived a doubt of his devotion, and 
 that she was always ready to do anything for him or for any of 
 the muzhiks. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 AN hour later Dunyasha came to the princess with the 
 news that Dron was there, and that all the muzhiks had col- 
 lected in accordance with the princess's orders at the granary, 
 and wished to have speech with their mistress.
 
 164 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 " But I never called them," said the Princess Mariya ; " I . 
 merely told Dronushka to give them corn." 
 
 " Then, for God's sake, prmcecs-matushka, order them to 
 disperse and don't go to them. They are deceiving you," ex- 
 claimed Dunyasha. " Yakof Alpatuitck will soon be back, and 
 then we will go and don't you allow " 
 
 " How are they deceiving me ? " asked the princess in 
 amazement. 
 
 " But I am certain of it ! Only heed my words, for God's 
 sake. Just ask nurse here. They declare they will not go 
 away at your orders." 
 
 " You have got it entirely wrong. Besides, I have never 
 ordered them to go away," said the Princess Mariya. "Fetch 
 Dronushka," 
 
 Dron came in and confirmed what Dunyasha said : the 
 muzhiks had assembled at the princess's orders. 
 
 "But I never summoned them," said the princess. "You 
 did not give my message correctly. I only told you to give 
 them corn." 
 
 Dron made no reply ; merely sighed. 
 
 " If you order it they will disperse," said he. 
 
 "No, no, I will go to them," said the princess. 
 
 In spite of the persuasion of Dunyasha and the old nyanya, 
 the Princess Mariya. went down the steps. Dronushka, Dun- 
 yasha, the old nyanya, and Mikhail Ivanuitch followed her. 
 
 " They apparently think that I give them the corn so that 
 they should stay at home, while I myself am going away, 
 abandoning them to the mercy of the French," thought the 
 Princess Mariya. "But I will promise them rations and 
 quarters at our pod-Moskovnaya ; I am sure Andre would do 
 even more in my place," she said to herself as she went 
 toward the throng that had gathered in the twilight on the 
 green near the granary. 
 
 The throng showed some signs of confusion, and moved and 
 swayed a little, and hats were removed as she approached. 
 The Princess Mariya, with downcast eyes, and getting her 
 feet entangled in her dress, went toward them. So many dif- 
 ferent eyes from faces young and old were fixed upon her, and 
 so many different people were collected, that the princess did 
 not distinguish any particular person ; and, as she felt that it 
 was requisite for her to address them all at once, she did not 
 know how to set about it. But once more the consciousness 
 that she was the representative of her father and brother gave 
 her courage, and she boldly began to speak.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 165 
 
 " I am very glad that you came," she began, not raising her 
 eyes, and conscious of her heart beating fast and strong. 
 " Dronushka told me that you were ruined by the war. That 
 is our common misfortune, and I shall spare no endeavor to 
 help you. I myself am going away because it is dangerous 
 here and the enemy are near because I will give you 
 everything, friends, and I beg of you to take all, all our corn, 
 so that you may not suffer from want. And if you have been 
 told that I distribute the corn among you so as to keep you 
 here, that is a falsehood. On the contrary, I beg of you to go 
 with all your possessions to our pod-Moskovnaya, and I will 
 engage and promise that you shall not suffer. You shall be 
 given homes and provisions." 
 
 The princess paused. In the throng sighs were heard, and 
 that was all. 
 
 " I do not give this of myself," continued the princess, " but 
 I do it in the name of my late father, who was a good barin to 
 you, and in behalf of my brother and his son." 
 
 She again paused. No one broke in upon her silence. " Our 
 misfortune is universal, and we will share everything together. 
 All that is mine is yours," said she, gazing at the faces ranged 
 in front of her. 
 
 All eyes were fixed on her with one expression, the signifi- 
 cance of which she could not riddle. Whether it were curios- 
 ity, devotion, gratitude, or fear, or distrust, that expression, 
 whatever it was, was the same in all. 
 
 " Very grateful for your kindness, but we don't want to take 
 the master's corn," said a voice in the rear of the throng. 
 
 " Yes, but why not ? " asked the princess. 
 
 No one replied, and the Princess Mariya, glancing around the 
 throng, observed that now all eyes which met hers immedi- 
 ately turned away. 
 
 " Why are you unwilling ? " she asked again. 
 
 No one replied. 
 
 The Princess Mariya felt awkward at this silence. She tried 
 to catch some one's eye. 
 
 " Why don't you speak ? " demanded the princess, address- 
 ing an aged man, who, leaning on his cane, was standing in 
 front of her. " Tell me if you think that anything else is 
 needed. I will do everything for you," said she, as she caught 
 his eye. But he, as though annoyed by this, hung his head 
 and muttered, 
 
 " Why should we ? We don't want your corn." 
 
 "What ! us abandon everything ? We don't agree to it."
 
 166 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 " We don't agree to it." " Not with our consent." " We are 
 sorry, but it sha'n't be done with our consent." " Go off by 
 yourself alone ! " rang out from the mob on different sides. 
 And again all the faces of the throng had one and the same 
 expression; but this time it was assuredly not curiosity or 
 gratitude, but one of angry, obstinate resolution. 
 
 " Oh, but you have not understood me," exclaimed the Prin- 
 cess Mariya, with a melancholy smile. "Why are you unwill- 
 ing to go ? I promise to give you new homes and feed you. 
 But if you stay here the enemy will ruin you." But her voice 
 was drowned by the voices of the mob. 
 
 "Not with our consent. Let him destroy us. We won't 
 touch your corn. Not with our consent." 
 
 The Princess Mariya tried again to catch the eyes of some 
 other person in the crowd ; but not one was directed toward 
 her : their eyes evidently avoided her. She felt strange, and 
 ill at ease. 
 
 " There, now ! she's a shrewd one. Follow her to prison. 
 They want to get our houses, and make serfs of us again 
 the idea ! We won't touch your corn," rang the various 
 voices. 
 
 The Princess Mariya, hanging her head, left the crowd, and 
 went back to the house. Reiterating her orders to Dron to 
 have the horses ready against their departure the next day, 
 she went to her room and remained alone with her thoughts. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE Princess Mariya sat long that night beside her open 
 window in her room, listening to the hubbub of voices which 
 came up to her from the peasant village ; and yet she was not 
 thinking of them. She felt that the more she thought about 
 them, the less she should understand them. Her mind was 
 concentrated on one thing : her affliction, which now, after the 
 interruption caused by her labors in connection with the 
 present situation, seemed already far in the past. She could 
 now think calmly, could weep, and could pray. 
 
 With the sunset the breeze had died down. The night was 
 calm and cool. By twelve o'clock the voices began to grow 
 still ; a cock crew ; the full moon began to rise up from behind 
 the lindens ; a cool, white dew-mist arose, and peace reigned 
 over the village and over the house. 
 
 One after the other passed before her mind the pictures of
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 167 
 
 the recent past : the illness and the last moments of her father. 
 And, with a melancholy joy, she now dwelt upon these pic- 
 tures, repelling with horror only one : the vision of his death, 
 a thing which she felt wholly unable to contemplate, even in 
 imagination, at that calm, mysterious hour of night. And 
 these pictures came before her with such vividness,' and with 
 such fulness of detail, that they seemed to her now like the 
 reality, and then, again, like something past, or, again, like 
 something that was to come. 
 
 Now she vividly recalled the moment when he received the 
 stroke, and was borne in the arms of his men into the house 
 at Luisiya Gorui, muttering unintelligible words with his dis- 
 obedient tongue, knitting his grizzled brows, and looking anx- 
 iously and timidly at her. 
 
 " Even then, he wanted to tell me what he said on the very 
 day of his death," she said to herself. " What he said to me 
 then was all the time in his mind." 
 
 And then she imagined, with all its details, that night at Luis- 
 iya Gorui, on the evening before the apoplectic stroke, when, 
 with a presentiment of evil, she remained with him against his 
 will. She could not sleep, and she went down late at night pn 
 her tiptoes, and, going to the door of the greenhouse, where 
 her father had tried to sleep that night, had listened to him. 
 He was talking to Tikhon in a peevish, weary voice. He was 
 telling him something about the Crimea, about the genial 
 nights, about the empress. He was evidently in a talkative 
 mood. 
 
 " And why did he not call me ? Why did he not allow me 
 then to take Tikhon's place ? " 
 
 She asked herself that question then, and again she asked 
 it now. " He was never one to confide in any one what he 
 kept locked up in the chambers of his heart. And now never 
 again for him and for me will return that moment when he 
 might say all he wished to say, and then I, and not Tikhon, 
 might have listened and understood him. Why did I not go 
 in where he was ? " wondered the Princess Mariya. " Maybe 
 even then he would have told me what he said on the day of 
 his death. While he was talking with Tikhon he twice asked 
 about me. He wished to see me, and there I was standing at 
 the door. He found it tiresome and stupid to talk with Ti- 
 khon, for he could not understand him. I remember how he 
 spoke with him about Liza, as though she were still alive, 
 he had forgotten that she was dead, and Tikhon reminded 
 him that she nad passed away, and he cried, ' Durak idiot ! T
 
 168 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 It was hard for him. As I stood outside I heard him groan, 
 and lie down on the bed and cry aloud, ' My God ! ' Why 
 didn't I go in then and there ? What would he have done to 
 me ? What trouble might I not have made ? Perhaps even 
 then he would have been comforted ; perhaps he would have 
 called me - what he did." And the princess repeated aloud 
 the caressing word which he had spoken to her on the day of his 
 death : " Diishenka," Dear heart, " Dii-shen-ka," repeated 
 the princess, and she burst into tears that lightened the sor- 
 row of her soul. 
 
 Now she saw his face plainly before her : and not that face 
 which she had known ever since her earliest remembrance, 
 and which she; had always seen afar off, as it were, but that 
 weak, submissive face which she, for the first time in her mem- 
 ory, as she bent down close to it to catch the last words that 
 fell from his mouth, saw near at hand with all its wrinkles 
 and details. 
 
 " Drfshenka ! " she repeated. 
 
 " What thoughts were in his mind when he said that word ? 
 What is lie thinking now ? " 
 
 That question suddenly occurred to her, and for answer to it 
 she seemed to see him before her with that same expression 
 of face which he had worn in his coffin with the white hand 
 kerchief binding up his face. And that horror which had 
 seized her then, when she had touched him, and then felt so 
 assured that this thing not only was not he, but something 
 mysterious and repulsive, came over her again. She tried 
 to think of something else, she tried to pray, and she could 
 do neither. With wide, staring eyes she gazed at the moon- 
 light and at the shadows, every instant expecting to see his 
 dead face, and she felt that the silence that hung over the 
 house and in the house was turning her to stone. 
 
 " Dunyasha ! " she whispered. " Dimyasha ! " she cried, in 
 a wild voice, and, tearing herself away from the silence, she 
 ran into the domestics' room, meeting the old nyanya and the 
 women, who came to meet her at her cry. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 ON the twenty-ninth of August Rostof and Ilyin, accompa^ 
 nied only by Lavrushka, just back from his brief captivity, 
 and an orderly sergeant of hussars, set forth from their biv- 
 ouac at Yankovo, fifteen versts from Bogucharovo, to make
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 169 
 
 trial of a new horse which Ilyin had recently purchased, and 
 to find whether there was any fodder in the villages round 
 about. 
 
 Bogucharovo, during the last three days, had been midway 
 between two hostile armies, so that it was just as likely to be 
 occupied by the Russian rearguard as by the French van- 
 guard ; and consequently, Rostof, like the thoughtful squadron 
 commander that he was, conceived the notion of taking pos- 
 session of the provisions at Bogucharovo in anticipation of 
 the French. 
 
 Rostof and Ilyin were in the most jovial mood. On the way 
 to Bogucharovo, to the princely estate and farm where they 
 hoped to find a great throng of domestics and pretty young 
 girls, they now questioned Lavrushka about Napoleon, and 
 made merry over his tale, and then they ran races to test 
 Ilyin's horse. 
 
 Rostof had not the slightest notion that this village where 
 he was bound was the estate of that very same Bolkonsky who 
 had been betrothed to his sister. 
 
 He and Ilyin made a final spurt in trial of their horses 
 down the slope in front of Bogucharovo, and Rostof, outriding 
 Ilyin, was the first to enter the street of the village. 
 
 " You got in first ! " cried Ilyin, growing red in the face. 
 
 " Yes, always ahead, not only on the level, but here also," 
 replied Rostof, smoothing the flank of his foam-flecked Donets. 
 
 " And I on my Franzuska, your illustriousness," exclaimed 
 Lavrushka, coming up behind them on his cart-jade, which he 
 called " Franzuska," or " Frenchy," in honor of his adventure. 
 " I'd ha' come in first only I didn't want to mortify you." 
 
 They rode at a foot-pace up to the granary, near which a 
 great crowd of muzhiks were gathered. 
 
 Some of them took off their caps ; some, not taking off their 
 caps, gazed at the new-comers. Two lank muzhiks, with 
 wrinkled faces and thin .beards, came out from the public- 
 house, reeling, and trolling some incoherent snatch of a song, 
 and approached the officers. 
 
 " Say, my hearties," sung out Rostof, with a laugh, " have 
 you any hay ? " 
 
 " Like as two peas," exclaimed Ilyin. 
 
 " We're jo-ol-ly g-oo-d f-fel-el-lo-ows," sang one of the men, 
 with an effusively good-natured smile. 
 
 A muzhik came out of the throng and approached Rostof. 
 
 " Which side are you from ? " he asked. 
 
 " The French," replied Rostof, jokingly, with a smile,
 
 170 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 " And that's Napoleon himself," he added, pointing to Lav- 
 rushka. 
 
 " Of course, you're Russians, ain't you ? " asked the muzhik. 
 
 "Is there a large party of you?" asked another, a little 
 man, who also joined them. 
 
 " Ever so many," replied Eostof. " And what brings you 
 all together here," he added. " A holiday festival ? " 
 
 " The elders have collected for communal business," replied 
 the muzhik who first came out. 
 
 At this time two women and a man in a white hat made 
 their appearance on the road from the mansion, coming 
 toward the officers. " The one in pink is mine ! Don't dare 
 cheat me of her ! " exclaimed Ilyin, catching sight of Dun- 
 yasha coming resolutely toward him. 
 
 " She shall be yours," replied Lavrushka, with a wink. 
 
 " What do you want, my beauty ? " asked Ilyin, with a j 
 smile. 
 
 " The princess has sent to ask what is your regiment and 
 your name." 
 
 " I am Count Eostof, squadron commander, and I am your | 
 humble servant." 
 
 " De-e-ev-lish jo-ol-ly g-ga-gals," sang one of the drunken 
 muzhiks, with a jovial grin, and giving Ilyin a meaning look, 
 as he stood talking with the maid. Dunyasha was followed i 
 by Alpatuitch, who, at some distance, took off his hat in 
 Eostof's presence. 
 
 "I make bold to trouble your nobility," said he, politely, ; 
 but manifesting a certain scorn of the officer's youthful appear- 
 ance, and placing his hand in the breast of his coat. "My 
 mistress, the daughter of Greneral0<7&0/*, the late Prince 
 Nikolai Andreyevitch Bolkonsky, who died on the twenty- 
 seventh instant, finds herself in difficulty on account of the 
 insubordination and boorishness of these individuals here " 
 he pointed to the muzhiks "and she begs you to confer with 
 her if it would not be asking too much," said Alpatuitch, 
 with a timid smile, " if jou would come a few steps farther 
 and besides it is not so pleasant in presence of" He 
 indicated the two drunken muzhiks, who were circling round 
 them and in their rear like gadflies round a horse. 
 
 " Hey ! Alpatuitch Hey ! Yakof Alpatuitch " - " Ser'ous . 
 shing ! 'Sense us ! Ser'ous shing ! " " 'Sense us, for Christ's 
 sake ! Hey ! " said the muzhiks, leering at him. Eostoi 
 looked at the drunken muzhiks, and smiled. 
 
 " Or perhaps this amuses your illustriousness ? " suggested
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 171 
 
 Alpatuitch, with a sedate look, and indicating the old men 
 with his other hand the one not in the breast of his coat. 
 
 "No, there's no amusement in that," said Kostof, and started 
 off. "What is the trouble ? " he asked. 
 
 " I make bold to explain to your illustriousness, that these 
 coarse peasants here are not willing that their mistress should 
 leave her estate, and they threaten to take her horses out ; 
 and though everything has been packed up since morning, her 
 illustriousness can't get away." 
 
 " Incredible ! " cried Kostof. 
 
 " I have the honor of reporting to you the essential truth," 
 maintained Alpatuitch. 
 
 Kostof dismounted, and, throwing the reins to his orderly, 
 went with Alpatuitch to the house, questioning him on the 
 state of affairs. In point of fact, the offer of corn which the 
 princess had made to the muzhiks the evening before, her 
 explanations to Dron and to the meeting, had made affairs so 
 much worse that Dron had definitively laid down his keys, and 
 taken sides with the peasantry, and had refused to obey Alpa- 
 tuitch's summons ; and that morning, when the princess had 
 ordered to have the horses put in so as to take her departure, 
 the muzhiks had gone in a regular mob to the granary, and 
 sent a messenger declaring that they would not allow the prin- 
 cess to leave the village, that orders had come not to leave and 
 they should unharness the horses. Alpatuitch had gone to 
 them, and reasoned with them, but they had replied Karp 
 being their spokesman for the most part Dron did not show 
 himself at all that it was impossible to let the princess take 
 her departure, that there was a law against it : " only let her 
 stay at home, and they would serve her as they always had 
 done, and obey her in everything." 
 
 At the moment that Rostof and Ilyin had come spurring up 
 the avenue, the Princess Mariya, in spite of the dissuasion of 
 Alpatuitch, the old nyanya, and her women, had given orders 
 to have the horses put in, and had made up her mind to start ; 
 but when the coachmen saw the cavalrymen galloping up, 
 they took them for the French, and ran away ; and wailing 
 and lamentations of women were heard in the house. 
 
 " Batyushka ! " " Blessed father ! " - " God has sent you," 
 were the words of welcome that met him, as Kostof passed 
 through the anteroom. 
 
 The Princess Mariya, entirely bewildered and weak with 
 fright, was sitting in the drawing-room when Kostof was 
 brought in to her. She had no idea who he was and why he
 
 172 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 was there and what was going to become of her. When she 
 saw his Russian face, and recognized by his manner and the 
 first words he spoke that he was a man of her own walk in life, 
 she looked at him with her deep, radiant eyes, and began to 
 speak in broken tones, her voice trembling with emotion. 
 
 Rostof immediately found something very romantic in this 
 adventure. " An unprotected maiden, overwhelmed with grief, 
 left alone to the mercy of rough, insurgent muzhiks ! And 
 what a strange fate has brought me here ! " thought Rostof, 
 as he listened to her and looked at her. "And what sweetness 
 and gratitude in her features and her words ! " he said to him- 
 self, as he listened to her faltering tale. 
 
 When she related all that had taken place on the day after 
 her father's obsequies, her voice trembled. She turned aside, 
 and then, as though she were afraid Rostof would take her 
 words to be an excuse for rousing his pity, she glanced at him 
 with a timidly questioning look. 
 
 The tears stood in Rostof's eyes. The Princess Mariya 
 observed it, and she looked gratefully at him with those bril- 
 liant eyes of hers, which made one forget the plainness of her 
 face. 
 
 "I cannot tell you, princess, how happy I am at the chance 
 that brought me here, and puts me in position to show you 
 how ready I am to serve you," said Rostof, rising. " You can 
 start immediately, and I pledge you my word of honor that no 
 one shall dare to cause you the slightest unpleasantness, if you 
 will only permit me to serve as your escort," and, making her 
 a courtly bow such as are made to ladies of the imperial blood, 
 he went to the door. By the courtliness of his tone, Rostof 
 seemed to show that, in spite of the fact that he should con- 
 sider it an honor to be acquainted with her, he would not 
 think of taking advantage of her hour of misfortune to inflict 
 his acquaintance upon her. 
 
 The Princess Mariya understood and appreciated this deli- 
 cacy. 
 
 " I am very, very grateful to you," said she, in French. 
 "But I hope that this was merely a misunderstanding, and 
 that no one is to blame for it " She suddenly broke down. 
 " Forgive me," said she. 
 
 Rostof once more made a low obeisance, and left the room 
 with an angry scowl. 

 
 WAR AND PEACE. 17; 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 " WELL, now, pretty ? ah, brother, my pink one's a beauty 
 and her name is Dunyasha " 
 
 But as he glanced into Rostof s face Ilyin held his tongue. 
 He saw that his hero and commander had come back in an 
 entirely dii'ferent frame of mind. 
 
 Rostof gave Ilyin a wrathful glance, and, without, deigning 
 to give him any answer, he strode swiftly down to the village. 
 
 " I will teach them ! I'll give it to those cut-throats," he 
 muttered to himself. 
 
 Alpatuitch, with a sort of swimming gait that was just 
 short of running, found it hard to overtake him. 
 
 " What decision have you been pleased to come to ? " he 
 asked, at last catching up with him. Rostof halted and, doub- 
 ling his fists, made a threatening movement toward Alpatuitch 
 suddenly. 
 
 " Decision ? What decision ? You old dotard ! " cried he. 
 " What are you staring at ? Ha ? The muzhiks are in 
 revolt and you can't bring them to terms ? You yourself are 
 ;a traitor ! I know you. I'll take the hide off you, the whole of 
 you " And, as though afraid of wasting the reserve fund of 
 his righteous wrath, he left Alpatuitch and hastened forward. 
 
 Alpatuitch, evidently crushing down his sense of injured 
 innocence, hastened after Rostof with that swimming gait of 
 his, and continued to give him his opinions in regard to the 
 matter. He declared that the muzhiks had got themselves 
 into such a state of recalcitrancy, that at the present moment 
 it would be imprudent to contrarize them, unless one had a 
 squad of soldiers, so that it would be better to send after the 
 soldiers first. 
 
 "I'll give them a squad of soldiers I'll show how to con- 
 trarize them," replied Rostof, not knowing what he was say- 
 ing, and breathing hard from his unreasoning, keen indignation 
 and the necessity which he felt of expressing this indignation. 
 With no definite plan of action he rushed with strong, reso- 
 lute steps straight at the mob. 
 
 And the nearer he approached it, the more firmly convinced 
 grew Alpatuitch that this imprudent action of his might lead 
 to excellent results. The muzhiks in the throng felt the same 
 thing as they saw his swift, unswerving movements and his 
 resolute, scowling face.
 
 174 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 After the hussars had entered the village and Rostof had 
 gone to see the princess, a certain perplexity and division of 
 counsels had prevailed among the peasantry. It began to be 
 bruited among them that these visitors were Russians, and 
 some of the muzhiks declared that they would be angry 
 because their baruishnya was detained. Dron was of this 
 opinion, but as soon as he had so expressed himself, Karp and 
 the other muzhiks attacked their former starosta. 
 
 " How many years have you been getting your belly full out 
 of this commune ? " cried Karp. " It's all the same to you. 
 You'll dig up your pot of money and be off ! What do you 
 care whether they burn up our houses or not ? " 
 
 " The .order was to keep good order : no one to go from their 
 homes and not carry off the value of a speck o' dust and 
 there she goes with all she's got," cried another. 
 
 " 'Twas your son's turn, but you were too soft on your young 
 noodle," suddenly exclaimed a little old man, pitching into 
 Dron. " But they shaved my Vanka. Ekh ! we shall die ! " 
 
 " Certainly we shall die ! "' 
 
 "I'm not quit of the commune yet," said Dron. 
 
 " Of course you're not. You've filled your belly, though ! " 
 
 Then two long, lank muzhiks said their say. As soon as 
 Rostof, accompanied by Ilyin, Lavrushka, and Alpatuitch, drew 
 near the mob, Karp, thrusting his fingers in his belt, and 
 slightly smiling, came forward. Dron, on the contrary, got 
 into the rear ranks, and the throng crowded closer together. 
 
 " Hey ! Which of you is the starosta here ? " cried Rostof, 
 coming up to the mob with swift strides. 
 
 " The starosta ? What do you want of him ? " asked Karp. 
 
 But before he had a chance to utter another word his cap 
 flew off, and he was sent reeling with a powerful blow. 
 
 " Hats off, you traitors ! " cried Rostof in a stentorian voice. 
 " Where is the starosta ? " he thundered in a frenzied voice. 
 
 " The starosta, he wants the starosta. Dron Zakaruitch 
 you ! " was spoken by various officiously submissive voices, 
 and every hat was doffed. 
 
 " We should never think of rebelling ; we preserve order," 
 insisted Karp, and several voices in the rear ranks at the same 
 instant suddenly shouted : 
 
 " It was what the council of elders decided ; we have to 
 obey " 
 
 " Do you dare answer back ? Mob ! cut-throats ! trai- 
 tors ! " sung out Rostof, beside himself with rage and in an 
 unnatural voice, while he seized Karp by the collar. " Bind 

 
 WAR AND PEACE. 175 
 
 him ! Bind him ! " he cried, though there was no one to 
 execute his orders except Lavrushka and Alpatuitch. 
 
 Lavrushka, however, sprang forward and seized Karp by 
 the arms from behind. " Do you wish us to summon ours 
 from below ? " he cried. 
 
 Alpatuitch turned to' the muzhiks, calling two by name, to 
 bind Karp's arms. These muzhiks submissively stepped forth 
 from the throng and began to unfasten their belts. 
 
 " Where is the starosta ? " cried Eostof. 
 
 Dron. with a pale and frowning face, stood out. 
 
 "You the starosta ? Bind him, Lavrushka," cried Eostof, 
 as though it were impossible for this command to meet with 
 resistance. And, in point of fact, two other muzhiks began 
 to bind Dron, who, in order to facilitate the operation, took off 
 his girdle and handed it to them. 
 
 " And see here do you all obey me ! " Eostof had turned 
 to the muzhiks. " Disperse to your homes instantly, and 
 don't let me hear a word from one of you ! " 
 
 " Come, now ! we hain't done no harm ! " " We've only been 
 acting silly." " Made fools of ourselves, that's all." "I 
 said there wasn't no such orders," said various voices, re- 
 proaching each other. 
 
 " That's what I told you," said Alpatuitch, re-assuming his 
 rights. " 'Twasn't right of you, boys." 
 
 Our foolishness, Yakof Alpatuitch," replied the voices, 
 and the crowd immediately began to break up and scatter to 
 their homes. 
 
 The two muzhiks, with their arms bound, were taken to the 
 master's house.* The two drunken men followed. 
 
 Ekh ! now I get a good look at you ! " said one of them, 
 addressing Karp. 
 
 How could you, with your betters in that way ? What 
 were you thinking of ? Durak ! idiot ! " exclaimed the other. 
 " Truly you were an idiot ! " 
 
 Inside of two hours the teams were ready in the dvor of 
 the Bogucharovo mansion. The men were zealously lugging 
 out and packing up the master's belongings, and Dron, at the 
 princess's intercession let out of the shed where he had been 
 locked up, directed the muzhiks at their work. 
 
 " Don't pack that away so clumsily," said one of the mu- 
 zhiks, a tall man, with a round, smiling face, taking a casket 
 from the hands of a chambermaid. " You see, that must 'a' 
 cost summat ! Don't sling it in that way, or poke it under a 
 
 clvor,
 
 176 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 pile of rope why, it'll get spoiled ! I don't like it that 
 way. Lot everything be done neat, according to law ! There, 
 that's the way under this mat, and tuck hay round it. 
 That's the way to do it ! " 
 
 " Oh, these books ! these books ! " exclaimed another mu- 
 zhik, bending under the weight of the bookcases from Prince 
 Andrei's library. " Don't you touch them ! Heavy, I tell you, 
 boys ! healthy lot of books ! " 
 
 " Yes, that man kept his pen busy, and didn't gad much," 
 said the tall, moon-faced muzhik, winking significantly, and 
 pointing to some lexicons lying on top. 
 
 Rostof, not wishing to impose his acquaintance upon the j 
 princess, did not return to her, but remained in the village, 
 waiting for her to pass on her way. Having waited until the 
 Princess Mariya's carriages had left the house, Rostof mounted 
 and accompanied her on horseback along the highway occu- 
 pied by our troops for a dozen versts. 
 
 At Yankovo, where his 'bivouac was, he politely took leave 
 of her, and for the first time permitted himself the liberty of | 
 kissing her hand. 
 
 " Ought you not to be ashamed of yourself ! " replied Ros- 
 tof, reddening, as the Princess Mariya expressed her gratitude 
 for his having saved her for so she spoke of what he had 
 done. " Any policeman * would have done as much. If we 
 had only peasants to fight with, we should not have let the 
 enemy advance so far," said he, feeling a twinge of shame, and 
 anxious to change the topic. " I am only delighted that this 
 has given me a chance of making your acquaintance. Farewell, 
 prashcha'ite, princess. I wish you all happiness and conso- 
 lation, and I hope that we shall meet under more favorable cir- 
 cumstances. If you wish to spare my blushes, please do not 
 thank me." 
 
 But the princess, if she did not thank him further in word, 
 could not help expressing her gratitude in every feature of 
 her face, which fairly beamed with recognizance and gentle- 
 ness. She could not believe him when he said that she had 
 nothing for which to thank him. On the contrary, it was be- 
 yond question that if it had not been for him, she would have 
 been utterly lost either at the hands of the insurgent peas- 
 ants, or the French ; that he, in order to rescue her, had 
 exposed himself to the most palpable and terrible peril ; and 
 still less was it a matter of doubt that he was a man of high, 
 
 * StanovOi.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 177 
 
 noble spirit, capable of realizing her position and misfortune. 
 His kindly, honest eyes, which had filled with sympathetic 
 tears when she herself was weeping, and seemed to speak with 
 her about her loss, she could not keep out of her thoughts. 
 
 When she bade him farewell, and was left alone, the Prin- 
 cess Mariya suddenly felt her eyes fill with tears, and then, it 
 seemed not for the first time, the strange question came into 
 her mind, " Did she love him ? " 
 
 During the rest of the journey to Moscow, though her posi- 
 tion was far from agreeable, the princess, as Dunyasha, who 
 rode with her in the carriage, more than once observed, looked 
 out of the window and smiled, as though at pleasant-melan- 
 choly thoughts. 
 
 " Well, supposing I did fall in love with him," mused the 
 Princess Mariya. 
 
 Shameful as it was for her to acknowledge to herself that 
 she fell in love at first sight with a man who, perhaps, might 
 never reciprocate her love, ctill she comforted herself with 
 the thought that no one would ever know it, and that she 
 would not be to blame if, even to the end of her life, she, 
 without ever telling any one, loved this man whom she loved 
 for the first time and the last. 
 
 Sometimes she recalled his looks, his sympathetic interest, 
 his words, and happiness seemed to her not out of the bounds 
 of the possible. And it was at such times that Dunyasha 
 observed that she smiled as she gazed out of the carriage win- 
 dow. 
 
 " And it was fate that he should come to Bogucharovo, and 
 at such a time ! " said the Princess Mariya. " And it was fate 
 that his sister should jilt Prince Andrei ! " And in all this 
 the Princess Mariya saw the workings of Providence. 
 
 The impression' made upon Kostof by the Princess Mariya 
 was very agreeable. When his thoughts recurred to her, hap- 
 piness filled his heart, and when his comrades, learning of his 
 adventure at Bogucharovo, joked him because, in going after 
 hay, he had fallen in with one of the richest heiresses of 
 Russia, Rostof lost his temper. He lost his temper for the 
 very reason that the idea of marrying the princess, who had 
 impressed him so pleasantly, and who had such an enormous, 
 property, had more than once, against his will, occurred to 
 him. As far as he personally was concerned, he could not 
 wish a better wife than the Princess Mariya. To marry her 
 would give great delight to the countess, his mother, and would 
 help him to extricate his fathers affairs from their wreck** 
 VOL. 3. 12.
 
 178 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 and then, again, Nikolai felt this, it would be for the Prin- 
 cess Mariya's happiness. 
 
 But Sonya ? And his plighted troth ? And that was the 
 reason Rostof grew angry when they joked him about the 
 Princess Bolkonskaya. 
 
 CHAPTEE XV. 
 
 HAVING accepted the command of the armies, Kutuzof 
 remembered Prince Andrei, and sent word to him to join him 
 at headquarters. Prince Andrei reached Tsarevo-Zai-mishche 
 on the very day and at the very time when Kutuzof was mak- 
 ing his first review of the troops. 
 
 He stopped in the village, at the house of a priest, in front 
 of which the chief commander's carriage was standing, and 
 took his seat on the bench in front of the door, waiting for 
 his " serene highness,'' * as every one now called Kutuzof. 
 From the field back of the village came the sound of martial 
 music, then the roar of a trem ^ndous throng of men shouting 
 " Hurrah ! Hurrah ! " in honor of the commander-in-chief. 
 
 A dozen steps or so from Prince Andrei stood a couple of 
 Kutuzof's servants the courier and his house-steward, 
 profiting by the prince's absence and the beautiful weather to 
 come out to the-gates. 
 
 A dark-complexioned little lieutenant-colonel of hussars, 
 with a portentous growth of mustache and side-whiskers, came 
 riding up to the gates, and, seeing Prince Andrei, asked if his 
 serene highness lodged there, and if he would soon return. 
 
 Prince Andrei replied that he was not a member of his 
 serene highness's staff, and had, likewise, only just arrived. 
 
 The lieutenant-colonel turned to the spruce-looking denshchik 
 with the same question ; and the chief commander's denshchik 
 answered him with that contemptuous indifference with which 
 the servants of commanders-iii-chief are apt to treat under- 
 officers. 
 
 " What ? His serene highness ? Likely to be here before 
 long. What do you want ? " 
 
 The lieutenant laughed in his mustaches at the denshchik's 
 tone, dismounted from his horse, gave the bridle to his orderly, 
 and joined Bolkonsky, making him a stiff little bow. Bolkon- 
 sky made room for him on the bench. The officer of hussars 
 sat down next him. 
 
 Svietletshfi,
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 179 
 
 "So you're waiting for the commander-in-chief too, are 
 you ? " asked the lieutenant-colonel. " He's weported to be 
 vewy accessible ! Thank God for that ! That was the twouble 
 with those sausage-stuffers. There was some weason in Yer- 
 molof asking to be weckoned as a German. Now pe'w'aps we 
 'Ussians may have something to say about things now. The 
 devil knows what they've been doing ! Always wetweating 
 always wetweating ! Have you been making the campaign ? " 
 he asked. 
 
 " I have had that pleasure," replied Prince Andrei. " Not 
 only have I taken part in the retreat, but I have lost thereby 
 all that I hold dear, to say nothing of my property and the 
 home of my ancestors, my father, who died of grief. I am 
 Smolensk." 
 
 " Ah ? Are you Pwince Bolkonsky ? Wight glad to make 
 your acquaintance : Lieutenant-Colonel Denisof, better 
 known as Vaska," said Denisof, shaking hands with Prince 
 Andrei, and looking with a peculiarly gentle expression into 
 .lis face. " Yes, I heard about it," said he sympathetically ; 
 and, after a short pause, he continued, " And so this is Scy- 
 thian warfare. It's all vewy good except for those whose 
 "vribs are bwoken. And you are Pwince Andrei Bolkonsky ? " 
 He shook his head. " Vewy, vewy glad, pwince, vewy glad to 
 make your acquaintance," he repeated for the second time, 
 squeezing his hand. 
 
 Prince Andrei had known from Natasha that Denisof was her 
 first suitor. This recollection, at once sweet and bitter, brought 
 back to him those painful sensations which of late he had not 
 allowed himself to harbor, but which were always in his heart. 
 E-ecently so many other and more serious impressions like 
 the evacuation of Smolensk, his visit to Luisiya Gorui, the 
 news of his father's death and so many new sensations had 
 been experienced by him that it was some time since he had 
 even thought of his disappointment, and now, when he was 
 reminded of it, it seemed so long ago that it did not affect him 
 with its former force. 
 
 For Denisof, also, the series of recollections conjured up in 
 his mind by Bolkonsky's name belonged to a distant, poetic 
 past, to that time when he, after the supper, and after Natasha 
 \ad sung for him,' himself not realizing what he was doing, 
 Offered himself to a maiden of fifteen ! He smiled from his 
 secollection of that time, and of his love for Natasha, and im- 
 /nediately proceeded to the topic which at the present pas- 
 sionately occupied him to the exclusion of everything eise.
 
 180 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 This was a plan of campaign which, he had developed during 
 the retreat, while on dut} r at the outposts. He had proposed 
 this plan to Barclay de Tolly, and was now bent on proposing 
 it to Kutuzof. The plan was based on the fact that the 
 French line of operations was too widely spread out, and his 
 idea was that, instead of attacking them in front, or, possibly, 
 in connection with offensive attacks at the front, so as to block 
 their road, it was necessary to act against their communica- 
 tions. 
 
 " They can't sustain such a long line. It is impossible ! 
 I'll pwomise to bweak thwough them ; give me five hundwed 
 men and I'll cut my way thwough, twuly. A sort of system 
 of guwillas." 
 
 Denisof had got up in his excitement, and as he lajd his 
 plan before Bolkonsky he gesticulated eagerly. In the midst 
 of his exposition, the acclamations of the military, more than 
 ever incoherent, more than ever diffused and mingled with 
 music and songs, were heard in the direction of the review- 
 grounds. The trampling of horses and shouts were heard in 
 the village. 
 
 " Here he comes," shouted the Cossack guard. Bolkonsky 
 and Denisof went down to the gates, where were gathered a 
 little knot of soldiers, composing the guard of honor, and 
 saw Kutuzof coming down the street, mounted on his little 
 bay cob. A tremendous suite of generals accompanied him ; 
 Barclay de Tolly was riding almost abreast of him. A throng 
 of officers followed them and closed in around them on all 
 sides, shouting " Hurrah ! " 
 
 His adjutants galloped on ahead of him into the yard, 
 Kutuzof impatiently spurring his steed, which cantered along 
 heavily under his weight, and constantly nodding his head 
 and raising his hand to his white cavalier-guard cap, which 
 was decorated with a red I3ancl and without a visor. As he 
 came up to his guard of honor composed of gallant grenadiers. 
 for the most part cavalrymen, who presented arms, he 
 for an instant gazed silently and shrewdly at them with the 
 stubborn look of one used to command, and turned back to 
 the throng of generals and other officers standing around 
 him. Over his face suddenly passed an artful expression ; he 
 shrugged his shoulders with a gesture of perplexity. 
 
 "The idea of retreating, and retreating with such gallant 
 fellows!" said he. "Well, good-by,* general," he added, and 
 turned his horse into the gates, past Prince Andrei and Denisof. 
 
 * Do svidanya.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 181 
 
 "Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!" The acclamations rent 
 the aii' behind him. 
 
 Kutuzof, since Prince Andrei had last seen him, had grown 
 stouter than ever ; he fairly weltered in fat. But the 
 whitened eye, and the wound, and that expression of lassitude 
 in face and figure, which he knew so well, were the same. He 
 was dressed in a military long coat a whip hung by a slen- 
 der ribbon over his shoulder and he wore his white cava- 
 lier-guard shako. Heavily sprawled out and swaying, he sat 
 his little horse. His fiu fiu fiu could be heard almost 
 distinctly as he rode, breathing sharply, into the courtyard. 
 
 His face had that expression of relief which a man shows 
 when he makes up his mind to have a rest after a public 
 exhibition. He extricated his left leg from the stirrup, leaned 
 back with his whole body, and, scowling with the exertion of 
 getting his leg up over the saddle, rested with his knee a 
 moment, and then with a quack like a duck he let himself 
 down into the arms of the Cossacks and adjutants, who were 
 waiting to assist him. 
 
 He straightened himself up, glanced around with blinking 
 eyes, and, catching sight of Prince Andrei, he evidently failed 
 to recognize him, and set out with his clumsy, plunging gait 
 for the steps. Fiu fiu fiu he puffed, and again he glanced 
 at Prince Andrei. The impression made by Prince Andrei's 
 face, though it was reached only after several seconds, as is 
 often the case with old men, at last connected itself with 
 the recollection of who he was. 
 
 " Ah ! good-day, prince, good-day. How are you, my good 
 fellow ? * come with me," he said wearily, glancing round, and 
 beginning heavily to mount the steps, which groaned under 
 his weight. Then he unbuttoned his uniform and sat down 
 on the bench at the top of the steps. 
 
 " Well, how is your father ? " 
 
 "Yesterday I received news of his death," said Prince 
 Andrei abruptly. 
 
 Kutuzof looked at Prince Andrei with startled, wide-opened 
 eyes ; then he took off his cap and crossed himself. 
 
 "The kingdom of heaven be his. God's will be done to us 
 all." 
 
 He drew a deep, heavy sigh and was long silent. " I loved 
 him dearly and I realized his worth, and I sympathize with 
 you with all my heart." 
 
 He embraced Prince Andrei, pressed him to his fat chest 
 * Gohtbchik.
 
 182 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 and held him there long. When at last he released him, 
 Prince Andrei saw that his blubbery lips trembled, and that 
 his eyes were full of tears. He sighed and took hold of the 
 bench with both hands so as to rise. 
 
 " Come, come to my room and let us talk ! " said he, but 
 just at that instant Denisof, who was as little apt to quail 
 before his superiors as before his enemies, strode with jingling 
 spurs to the steps, in spite of the adjutants, who with indig- 
 nant whispers tried to stop him. Kutuzof, still clinging to 
 the bench, gave him a displeased look. 
 
 Denisof, introducing himself, explained that he had some- 
 thing of the greatest importance for the good of the country 
 to communicate to his serene highness. Kutuzof, with his 
 weary look, continued to stare at Denisof, and, with a gesture 
 of annoyance, released his hands and folded them on his belly, 
 repeating : "For the good of the country ? Well, what is it ? 
 Speak ! " 
 
 Denisof reddened like a girl how strange it was to see 
 the blush on the mustachioed, bibulous face of the veteran, 
 and he began boldly to evolve his plan for breaking through 
 the enemy's effective line between Smolensk and Viazma. 
 Denisof's home was in this region, and he was well acquainted 
 with every locality. His plan seemed unquestionably excel- 
 lent, especially owing to the force of conviction which he put 
 into his words. Kutuzof regarded his own legs, and occa- 
 sionally looked over into the dvor or yard of the adjoining 
 cottage, as though he were expecting something unpleasant to 
 appear from there. And in reality from the cottage at which 
 he was looking, during Denisof's speech, emerged a general 
 with a portfolio under his arm. 
 
 " What ? " exclaimed Kutuzof, interrupting Denisof in the 
 midst of his exposition. "Ready so soon ?" 
 
 " Yes, your serene highness," replied the general. Kutuzof 
 shook his head as much as to say, "How can one man have 
 time for all this ? " and went on listening to Denisof. 
 
 "I give my twuest word of honor as a 'Ussian officer," 
 insisted Denisof, " that I will cut off Napoleon's communica- 
 tions." 
 
 " What ! is Kirill Andreyevitch Denisof, Ober-intendant, any 
 relation of yours ? " asked Kutuzof, interrupting him. 
 
 "My own uncle, your serene highness." 
 
 " Oh, we were good friends," exclaimed Kutuzof, jovially. 
 " Very good, very good, my dear.* Stay here at headquar- 
 ters ; we will talk it over to-morrow." 
 
 * Golubchik.
 
 WAR AND PEACE 183 
 
 [Nodding to Denisof, he turned away, and stretched out his 
 hand for the papers, which Konovnitsuin had brought him. 
 
 " Would not your serene highness find it more comfortable 
 to come into the house ? " suggested the officer of the day, in a 
 dissatisfied tone. " It's absolutely essential to look over some 
 plans, and to sign a number of documents." 
 
 An adjutant, appearing at the door, announced that his 
 rooms were all ready. But Kutuzof evidently wanted not to 
 go indoors until he was free. He scowled. 
 
 " No, have a table brought out, my dear ; I'll look at them 
 here," said he. " Don't you go," he added, addressing Prince 
 Andrei. Prince Andrei remained on the steps, and listened to 
 the officer of the day. 
 
 During the rendering of the report, Prince Andrei heard in 
 the passageway the whispering of a woman's voice and the rus- 
 tling of a woman's silken gown. Several times, as he glanced 
 in that direction, he caught sight of a round, ruddy-faced, 
 pretty woman, in a pink dress, and with a lilac silk handker- 
 chief over her head, holding a dish in her hands, and evi- 
 dently waiting for the return of the commander-in-chief. One 
 of Kutuzofs adjutants explained to Prince Andrei in a whis- 
 per that this was the mistress of the house, the pope's wife, 
 who was all ready to offer his serene highness the khleb-sol* 
 Ker husband had already met his highness with the cross at 
 the church, and here she was at home with the bread and salt. 
 
 " Very pretty ! " added the adjutant, with a smile. Kutu- 
 zof looked up on hearing that. He had been listening to the 
 general's report, the principal feature of which was a 
 critique on the position at Tsarevo-Zaimishche, just exactly 
 as he had listened to Denisof, just exactly as he had listened 
 to the discussions at the council on the night before the battle 
 of Austerlitz, seven years previously. It was evident that 
 he listened merely because he had ears, which could not help 
 hearing, although one of them was stuffed full of tarred hemp ; 
 but it was plain that nothing that the general on duty could 
 say could either arouse him or interest him, and that he knew 
 in advance what would be said, and listened only because he 
 had to listen, as he might have to listen to the singing of a 
 Te Deum. 
 
 All that Denisof said was practical and sensible. What the 
 
 general on duty said was still more practical and sensible, 
 
 but it was evident that Kutuzof scorned both knowledge and 
 
 sense, and took for granted that something else was needed to 
 
 * Bread and salt, typical of Russian hospitality.
 
 184 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 decide the matter ; something else, and quite independent of 
 sense and knowledge. 
 
 Prince Andrei attentively watched the expression of the 
 chief commander's face, and the only expression which he 
 could distinguish in it was one of tedium, or of curiosity as to 
 the meaning of a woman's whispering inside the door, and the 
 desire to save appearances. 
 
 It was evident that Kutuzof scorned sense and knowledge, 
 and even the patriotic feeling shown by Denisof, but that he 
 did not scorn them by his own superior sense and knowledge 
 and feeling for he did not try to manifest these qualities, 
 but he scorned them from some other reason. He scorned 
 them because of his advanced age, because of his experience 
 of life. 
 
 The one single disposition which Kutuzof felt called upon to 
 make in connection with this report related to the marauding 
 of the Russian soldiers. The general on duty, on finishing 
 his report, presented to his serene highness, to sign, a paper 
 granting a favorable answer to a proprietor who had peti- 
 tioned for the military authorities to reimburse him for the 
 loss of, his standing oats, which had been taken on requisition. 
 
 Kutuzof smacked his lips and shook his head when he heard 
 about this. 
 
 "Into the stove with it burn it! I tell you, once and 
 for all, my dear," said he, " throw all such things into the 
 fire. Let 'em reap the grain and burn the wood as they need. 
 I don't order it, and I don't allow it, but, if it is done, I can't 
 pay for it. It can't be helped. ' If wood is cut, the chips 
 fly.' " * He glanced once more at the paper. " Oh, German 
 punctilio ! " he exclaimed, shaking his head. 
 
 CHAPTEE XVI. 
 
 "WELL, that is all, is it ? " asked Kutuzof, affixing his name 
 to the last of the documents ; and, rising laboriously, and 
 settling the folds of his white, puffy neck, he went to the door 
 with a cheerful face. 
 
 The pope's wife, with flushed face, grasped for the plate, 
 which, though she had' prepared it so long in advance, she 
 nevertheless failed to present in time. And, with a low obei- 
 sance, she offered the bread and salt to Kutuzof. Kutuzof's 
 eyes twinkled ; he smiled, chucked her under the chin, and 
 said : 
 
 * Kussian proverb. 

 
 WAR AND PEACE. 185 
 
 " What a pretty woman you are ! Thanks, sweetheart ! " * 
 
 He drew out of his trousers pocket a few gold pieces, and 
 laid them in the plate. " Well, then, how are we situated ? " 
 said he, going toward the room reserved for his private use. 
 
 The pope's wife, with every dimple in her rosy face smil- 
 ing, followed him into the chamber. 
 
 An adjutant came to Prince Andrei, as he stood on the 
 steps, and invited him to breakfast. In half an hour he was 
 again summoned to Kutuzof. Kutuzof was sprawled out in an 
 easy-chair, with his uniform coat unbuttoned.. He held a 
 French book in his hand, and, when Prince Andrei came in, 
 he laid it down, marking the place with a knife. This book, 
 as Prince Andrei could see by the cover, was Les Chevaliers 
 du Cygne, a work by Madame de Genlis. 
 
 " Well, now, sit down, sit down here," said K,utuzof. " It's 
 sad, very sad. But remember, my boy, that I am a father to 
 you a second father.'' 
 
 Prince Andrei told Kutuzuf all that he knew about his 
 father's death, and what he had seen at Luisiya Gorui as he 
 passed through. 
 
 " To what to what have they brought us ! " suddenly 
 exclaimed Kutuzof, in an agitated voice, evidently getting 
 from Prince Andrei's story a clear notion of the state in which 
 Russia found herself. 
 
 " Wait a bit ! wait a bit ! " he added, with a wrathful ex- 
 pression, and then, evidently not wishing to dwell on this 
 agitating topic, he went on to say : 
 
 " I have summoned you to keep you with me." 
 
 " I thank your serene highness," replied Prince Andrei, 
 "but I fear that I am not good for staff service," he explained 
 with a smile which Kutuzof remarked. " And chiefly," added 
 Prince Andrei, "I am used to my regiment. I have grown 
 very fond of the officers, and the men, so far as I can judge, 
 are fond of me. I should be sorry to leave my regiment. If 
 I decline the honor of being on your staff, believe me, it is " 
 
 A keen, good-natured, and at the same time shrewdly sar- 
 castic expression flashed over Kutuzof's puffy face. He inter- 
 rupted Bolkonsky. 
 
 " I am sorry. You might have been useful to me ; but you 
 are right, you are right. We don't need men here ! There 
 are everywhere plenty of advisers, but not of men. Our regi- 
 ments would be very different if all the advice-givers would 
 serve in them as you do. I remember you at Austerlitz 
 
 * Golubushka.
 
 186 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 I remember you ; I remember you with the standard," said 
 Kutuzof, and a flush of pleasure spread over Prince Andrei's 
 face at this recollection. Kutuzof drew him close, and stroked 
 his cheek, and again Prince Andrei observed tears in his eyes. 
 Though Prince Andrei knew that tears were Kutuzof 's weak 
 point, and that he was especially flattering to him, and was 
 anxious to express his sympathy for his loss, still Prince Andrei 
 felt particularly happy and gratified at this allusion to Aus- 
 terlitz. 
 
 " Go, and God bless you ! I know, your road is the road 
 of honor." 
 
 He paused. 
 
 " I missed you sadly at Bukarest. I had to send a mes- 
 senger." 
 
 And, changing the conversation, Kutuzof began to talk 
 about the Turkish war and the peace which had been con- 
 cluded. 
 
 " Yes, they abused me not a little," said he, " both for the 
 war and for the peace ; but all came about in time. Tout vient 
 a point a cdui qui sait attendre. There I had just as many 
 advisers as I have here," he went on to say, turning to the 
 counsellors who were evidently his pre-occupation. " Okh ! 
 these counsellors, these counsellors ! " he exclaimed. " If 
 their advice had been taken, we should be still in Turkey, and 
 peace would not have been signed, and the war would not be 
 over yet. Everything in haste, but ' fast never gets far.' If 
 Kamiensky had not died, he would have been ruined. He 
 stormed a fortress with thirty thousand men. There's noth- 
 ing hard in taking a fortress ; it's hard to gain a campaign. 
 And to do that, not to storm and attack, but patience and time 
 are what is required. Kamiensky sent his soldiers against 
 Kushchuk ; and while I employed nothing but time and 
 patience, I took more fortresses than Kamiensky ever did, and 
 I made the Turks feed on horse-flesh." He shook his head. 
 " And the French will do the same. Take my word for it," 
 he exclaimed, growing more animated, and pounding his chest, 
 " if I have anything to do with it, they will be eating horse- 
 flesh too ! " And again his eyes overflowed with tears. 
 
 " Still, you'll have to accept a battle, won't you ? " asked 
 Prince Andrei. 
 
 "Certainly, if every one demands it, there's no help for 
 it. But trust me, my boy.* There are no more powerful 
 fighters than these two, Time and Patience ; they do every
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 187 
 
 thing. But our advisers n'entendent pas de cette oreille, voila 
 le mat ; that's the trouble. They won't see it in that light. 
 Some are in favor, and some are opposed. What's to be done ? " 
 he asked, and waited for an answer. " Yes, what is it you 
 advise doing ? " he repeated, and his eyes gleamed with an 
 expression of deep cunning. " I will tell you what is to be 
 done," he went on to say, when Prince Andrei still refrained 
 from expressing ?ny opinion. " I will tell you what is to be 
 done, and I shall do it. Dans le doute, mon cher" he hesi- 
 tated, " abstiens-toi. When in doubt, don't)" he repeated, 
 after an interval. " Well, good-by, prashchai, my dear boy. 
 Remember that I sympathize with all my heart in your loss, 
 and that to you I am not His Serene Highness nor prince nor 
 commander-in-chief, but a father to you. If you want any- 
 thing, apply directly to me. Good-by, my dear." * 
 
 He again embraced and kissed him. And before Prince 
 Andrei had actually reached the door, Kutuzof drew a long 
 sigh of relief, and had resumed his unfinished novel by 
 Madame de Grenlis, Les Chevaliers du Cygne. 
 
 Prince Andrei could not account to himself for the why or 
 wherefore of it, but it was a fact that after this interview with 
 Kutuzof, he returned to his regiment much relieved as to the 
 general course of affairs, and as to the wisdom of intrusting 
 them to this man whom he had just seen. The more he real- 
 ized the utter absence of all self-seeking in this old man, who 
 seemed to have outlived ordinary passions, and whose intel- 
 lect that is, the power of co-ordinating events and drawing 
 conclusions had resolved itself into the one faculty of 
 calmly holding in check the course of events, the more 
 assured Prince Andrei felt that everything would turn out as 
 it should. 
 
 "There is nothing petty and personal about him. He 
 won't give way to his imaginations ; he won't do anything 
 rash," said Prince Andrei to himself, " but he will listen to 
 all suggestions; he will remember everything; he will have 
 everything in its place ; he will hinder nothing that is useful, 
 and permit nothing that is harmful ; he will remember that 
 there is something more powerful and more tremendous than 
 his will, the inevitable course of events, and he will have 
 the brains to see them ; he will have the ability to realize 
 their significance, and, in view of this significance, he will be 
 sensible enough to see what a small part he himself and his 
 own will have to play in them. But chief of all," thought 
 * Prashchai, golubchik.
 
 188 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 Prince Andrei, " what makes me have confidence in him is 
 that he is Russian, hi spite of his French romance of Madame 
 de Genlis and his French phrases ; because his voice trembled 
 when he exclaimed, f What have they brought us to ? ' and 
 because he sobbed when he declared that he would make them 
 eat horse-flesh." 
 
 It was due to this feeling, which all felt more or less vaguely, 
 that Kutuzof's selection as commander-in-chief, in spite of 
 court cabals, met with such unanimous and general recognition 
 among the people. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 AFTER the sovereign's departure from Moscow, the life in 
 the capital flowed on in its ordinary channels, and the current 
 of this life was so commonplace that it was hard to recall 
 those days of patriotic enthusiasms and impulses, and hard to 
 believe that Russia was actually in peril, and that the mem- 
 bers of the English Club were at the same time " Sons of the 
 Fatherland," and had declared themselves prepared for any 
 sacrifice. 
 
 The only thing that recalled the general spasm of patriotic 
 enthusiasm that had taken place during the sovereign's recent 
 visit to Moscow, was the demand for men and money, which, 
 comh/g now in legal, official form, had to be met, the sacrifice- 
 having once been offered. 
 
 Though the enemy were approaching Moscow, the Mos- 
 covites were not inclined to regard their situation with any 
 greater degree of seriousness : on the contrary, the matter was 
 treated with peculiar lightness, as is always the case with 
 people who see a great catastrophe approaching. 
 
 At such a time, two voices are always heard speaking loudly 
 in the heart of man : the one, with perfect reasonableness, 
 always preaches the reality of the peril, and counsels him to 
 seek for means of avoiding it : the other, with a still greater 
 show of reason, declares that it is too painful and difficult to 
 think about danger, since it is not in the power of man to fore- 
 see everything or to escape the inevitable course of events ; 
 and, therefore, it is better to shut the eyes to the disagreeable, 
 until it actually comes, and to think only of the present. 
 
 When a man is alone, he generally gives himself up to the 
 first voice, but in society, on the contrary, to the second. And 
 this was the case at the present time with the inhabitants of 
 Moscow. -
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 Moscow had not been so gay for a long time as it was that 
 year. Rostopchin's placards, called affiches, or afishki, were 
 read and criticised just as were the couplets of Vasili Lvovitch 
 Pushkin.* On the top of them were represented the picture 
 of a drinking-house and the tapster and Moscovite meshchanin, 
 Karpushka Chigirin, who, having been an old soldier, on hearing 
 that Bonaparte was 'marching upon Moscow, fortified himself 
 with a brimming nog of liquor' in the shop, flew into a passion, 
 heaped every sort of vile epithets upon all the French, stepped 
 forth from the drinking-house, and harangued the crowd col- 
 lected under the eagle. 
 
 At the club, in the corner room, men collected to read these 
 bulletins, and some were pleased when Karpushka made sport 
 of the French and said, " They would swell up with cabbage, 
 burst their bellies with kasha gruel, choke themselves with shchi, 
 that they were all dwarfs, and that a peasant woman would toss 
 three of them at once with a pitchfork" 
 
 Some, however, criticised this tone, and declared that it was 
 rude and stupid. It was reported that Rostopchin had sent 
 the French, and, indeed, all other foreigners, out of Moscow ; 
 that Napoleon had spies and agents among them ; but this 
 story was told merely for the sake of repeating certain sar- 
 donic words which Rostopchin was credited with saying about 
 their destination. These foreigners were embarked on the 
 Volga at Nizhni, and Rostopchin said to them, 
 
 " Rentrez en vous-memes, entrez dans la barque, et n'en faites 
 pas une barque de Charon Creep into yourselves," that is, 
 keep out of sight " creep on board the boat, and try not to let 
 it become a Charon's bark for you." 
 
 It was also reported that the courts of justice had been 
 removed from the city, and here there was a chance given for 
 repeating one of Shinshin's jests, to the effect that for this, at 
 least, Moscow ought to be grateful to Napoleon. 
 
 It was said that Mamonof's regiment would cost him eight 
 hundred thousand, that Bezukhoi was spending still more on 
 his warriors ; but the best joke of all was that the count him- 
 
 * Vasili Lvovitch Pushkin, the uncle of the poet Aleksandr Sergyeyevitch 
 Pushkin, was born at Moscow in April, 1770; served in the body guard in the 
 Izmailovsky regiment till 1797; began to contribute to the Petersburg " Mer- 
 cury," 1793; wrote an immense number of epistles, elegies, fables, epigrams, 
 madrigals, etc. The war of 1812 sent him to Nizhni Novgorod, where he 
 remained till 1815. He died September 1, 1830, about seven years before his 
 more famous namesake was killed. His best known work, " Opdsnui 
 Sosyed A Dangerous Neighbor," has been thrice republished : Munich, 
 1815 ; Leipsic, 1855 ; Berlin, 1859.
 
 190 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 self was going to buckle on his uniform and ride in front of 
 his regiment ; and those who would be in the front to see this 
 great sight would not sell their chances for any money. 
 
 " You have no mercy on any one," said Julie Drubetskaya, 
 picking up and squeezing a bunch of picked lint between her 
 slender fingers covered with rings. 
 
 Julie had determined to leave Moscow the next day, and 
 she was giving her last reception. " Bezukhoi is ridicule, but 
 he is so good, so kind ! What is the pleasure to be so cans- 
 tique ? " 
 
 "Fined!" exclaimed a young man, in a militia-uniform, 
 whcm Julie called " Mon chevalier" and who was going to 
 accompany her to Nizhni. 
 
 In Julie's set, as in many other sets of Moscow society, it 
 had been agreed to speak only in Russian, and those who for- 
 got themselves and made use of French words in conversation, 
 had to pay a fine, which was turned over to the committee of 
 public defence. 
 
 " That's a double fine, for a Gallicism," said a Russian 
 author who was in the drawing-room. " < Pleasure to be ' is 
 not good Russian." 
 
 " You show no mercy upon any one," pursued Julie, paying 
 heed to the author's criticism. 
 
 ( For using the word caustique, I admit my guilt, and will 
 pay my fine for it, and for the pleasure, to tell you the truth, 
 I am ready to pay another fine ; but for Gallicisms I am not 
 to be held answerable," she said, turning to the author. " I 
 have neither the money nor the time to hire a teacher and take 
 Russian lessons, as Prince Golitsuin is doing." 
 
 " Ah, there he is," exclaimed Julie. " Quand on No, no," 
 said she to the militia-man, " do not count that one, I'll say 
 it in Russian : ' When we speak of the sun we see his rays/ " 
 said the hostess, giving Pierre a fascinating smile u We 
 were just talking about you. We were saying that your regi- 
 ment would be really much better than Mamonof's," said she, 
 with one of those white lies so characteristic of society women. 
 
 " Akh ! don't speak to me about my regiment," replied 
 Pierre, kissing the hostess's hand, and taking a chair near her. 
 " I am tired to death of it." 
 
 " But surely you are going to take the command of it your- 
 self ? " asked Julie, shooting a glance of cunning and ridicule 
 at the militia-man. 
 
 The militia-man in Pierre's presence was not so caustique, 
 and his face expressed some perplexity at the meaning ex
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 191 
 
 pressed in Julie's smile. In spite of his absent-mindedness 
 and good humor, Pierre's personality immediately cut short 
 all attempts to make a butt of him in his own presence. 
 
 " No," replied Pierre, with a glance down at his big, portly 
 frame, "I should be too good a mark for the French, and. I 
 am afraid that I could not get on a horse." 
 
 Among those who came up as a subject for gossip in the 
 course of the shifting conversation were the Eostofs. 
 
 "They say their affairs are in a very bad condition," re- 
 marked Julie. " And the count himself is so utterly lacking 
 in common sense ! The Razumovskys wanted to buy his 
 house and his pod-Moskovnaya, and it is still in abeyance. 
 He asks too much." 
 
 "No, I believe the sale was effected a few days ago/' said 
 some one. " Though now it is nonsense for any one to buy 
 property in Moscow." 
 
 ' Why ? " asked Julie. " Do you imagine there is any real 
 danger for Moscow ? " 
 
 " What makes you go away ? " 
 
 " I ? That is an odd question. I am going because, be- 
 eause, well I am going because everybody's going, and 
 because I am not a Joan d'Arc and not an Amazon." 
 
 " There, now, give me some more rags." 
 
 " If he can only economize, he may be able to settle all ' his 
 debts," pursued the militia-man, still speaking of Count 
 Rostof. 
 
 "A good old man, but a very pauvre sire. And why have 
 they been living here so long ? They intended long ago to 
 start for the country. Nathalie, I believe, is perfectly restored 
 to health ? Isn't she ? " asked Julie of Pierre with a mali- 
 cious smile. 
 
 " They are waiting for their youngest son," replied Pierre. 
 " He was enrolled among Obolyensky's Cossacks and was sent 
 to Byelaya Tserkov.* The regiment was ' mobilizing there. 
 But now he has been transferred to my regiment and is 
 expected every day. The count wanted to start long ago, but 
 the countess utterly refused to leave Moscow until her son 
 came." 
 
 " I saw them three days ago at the Arkharofs'. Nathalie 
 has grown very pretty again and was very gay. She sang a 
 romanza. How easy it is for some people to forget every- 
 thing." 
 
 " Forget what ? " asked Pierre impulsively. 
 * White church.
 
 192 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 Julie smiled. " You know, count, that knights like you 
 are to be found only in the romances of Madame de Souza." 
 
 " What sort of knights ? Why, what do you mean ? " 
 asked Pierre, reddening. 
 
 " Oh, fie now ! dear count, cest la fable de tout Moscou. Je 
 vous admire, ma parole d'honneur ! " 
 
 " Fined ! Fined ! " exclaimed the militia-man. 
 
 "Very well, then! It's impossible to talk; how annoying!" 
 
 " Qwest ce qui est la fable de tout Moscou?" asked Pierre, 
 angrily rising to his feet. 
 
 " Oh ! fie ! count. You know ! " 
 
 " I don't know at all what you mean," said Pierre. 
 
 " I know that you and Nathalie were good friends, and con- 
 sequently No, I always liked Viera better. Cette chere 
 Vera ! " 
 
 " Non, Madame" pursued Pierre in a tone of annoyance. 
 "I have never in the slightest degree taken upon myself to 
 play the role of knight to Mile. Rostova, and I have not been 
 at their house for almost a month. But I do not understand 
 the cruelty " 
 
 " Qui s' excuse s' accuse" said Julie, smiling and waving the 
 lint, and, in order to have the last* word herself, she abruptly 
 changed the conversation. "What do you suppose I heard 
 last night ? poor Marie Bolkonskaya arrived in Moscow yes- 
 terday. Have you heard ? She has lost her father ! " 
 
 " Really ? Where is she ? I should like very much to see 
 her," said Pierre. 
 
 " I spent last evening with her. She is going to-day or to- 
 morrow morning with her little nephew to their pod-Moskov- 
 naya." 
 
 " But -what about her ? How is she ? " insisted Pierre. 
 
 " Well, but sad. But do you know who rescued her ? It's 
 a perfect romance ! Nicolas Rostof ! She was surrounded ; 
 they would have killed her ; her people were wounded. He 
 rushed in and saved her " 
 
 " Lots of romances ! " exclaimed the militia-man. " Really 
 this general stampede seems to have been made for providing 
 husbands for all the old maids. Catiche is one, the princess 
 Bolkonskaya two " 
 
 " Do you know, really I think that she is un petit pen 
 amoureuse du jeune homme?" 
 
 " Fined ! Fined ! Fined ! " 
 
 " But really how do you say that in Russian ? "
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 193 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 WHEN Pierre reached home he was handed two of Kostop- 
 chin's bulletins, which had been distributed that very day. 
 
 In the first the count denied having forbidden any one to 
 leave Moscow, and declared that, on the contrary, he was de- 
 lighted to have ladies of rank and merchants' wives leave 
 town. ''Less panic, less gossip!" said the bulletin. "But 
 I assure the inhabitants that the villain will never be in 
 Moscow. 7 ' 
 
 By these words Pierre was for the first time fairly convinced 
 that the French would get to Moscow. 
 
 The second affiche proclaimed that our headquarters were 
 at Viazma, that Count Wittgenstein had beaten the French, 
 but that, as very many of the inhabitants had expressed a 
 desire to arm themselves, there were plenty of weapons for 
 them at the arsenal : sabres, pistols, muskets, which could 
 be bought at the lowest prices. 
 
 The tone of this affiche was not nearly so full of grim 
 humor as those which had been before attributed to the tap- 
 ster Chigirin. Pierre pondered over these bulletins. Evi- 
 dently that threatening storm-cloud which he looked forward 
 to with all the powers of his soul, andwhich at the same time 
 aroused in him involuntary horror, evidently this storm- 
 cloud was drawing near. 
 
 " Shall I enter the military service and join the army, or 
 shall I wait ? " This question arose in his mind for the hun- 
 dredth time. He took a pack of cards which was lying on the 
 table near him and began to lay out a game of patience. 
 
 " If this game comes out," said he to himself as he shuffled 
 the cards, held them in his hand and looked up " if it comes 
 out right, then it means What shall it mean ? " 
 
 Before he had time to decide on what it should mean, he 
 heard at the door of his cabinet the voice of the oldest prin- 
 cess, asking if she might come in. 
 
 "Well, it shall mean that I must join the army," said Pierre 
 to himself. " Come in, come in," he added, replying to the 
 princess. 
 
 Only the oldest of the three princesses the one with the 
 long waist continued to make her home at Pierre's ; the two 
 younger ones were married. 
 
 " Forgive me, mon cousin, for disturbing you," said she, in 
 VOL. 3. 13.
 
 194 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 an agitated voice. " But you see it is high time to reach some 
 decision. What is going to be the outcome of this ? Every- 
 body is leaving Moscow, and the people are riotous. Why do 
 we stay ? " 
 
 "On the contrary, everything looks very propitious, ma 
 cousine," said Pierre, in that tone of persiflage which, in order 
 to hide his confusion at having to play the part of benefactor 
 before the princess, he always adopted in his dealings with 
 her. 
 
 " Yes, everything is propitious ! Certainly a fine state of 
 affairs ! This very day Varvara Ivanovna was telling me how 
 our armies had distinguished themselves. . It brings them the 
 greatest possible honor. But still the servants are exceed- 
 ingly refractory ; they won't obey at all ; my maid why, 
 she was positively insolent ! And before we know it they will 
 be massacring us. It is impossible to go into the streets. 
 But if the French are liable to be here to-day or to-morrow, 
 why should we wait for them ? I ask for only one favor, 
 mon cousin," pleaded the princess. " Give orders to have me 
 taken to Petersburg. Whatever I am, I cannot endure to live 
 under the sway of Bonaparte ! " 
 
 "There, there, ma cousine f Where have you gotten your 
 information ? On the contrary " 
 
 " I will not submit to your Napoleon ! Others may If 
 you do not wish to do this for me " 
 
 " Yes, I will do it. I will give orders immediately." 
 
 The princess was evidently annoyed that she had no one 
 to quarrel with. She sat on the edge of her chair, muttering 
 to herself. 
 
 "Nevertheless, this has been reported to you all wrong," 
 said Pierre. " All is quiet in the city, and there is not the 
 slightest danger. Here, I was just this moment reading." 
 Pierre showed the princess Rostopchin's bulletins. " The count 
 writes that he will be personally responsible for the enemy 
 never entering Moscow." 
 
 " Akh ! this count of yours," exclaimed the princess, angrily. 
 " He's a hypocrite, a rascal ! who has himself been exciting 
 the people to sedition. Wasn't he the one who wrote in these 
 idiotic affiches that, if there was any one found, to take him 
 by the top-knot and drag him to the police office how 
 stupid ! And whoever should take one should have glory and 
 honor. That is a fine way of doing ! Varvara Ivanovna told 
 me that the mob almost killed her because she spoke French." 
 
 " Well, there's something in that. But you take everything
 
 WAR AtfD PEACE. 195 
 
 too much to heart," said Pierre, and he began to lay out his 
 patience. 
 
 His game of patience came out correctly, and yet Pierre did 
 not join the army, but he remained in deserted Moscow, in the 
 same fever of anxiety and indecision and fear, and, at the 
 same time, joy, though he was expecting something horrible. 
 
 Toward evening of the following day the princess took her 
 departure, and Pierre's head overseer came to him with the 
 report that the money required by him for the equipment of 
 his regiment could not possibly be raised except by selling 
 one of his estates. The head overseer explained' to him that 
 such expensive caprices as fitting out regiments would be his 
 ruin. Pierre, with difficulty repressing a smile, listened to 
 the man's despair. 
 
 " Well, sell it, then," he replied. " There's no help for it 
 now. I cannot go back 011 my promise." 
 
 The worse the situation of affairs in general, and his own in 
 particular, the more agreeable it was to Pierre ; the more evi- 
 dent it seemed to him that the long expected catastrophe was 
 drawing near. . Already there was almost none of his acquaint- 
 ances left in town. Julie had gone ; the Princess Mariya had 
 gone. Of near acquaintances only the Eostofs were left ; but 
 Pierre staid away from their house. 
 
 That day, in order to get a little recreation, Pierre drove 
 out to the village of Vorontsovo to see a great air-balloon, 
 which Leppich had built for the destruction of the enemy, and 
 a trial balloon, which was to be let off on the next day. This 
 balloon was not yet ready ; but, as Pierre knew, it had been 
 constructed at the sovereign's desire. The emperor had 
 written to Count Rostopchin as follows, in regard to this 
 balloon : 
 
 " As soon as Leppich is ready, furnish him with a crew for 
 his boat, composed of tried and intelligent men, and send a 
 courier to General Kutuzof to inform him. I have already 
 instructed him concerning the affair. 
 
 " I beg of you to enjoin upon Leppich to be exceedingly 
 careful where he descends for the first time, that he may not 
 make any mistake and fall into the hands of the enemy. It is 
 essential that he should co-operate with the comrnander-in- 
 chief." * 
 
 * " Aussitot que^ Leppich sera pret, compose? lui un equipage pour sa 
 nacelle d'hommes surs et intelliffents et depechez un courrier au general Kou- 
 touzoff pour Ven prevenir. Je Vai instruit de la. chose. Recommandez,je 
 vous prie, a Leppich d'etre bien attentif sur Vendroit ou il dcscendra la pre- 
 miere fo is, pour ne pas se tromper et tie pas tomber dans les mains de I'eiuie- 
 7714. 77 est indispensable qu'il combine ses mouvements avec le general-en-chef."
 
 196 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 On his way home from Vorontsovo, as he was crossing the 
 Bolotnaya Ploshchad, Pierre saw a great crowd collected around 
 the Lobnoye Myesto (place of executions) ; he stopped and got 
 out of his drozhsky. They were watching the punishment of a 
 French cook, charged with being a spy. The flogging had 
 oniy just come to an end, and the executioner was untying 
 from " the mare," or whipping-post, a stout man, with reddish 
 side-whiskers, dressed in blue stockings and a green kamzol, 
 who was piteously groaning. Another prisoner, lean and 
 pallid, was also standing there. Both, to judge by their faces, 
 were French.* Pierre, with a face as scared and pale as that 
 of the lean Frenchman, elbowed his way through the throng. 
 
 " What does this mean ? Who is it ? What have they 
 done ? " he demanded. But the attention of the throng 
 chinovniks, burghers, merchants, peasants, and women in 
 cloaks and furs was so eagerly concentrated on what was 
 taking place on the Lobnoye Myesto that no one replied to 
 him. 
 
 The stout man straightened himself up, shrugged his shoul- 
 ders with a scowl, and, evidently wishing to make a show of 
 stoicism, and not looking around him, tried to put on his 
 kamzol ; but suddenly his lips trembled, and he burst into 
 tears, as though he was angry at himself, just as full-grown 
 men of sanguine temperament are apt to weep. The crowd 
 gave vent to loud remarks as it seemed to Pierre, for the 
 sake of drowning their own sense of compassion. 
 
 " Some prince's cook " 
 
 " Well, Moosioo, evidently Russian sauce goes well with a 
 Frenchman. Set your teeth on edge ? Hey ? " cried a 
 wrinkled law clerk, standing near Pierre, as the Frenchman 
 burst into tears. The law clerk glanced around, expecting 
 applause for his sarcasm. A few laughed, a few continued to 
 gaze with frightened curiosity at the executioner, who was 
 stripping the second. Pierre gave a snort, scowled deeply, 
 and, swiftly returning to his drozhsky, kept muttering to him- 
 self even after he was once more seated. During the transit 
 he several times shuddered, and cried out so loud that the 
 driver asked him : 
 
 " What do you order ? " 
 
 " Where on earth are you going ? " shouted Pierre as the 
 coachman turned down the Lubyanka. 
 
 "You bade me drive to the govenaor-general's," replied the 
 coachman. 
 
 " Idiot ! ass ! " screamed Pierre, berating his coachman as
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 197 
 
 he scarcely ever had been known to do. " I ordered you to 
 drive home, and make haste, you blockhead ! I have got to get 
 off this very day," muttered Pierre to himself. 
 
 Pierre, at the sight of the flogged Frenchmen and the 
 throng surrounding the LoJDnoye Myesto, had come to so defi- 
 nite a decision not to stay another day in Moscow but to join 
 the army immediately, that it seemed to him he had already 
 spoken to his coachman about it, or at least that the coach- 
 man was in duty bound to have known it. 
 
 On reaching home Pierre gave his coachman, Yevstafye- 
 vitch, who knew everything, and could do everything, and 
 was one of the notabilities of Moscow, orders to have his sad- 
 dle-horses sent to Mozhaisk, where he was going that very 
 day to join the army. 
 
 It was impossible to do everything on that one day, how- 
 ever, and accordingly Pierre, on Yevstafyevitch's representa- 
 tion, postponed his departure to the following day, so that 
 relays of horses might be sent on ahead. 
 
 On the fifth of September foul weather was followed by fair, 
 and that day after idinner Pierre left Moscow. In the even- 
 ing, while stopping to change horses at Perkhushkovo, Pierre 
 learned that a great battle had been fought that afternoon. 
 He was told that there at Perkhushkovo the cannon had 
 shaken the ground ; but when Pierre inquired who had been 
 victorious, no one could give him any information. 
 
 This was the battle of Shevardino, which was fought on 
 the fifth of September. 
 
 By daybreak Pierre was at Mozhaisk. All the houses at 
 Mozhaisk were filled with troops ; and at the tavern, in the 
 yard of which Pierre was met by his grooms and coachmen, 
 there were no rooms to be had. All the places were pre- 
 empted by officers. 
 
 In the town and behind the town, everywhere, regiments 
 were stationed- or on the move. Cossacks, infantry, cavalry, 
 baggage wagons, caissons, cannons, were to be seen on all 
 sides. 
 
 Pierre made all haste to reach the front, and the farther he 
 went from Moscow, and the deeper he penetrated into this sea 
 of troops, the more he was overmastered by anxiety, disqui- 
 etude, and a feeling of joy, which he had never before experi- 
 enced. It was somewhat akin to that which he head experi- 
 enced at the Slobodsky palace, at the time of the sovereign's 
 visit, a feeling that it was indispensable to do something 
 and make some sacrifice.
 
 198 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 He now felt the pleasant consciousness that all that consti- 
 tute? the happiness of men the comforts of life, wealth, 
 even fife itself was rubbish, which it was a delight to re- 
 nounce in favor of something else. 
 
 Still Pierre could not account \o himself, and indeed he 
 made no attempt to analyze, for whom or for what the sacrifice 
 of everything, which gave him such a sense of charm, was 
 made. He did not trouble himself with the inquiry for what 
 he wished to sacrifice himself ; the mere act of sacrifice con- 
 stituted for him a new and joyful feeling. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 
 ON the fifth of September was fought the battle at the 
 redoubt of Shevardino ; on the sixth not a single shot was 
 fired on either side ; on the seventh came the battle of Boro- 
 dino. 
 
 For what" purpose and how was it that these battles at 
 Shevardino and Borodino were fought ? Why was the battle 
 of Borodino fought ? Neither for the French nor for the 
 Russians had it the slightest meaning. The proximate result 
 was, and necessarily was, for the Russians an onward step 
 toward the destruction of Moscow a thing that we dreaded 
 more than anything else in the world ; and for the French, 
 an onward step toward the destruction of their entire army 
 a thing that they dreaded more than anything else in the I 
 world. This result was therefore fully to be expected, and 
 yet Napoleon offered battle, and Kutuzof accepted his chal- 
 lenge. 
 
 If the commanders had been gov-erned by motives of reason, 
 it would seem as if it ought to have been clear to Napo- 
 leon that, at a distance of two thousand versts in an enemy's 
 country, to accept a battle under the evident risk of losing a 
 quarter of his army was to march to certain destruction ; and 
 it should have been equally as clear to Kutuzof that, in 
 accepting an engagement, and in likewise risking the loss of 
 half of his army, he was actually losing Moscow. For Kutu- 
 zof this was mathematically demonstrable, just as in a game 
 of checkers, if I have one draught less than my adversary, by 
 exchanging I lose, and, therefore, I ought not to risk the ex- 
 change. 
 
 If my adversary has sixteen checkers, and I have fourteen, 
 then I am only one-eighth weaker than he is ; but when I
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 199 
 
 shall have exchanged thirteen draughts with him, then he 
 becomes thrice as strong as I am. 
 
 Up to the battle of Borodino our forces were to the French 
 in the approximate proportion of five to six, but after the 
 battle, of one to two. That is, before the battle, 100,000 : 
 120,000 ; but after the battle, 50 : 100. And yet the wise and 
 experienced Kutuzof accepted battle. 
 
 Napoleon, also, the leader of genius, as he* was called, 
 offered battle, losing a fourth of his army, and still further 
 extending his line. If it be said that he expected, by the 
 occupation of Moscow, to end the campaign, as he did in 
 the case of Vienna, this theory can be rebutted by many 
 proofs. The historians of Napoleon themselves admit that he 
 was anxious to call a halt at Smolensk ; that he knew the risk 
 he ran in his extended position, and knew that the capture of 
 Moscow would not be the end of the campaign, because he 
 had seen, by the example of Smolensk, in what a state the 
 Russian cities would be left to him, and he did not receive a 
 single response to his reiterated offers for negotiations. 
 
 In offering and accepting the battle of Borodino, Kutuzof and 
 Napoleon both acted contrary to their intentions and their 
 good sense. But the historians have affected to fit to these 
 accomplished facts an ingeniously woven tissue of proofs of 
 the foresight and genius of these commanders, who, of all the 
 involuntary instruments for the execution of cosmic events, 
 were the most totally subject and involuntary. 
 
 The ancients left us examples of historical poems in which 
 the heroes themselves constitute all the interest of the story ; 
 and we cannot yet accustom ourselves to the fact that history 
 of this kind, applied to our own day, is wholly lacking in 
 sense. 
 
 As to the second question 1 : how came the battle of Borodino 
 and the battle of Shevardino, which preceded it, to be fought ? 
 there exists an explanation just as positive and universally 
 known, but absolutely fallacious. All the historians describe 
 the affair as follows : 
 
 The Russian army, in its retreat from Smolensk, sought 
 the most favorable position for a general battle, and found such 
 a position at Borodino. 
 
 The Russians beforehand fortified this position at the left 
 of the road, almost in a right angle from Borodino to Utitsa, 
 the very point where the battle was fought. 
 
 In front of this position, to keep watch of the enemy, a for- 
 tified redoubt was established upon the hill of Shevardino. On
 
 fOO WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 the fifth of September, Napoleon attacked the redoubt, and took 
 it by storm ; September 7, he attacked the entire Russian army, 
 which was then in position on the field of Borodino. 
 
 Thus it is described in the histories ; and yet the whole 
 thing is perfectly wrong, as any one may be easily convinced 
 who will care to investigate the facts. 
 
 The Russians did not seek the most favorable position ; but, 
 on the contrary, in their retreat they passed by many positions 
 which were more favorable than the one at Borodino. They 
 did not halt at any one of these positions, because Kutuzof 
 would not occupy any position that he had not himself selected, 
 and because the popular demand for an engagement was not 
 yet expressed with sufficient force ; and because Milorado- 
 vitch had not come up with the landwehr ; and for many other 
 reasons besides, which are too numerous to mention. 
 
 It is a fact that the former positions were superior in 
 strength, and that the position at Borodino the one where 
 the battle was fought was not only not strong, but was in 
 no respect superior to any other position in the whole Russian 
 empire, such as one might at haphazard point out on the map 
 with a pin. 
 
 The Russians not only did not fortify their position on the 
 field of Borodino, at the left, at a right angle to the road in 
 other words, at the place where the battle took place but, 
 moreover, up till the sixth of September, they never even 
 dreamed of the possibility of a battle taking place there. 
 
 This is proved, in the first place, by the fact that until the 
 sixth of September there were no fortifications on the ground ; 
 but, moreover, the defences begun on the sixth were not even 
 completed on the seventh. 
 
 In the second place, this is proved by the position of the 
 Shevardino redoubt a redoubt at Shevardino, in front of the 
 position where the battle was accepted, had no sense. Why 
 was this redoubt fortified more strongly than all the other 
 points ? And why were the troops weakened, and six thousand 
 men sacrificed, in vain attempts to hold this position until late 
 on the night of the fifth ? For all observations of the enemy, 
 a Cossack patrol would have been sufficient. 
 
 In the third place, that the position where the battle was 
 fought was not a matter of foresight, and that the Shevardino 
 redoubt was not the advanced work of this position, is proved 
 by the fact that Barclay de Tolly and Bagration, up to the 
 sixth instant, were convinced that the Shevardino redoubt was 
 the left flank of the position ; and even Kutuzof himself, in
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 201 
 
 bis report, written in hot haste after the battle, calls the She- 
 vardino redoubt the left flank of the position. 
 
 It was only some time subsequently, when the report of the 
 oattle of Borodino was written, with abundant time for reflec- 
 ion, that, probably for the sake of smoothing over the blunder 
 f the commander-in-chief, who had to be held infallible, the 
 'alse and strange ideas were promulgated that the Shevardino 
 iredoubt made the advanced post : when, in reality, it was 
 Dnly an intrenchment on the left flank ; and that the battle 
 Df Borodino was accepted by us in a position well forti- 
 fied, and selected in advance : when, in reality, it was fought 
 in a position perfectly unpremeditated, and almost unfor- 
 tified. 
 
 The affair, evidently, happened this way : a position was 
 selected on the river Kalotcha, where it crosses the highroad, 
 not at right, but at acute angles, so that the left flank 'was at 
 Shevardino, the right not far from the village of Novoye ; and 
 che centre at Borodino, near the confluence of the rivers Kalot- 
 cha and Vo'ina. .That this was the position, covered by the 
 river Kalotcha, for an army having for its end to check an 
 Bnemy moving along the Smolensk highway, against Moscow, 
 must be evident to any one who studies the battle-field of 
 Borodino, and forgets how the battle really took place. 
 
 Napoleon, who reached Yaluyevo on the fifth of September, 
 failed so the histories tell us to discover the position 
 )f the Russians, stretching from Utitsa to Borodino, he 
 3ould not have discovered this position because there was no 
 such position, and did not discover the advanced post of the 
 Russian army, but, in pursuing the Russian rearguard, he 
 Irove them in upon the left flank of the position of the Rus- 
 sians at the Shevardino redoubt, and, unexpectedly to the 
 Russians, crossed the Kalotcha with his troops. And the Rus- 
 sians, not having succeeded in bringing on a general engage- 
 ment, withdrew their left wing from a position which they 
 lad intended to hold, and took up another position, which was 
 lot anticipated and not fortified. 
 
 Napoleon, having crossed over to the left bank of the 
 Kalotcha at the left of the highway, transferred the coming 
 oattle from the right to left (relative to the Russians) and 
 Drought it into the field between Utitsa, Semenovskoye, and 
 Borodino into a field which had no earthly advantage over 
 iny other field that might have been chosen at random any- 
 vvhere in Russia and here it was that the great battle took 
 place on the seventh.
 
 202 
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 Koughly sketched, the plan of the ideal battle and of the 
 actual battle is here appended : 
 
 If Napoleon had not reached the Kalotcha on the afternoon 
 of the fifth and had not given orders immediately to storm 
 the redoubt, but had postponed the attack until the next 
 morning, no one could seriously doubt that the Shevardino 
 redoubt would have been the left flank of our position and the 
 battle would have been fought as we expected. In such a 
 contingency, we should have defended still more stubbornly 
 the Shevardino redoubt as being our left flank ; we should 
 have attacked Napoleon at his centre or right, and on the fifth 
 of September there would have been a general engagement in 
 that position which had been previously selected and defended.
 
 WAR AND PEACE:. 208, 
 
 But as the attack on our left flank was made in the after- 
 noon, after the retreat of our rearguard, that is to say, imme- 
 diately after the skirmish at Gridneva, and as the Russian 
 leaders would not or could not begin a general engagement in 
 the afternoon of the fifth, therefore the principal action of the 
 battle of Borodino was already practically lost on the fifth, 
 and undoubtedly led to the loss of the battle that was fought 
 on the seventh. 
 
 After the loss of the Shevardino redoubt on the morning of 
 the sixth, we were left without any position on our left flank 
 and were reduced to the necessity of straightening our left 
 wing and of making all haste to fortify it as best we 
 could. 
 
 Not only were the Russian troops on the seventh of Sep- 
 tember protected by feeble, unfinished intrenchments, but the 
 disadvantage of this situation was still further enhanced by the 
 fact that the Russian leaders, refusing to recognize a fact 
 settled beyond a peradventure, namely, the loss of their 
 defences on the left flank and the transfer of the whole future 
 engagement from right to left remained in their altogether 
 too extended position from Novoye to Utitsa, and the conse- 
 quence was they were obliged, during the engagement, to 
 transfer their troops from right to left. 
 
 Thus, throughout the engagement, the Russians had the 
 entire force of the French army directed against their left 
 wing, which was not half as strong. (Poniatowski's demon- 
 stration against Utitsa and Uvarovo on the right flank of 
 the French was independent of the general course of the 
 battle.) 
 
 Thus the battle of Borodino was fought in a way entirely 
 different from the descriptions of it which were written for 
 the purpose of glossing over the mistakes of our leaders and 
 consequently dimming the glory of the Russian army and 
 people. The battle of Borodino did not take place on a se- 
 lected and fortified position or with forces only slightly dis- 
 proportioned, but the battle, in consequence of the loss of the 
 Shevardino redoubt, was accepted by the Russians at an ex- 
 posed and almost unfortified position, with forces doubly 
 strong opposed to them ; in other words, under conditions 
 whereby it was not only unfeasible to fight ten hours and then 
 leave the contest doubtful, but unfeasible to keep the army 
 even three hours from absolute confusion and flight.
 
 204 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 PIERRE left Mozhaisk on the morning of the seventh. 
 
 On the monstrously steep and precipitous hillside down 
 which winds the road from the city, just beyond the cathedral 
 that crowns the hill on the right, where service was going on 
 and the bells were pealing, Pierre dismounted from his car- 
 riage and proceeded on foot. 
 
 Behind him came, laboriously letting themselves down, a 
 regiment of cavalry led by its singers. 
 
 A train of telyegas, full of men wounded in the last even- 
 ing's engagement, met him on its way up the hill. The peas- 
 ant drivers, shouting at their horses and lashing them with 
 their knouts, ran from one side to the other. The telyegas, 
 on which lay or sat three and four wounded soldiers, bumped 
 over the rough stones which were scattered about and did duty 
 as a causeway on the steep road. The soldiers, bandaged with 
 rags, pale, and with compressed lips and knit brows, clung to 
 the sides as they were bounced and jolted in the carts. 
 Nearly all of them looked with naive, childlike curiosity at 
 Pierre's white hat and green coat. 
 
 Pierre's coachman shouted angrily to the ambulance train 
 to keep to one side. The cavalry regiment with their singers, 
 as they came down the hill, overtook Pierre's drozhsky and 
 blocked up the whole road. Pierre halted, squeezing himself 
 to the very edge of the road, which was hollowed out of the 
 hillside. The hillside shelved over, and as the sun did not 
 succeed in penetrating into this ravine, it was cool and damp 
 there. Over Pierre was the bright August morning sky, and 
 the merry pealing of the chimes rang through the air. 
 
 One team with its load of wounded drew up at the edge of 
 the road near where Pierre had halted. The teamster, in his 
 bast shoes, and puffing with the exercise, came running up 
 with some stones, and hastily blocked the hinder wheels, which 
 were untired, and proceeded to arrange the breeching of his 
 little, patient horse. 
 
 An old soldier who had been wounded and had one arm in 
 a sling and was following the telyega on foot, took hold of it 
 with his sound hand and looked at Pierre. 
 
 " Say, friend,* will they leave us here, or is it to Moscow ? " 
 
 * Zemhdtchek, affectionate diminutive of zemliak, countryman, fellow- 
 countryman.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 205 
 
 Pierre was so absorbed in his thoughts that he did not hear 
 what the man said. He stared now at the cavalry regiment, 
 which had met face to face with the ambulance train, and now 
 at the telyega, which had halted near him with two wounded 
 men sitting up and one lying down, and it seemed to him that 
 here was the definite solution of the question that perplexed 
 him so. 
 
 One of the two soldiers sitting in the cart had been appar- 
 ently wounded in the cheek. His whole head was bound up 
 in rags, and one cheek was swollen up as big as the head of a 
 child. His mouth and nose were all on one side. This soldier 
 looked at the cathedral, and crossed himself. 
 
 The other, a 3 r oung lad, a raw recruit, blond, and as pale as 
 though his delicate face was completely bloodless, gazed at 
 Pierre with a fixed, good-natured smile. 
 
 The third was lying down, and his face was hidden. 
 
 The cavalry singers had now come abreast of the telyega : 
 
 " Akh! zapropala da yezhova golovd. 
 Da ! na chuzhoi storone zhivutchi." 
 
 " Yes, living in a foreign land," rang out the voices, trolling 
 a soldiers' dancing-song. As though seconding the merry song, 
 but in a different strain, far up from the heights above pealed 
 the metallic sounds of the cathedral chimes. And, in still 
 another strain of gayety, the bright sunbeams flooded the 
 summit of the acclivity over opposite. But under the hill- 
 side where Pierre stood, near the telyega with the wounded 
 men and the little panting horse, it was damp, and in shadow 
 and in gloom. 
 
 The soldier wi^Ji the swollen cheek looked angrily at the 
 cavalry singers. 
 
 " Okh ! the dandies ! " he muttered, scornfully. 
 
 " I have seen something besides soldiers to-day : muzhiks 
 is what I have seen ! Muzhiks, and whipped into battle, 
 too !" said the soldier standing behind the telyega, and turn- 
 ing to Pierre with a melancholy smile. " Not much picking 
 and choosing nowadays. They are trying to sweep in the 
 whole nation in one word, Moscow. They want to do it at 
 one fell swoop." 
 
 In spite of the incoherence of the soldier's words, Pierre 
 understood all that he meant, and he nodded his head affirma- 
 tively. 
 
 The road was at last cleared, and Pierre walked to the foot
 
 206 ' WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 of the hill, and then proceeded on his way. He drove along, 
 glancing at both sides of the road, trying to distinguish some 
 familiar face, and everywhere encountering only strangers be- 
 longing to the various divisions of the troops, who, without 
 exception, looked with amazement at his white hat and green 
 coat. 
 
 After proceeding about four versts he met his first acquaint- 
 ance, and joyfully accosted him. This acquaintance was one 
 of the physicians to the staff. Pierre met him as he came driv- 
 ing along in his britchka, accompanied by a young doctor, and 
 when he recognized Pierre he ordered the Cossack who was 
 seated on the box in place of his coachman to stop. 
 
 " Count ! your illustriousness ! How come you here ? " 
 
 u Why, I wanted to see what was going on." 
 
 " Well, you'll have enough to see." 
 
 Pierre got out again, and paused to talk with the doctor, 
 to whom he confided his intention of taking part in the 
 battle. 
 
 The doctor advised Bezukhoi to apply directly to his serene 
 highness. " God knows what would become of you during a 
 battle if you are not with friends," said he, exchanging glances 
 with his young colleague ; " but his serene highness, of course, 
 knows you, and will receive you graciously. I'd do that if I 
 were you, batyushka," said the doctor. 
 
 The doctor looked tired and sleepy. 
 
 " You think so, do you ? But I was going to ask you 
 where is our position ? " said Pierre. 
 
 " Our position ? " repeated the doctor. " That is something 
 that is not in my line. Go to Tatarinovo. Lot of them dig- 
 ging something or other there. There you'll find a hill, 
 and from the top of it you can get a good view," said the 
 doctor. 
 
 " A good view ? " repeated Pierre. " If you would " 
 
 But the doctor interrupted him, and turned to his britchka. 
 
 " I would show you the way ; yes, I would, by God but " 
 (and the doctor indicated his throat) " I am called to a corps 
 commander. You see how it is with us ? You know, count, 
 there's a battle to-morrow : out of a hundred thousand, we 
 must count on at least twenty thousand wounded. And we 
 have neither stretchers nor hammocks nor assistant surgeons 
 nor medicines enough for even six thousand ! We have ten 
 thousand telyegas, but something else is necessary, certainly. 
 We must do the best we can." 
 
 The strange thought that out of all these thousands of
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 207 
 
 living, healthy men, young and old, who looked at his white 
 hat with such jovial curiosity, probably twenty thousand were 
 doomed to suffer wounds and death (maybe the very men whom 
 he that moment saw), struck Pierre. 
 
 "They, very possibly, will be dead men to-morrow; why, 
 then, can they be thinking of anything besides death ? " 
 
 And, suddenly, by some mysterious association of ideas, he 
 had a vivid recollection of the steep descent from Mozhaisk 
 the telyegas with the wounded, the chiming bells, the slanting 
 rays of the sun, and the songs of the cavalrymen. 
 
 "The cavalry are going into action, and they meet the 
 wounded, and not for a single instant do they think of what 
 is awaiting them, but they gallop by and greet the wounded ; 
 and out of all these men, twenty thousand are doomed to die, 
 and yet they are interested in my hat ! Strange ! " thought 
 Pierre, as he proceeded on his way to Tatarinovo. 
 
 At the mansion of a landed proprietor, on the left-hand side 
 of the road, stood equipages, baggage wagons, a throng of den- 
 shchiks and sentinels. Here his serene highness was quar- 
 tered, but when Pierre arrived he was out, and almost all of his 
 staff. All were at a Te Deum service. 
 
 Pierre drove on farther, to Gorki. Mounting the hill, and 
 passing beyond the narrow street of the village, Pierre saw for 
 the first time the peasant-landwehr, with crosses on their caps, 
 and in white shirts, working with a will, with boisterous talk 
 and laughter at something, on a high, grass-grown mound to 
 the right of the road. 
 
 Some of them had shovels, and were digging at the hill ; 
 others were transporting dirt in wheelbarrows, along planks ; 
 still others were standing about, doing nothing. Two officers 
 were stationed on the mound, directing operations. 
 
 Pierre, seeing these muzhiks evidently enjoying the novelty 
 of military service, again recalled the wounded soldiers at 
 Mozhaisk, and he saw still deeper meaning in what the sol- 
 dier had tried to express when he said they are trying to 
 sweep in the whole nation. . The sight of these bearded mu- 
 zhiks working in the battle-field, in their clumsy boots, with 
 their sweaty necks, and some with shirt-collars rolled back, 
 exposing to sight their sunburned collar-bones, made a deeper 
 impression on Pierre than all else that he had seen or heard 
 hitherto concerning the solemnity and significance of the 
 actual crisis.
 
 208 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 PIERRE left his equipage, and, passing by the laboring land- 
 wehr, he directed his steps to the mound, from which, as the 
 doctor had told him, the whole battle-field was visible. 
 
 It was eleven o'clock in the morning. The sun stood a trifle 
 to Pierre's left and rear, and sent its beams down through the 
 pure, rarefied atmosphere, brilliantly lighting up the immense 
 panorama of hill and vale that spread before him, as in an 
 amphitheatre. 
 
 Above, and to the left, cutting across this amphitheatre, he 
 could see the great Smolensk highway, passing through a vil- 
 lage with a white church situated five hundred paces distant 
 from the mound and below it. This was Borodino. Near this 
 village the road crossed the river by a bridge, and, winding 
 and bending, mounted higher and higher, till it reached Va- 
 luyevo, visible six versts away. (Here Napoleon now was.) 
 Beyond Valuyevo the road was lost to sight in a forest, which 
 showed yellow against the horizon. In this forest of birches 
 and firs, to the left from tli3 highway, could be seen glisten- 
 ing in the sun the distant cross and belfry of the Kolotsky 
 monastery. Over all this blue distance, to the left and to the 
 right of the forest and the road, in various positions, could be 
 seen the smoke of camp-fires, and indeterminate masses of the 
 French and Russian troops. 
 
 At the right, looking down the rivers Kalotcha and Moskva, 
 the country was full of ravines and hills. Among these hills, 
 far away, could be seen the villages of Bezzubovo and Zakha- 
 rino. At the left the country was more level ; there were 
 cornfields, and the ruins^of a village that had been set on fire, 
 Semenovskoye, were still smoking. 
 
 All that Pierre saw on his right hand and his left was so 
 confused that he found nothing that in any degree answered 
 to his expectations. Nowhere could he find any such field of 
 battle as he had counted upon seeing, but only fields, clearings, 
 troops, woodland, bivouac fires, villages, hills, brooks ; and in 
 spite of all his efforts he could not make out any definite posi- 
 tion in this varied landscape, nor could he even distinguish 
 our troops from the enemy's. 
 
 " I must ask of some one who knows," he said to himself, 
 and he addressed himself to one of the officers, who was look- 
 ing inquisitively at his huge, unmilitary figure.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 209 
 
 " May I ask," said Pierre, turning to this officer, " what that 
 village is yonder ? " 
 
 " Burdino, isn't it ? " replied the officer, referring to his 
 comrade. 
 
 " Borodino/' said the other, correcting him. 
 
 The officer, evidently pleased to have a chance to talk, 
 approached Pierre. 
 
 " Are those ours yonder ? " 
 
 "Yes, and still farther are the French," said the officer. 
 " There they are, there. Can you see ? " 
 
 " Where ? where ? " asked Pierre. 
 
 " You can see them with the naked eye. See there." 
 
 The officer pointed at the columns of smoke rising at the 
 left, on the farther side of the river, and his face assumed that 
 'stern and grave expression which Pierre had noticed on many 
 faces that he had lately seen. 
 
 " Ah ! is that the French ? But who are yonder ? " Pierre 
 indicated a mound at the left, where troops were also visible. 
 
 " Those are ours." 
 
 " Oh, ours ! But there ? " Pierre pointed to another hill in 
 the distance, where there was a tall tree near a village show- 
 ing up in a valley, and with smoking bivouac fires and a strange 
 black mass. 
 
 " That is he again," explained the officer (this was the She- 
 vardino redoubt). " Yesterday it was ours, but now it's his" 
 
 " What is our position ? " 
 
 " Our position," repeated the officer, with a smile of satisfac- 
 tion : " I can explain it to you clearly, because I arranged almost 
 all our defences. There,' do you see ? our centre is at Borodino, 
 over yonder." He pointed to the village with the white church, 
 directly in front. " There is where you cross the Kalotcha. 
 Then here, do you see, down in that bottom land, where the 
 windrows of hay are lying ? there is a bridge there. That 
 is our centre. Our right flank is about yonder," he indicated 
 a place far distant, between the hills at the extreme right, 
 " the river Moskva is there, and there we have thrown up three 
 very strong earthworks. Our left flank " here the officer 
 hesitated. " You see, that is somewhat hard to explain to you. 
 Yesterday our left flank was yonder at Shevardino ; there, do 
 you see, where that oak-tree is ? but now we have withdrawn 
 the left wing, and now, now do you see, yonder, that village 
 and the smoke, that is Semenovskoye, it is about there." 
 He pointed to the hill of Rayevsky. " But it's hard to tell if 
 the action will come off there. He has brought his forces in 
 VOL. 3. 14.
 
 210 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 that direction, but that's a ruse. He will probably try to out- 
 flank us from the side of the Moskva. Well, at all events, a 
 good many of us will be counted out to-morrow," said the officer. 
 
 An old non-commissioned officer, who had approached the 
 speaker while he was talking, waited until his superior should 
 finish, but at this juncture, evidently dissatisfied with what 
 the officer was saying, interrupted him. " We must send for 
 gabions," said he gravely. 
 
 The officer seemed to be abashed, seemed to come to a real- 
 izing sense that, while it was permissible to think how many 
 would be missing on the morrow, it was not proper to speak 
 about it. 
 
 " All right, send Company Three again," said the officer hur- 
 riedly. " And who are you ? One of the doctors, are you ? " 
 
 " Ndj I was merely looking." And Pierre again descended 
 the hill, past the men of the landwehr. 
 
 " Akh ! curse 'em ! " exclaimed the officer, following him and 
 holding his nose as he ran by the laborers. 
 
 " There they are ! " " They've got here, they're coming ! " 
 "There they are !" " They'll be here in a minute!" 
 such were the exclamations suddenly heard, and officers, 
 soldiers, and the men of the landwehr rushed down the road. 
 
 Up the long slope of the hill came a church procession from 
 Borodino. At the forefront, along the dusty road, in fine order, 
 came a company of infantry with their shakoes off, and trail- 
 ing arms. Back of the infantry was heard a church chant. 
 
 Soldiers and landwehr men, outstripping Pierre, ran ahead 
 to meet the coming procession. 
 
 " They are bringing our Matuskha ! The Intercessor. The 
 Iverskaya Virgin ! " 
 
 " The Smolensk Matushka," said another, correcting the 
 former speaker. 
 
 The landwehr men, both those who belonged to the village 
 and those who had been working at the battery, threw down 
 their shovels and ran to meet the procession. 
 
 Behind the battalion which came marching along the dusty 
 road walked the priests in their chasubles, one little old man 
 in a cowl, accompanied by the clergy and chanters. Behind 
 them, soldiers and officers bore a huge ikon, with tarnished face, 
 in its frame. This was the ikon which had been brought away 
 from Smolensk, and had ever since followed the army. Be- 
 hind it and around it and in front of it came hurrying throngs 
 of soldiers, baring their heads and making obeisances to the 
 very ground.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 211 
 
 When the ikon reached the top of the hill it stopped. The 
 men who had been lugging the holy image on carved staves 
 were relieved, the diatchoks again kindled their censers, and 
 the Te Deum began. The sun poured his hot rays straight 
 down from the zenith ; a faint, fresh breeze played with the 
 hair on the uncovered heads, and fluttered the ribbons with 
 which the ikon was adorned ; the chant sounded subdued under 
 the vault of heaven. 
 
 A tremendous throng of officers, soldiers, and landwehr men, 
 all with uncovered heads, surrounded the ikon. Back of the 
 priest and diatchok, on a space cleared and reserved, stood 
 the officers of higher rank. One bald-headed general, with the 
 George around his neck, stood directly back of the priest and 
 did not cross himself, he was evidently a German, but 
 waited patiently for the end of the Te Deum, which he con- 
 sidered it necessary to listen to, probably so as to arouse the 
 patriotism of the Russian nation. 
 
 Another general stood in a military position, and kept 
 moving his hand in front of his chest and glancing around. 
 
 Pierre, who had taken his position amid a throng of mu- 
 zhiks, recognized a" number of acquaintances in this circle of 
 officials ; but he did not look at them ; his whole attention 
 was absorbed by the serious expression on the faces of the 
 throng of soldiers and militia, with one consent gazing with 
 rapt devotion at the wonder-working ikon. 
 
 When the weary sacristans who had been performing the 
 Te Deum for the twentieth time began to sing "Save from 
 their sorrows thy servants, Holy Mother of God ! " and the 
 priest and diatchok, in antiphonal service, took up the strain, 
 "Verily we all take refuge in Thee, as in a steadfast bul- 
 wark and defence," Pierre noticed that all faces wore that 
 expression of consciousness of the solemnity of the moment, 
 which he had marked at the foot of the hill near Mozhaisk, 
 and by fits and snatches on many faces that had met him that 
 morning. Heads were bent even more frequently, hair tossed 
 up, and sighs and the sounds of crosses striking chests were 
 heard. 
 
 The throng surrounding the ikon suddenly opened its ranks 
 and jostled against Pierre. 
 
 Some one, evidently a very important personage, to judge 
 by the eagerness with which they made way for him, ap- 
 proached the ikon. 
 
 It was Kutuzof, who had been out reconnoitring the posi- 
 tion. On his way to Tatarinovo, he came to hear the Te Deum
 
 212 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 service. Pierre instantly recognized him by the peculiarity 
 of his figure, which distinguished him from all the throng. 
 
 In a long overcoat, covering the huge bulk of his body, with 
 a stoop in his back, with his white head bared, and with his 
 hollow, white eye and puffy cheeks, Kutuzof advanced with 
 his plunging, staggering gait inside the circle, and stood be- 
 hind the priest. He crossed himself with a reverent gesture, 
 touched his hand to the ground, and with a deep sigh bent his 
 gray head. Behind Kutuzof were Benigsen and his suite. 
 Notwithstanding the presence of the commander-in-chief, who 
 attracted the attention of all those of higher rank, the men 
 of the landwehr and the soldiers, without looking at him, con- 
 tinued to offer their prayers. 
 
 When the service was concluded, Kutuzof went to the ikon, 
 heavily let himself down on one knee, bowed to the ground j 
 then he tried for some time to rise ; his weight and feebleness 
 made his efforts vain. His gray head shook from side to side 
 in his exertion. 
 
 At last he got to his feet again, and, with a childishly na'ive 
 thrusting-out of his lips, kissed the ikon and again bent over 
 and touched the ground with his hand. The generals present 
 followed his example ; then the officers, and then, crowding, 
 pushing, jostling, and stepping on each other, with excited 
 faces came the soldiers and militia. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 EXTRICATING himself from the crowd that pressed about 
 him, Pierre looked around. 
 
 " Count, Piotr Kiriluitch ! How come you here ? " cried 
 some one's voice. Pierre looked in that direction. Boris 
 Drubetskoi, brushing the dust from his knee, he had ap- 
 parently, like the rest, been making his genuflections before 
 the ikon, came up to Pierre, smiling. Boris was elegantly 
 attired, with just a shade of the wear and tear from having 
 been on service. He wore a long frock coat and a whip over 
 his shoulder in imitation of Kutuzof. 
 
 Kutuzof, meantime, had returned to the village, and sat 
 down in the shadow cast by the adjoining house, on a bench 
 brought out in all haste by a Cossack, while another had 
 covered it with a rug. A large and brilliant suite gathered 
 about him. 
 
 The ikon had gone farther on its way, accompanied by a
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 213 
 
 throng. Pierre, engaged in talking with Boris, remained 
 standing about thirty paces from Kutuzof. He was explain- 
 ing his intention of being present at the battle, and of recon- 
 noitring the position. 
 
 " You do this way," said Boris. " Je vous ferai les honneurs 
 du camp. The best thing is for you to see the whole affair 
 from where Count Benigsen will be. You see, I am with 
 him. I will propose it to him. And if you would like to 
 ride round the position we will do it together : we are just 
 going over to the left flank. And when we return I will beg 
 you to do me the favor of spending the night with me and we 
 will get up a party. I think you are acquainted with Dmitri 
 Sergeyevitch. He lodges over yonder." 
 
 He indicated the third house in Gorki. 
 
 " But I should like to see the right flank ; it is very strong," 
 protested Pierre. "I should like to ride over the whole posi- 
 tion, from the Moskva River." 
 
 " Well, you can do that afterwards ; but the main thing is 
 the left flank." 
 
 " Yes, yes. But where is Prince Bolkonsky's regiment ? 
 Can't you show me ? " demanded Pierre. 
 
 "Andrei Nikolayevitch's ? We shall ride directly past it : 
 I will take you to him." 
 
 "What were you going to say about the left flank ? " asked 
 Pierre. 
 
 " To tell you the truth, entre nous, our left flank is wretch- 
 edly placed," said Boris, lowering his voice to 1 a confidential 
 tone. " Count Benigsen proposed something entirely different. 
 He proposed to fortify that hill yonder ; not at all this way ; 
 but" Boris shrugged his shoulders "his serene highness 
 would not hear to it, or he was over-persuaded. You see " 
 
 But Boris did not finish what he was going to say, because 
 just at that instant Kaisarof, one of Kutuzof s adjutants, 
 approached Pierre. 
 
 " Ah ! Pa'isi Sergeyitch," exclaimed Boris, with a free and 
 easy smile, turning to Kaisarof. " Here I was just trying to 
 explain our position to the count. It is a marvel to me how 
 his serene highness could have succeeded so well in penetrat- 
 ing the designs of the French ! " 
 
 " Were you speaking of the left flank ? " asked Kaisarof. 
 
 "Yes, yes, just that. Our left flank is now very, very 
 strong." 
 
 Although Kutuzof had dismissed all superfluous mem- 
 bers from his staff, Boris, after the changes that had been
 
 214 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 made, had managed in keeping his place at headquarters. He 
 had procured a place with Count Benigsen. Count Benigsen, 
 like all the other men under whom Boris had served, con- 
 sidered the young Prince Drubetskoi an invaluable man. 
 
 In the headquarters of the army, there were two sharply 
 defined parties : that of Kutuzof and that of Benigsen, chief 
 of staff. Boris belonged to the latter party ; and no one was 
 more skilful than^he, even while expressing servile deference 
 to Kutuzof, to insinuate that the old man was incapable, and 
 that really everything was due to Benigsen. 
 
 They were now on the eve of a decisive engagement, which 
 would be likely either to prove Kutuzof's ruin, and put the 
 power in Benigsen's hands, or, even supposing Kutuzof were 
 to win the battle, to make it seem probable that all the credit 
 was due to Benigsen. In any case, great rewards would be 
 distributed on account of the coming battle, and new men 
 would be brought to the fore. Arid, in consequence of this, 
 Boris all that day had been in a state of feverish excitement. 
 
 Pierre was joined by other acquaintances, who came up 
 after Ka'isarof, and he had no time to answer all the inquiries 
 about Moscow with which they inundated him ; and he had no 
 time to listen to the stories which they told him. Excitement 
 and anxiety were written in all faces. But it seemed to Pierre 
 that the cause of these emotions, in some cases at least, was 
 to be attributed rather to the possibility of personal success ; 
 and he found it impossible to help comparing them with that 
 other expression of emotion which he had seen on other faces, 
 and which was eloquent of something besides merely personal 
 matters, but of the eternal questions of life and of death. 
 
 Kutuzof caught sight of Pierre's figure, and the group that 
 had gathered round him. 
 
 "Bring him to me," said Kutuzof. An adjutant communi- 
 cated his serene highness's message, and Pierre started to the 
 place where he was sitting. But, before he got there, a private 
 of militia approached Kutuzof. 
 
 It was Dolokhof. 
 
 " How comes this man here ? " asked Pierre. 
 
 " He's such a beast ! He's sneaking in everywhere ! " was 
 the answer. " He has been cashiered again. But he's on his 
 way up again. He has all sorts of schemes, and one night he 
 crept up as far as the enemy's picket lines. He's brave." 
 
 Pierre, taking off his hat, made a low bow to Kutuzof. 
 ^ " I had an idea that if I made this report to your serene 
 highness, you might order me off, or tell me that what I had
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 215 
 
 to say was already known to you, and then all would be up 
 with me," Dolokhof was saying. 
 
 " Very true, very true ! " 
 
 "But if I am correct, then I am doing a service for my 
 country, for which I am ready to die." 
 
 " Very true, very true ! " 
 
 " And if your serene highness needs a man who would not 
 care if he came out with a whole skin or not, then please 
 remember me. Maybe I might be of use to your serene 
 highness." 
 
 " Very true, very true ! " said Kutuzof, for the third time, 
 looking at Pierre with his one eye squinted up, and smiling. 
 
 At this instant, Boris, with his usual adroitness, came up in 
 line with Pierre close to the chief, and, in the most natural man- 
 ner in the world, said to Pierre, in his ordinary tone of voice, 
 as though he were pursuing what he had already begun to 
 say, 
 
 "The landwehr have put on clean white shirts, just as 
 though they were preparing for death. What heroism, count ! " 
 
 Boris said this to Pierre evidently for the sake of being 
 overheard by his serene highness. He knew that Kutuzof 
 would be attracted by these words, and, in fact, his serene 
 highness turned to him : 
 
 " What did you say about the landwehr ? " he demanded 
 of Boris. 
 
 " I said, your serene highness, that they had put on white 
 shirts for to-morrow, as a preparation for death." 
 
 " Ah ! They are a marvellous, incomparable people ! " 
 exclaimed Kutuzof, and, closing his eyes, he shook his head. 
 " An incomparable people," he repeated, with a sigh. " So 
 you wish to smell gunpowder ? " he asked, turning to Pierre. 
 " Well, it's a pleasant odor. I have the honor of being one of 
 your wife's adorers : is she well ? My quarters are at your 
 service." 
 
 And as often happens with old men, Kutuzof glanced about 
 absent-mindedly, as though forgetting all that he ought to say 
 or to do. Then apparently coming to a recollection of what his 
 memory was searching for, he beckoned up Andrei Sergeye- 
 vitch Kaisarof, his adjutant's brother : 
 
 " How how how do those verses those those verses 
 of Marin's how, how do they go ? Something he wrote on 
 Gerakof : ' Thou shalt be a teacher in the corpus' Repeat 'em, 
 repeat 'em ! " exclaimed Kutuzof, evidently 'in a mood to have 
 a laugh.
 
 216 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 Ka'isarof repeated the poem. Kutuzof, smiling, nodded his 
 head to the rhythm of the verses. 
 
 When Pierre left Kutuzof, Dolokhof approached and took 
 him by the arm : 
 
 " Very glad to meet you here, count," said he in a loud tone 
 and with peculiar resolution and solemnity, not abashed by 
 the presence of strangers. " On the eve of a day when God 
 knows which of us may quit this life, I am glad of the oppor- 
 tunity to tell you that I am sorry for the misunderstandings 
 which have existed between us, and that I hope you bear me 
 no grudge. I beg you to pardon me." 
 
 Pierre, smiling, gazed at Dolokhof, not knowing what answer 
 to make. Dolokhof, with tears in his eyes, threw his arms 
 around Pierre and kissed him. 
 
 Boris made some remark to his general, and Count Benigsen 
 turned to Pierre and invited him to join him in a ride along 
 the lines. 
 
 " It will be interesting to you," said he. 
 
 " Yes, very interesting," replied Pierre. 
 
 Half an hour later Kutuzof had gone back to Tatarinovo, 
 and Benigsen with his suite, including Pierre, set off on their 
 tour of inspection along tjie line. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 BENIGSEN set forth from Gorki along the highway to the 
 bridge to which Pierre's attention had been called by the 
 officer on the hill-top as being the centre of the position, and 
 where, along the intervale, the windrows of hay lay filling the 
 air with perfume. They crossed the bridge into the village 
 of Borodino, whence they made a detour to the left, and, pass- 
 ing a great quantity of troops and field-pieces, they made 
 their way to a high mound where the landwehr were con- 
 structing earthworks. This was the redoubt which as yet 
 was not named, but was afterwards known as Rayevsky's re- 
 doubt or the Kurgannaya * battery. Pierre did not pay any 
 special attention to this redoubt. He could not know that 
 this spot would come to be for him the most memorable of all 
 the positions on the field of Borodino. 
 
 Then they rode down through the ravine to Semenovskoye, 
 where the soldiers were dragging off the last remaining beams 
 from the cottages and corn kilns. Then down a hill and up a 
 
 * From kurgdn, a mound or hill (mamelori).
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 217 
 
 hill they rode, forward across a field of rye crushed down and 
 beaten as if by a hail storm, and over a road newly formed by 
 the artillery through a ploughed field until they reached the 
 fleches * which had just been started. 
 
 Benigsen drew up at the fleches and proceeded to scrutinize 
 the Shevardino redoubt, which had been ours the evening 
 before, where a number of horsemen could be distinguished. 
 
 The officers said that Xapoleon or Murat was among them, 
 and all gazed eagerly at the little knot of horsemen. Pierre 
 also looked in the same direction, trying to make out which of 
 these scarcely distinguishable men was Xapoleon. At last the 
 horsemen descended from the hill and disappeared. 
 
 Benigsen addressed a general who had approached him, and 
 proceeded to explain the whole position of our troops. Pierre 
 listened to Benigsen's words, exerting all the powers of his 
 mind to comprehend the nature of the approaching engage- 
 ment, but he was mortified to discover that his intellectual 
 capacities were not up to the mark. He got no idea whatever. 
 Benigsen ceased speaking, and, noticing that Pierre was listen- 
 ing attentively, he said, suddenly turning to him, 
 
 '' I am afraid this does not interest you ? " 
 
 " Oh, on the contrary, it is very interesting," replied Pierre, 
 not with absolute veracity. 
 
 From the fleche they took the road still farther toward the 
 left, which wound through a dense but not lofty forest of 
 birch-trees. In the midst of these woods a cinnamon-colored 
 hare with white legs bounded up before them, and, startled 
 by the trampling of so many horses' feet, was so bewildered 
 that for some time it ran along the road in front of them, ex- 
 citing general attention and amusement, and only when several 
 of the men shouted at it, did it dart to one side and disap- 
 pear in the thicket. 
 
 Having ridden a couple of versts through the wood, they 
 came to the clearing where the troops of Tutchkof's corps 
 were stationed, whose duty it was to defend the left flank. 
 
 Here, at the very extremity of the left flank, Benigsen had 
 a wordy and heated conversation and made what seemed to 
 Pierre a very important disposition. In* front of Tutchkof's 
 division there was a slight rise of ground. This rise had not 
 been occupied by our troops, 
 
 Benigsen vigorously criticised this blunder, declaring that it 
 was a piece of idiocy to leave unoccupied a height command- 
 ing a locality, and to draw up the troops at the foot of it. 
 * A kind of fortification, AUTHOR'S NOTE.
 
 218 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 Several of the generals expressed the same opinion. One in 
 particular, with genuine military fervor, declared that the 
 men were left there to certain destruction. Benigsen, on his 
 own responsibility, commanded the troops to occupy this 
 height. 
 
 This disposition on the left flank still further compelled 
 Pierre to doubt his capacity to understand military man- 
 oeuvres. As he listened to Benigsen and the generals who 
 were criticising the position of the troops at the foot of the 
 knoll, he perfectly understood them and agreed in their stric- 
 tures ; but for this very reason he found himself utterly unable 
 to comprehend how the one who had placed the men there at 
 the foot of the knoll could have made such a palpable and 
 stupid blunder. 
 
 Pierre did not know that these troops had been stationed 
 there not to guard the position, as Benigsen supposed, but 
 were set in ambuscade : in other words, in order to be hidden 
 and to fall unexpectedly on the enemy as they approached. 
 Benigsen did not know this, and he moved these troops for- 
 ward by his own understanding of the case, and without first 
 informing the cominaiider-in-chief. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 _ PRINCE ANDREI, that bright September afternoon of the 
 sixth, was stretched out with his head leaning on his hand, in 
 a dilapidated cow-shed, at the village of Kniazkovo, at the end 
 of the position occupied by his regiment. Through a hole in 
 the broken wall he was gazing at a row of thirty-year-old birches 
 that ran along the edge of the enclosure, with their lower limbs 
 trimmed off, and at a ploughed field over which were scattered 
 sheaves of oats, and at the coppice where the smoke of bivouac 
 fires was rising, where the soldiers were cooking their suppers. 
 
 Narrow and useless and trying as Prince Andrei's life now 
 seemed to him, he felt excited and irritable on the eve of the 
 battle, just as he had seven years before at Austerlitz. 
 
 The orders for the -morrow's battle were given and received 
 by him. There was nothing further left for him to do. But 
 his thoughts, the simplest, clearest, and therefore most ter- 
 rible thoughts, refused to leave him to repose. He was aware 
 that the morrow's engagement would be the most formidable 
 of all in which he had ever taken part, and the possibility of 
 death, for the first time in his life without reference to any
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 219 
 
 worldly aspect, without consideration as to the effect it might 
 produce upon others, but in its relation to himself, to his own 
 soul, confronted him with vividness, almost with certainty, in 
 all its grim reality. 
 
 And from the height of this consideration, all that hitherto 
 tormented and pre-occupied him was suddenly thrown into a 
 cold white light, without shadow, without perspective, with- 
 out distinction of features. 
 
 All his life appeared to him as though in a magic lantern, 
 into which he had long been looking through a glass and by 
 means of an artificial light. 
 
 Now he could suddenly see without a glass, by the clear 
 light of day, these wretchedly painted pictures. 
 
 " Yes, yes, here are those false images which have excited 
 and enraptured and deceived me," said he to himself, as he 
 passed in review, in his imagination, the principal pictures of 
 his magic-lantern life, now looking at them in this cold white 
 light of day the vivid thought of death. 
 
 " Here they are, these coarsely painted figures which pre- 
 tended to represent something beautiful and mysterious. 
 Glory, social advantages, woman's love, the country itself 
 how tremendous seemed to me these pictures, what deep sig- 
 nificance they seemed to possess. And all that seems now so 
 simple, so cheap and tawdry in the cold white light of that 
 morning which, I am convinced, will dawn for me to-morrow." 
 
 The three chief sorrows of his life especially arrested his 
 attention. His love for a woman, the death of his father, and 
 the French invasion which was ingulfing half of Russia. 
 
 " Love ! That young girl seemed to me endowed with 
 mysterious powers. How was it ? I loved her, I dreamed 
 poetic dreams of love and happiness with her. Oh, precious 
 boy ! " he cried aloud savagely. " How was it ? I had faith 
 in an ideal love which should keep her faithful to me during 
 the whole year of my absence. Like the tender dove of the 
 fable, she should have pined away while separated from me. 
 But the reality was vastly more simple. It was all horribly 
 simple, disgusting ! 
 
 " My father was building at Luisiya Gorui and supposing 
 that it was his place, his land, his air, his peasants; but 
 Napoleon came, and, not even knowing of his existence, swept 
 him aside like a chip from the road, and his Luisiya Gorui was 
 swallowed up and his life with it. But the Princess Mariya 
 says that this is a discipline sent from above. For whom is 
 it a discipline, since he is no more and will never be again ?
 
 220 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 He will never be seen again. He is no more. Then to whom 
 is it a discipline ? 
 
 " The fatherland, the destruction of Moscow ! But to-mor- 
 row I shall be killed perhaps not even by the French, but 
 by one of our own men, just as I might have been yesterday 
 when the soldier discharged his musket near my head and 
 the French will come, will take me by the legs and shoulders 
 and fling me into a pit, so that I may not become a stench in 
 their nostrils, and new conditions of existence will spring up, 
 to which other men will grow just as accustomed, and I shall 
 not know about them, for I shall be no more ! " 
 
 He gazed at the row of birches shining in the sun, with 
 their motionless yellow, green, and white boles. 
 
 " I must die ; suppose I am killed to-morrow, suppose it 
 is the end of me, the end of all, and I no longer exist- 
 ent ! " He vividly pictured the world and himself not in it. 
 The birches, with the lights and shades, and the curling 
 clouds, and the smoke of the bivouac fires, all suddenly 
 underwent a change, and assumed for him something terrible 
 and threatening. A cold chill ran down his back. Quickly leap- 
 ing to his feet, he left the shed, and began to walk up and down. 
 
 Voices were heard behind the shed. 
 
 " Who is there ? " asked Prince Andrei. The red-nosed 
 Captain Timokhin, who had formerly been Dolokhof's com- 
 pany commander, and now, owing to the lack of officers, had 
 been promoted to battalion commander, came shyly to the 
 shed. Behind him came an adjutant and the paymaster of 
 the regiment. 
 
 Prince Andrei got up, listened to what the officers had to 
 report to him, gave them a few extra directions, and was just 
 about to dismiss them when he heard from behind the shed 
 a familiar, lisping voice. 
 
 _" Que diable ! " exclaimed the voice of this man, who 
 tripped up over something. 
 
 Prince Andrei, peering out of the shed, saw advancing 
 toward him his friend Pierre, who had just succeeded in 
 stumbling and almost falling flat over a pole that was lying 
 on the ground. As a general thing, it was disagreeable for 
 Prince Andrei to see men from his own rank in life, and espe- 
 cially so in the case of Pierre, who brought back to his re- 
 membrance all the trying moments which he had experienced 
 during his last visit at Moscow. 
 
 " Ah ! how is this ? " he exclaimed. " What chance brings 
 you here ? I was not expecting you."
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 221 
 
 While he was saying these words his eyes and his whole 
 face expressed something more than mere coolness it was 
 rather an unfriendliness, which Pierre did not fail to remark. 
 He had approached the shed in the most animated frame of 
 mind, but when he saw Prince Andrei's face he felt suddenly 
 embarrassed and awkward. 
 
 " I came well you know I came it was interesting 
 to me," stammered Pierre, who had already used that word 
 " interesting " no one knows how many times during the 
 course of that day. " I wanted to see a battle." 
 
 " So, so, but what do your brotherhood of Masons say about 
 war ? How prevent it ? " asked Prince Andrei ironically. 
 " Well, how is Moscow ? How are my folks ? Have they 
 got to Moscow at last ? " he asked more seriously. 
 
 " Yes, they got there. Julie Drubetskaya told me. I went 
 to call upon them, and failed to find them. They had gone to 
 your pod-Moskovnaya." 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 THE officers were going to take their leave, but Prince 
 Andrei, as though not desiring to be left alone with his friend, 
 invited them to sit down and take tea. Stools and tea were 
 brought. The officers, not without amazement, gazed at 
 Pierre's enormously stout figure, and listened to his stories 
 of Moscow, and the position of our troops which he had 
 chanced to visit. 
 
 Prince Andrei said nothing, and the expression of his face 
 was so disagreeable that Pierre addressed himself more to the 
 good-natured battalion commander, Timokhin, than to Bol- 
 konsky. 
 
 " So you understood the disposition of our forces, did 
 you ? " suddenly interrupted Prince Andrei. 
 
 "Yes that is, to a certain extent," said Pierre; "so far 
 as a civilian can. I don't mean absolutely, but still, I under- 
 stood the general arrangements." 
 
 " Then you are ahead of any one else ! " said Prince 
 Andrei.* 
 
 " Ha ? " exclaimed Pierre, looking in perplexity over his 
 glasses at Prince Andrei. " Well, what do you think about 
 the appointment of Kutuzof ? " he asked. 
 
 * Eh bien, vous etes plus avancd que qui cela soit.
 
 222 WAR ANT) PEACE. 
 
 " I was very much pleased with it ; that is all I can say 
 about it/' replied Prince Andrei. 
 
 " Now, then, please tell me your opinion in regard to Bar- 
 clay de Tolly. They are saying all sorts of things about him 
 in Moscow. What is your judgment about him ? " 
 
 "Ask these gentlemen," suggested Prince Andrei, indi- 
 cating the officers. 
 
 Pierre looked at Timokhin with that indulgently question- 
 ing smile with which all treated him in spite of themselves. 
 
 ^ " It brought light * to us, your illustriousness, as soon as 
 his serene highness took charge," said Timokhin, who kept 
 glancing timidly at his regimental commander. 
 
 " Row so ? " asked Pierre. 
 
 u Well, now, take for instance, firewood or fodder : I will ex- 
 plain it to you. We retreated from Swienciany, and did not 
 dare to touch a dry branch or a bit o' hay or anything. You 
 see, we marched off and left it for him : wasn't that so, your 
 illustriousness ? " he asked, addressing " his prince." " It 
 was, ' Don't you dare.' In our regiment, two officers were 
 court-martialled for doing such things. Well, then, when his 
 serene highness came in, it became perfectly simple as far as 
 such things were concerned. We saw light." 
 
 " Then, why did he forbid it ? " 
 
 Timokhin glanced around in some confusion, not knowing 
 what to say in reply to this question. Pierre turned to Prince 
 Andrei, and asked the same thing. 
 
 " In order not to spoil the country which we were leaving 
 to the enemy," replied Prince Andrei, with savage sarcasm. 
 "It is very judicious never to allow the country to be pil- 
 laged, and soldiers taught to be marauders. Well, then, at 
 Smolensk, he also very correctly surmised that the French 
 might outflank us since they outnumbered us. But he could 
 not understand this," screamed Prince Andrei, in a high key, 
 as though he had lost control of his voice. 
 
 " He could not understand that we were for the first time 
 fighting in defence of Eussian soil, that the troops were ani- 
 mated by a spirit such as I, for one, had never seen before ; 
 that we had beaten the French two days running, and that 
 this victory had multiplied our strength tenfold. He gave 
 the orders to retreat, and all our efforts and losses were ren- 
 dered useless. He never dreamed of playing the traitor ; he 
 tried to do everything in the best possible manner ; his fore- 
 sight was all-embracing, but for that very reason he is good 
 
 * Svyet, light; a play on the first syllable of svye'tleishii (most serene).
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 223 
 
 for nothing. He is good for nothing now, for the very reason 
 that he lays out all his plans beforehand very judiciously and 
 punctiliously, as it is natural for every German to do. How 
 can I make it clear ? See here ! Your father has a German 
 lackey, and he is an excellent lackey, and he serves him in all 
 respects better than you could do, and so you let him do his 
 work; but if your father is sick unto death, you send the 
 lackey off, and with your own unaccustomed, unskilful hands, 
 you look after your father, and you are more of a comfort to 
 him than the skilful hand of a foreigner would be. And that 
 is the case with Barclay. As long as Russia was well, a 
 stranger could serve her, and was an excellent servant ; but 
 as soon as she was in danger, she needs a man of her own 
 blood. Well, you have accused him at the club of being a 
 traitor. The only effect of traducing him as a traitor will be 
 that afterwards, becoming ashamed of such a false accusation, 
 the same men will suddenly make a hero or a genius of him, 
 which would be still more unjust. He is an honorable and 
 very punctilious German " 
 
 " At all events, they say he is a skilful commander," inter- 
 posed Pierre. 
 
 " I don't know what you mean by a skilful commander," 
 said Prince Andrei, with a sneer. 
 
 " A skilful commander/' explained Pierre, " well, is one who 
 foresees all contingencies, reads his enemy's intentions." 
 
 " Well, that is impossible," said Prince Andrei, as though 
 the matter had been long ago settled. 
 
 Pierre looked at him in amazement. 
 
 " Certainly," said he, " it has been said that war is like a 
 game of chess." 
 
 " Yes," replied Prince Andrei, " only with this slight differ- 
 ence : that in chess you can think over each move as long as 
 you wish, that you are in that case freed from conditions of 
 time ; and with this difference also, that the knight is always 
 stronger than the pawn, and two pawns are always stronger 
 than one, while in war a single battalion is sometimes stronger 
 than a division, and sometimes weaker than a company. The 
 relative strength of opposing armies can never be predicted. 
 Believe me," said he, " if it depended on the dispositions made 
 by the staff officers, then I should have remained on the staff 
 and made my dispositions, while as it is, instead, I have the 
 honor of serving here in the regiment with these gentlemen, and 
 I take it that, in reality, the affair of to-morrow will depend 
 upon us, and not upon them. Success never has depended.
 
 224 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 and never will depend, either on position or on armament or 
 on numbers, but least of all on position." 
 
 " What does it depend on, then ? " 
 
 ^"On the feeling that is in me and in him," he indicated 
 Timokhin, "and in every soldier." 
 
 Prince Andrei glanced at Timokhin, who was staring at 
 his commander, startled and perplexed. Contrary to his ordi- 
 nary silent self-restraint, Prince Andrei seemed now excited. 
 He apparently could not refrain from expressing the thoughts 
 which had unexpectedly occurred to him. 
 
 " The battle will be gained by the one who is resolutely bent 
 on gaining it. Why did we lose the battle of Austerlitz ? Our 
 loss was not much greater than that of the French, but we 
 said to ourselves very early in the engagement that we should 
 lose it, and we did lose it. And we said this because there was 
 no reason for being in a battle there, and we were anxious to 
 get away from the battle-field as soon as possible. We have 
 lost, so let us run,' and we did run. If we had not said this 
 till evening, God knows what would have happened. But to- 
 morrow we shall not say that. You have just said our posi- 
 tion, the left flank, is weak, the right flank too much extended," 
 he pursued, " but that is all nonsense. It is not so at all. For 
 what is before us to-morrow ? A hundred millions of the most 
 various possibilities, which will be decided instantaneously. 
 They, or our men, will start to run ; this one or that one will 
 be killed. All that is being done now, though, is mere child's- 
 play. The fact is, those with whom you rode round inspecting 
 the position, instead of promoting the general course of events, 
 rather hinder it. They are occupied with their own petty 
 interests, and nothing else." 
 
 " At such a moment ? " asked Pierre reproachfully. 
 
 '- Yes^even at such a moment" repeated Prince Andrei. " For 
 them this is only a propitious time to oust a rival or win an 
 extra cross or ribbon. I will tell you what I think to-morrow 
 means. A hundred thousand Eussian and a hundred thousand 
 French soldiers meet in battle to-morrow, and the result will be 
 that of these two hundred thousand soldiers, the side will win 
 that fights most desperately and is least sparing of itself. And, 
 if you will, I will tell you this : whatever happens, whatever 
 disagreements there may be in the upper circles, we shall win 
 the battle to-morrow. To-morrow, whatever happens, we shall 
 win." 
 
 " You are right there, your illustriousness, perfectly right," 
 echoed Timokhin, " Why should we spare ourselves now ?
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 225 
 
 The men in my battalion would you believe it ? would 
 not drink their vodka. l It is not the time for it,' said they." 
 
 All were silent. The officers got up. Prince Andrei went 
 with them behind the shed, giving his final directions to his 
 adjutant. 
 
 When the officers had gone, Pierre went to Prince Andrei, 
 and was just about to renew his conversation with him, when 
 along the road that ran not far from the shed they heard the 
 trampling hoofs of three horses, and, looking in that direction, 
 Prince Andrei recognized Woltzogen and Klauzewitz, accom- 
 panied by a Cossack. They rode rapidly by, talking as they 
 went, and Pierre and Andrei heard involuntarily the following 
 snatches of their conversation : 
 
 " The war must spread into the country. I cannot sufficiently 
 advocate this plan," said one. 
 
 " Oh, yes," replied the other, " our only object is to weaken 
 the enemy, so of course we cannot consider the loss of single 
 individuals." * 
 
 " ja ! " echoed the first again. 
 
 " Yes, ' spread into the country/ " repeated Prince Andrei, 
 with an angry snort, after they had ridden past. " ' The coun- 
 try ! ' And there my father and son and my sister have had to 
 bear the brunt of it at Luisiya Gorui. It is all the same to 
 him. Now, that illustrates the very thing I was telling you. 
 These German gentlemen will not win the battle to-morrow, 
 but will only muddle matters so far as they can, for in their 
 German heads there are only arguments which aren't worth a 
 row of pins, while in their hearts they have nothing of what is 
 alone useful at such a time not one atom of what is in 
 Timokhin. They have abandoned all Europe to him, and now 
 they come here to teach us. Splendid teachers ! " and again 
 his voice became high and sharp. 
 
 " So you think that we shall win a victory to-morrow ? " 
 asked Pierre. 
 
 " Certainly I do," replied Prince Andrei, absently. " One 
 thing I should have done if I could," he bega*n, after a short 
 pause : " I would have allowed no prisoners to be taken. 
 What does the taking of prisoners mean ? It is chivalr}^ 
 The French have destroyed my home, and they are coming to 
 destroy Moscow; they have insulted me, and they goon in- 
 sulting me every second. They are my enemies, they are in 
 
 * " Der Krieg muss im Raiim verlegt werden. Der Ansicht kann ich gemig 
 Preis geben." " O ja, der Zweck ist nur den Femd zu schwachen, so kann 
 mann gewiss nicht den Verlust der privat-Personen in Achtung nchmen." 
 VOL. 3. 15.
 
 226 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 my opinion criminals. And that expresses the feeling of 
 Timokhin and the whole army. They must be punished. If 
 they are my enemies, they cannot be my friends, in spite of 
 all they might say at Tilsit." 
 
 " Yes, you are right." assented Pierre, with gleaming eyes 
 glancing at Prince Andrei. " I entirely agree with you. " 
 
 _ The question which had been troubling Pierre ever since 
 his delay on the hillside of Mozhaisk, and all that long day, 
 now became to him perfectly clear and settled beyond a per- 
 adventure. He now comprehended all the meaning and sig- 
 nificance of this war and of the impending battle. All that he 
 had seen that day, all the stern faces full of thoughtfulness, 
 of which he had caught a cursory glimpse, now were illumi- 
 nated with a new light for him. He comprehended that latent 
 heat of patriotism to use a term of physics which was 
 hidden in all these men he had seen, and this explained to him 
 why it was all these men were so calm, and, as it were, heed- 
 less, in their readiness for death. 
 
 ''Let no prisoners be taken/' pursued Prince Andrei. 
 " That alone would change all war, and would really make it 
 less cruel. But, as it is, we play at making war. That's the 
 wretchedness of it; we are magnanimous and all that sort of 
 thing. This magnanimity and sensibility it is like the mag- 
 nanimity and sensibility of a high-born lady, who is offended 
 if by chance she sees a calf killed ; she is so good that she 
 cannot see the blood, but she eats the same calf with good 
 appetite when it is served with sauce. They prate to us 
 about the laws of warfare, chivalry, flags of truce, humanity 
 to the wounded and the like. It's all nonsense. I saw what 
 chivalry, what our ' parliamentarianism ' was in 1805; they 
 hocus-pocused us, we hocus-pocused them. Homes are pil- 
 laged, counterfeit assignats are issued, and, worse than all, 
 they kill our children and our fathers, and then talk about 
 the laws of warfare and generosity to our enemies. Give no 
 quarter, but kill and be killed ! Whoever has reached this 
 conclusion, as I have, by suffering " 
 
 _ Prince Andrei, who had believed that it was a matter of in- 
 difference to him whether Moscow were taken or not taken, 
 
 just as Smolensk had been suddenly stopped short in the 
 middle of his argument owing to an unexpected cramp that 
 took him in the throat. He walked up and down a few times 
 in silence ; but his- eyes gleamed fiercely, and his lip trembled, 
 when he again resumed the thread of his discourse. 
 
 " If there were none of this magnanimity in warfare, then
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 227 
 
 we should only undertake it when, as now, it was a matter for 
 which it was worth while to meet one's death. Then there 
 would not be war because Pavel Ivanuitch had insulted 
 Mikhail Ivanuitch. But if there must be war like the pres- 
 ent one, let it be war. Then the zeal and intensity of the 
 troop would always be like what it is now. Then all these 
 Westphalians and Hessians, whom Napoleon has brought with 
 him, would not have come against us to Russia, and we should 
 never have gone to fight in Austria and Prussia without knowing 
 why. War is not amiability, but it is the most hateful thing 
 in the world, and it is necessary to understand it so and not 
 to play at war. It is necessary to take this frightful necessity 
 sternly and seriously. This is the pith of the matter ; avoid 
 falsehood, let war be war and not sport. For otherwise war 
 becomes a favorite pastime for idle and frivolous men. The 
 military are the most honorable of any class. 
 
 " But what is war, and what is necessary for its success, and 
 what are the laws of military society ? The end and aim of 
 war is murder ; the weapons of war are espionage, and treach- 
 ery and the encouragement of treachery, the ruin of the in- 
 habitants, and pillage and robbery of their possessions for the 
 maintenance of the troops, deception and lies which pass 
 under the name of finesse ; the privileges of the military 
 class, the lack of freedom, that is discipline, enforced inactiv- 
 ity, ignorance, rudeness, debauchery, drunkenness. And yet, 
 this is the highest caste in society, respected by all. All rulers, 
 except the Emperor of China, wear military uniforms, and. 
 the one who has killed the greatest number of men gets the 
 greatest reward. 
 
 " Tens of thousands of men meet, just as they will to-mor- 
 row, to murder one another, they will massacre and maim ; 
 and afterwards thanksgiving Te Deums will be celebrated, 
 because many men have been killed the number is always 
 exaggerated and victory will be proclaimed on the supposi- 
 tion that the more men killed, the greater the credit. Think 
 of God looking down and listening to them ! " exclaimed 
 Prince Andrei, in his sharp, piping voice. " Ah ! my dear fel- 
 low,* of late life has been a hard burden. I see I have obtained 
 too deep an insight into things. It is not for a man to taste 
 of the knowledge of good and of evil well, it is not for 
 long, now," he added. " However, it is your bedtime ; and it 
 is time for me to turn in too. Go back to Gorki ! " sud- 
 denly exclaimed Prince Andrei. 
 
 * Akh, dusha moya.
 
 228 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 ^"Oh, no," cried Pierre, looking at Prince Andrei with 
 frightened, sympathetic eyes. 
 
 " Go, go ; before an engagement one must get some sleep," 
 insisted Prince Andrei. He came swiftly up to Pierre, threw 
 his arms around him and kissed him. " Good-by, prash- 
 chdi ; go now," he cried. " We may meet again no " and, 
 hurriedly turning his back on his friend, he went into the 
 shed. 
 
 It was already dark, and Pierre could not make out the 
 expression of Prince Andrei's face, whether it was angry or 
 tender. 
 
 Pierre stood for some time in silence, deliberating whether 
 to follow him or to go to his lodgings. 
 
 "No, he does not want me," Pierre decided, "and I know 
 that this is our last meeting." He drew a deep sigh and went 
 back to Gorki. 
 
 Prince Andrei retiring into his shed, threw himself down on 
 a rug, but he could not sleep. 
 
 He closed his eyes. One picture after another rose before 
 him. One in particular held him long in rapt, joyous atten- 
 tion. He had a vivid remembrance of an evening at Peters- 
 burg. Natasha, with her eager, vivacious face, was telling him 
 how, the summer before, while she was out after mushrooms, 
 she had lost her way in the great forest. She gave him a dis- 
 connected description of the darkness of the woods, and her 
 sensations, and her conversation with a bee-hunter whom she 
 . had met ; and every little while she had interrupted her story 
 and said: "No, I can't tell you, you won't understand," al- 
 though Prince Andrei had tried to calm her by assuring her 
 that he understood ; and in reality he had understood all that 
 she meant to convey. 
 
 Natasha had been dissatisfied with her own words ; she 
 felt that she could not express the passionately poetical, sen- 
 sation which she had felt that day, and which she desired to 
 express in words. 
 
 " The old man was so charming, and it was so dark in the 
 forest, and he had such good but oh, dear, I can't tell 
 you,'' she had said, blushing and becoming agitated. 
 
 Prince Andrei smiled even now the same joyous smile which 
 he had smiled then as he looked into her eyes. 
 
 "I understood her," said he to himself; "not only did I 
 understand her, but I loved that moral power of hers, that 
 frankness, that perfect honesty of soul, yes, her soul itself, 
 which seemed to dominate her body, her soul itself I loved
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 229 
 
 so powerfully, so happily I loved."- And suddenly he re- 
 called what it was that had put an end to his love. 
 
 "Ife needed nothing of the sort. He saw nothing, under- 
 stood nothing of all this. All he saw was a very pretty and 
 fresh young girl, with whom he did not even deign to join his 
 fate. But I ? And he is still alive and enjoying life ! " 
 
 Prince Andrei, as though something had scalded him, sprang 
 up and once more began to pace up and down in front of the 
 shed. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 ON the sixth of September, the day before the battle of 
 Borodino, M. de Beausset, Grand Chamberlain to the Em- 
 peror of the French, and Colonel Fabvier arrived, the first 
 from Paris, the other from Madrid, to the Emperor Napoleon 
 at his camp at Valuyevo. 
 
 M. de Beausset sent on ahead a packet which he had 
 brought to the emperor, and, after he had changed his travel- 
 ling dress for a court uniform, he entered the outer division 
 of Napoleon's tent, where, while talking with Napoleon's 
 aides-de-camp who crowded round him, he busied himself with 
 undoing the wrapper of the case. 
 
 Fabvier, not entering the tent, paused at the entrance, and 
 entered into conversation with generals of his acquaintance. 
 
 The Emperor Napoleon had not yet quitted his bedroom, 
 where he was engaged in making his toilet. Sniffing and 
 grunting, he was turning first his stout, back, then his fat 
 chest to the valet who was plying the brush. A second valet, 
 holding his fingers over the bottle, was sprinkling the em- 
 peror's neatly arrayed person with eau de cologne, his expres- 
 sion intimating that he was the only one who knew how much 
 cologne to use, and where it should be applied. Napoleon's 
 short-cropped hair was wet and pasted down upon his fore- 
 head. But his face, though puffy and sallow, expressed 
 physical satisfaction. " Allez ferme allez toujours steady 
 up put more energy in," he was saying as he shrugged his 
 shoulders and grunted while the valet brushed him. 
 
 One of his aides-de-camp who had been admitted into 
 his sleeping-room to submit a report to the emperor as to 
 the number of prisoners taken during the engagement of the 
 preceding day, having accomplished his errand, was standing 
 by the door, awaiting permission to retire. Napoleon scowled 
 and glared at the aide from under his brows.
 
 230 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 " No prisoners," said he, repeating the aide-de-camp's words. 
 " They compel us to annihilate them. So much the worse for 
 the Kussian army. Go on, more energy!" he exclaimed, 
 hunching up his back, and offering his squabbish shoulders.* 
 " That'll do. Show in M. de Beausset and Fabvier as well." 
 
 " Yes, sire," and the aide-de-camp disappeared through the 
 door of the tent. 
 
 The two valets de chambre quickly dressed his majesty, 
 and he, in the blue uniform of the Guards, with firm, swift 
 steps, entered the anteroom. Beausset was at that instant 
 engaged in placing the gift which he had brought from the 
 empress on two chairs directly in front of the entrance. But 
 the emperor had dressed and come out with such unexpected 
 promptness that he had not time to get the surprise arranged 
 to his satisfaction. 
 
 Napoleon instantly remarked what he was doing, and con- 
 jectured that they were not quite ready for him. He did not 
 want to spoil their pleasure in surprising him. He pretended 
 not to see M. Beausset, and addressed himself to Fabvier. 
 
 Napoleon, with a deep frown, and without speaking, listened 
 to what Fabvier said about the bravery and devotion of his 
 troops who had been fighting at Salamanca, at the other end 
 of Europe, and who had only one thought to be worthy of 
 their emperor ; and one fear that of not satisfying him. 
 
 The result of the engagement was disastrous. Napoleon, 
 during Fabvier's report, made ironical observations, giving to 
 understand that the affair could not have resulted differently, 
 he being absent. 
 
 "I must regulate this in Moscow," said Napoleon. "A 
 tantot Good-by for now," he added, and approached De 
 Beausset, who by this time had succeeded in getting his sur- 
 prise ready some object covered with a cloth having been 
 placed on the chairs. 
 
 De Beausset bowed low with that courtly French bow which 
 only the old servants of the Bourbons could even pretend to 
 put into practice, and, advancing, he handed Napoleon the 
 envelope. 
 
 Napoleon approached him and playfully took him by the 
 ear. 
 
 " You have made good time ; I am very glad. Well, what 
 have they to say in Paris ? " he asked, suddenly changing his 
 former stern expression into one of the most genial character. 
 
 " Point de prisonniers. Tant pis pour I'arme'e russe. Allez t 
 allezferme. C'est bien ! Faites entrer M. de Beausset, ainsi que Fabvier.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 231 
 
 " Sire, tout Paris regrette votre absence" replied De Beausset, 
 as in duty bound. 
 
 But though Napoleon knew that De Beausset was bound to say 
 this, or something to the same effect, though in his lucid inter- 
 vals he knew that this was not true, it was agreeable to him 
 to hear this from De Beausset. He again did him the honor 
 of taking his ear. 
 
 " I am sorry to have given you such along journey," said he. 
 
 " Sire, I expected nothing less than to find you at Moscow,"* 
 said Beausset. 
 
 Napoleon smiled, and, raising his head, heedlessly he glanced 
 to the right. 
 
 An aide-de-camp with a gliding gait approached with a gold 
 snuff-box, and presented it. Napoleon took it. 
 
 " Yes, it has turned out luckily for you," he said, putting 
 the open snuff-box to his nose. " You enjoy travelling ; in 
 three days you will see Moscow. You really could not have 
 expected to see the Asiatic capital. You will have had a 
 pleasant journey." 
 
 Beausset made a low bow to express his gratitude for this 
 discovery of this proclivity for travelling, till now unknown 
 to him. 
 
 " Ah, what is that ? " exclaimed Napoleon, noticing that all 
 the courtiers were glancing at the something hidden by a covering. 
 
 Beausset, with courtier-like dexterity, not turning his back 
 on his sovereign, took a couple of steps around and at the same 
 time snatched off the covering, saying, 
 
 "A gift to your majesty, from the empress." 
 
 This was Gerard's brilliantly painted portrait of the little 
 lad born to Napoleon and the Austrian emperor's daughter 
 the child whom all, for some occult reason, called the King of 
 Rome. 
 
 The perfectly rosy, curly-haired boy, with a face like the 
 face of the child in the Sixtine Madonna, was represented 
 playing bilboquet. The ball represented the earth, and the 
 cup in his other hand represented a sceptre. Although it was 
 not perfectly clear why the artist wished to represent the so- 
 called King of Borne transfixing the earth-ball with a stick, 
 still this allegory seemed perfectly clear to all who saw the 
 picture in Paris, as well as to Napoleon., and greatly delighted 
 them. 
 
 " Roi de Rome ! " he exclaimed, with a graceful gesture 
 
 * " Je suisfacMde vovs avoir fait faire tant de chemin." "Sire,je ne 
 iriattendais pas a moins qu 1 a vous trouver auxportes de Moscou."
 
 232 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 pointing to the portrait. " Admirable." With that facility, 
 characteristic of Italians, of changing at will the expression of 
 his countenance, he approached the portrait and assumed a 
 look of thoughtful tenderness. 
 
 He was conscious that what he was saying and doing at 
 that moment was history. And it seemed to him that the 
 best thing he could do no\v was to display the simplest pater- 
 nal affection, as being most of a contrast to that majesty the 
 consequence of which was that his son played bilboquet with 
 the earth for the ball. 
 
 His eyes grew dim; he drew near it, he looked round for a 
 chair the chair sprang forward and placed itself under him 
 and he sat down in front of the portrait. He waved his hand, 
 and all retired on their tiptoes, leaving the great man to him- 
 self and his feelings. 
 
 After sitting there for some time and letting his attention, 
 he knew not why, be attracted by the roughness with which 
 the picture was painted, he got up and again beckoned to. 
 Beausset and the aide on duty. 
 
 He gave orders to have the portrait carried out in front of 
 his tent, so that his old guard, who were stationed around his 
 tent, might not be deprived of the bliss of seeing the King of 
 Rome, the son and heir of their beloved monarch. As he 
 anticipated, while he was eating breakfast with Beausset, 
 whom he vouchsafed this honor, he heard the enthusiastic 
 shouts of the officers and soldiers of the old guards, who came 
 to view the portrait. 
 
 " Vive VEinpereur ! Vive le Roi de Rome ! Vive VEm- 
 pereur" shouted the enthusiastic voices. 
 
 After breakfast, Napoleon, in Beaussei's presence, dictated 
 his address to the army. 
 
 " Courte et energique ! short and to the point ! " exclaimed 
 Xapoleon, as he read it aloud, the proclamation which had 
 been written down word for word without a change. The 
 proclamation said, 
 
 " Soldiers ! the battle which you have so eagerly desired is 
 at hand. Victory depends on you, but victory is indispensable 
 for us ; it will give you all that you need, comfortable quarters, 
 and a speedy return to your native land. Behave as you be- 
 haved at Austerlitz, Friedland, Vitebsk, and Smolensk. Let 
 your remotest posterity recall with pride your exploits on this 
 day. And it will be said of each one of you, ' He was present 
 at the great battle at Moscow.' " 
 
 " De la Moskowa" repeated Napoleon, and, taking M. de
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 933 
 
 Beausset with him, who was so fond of travelling, he left the 
 tent and mounted his horse, that was waiting already saddled. 
 
 " Votre majeste a trop de bonte ! Your majesty is too kind," 
 said Beausset, in reply to the emperor's invitation to accompany 
 him on his ride ; he would have preferred to go to sleep, and 
 he did not like, nay, he even feared, to ride on horseback. 
 
 But Napoleon nodded his .head to the traveller, and Beausset 
 had to go. 
 
 When Napoleon left the tent, the acclamations of his guards 
 in front of the portrait were more eager than ever. Napoleon 
 frowned. 
 
 " Take it away," said he, pointing to the portrait with a 
 graceful and imperious gesture. " He is too young yet to see 
 a battle." 
 
 Beausset, closing his eyes and bending his head, drew a 
 deep sigh, signifying thereby how he could appreciate and 
 prize his emperor's words. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 NAPOLEON, according to his historians, passed the entire 
 da}^ of September 6 on horseback, inspecting the battle-field, 
 examining the plans suggested by his marshals, and person- 
 ally giving orders to his generals. 
 
 The original position of the Russian army along the Kalotcha 
 had been broken, and the capture of the Shevardino redoubt 
 on the fifth had forced a portion of this line, particularly the 
 left flank, to retreat. This part of the line had not been for- 
 tified, nor was it protected any longer by the river, and before 
 it extended a more open and level ground. 
 
 It was evident to any one, whether soldier or civilian, that 
 this part of the line was where the French must make their 
 attack. To reach this conclusion it would seem that there 
 was no need of many combinations, no need of sueh sedulous 
 and solicitous preparations on the part of the emperpr and 
 his marshals. That high and extraordinary capacity called 
 genius, which men so like to attribute to Napoleon, was en- 
 tirely superfluous. But the historians who Jiave most recently 
 described these events, and the men who at that time sur- 
 rounded Napoleon, and Napoleon himself, thought otherwise. 
 
 Napoleon rode over the ground, inspected the battle-field 
 profoundly absorbed in thought, moved his head in silent 
 approval ov disapproval, and, without deigning to reveal to
 
 234 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 the generals about him the profound ideas that influenced his 
 decisions, he gave them only definite deductions in the form 
 of orders. 
 
 Davoust, called the Duke of Eckrniihl, having proposed to 
 turn the left flank of the Russians, Napoleon declared that it 
 was unnecessary, without explaining why it was unnecessary. 
 
 To the proposition of General Campan (who was to attack 
 the fleches) to lead his division through the woods, Napoleon 
 gave his consent ; the so-called Duke of Elchingen (that is, 
 Ney) permitted himself to observe that the march through 
 the woods would be dangerous, and might throw the division 
 into disorder. 
 
 Napoleon, having inspected the ground over against the 
 Shevardino redoubt, remained for some time in silent medita- 
 tion ; then he pointed out the positions where two batteries 
 were to be placed for the bombardment of the Russian forti- 
 fications on the next day, and he selected positions on the 
 same line for the field artillery. 
 
 Having given these and other orders, he retired to his tent, 
 and at his dictation the plan of battle was committed to 
 writing. 
 
 This plan, of which French historians speak with enthu- 
 siasm, and which the historians of other nations treat with 
 deep respect, was as follows : 
 
 At daybreak the two new batteries established during the night on the 
 plateau by the Prince of Eckmiihl will open fire upon the two opposing 
 batteries of the enemy. 
 
 At the same moment, General Pernety, commanding the First Corps of 
 artillery, with thirty cannon from Campan's division, and all the howitz- 
 ers of Dessaix's and Friant's divisions, will advance and begin shelling 
 the enemy's battery, which will thus have opposed to it, 
 
 24 pieces of the artillery of the Guard, 
 30 pieces from Campan's division, and 
 8 pieces from Friant's and Dessaix's divisions. 
 
 Total : 62 cannon. 
 
 General Fouche, commanding the Third Corps of artillery, will place 
 himself with all the howitzers of the Third and Eighth Corps, sixteen in 
 number, on the flanks of the battery attacking the left redoubt, giving 
 this battery an effective of 40 pieces. 
 
 General Sorbier will stand ready, at the first word of command, with 
 all the howitzers of the Guard, to bring to bear against one or the other 
 redoubt. 
 
 During the cannonade, Prince Poniatowski will move against the 
 village in the woods, and turn the position of the enemy. 
 
 General Campan will move along the edge of the woods to carry the 
 first redoubt,
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 235 
 
 The battle thus begun, orders will be given according to the enemy's 
 movements. f . 
 
 The cannonade on the left flank will begin at the moment when that 
 on the right is heard. A heavy infantry fire will be opened by Morand's 
 division, and by the divisions of the viceroy, as soon as they see that the 
 attack on the right has begun. , 
 
 The viceroy will take possession of the village,* and debouch by its 
 three bridges upon the heights, while Generals Morand and Gerard will 
 deploy under command of the viceroy to seize the enemy's redoubt and 
 form the line of battle with the other troops. 
 
 All this must be done with order and method (le tout se fera avec 
 ordre et methode), taking care to hold the troops in reserve so far as 
 possible. 
 
 At the imperial camp, near Mozhaisk, Sept. 6, 1812. 
 
 This order very far from clear in its style, and confusing 
 to any one who is sufficiently lacking in religious awe for the 
 genius of Napoleon as to dare analyze its meaning contains 
 Pour points, four commands. Not one of these commands could 
 have been executed ; not one of them was executed. 
 
 In the order of battle the first command read as follows : 
 
 The batteries established at the points selected by Napoleon, with the 
 cannon of Pernetyand Fouche, will place themselves in line, one hundred 
 and two pieces in all, and, opening fire, will storm the Russian outworks 
 and redoubts with shot and shell. 
 
 This could not be done, because from the place selected by 
 Napoleon the missiles did not reach the Russian works, and 
 these one hundred and two cannon thundered in vain until 
 bhe nearest commander ordered them forward, contrary to 
 Napoleon's decree. 
 
 The second command was to this effect : 
 
 Poniatowski will move against the village in the woods, and turn the 
 left wing of the Russians. 
 
 This could not be done and was not done, because Ponia- 
 Lowski, on moving toward the village in the woods, found 
 Tutchkof there blocking the way, and he could not and did 
 not turn the position of the Russians. 
 
 The third command, 
 
 General Campan will move along the edge of the woods to carry the 
 first redoubt. 
 
 Campan's division did not carry the first redoubt, but it 
 was repulsed, because, on emerging from the woods, it was 
 
 * Borodino.
 
 236 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 obliged to close up under the Russian grapeshot, something 
 that Napoleon had not foreseen. 
 Fourth, 
 
 The viceroy will take possession of the village [Borodino], and debouch 
 by its three bridges upon the heights, while Generals Morand and Gerard 
 [who are told neither where nor when to go] will deploy under command 
 of the viceroy to seize the enemy's redoubt and form the line of battle 
 with the other troops. 
 
 So far as it is possible to understand this (not from the 
 vague phraseology employed, but from the viceroy's attempt 
 to carry out the orders he received), it seems he was to move 
 through Borodino from the left upon the redoubt, and that 
 Morand and Gerard's divisions were at the same time to 
 advance from the front. 
 
 This command, like all the rest, was not carried out, 
 because it was impracticable. 
 
 When he had got beyond Borodino, the viceroy was forced 
 back upon the Kalotcha, and found it impossible to advance. 
 Morand and Gerard's divisions did not take any redoubts, but 
 were repulsed, and the redoubt was carried by the cavalry at 
 the close of the battle, a contingency that Napoleon appar- 
 ently had not foreseen. 
 
 Thus not one of the commands in this order was performed 
 or could have been. 
 
 The order further announced that " during the battle thus 
 begun " instructions would be given in accordance with the 
 enemy's movements, and therefore we might infer that Napo- 
 leon, during the battle, made all the suggestions that were 
 necessary. He did, and could have done, nothing of the sort, 
 because throughout the engagement Napoleon happened to 
 be so far away from the field of action that the progress of 
 the battle could not even have been known to him, and not 
 one of his orders during the time of the engagement could 
 have been carried out. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 A NUMBER of historians assert that the battle of Borodino 
 was not gained by the French because Napoleon had a cold in 
 the head, that if "it had not been for this cold, his arrange- 
 ments before and during the battle would have displayed still 
 more genius, and Russia would have been conquered, and the 
 face of the world would have been changed.
 
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 287 
 
 Historians who believe that Russia was formed at the will 
 of one man, Peter the Great, and that France was changed 
 from a republic to an empire and that the French armies 
 invaded Russia at the will of one man, Napoleon, inevitably 
 think that Russia retained power after the battle of Borodino 
 because Napoleon had a bad cold in his head on September 7 ; 
 and such historians are logically consistent. 
 
 If it had depended on Napoleon's will to give or not to give 
 battle at Borodino, on his will to make or not to make such 
 and such dispositions of his forces, then evidently the cold in 
 his heaci$ which had such influence on the manifestation of 
 his will, may have been the cause of the salvation of Russia, 
 and the valet who, on September 5, forgot to provide Napoleon 
 with waterproof boots was the savior of Russia. 
 
 When we have once started on this line of reasoning, this 
 conclusion is inevitable ; just as inevitable as that reached by 
 Voltaire when in jest himself not knowing what he was driv- 
 ing at he demonstrated that the Massacre of Saint Bartholo- 
 mew was due to the fact that Charles IX. suffered from an 
 indigestion. 
 
 But to men who do not grant that Russia was formed at the 
 will of one man, Peter I., and that the French empire arose 
 or that the campaign in Russia was undertaken at the bidding 
 of a single man, Napoleon, such reasoning will appear to be 
 not only false, but contrary to all human experience. To the 
 question, What is the cause of historical events ? a very 
 different answer presents itself, and one that implies that the 
 progress of events on earth is pre-ordained; that it depends 
 on the combined volition of all who participate in these 
 events, and that the influence of Napoleons upon the progress 
 of these events is superficial and fictitious. 
 
 How strange seems at first glance the proposition that the 
 Massacre of Saint Bartholomew, the order for which was given 
 by Charles IX., did not come from his own volition, but that it 
 merely seemed to him that he had ordered it to be done ; or 
 that the battle of Borodino, which cost the lives of eighty 
 thousand men, was not fought through Napoleon's volition, 
 though he gave the orders for the beginning and course of the 
 engagement, but that it merely seemed to him that he had 
 ordered it how strange seems this proposition ; but the 
 dignity of humanity, which tells me that each of us, if he be 
 not more of a man, is at least not less than every Napoleon, 
 directs me to this solution of the problem, and it is powerfully 
 justified by historical facts.
 
 288 WA R AND PEA CE. 
 
 At the battle of Borodino, Napoleon did not shoot anybody 
 or kill anybody. All that was done by his soldiers. Of 
 course he did not do any killing himself. 
 
 The soldiers of the French army went into the battle of 
 Borodino to kill Russian, soldiers, not in consequence of 
 Napoleon's orders, but of their own impulses. The whole 
 army, French, Italians, Germans, Polyaks, famished and in 
 rags, worn out by the campaign, felt, at sight of the Russian 
 army barring the road to Moscow, that the wine was uncorked, 
 and they had only to drink, que le vin est tire et qu'ilfaut 
 le boire. If at this moment Napoleon had forbidden them 
 to fight the Russians they would have killed him and fought 
 with the Russians ; for this was inevitable for them. 
 
 When they heard Napoleon's proclamation which offered 
 them in exchange for mutilation and death, the consoling 
 testimony of posterity that they had been in the battle at 
 Moscow, they cried, " Vive VEmpereur ! " just as they cried 
 " Vim VEmpereur ! " at seeing the picture of the child piercing 
 the terrestrial globe with the bilboquet stick ; and just as 
 they would have shouted " Vive VEmpereur f " to any non- 
 sense proffered to them. 
 
 There was nothing more for them to do than to cry " Vive 
 VEmpereur!" and go into battle in order to reach food and 
 the repose of victors at Moscow. Of course it was not at 
 Napoleon's order that they killed their fellow-men. 
 
 And Napoleon did not direct the progress of the battle, for 
 no part of his plan was carried out ; and during the engage- 
 ment he did not know what was going on before him. 
 
 Of course, how these men killed each other had nothing to 
 do with Napoleon, but was independent of his will ; it was 
 determined by the will of the hundreds of thousands of men 
 who took part in the combat. It only seemed to Napoleon 
 that it proceeded by his will. 
 
 Thus the question, " Did or did not Napoleon have a cold 
 in his head ? " is of no more importance to history than the 
 question whether the most insignificant train-hand had a cold 
 in the head. 
 
 The fact that Napoleon was afflicted with a cold in the head 
 on September 7 is still more insignificant because the asser- 
 tions made by writers that this cold in the head caused Napo- 
 leon's dispositions and orders at the time of the battle to be 
 less skilful than those in times past, are perfectly false. 
 
 The plan, here described, was not at all inferior it was 
 even superior to all the plans by which his previous battles
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 239 
 
 had been won. The imaginary combinations during this 
 battle were not in the least inferior to those of previous 
 battles ; they were just the same as always. But these dis- 
 positions and combinations seem less fortunate because the 
 battle of Borodino was the first battle that Napoleon did not 
 win. The best plans and the most sagacious dispositions and 
 combinations in the world seem very poor, and every scien- 
 tific soldier does not hesitate to criticise them with solemn 
 face, when they do not end in victory ! And the feeblest dis- 
 positions and combinations seem very excellent, and learned 
 men devote entire volumes to the demonstration of the 
 superiority of wretched plans when they are crowned with 
 success. 
 
 The plan proposed by Weirother for the battle of Auster- 
 litz was a model of its kind, but it was nevertheless condemned 
 for its very perfection, for its superabundance of details. 
 
 Napoleon at the battle of Borodino played his part as 
 representative of power as well as in other battles even 
 better. He did nothing that could hinder the successful 
 course of -the battle ; he accepted the most reasonable advice ; 
 he did not confuse his orders, he did not contradict himself, 
 he did not lose heart, he did not abandon the field of battle, 
 but with all his tact and his great experience in war he played 
 with calmness and dignity the part of a fictitious commander. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 ON returning from his second solicitous tour of inspection 
 along the line, Napoleon said, 
 
 " The chessmen are set, the game will begin to-morrow." 
 
 Calling for a glass of punch, and summoning Beausset, he 
 began to talk with him about Paris, and discuss various altera- 
 tions which he proposed to make in the empress's household, 
 la maison de V Imperatrice, causing wonder at the atten- 
 tion which he gave to the minutest details of court manage- 
 ment. 
 
 He displayed great interest in trifles, he jested at Beausset's 
 fondness for travel, and with perfect coolness he chatted just 
 as a famous and self-confident surgeon, who knew his busi- 
 ness, might do, even while he rolls up his cuffs and puts on 
 his apron and the patient is fastened to the operating-table. 
 
 " The whole thing is in my hands and in my head, clearly 
 and definitely. When the time comes to act, I will do my
 
 240 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 work, as no one else could, but now I can jest ; and the more I 
 jest and appear calm and collected, the more should you be 
 confident, trustful, and amazed at my genius." 
 
 After drinking a second glass of punch, Xapoleon went to 
 rest before the serious affair which, as it seemed to him, was 
 waiting for him on the next day. 
 
 He was so much interested in this affair that was before 
 him, that ^ he could not sleep, and, in spite of his cold, which 
 had been increased by the evening dampness, he got up about 
 three o'clock in the morning, and, loudly blowing his nose, 
 passed into the outer division of his tent. He asked if the 
 Eussians had not retreated. He was told that the enemy's 
 fires were still burning in the same places. He nodded his 
 head approvingly. The aide-de-camp on duty entered the 
 tent. 
 
 1 ~,,,^ ..*. v, iv/vy.,!.. J.WLL it nicjii uci, \uur iiiciiefci 
 
 you did me the honor of remarking at Smolensk, ' The 
 
 uncorked, we have only to drink it.' " * 
 
 ^ Napoleon frowned, and sat for some time in silence, resting 
 his head on his hands. " This poor army," he exclaimed sud- 
 denly, "has been seriously diminishing since we left Smolensk. 
 Fortune is a fickle jade, Rapp ; I always said so, and I am 
 beginning to experience it. But the Guard, Rapp, the Guard 
 is undiminished ? " t he said, with a questioning reflection. 
 
 " Yes, your majesty," replied Rapp. 
 
 Xapoleon took a lozenge, put it in his mouth, and glanced 
 at his watch. He felt no inclination to sleep, though it was 
 still long before morning ; but it was impossible to issue any 
 more orders for the sake of killing time, for they had all been 
 made, and \vere even then being executed. 
 
 " Have the biscuits and rice been distributed among the regi- 
 ments of the Guard ? " demanded Napoleon, sternly? 
 
 " Oui, sire." 
 
 " But the rice ? " 
 
 Rapp replied that he had issued the emperor's orders in 
 regard to the rice, but Xapoleon shook his head angrily, as 
 though he had no confidence in his orders having been fulfilled. 
 
 7 , * " E ,l l bien > Ra PP> cror/ez-roiis que nous fervns de bonnes, affaires aujour- 
 dhm? Hans aucun doute, sire. Vous rappelez-vons, sire, ce que vous 
 marczjait Ihonneur de dire Smolensk, 'Le vin est tire, il faut le boire'?" 
 t Cette pnuvre armee! elle a bien dimimie'e depuis Smolensk. La fortune 
 est unefranche courtisane; je le disais ton jours, et je commence a I'eprouvcr- 
 Mais i.a garde, Rapp, la garde est intacte ? "
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 241 
 
 The servant came in with the punch. Napoleon commanded 
 another glass to be given to Rapp, and silently sipped from 
 his own 
 
 "I have no taste or smell," said he, sniffing at the glass. 
 "This influenza is a nuisance. They talk about medicine. 
 What does medicine amount to when they can't even cure a 
 cold ! Corvisart gave me these lozenges, but they don't help 
 me any. What can they cure ? What can physic do ? Noth- 
 ing at all ! Our body is a living machine. It is organized for 
 that purpose, that is its nature ; let the life in it be left to 
 itself ; let it defend itself ; it will do more than if you 
 paralyze it by loading it down with remedies. Our body is 
 like a perfect watch which is meant to go a certain time ; the 
 watchmaker cannot open it ; he can only regulate it by his sense 
 of feeling and with his eyes shut. Our body is a living ma- 
 chine, that is all it is." * 
 
 And Napoleon having got upon the subject of definitions, 
 of which he was very fond, he suddenly and unexpectedly 
 made still a new one. 
 
 " Rapp, do you know what the art of war is ? " he asked. 
 " It is the art of being stronger than the enemy at a given 
 moment Voila tout ! " 
 
 Rapp made no reply. 
 
 " To-morrow we shall have Kutuzof to deal with," said 
 Napoleon. " We shall see. You remember he commanded 
 the armies at Braunau, and not once during three weeks did 
 he mount a horse to inspect the fortifications. We shall see ! " 
 
 He glanced at his watch. It was only four o'clock. He 
 still had no desire to sleep ; the punch was drunk up, and still 
 there was nothing to do. He got up, began to pace up and 
 down ; then he put on his thick overcoat and hat and went 
 outside the tent. The night was dark and damp ; one could 
 almost hear the moisture falling. The bivouac fires, even 
 those near at hand, burned far from brightly, and those in the 
 distance, in the Russian lines, gleamed dimly through the 
 wrack. Through the silence clearly could be heard the bustle 
 and trampling of the French troops, already beginning to 
 move to their designated positions. 
 
 Napoleon walked out in front of his tent, gazed at the 
 
 * "Notre corps est line machine-a-vivre. II est organise pour cela ; c'est sa 
 nature; laissez-y la vie a son aise, qiCelle .s'?/ defends elle-meme ; c.lle fera 
 plus que si vous la paralys.iez en Vencovnbrarit de reme'des. Notre corps est 
 une montre parfaite qui doit aller un certain temps : l'horloc/er ri*a pas la 
 faculte de I'ouvrir ; il ne pent la manier qu'a tdtons et les yeux bandes. Notre 
 corps est une machine-a-vivre : voila tout ! " 
 VOL. 3. 16.
 
 242 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 fires, listened to the growing tumult, and, as he passed by a 
 tall grenadier in a dampened hat, who was on duty as sentinel 
 by his tent, and standing stiff and straight like a pillar when the 
 emperor appeared, Napoleon paused : 
 
 _ "How long have you been in the service ? " he asked, with 
 his ordinary affectation of hearty and affectionate military 
 bkmtness, which he always employed when dealing with his 
 soldiers. The soldier answered him, 
 
 " Ah ! un des vieux " a veteran. 
 
 " Has your regiment received the rice ? " 
 
 "We have, your majesty." 
 
 Napoleon nodded and left him. 
 
 At half-past five, Napoleon mounted and rode to the village 
 of Shevardino. 
 
 It was beginning to grow light ; the sky was clearing ; only 
 a single cloud lay against the east. The deserted bivouac 
 nres were dying out in the pale light of the morning. 
 
 At the right thundered a single heavy cannon-shot, prolonged 
 by the echoes, and finally dying away amid the general silence. 
 
 There was an interval of several minutes. A second shofc 
 then a third rolled out, shaking the very air; a fourth, a fifth 
 answered near at hand, and solemnly, somewhere at the right. 
 
 The echoes of the first cannon shots had not died away 
 when still others joined in, then more and more, mingling and 
 blending in one continuous roar. 
 
 Napoleon galloped with his suite to the Shevardino redoubt 
 and there dismounted. 
 
 The game had begun. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 HAVING returned to Gorki from his visit to Prince Andrei 
 Pierre gave his orders to his equerry to have his horses ready,' 
 and to waken him early in the morning, and then immediately 
 went to sleep behind the screen in the corner which Boris had 
 kindly offered him. 
 
 When Pierre was fairly awake the next morning there was 
 not a soul in the cottage. The window-panes in the little 
 windows were rattling. His equerry was standing by him 
 shaking him. 
 
 " Your illustriousness, your illustriousness, your illustrious- 
 ness ! " exclaimed the equerry, stubbornly shaking him by
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 243 
 
 the shoulder, and apparently hopeless of being able to wake 
 him. 
 
 " What ? Has it begun ? Is it time ? " demanded Pierre, 
 opening his eyes. 
 
 " Be good enough to listen to the firing," said the equerry, 
 who had once been a soldier. 
 
 " The gentlemen have all gone. His serene highness went 
 long ago." 
 
 Pierre hurriedly dressed and went out on the steps. Out- 
 side it was bright, cool, dewy, and cheerful. The sun was just 
 making its way out from under the cloud which had obscured 
 it momentarily, and poured its rays through the breaking 
 clouds, across the roofs of the opposite houses, over the dusty 
 road covered with dew, on the walls of the houses, on the 
 windows of the cathedral, and Pierre's horses standing near 
 the cottage. Out of doors the rolling of the cannon was heard 
 more distinctly. An adjutant, followed by his Cossack, was 
 galloping down the street. 
 
 " It is time, count, time," cried the adjutant. 
 
 Ordering the man to follow him with his horse, Pierre walked 
 along the road to the mound from the top of which, the day 
 before, he had surveyed the field of battle. Here were col- 
 lected a throng of military men, and he could hear the mem- 
 bers of the staff talking French, and he could see Kutuzof's 
 .gray head covered with a white hat with red band, and the 
 gray nape of his neck sunk between his shoulders. He was 
 gazing through his field-glass to the front along the highway. 
 As Pierre mounted the steps that led to the top of the mound, 
 he looked out over the prospect, and was overwhelmed at the 
 beauty of the spectacle. 
 
 It was the same panorama which he had surveyed the day 
 before from the same elevation ; but now all those localities 
 were covered with troops and the smoke of the cannon, and 
 the slanting rays of the bright sun rising behind Pierre at the 
 left fell upon it through the clear morning atmosphere in 
 floods of light, shot with golden and rosy tones and intermin- 
 gled with long, dark shadows. 
 
 The distant forests which bounded the panorama, just as 
 though it were hewn out of some precious yellow-green gem, 
 traced the curving line of the tree-tops against the horizon, and 
 between them, beyond Valuyevo, the great Smolensk highway, 
 now all covered with troops, cut its way. 
 
 Still nearer gleamed the golden fields and groves. Every- 
 where, in front and behind, at the right hand and at the left,
 
 244 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 the armies were swarming. The whole scene was animated, 
 majestic, and marvellous; but what surprised Pierre more 
 than all was the spectacle of the battle-field itself, Borodino 
 and the valley through' which the Kalotcha River ran. 
 
 Over the Kalotcha at Borodino, and on both sides of the 
 river, more noticeably on the left bank, where, through marshy 
 intervales, the Vonia falls into the Kalotcha, was that mist 
 which so mysteriously veils, spreads, and grows transparent as 
 the bright sun mounts, and magically colors and transforms 
 everything which is seen through it. 
 
 The smoke of the cannon was blending with this mist, and 
 over this blended mist and smoke, everywhere, gleamed the 
 lightning flashes of the morning brilliancy, here over the 
 water, there on dewy meadows, there on the bayonets of 
 the infantry swarming along the banks and in the village. 
 
 Through this mist could be seen a white church, a few roofs 
 of Borodino cottages, here and there compact masses of sol- 
 diers, here and there green caissons, cannons. And this scene 
 was' in motion, or seemed to be in motion, because this mist 
 and smoke was stretched over the whole space. On these 
 lowlands around Borodino covered with mist, so also above 
 and especially at the left, over the whole line, over the woods 
 over the fields, in the hollows, on the summits of the risino- 
 ground, constantly born, self-evolved from nothing, rose the 
 puffs of cannon-smoke ; now singly, -now in groups ; now scat- 
 tered, now clustered; and as they formed, and grew, and 
 coalesced, and melted together, they seemed to cover the whole 
 space. These puffs of cannon-smoke and, strange to say the 
 sounds that accompanied them, constituted the chief charm of 
 the spectacle. 
 
 Puff! suddenly appeared a round, compact ball of smoke 
 playing in violet, gray, and milk-white hues, aaid lummf 
 would follow m a second the report of this smoke-ball. 
 
 Puff, puff! arose two balls of smoke jostling and blending 
 and -bumm.' bumm f came the coalescing sounds that con- 
 firmed what the eye had seen. 
 
 Pierre gazed at the first puff of smoke which he still saw as 
 a round, compact ball, and before he knew it, its place was 
 taken by two balls of smoke borne off to one side, and puff 
 with an interval puff, puff, rose three others, then four 
 others, and each was followed at intervals with the bumm 
 bumm, bumm genuine, beautiful, satisfying sounds Some- 
 times it seemed as though these puffs of smoke were flyino- 
 sometimes as though they were standing still, while past them 
 new the forests, the fields, and the glittering bayonets.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 245 
 
 On the left, over the meadows and clumps of trees, these 
 great balls of smoke were constantly rising with their solemn 
 voices, and still nearer, over the lowlands and along the forests, 
 burst forth the little puffs of musket-smoke which had no time 
 to form into balls, and yet these, in precisely the same way, 
 uttered their little resonances. Trak/i-ta-ta-takh ! rattled the 
 musketry, though irregularly and frequent and pale in com- 
 parison with the cannon-shots. 
 
 Pierre had an intense longing to be where those puffs of 
 smoke originated, those glittering bayonets, that movement, 
 those sounds. 
 
 He looked at Kutuzof and at his suite, so as to compare his 
 own impressions with those of others. All, exactly the, same 
 as he himself, and, as it seemed to him, with the same senti- 
 ment, were gazing down upon the field of battle. All faces 
 now were lighted up by that latent heat which Pierre had 
 observed the day before, and which he understood perfectly 
 after his conversation with Prince Andrei. 
 
 " Go on, my dear,* go on ; Christ be with you," Kutuzof 
 was saying to a general standing near him, but he kept his 
 eyes fixed on the battle-field. 
 
 On hearing this command, the general went past Pierre on 
 his way to the descent clown the hill. 
 
 " To the crossing," replied the general coldly and sternly, 
 to one of the staff, who asked where he was going. 
 
 " I too, I too," said Pierre to himself, and he followed in the 
 direction taken by the general. 
 
 The general mounted his horse, which his Cossack led for- 
 ward. Pierre went to his equerry, who had his horses in 
 charge. Asking which was the gentlest, Pierre mounted, 
 grasped his mane, gouged his heels into the horse's flanks, and 
 feeling that his spectacles were going to tumble off, and that 
 he could not possibly remove his hands from the mane and 
 bridle, he went cantering after the general, arousing the laugh- 
 ter of the staff, who were looking at him from the hill-top. 
 
 CHAPTEE XXXI. 
 
 THE general whom Pierre was following rode down the 
 hillside the shortest way and then turned to the left, and 
 Pierre, losing him from sight, came full upon a file of infantry 
 who were marching in his direction. He tried to get past 
 
 * Golubchik,
 
 246 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 them in front, then at the left, and then at the right ; but 
 everywhere there were soldiers, all with anxious, eager faces ; 
 all engaged in some invisible but evidently important action. 
 All, with similarly involuntarily questioning glances, looked 
 at this portly man in the white hat, who, for some unknown 
 reason, insisted on trampling them down with his horse. 
 
 " What makes you ride in front of the battalion ? " cried 
 one to him. Another poked his horse with the but-end of 
 his musket, and Pierre, clinging to the saddle and scarcely able 
 to restrain his plunging horse, galloped in front of the soldiers 
 where there was room. 
 
 In front of him there was a bridge, and near the bridge 
 other soldiers were stationed, firing. Pierre rode up to them. 
 Not knowing why he did so, Pierre had approached the bridge 
 over the Kalotcha, between Borodino and Gorki, where in the 
 first action of the battle (called Borodino) the French made a 
 charge. 
 
 Pierre saw that there was a bridge before him, and that on 
 both ends of the bridge, and on the meadow, among the haycocks 
 which he had noticed the day before, the soldiers were doing 
 something ; but, in spite of the incessant firing going on in this 
 place, it never once occurred to him that here was the battle- 
 field. He heard not the sounds of the bullets whizzing on all 
 sides, or the projectiles flying over his head ; he saw not the 
 enemy on the other side of the river, and it was long before he 
 saw the killed and wounded, although many were falling not 
 far from him. With a smile that did not leave his lips, he 
 glanced around him. 
 
 " What makes that man ride in front of the line ? " again 
 cried some one. 
 
 "Take the right take the left ! " they cried to him. 
 
 Pierre took the left, and unexpectedly fell in with one of 
 General Eayevsky's adjutants whom he knew. This adjutant 
 looked fiercely at Pierre, evidently with the intention of 
 shouting some command, but then, recognizing him, he shook 
 his head. 
 
 " How come you here ? " he cried and dashed away. 
 
 Pierre, feeling that he was out of place and useless, and 
 fearing lest he should be a hinderance to some one, galloped 
 after the adjutant. 
 
 " What is this here ? Can I go with you ? " he asked. 
 
 "Wait a moment," replied the adjutant, and, riding up to a 
 stout colonel who was stationed on the meadow, he gave him 
 some order, and immediately turned back to Pierre.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 247 
 
 " How do you happen to get here, count ? " he demanded 
 with a smile. " Is it out of curiosity ? " 
 
 " Yes, yes," replied Pierre. 
 
 But the adjutant, wheeling, started to gallop away. "Here 
 it is all right, thank God," said he, "but on the left flank, 
 where Bagration is, there's frightfully hot work going on." 
 
 " Really ? " exclaimed Pierre. " Where is that ? " 
 
 " Come with me to the hill : you can see very well from 
 there, and at our battery there it is still endurable/' said the 
 adjutant. 
 
 " Yes, I will go with you," returned Pierre, looking around 
 him and trying to discover his equerry. Then only for the 
 first time Pierre caught sight of the wounded, dragging them- 
 selves to the rear on foot or borne on stretchers. On the same 
 plot of meadow land, with the wind-rows of fragrant hay, over 
 which he had ridden the evening before, there lay, right amidst 
 the ranks, a soldier motionless, with his head awkwardly 
 thrown back and his shako knocked off. 
 
 " But why have they not carried him off ? " Pierre was going 
 to ask, but, seeing the adjutant's stern face turned to the same 
 spot, he refrained. 
 
 Pierre could not discoyer his equerry, and so he rode in 
 company with the adjutant down across the hollow to 
 E-ayevsky's hill. Pierre's horse could not keep up with the 
 adjutant's, and shook him at every step. 
 
 "You are apparently not used to riding on horseback, 
 count ? " suggested the adjutant. 
 
 " No, it's nothing ; but somehow he limps badly," said Pierre 
 in perplexity. 
 
 " E e ! but he's wounded," said the adjutant, " right fore- 
 leg, above the knee. Must have been a bullet. I congratulate 
 you, count," said he, ' le bapteme du feu ! ' " 
 
 Making their way through the wrack to the Sixth Corps, 
 behind the artillery, which, unlimbered forward, was blazing 
 away with a stunning thunder of discharges, they reached a 
 grove. Here in the grove it was cool and still, and smelt like 
 autumn. Pierre and the adjutant dismounted and went up 
 the hill on foot. 
 
 " Where is the general ? " asked the adjutant, as he reached 
 the top. 
 
 " He's just gone, he went yonder, 5 ' was the answer, the men 
 pointing to the right. 
 
 The adjutant glanced at Pierre, as though he did not 
 what to do with him now.
 
 248 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 "Don't disturb yourself on my account," said Pierre. "1 
 will go to the top of the hill ; can't I ? " 
 
 " Yes, do so ; you can see everything from there, and it 
 won't be so dangerous. And I will come back after you." 
 
 Pierre went to the battery, and the adjutant went on his 
 way. They did not meet again, and it was not till long after 
 that Pierre learned that this adjutant lost an arm on that day. 
 
 The knrgdn or hill on which Pierre had come, became after- 
 wards known to the Russians as the Kurgan battery or 
 Bayevsky's battery, and to the French as la grande redouts, la 
 fatale redouts, la redouts du centre. It was the place around 
 which tens of thousands of men were slain, and the French 
 considered it the most important point of the whole position. 
 
 This redoubt consisted of the kurgan, on three sides of 
 which trenches had been dug. In this place, surrounded by 
 the trenches, were stationed ten active cannon, discharging 
 through the embrasures of the earthworks. 
 
 In a line with the kurgan cannon were stationed, on either 
 side, also belching forth continuous discharges. A little to 
 the rear of the cannon stood the infantry. 
 
 Pierre, on reaching this kurgan, never once dreamed that this 
 small space intrenched with earthworks where he w r as stand- 
 ing, and where a few cannon were in full blast, was the most 
 important point of the whole battle. On the contrary, it 
 seemed to Pierre that this place, simply because he had come 
 to it, was one of the most unimportant places of the battle- 
 field. 
 
 On reaching the kurgan, Pierre sat down at one end of a 
 trench which enclosed the battery, and with a smile of 
 unconscious satisfaction gazed at what was going on around 
 him. Occasionally with the same smile he would get to his 
 feet, and, at the same time trying not to be in the way of the 
 soldiers who were loading and pushing forward the guns or 
 constantly passing him with powder and shot, he would walk 
 through the battery. The cannon in this battery were con- 
 stantly fired one after another with an over\vhelming crash, 
 and the whole place was swathed in gunpowder smoke. 
 
 In contradistinction to that sense of gloom which is always 
 felt among the infantry soldiers of a covering force, in a bat- 
 tery where a small band of men are limited and shut off from 
 the rest by a trench, here there is a sort of family feeling, 
 which is shared equally by all. 
 
 The appearance of Pierre's unmilitary figure, in his white 
 hat, at first struck these men unpleasantly. The soldiers pass-
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 249 
 
 ing him looked askance at him with a mixture of amazement 
 and timidity. The senior artillery officer, a tall, long-legged, 
 pock-marked man, under the pretence of inspecting the be- 
 havior of the endmost cannon, came where Pierre was and gazed 
 inquisitively at him. 
 
 A young, round-faced little officer, still a mere lad, who had 
 evidently just come out of the " Korpus," and who was very 
 zealously commanding the two guns committed to his charge, 
 looked fiercely at Pierre. 
 
 " We must ask you, sir, to go away ; you cannot remain here." 
 
 The soldiers shook their heads disapprovingly as they looked 
 at Pierre. But when all were convinced that this man in the 
 white hat was not only doing no harm as he sat calmly on the 
 talus of the trench or walked up and down the battery, facing 
 the missiles as steadily as though he were on the boulevard, 
 and with his genial smile politely making way for the soldiers, 
 then gradually this feeling of disapproval and perplexity be- 
 gan to give place to an affectionate and jocose sympathy such 
 as soldiers are apt to manifest for dogs, cocks, goats, and other 
 animals that are found in their ranks. These soldiers instantly 
 adopted Pierre into their family, and gave him a nickname. 
 " Nash barin " " Our Gentleman " was what they called 
 him, and they good-naturedly laughed about him among them- 
 selves. 
 
 A round shot tore up the earth within two paces of Pierre. 
 Shaking off the dirt which the missile scattered over him, 
 Pierre glanced around 'with a smile. 
 
 "'Didn't that frighten you, barin ? truly, didn't it? " asked a 
 broad soldier with a rubicund face, displaying his strong white 
 teeth. 
 
 " Why, are you afraid ? " retorted Pierre. 
 
 " How can one help it ? " replied the soldier. " You see, she 
 has no mercy. If she strikes, your innards fly ! So one can't 
 help being afraid," said he with a laugh. 
 
 Several soldiers with jovial, friendly faces were standing 
 near Pierre. They seemed not to have expected him to speak 
 like other men, and to find that he did surprised them. 
 
 " Soldiering's our business. But this man is a barin, so it's 
 wonderful ! What a barin he is ! " 
 
 " To your places," commanded the young officer to the sol- 
 diers collecting round Pierre. This young officer was evidently 
 for the first or perhaps the second time on duty of this kind, 
 and accordingly he behaved to his men and his superiors with 
 especial preciseness and formality. The rolling thunder of
 
 250 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 the cannon and of the musketry was intensified all over the 
 Held, noticeably at the left, where Bag-ration's fleches were 
 situated, but Pierre, owing to the smoke of the discharges, 
 could see nothing at all from where he was. 
 
 Moreover, Pierre's entire attention was absorbed in watch- 
 ing what was going on in this little circle, this adopted family 
 as it were separated from all the rest. Unconsciously his 
 first feeling of gratification aroused by the sights and sounds 
 of the battle-field had changed character, now, especially since 
 he had seen that soldier lying by himself on the meadow. 
 As he sat now on the talus of the trench he contemplated the 
 faces around him. 
 
 It was only ten o'clock, but a score of men had been already 
 carried from the battery ; two of the cannon were dismounted, 
 and the missiles were falling into the battery with greater and 
 greater frequency, and the shot flew over their heads with 
 screeching and whizzing. But the men who were serving the 
 battery seemed to pay no heed to this ; on all sides were 
 heard only gay talk and jests. 
 
 " Old stuffing ! " * cried a soldier to a shell that flew close 
 over his head with a whiz. 
 
 "This is the wrong place. Go to the infantry," added a 
 second, perceiving that the shell flew over and struck in the 
 ranks of the covering forces. 
 
 "What is that, an acquaintance of yours?" asked another 
 with a laugh, as a muzhik bowed under a round shot that 
 went flying over. 
 
 A few soldiers collected around the breastwork, trying to 
 make out what was going on at the front. 
 
 " Well, they've captured the lines, do you see ; they're re- 
 treating.," said they, pointing across the breastwork. 
 
 "Mind your own business," cried an old sergeant. "If 
 they're retiring, of course it's because they're needed else- 
 where." 
 
 And the non-commissioned officer, seizing one of the soldiers 
 by the shoulder, gave him a boost with his knee. A roar of 
 laughter was heard. 
 
 " Serve No. 5 ! Forward ! " rang out on one side. 
 
 " A long pull, and a strong pull, and a pull all together," 
 cheerfully shouted the men who were pushing the cannon 
 forward. 
 
 " Ai I that one almost took our barin's hat off," cried the rubi- 
 cund jester, with a laugh that showed his teeth. "Ekh ' you 
 * Chinytinka : any object filled with anything,
 
 WAR AND PVACE. 251 
 
 beastly thing," he added reproachfully to the ball, which car- 
 ried off a gun-Avheel and a man's leg. 
 
 " Well, you foxes ! " cried another with a laugh to the land- 
 wehr men, who, all bent double, came forward tothe battery, 
 to remove the wounded. " Isn't this gruel to your taste ? 
 Akh ! you crows ! * are you frozen stiff ? " cried the soldiers 
 to the militia-men, who were dismayed at the sight of the sol- 
 dier with the leg torn off. " That's only a little one ! " said 
 they, imitating the dialect of the peasants. " Don't like to be 
 afraid, do you ? " 
 
 Pierre observed how after the fall of each new missile, after 
 each new loss, the general excitement became more and more 
 intensified. 
 
 Just as when a heavy thunder shower is approaching, more 
 and more frequently, more and more dazzlingly, flashed forth 
 on the faces of all these men the lightnings of that latent but 
 now developing heat. It was as though called forth by resist- 
 ance. 
 
 Pierre did not look out on the battle-field, and he was not 
 interested in knowing what was going on there : he was en- 
 tirely absorbed in the contemplation of this ever more and 
 more developing fire, which now in exactly the same way 
 he was conscious was also kindling in his own soul. 
 
 At ten o'clock, the infantry, who had been in front of the 
 battery, in the thickets, and along the Kamenka, or Stony 
 Brook, retreated. From the battery they could be seen run- 
 ning back past it, carrying their wounded on their muskets. 
 
 A general with his suite dashed up the kurgan, and, after 
 exchanging a few words with the colonel and giving Pierre a 
 fierce look, rode back down again, ordering the covering infan- 
 try who were stationed behind the battery, to lie down, so as 
 not to expose themselves to the missiles. Immediately after 
 this, in the ranks of the infantry, at the right of the battery 
 were heard the rolling of a drum and shouts of command, and 
 they in the battery could see how the ranks of infantry 
 moved forward. 
 
 Pierre looked over the breastworks. One face especially 
 struck his eye. This was a pale-faced young officer, who was 
 marching with them backwards, holding his sword-point down 
 and looking anxiously around. 
 
 The ranks of infantry disappeared in the smoke, their pro- 
 longed cheer was heard and the continuous rattle of their 
 musketry fire. After a few minutes a throng of wounded men 
 walking and on stretchers came straggling back. 
 * Vortinui : crows ; means also simpletons.
 
 252 WAR AXD PEACE. 
 
 The missiles kept falling with greater and greater frequency 
 on the battery. A number of soldiers lay unattended. The 
 men around the cannon were working with renewed vigor and 
 zeal. Xo or*e any longer paid attention to Pierre. Twice he 
 was angrily told that he was in the way. The senior officer, 
 with a frowning face, strode with long, swift steps from gun 
 to gun. The young officer, with his face more flushed than 
 ever, gave his command to his men with ever increasing 
 vehemence. The soldiers came and went with the projectiles, 
 and loaded and did their duty with ever more zealously burn- 
 ing activity and dash. They jumped about as though they 
 were moved by springs. 
 
 The thunder-cloud had come close at hand, and brightly on 
 all faces burned that fire the kindling of which Pierre had 
 been watching. He was standing near the senior officer. The 
 young officer came hastening to the elder and saluted him, 
 finger at visor. 
 
 " I have the honor of reporting, Mr. Colonel, that there are 
 only eight shot left. Do you order us to go on ? " 
 
 " Grape ! ''' cried the old officer, gazing over the rampart, and 
 not giving any definite answer. 
 
 Suddenly something happened : the little officer shrieked, 
 and fell upon the ground all of a heap, like a bird shot on the 
 wing. Everything became strange, dark, and gloomy in 
 Pierre's eyes. 
 
 One following another the projectiles came screaming, and 
 buried themselves in the breastwork, among the soldiers, 
 among the cannon. Pierre, who before had not heard these 
 sounds, now heard nothing except these sounds. At one side, 
 at the right of the battery, with their cheers hurrah ! the 
 soldiers were running, not forward as it seemed to Pierre, but 
 back to the rear. 
 
 A shot struck on the very edge of the rampart where Pierre 
 was standing, scattered the earth, and a black ball flashed in 
 front of his eyes and at the same instant fell with a dull thud 
 into something. The landwehr, who had been coming up to 
 the battery, were in full retreat. 
 
 " All grape ! " cried the officer. 
 
 The sergeant hastened up to his senior, and in a frightened 
 whisper just as at dinner the butler reports to his master 
 that the wine called for is all out reported that all the 
 ammunition was used up. 
 
 "The villains! what are they doing?" cried the officer, 
 turning round to Pierre. The 'old officer's face was flushed
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 253 
 
 and sweaty, his eyes were gleaming fiercely. "Run back to 
 the reserves, have the caissons brought," he cried, crossly avoid- 
 ing Pierre's glance and addressing his command to his orderly. 
 
 "I will go," cried Pierre. The officer, not heeding him, 
 went with long strides to the other side. 
 
 " Don't fire ! Wait ! " he shouted. 
 
 The orderly who had been commanded to go after ammuni- 
 tion ran into Pierre. 
 
 " Ekh ! barin, this is no place for you here," said he, and he 
 started on the run down the slope. 
 
 Pierre ran after the soldier, avoiding the place where the 
 young officer lay. 
 
 One shot, a second, a third flew over his head ; they struck 
 in front of him, on both sides of him, and behind him. Pierre 
 ran down the slope. " Where am I going ? " He suddenly 
 remembered, even while he was hastening up to the green 
 caissons. He stopped irresolutely, undecided whether to go 
 forward or back. Suddenly a terrible shock threw him back 
 on the ground. At the same instant a sheet of a mighty fire 
 flashed into his eyes, and at the same instant a noise like a 
 thunder-clap, stunning and terrific, a crash and a whiz, over- 
 whelmed him. 
 
 Pierre, having recovered his senses, sat up, supporting him- 
 self on his hands. The caisson near which he had been 
 standing had disappeared; .only on the scorched grass were 
 scattered a few pieces of the green painted wood of the car- 
 riage, and smoking rags ; and one horse, shaking off the frag- 
 ments of the shafts, was galloping off, while another like 
 Pierre himself was lying on the ground, and screaming in 
 its long agony. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 PIERRE, in his terror, not knowing what he was doing, sprang 
 to his feet and ran back to the battery, as though it were the 
 only refuge from the horrors surrounding him. 
 
 When he reached the intrenchment, he observed that there 
 was no sound of firing any longer from the battery, but that 
 men were engaged in doing something there. Pierre had no 
 time to make out who these men were. He saw the old 
 colonel leaning over the breastwork, with his back to him, as 
 though he were watching something below, and he saw one of 
 the artillerists, whom he had already observed, struggling to
 
 254 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 get away from some men who had him by the arm, and crying 
 "Brothers! Brothers!" 
 
 He also saw something else that was strange. But he had 
 no time to realize that the colonel was killed, and that the 
 man was crying for help, and that under his very eyes a 
 second soldier was stabbed in the back by a bayonet thrust. 
 He had hardly set foot in the intrenchment before a lean, 
 sallow, sweaty-faced man, with a sword in his hand, leaped 
 upon him, shouting something. Pierre instinctively avoided 
 the shock, as men do who are about to run into each other, 
 and, putting out his hand, he seized this man he was a 
 French officer by the sjioulder with one hand and grasped 
 his throat with the other. The officer, dropping his sword, 
 seized Pierre by the. collar. 
 
 For some seconds they each gazed with startled eyes into 
 each other's faces, and both were uncertain as to what they 
 had done and what they were going to do. " Has he taken 
 me prisoner, or have I taken him prisoner ? " each of them 
 was wondering. But apparently the French officer was rather 
 inclined to believe that he was taken prisoner, for the reason 
 that Pierre's powerful hand, involuntarily clinching under the 
 influence of fear, was squeezing his throat ever tighter and 
 tighter. The Frenchman was just trying to say something, 
 when suddenly over their very heads, narrowly missing them 
 and terribly screeching, flew a projectile, and it seemed to 
 Pierre that the French officer's head was torn off, so quickly 
 he ducked it. 
 
 Pierre also ducked his head, and released his hand. No 
 longer puzzling over the question which had taken the other 
 prisoner, the Frenchman ran back to the battery, while Pierre 
 ran down the hill, stumbling over the dead and wounded, who, 
 it seemed to him, grasped after' his feet. But he had not 
 more than reached the bottom before he came full upon a 
 dense mass of Kussian soldiers, who, stumbling and falling 
 and cheering, full of dash and spirit, were on the double-quick 
 toward the battery. 
 
 This was the charge for which Yermolof took the credit, 
 declaring that only by his gallantry and good fortune was it 
 possible to have achieved this success : the charge during 
 which one might say he scattered over the kurgan the St. 
 George crosses that had been in his pockets. 
 
 The French who had taken the battery fled. Our troops, 
 with cheers, drove the French so far beyond the battery that 
 it was hard to brin^ them to a halt.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 255 
 
 The prisoners were led away from the battery, in their num- 
 ber a wounded French general, around whom the officers 
 crowded. 
 
 A throng of wounded, Russians and French, some of them 
 known and many unknown to Pierre, their faces distorted with 
 agony, crawled or limped, or were carried away on stretchers. 
 
 Pierre went up on the kurgan again, where he had spent 
 more than an hour already, and of that little " family circle,'* 
 which had, as it were, adopted him, he found not one. There 
 were many dead lying there, but they were strangers. Some 
 he recognized. The young officer was lying, all in a heap, as 
 before, in a little pool of blood at the edge -of the parapet. 
 The rubicund soldier was twitching a little, but they had not 
 carried him away. 
 
 Pierre went back again. 
 
 " No, now they must surely put an end to this ; now they 
 must begin to feel remorse- for what they have been doing," 
 thought Pierre, aimlessly taking the same direction as the 
 line of litters that was slowly moving from the battle-field. 
 
 But the sun, obscured by smoke, was still high in the 
 heavens, and at the front, and especially at the left at Seme- 
 novskoye, there was a great commotion in the smoke, and the 
 thunder of guns and cannon not only did not slacken, but 
 rather increased, even to desperation, like a man who, perish- 
 ing, collects his forces to utter one last cry. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 THE principal action in the battle of Borodino took place on 
 a space of a thousand sazhens,* between Borodino and Bagra- 
 tion's earthworks. 
 
 Outside of this space there had occurred, about noon, on 
 one side, a demonstration on the part of Uvarof's Russian 
 cavalry ; on the other, beyond Utitsa, the skirmish between 
 Poniatowski and Tutchkof had taken place ; but these were 
 two distinct engagements and insignificant in comparison with 
 what went on in the middle of the battle-field. 
 
 On this field, between Borodino and the Heches, near the 
 forest, on an open tract visible from both sides, the principal 
 action of the battle was fought in the simplest, most artless 
 manner imaginable. 
 
 * A azbeu is seveu feet ? fiy hundred sazbens make a yerst,
 
 256 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 The action began with a cannonade from both sides, from 
 several hundred cannon. 
 
 Then, when the smoke had settled down on the whole field, 
 forward through it, on the side of the French, at the right, 
 moved the two divisions of Dessaix and Cainpan against the 
 earthworks, and at the left moved the viceroy's regiments 
 against Borodino. 
 
 From the Shevardino redoubt, where Napoleon had taken 
 up his position, the distance to Bagration's fleches was about 
 a verst, while Borodino was upwards of two versts distant in 
 a bee-line, and, consequently, Napoleon could not have seen 
 what was going on there, the . more from the fact that the 
 smoke, mingling with the mist, covered the whole locality. 
 
 The soldiers of Dessaix's division, as they moved against the 
 fleches, were visible only until they began to descend the 
 ravine which separated them from the earthworks. As soon 
 as they descended into the ravine, the smoke of the cannon 
 and musketry from the earthworks was so dense that it wholly 
 curtained off everything on the farther side of the ravine. 
 
 Through the wrack, here and there, gleamed some black 
 object, apparently a body of men, and from time to time the 
 glittering of bayonets. But whether they were moving or 
 standing still, whether they were French or Eussians, it was 
 impossible to distinguish from the Shevardino redoubt. 
 
 The sun came out bright, and shone with its slanting rays- 
 full into Napoleon's face, as he looked from under the shade 
 of his hand toward the fleches. 
 
 The smoke hung like a curtain in front of them, and some- 
 times it seemed as though the smoke were in motion, some- 
 times as though the troops were in motion. Occasionally, 
 above the noise of the musketry, the shouts of men could be 
 heard ; but it was impossible to know what they were doing. 
 
 Napoleon, standing on the knoll, gazed through his field- 
 glass, and in the small circlet of the instrument he could see 
 smoke and men, sometimes his own, sometimes Russians ; but 
 when he came to use his naked eye, he could not find even 
 where he had been looking but the moment before. 
 
 He went down from the redoubt, and began to pace back 
 and forth in front of it. Occasionally he paused and listened 
 to the firing, or strained his sight to see the battle-field. Not 
 only from that lower ground where he was standing, not only 
 from the mound on which some of his generals were left, but 
 likewise from the fleches themselves, where, now together and 
 now alternately, Russians and French were in the fore, crowded
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 257 
 
 with soldiers, dead and wounded, panic-stricken or frenzied, 
 was it impossible to make out what was going on in that place. 
 
 For several hours, amid the incessant firing of musketry 
 and cannon, now the Eussians appeared in the ascendant, and 
 now the French ; now the infantry, and now the cavalry ; 
 they showed themselves, they fell, they fired, they struggled 
 hand to hand ; not knowing what they were doing to each 
 other, they shouted and they retreated. 
 
 Napoleon's aides and his marshals' orderlies kept galloping 
 up from the battle-field with reports as to the progress of 
 affairs ; but all these reports were false for the reason that, 
 in the heat of the engagement, it was impossible to say what 
 was taking place at a given moment, and for the reason that 
 many of the aides did not reach the actual place of conflict, 
 but reported what they had heard from others ; and again for 
 the reason that, while any aide was traversing the two or 
 three versts which separated his starting-point from Napo- 
 leon, circumstances must have changed, and the tidings have 
 become false. 
 
 Thus the viceroy sent an aide post-haste with the tidings 
 that Borodino had been captured and the bridge over the 
 Kalotcha was in the hands of the French. The aide asked 
 Napoleon whether he would command the troops to make a 
 flank movement. 
 
 Napoleon commanded them to be drawn up into line on the 
 other side of the river and to wait, but at the time when 
 Napoleon issued this command nay more, even before the 
 aide had fairly left Borodino the bridge was recaptured and 
 burned by the Russians, in fact, during that very skirmish 
 in which Pierre had participated at the beginning of the 
 battle. 
 
 Another aide, galloping up from the fleches with frightened 
 face, reported to Napoleon that the charge had been repulsed, 
 and that Campan was wounded and Davoust killed ; but, in 
 reality, the fleches had been recaptured by another division 
 of the troops at the very moment that the aide was told that 
 the French were defeated, and Davoust was alive and only 
 slightly contused. 
 
 Drawing his own conclusions from such unavoidably false 
 reports, Napoleon made his dispositions, which either were 
 already fulfilled before he had made them, or else could not 
 be, and never were, fulfilled. 
 
 The marshals and generals, who were at closer touch with 
 the battle-field, but who, nevertheless, just like Napoleon, did 
 VOL. 3. 17.
 
 258 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 not actually take part in the battle itself, and only rarely 
 came actually under fire, did not ask Napoleon, but made 
 their dispositions, and gave their orders as to where and 
 whence to fire, and when to have the cavalry charge and 
 the infantry take ' to the double-quick. 
 
 But even their dispositions, exactly like Napoleon's, were 
 only in small measure and rarely carried out. For the most 
 part, exactly the opposite happened to what they enjoined. 
 Soldiers commanded to advance would fall under a tire of 
 grape and retreat; soldiers commanded to hold their ground, 
 suddenly seeing an unexpected body of Russians coming down 
 upon them, would sometimes rush on to meet them, and the 
 cavalry without orders would gallop off to cut down the fleeing 
 Russians. 
 
 Thus two regiments of cavalry dashed down through the 
 ravine of Semenovskoye, and as soon as they reached the hill- 
 top they faced about and galloped back at breakneck speed. 
 
 In the same way, the infantry soldiers oftentimes went fly- 
 ing about in entirely different directions from what they 
 were ordered to go. 
 
 All dispositions as to where and when cannon were to be 
 unlimbered, when the infantry were to be sent forward, when 
 to fire, when the cavalry were to hammer down the Russian 
 infantry, all these dispositions were made on their own 
 responsibility by the subordinate heads who were close at 
 hand, in the ranks, and they did not stop to consult either 
 with Ney or Davoust or Murat, and certainly not with Napo- 
 leon. They had no fear of their commands not being carried 
 out, or of issuing arbitrary orders, because in a battle the 
 issue at stake is man's most precious possession his own 
 life, and often it seems that his safety lies in retreating, often 
 in advancing at the double-quick, and on the issue of a 
 moment these men must act who are found in the very thick 
 of the battle. 
 
 In reality, all these movements back and forth did not 
 relieve and did not change the positions of the troops. All 
 their collisions and charges, one against the other, produced 
 very little injury, but the injuries, the deaths, and the mutila- 
 tions were brought by the projectiles and shots which were 
 flying in all directions over that space where these men were 
 pelting each other. As soon as these men left that space 
 where the shot and shell were flying, then immediately their 
 nachalniks, stationed in the rear, would bring them into order 
 again, subject them to discipline, and, under the influence of
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 259 
 
 this discipline, lead them back to the domam of the projec- 
 tiles, where again under the influence of the fear of death they 
 would lose their discipline and become subject to whatever 
 disposition was paramount in the throng. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 NAPOLEON'S generals, Davoust,Ney, and Murat, finding 
 themselves near to this domain of fire, and sometimes even 
 riding up into it, more than once led' into this domain of fire 
 enormous and well-ordered masses of troops. But, contrary 
 to what had invariably happened in all their former engage- 
 ments, instead of the expected report that the enemy were 
 fleeing, these well-ordered masses of troops returned thence 
 in disorderly, panic-stricken throngs. 
 
 Then again they would collect them, but each time in 
 diminished numbers. In the afternoon Murat sent his aide 
 to Napoleon for re-enforcements. 
 
 Napoleon was sitting at the foot of the mound, drinking 
 punch, when Murat' s aide-de-camp came galloping up with the 
 report that the Kussians would be defeated if his majesty 
 would send one more division. 
 
 " Re-enforcements ? " exclaimed Napoleon, in grim amaze- 
 ment, as though not realizing the meaning of his words, and 
 looking at the handsome young aide, who wore his dark hair in 
 long curls just as Murat wore his. " Re-enforcements ! " mut- 
 tered Napoleon. "How can they ask for re-enforcements 
 when they already have in their hands half of the army to 
 throw against the weak, unfortified Russian flank ! Tell the 
 King of Naples, 7 ' said Napoleon, sternly, "tell the King of 
 Naples that it is not noon, and that I do not yet see clearly 
 on my chess-board. Go ! " * 
 
 The handsome young aide-de-camp with the long hair, not 
 removing his hand from his hat, drew a heavy sigh and gal- 
 loped back again to the place where they were slaughtering 
 men. 
 
 Napoleon got up, and, calling Caulaincourt and Berthier, 
 began to discuss with them concerning matters that had noth- 
 ing to do with the battle. 
 
 In the midst of this conversation which began to engross 
 Napoleon, Berthier's eyes were attracted to a general with 
 
 * Dites au roi de Naples qu'il n'est pas midi et que je ne vois pas encore 
 clair sur mon echiquicr, Allez '
 
 260 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 his suite who came galloping up to the kurgan on a sweaty 
 horse. 
 
 This was Belliard. Throwing himself from his horse, he 
 approached the emperor with swift strides, and boldly, in a 
 loud voice, began to show forth the imperative necessity of 
 re-enforcements. 
 
 He swore on his honor that the "Russians were beaten if 
 the emperor would only give them one division more. 
 
 Napoleon shrugged his shoulders, and, without making any 
 reply, proceeded with his promenade. Belliard began to talk 
 loud and earnestly with the generals of the suite gathered 
 round him. 
 
 " You are very hot-headed, Belliard," exclaimed Napoleon, 
 again approaching the general. " It is easy to make a mis- 
 take in the thick of battle. Go back and look again and then 
 return to me." 
 
 Hardly had Belliard time to disappear from sight when, 
 from the other side, a new messenger came hastening up from 
 the battle-field. " Well, what is it ? " demanded Napoleon, in 
 the tone of a man annoyed by importunate difficulties. 
 
 " Sire, le prince " began the aide-de-camp. 
 
 " Wants re-enforcements ? " said Napoleon, with a furious 
 gesture, taking the words out of his mouth. The aide-de- 
 camp bowed his head affirmatively, and began to make his 
 report ; but the emperor turned away, took a couple of steps, 
 paused, turned back, and addressed Berthier. 
 
 "We must give them the reserves," said he, slightly throw- 
 ing open his hands. " Which shall we send, think you," he 
 asked, addressing Berthier, " that gosling which I made into 
 an eagle oison que fai fait aigle?" as he was of late in 
 the habit of expressing it. 
 
 " Sire, send Claparede's division," suggested Berthier, who 
 knew by heart every division, regiment, and battalion. 
 
 Napoleon nodded approval. 
 
 The aide-de-camp dashed off to Claparede's division, and, 
 within a few minutes, the Young Guard, who were drawn up 
 back of the kurgan, were on the way. Napoleon looked on in 
 silence at this movement. 
 
 "No," he cried, suddenly turning to Berthier, "I cannot 
 send Claparede. Send Friant's division," said he. 
 
 Although there was no choice whereby it was better to send 
 Friant's division rather than Claparede's, and the delay of 
 recalling Claparede and sending Friant was even on its face 
 disadvantageous, still this order was carried out to the letter.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 261 
 
 Napoleon did not see that in thus treating his forces he was 
 playing the part of a doctor who by his very remedies hinders 
 recovery a part which he thoroughly appreciated and criti- 
 cised. 
 
 Friant's division, like the others, also vanished in the smoke 
 that hung over the battle-field. From all sides aides kept gal- 
 loping up with reports, and all, as though from previous agree- 
 ment, had one and the same story to tell. All demanded 
 re-enforcements, all declared that the Russians were holding 
 desperately to their positions and that they were returning an 
 infernal fire un feu d'enfer under which the French troops 
 were fairly melting away. 
 
 Napoleon, in deep thought, sat down on a camp-chair. 
 
 M. de Beausset, who was so fond of travelling, and had been 
 fasting since early morning, came up to the emperor, and per- 
 mitted himself the boldness of respectfully proposing to his 
 majesty to eat some breakfast. 
 
 "I hope that I am not premature in congratulating your 
 majesty on a victory," said he. 
 
 Napoleon silently shook his head. M. de Beausset, taking 
 it for granted that this negation was a disclaimer of victory 
 and did not refer to breakfast, permitted himself in a play- 
 fully respectful manner to remark that there was no reason on 
 earth why they should not have some breakfast when they 
 could have some. 
 
 " Allez vous " suddenly cried Napoleon gruffly, and turned 
 his back on him. A beatific smile of pity, regret, and enthu- 
 siasm irradiated M. Beausset's face, and with a swaggering 
 step he rejoined the other generals. 
 
 Napoleon was under the sway of a gloomy feeling like that 
 experienced by a universally fortunate gamester, who has 
 senselessly staked his money because he was always sure of 
 winning, and suddenly, just at the time when he has calcu- 
 lated all the chances of the game, is brought to the knowledge 
 that the more he puzzles over its course, the more surely he is 
 losing. 
 
 The troops were the same, the generals the same, the prep- 
 arations were the same, the same dispositions, the same pro- 
 clamation courte et energique; he himself was the same, he 
 knew it; he knew that he was vastly better in experience and 
 skill than he had ever been before ; even the enemy were the 
 same as at Austerlitz and Friedland, but the terrible, crushing 
 blow of the hand fell powerless as though magic interfered. 
 
 All those former measures which had been invariably
 
 262 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 crowned with success the concentration of all the batteries 
 on one spot, and the attack of the reserves for crushing the 
 lines, and the charge of the cavalry ses homines defer, all 
 these measures were employed, and not only there was no 
 victory, but from all sides the same stories about generals 
 killed and wounded, about the necessity of re-enforcements, 
 about the impossibility of defeating the Russians, and about 
 the demoralization of the troops. 
 
 Hitherto, after two or three moves, two or three hasty or- 
 ders, marshals and aides-de-camp would come galloping up 
 with congratulations and joyous faces, announcing whole corps 
 of prisoners as trophies, des faisceaux de drapeaux et d'aigles 
 ennemis sheaves of standards and eagles taken from the foe 
 and cannon, and provision trains; and Murat would only 
 ask for permission to let the cavalry set forth to gather in the 
 booty. This was the case at Lodi, Marengo, Arcole, Jena, 
 Austerlitz, Wagram, and so on, and so on. But now, some- 
 thing strange had happened to his warriors ! 
 
 Notwithstanding the report that the Heches had been cap- 
 tured, Napoleon saw that this success was different, entirely 
 different from what had been the case in all his other battles. 
 He saw that the feeling which he experienced was also expe- 
 rienced by all the men around him, who were familiar with 
 military affairs. All faces were gloomy, all eyes were averted. 
 Beausset alone failed to understand the significance of what 
 was happening. 
 
 Napoleon, after his long experience of war, well knew what 
 it meant that, after eight hours' steady fighting, after the ex- 
 penditure of such efforts, victory had not crowned the attack- 
 ing columns. He knew that it was almost a defeat, and that 
 the slightest mischance might now, at this critical point on 
 which the battle was balancing, ruin him and his army. 
 
 When he passed in review all this strange Russian cam- 
 paign, in which not one victory had been won, in which, for 
 two months, not a standard, not a cannon, not a squad of men 
 had been captured ; when he looked at the openly dejected 
 faces of those around him, and heard the reports that the 
 Russians still stood their ground, a terrible feeling, like that 
 experienced in nightmares, seized him, and all the unfor- 
 tunate circumstances that might ruin him came into his mind. 
 
 The Russians might fall upon his left wing, might break 
 through his centre, a wanton projectile might even kill him- 
 self ! All this was possible. In his previous battles, he con- 
 sidered only the chances of success j now, an infinite number
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 263 
 
 of possible mischances rose up before him, and he expected 
 them all. Yes, this was just as in a dream, when a man imagines 
 that a murderer is attacking him, and the man, in his dream, 
 brandishes his arms, and strikes his assailant with that tre- 
 mendous force which he knows must annihilate him, and then 
 feels that his arm falls weak and limp as a rag, and the hor- 
 ror of inevitable destruction, because he is helpless, seizes 
 him. 
 
 The report that the Russians were really charging the left 
 flank of the French army awoke in Napoleon this horror. 
 He sat in silence at the foot of the mound, on his camp-chair, 
 with his head bent, and his elbows on his knees. Berthier 
 came to him, and proposed to him to ride around the line, so 
 as to assure himself how affairs really stood. 
 
 " What ? What did you say ? " asked Napoleon. " Yes, 
 have my horse brought." 
 
 He mounted, and rode toward Semenovskoye. In the 
 slowly dissipating gunpowder smoke that spread all over this 
 space where Napoleon was riding, in the pools of blood lay 
 horses and men, singly and in heaps. Such a horror, such a 
 collection of slaughtered men, neither Napoleon nor any of his 
 generals had ever seen on so small a space. The thunder of 
 the cannon, which had not ceased rolling for ten hours, and 
 had become a torment to the ear, .gave a peculiar significance 
 to this spectacle (like music to tableaux-vivants). 
 
 Napoleon rode to the height over Semenovskoye, and 
 through the smoke he could see ranks of men in uniforms 
 whose colors were unfamiliar to his eyes. They were the 
 Russians. 
 
 The Russians, in dense rows, were posted behind Semenov- 
 skoye and the kurgan, and their cannon, all along the line, 
 were incessantly roaring, and filling the air with smoke. This 
 was not a battle. It was wholesale butchery, incapable of 
 bringing any advantage to either the Russians or the French. 
 
 Napoleon reined in his horse, and again fell into that 
 brown study from which Berthier had aroused him. He 
 could not put an end to this affair which was going on in 
 front of him and around him, and which seemed to have been 
 regulated by him, and to have been contingent upon his fiat ; 
 and this affair, in consequence of this his first failure, for the 
 first time, made him realize all its uselessness and horror. 
 
 One of the generals who came galloping up to Napoleon 
 permitted himself to propose that the Old Guard should be 
 sent into the battle. Ney and Berthier, who were standing
 
 264 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 near Napoleon, exchanged glances, and smiled scornfully at 
 this general's senseless proposal. 
 
 Napoleon let his head sink on his breast, and was long 
 silent. 
 
 11 A liuit cent lieux de France, je ne ferai pas demolir ma 
 garde ! We are eight hundred leagues from France, and I 
 will not have my guard destroyed ! " said he ; and, turning 
 his horse, he rode back to Shevardino. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 KUTUZOF, with his gray head sunk down, and his heavy 
 body sprawled out on a rug-covered bench, was sitting in the 
 same place where Pierre had seen him that morning. He 
 gave no definite orders, but merely approved or disapproved 
 of what was reported to him. 
 
 " Yes, yes, do so," he would answer to the various sugges- 
 tions. " Yes, yes, go, my dear, go and see ! " he would say 
 to this one or that of those near him ; or, " No, it is not 
 necessary, we would better wait," he would say. He would 
 listen to the reports brought to him, give his commands 
 when this was considered necessary by his subordinates ; but 
 even while he was listening to what was said to him, he was 
 apparently not interested in the sense of the words so much 
 as in the expression of the faces, in the tone of voice of those 
 who brought the reports. Long experience in war had taught 
 him, and his years of discretion had made him realize, that it 
 was impossible for one man to direct a hundred thousand men 
 engaged in a death struggle, and he knew that the issue of a 
 battle is determined not by the plans of the commander-in- 
 chief, not by the place where the troops are stationed, not by 
 the number of the cannon or the multitude of the slain, but 
 by that imponderable force called the spirit of the army ; 
 and he made use of this force, and directed it, so far as it was 
 in his power. 
 
 The general expression of Kutuzof's face was one of con- 
 centrated attention and energy, scarcely able to overcome the 
 weariness of his old and feeble frame. 
 
 At eleven o'clock in the morning, he was informed that the 
 fleches captured by the French had been retaken, but that 
 Prince Bag-ration was wounded. Kutuzof groaned, and shook 
 his head. 
 
 " Go to Prince Piotr Ivanovitch, and learn the particulars,
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 265 
 
 what and how," said he to one of his adjutants ; and immedi- 
 ately after he turned to the Prince of Wiirttemberg, who was 
 standing just back of him. 
 
 " Would not your highness take command of the first 
 division ? " 
 
 Soon after the prince's departure, so soon, in fact, that he 
 could not have reached Semenovskoye, the prince's aide came 
 back, and informed his serene highness that the prince wished 
 more troops. 
 
 ' Kutuzof frowned, and sent word to Dokhturof to take com- 
 mand of the first division, and begged the prince to return to 
 him, as, so he said, he could not do without him at this 
 important crisis. 
 
 When the report was brought that Murat was taken pris- 
 oner, and the staff hastened to congratulate Kutuzof, he 
 smiled. 
 
 " Wait, gentlemen," said he. " There is nothing extraordi- 
 nary in the victory being won, and Murat being a prisoner. 
 But it is best to postpone our elation." Nevertheless, he sent 
 one of his adjutants to ride along the lines, and announce this 
 news to the troops. 
 
 When Shcherbinin came spurring up from the left flank to 
 report that the French had captured the fleches and Seme- 
 novskoye, Kutuzof, judging from the sounds on the battle-field 
 and by Shcherbiniii's face that he was bringing bad news, got 
 up, as though to stretch his legs, and, taking Shcherbinin by 
 the arm, he led him to one side. 
 
 "Go, my dear,"* said he to Yermolof, "go and see if it is 
 impossible to do anything." 
 
 Kutuzof was at Gorki, the centre of the position of the 
 Kussian troops. The assaults on our left flank, directed by 
 Napoleon, had been several times repulsed. At the centre the 
 French had not pushed beyond Borodino. On the right 
 Uvarof's cavalry had put the French to flight. 
 
 At three o'clock the French attack began to slacken in vio- 
 lence. On the faces of all who came from the battle-field and 
 of all who stood around him, Kutuzof read an expression of 
 the most intense excitement. Kutuzof was satisfied with the 
 success of the day, which surpassed his expectations. But the 
 old man's physical strength began to desert him. Several 
 times his head sank forward, as though out of his control, and 
 he dozed. Something to eat was brought to him. 
 
 Fltlgel-adjutant Woltzogen, the one who ; as he rode past
 
 266 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 Prince Andrei, had declared that the war must spread into the 
 country im Raum verlegen, and whom Bagration so de- 
 tested, came riding up while Kutuzof was eating his dinner. 
 Woltzogeii came from Barclay with a report as to the course 
 of affairs on the left wing. The prudent Barclay de Tolly 
 seeing the throngs of wounded hastening to the rear, and the 
 ragged ranks of the army, and taking all circumstances into 
 consideration, decided that the battle was lost, and sent his 
 favorite with this news to the general-in-chief. 
 
 Kutuzof laboriously mumbled a piece of roasted chicken and 
 gazed at Woltzogen with squinting, jocose eyes. 
 
 Woltzogeii, stretching his legs negligently, with a half-scorn- 
 ful smile on his lips, came to Kutuzof, barely lifting his hand 
 to his visor. He behaved to his serene highness with a cer- 
 tain affectation of indifference, which was intended to show 
 that he, as a highly cultured military man, permitted the 
 Russians to make an idol of this good-for-nothing old man, 
 but that he knew with whom he was dealing. " Der alte Herr " 
 " the old gentleman," as Kutuzof was called by the Ger- 
 mans in his circle " macht sich ganz bequem is taking 
 things very easy," said Woltzogen to himself, and, casting a 
 stern glance at the platter placed in front of Kutuzof, he pro- 
 ceeded to report to the old gentleman the position of affairs 
 on the left flank, as Barclay had told him to do, and as he 
 himself had seen and understood them. 
 
 "All the points of our position are in the enemy's hands, 
 and we cannot regain them, because we have no troops ; they 
 are in full retreat, and there is no possibility of stopping them," 
 was his report. 
 
 Kutuzof, ceasing to chew, stared at Woltzogen in amaze- 
 ment, as though not comprehending what was said to him. 
 
 Woltzogen, observing the alter Herr's excitement, said, with 
 a smile, "I did not feel that it was right to conceal from 
 your serene highness what I have been witnessing. The 
 troops are wholly demoralized " 
 
 " You have seen it ? You have seen it ? " screamed Ku- 
 tuzof, scowling, and leaping to his feet, and swiftly approach- 
 ing Woltzogen. " How how dare you ? " and he made a 
 threatening gesture with his palsied hands, and, choking, he 
 cried : " How dare you, dear sir, say this to me ? You know 
 nothing about it. Tell General Barclay from me that his ob- 
 servations are false, and that the actual course of the battle is 
 better known to me, the commander-in-chief, than it is to 
 him ! " Woltzogen was about to make some remark, but 
 Kutuzof cut him short ; *
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 267 
 
 " The enemy are beaten on the left and crushed on the right. 
 If you saw things wrong, my dear sir, still you should not 
 permit yourself to say what you know nothing about. Be 
 good enough to go to General Barclay and tell him that it is 
 my absolute intention to attack the enemy to-morrow," said 
 Kutuzof sternly. 
 
 All was silent, and all that could be heard was the heavy 
 breathing of the excited old general. 
 
 " They are beaten all along the line, thank God and the 
 gallantry of the Kussian army for that ! The enemy are 
 crushed, and to-morrow we will drive them from the sacred 
 soil of Russia," said Kutuzof, crossing himself, and suddenly 
 the tears sprang to his eyes and he sobbed. 
 
 Woltzogen, shrugging his shoulders and pursing his lips, 
 silently went to one side, expressing his amazement at the old 
 gentleman's conceited stubbornness ilber diese Eingenom- 
 menheit des alt en Herrn. 
 
 " Ah, here comes my hero," exclaimed Kutuzof, to a stal- 
 wart, handsome, dark-haired general, who at this moment ap- 
 proached the kurgan. 
 
 This was Kayevsky, who had been- all that day at the criti- 
 cal point of the field of Borodino. 
 
 Rayevsky reported that the troops were unmoved in their 
 positions, and that the French did not dare to attack them any 
 more. 
 
 On hearing this, Kutuzof said in French, " Then you do 
 not think, as some others do, that we are forced to withdraw ? " 
 
 " On the contrary, your highness, in drawn battles it is 
 always the stubbornest who can be called victorious," replied 
 Rayevsky, " and my opinion " * 
 
 "Kai'sarof !" cried Kutuzof, summoning his adjutant. "Sit 
 down and write an order for to-morrow. And you " he said, 
 addressing another, " hasten down the lines and have them 
 understand that we attack to-morrow." 
 
 While Kutuzof was talking with Rayevsky and dictating 
 his order of the day, Woltzogen came back from Barclay and 
 announced that General Barclay de Tolly would like a written 
 confirmation of the order which the field-marshal had delivered 
 to him. 
 
 Kutuzof, not looking at Woltzogen, commanded this order 
 to be written, winch the former commander-in-chief desired to 
 
 * " Vous ne per on z pas done comme les autres que nous sommes obliges de 
 nous retirer? " Au contraire, votre altesse, dans les affaires indtcises, c'est 
 toujours le plus opiniatre qui reste victorieux et mon opinion "
 
 268 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 have since it completely relieved him of personal responsi- 
 bility. 
 
 And by that intangible, mysterious connection which pre- 
 serves throughout a whole army one and the same disposition, 
 the so-called esprit du corps, and constitutes the chief sinew of 
 an army, Kutuzof's words and his order for renewing the 
 battle on the following day were known simultaneously from 
 one end of the force to the other. 
 
 The exact words or the absolute form of the order were not 
 indeed carried to the utmost limits of this organization ; in 
 the stories which were repeated in the widely separated ends 
 of the lines there was very likely nothing like what Kutuzof 
 really said ; but the gist of his words was conveyed every- 
 where, for the reason that what Kutuzof said sprang not from 
 logical reasoning, but was the genuine outcome of the senti- 
 ment that was in the heart of the commander-in-chief, find- 
 ing a response in the heart of every Russian, 
 
 And when they knew that on the next day they were going 
 to attack the enemy, and heard from the upper circles of the 
 army the confirmation of what they wished to believe, these 
 men, tortured by doubt, were comforted and encouraged. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 PRINCE ANDREI'S regiment was among the reserves, which 
 had been stationed until two o'clock behind Semenovskoye, 
 doing nothing under the severe fire of the artillery. At two 
 o'clock, the regiment, which had already lost more than two 
 hundred men, was moved forward upon the trampled field of 
 oats, on that space between Semenovskoye and the " Kurgan " 
 battery, whereon thousands of men were killed that day, and 
 toward which was now concentrated a tremendous fire, from 
 several hundreds of the enemy's guns. 
 
 Without stirring from that spot, and not themselves reply- 
 ing with a single shot, the regiment lost here two-thirds of its 
 effective. In front and especially at the right-hand side, 
 amid the perpetual smoke, the cannons were booming,* and 
 from that mysterious domain of smoke which shrouded all 
 the space in front constantly flew the hissing and swiftly 
 screaming projectiles, and the more deliberately sputtering 
 shells. Sometimes, as though to give a respite, a quarter-hour 
 would pass during which all the shot and shells would fly 
 * Bubukhali.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 269 
 
 overhead, but then, again, several men would be struck down 
 in the course of a moment, and they were constantly engaged 
 in dragging the dead to one side, and carrying the wounded 
 to the rear. 
 
 With each new casualty the chances of life were diminished 
 for those who were as yet unscathed. The regiment was 
 posted in battalion columns at intervals of three hundred paces, 
 but, nevertheless, all the men were swayed by one and the 
 same impulse. All the men of the regiment were without 
 exception silent and melancholy. Once in a while a few 
 words were spoken in the ranks, but this conversation was 
 always abruptly cut short each time when the thud of the 
 falling missile was heard, and the cry of "Stretchers ! " 
 
 The larger part of the time, the men of the regiment, by 
 their chief's orders, lay low on the ground. One man, having 
 taken off his shako, was assiduously untying and again tying 
 up the strings ; another, with dry clay fashioned into a ball 
 in his palms, was polishing up his bayonet ; another had taken 
 off the strap and was buckling his bandolier ; still another was 
 carefully untwisting his leg-wrappers and tying them on 
 again, and changing his shoes. 
 
 Some dug shelters out of the ploughed land,- or plaited 
 wattles out of the stubble straw. All seemed entirely absorbed 
 in their occupations. When any of them were killed or 
 wounded, when the litters were brought into requisition, when 
 our men were forced back, when the smoke opened a little 
 and disclosed great masses of the enemy, no one paid any 
 attention to these circumstances. 
 
 When, though, the artillery or the cavalry were moved for- 
 ward, or our infantry could be seen executing some manoeuvre, 
 approving remarks were heard on all sides. But the most 
 attention was excited by incidents entirely extraneous, which 
 had absolutely no relation to the battle. It would seem as 
 though the- attention of these morally exhausted men were 
 relieved by the contemplation of the events of every-day life. 
 
 A battery of artillery passed in front of the regiment. The 
 off horse attached to one of the caissons got entangled in the 
 traces. 
 
 " Hey ! look out for your off horse ! " " Take care ! He'll be 
 clown ! " " Ekh ! Haven't they any eyes ? " Such were the 
 remarks shouted all along the line. 
 
 Another time, general attention- was attracted by a small 
 cinnamon-colored puppy which, with its tail stiffly erect, came 
 from God knows where, and went flying at a desperate pace 
 in front of the ranks, and, frightened by the sudden plunge of
 
 270 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 i 
 
 a round shot which fell near it, set up a yelp, and sprang to 
 one side with its tail between its legs. A roar .of laughter 
 and shouts ran along the line. 
 
 But diversions of this sort lasted only for a few minutes, 
 while the men had been standing there for more than eight 
 hours, without food, and inactive, under that ceaseless horror of 
 death, and their pallid and anxious faces grew ever more pallid 
 and more anxious. 
 
 Prince Andrei, like all the other men in his regiment anx- 
 ious and pallid, paced back and forth along the meadow, next 
 the oat-field, from one end to the other, with his arms behind 
 his back, and with bent head. There was nothing for him to 
 do or to order. Everything went like clockwork. The dead 
 were dragged to one side, away from the front ; the wounded 
 were carried to the rear ; the ranks were closed up. If the 
 soldiers stood aside, they instantly hastened back to their 
 places again. 
 
 At first Prince Andrei, considering it incumbent upon him 
 to encourage his men and to set them an example of gallantry, 
 kept walking up and down along the ranks ; but afterwards 
 he became convinced that they had nothing to learn from 
 him. The whole energies of his soul, like those of every one 
 of the soldiers, were unconsciously bent on avoiding the hor- 
 rors of their situation. 
 
 He marched along the meadow, dragging his feet, trampling 
 down the grass and contemplating the dust that covered his 
 boots ; then again with long strides he would try to step from 
 ridge to ridge left by the mowers' scythes along the meadow ; 
 or, counting his steps, he would calculate how many times he 
 must go from one boundary to the other in order to make a 
 verst. He would pluck up the wormwood growing on the 
 edge of the field, and rub the flowers between his palms, and 
 sniff the powerful, penetrating bitter of their odor. 
 
 Nothing remained of the fabric of thought which he had so 
 painfully elaborated the evening before. He thought of noth- 
 ing at all. He listened with weary ears to that perpetual repe- 
 tition of sounds, distinguishing the whistling of the missiles 
 above the roar of the musketry. He gazed .at the indifferent 
 faces of the men in the first battalion, and waited. 
 
 "Here she comes! That's one for us," he would say to 
 himself as he caught the approaching screech of something 
 from that hidden realm of smoke. " One, a second ! There's 
 another ! It struck ! " 
 
 He paused, and looked along the ranks. " No, it went over. 
 Ah ! but that one struck ! "
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 271 
 
 And once more he would take up his promenade, trying to 
 measure long steps, so as to reach the boundary in sixteen 
 strides. 
 
 A screech, and a thud ! Within half a dozen steps from him 
 a projectile flung up the dry soil and buried itself. An involun- 
 tary chill ran down his back. Once more he looked along the 
 ranks : evidently many had been struck down ; a great crowd 
 had come together in the second battalion. 
 
 " Mr. Adjutant," he cried, " tell those men not to stand so 
 close together." 
 
 The adjutant, having fulfilled the command, returned to 
 Prince Andrei. From the other side the battalion commander 
 rode up on horseback. 
 
 " Look out ! " cried a soldier in a terrified voice ; and like a 
 bird rustling in its swift flight and settling earthward, a shell 
 came plunging down, not noisily, within two paces of Prince 
 Andrei, and near the battalion commander's horse. 
 
 The horse, not pausing to consider whether it were well or 
 ill to manifest fear, snorted, shied, and, almost unseating the 
 major, darted off. The horse's panic was shared by the men. 
 "Lie down!" cried the adjutant, throwing himself on the 
 ground. 
 
 Prince Andrei stood undecided. The shell, with its fuse 
 smoking, was spinning like a top between him and the adju- 
 tant, on the very edge between the ploughed land and the 
 meadow, near the clump of wormwood. 
 
 " Can this be death ? " wondered Prince Andrei, casting a 
 fleeting glance full of a newly born envy at the grass, the 
 wormwood, and the thread of smoke that escaped from the 
 whirling black ball. " I cannot, I will not die ; I love life, I 
 love this grass, the earth, the air " 
 
 All this flashed through his mind, and at the same time he 
 remembered that they were looking at him. " For shame, Mr. 
 Officer ! " he started to say to the adjutant. " Any " 
 
 He did not finish. There came simultaneously a crash, a 
 whizzing of fragments, as of broken glass, a powerful odor 
 of gunpowder smoke, and Prince Andrei was struck in the 
 side, and, throwing his arms up, he fell on his face. 
 
 Several officers hastened to him. From the right side of 
 his abdomen a great gush of blood stained the grass. 
 
 The infantry who acted as bearers came up with their 
 stretchers, and stood behind the officers. Prince Andrei lay 
 with, his face buried in the grass, gasping painfully. 
 
 " Now, then, why loiter ? come on ! "
 
 272 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 The muzhiks came close and lifted him by the shoulders 
 and legs ; but he groaned piteously, and the men, exchanging 
 glances, laid him down again. 
 
 " Bear a hand there ! Up with him ! it's all the same ! " 
 cried some one's voice. Once more they took him by the 
 shoulders, and laid him on the stretcher. 
 
 " Ah ! my God ! my God ! What ? " " In the belly ? 
 That finishes him ! " " Akh ! Bozhe moi ! " exclaimed various 
 officers. 
 
 "Na ! a fragment whizzed past my ear," said the adjutant. 
 
 The muzhiks, lifting the stretcher to their shoulders, has- 
 tily directed their steps along the path that they had already 
 worn toward the " bandaging-point." 
 
 " Fall into step ! Oh ! you men ! " cried an officer, halting 
 the muzhiks, who were walking out of step and jolting the 
 stretcher. " In step there, can't you, Khveodor, now, then, 
 Khveodor ! exclaimed the front muzhik. 
 
 " Now that's the' way ! " cheerfully replied the rear one, 
 falling into step. 
 
 " Your illustriousness prince ! " said Timokhin in a trem- 
 bling voice, as he came up and looked at the stretcher. 
 
 Prince Andrei opened his eyes, and looked out from the 
 stretcher in which his head was sunken, and when he saw who 
 spoke, he again shut them. 
 
 The militia-men carried Prince Andrei to the forest, where 
 the wagons were sheltered, and where the field lazaret had 
 been established. This field lazaret, or bandaging-place, con- 
 sisted of three tents with upturned flaps, pitched on the edge 
 of the birch grove. Within the grove the wagons and horses 
 were corralled. The horses were munching oats in haversacks, 
 and the sparrows were pouncing down and carrying off the 
 scattered grains ; crows, scenting blood, and impatiently caw- 
 ing, were flying about over the tree-tops. 
 
 Around the tents, occupying more than five acres * of ground, 
 lay, and sat, and stood, blood-stained men in various attire. 
 
 Around the wounded stood a throng of stretcher-bearers, 
 soldiers, with sad but interested faces, whom the officers, 
 attempting to carry out orders, found it impossible to keep 
 away. Not heeding the officers, the soldiers stood leaning on 
 the stretchers and gazed steadily, as though trying to grasp 
 the meaning of the terrible spectacle before their eyes. 
 
 From the tents could be heard loud, fierce sobs, then pitiful 
 * Two desyatins; a desyatin is 2.7 acres.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 273 
 
 groans. Occasionally, assistants would come hurrying out 
 after water, and signify the next ones who should be attended 
 to. The wounded by the tents waited their turn, hoarsely 
 crying, groaning, weeping, screaming, cursing, clamoring for 
 vodka. Some were delirious. 
 
 Prince Andrei, as regimental commander, was carried through 
 this throng of unbandaged sufferers, close to one of the tents, 
 and there his bearers waited for further orders. He opened 
 his eyes, and it was some time before he could comprehend 
 what was going on around him. The meadow, the wormwood, 
 the ploughed field, the black whirling ball, and that passionate 
 throb of love for life occurred to his recollection. 
 
 A couple of paces distant from him, talking loudly and 
 attracting general attention, stood a tall, handsome, non-com- 
 missioned officer, with a bandaged head, and leaning against a 
 dead tree. He had been wounded in the head and leg with 
 bullets. Around him, attracted by his talk, were gathered a 
 throng of wounded and of stretcher-bearers. 
 
 " We gave it to him so hot that they dropped everything ; 
 they even left the king," cried the soldier, snapping his fiery 
 black eyes and glancing around. " If only the reserves had 
 been sent up just at that time, I tell you, brother, there would 
 not have been left a show of him, because I am sure " 
 
 Prince Andrei, like all the circle gathered around the 
 speaker, gazed at him with gleaming eyes, and felt a sense of 
 consolation. " But what difference does it make to me now ? " 
 he asked himself. " What is going to happen, and what does it 
 mean ? Why do I have such regret in leaving life ? What 
 was there in this life, which I have not understood, and which 
 I still fail to understand ? " 
 
 CHAPTEK XXXVII. 
 
 ONE of the surgeons, with blood-soaked apron, and with his 
 small hands covered with gore, holding a cigar between thumb 
 and little finger, so as not to besmear it, came out of the tent.. 
 This doctor lifted his head and proceeded to look on all sides, 
 but beyond the wounded. He was evidently anxious to get a 
 little rest. Having for some time looked toward the right and 
 then toward the left, he drew a long sigh and dropped his eyes. 
 
 " In a moment now," said he, in reply to his feldscher, who 
 called his attention to Prince Andrei, and he gave orders for 
 him to be carried into the tent. 
 VOL. 3. 18.
 
 274 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 The throng of wounded who had been waiting was disposed 
 to grumble. " In this world it seems only ' gentlemen ' are 
 permitted to live ! " exclaimed one. 
 
 Prince Andrei was taken in and deposited on a table which 
 had only just been vacated. The feldscher was that instant 
 engaged in rinsing something from it. Prince Andrei could 
 not distinctly make out what there was in the tent. The piti- 
 ful groans on all sides, the excruciating agony in his ribs, his 
 belly, and his back, distracted him. All that he saw around 
 him was confused for him, in one general impression of naked, 
 blood-stained human flesh, rilling all the lower part of the 
 tent, just as several weeks previously, on that hot August day, 
 the same flesh had filled the filthy pond along the Smolensk 
 highway. Yes, this was the same flesh, the same chair a canon, 
 which even then the sight of, as though prophetic of what he 
 now experienced, had filled him with horror. 
 
 There were three tables in this tent. Two were occupied. 
 Prince Andrei was laid upon the third. He was left to him- 
 self for some little time, and he could not help seeing what 
 was doing at the other two tables. On the one nearest lay a 
 Tatar, a Cossack to judge by his uniform, which was thrown 
 down beside him. Four soldiers held him down. A surgeon 
 in spectacles was using his knife on his cinnamon-colored, 
 muscular back. 
 
 " Ukh ! Ukh ! Ukh ! " - the Tatar grunted like a pig, and, 
 suddenly turning up his swarthy face with its wide cheek- 
 bones and squat nose, and unsheathing his white teeth, he 
 began to tug and to struggle, and set up a long, shrill, pene- 
 trating screech. 
 
 On the other table, around which were gathered a number 
 of people, a large, stout man lay on his back, with his head 
 thrown back. His streaming hair, its color, and the shape of 
 the head seemed strangely familiar to Prince Andrei. 
 
 Several of the assistants were leaning on this man's chest, 
 and holding him down. His large, stout, white leg was sub- 
 ject to an incessant and rapid trembling, as though it had the 
 ague. This man was convulsively sobbing and choking. Two 
 surgeons one was pale and trembling were silently doing 
 something to this man's other handsome leg. 
 
 Having finished with the Tatar, over whom they threw his 
 cloak, the spectacled surgeon, wiping his hands, came to Prince 
 Andrei. He looked into Prince Andrei's face, and hastily 
 turned away. 
 
 " Undress him. What are you dawdling for ? " he cried 
 severely to his feldschers.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 275 
 
 Prince Andrei's very first and most distant childhood 
 occurred to him, as the feldscher, with hasty hands, began to 
 unbutton his clothes and remove them. The surgeon bent 
 down low over the wound, probed it, and drew a heavy sigh. 
 Then he made a sign to some one. 
 
 The exquisite agony which Prince Andrei felt within his 
 abdomen caused him to lose- consciousness. 
 
 When he came to himself, the broken splinters of ribs were 
 removed, the torn clots of flesh cut away, and the wound was 
 dressed. 
 
 They were dashing water into his face. As soon as Prince 
 Andrei opened his eyes, the surgeon bent silently down to 
 him, kissed him in the lips, and hastened away. 
 
 After the suffering which he had endured, Prince Andrei 
 was conscious of a well-being such as he had not experienced 
 for a long time. 
 
 All the best and happiest moments of his life, especially 
 his earliest childhood, when they used to undress him and put 
 him to bed, when his old nyanya used to lull him to sleep 
 with her songs, when, as he buried his head in the pillows, he 
 had felt himself happy in the mere consciousness of being 
 alive : all recurred to his imagination, no longer as something 
 long past, but as actuality. 
 
 Around that wounded man, whose features seemed familiar 
 to Prince Andrei, the doctors were still busy, lifting him and 
 trying to calm him. 
 
 " Show it to me. . . . Ooooo ! o ! Ooooo ! " he groaned, his 
 voice broken by frightened sobs, subdued by suffering. 
 
 Prince Andrei, hearing these groans, felt like weeping him- 
 self : either because he was dying without fame, or because he 
 regretted being torn from life, or because of these recollec- 
 tions of a childhood never to return, or because he sympa- 
 thized in the sufferings of others, and this man was groaning 
 so piteously before him ; but, at any rate, he felt like weep- 
 ing good, childlike, almost happy tears. 
 
 The wounded man was shown the amputated leg, still in its 
 boot, which was full of blood. 
 
 " ! Ooooo ! " and he sobbed like a woman. The surgeon, 
 who had been standing in front of the patient, and prevented 
 his face from being seen, stepped to one side. 
 
 " My God ! what does this mean ? Why is he here ? " 
 Prince Andrei wondered. 
 
 In this wretched, sobbing, exhausted man, whose leg had 
 only just been taken off, he recognized Auatol Kuragin, They
 
 276 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 lifted Anatol's head, and gave him water in a glass ; but his 
 trembling, swollen lips could not close over the edge of the 
 glass. Anatol was still sobbing bitterly. 
 
 " Yes, it is he ! yes, this man who has been somehow so 
 closely, so painfully, connected with my life ! " said Prince 
 Andrei to himself, not as yet realizing clearly all the circum- 
 stances. "What has been the link that connects this man 
 with my childhood, with my life?" he asked himself, and 
 could not find the answer to his question. And suddenly a 
 new and unexpected remembrance from that world of the 
 childlike, pure, and lovely past arose before Prince Andrei. 
 He recalled Natasha just as he had seen her for the first time 
 at the ball, in 1810, with her slender neck and arms, with her 
 timid, happy face so easily wakened to enthusiasms, and his 
 love and tenderness for her arose more keenly and power- 
 fully in his soul than ever before. He remembered now the 
 bond which existed between him and this man, who, through 
 the tears that suffused his swollen eyes, was gazing at him 
 with such an expression of agony. Prince Andrei remembered 
 everything, and a solemn pity and love for this man welled up 
 in his happy heart. 
 
 Prince Andrei could no longer restrain himself, and he wept 
 tears of compassionate love and tenderness over other men 
 and over himself, over their errors and his own. 
 
 " Sympathy, love for one's brothers, for those who love us, 
 love for those who hate us, love for our enemies, yes, the love 
 which God preached on earth, which the Princess Mariya 
 taught me, and which I have not understood, that is what 
 made me feel regret for life ; that is what would have remained 
 for me if my life had been spared. But now it is too late. 
 I know it." 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 THE terrible spectacle of the battle-field, covered with 
 corpses and wounded men, together with the heaviness of his 
 head and the news that a score of famous generals had been 
 killed and wounded, and together with the consciousness that 
 his formerly powerful hands were powerless, had produced an 
 unusual impression upon Napoleon, who, as a general thing, 
 was fond of contemplating the killed and wounded, this beicg 
 (as he thought) a proof of his mental force. 
 
 On this day the horrible spectacle of the battle-field over-
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 277 
 
 came this moral force whereby he had always manifested his 
 worth and greatness. He hastened away from the battle-field 
 and returned to the hill of Shevardino. Sallow, bloated, 
 apathetic, with blood-shot eyes, red nose, and hoarse voice, he 
 sat on his camp-chair, involuntarily listening- to the sounds of 
 the firing and not raising his eyes. 
 
 With sickening distress he awaited the end. of this action, 
 of which he regarded himself the principal participant, but 
 which he was powerless to stay. A personal feeling of 
 humanity for a brief moment became paramount over that 
 artificial phantom of life which he had followed so long. He 
 bore the weight of all the suffering and death which he had 
 witnessed on the battle-field. The dull feeling in his head 
 and chest reminded him of the possibility that he also might 
 have to suffer and to die. At that instant he desired neither 
 Moscow nor victory nor glory (and yet what glory he still 
 required !). The one thing that he now desired was rest, 
 repose, and liberty. 
 
 But as soon as he reached the Semenovskoye heights, an 
 artillery general proposed to him to station a few batteries 
 there for the sake of increasing the fire on the Russian troops 
 massing in front of Kniazkovo. Napoleon consented, and 
 ordered a report to be made to him as ta the effect produced 
 by these batteries. 
 
 An aide-de-camp came to say that, in accordance with the 
 emperor's orders, two hundred cannon had been directed 
 against the Russians, but that the Russians still held their 
 ground. 
 
 " Our fire mows them down in rows, but still they stand," 
 said the aide. 
 
 " Us en veulent encore ! They want some more of the 
 same ! " said Napoleon in his husky voice. 
 
 " Sire ? " inquired the aide, not quite understanding what 
 the emperor said. 
 
 "Us en veulent encore" repeated Napoleon in his hoarse 
 voice, with a frown, " donnez leurs-en. Give it them." 
 
 Even without his orders what he did not wish was accom- 
 plished, and he repeated the form of the injunction, simply 
 because he imagined that the injunction was expected of him. 
 And again he returned into that former artificial Avorld of 
 illusions as to his majesty, and once more like a horse 
 which walks on the sliding plane of the tread-mill and all the 
 time imagines that he is doing something for himself again 
 he began stubbornly to fulfil that cruel, painful, and trying 
 and inhuman role which was imposed upon him.
 
 278 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 It was not that on this day and this hour alone the intellect 
 and conscience of this man, on whom weighed more heavily 
 than on all the other participants of this action the responsi- 
 bility for what was taking place, were darkened, but never, 
 even to the end of his life, was he able to realize the goodness, 
 or the beauty or the truth, or the real significance of his 
 actions, since they were too much opposed to goodness and 
 right, too far removed from all that was human, for him to be 
 able to realize their significance. He could not disavow his 
 actions, since they were approved by half of the world, and 
 consequently he was compelled to disavow truth and goodness 
 and all that was humane. It was not alone when having rid- 
 den round the field of battle strewn with dead and mutilated 
 men as he fondly supposed, through his volition that in 
 contemplating these men, he tried to calculate how many Rus- 
 sians one single Frenchman stood for, and, deceiving himself, 
 found good reason for rejoicing that one Frenchman was equal 
 to five Russians ! This was not the only day that he wrote in 
 his letter to P*aris that le champ de bataille a ete superbe 
 that the battle-field was magnificent because there were 
 fifty thousand corpses on it ; but on the Island of Saint 
 Helena as well, in the silence of his" solitude, where he de- 
 clared that he was going to devote his leisure moments to an 
 exposition of the mighty deeds which he had accomplished, 
 he wrote : 
 
 " The Russian war should have been the most popular war of modern 
 times: it was one of sound common sense and genuine advantage, cal- 
 culated to bring peace and security to all ; it was purely pacific and con- 
 servative. 
 
 " Its great purpose was to put an end to contingencies and to establish 
 security. A new horizon, new labors would have opened up and brought 
 well-being and prosperity to all. The European system was established; 
 all that was left to do was to organize it. 
 
 "Satisfied on these great questions, and at peace with all the world, I 
 also should have had my CONGRESS and my HOLY ALLIANCE. Those 
 ideas were stolen from me. In this great council of monarchs we should 
 have discussed our interests as in a family, and ruled the nations with 
 a high sense of our responsibilities. 
 
 " Thus Europe would soon have become in reality but a single people, 
 and every man, wherever he might travel, would always find himself in 
 the common fatherland. I would have insisted on all navigable rivers 
 being free to all, on all having equal rights to all seas, and on all the 
 great standing armies being henceforth reduced to a guard for the 
 sovereigns. 
 
 " On my return to France, being established in the heart of a country 
 rendered great, magnificent, tranquil, glorious, 1 should have, proclaimed 
 her boundaries unchangeable: all future war purely defensive ; all new 
 aggrandizement anti-national. I should have made m'y son my partner
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 279 
 
 on the throne; my dictatorship would have ended and his constitutional 
 reign would have begun 
 
 " Paris would have become the capital of the world and the French 
 the envy of the nations. 
 
 "Then my leisure and my old days would have been devoted, during 
 my son's royal apprenticeship, to making tours in company with the 
 empress with our own horses and taking our time, like a worthy coun- 
 try couple through all the nooks and corners of the empire, receiving 
 petitions, redressing wrongs, establishing wherever we went and every- 
 where monuments and benefactions." * 
 
 This man foreordained by Providence to play the painful, 
 predestined part of executioner of the nations, persuaded him- 
 self that the end and aim of his actions was the good of the 
 nations, and that he could have ruled the destinies of millions, 
 and loaded them with benefits, if he had been given the 
 power ! 
 
 He wrote further concerning the Kussian war as follows : 
 
 " Out of the four hundred thousand men who crossed the Vistula, 
 half were Austrians, Prussians, Saxons, Poles, Bavarians, Wiirttem- 
 bergers, Mecklenbergers, Spaniards, Italians, and Neapolitans. The im- 
 perial army, properly speaking, was one-fourth composed of Dutch and 
 Belgians, the inhabitants of the banks of the Rhine, Piedmontese, Swiss, 
 Genevese, Tuscans, Romans, the inhabitants of the thirty-second mili- 
 tary district, Bremen, Hamburg, etc. ; it counted scarcely one hundred 
 and forty thousand men who spoke French. The Kussian expedition 
 cost France less than fifty thousand men; the Russian army, during the 
 retreat from Vilno to Moscow in the various battles, lost four times as 
 many as the French army; the burning of Moscow cost the life of one 
 hundred thousand Russians, who perished of cold and starvation in the 
 forests, and moreover, in its march from Moscow to the Oder, the Rus- 
 
 * La guerre de Russie a du etre la plus populaire des temps modernes : 
 c'e'tait celle du bon sens et des vrafs interets, celle du repos et de la security 
 de tons ; elle etait purement pacifi.que et conservatrice. C'etait pour la 
 grande cause, la fin des hasards et le commencement de la securite. Un nouvel 
 horizon, de nouveaux travaux allaient se derouler, tout pie in du bien-etre et de 
 la prosperite de tous. Le systeme Europeen se trouvait fonde : il n'etait plus 
 question que de Vorganiser. Satisfait sur ces grands points et tranquille par- 
 tout, j'aurais eu aiissi mon congres et ma sainte-alliance. Ce sont des idees 
 qu'on ra'a voices. Dans cette reunion de grands souve^rains, nous eussions 
 traites de nos interets enfamille et compte de clerc a maitre avec les peuples, 
 L'Europe n'eitt bientot fait de la sorte v entablement qu'un meme peuple, et 
 chacun, en voyayeantpartout, sefut trouve tou jours dans la patrie commune. 
 J'eus demande toutes les rivieres navigables pour tous, la coinmunaute des 
 mers et que les grandes armies permanentes fussent re'duites desormais a la 
 settle garde des souverains. De retour en France au sein de la patrie, grande, 
 forte, magnifique, tranquille, glorieuse, j'evsse proclamg ses limites immut- 
 able s ; toute guerre futuj^e, purement defensive ; tout agrandissement nouveau 
 anti-national. J'eusse associe monfils a I'empire ,* ma dictature eut Jini, et 
 son regne constitutional eut commence'. Paris eut ete la capitale du monde, 
 et les francais I'envie des nations. Mes loisirs ensuite et mes vieux jours 
 eussent ete consacres, en compagnie de Vemperatrice et durant I'apprentissage 
 royal de monfils, a visiter lentement et en vrai couple campagnard, avec nor 
 propres chevaux, tous les recoins de I'empire, recevant les plaintes, redressan 
 les torts, semant de toutes parts etpartout les monuments ei les bienfaits, etc.
 
 280 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 sian array suffered from the inclemency of the season. On its arrival at 
 Vilno it counted only fifty thousand men, and at Kalish less than eighteen 
 thousand." 
 
 Ho imagined that the war with Russia came about by his 
 own will, and the horror of what took place did not stir his 
 soul within him. He audaciously took upon himself the entire 
 responsibility of the event, and his darkened intellect found jus- 
 tification in the fact that, among the hundreds of thousands of 
 men destroyed, there were fewer French than Hessians and 
 Bavarians ! 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 SEVERAL score thousands of men lay dead in various posi- 
 tions and uniforms on the fields and meadows belonging to 
 Mr. Davuidof and certain crown serfs, on those fields and 
 meadows where for centuries the peasants of Borodino, Gorki, 
 Shevardino, and Semenovskoye had with one accord harvested 
 their crops and pastured their cattle. 
 
 Around the field lazarets, for several acres, the grass and 
 ground were soaked with blood. Throngs of men, wounded 
 and not wounded, belonging to various commands, from the 
 one side fell back to Mozhaisk, from the other to Valuyevo. 
 Other throngs, weary and hungry, led by their chiefs, moved 
 onward to the front. Still others stood in their places and 
 went on firing. 
 
 Over the entire field where, in the morning, the sun had 
 shone on glittering bayonets and wreaths of smoke, now low- 
 ered a wrack of damp and smoke, and the air was foul with a 
 strange reek of nitrous fumes and blood. 
 
 Clouds had gathered, and the rain-drops began to fall on the 
 dead, on the wounded, on the panic-stricken, and the weary, 
 and the despairing. It seemed to say to them : ' " Enough ! 
 enough ! ye men ! Cease ! Remember ! What are ye doing ? " 
 
 The men on either side, utterly weary, without nourish- 
 ment and without rest, began alike to question whether it 
 were any advantage for them longer to exterminate each 
 other, and hesitation could be seen m every face, and in every 
 mind the question arose : " Why, wherefore are ye killing 
 and being killed ? Kill whomever ye please, do whatever ye 
 please, but as for me I will no more of it ! " 
 
 This thought, toward late afternoon, alike burned in the 
 heart of each. At any moment all these men might suddenly 
 manifest their horror at what they had been doing, give it 
 all up and fly anywhere it might happen.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 281 
 
 But although, toward the end of the struggle, the men be- 
 gan to feel all the horror of their actions, although they would 
 have been glad to cease, some strange, incomprehensible, mys- 
 terious power still continued to direct them, and the surviving 
 gunners, one out of every three, covered with sweat, 
 grimed with powder, and stained with blood, staggering and 
 panting with weariness, still lugged the projectiles, charged 
 the guns, sighted them, applied the slow-matches, and the 
 shot flew just, as swiftly and viciously from the one side and 
 the other, and crushed human forms, and still that strange 
 affair went on which was accomplished, not by the will of 
 men, but by the will of Him who rules men and worlds. 
 
 Any one who had looked at the vanishing remnants of the 
 Russian army would have said that all the French needed to 
 do would be to put forth one small last effort and the Russian 
 army would vanish, and any one who had looked at the rem- 
 nants of the French would have said that all that the Rus- 
 sians had to do was to make one small last effort and the 
 French would be destroyed. But neither the French nor the 
 Russians put forth this last effort, and the flame of the conflict 
 slowly flickered out. 
 
 The Russians did not make this effort because they did not 
 charge the French. At the beginning of the battle they 
 merely stood on the road to Moscow, disputing it, and in 
 exactly the same way they continued to stand at the end of 
 the battle as they had stood at the beginning. But if the 
 aim of the Russians had been to defeat the French, they 
 could not put forth this last effort because all the Russian 
 troops had been defeated, there was not a single division of 
 their army that had not suffered in the engagement, and, 
 though the Russians still held their own, they had lost a 
 HALF of their troops. 
 
 The French, with the recollections of all their fifteen years 
 of past victories, with their confidence in Napoleon's invinci- 
 bility, with the consciousness that they had got possession of 
 a portion of the battle-field, that their loss was only a quarter 
 of their contingent, and that they had still twenty thousand 
 in reserve, not counting the Guard, might easily have put 
 forth this effort. The French, who were attacking the Rus- 
 sian army with the intention of defeating it, ought to have 
 made this effort, 'because so long as the Russians disputed the 
 road to Moscow, as they did before the battle began, the aim 
 of the French was not attained, and all their efforts and 
 losses were. thrown away.
 
 282 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 But the French did not put forth this effort. 
 
 Certain historians assert that Napoleon had only to send 
 forward his Old Guard, who were still fresh, and the battle 
 would have been won. To say what would have happened if 
 Napoleon had sent forward the Guard is just the same as to 
 say what would happen if autumn turned into spring. 
 
 It was an impossibility. 
 
 Napoleon did not send forward his Guard, not because he 
 did not want to do it, but because it was impossible for him 
 to do it. All the generals, all the officers and soldiers of the 
 French army knew that it was impossible to do this, because 
 the dejected spirit of the army would not allow it. 
 
 Napoleon was not the only one to experience that night- 
 mare feeling that the terrible blow of the arm was falling in 
 vain, but all his generals, all the soldiers of the French army 
 who took part or who did not take part, after all their experi- 
 ences in former battles, when, after exerting a tenth as much 
 force as now, the enemy would be vanquished, now r experi- 
 enced alike a feeling of awe at that enemy which, having 
 lost a HALF of its troops, still stood just as threateningly at 
 the end as it had stood at the beginning of the engagement. 
 
 The moral force of the French attacking army was exhausted. 
 
 Victory is not that which is signalized by the fastening of 
 certain strips of cloth called flags to poles, nor by the space 
 on which troops have stood or are standing ; but victory is 
 moral, when the one side has been persuaded as to the moral 
 superiority of the other and of its own weakness ; and such a 
 victory was won by the Russians over the French at Borodino. 
 
 The invading army, like an exasperated beast of prey, having 
 received, as it ran, a mortal wound, became conscious that it 
 was doomed ; but it could not halt any more than the Russian 
 army, which was not half so strong, could help giving way. 
 After the shock which had been given, the French army was 
 still able to crawl to Moscow; but there, without any new 
 efforts on the part of the Russian troops, it was doomed to 
 perish, bleeding to death from the mortal wound received at 
 Borodino. 
 
 The direct consequence of the battle of Borodino was Napo- 
 leon's causeless flight from Moscow, the return along the old 
 Smolensk highway, the ruin of the five hundred thousand men 
 of the invading army, and the destruction of Napoleonic 
 France, on which at Borodino was for the first time laid the 
 hand of an opponent stronger by force of spirit !
 
 PART THIRD. 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 IT is impossible for the human intellect to grasp the idea of 
 continuous motion. Man can begin to understand the laws of 
 any kind of motion only when he takes into consideration 
 arbitrarily selected units of such motion. But at the same 
 time from this arbitrary division of unbroken motion into 
 measurable units flows the greater part of human errors. 
 
 Take, for instance, the so-called " sophism " of the ancients, 
 to prove that Achilles would never overtake a tortoise that 
 had the start of him, even though Achilles ran ten times 
 more swiftly than the tortoise. As soon as Achilles had 
 passed over the distance between them, the tortoise would 
 have advanced one-tenth of that distance; Achilles runs 
 that tenth, the tortoise advances a hundredth, and so on ad 
 infinitum. 
 
 This problem seemed to the ancients unsolvable. The 
 
 fallacy of the reasoning that Achilles would never overtake 
 
 the tortoise arose from this : simply, that intermitted units of 
 
 motions were arbitrarily taken for granted, whereas the 
 
 i motion of Achilles and the tortoise were continuous. 
 
 By assuming ever smaller and smaller units of motion, we 
 only approach the settlement of this question, we never really 
 attain to it. Only by assuming infinitesimal quantities, 
 and the progression up to one-tenth, and by taking the sum of 
 this geometrical progression, can we attain the solution of the 
 question. The new branch of mathematics which is the 
 science of reckoning with infinitesimals enables us to deal 
 with still more complicated problems of motion, and solves 
 problems which to the ancients seemed unanswerable. 
 
 This new branch of mathematics, which was unknown to 
 the ancients, and applies so admirably to the problems of 
 motion, by admitting infinitesimally small quantities, that 
 is, those by which the principal condition of motion is 
 re-established, namely, absolute continuity, in itself cor- 
 rects the inevitable error which the human mind is bound to 
 
 283 
 
 -
 
 284 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 make when it contemplates the separate units of motion 
 instead of continuous motion. 
 
 In searching for the laws of historical movements precisely 
 the same things must be observed. The progress of humanity, 
 arising from an infinite collection of human wills, is continu- 
 ous, 
 
 The attainment of the laws of this onward march is the 
 aim of history. 
 
 But in order to discover the laws of continuous motion in 
 the sum of all the volitions of men, human reason assumes 
 arbitrary and separate units. History first studies an arbi- 
 trary series of uninterrupted events, and contemplates it sep- 
 arate from the others, albeit there is and can be no beginning 
 of an event, but every event is the direct outgrowth of its' 
 predecessor. 
 
 Secondly, history studies the deeds of a single _ man, a tsar, 
 a colonel, as representing the sum of men's volitions, when 
 in reality the sum of men's volitions is never expressed in the 
 activities of any one historical personage. 
 
 The science of history is constantly taking ever smaller and 
 smaller units for study, and in this way strives to reach the 
 truth. But, however small the units which history takes, we 
 feel that the assumption of any unit separate from another, 
 the assumption of a beginning of any phenomenon whatever, 
 and the assumption that the volitions of all men are ex- 
 pressed in the actions of any historical character, must be 
 false per se. 
 
 Every deduction of history falls to pieces, like powder, 
 without the slightest effort on the part of a critique, leaving 
 nothing behind it, simply in consequence of the fact that the 
 critique chooses as the object of its observation a more or less 
 interrupted unit ; and it has always the right to do this, since 
 every historical unit is always arbitrary. _ 
 
 Only by assuming the infinitesimal unit for our observation 
 as the differential of history in other words the homo- 
 geneous tendencies of men, and by attaining the art of 
 integrating (calculating the sum of these infinitesimal dif- 
 ferentials), can we expect to attain to the laws of history. 
 
 The first fifteen years of the nineteenth century in Europe 
 exhibit an extraordinary movement of millions of men. Men 
 abandon their ordinary vocations, rush from one end of 
 Europe to the other, rob, slaughter each other ; they triumph 
 and despair, and the whole course of their lives is for a
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 285 
 
 number of years changed, and undergoes a powerful move- 
 ment, which at first goes on increasing and then slackens. 
 
 " What is the cause of this movement, or by what laws did 
 it take place ? " asks the human mind. 
 
 The historians, replying to this question, bring to our notice 
 certain acts and speeches of certain dozens of men, in one of 
 the buildings of the city of Paris, and call these acts and 
 speeches " the Revolution ; " then they give a circumstantial 
 account of Napoleon, and of certain sympathizers and 
 enemies of his, tell about the influence which certain of these 
 individuals had upon the others, and they say : " This was 
 the cause of this movement, and here are its laws." 
 
 But the human mind not only refuses to put credence in this 
 explanation, but declares, up and down, that this manner of 
 explanation is fallacious, for the reason that, according to it, 
 a feeble phenomenon is taken as the cause of a mighty one. 
 The sum of human volitions produced both the Revolution 
 and Napoleon, and only the sum of these volitions sustained 
 them and destroyed them. 
 
 " But in every case where there have been conquests there 
 have been conquerors ; in every case where there have been 
 revolutions in a kingdom there have been great men," says 
 history. 
 
 " Indeed, in every case where conquerors have appeared, 
 there have been wars," replies human reason ; but this does 
 not prove that the conquerors were the cause of the wars, 
 or that it is possible to discover the laws of war in the per- 
 sonal activity of a single man. 
 
 In every case when I, looking at my watch, observe that 
 the hand points at ten, I hear the bells ringing in . the neigh- 
 boring church ; but from the fact that in every case when the 
 hand reaches ten o'clock, the- ringing of the bells begins, I 
 have no right to draw the conclusion that the position of the 
 hands is the cause of the motion in the bells.< 
 
 Every time when I observe an engine in motion, I hear the 
 sound of the whistle, I see the valves open and the wheels in 
 motion ; but from this I have 110 right to conclude that the 
 whistle and the movement of the wheels are the cause of the 
 movement of the engine. 
 
 The peasants say that in late spring the cold wind blows 
 because the oak-tree is budding, and it is a fact that every 
 spring a cold wind blows when the oaks are in bloom. But, 
 although the cause of the cold wind blowing during the blos- 
 soming-time of the oaks is unknown to rne, I am unable to
 
 286 WAR 
 
 agree with the peasants in attributing the cause of the cold 
 winds to the bourgeoning buds on the oaks, for the reason that 
 the force of the wind has nothing to do with the oak-buds. I 
 see only a coincidence of their conditions, which is found in 
 all the phenomena of life, and I see that, no matter how care- 
 fully I may contemplate the hands of the watch, the valves 
 and wheels of the engine, and the oak-buds, I shall never learn 
 the cause that makes the church-bell chime, the engine to 
 move, and the wind to blow in the spring. To discover this, 
 I must entirely change my point of view, and study the laws 
 that regulate steam, bells, and the wind. 
 
 History must do the same thing. 
 
 And experiments in this have already been made. 
 
 For, studying the laws of history, we must absolutely change 
 the objects of our observation, leave kings, ministers, and 
 generals out of the account, and select for study the homoge- 
 neous, infinitesimal elements which regulate the masses. No 
 one can say how far it is given to man to attain by this path 
 toward understanding the laws of history ; but evidently it 
 is only on this path that there is any possibility of grasping 
 the laws of history, and the human intellect has not, so far, 
 devoted to this method the one-millionth part of the energies 
 which have been expended by historians in the description of 
 the deeds of various kings, captains, and ministers, and in the 
 elucidation of their combinations, . which were based upon 
 these deeds. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE forces of a dozen nations of Europe invaded Russia. 
 
 The Russian army and the people, avoiding collision, with- 
 draw before the enemy to Smolensk, and from Smolensk to 
 Borodino. The French army, with continually increasing im- 
 petus, advances upon Moscow, the goal of its destination. 
 
 As it approaches the goal, its impetus increases, just as 
 the velocity of a falling body increases as it approaches the 
 earth. Behind it are thousands of versts of devastated, hos- 
 tile country ; before it, only a few dozen versts separate it 
 from its goal. Every soldier in Napoleon's army is conscious 
 of this, and the invading force moves forward by its own 
 momentum. 
 
 In the Russian army, in proportion as it retreats, the spirit 
 of fury against the enemy becomes more and more mflamed: 
 during the retreat it grows concentrated and more vigorous.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 287 
 
 At Borodino, the collision takes place. 
 
 Neither the one army nor the other is dispersed, but imme- 
 diately after the collision, the Russian army recoils, as inev- 
 itably as a ball recoils when struck by another in the impetus 
 of full flight. And just as inevitably the colliding ball 
 moves a certain distance forward (although it loses its force 
 by the collision). 
 
 The Russians retire one hundred and twenty versts to a 
 point beyond Moscow ; the French enter the city, and there 
 come to a standstill. 
 
 During the five weeks that follow, there is not a single 
 battle. The French do not stir. 
 
 Like a wild beast mortally wounded, which licks its pro- 
 fusely bleeding wounds, the .French remain for five weeks at 
 Moscow, making no attempts to do anything. Then, suddenly, 
 without apparent reason, they fly back ; they take the road to 
 Kaluga, and, after one more victory, since the field of Malo- 
 Yaroslavets is theirs, they retreat still more rapidly, without 
 risking any important battle, to Smolensk, beyond Smolensk, 
 beyond Vilno, beyond the Berezina, and so on. 
 
 On the night of September 7, Kutuzof and the whole Rus- 
 sian army were persuaded that they had won the battle of 
 Borodino. Kutuzof even thus reported to his sovereign. 
 
 Kutuzof gave orders to prepare for another battle to finish 
 with the enemy, not because he wanted to deceive any one, 
 but because he knew that the enemy had been beaten ; and 
 this fact was likewise known by both parties in the battle. 
 
 But that night, and the next day, reports began to arrive of 
 the unprecedented losses sustained, of the army being reduced 
 to one-half, and another battle seemed physically impossible. 
 
 It was vain to undertake another battle, when their condi- 
 tion was as yet unknown, their wounded uncared for, their 
 dead uncounted, fresh missiles not furnished, new officers not 
 replacing their dead generals, and their men unrefreshed by 
 food and sleep. 
 
 Moreover, the French army, immediately after the battle, 
 the next morning, by the law of momentum, its force increas- 
 ing inversely according to the square of the distance, had 
 already begun to move of itself upon the Russian army. 
 
 Kutuzof wanted to renew the attack on the following day, 
 and all his army desired this. But the desire to make an 
 attack is not enough. There must also be the possibility pf 
 doing it ; and in this case possibility was lacking. 
 
 It was impossible to prevent retreating one day's march;
 
 288 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 in the same way, it was impossible to prevent retreating a 
 second day's march, then a third, and finally, when, on Sep- 
 tember 13, the army reached Moscow, although the troops had 
 regained their spirits, the force of circumstances obliged 
 them to retire beyond the city, and they made this one last 
 retrograde movement and abandoned Moscow to the enemy. 
 
 To those who are wont to think that generals plan their 
 wars and battles in the same way as we, seated tranquilly in 
 our libraries, with a map spread before us, make up combina- 
 tions and ask ourselves what measures we should have taken 
 in such and such a war, to such persons the questions arise, 
 Why did not Kutuzof, in beating a retreat, stop in this place 
 or in that ? why did he not occupy some position before 
 reaching Fili ? why did he not at once take the road to 
 Kaluga, leaving Moscow to itself ? and so on. 
 
 Men wonted to think in this way forget or do not know 
 the inevitable conditions by which every commander-in-chief 
 must act. His occupation has nothing 'at all analogous to 
 what we fondly imagine it to be ; we sit comfortably in our 
 libraries, picking out, with the aid of a map, a campaign 
 with a given number of troops on the one side and the other, 
 and in a given locality, and beginning at some given moment. 
 
 The general-in-chief is never, at the beginning of an action, 
 surrounded by conditions such as we always have when we 
 consider the action. The commander-in-chief is always at the 
 centre of a series of hurrying events, so that he is not in a 
 condition, for a single instant, to comprehend the whole 
 significance of what is going on. The action is imperceptible, 
 unfolding from instant to instant ; and at every instant of 
 this uninterrupted, continuous succession of events, the com- 
 mander-in-chief is at the centre of a complicated game of 
 intrigues, labors, perplexities, responsibilities, projects, coun- 
 sels, dangers, and deceits, and is obliged to reply to an infi- 
 nite number of contradictory questions, which are submitted 
 to him. 
 
 Military critics assure us, in the most serious manner, that 
 Kutuzof should have led his troops along the Kaluga road, 
 before ever he thought of retreating to Fili ; that such a 
 course was even suggested to him. But a commander-in- 
 chief has, especially at a decisive moment, not one project 
 alone, but a dozen projects to examine at once. And all of 
 these projects, based upon strategy and tactics, are mutually 
 contradictory. It is the office of the commander-in-chief, so 
 it would seem, simply to select some pue of these projects that
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 289 
 
 are suggested ; but even this lie cannot do. Time and events 
 will not wait. 
 
 Let us suppose that on the tenth of September it is proposed 
 to Kutuzof to cross over to the Kaluga road, but that at the 
 same moment an adjutant from Miloradovitch gallops up, 
 and asks whether they shall at once engage with the French 
 or retire. This question must be decided instantly. But the 
 order to retire prevents us from the detour along the Kaluga 
 highway. 
 
 Immediately after the adjutant, the commissary asks 
 where the stores are to be transported ; the chief of ambu- 
 lance wishes to know where the wounded shall be carried ; a 
 courier from Petersburg brings a letter from the sovereign, 
 declaring the abandonment of Moscow to be impossible ; a 
 rival of the commander-in-chief, who is 'trying to undermine 
 his authority, there are always several such, not one alone, 
 presents a new plan, diametrically opposed to that favoring 
 retreat by the Kaluga road. 
 
 The commander-in-chief is thoroughly exhausted, and needs 
 sleep and refreshment. But a general who has been passed 
 over without a decoration comes to make a complaint ; the 
 inhabitants implore protection ; an officer, who has been sent 
 out to reconnoitre, returns, and brings a report directly con- 
 trary to that brought by the officer who had been sent out 
 before him ; a spy and a captive and a general who have made 
 a reconnoitring tour all describe in a different way the posi- 
 tion of the enemy. 
 
 Men who are not Accustomed to consider, or who forget the 
 inevitable conditions controlling the activity of every com- 
 mander-in-chief, show us, for example, the situation of the 
 troops at Fili, and take for granted that the commander-in- 
 chief had till September 13 to decide the question as to the 
 abandonment or defence of Moscow ; whereas, in the position 
 of the Russian army, within five versts of Moscow, this ques- 
 tion could not even arise. 
 
 At what point, then, was this question decided ? 
 
 It was decided at Drissa, at Smolensk, still more palpably, 
 on September 5, at Shevardino, at Borodino on the 7th, and 
 every day, every hour, and every minute of the retreat from 
 Borodino to Fili. 
 VOL. 3. 19.
 
 290 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE Russian army, having retreated from Borodino, paused 
 at Fili. Yermolof, who had been sent by Kutuzof to recon- 
 noitre the position, came back to the field-marshal and said : 
 " There is no possibility of fighting in this position." 
 
 Kutuzof looked at him in amazement, and asked him to repeat 
 what he had said. When he did so, Kutuzof reached toward 
 him : 
 
 "Give me your hand," said he; and, turning it round so as 
 to feel his pulse, he said : " You are ill, my dear ! * Think 
 what you are saying." 
 
 Not even yet could Kutuzof comprehend that it was within 
 the limits of possibility to retire beyond Moscow without a 
 battle. Kutuzof got out of his carriage on the Paklonnaya f 
 Hill, six versts from the Dorogomilovskaya barrier, and sat 
 down on a bench at the edge of the road. A portentous array 
 of generals gathered around him. Count Rostopchin, who 
 had driven out from Moscow, joined them. 
 
 All this brilliant society, dividing itself into little circles, 
 was discussing together the advantages and disadvantages of 
 the position, the condition of the forces, the various plans pro- 
 posed, the state of Moscow, and about military matters in gen- 
 eral. All felt that this was a council of war, although they 
 had not been convened for the purpose, and though it was not 
 called so. ^.11 conversation was confine^ to the domain of 
 these general questions. If any one communicated or heard 
 private news, it was done in a whisper, and such digressions 
 were immediately followed by a return to the general ques- 
 tions ; not a jest, not a laugh, not even a smile, was exchanged 
 among all these men. 
 
 All, though it evidently required an effort, tried to maintain 
 themselves to the height of the occasion. And all these 
 groups, engaged in conversation, strove to keep close to the 
 commander-iii-chief the bench on which he sat was the centre 
 of these circles and they spoke so that they might be over- 
 heard by him. 
 
 The commander-in-chief listened, and occasionally asked 
 for a repetition of what was said around him ; but he did not 
 himself mingle in the conversation, and he expressed no opin- 
 ion. For the most part, after listening to what was said in 
 * Golubchik. t Salutation.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 291 
 
 any little group, he would turn abruptly away with a look of 
 disgust, as though what they said was not at all what he 
 wanted to hear. 
 
 Some talked about the position chosen ; criticising not the 
 position so much as they did the intellectual characteristics of 
 those who had selected it. Others tried to prove that a mis- 
 take had been made before, that they should have accepted 
 battle two days before ; still others were talking about the 
 battle of Salamanca, which a Frenchman, named Crossart, 
 who had just arrived in a Spanish uniform, described to them. 
 
 This Frenchman was discussing the siege of Salamanca, with 
 one of the German princes serving in the Russian army, and 
 laying it down that Moscow could be defended in the same 
 way. 
 
 In a fourth group, Count Rostopchin was declaring that he, 
 together with the Moscow city troop,* had been ready to per- 
 ish under the walls of the capital, but that still he could not 
 help regretting the uncertainty in which he had been left, and 
 that if he had only known about this before, things would 
 have been different. 
 
 A fifth group, making a display of the profundity of their 
 strategical calculations, talked about the route which our 
 troops ought to have taken. A^ sixth group talked sheer non- 
 sense. 
 
 Kutuzof s face kept growing more and more troubled and 
 melancholy. From all these scraps of conversation he drew 
 one conclusion : that to defend Moscow was not a physical 
 possibility in the full meaning of the words ; that is, so far it 
 was an impossibility that if any commander-in-chief should 
 be senseless enough to issue the order to give battle, confu- 
 sion would ensue, and no battle would take place ; it would 
 not take place for the reason that all the high nachalniks not 
 only pronounced the position untenable, but, as they talked, 
 they gave their opinions only in regard to what was to ensue 
 after the abandonment of this position, which was taken for 
 granted. How could these generals lead their troops upon a 
 field of battle which they regarded as untenable ? 
 
 The nachalniks of lower rank, even the soldiers (who also 
 had their opinions), in the same way, considered the position 
 impossible, and, therefore, they could not be expected to fight 
 when they were morally sure that they were going to be de- 
 feated. If Benigsen still urged the defence of this position, 
 and the others still were willing to discuss it, this question, 
 
 * Druzhina.
 
 292 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 nevertheless, had no significance in itself ; the only signifi- 
 cance was the pretext which it offered for quarrels and intrigues. 
 Kutuzof understood this. 
 
 Benigsen, having selected a position, hotly insisted on the 
 defence of Moscow, thereby making a show of his Russian 
 patriotism. Kutuzof, as he listened to him, could not help 
 frowning. Benigsen's motive was to him as clear as day ; in 
 case of disaster and failure, he would lay the blame on Kutu- 
 zof, who had led the troops, without a battle, to the Sparrows 
 Hills ; while, in the event of success, he would claim all the 
 credit of it for himself ; but if he refused to make the at- 
 tempt, he would wash his hands of the crime of abandoning 
 Moscow. 
 
 But the old man was not at the present occupied with this 
 intrigue. One single, terrible question occupied him. And 
 the answer to this question he could obtain from no one. 
 This question now merely consisted in this : 
 
 "Is it possible that I have allowed Napoleon to reach Mos- 
 cow, and when did I do it ? When was this decided upon ? 
 Was it yesterday, when I sent to Platof the order to retreat, 
 or was it day before yesterday, in the evening, when I was 
 sleepy, and ordered Benigsen to make what dispositions he 
 pleased ? Or was it before that ? But when, when was this 
 terrible deed decided upon ? Moscow must be abandoned ! 
 The troops must retire, and this order must be promul- 
 gated ! " 
 
 To issue this terrible order seemed to him tantamount to 
 resigning the command of the army. But, though he loved 
 power, and was used to it (the honor granted to Prince Pro- 
 gorovsky, to whose staff he was attached while he was in 
 Turkey, annoyed him), still he was persuaded that the salva- 
 tion of .Russia was predestined to be Accomplished by him; 
 and, only for this reason, against the sovereign's will, and in 
 accordance with the will of the people, he had been placed in 
 supreme command. He was convinced that he alone could, 
 in these trying circumstances, maintain himself at the head 
 of the army ; that he was the only one in all the world who 
 was able to view without horror the invincible Napoleon as 
 his opponent, and he was overwhelmed at the mere thought of 
 the command which he was obliged to give. But it was essen- 
 tial to come to some decision; it was essential to cut short 
 these discussions around him, which were beginning to as- 
 sume altogether too free a character. 
 
 He called to him the senior generals,
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 293 
 
 " Ma tete, fut elle bonne ou mauvaise, n'a qu'd, s' aider d'elle- 
 meme my judgment, whether good or bad, must be its own 
 reliance," said he, as he got up from the bench ; and he drove 
 to Fili, where his horses were stabled. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A COUNCIL was convened at two o'clock, in the largest and 
 best room of the muzhik Andrei Savostyanofs cottage. The 
 men, women, and children belonging to the muzhik's large 
 household were huddled together in the living-room * across 
 the entry. Only Andrei's granddaughter, Malasha, a little 
 girl of six summers, whom his serene highness had caressed 
 and given a lump of sugar, while he was drinking tea, remained 
 in the large room, on the stove. Malasha coyly and gleefully 
 looked down from the stove on the faces, uniforms, and 
 crosses of the generals who came one after the other into the izba 
 and took their places on the wide benches in the " red corner," 
 under the holy pictures. 
 
 The " little grandfather " f himself, as Malasha secretly 
 called Kutuzof, sat apart from the rest, in the " dark corner," 
 behind the stove. He sat deeply ensconced in a camp-chair, 
 and kept grumbling and pulling at his coat-collar, which, 
 though it was turned back, seemed to choke him. 
 
 The men, as they came in one at a time, came to pay their 
 respects to the field-marshal. He shook hands with some of 
 them ; he merely nodded to others. Adjutant Kaisarof w^as 
 about to draw the curtain at the window, over against Kutu- 
 zof, but the general fiercely waved his hand at him, and Kai- 
 sarof understood that his serene highness did not wish his face 
 to be seen. Around the muzhik's deal table, whereon lay 
 maps, plans, lead-pencils, sheets of paper, were gathered so 
 many men that the servants had to bring in still another 
 bench and set it down near the table. 
 
 On this bench sat the late comers : Yermolof, Kaisarof, and 
 Toll. Under the images, in the place of honor, sat Barclay 
 de Tolly, with the George round his neck, and with pale, 
 sickly face and lofty brow, between which and the bald head 
 there was no dividing line. For two days he had been suffer- 
 ing from an attack of ague, and at this very moment he was 
 chilled and shaking with fever. 
 
 Next him sat Uvarof, and in a low tone of voice (which 
 * Chtfrnaya izba (black hut), the back room. t Dyedushka.
 
 294 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 they all used) was making some communication with swift, 
 eager gestures. 
 
 The little round Dokhturof, arching his brows and folding 
 his hands on his paunch, was attentively listening. 
 
 On the other side sat Count Ostermann-Tolstoi, with fear- 
 less features and gleaming eyes, leaning his big head on his 
 hand, and seemed immersed in his thoughts. 
 
 Rayevsky, with a look expressing impatience, was, as usual, 
 engaged in twisting his black curls forward into love-locks, 
 and now gazed at Kutuzof, now at the front door. 
 
 Konovnitsuin's reliable, handsome, good face was lighted 
 by a shrewd and friendly smile. He was trying to catch Ma- 
 lasha's eyes, and was winking at her and making the little 
 one smile. 
 
 All were waiting for Benigsen ; who had made a pretext of 
 wishing once more to examine the position so as to eat his 
 sumptuous dinner in peace. They waited for him from four 
 o'clock till six ; and all that time they refrained from any delib- 
 eration, but talked in undertones about irrelevant matters. Only 
 when Benigsen entered the izba did Kutuzof leave his corner 
 and approach the table, but even then he took care that the 
 candles placed there should not light up his face. 
 
 Benigsen opened the council with the question, " Shall the 
 holy and ancient capital of Russia be deserted without a blow 
 being struck, or shall it be defended ? " A long and uninter- 
 rupted silence followed. All faces grew grave, and in the 
 silence could be heard Kutuzof s angry grunting and cough- 
 ing. All eyes were fixed upon him. Malasha also gazed at 
 the " little grandfather." She was nearer to him than any of 
 the others, and could see how his face was covered with frowns : 
 he seemed to be ready to burst into tears. But this did not 
 last long. 
 
 " The holy, ancient capital of Russia ! " he suddenly re- 
 peated in a gruff voice, repeating Benigsen's language, and 
 thereby making them feel the false note in these words. 
 " Permit me to tell you, your illustriousness, that this ques- 
 tion has no sense for a Russian." (He leaned forward with 
 his heavy body.) " It is impossible to face such a question, 
 and such a question has no sense. The question for which I 
 have convened these gentlemen is a military one. That 
 question is as follows : The salvation of Russia is her army. 
 Would it be more to our advantage to risk the loss of the 
 army and of Moscow too by accepting battle, or to abandon 
 Moscow without a battle ? It is on this question that I wish
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 295 
 
 to know your minds." (He threw himself back into his chair 
 again.) 
 
 The discussion began. 
 
 Benigsen refused to believe that the game was yet played 
 out. Granting the opinion of Barclay and the others, that it 
 was impossible to accept a defensive battle at Fili, he, being 
 thoroughly imbued with Russian patriotism and love for 
 Moscow, proposed to lead the troops during the night, over 
 from the right to the left flank, and on the next day to 
 strike a blow at the right wing of the French. 
 
 Opinions were divided ; discussion waxed hot over the pros 
 and cons of this movement. Yermolof, Dokhturof, and 
 Rayevsky concurred with Benigsen's views. Whether they 
 were dominated by a sense that some sacrifice was necessary 
 before the capital was abandoned, or whether it was personal 
 considerations that influenced them, still the fact was, all 
 these generals seemed unable to comprehend that this advice 
 could not alter the inevitable course of events, and that Mos- 
 cow was already practically abandoned. 
 
 The other generals understood this, and, setting aside the 
 question of Moscow, they merely discussed the route which 
 the army in its retrograde march should take. 
 
 Malasha, who, with steady eyes, gazed at what was going on 
 before her, understood the significance of this council in an 
 entirely different way. It seemed to her that the trouble was 
 merely a personal quarrel between the " little grandfather " 
 and " long-skirts," as she called Benigsen. She saw that they 
 got excited when they talked together, and her soul clung to 
 the " little grandfather's " side. 
 
 In the midst of the discussion she remarked the keen, shrewd 
 glance which he cast upon Benigsen, and immediately after, 
 much to her delight, she noticed that the " little grandfather," 
 in saying something to "long-skirts," offended him. Benig- 
 sen suddenly flushed, and angrily walked across the room. 
 The words which had such an effect upon Benigsen were 
 spoken in a calm, low tone, and merely expressed Kutuzof s 
 opinion as to the advisability or inadvisability of Benigsen's 
 suggestion ; that is, to lead the troops during the night, from 
 the right to the left flank, so as to attack the right wing of 
 the French. 
 
 " Gentlemen ! " said Kutuzof, " I cannot approve of the 
 count's plan. Transfers of troops in the immediate proximity 
 of the enemy are always dangerous, and military history con- 
 firms this view. Thus for example " (Kutuzof paused as
 
 296 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 though trying to call up the desired example, and gave Benig- 
 sen a frank, naive look) " yes, suppose we should take the 
 battle of Friedland, which I presume the count remembers 
 was well about as good as given away simply for the 
 reason that our troops attempted to cross from one flank to 
 the other while the enemy were in too close proximity " 
 
 A silence followed, lasting for a minute, but seeming an age 
 to all present. 
 
 The discussion was again renewed ; but there were frequent 
 interruptions, and there was a general feeling that there was 
 nothing more to be said. 
 
 During one of these lulls in the conversation, Kutuzof drew 
 a long sigh, as though he were preparing to speak. All looked 
 at him. 
 
 " Eh lien, Messieurs, je vois qy,e c'est moi qui payerai les pots 
 casses I see that I must bear the brunt of it," said he. And 
 slowly getting to his feet he approached the table, " Gen- 
 tlemen, I have listened to your views. Some of you will be 
 dissatisfied with me. But " - (he hesitated) " I, in virtue of 
 the power confided to me by the sovereign and the country, 
 I command that we retreat." 
 
 Immediately after this, the generals began to disperse with 
 that solemn and silent circumspection which people observe 
 after a funeral. Several of the generals, in low voices, but in 
 an entirely different key from that in which they had spoken 
 during the council, made some communication to the com- 
 mander-in-chief. 
 
 Malasha, who had long since been expected at the supper 
 table, cautiously let herself down backwards from the loft, cling- 
 ing with her little bare toes to the projections of the stove, and, 
 slipping between the legs of the officers, darted out of the door. 
 
 Having dismissed the generals, Kutuzof sat for a long time 
 with his elbows resting on the table and pondering over the 
 same terrible question : " When was it, when was it, that it 
 was finally decided Moscow must be abandoned ? When 
 took place that which decided the question ? and who is to 
 blame for it ? " 
 
 "I did not expect this, I did not expect it," said he aloud to 
 his adjutant, Schneider, who came to him late that night. " I 
 did not expect this. I did not dream of such a thing ! " 
 
 " You must get some rest, your serene highness," said 
 Schneider. 
 
 " It's not done with yet ! They shall chaw horse-flesh yet 
 like the Turks," cried Kutuzof, not heeding him, and thump- 
 ing his fat fist on the table. " They shall as soon as "
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 297 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 
 
 IN contradistinction to Kutuzof, though at the same time. 
 
 and in an event of far greater importance than the retreat o 
 
 the army without lighting, namely, in the abandonment and 
 
 burning of Moscow, Rostopchin, who has been considered 
 
 the responsible agent for this action, behaved in an entirely 
 
 different manner. This event the abandonment of Moscow 
 
 and its destruction by fire was just exactly, after the battle 
 
 I ..of Borodino, as inevitable as the retirement of the troops 
 
 ! beyond Moscow, without fighting. 
 
 Every man in Russia might have predicted what took place, 
 not indeed by basing his deductions on logic, but by basing 
 them on that sentiment which is inherent in ourselves- and 
 was inherent in our forefathers. 
 
 What happened in Moscow likewise happened and that 
 too without Count Rostopchin's proclamations in all the 
 cities and villages of the Russian land, beginning with Smo- 
 lensk. The nation unconcernedly awaited the arrival of the 
 foe, displaying no disorder, no excitement, tearing no one in 
 pieces, but calmly awaiting their fate, conscious that, even at 
 the most trying moment, they should find they had the power 
 to do whatever was required of them. And as soon as the 
 foe approached, the more wealthy elements of the population 
 departed, leaving their possessions behind them ; the poorer 
 classes staid, and burned and destroyed what Avas abandoned. 
 
 The* conviction that things must be as they are has always 
 been and still is inherent in the Russian mind. And this 
 conviction nay, more, the presentiment that Moscow would 
 be taken pervaded Russian and Moscovite society in the 
 year 1812. Those who started to abandon Moscow as early as 
 July and the beginning of August showed that this was what 
 they expected. Those who fled, taking with them whatever 
 they could, and abandoning their houses and the half of their 
 possessions, acted thus in obedience to that latent patriotism 
 which is expressed not in phrases, nor in the slaughter of 
 children for the salvation of the fatherland, and by other un- 
 natural deeds, but is expressed imperceptibly, simply, organi- 
 cally, and, accordingly, always produces the most powerful 
 results. 
 
 " It is disgraceful to flee from danger ; only cowards will fly 
 from Moscow/' it was said to them, Rostopcbin, in Jus
 
 298 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 Afishki, declared that it was ignominious to leave Moscow. 
 They were ashamed to be branded as cowards, they were 
 ashamed to go ; but still they went, because they knew that it 
 had to be so. 
 
 What made them go ? 
 
 It is impossible to suppose that Eostopchin frightened them 
 by his cock-and-bull stories of the atrocities committed by 
 Napoleon in conquered lands. They fled, and the first to flee 
 were the wealthy, cultivated people, who knew perfectly well 
 that Vienna and Berlin were left intact, and that there, dur- 
 ing Napoleon's occupation, the inhabitants led a gay life with 
 the fascinating Frenchmen, who at that time were so beloved 
 by Eussian men and particularly Eussian women. 
 
 They went, because for Russians there could be no question 
 whether it would be good or bad to have the French in control 
 of Moscow. It was impossible to exist under the dominion of 
 the French : that was worse than aught else. They began to 
 escape even before the battle of Borodino, and after the battle 
 of Borodino with greater and greater rapidity, not heeding 
 the summons to remain and protect the city, notwithstanding 
 the statements of the governor-general of Moscow as to his 
 intention of taking the Iverskaya virgin and going forth to 
 fight, and notwithstanding the balloons which were destined 
 to bring destruction upon the French, and notwithstanding all 
 the nonsense which Count Eostopchin wrote about in his 
 proclamations. 
 
 They knew that the army ought to fight, and that if it 
 could not, then it was no use for them to go out with their 
 fine ladies and their household serfs to Tri Gorui * to do battle 
 with Napoleon, but that it was necessary for them to make 
 their escape, however much they might regret leaving their 
 property to destruction. 
 
 They fled, and gave never a thought to the majestic signifi- 
 cance of this splendid and rich capital abandoned by its in- 
 habitants, and unquestionably doomed to be burned (for it 
 is not in the nature of the Eussian populace not to sack, not to 
 set fire to empty houses) ; they fled each for himself ; but, at 
 the same time, merely as a consequence of their fleeing, was 
 accomplished that majestic event which will forever remain 
 the crowning glory of the Eussian people. 
 
 That noble lady t who, even as early as the month of June, 
 took her negroes and her jesters, and went from Moscow to 
 her country place near Saratof, with a vague consciousness 
 * Three Hills. t Bdruinya.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 299 
 
 that she was no slave to Bonaparte, and with some apprehen- 
 sion lest she should be stopped by Count Rostopchin's orders, 
 was simply and naturally doing the mighty act that was to 
 prove the salvation of Russia. 
 
 Count Rostopchin himself, now putting to shame those who 
 fled, now transferring the courts outside the city, now dis- 
 tributing good-for-nothing arms to a drunken mob, now dis- 
 playing the holy pictures, now forbidding Avgustin to remove 
 the relics and ikons, now seizing all private conveyances that 
 were in Moscow, now conveying on one hundred and thirty-six 
 carts the balloon constructed by Leppich, now hinting that he 
 should set Moscow on fire, now declaring that he had burnt 
 his own house, now writing a proclamation to the French in 
 which he solemnly reproached them for having destroyed his 
 Foundling Asylum ; now taking the glory of the burning of 
 Moscow, now disclaiming it ; now ordering the people to cap- 
 ture all spies and bring them to him, now reproaching the 
 people for doing that very thing ; now sending all the French 
 out of Moscow, while, at the same time, leaving in the city 
 Madame Aubert-Chalme, whose house was the centre of the 
 whole French population of Moscow ; and now, without a 
 shadow of excuse, ordering the honorable director of the 
 posts, the venerable Kliucharef, to be arrested and banished ; 
 now collecting the populace on the Tri Gorui, in order to do 
 battle with the French, and now, in order to get rid of this 
 same mob, giving them a man to slaughter, while he himself 
 slipped out from a rear gate ; now declaring that he would not 
 survive the misfortune of Moscow, now writing French verses * 
 in albums to commemorate the part that he took in these 
 deeds, this man did not appreciate the significance of the 
 deed accomplished, but he merely desired to do something 
 himself, to astonish some one, to accomplish something patri- 
 otically heroic, and, like a child, he sported over the majestic 
 and inevitable circumstance of the abandonment r.nd burning 
 of Moscow, and strove with his puny little hand now to 
 encourage, now to stem the current of that tremendous popu- 
 lar torrent which was carrying him along with it. 
 
 * Je sins ne tartar e; 
 
 Je voidais etre romain ; 
 Lesfrangais m'ajypelerent barbare, 
 Les russes Georges Dandin. 
 
 I was born a Tatar. I wanted to be a Roman. The French called me a 
 barbarian, the Russians George Dandin. AUTHOR'S NOTE. (George Dan- 
 din, a character in one of Moliere's plays, is the type of a peasant raised te 
 the nobility, and marrying a rich wife, who proves unfaithful.)
 
 300 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 CHAPTEE VI. 
 
 ELLEN, who had returned with the court from Vilno to 
 Petersburg, found herself in a trying and delicate situation. 
 
 At Petersburg, Ellen enjoyed the special protection of a 
 grandee who held one of the most important offices in the 
 empire. 
 
 But at Vilno she had become intimate with a young foreign 
 prince. When she returned to Petersburg, the prince and the 
 grandee were both in town ; both claimed their rights, and 
 Ellen found that she had to face a new problem in her career : 
 to preserve her intimacy with both without offending either. 
 
 What would have seemed difficult and even impossible for 
 any other woman did not cause the Countess Bezukhaya even 
 a moment's hesitation, thereby proving that it was not in vain 
 she enjoyed the reputation of being a very clever woman. If 
 she had tried to hide her actions, to employ subterfuge in 
 escaping from an awkward position, she would, by that very 
 method, have spoiled her game by confessing herself guilty. 
 But Ellen, on the contrary, openly after the manner of a 
 truly great man, who can do anything that he pleases, as- 
 sumed that she was in the right, as she really believed, and 
 that all the rest of the world were in the wrong. 
 
 The first time when the young foreign personage permitted 
 himself to reproach her, she, proudly holding high her beau- 
 tiful head, and looking at him over her shoulder, said 
 steadily, 
 
 " Here is an example of man's egotism and cruelty \ I might 
 have expected it. A woman sacrifices herself for you, and this 
 is her reward ! What right have you, monseigneur, to hold 
 me to account for my friendships, for my affections ? This 
 man has been more than a father to me." * 
 
 The personage began to make some answer. Ellen inter- 
 rupted him. "Well, then, grant it!" said she, "perhaps he 
 has for me other sentiments than those of a father ; but that is 
 no reason why I should shut my door to him. I am not a 
 man that I should be ungrateful. I would have you under- 
 stand, monseigneur, that in all that touches my private feel- 
 ings, I am accountable only to God and my conscience," she 
 said, in conclusion, and pressed her hand to her beautiful, 
 heaving bosom, with a glance toward heaven. 
 
 * Voila I'eyoisme et la cruatttc des hommes, etc.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 301 
 
 " But, for God's sake, listen to me." 
 
 " Marry me and I will be your slave." 
 
 " But it is impossible." 
 
 " You are too proud to stoop to marriage with me, you * " 
 said Ellen, bursting into tears. 
 
 Tlie ])ersonage tried to console her. Ellen, through her tears, 
 declared (as though she had forgotten herself) that no one 
 could prevent her from marrying ; that there were examples 
 at that time there were few examples, but she mentioned 
 Napoleon and other men of high degree ; that she had never 
 been to her husband what the name of wife implies ; and that 
 she had been led to the altar as a sacrifice. 
 
 " But laws, religion " murmured the personage, beginning 
 to yield. 
 
 " Laws, religion ! Why were they ever invented, if they 
 could not help in such a case as this ? " 
 
 The exalted personage was amazed that such a simple line 
 of reasoning had never entered his mind, and he applied for 
 advice to the holy brethren of the Society of Jesus, with whom 
 he stood in intimate relationship. 
 
 A few days later, at one of the enchanting fetes which .Ellen 
 gave at her datcha, or suburban residence, on the Kamennoi 
 j Ostrof, M. de Jobert, un Jesuits a role courte, a fascinating man, 
 no longer young, with hair as white as snow, and with dark, 
 glittering eyes, was presented to her ; and for a long time, as 
 they sat in the garden in the brilliant light of the illuminations, 
 and listening to the sounds of music, he conversed with her 
 about love to God, to Christ, to the Sacred Heart of Mary, and 
 about the consolations vouchsafed in this life and the life to 
 come by the one true Catholic religion. 
 
 Ellen was touched, and several times the tears stood in the 
 eyes of both of them, and her voice trembled. 
 
 The dance to which a partner came to engage Ellen inter- 
 rupted her interview with her future directeur de conscience ; 
 but in the evening of the following day M. de Jobert came 
 alone to Ellen's, and from that time he was frequently at her 
 house. 
 
 One day he took the countess to the Catholic church, and 
 there she remained on her knees before the altar, to which she 
 was brought. 
 
 The elderly, fascinating Frenchman laid his hands on her 
 lead, and, as she herself afterwards declared, she became con- 
 scious of something like the fanning of a cool breeze which 
 * Vous ne daignez pas descendrejtisqu'a moi, vous
 
 302 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 entered her soul. It was explained to her that this was la 
 grace, 
 
 Then an able a role longue was introduced to her. He heard 
 her confession, and granted her absolution from her sins. 
 
 On the next day they brought her a casket in which was 
 contained the Holy Communion, and they left it in her house 
 for her use. 
 
 After a few days, Ellen, to her satisfaction, learned that she 
 had now entered the true Catholic Church, and that shortly the 
 pope should be 'informed about it, and would send her a cer- 
 tain document. 
 
 All that happened at this time around her and within her; 
 all the attention lavished upon her by so many clever men, and 
 expressed in such agreeable, refined forms ; and the dove-like 
 purity in which she now found herself these days she con- 
 stantly wore white dresses with white ribbons all this afforded 
 her great satisfaction, but she did not for a moment allow this 
 satisfaction to prevent her from the attainment of her desires. 
 
 And, as it always happens that in a matter of finesse the 
 stupid man obtains more than the clever, she, comprehending 
 that the object of all these words and labors consisted chiefly 
 in making her pay for the privilege of conversion to Catholi- 
 cism by turning over certain moneys for the advantage of Jesuit 
 institutions, concerning which they had dropped various hints, 
 
 Ellen, before turning this money over, insisted on their 
 
 execution in her behalf of the various formalities which would 
 free her from her husband. 
 
 In her idea, the significance of any religion consisted only 
 in observing certain conventionalities, while at the same time 
 allowing the gratification of human desires. 
 
 And, with this end in view, during one of her interviews 
 with her spiritual guide, she strenuously insisted on his an- 
 swering her question, how far she was bound by her marriage. 
 
 They were sitting in the drawing-room, by the window. It 
 was twilight. Through the window wafted the fragrance of 
 flowers. Ellen wore a white dress, which scarcely veiled her 
 bosom and shoulders. The abbe, handsome and plump, with fat 
 face smooth-shaven, pleasant, forceful mouth, and white hands 
 folded on his knees, was sitting close to Ellen, and, with a 
 slight smile on his lips and eyes, decorously devouring her 
 beauty, was looking from time to time into her face, and ex- 
 plaining his views on the question that occupied them. 
 
 Ellen, with an uneasy smile, looked at his flowing locks, his 
 smooth-shaven, dark-shaded, plump cheeks, and each moment
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 303 
 
 expected some new turn to the conversation. But the abbe, 
 though he evidently appreciated his companion's beauty, was 
 carried away by the skill which he used in his arguments. 
 
 The course of reasoning employed by the director of con- 
 science was as follows : 
 
 "In you-r ignorance of the significance of what you took 
 upon yourself, you plighted your troth to a man who, on his 
 side, by entering into marriage without believing in the reli- 
 gious sacrament of marriage, committed sacrilege. This mar- 
 riage had no complete significance, such as it should have. But, 
 nevertheless, your vow binds you. You have broken it. What 
 have you committed thereby, peche veniel or ^>ecAe mortel ? 
 Venial sin, because what you have done has been without evil 
 intent. If you now, for the- sake of having children, should 
 enter into a marriage bond, your sin might be forgiven you. 
 But this question resolves itself into two : first " 
 
 "But I think," said Ellen, suddenly losing patience and 
 beaming upon him with her fascinating smile, " I think that, 
 now that I have entered into the true faith, I cannot remain 
 bound by what was imposed upon me by a false religion." 
 
 The directeur de conscience was astonished at this solution, 
 which had all the simplicity of Columbus's egg. He was de- 
 lighted by the unexpected rapidity with which his teachings 
 had met with success, but he could not refrain from following 
 out the train of thought which he had elaborated with so much 
 pains. 
 
 " Let us understand each other, comtesse" he said, with a 
 smile, and he proceeded to refute his spiritual daughter's rea- 
 soning. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 ELLEN understood that the matter was very simple and easy 
 from the religious standpoint, but that her spiritual directors 
 stood out against it simply because they were apprehensive 
 of the way it might strike the temporal powers. 
 
 And, consequently, Ellen resolved that it was necessary for 
 society to be prepared for this eventuality. She aroused the 
 old grandee's jealousy, and told him exactly what she had said 
 to her first suitor ; in other words, she made him understand 
 that the only way of establishing his rights over her was to 
 marry her. 
 
 The aged personage, at the first moment, was just as much 
 Astonished as the young personage ha4 been at this proposal
 
 304 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 of marrying during the husband's lifetime. But Ellen's im- 
 perturbable assurance that this was as simple and natural as 
 the marriage of a virgin, had its effect even on him. If there 
 had been noticed the slightest symptom of vacillation, shame, 
 or underhandedness on Ellen's part, then her game would 
 have undoubtedly been lost ; but, on the contrary, she, with 
 simple and good-natured naivete, told her nearest friends (and 
 this was all Petersburg) that both the grandee and the prince 
 had proposed to her, and that she was in love with both of 
 them, and afraid of paining either. 
 
 The rumor was instantly bruited through Petersburg not 
 that Ellen desired to obtain a divorce from her husband : if 
 this report had been current, very many would have protested 
 against such a lawless proceeding that the unhappy, inter- 
 esting Ellen was in perplexity as to which of the two men she 
 should marry. 
 
 The question was not at all. how far this was permissible, 
 but which party was the most desirable, and how the court 
 looked upon it. There were, to be sure, a few obdurate people, 
 who were unable to rise to the height of this question, and who 
 saw in this project a profanation of the marriage sacrament ; 
 but such people were few, and they held their peace, while the 
 majority were merely interested in the question which Ellen 
 would choose, and which choice were the better. As to the 
 question whether it were right or wrong to marry a second 
 time during the lifetime of the first husband, nothing was 
 said, because this question had been evidently settled for 
 people " who were wiser than you and me " (so they said), and 
 to express any doubt of the correctness of "such a settlement 
 of the question was to run the risk of showing one's stupidity 
 and one's ignorance of society. 
 
 Marya Dmitrievna Akhrasimova, who had gone that summer 
 to Petersburg to visit one of her sons, was the only one who 
 permitted herself frankly to express her opinion, though it 
 was in direct contravention to that of society in general. 
 Meeting Ellen one time at a ball, Marya Dmitrievna stopped 
 her in the middle of the ballroom, and in her loud voice, which 
 rang through the silence, she said, 
 
 " So you propose to marry again while your other husband 
 is alive ! Perhaps you think you have discovered something 
 new i You have been forestalled, matushka. This thing 
 
 was invented long ago. In all the they do the same 
 
 thing." 
 
 And with these words Marya Dmitrievna, with that charac-
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 305 
 
 teristic, threatening gesture of hers, turned back her flowing 
 sleeves, and, glancing sternly around, passed through the 
 room. 
 
 Marya Dmitrievna, although she was feared, was regarded 
 in Petersburg as facetious, and therefore, in the words which 
 she spoke to Ellen, they merely took notice of her use of the 
 coarse word, and repeated it in a whisper, supposing that 
 therein lay all the salt of her remark. 
 
 Prince Vftsili, who of late had grown peculiarly forgetful, 
 and repeated himself a hundred times, said to his daughter 
 whenever he chanced to see her, 
 
 " Helene, fai un mot a vous dire," he would say to her, draw- 
 ing her to one side and giving her hand a pull. " J'ai eu vent 
 de certains projets relatifs a vous savez. Eh bien,'ma chere 
 enfant, vous savez que mon occur de pere se rejouit de vous savoir 
 vous avez tant souffert. Mais chere enfant, ne consultez 
 que votre cwur. C'est tout ce queje vous dis." * 
 
 And, hiding the emotion that always overmastered him, he 
 would press his cheek to his daughter's, and go away. 
 
 Bilibin had not lost his reputation of being a clever man, 
 and as he had been a disinterested friend of Ellen's, one of 
 those friends whom brilliant women always manage to attach 
 to them, men who may be relied upon never to change from 
 friend to lover, he once, e'n petit comite, gave Ellen the benefit 
 of his views in regard to all this business. " ficoutez, Bilibin," 
 said Ellen, who always called all such friends as Bilibin by 
 their last names, and she laid her white hand, blazing with 
 rings, on his coat-sleeve : " Tell me as you would a sister, what 
 ought I to do ? Which one of the two ? " 
 
 Bilibin knitted his brows, and sat reflecting with a smile on 
 his lips. 
 
 " You do not take me by surprise, do you know," said he. 
 " As a true friend I have thought and thought about your 
 affairs. You see. If you marry the prince " (that was the 
 young man) he bent over his finger " you lose forever 
 your chance of marrying the other one, and, besides, you offend 
 the court. As you are aware, there is some sort of relation- 
 ship. But if you marry the old count, you will make his last 
 days happy, and then as the widow of the great the prince 
 
 * " Ellen, I have a word to say to you. I have heard rumors of certain pro- 
 jects concerning yoxt know who. Well, my dear child, you know that my 
 paternal heart would rejoice to feel you liave had. so much to endure. 
 But, dear child, consult only your own heart. That is all that I have to 
 say." 
 
 VOL. 3. 20.
 
 306 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 will not make a misalliance in contracting a marriage with 
 you." * 
 
 " Voild un veritable ami ! a true friend ! " cried Ellen radi- 
 antly, and once more laying her hand on his sleeve. " But the 
 trouble is that I love both of them ; I should not wish to pain 
 either of them. I would sacrifice my life to make both of 
 them happy," said she. 
 
 Bilibin shrugged his shoulders as much as to say that even 
 he himself could not endure such a grievous thing. 
 
 "Une maitresse-femme ! That is what is called stating the 
 question squarely. She would like to have all three as hus- 
 bands at once ! " thought Bilibin. " But tell me how your 
 husband is going to look upon this matter," he asked, trusting 
 to the solid foundation of his reputation, and therefore having 
 no fear of hurting himself by such an artless question. " Will 
 he consent ? " 
 
 "Ahf il m'aime tant ! He loves me so !" cried Ellen, who 
 had somehow conceived the notion that Pierre also loved her ! 
 " He will do anything for me ! " 
 
 Bilibin again puckered his forehead, so as to give intimation 
 of the approaching mot : " Meme le divorce ? " he asked. 
 
 Ellen laughed. 
 
 Among those who permitted themselves to doubt the legality 
 of the proposed marriage was Ellen's mother, the Princess 
 Kuragina. She was constantly tortured by jealousy of her 
 daughter, and now when the cbject that especially aroused this 
 jealousy was the one dearest to the princess's heart, she could 
 not even endure the thought of it. She consulted with a Rus- 
 sian priest in regard to how far divorce and marriage during 
 the life of the husband were permissible, and the priest 
 informed 'her that this was impossible, and to her delight 
 pointed out to her the G-ospel text, where it is strictly forbid- 
 den to marry again during the life of a husband. 
 
 Armed with these arguments, which seemed to her irrefu- 
 table, the princess drove to her daughter's early one morning, 
 so as to find her alone. 
 
 After listening to her mother's objections, Ellen smiled a sweet 
 but satirical smile. " Here it is said in so many words," said the 
 old princess. " He who ever shall marry her who is put away " 
 
 * Vous ne me^prenez en rasplokh, vous savez. Comme veritable annfai 
 pense et repense a votre affaire. Voycz vous. Si vous e'pousez le prince, vous 
 perdez pour ton jours la chance d'e'pouw I'autre, et puis vous me'cojitentez la 
 Cour (comme vous savez, il y a une espece de parent?). Mais si vous epousez 
 le vieux comte vous failes le bonheur de ses derniers jours, et puis comme 
 veuve du grand le prince ne fait plus de mesalliance en vous e'pousant.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 307 
 
 " Ah, maman, ne dites pas de betises. Don't talk nonsense. 
 You do not understand at all. Dans ma position fai des 
 devoirs" interrupted Ellen, changing the conversation into 
 French, since it always seemed to her that the Russian brought 
 out a certain lack of defmiteness in this transaction of hers. 
 
 " But, my dear " 
 
 "Ah, maman! Can't you understand that the Holy Father, 
 who has the right to grant dispensations " 
 
 At this instant the lady companion who lived at Ellen's 
 came in to announce that his highness was in the drawing- 
 room and wished to see her. 
 
 "No, tell him that I do not wish to see him, that I am 
 furious with him because he has broken his word ! " 
 
 " Comtesse, a tout pevhe, misericorde ! There is a pardon 
 for every sin ! " said a fair young man, with a long face and 
 long nose, who came into the room. 
 
 The old princess arose most respectfully and courtesied ; 
 the young man who came in paid no attention whatever to 
 her. The princess nodded to her daughter and sailed out. 
 
 "Yes, she is right," mused the old princess, all of whose con- 
 victions were dissipated by the sight of his highness. " She 
 is right. But how was it we did not know this in those days 
 which will never return, when we were young ? And it is 
 such a simple thing," mused the old princess, as she took her 
 seat in her carriage. 
 
 Toward the beginning of August, Ellen's affairs were en- 
 tirely settled, and she wrote her husband who was so fond 
 of her as she thought informing him of her intention of 
 marrying N.K, and that she had embraced the one true 
 religion, and begging him to fulfil all the indispensable for- 
 malities of the divorce, in regard to which the bearer of her' 
 letter would give due particulars. u And so I pray God, my 
 dear, to have you in his holy and mighty protection. 
 
 "Your Friend, ELLEN."* 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 TOWARD the end of the battle of Borodino, Pierre, fleeing for 
 the second time from the Rayevsky battery, joined a throng 
 of soldiers hurrying along the ravine to Kniazkovo, and came 
 
 * " Sur ce je prie Dieu, mon ami, de vous avoir sous $a samte et puissante 
 yarde. Votre Amie, Helene."
 
 308 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 to the field lazaret, and there seeing blood, and hearing cries and 
 groans, he hurried on, mingling with the throngs of soldiers. 
 
 The one thing which Pierre now desired with all the powers 
 of his soul was to escape as soon as possible from these ter- 
 rible scenes through which he had lived that day, to return to 
 the ordinary conditions of every-day life, and to sleep calmly 
 in his own bed, in his own room. He was conscious that only 
 by getting back to ordinary conditions would he be able to 
 understand himself and all that he had seen and experienced. 
 But these ordinary conditions of life were non-existent. 
 
 Although cannon-balls and bullets were not whistling along 
 this part of the road where he was walking, still there was on 
 all sides of him what he had seen on the battle-field. There 
 were the same suffering, tortured, and sometimes strangely in- 
 different physiognomies, the same gore, the same military 
 cloaks, the same sounds of firing although softened by dis- 
 tance, but still causing ever new horror, and, beside, this 
 suffocating heat and dust. 
 
 Proceeding three versts along the great Mozhaisk highway, 
 Pierre sat down on the edge of it. 
 
 Twilight had settled down on the earth, and the roar of 
 artillery had died away. Pierre leaned his head on his hands 
 and sat in this posture for a long time, watching the shadows 
 trooping by him in the dusk. It constantly seemed to him as 
 though a cannon-shot were flying down upon him with that 
 terrible screech. He began to^tremble and got up. He had no 
 idea how long a time he had been delaying there. Late in the 
 night, three soldiers, dragging down some brushwood, started 
 a fire near him and made themselves at home. These soldiers, 
 looking askance at Pierre, kindled their fire, put their kettle 
 on it, crumbled hard-tack into it, and laid on their salt pork. 
 
 The agreeable savor of appetizing viands and of frying min- 
 gled with the odor of the smoke. Pierre stood up and drew 
 a sigh. The soldiers there were three of them were eat- 
 ing and conversing together and paid no heed to Pierre. 
 
 " Well, what corps are yon from ? " suddenly asked one of 
 the soldiers, addressing Pierre, and evidently, by this question, 
 wishing to signify and Pierre understood it so, "If you want 
 something to eat we will give it to you ; only tell us if you 
 are an honest man/ 7 
 
 "''What? I? I?" stammered Pierre, feeling it incum- 
 bent upon him to belittle his social position so far as possible, 
 so as to be nearer and more accessible to the soldiers; 
 
 " I am at present an officer of the landsturm ; only I have
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 309 
 
 missed my corps ; T went into the battle and got separated 
 from my men." 
 
 " To think of it ! " * said one of the soldiers. 
 
 One of the others shook his head. 
 
 " Well, have something to eat, if you'd like our mess," said 
 the first, and after licking off the wooden spoon he handed it 
 to Pierre. 
 
 Pierre sat down by the fire and began to eat the pottage 
 which was in the kettle, and which seemed to him the most 
 palatable of anything he had ever tasted in his life. While 
 he greedily bent over the kettle, fishing out great spoonfuls 
 and swallowing them down one after another, his face was 
 lighted by the fire, and the soldiers silently studied him. 
 
 " Where do you want to go ? Tell us that ! " asked one of 
 them again. 
 
 " I want to go to Mozhaisk." 
 
 " You are a barin, I suppose ? " 
 
 Yes." 
 
 " And what's your name ? " 
 
 " Piotr Kirillovitch." 
 
 "Well, Piotr Kirillovitch, come on, we'll show you the way." 
 
 In utter darkness the soldiers and Pierre went toward 
 Mozhaisk. 
 
 The cocks were already crowing when they came near the 
 town and began to climb the steep slope that led to it. Pierre 
 went on with the three men, entirely forgetting that his 
 tavern was below at the foot of the hill, and that he had 
 already gone beyond it. He would not have remembered it at 
 all he had got into such a state of apathy if half-way up 
 the hill he iiad not accidentally fallen in with his equerry, 
 who had been searching for him in the town, and was on his 
 way back to the tavern. 
 
 " Your illustriousness," he exclaimed, " we have been in 
 perfect despair ! What ! Are you on foot ? Where have you 
 been, please ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes ! ' ; replied Pierre. 
 
 The soldiers paused. 
 
 " So, then, you have found your men, have you ? " asked 
 one of them. 
 
 " Well, good-by ! f Piotr Kirillovitch ; it's all right, is it ? " 
 " Good-by, Piotr Kirillovitch ! " cried the other voices. 
 
 " Good-by," said Pierre, and he started back with his 
 equerry to the tavern. 
 
 * Vish tui. f Prashchavai.
 
 310 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 " I ought to give them something," thought Pierre, feeling 
 in his pocket. " But no, it is not necessary,"' said some voice 
 within him. 
 
 There was no room for Pierre anywhere in the tavern ; all 
 the beds were taken. Pierre went out into the yard, and, 
 wrapping up his head, lay down in his calash. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 PIERRE had hardly laid his head on his extemporized pillow 
 before he felt himself going off to sleep ; but suddenly, with 
 almost the vividness of reality, he heard the bum! bum! 
 bum, ! of the firing, he heard cries, groans, the thudding of 
 missiles, he smelt blood and gunpowder; and a feeling of 
 horror and the terror of death took possession of him. 
 
 He opened his eyes in a panic, and lifted his head from his 
 cloak. All was quiet in the dvor. Only at the gates, talking 
 with the dvornik, and splashing through the mud, some one's 
 man was walking up and down. Over his head, under the 
 dark underside of the shed roof, the pigeons were fluttering 
 their wings, startled by the movement which he had made in 
 raising himself. The whole dvor was full of that powerful 
 barnyard odor, which, at that instant, delighted Pierre's heart 
 the odor of hay, of manure, and of tar. Through a chink 
 in the shed roof he could see the clear, starry sky. 
 
 " Thank God, there is no more of that" said Pierre to him- 
 self, again covering up his head. " Oh ! what a terrible panic, 
 and how shameful to give way to it. But they they were 
 calm and firm even to the very end," his thoughts ran on. 
 They, in Pierre's soliloquy, meant the soldiers who had been 
 in the battery, those who had given him food, and those who 
 had worshipped before the ikon. They he had never known 
 them till now they were clearly and sharply separated from 
 all other men. 
 
 " To be a soldier, a simple soldier," thought Pierre, as he 
 fell off to sleep. " To enter into that common life with all 
 my being, to learn the secret of what makes them what they 
 are ! But how to get rid of this superfluous, devilish weight 
 of the external man ? Once I might have been such. I 
 might have run away from my father's house, as I wanted to 
 do. I might even after my duel with Dolokhof have been sent 
 off as a common soldier." 
 
 And before Pierre's imagination arose the dinner at the
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 311 
 
 club, when he challenged Dolokhof, and his visit to the 
 Benefactor at Torzhok. And here Pierre recalled the Masonic 
 Lodge at Torzhok. This Lodge was installed at the English 
 Club. And some one whom he knew well, some one inti- 
 mately connected with his life, and dear to him, was sitting 
 at the end of the table. Yes, it was he ! It was the Bene- 
 factor ! 
 
 "Yes, and did he not die ?" mused Pierre. "Yes, he was 
 dead ; I did not know that he was alive. And how sorry I 
 felt that he was dead, and how glad I am that he is alive 
 again ! " 
 
 On one side of the table sat Anatol, Dolokhof, Nesvitsky, 
 Denisof, and others of the same sort, the category of these 
 men was just as clearly defined in his dream in Pierre's mind 
 as the category of the men whom he had spoken of as they ; 
 and these men Anatol, Dolokhof, and the rest were shout- 
 ing and singing at the top of their voices ; but above their 
 shouts he could hear the Benefactor's voice talking incessantly, 
 and the ring of his voice was as significant and continuous 
 as the roar of the battle-field, but he was soothed and com- 
 forted by it. 
 
 Pierre did not comprehend what the Benefactor was saying, 
 but he knew the category of his thoughts was so clear in his 
 dream that the Benefactor was talking about goodness, and 
 the possibility of being the same manner of man as they were. 
 And they came from all sides and surrounded the Benefactor 
 with their simple, good, steadfast faces. But, although they 
 were good, they did not look at Pierre, did not know him. 
 Pierre was anxious to attract their attention and to talk. He 
 started to get up, but his legs were cold and uncovered. 
 
 He was ashamed of himself, and was going to cover his 
 legs, from which his cloak had actually slipped off. While 
 Pierre was covering himself up again, he opened his eyes and 
 saw the same shed, the same beams, the same dvor, but every- 
 thing was enveloped in a bluish light, and sparkled with dew 
 or frost. 
 
 " Daybreak ! " thought Pierre. " But this is not what I 
 want. I must listen, hear, and understand the Benefactor's 
 words." 
 
 He again wrapped himself in his cloak, but there was no 
 longer any Masonic Lodge ; the Benefactor was gone. There 
 were simply thoughts, clearly expressed in words, thoughts 
 which either some one spoke or which Pierre himself ima- 
 gined.
 
 312 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 When he afterwards came to recall these thoughts, although 
 they were evidently superinduced by the impressions of the 
 day, Pierre was convinced that some one outside of himself 
 spoke them to him. 
 
 Never, so it seemed to him, while awake, had he been able 
 to think such thoughts or to express them in such language. 
 
 " The hardest thing for man to do is to subordinate his free- 
 dom to .the laws of God," said the voice. "Singleness is sub- 
 mission to God ; thou canst not escape from him. And they 
 are single-hearted. They do not talk, they act. Speech is 
 silver, but silence is gold. Man can never get the mastery, 
 since he is afraid of death. Whoso feareth not death, all 
 things shall be added unto him. If it were not for suffering, 
 man would not know his limitations, would not know himself." 
 " The hardest thing," continued Pierre either to think or to 
 hear in his dream, "consists in being able to co-ordinate In the 
 soul the knowledge of all things. To co-ordinate all things ? " 
 Pierre was asking. " No, not to co-ordinate. It is impossible 
 to co-ordinate thoughts ; but to take apart and analyze : that 
 is what is necessary ! Yes, to take apart, to take apart," said 
 Pierre, repeating the word over to himself with inward enthu- 
 siasm, conscious that by just these, and by these words only, 
 could be expressed what he desired to express, and have the 
 question decided that was forever tormenting him. 
 
 "Yes, take apart, time to take apart." 
 
 "We must make a start, time to make a start,* your illus- 
 triousness," repeated some voice at his ear. " Must make a 
 start, time to start." 
 
 It was the voice of the equerry trying to rouse Pierre. The 
 sun was shining full in Pierre's face. He looked at the muddy 
 yard of the dvor, in the centre of which, around the well, sol- 
 diers were watering lean horses, and from the gates of which 
 trains were starting away. Pierre turned away with disgust, 
 and, closing his eyes, made haste to roll over again on the car- 
 riage seat. 
 
 "No, I do not wish this, I do not wish to see this or to 
 understand it; I wish to comprehend what was revealed to 
 me while I was dreaming. Just one second more, and I should 
 have understood it all. Now, what must I do ? To take apart, 
 yes, but how take apart ? " 
 
 And Pierre found to his dismay that the whole significance 
 
 * Pierre's confusion of dreaming and waking ideas is caused by the simi- 
 larity between " sopriaydt," to unite, join, and " zapriagdt,** to hitch up, har- 
 ness 'horses.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 313 
 
 of what he had seen and thought out in his dream had gone 
 to destruction. 
 
 His equerry, the coachman, and the dvornik all told Pierre 
 that an officer had come with tidings that the French were 
 moving on Mozljaisk, and that they must start, and that our 
 forces were leaving. 
 
 Pierre got up and gave orders to have his horses harnessed 
 and to overtake him, as he was going to walk through the 
 town. 
 
 The troops had started, leaving about ten thousand wounded. 
 These wounded could be seen in the yards and windows of 
 the houses, and were met with in throngs along the streets. 
 The streets where stood the telyegas that were to carry away 
 the wounded were full of cries, curses, and the sounds of 
 blows. 
 
 Pierre overtook a wounded general of his acquaintance and 
 offered him a seat in his calash, and they drove on toward 
 Moscow together. On the road Pierre heard of the death of 
 his brother-in-law and of the death of Prince Andrei. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 ON the eleventh of September Pierre arrived at Moscow. 
 He had scarcely reached the barrier when he was met by one 
 of Count Rostopchin's adjutants. 
 
 " Well, we have been searching for you everywhere," said 
 the adjutant. '"The count is very anxious to see you. He 
 begs that you will come to him immediately on very impor- 
 tant business." 
 
 Pierre, without even going first to his own house, called an 
 izvoshchik and rode to the governor-general's. 
 
 Count Rostopchin had only that morning come to town 
 from his suburban datcha at Sokolniki. The anteroom and 
 reception-room of the count's residence were full of officials 
 who had come at his summons or to get orders. Vasilchikof 
 and Platof had already had an interview with the count, and 
 had informed him that it was impossible to defend Moscow, 
 and that it must be abandoned. This news was concealed 
 from the inhabitants, yet the chinovniks, the heads of the 
 various departments, knew that Moscow would soon be in 
 the hands of the enemy just as well as Count Rostopchin 
 knew it; and all of them, in order to shirk responsibility,
 
 314 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 came to the governor-general with inquiries as to what they 
 should do in their respective jurisdictions. 
 
 Just as Pierre entered the reception-room, a courier from 
 the army left the count's room. 
 
 The courier made a despairing gesture in answer to the 
 questions directed to him, and passed through the room. 
 
 On entering, Pierre, with weary eyes, gazed at the various 
 chinovniks, old and young, military and civil, who were wait- 
 ing in the room. All seemed anxious and ill at ease. 
 
 Pierre joined one group of chinovniks, among whom he saw 
 an acquaintance. After exchanging greetings with Pierre 
 they went on with their conversation. 
 
 " Whether they exile him or let him come back, there's no 
 telling; you can't answer for anything in such a state of 
 affairs." 
 
 ^ "Well, here's what he writes," said another, calling atten- 
 tion to a printed broadside which he held in his hand. 
 
 " That's another thing. That's necessary for the people," 
 said the first speaker. 
 
 " What is that ? " asked Pierre. 
 
 "This is the new bulletin." 
 
 Pierre took it and read as follows : 
 
 " His serene highness, the prince, in order to effect a junction as soon 
 as possible with the .troops coming to meet him, has 'passed through 
 Mozhaisk and occupied a strong position where the enemy will not find it 
 easy to reach him. Forty-eight cannon, with ammunition, have been 
 sent to him from hews, and his serene highness declares that he will shed 
 the last drop of his blood in defence of Moscow, and that he is ready to 
 light even in the streets. Brothers, do not be surprised that the courts of 
 justice have ceased to transact business: it was best to send them to a 
 place of safety, but the evil-doer shall have a taste of the law all the 
 same. When the crisis comes. I shall want some gallant fellows, from 
 both town and country. I shall utter my call a day or two before, but 
 it is not necessary yet. I hold my peace. An axe is a good weapon; a 
 boar-spear is not bad, but best of all is a three-lined pitchfork : a French- 
 man is no heavier than a sheaf of rye. To-morrow, after dinner I shall 
 take the Ivertkoya to the Yekaterininskaya Hospital, to the wounded. 
 Ihere we will bless the water: they will all the sooner get well, and I now 
 am well; I have had a bad eye, but now I see out of both/' 
 
 "But military men," said Pierre, "have told me that it was 
 perfectly impossible to fight in the city, and that the posi- 
 tion " 
 
 "Well, yes, that is just what we were talking about," inter- 
 rupted the first chinovnik. 
 
 "But what does he mean by saying: <I have had a bad 
 eye, but now I see out of both ' ? " asked Pierre.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 315 
 
 " The count had a stye," replied the adjutant, with a smile, 
 "and he was very much disturbed when I told him that peo- 
 ple were calling to ask what was the matter with him. But 
 how is it, count ? " said the adjutant abruptly, addressing 
 Pierre with a smile. " We have heard the rumor that you 
 have some domestic tribulations, that the countess, your 
 wife" 
 
 " I have heard nothing," replied Pierre indifferently ; " what 
 is this rumor ? " 
 
 " Oh, well, you know, stories are often invented. I am 
 only saying what I heard." 
 
 "But what did you hear ? " 
 
 "Well, they say," replied the adjutant, with the same 
 smile, "that the countess, your wife, is about to go abroad. 
 Of course, it is all nonsense " 
 
 " Perhaps so," said Pierre, heedlessly glancing around. 
 
 " But who is that ? " he asked, referring to an old man of 
 low stature, in a clean blue chuika,* and with an enormous 
 beard as white as the driven snow, eyebrows the same, and a 
 florid complexion. 
 
 "He ? That's a merchant : that is, he is the tavern-keeper 
 Vereshchagin. Perhaps you have heard that story about the 
 proclamation ? " 
 
 " Ah ! And so that is Vereshchagin," exclaimed Pierre, gaz- 
 ing into the calm, self-reliant face of the old merchant, and 
 trying to discover in it any characteristics of a traitor. 
 
 " Yes, that is the very man. That is, he is the father of the 
 one who wrote the proclamation," said the adjutant. " The 
 young man is in jail, and it looks as if it would go hard with 
 him." 
 
 A little old man with a star, and another chinovnik, a 
 German, with a cross suspended around his neck, joined the 
 group. 
 
 " You see," proceeded the adjutant with his story, " it is a 
 puzzling piece of business. This proclamation appeared a 
 couple of months back. It was brought to the count. He 
 ordered it investigated. Gavrilo Ivanuitch here looked into 
 it ; this proclamation passed through as many as sixty-three 
 hands. We go to a certain man: 'Whom did you get this 
 from ? ' < From so-and-so ' Off to him : ' Whom did you get 
 this from ? ' and so on, till it was traced to Vereshchagin 
 an ignorant little merchant. They ask him : ' Whom did you 
 
 * A sort of kaftan, or overcoat, like a dressing-gown, worn by men of the 
 lower classes in Kussia.
 
 316 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 hive this from ? ' And here you must understand that we 
 know whom he got it from : from no one else than the director 
 of posts. There had been i'or some time connivance between 
 them. But he says : ' I didn't get it from any one. I wrote it 
 myself.' They threatened and entreated : he stuck to it wrote 
 it himself. Well, now, you know the count," said the adju- 
 tant with a proud, gay smile. " He flew into a terrible rage, but 
 just think of it, such cunning, falsehood, and stubbornness ! " 
 . u Ah! the count wanted them to implicate Kliucharef, I 
 understand," said Pierre. 
 
 " Not at all," said the adjutant, startled. "They had sins 
 enough to lay against Kliucharef without this ; that was why 
 he was sent away. But the truth of the matter was, that the 
 count was very much stirred up. ( How could you have 
 written it ? ' asked the count. He picked up from the table 
 this Hamburg paper. ' H^re it is. You did not write it, but 
 you translated it. and you translated it atrociously, because 
 even in French you are an idiot clurak don't you know ? 
 Now, what do you think ? ' No,' says he, I have never 
 read any papers, I composed it.' * Well, if that is so, you are 
 a traitor and I will have you tried and hanged. Confess ! from 
 whom did you receive it ? ' ' I have never seen any papers. 
 I composed it myself!' And so it hung fire. The count 
 called the father also. He stood by his own. And they 
 handed them over to court, and, it seems, they condemned 
 him to penal labor. Now the father has come to intercede 
 for him. But what a wretched chap ! You know the kind 
 these merchants' sons, a regular macaroni ! a seducer ! got a 
 few lessons, and thinks himself a shade better than any one 
 else.* That is the kind of a fellow he is. And his father' 
 keeps a traktir there by the Kamennoi Bridge you know 
 there's a big picture of Almighty God, who is represented 
 with a sceptre in one hand and the imperial globe in the 
 other, well, he took this picture home for a few days, and 
 what do you think he did ? He found a beastly painter. 
 who" 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 IN the midst of this new anecdote, Pierre was summoned 
 to the governor-general. 
 
 Pierre went into Count Rostopchin's cabinet. Rostopchin, 
 scowling, was rubbing his forehead and eyes with his hand as 
 * Literally: " thinks that the devil is not his brother any more."
 
 .WAR AND PEACE. 317 
 
 Pierre entered. A short man was saying something, but as 
 Pierre approached he stopped and left the room. 
 
 " Well, how are you, mighty warrior ? " exclaimed Rostop- 
 chin, as soon as this man had gone. " We have heard about 
 your prouesses. But that is not to the point just now. Mon 
 cher, entre nous, you are a Mason ? " asked Count Rostopchin 
 in a stern tone, as though there were something wrong in that, 
 but that he was ready to grant his forgiveness. 
 
 Pierre made no reply. " Mon cher, je suis lien-informe, but 
 I know that there are Masons and Masons, and I hope that 
 you don't belong to that set who, under the appearance of 
 saving the human race, are doing their best to ruin Russia." 
 
 " Yes, I am a Mason," replied Pierre. 
 
 "Well, then, look here, my dear, I think that you are not 
 ignorant of the fact that Messrs. Speransky and Magnitsky 
 have been sent somewhere ; the same thing has happened to 
 Mr. Kliucharef, and the same thing has happened to others 
 besides, who, under the appearance of erecting Solomon's 
 temple, have been trying to overturn the temple of their 
 country. You can understand that there are reasons for this, 
 and that I could not have sent off the director of posts here 
 if he had not been a dangerous man. Now I am informed 
 that you provided him with a carriage to take him from the 
 city, and also that you received from him papers for safe- 
 keeping. I like you and I do not wish you ill, and, as I am 
 more than twice your age, I advise you as a father to cut 
 short all dealings with this sort of people, and to leave Mos- 
 cow as speedily as possible." 
 
 " But wherein, count, was Kliucharef to blame ? " asked 
 Pierre. 
 
 " That is my affair to know, and not yours to ask," cried 
 Eostopchin. 
 
 " He was accused of having circulated Napoleon's proclama- 
 tion, but it was not proved against him," said Pierre, not look- 
 ing at Rostopchin, " and Vereshchagin " 
 
 " Nous y voild, that is just the point," interrupted Rostop- 
 chin, scowling suddenly, and speaking much louder than before. 
 " Vereshchagin is a traitor and a renegade, who has received 
 the punishment which he richly deserves," said Rostopchin, 
 with that heat and ugliness characteristic of men at the recol- 
 lection of an insult. " But I did not summon you to criticise 
 my actions, but to give you some advice, or a command if you 
 prefer that term. I beg of you to forego your dealings with 
 such gentlemen as Kliucharef and to leave town. I'll knock
 
 318 WAR AND PEACE.. 
 
 the folly out of any one, no matter who it is ; " but, apparently 
 discovering that he was actually screaming at Bezukhoi, who 
 was not as yet in any respect to blame, he added in French, 
 cordially seizing Pierre's hand, " We are on the eve of a 
 public disaster, and I have no time to make civil speeches to 
 all who come to see me. My head is sometimes in a whirl. 
 Now then, my dear, what will you do you personally ? " 
 
 "Nothing at all," replied Pierre, not lifting his eyes and 
 not altering the expression of his thoughtful face. 
 
 The count frowned : " Take the advice of a friend, my dear. 
 Make off, and as soon as possible : that is all that I have 
 to say to you. Fortunate is he who has ears to hear. Good- 
 by, my dear.* Oh, here/' he shouted to him as he left the 
 room, " is it true that the countess has fallen into the paws of 
 the saints peres de la Societe de Jesus ? " 
 
 Pierre made no reply, and scowling, and angry as he had 
 never been seen before, he left Rostopchin's. 
 
 When he reached home it was already dark. Eight differ- 
 ent people came to see him that evening, the secretary of a 
 committee, the colonel of his battalion, his overseer, his major- 
 domo, and several petitioners. All had business with Pierre 
 which he was obliged to settle. Pierre could not understand 
 at all, he was not interested in such matters, and he gave only 
 such replies to all questions as would soonest rid him of these 
 people. 
 
 At last, when he was left alone, he broke the seal of his 
 wife's letter, and read it. 
 
 11 They the soldiers in the battery; Prince Andrei killed 
 the old man singleness is submission to God. Suffering 
 is necessary the significance of things must take apart and 
 analyze my wife is going to take another husband. One 
 must forget and learn." 
 
 And, going to his bed, he threw himself 'down without un- 
 dressing, and immediately fell asleep. 
 
 When he awoke the next morning, his major-domo came to 
 inform him that a police chinovnik had come with a special 
 message from Count Rostopchin to find whether Count Bezu- 
 khoi had gone or was going. 
 
 * " Nous sommes a la veille d'un desastre publique, etje n'ai pas le temps de 
 dire des gentillesses a tons ceux qiti out affaire a moi. Golovu inoydd krugom 
 idy6t. Eh bien, mon cher, qti'est ce qtie voits faites, voiis, personnelle- 
 ment ? " " Mais nen! " " Un conseil d'arni, mon cher. Decampez etaapla- 
 tdt, c'est tout ce que je vous dis. A bon entendeur salut. Proshchdite, moi 
 milui ! "
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 319 
 
 A dozen different people who had business with Pierre were 
 waiting for him in the drawing-room. Pierre made a hasty 
 toilet, but, instead of going down to those who were waiting 
 for him, he went down by the back steps and thence out 
 through the gates. 
 
 From that time forth until after the burning of Moscow, no 
 one of Bezukhoi's household, in spite of all their search for 
 him, saw anything more of Pierre or knew what had become 
 of him. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE Eostofs remained in the city up to the thirteenth of 
 September, the day before the enemy entered Moscow. 
 
 After Petya had joined Obolyensky's Cossack regiment, and 
 gone to Byelaya Tserkov, where this regiment was recruiting, 
 a great fear came upon the countess. The idea that both of 
 her sons had gone to the war, that both had left the shelter of 
 her wing, that to-day or to-morro*w either one of them, or per- 
 haps even both of them, might be killed, as had been the case 
 with the three sons of a friend of hers, for the first time now 
 this summer recurred with cruel vividness to her mind. 
 
 She endeavored to induce Nikolai to come home to her ; she 
 herself wanted to go to Petya, to send him to some place of 
 safety in Petersburg: but both schemes seemed impracticable. 
 Petya could not be recalled except his regiment were recalled, 
 or by means of having him transferred to some other working 
 regiment. Nikolai was off somewhere with the army, and 
 since his last letter, in which he described his meeting with 
 the Princess Mariya, nothing had been heard from him. 
 
 The countess could not sleep nights, and when she did catch 
 a little nap, she saw in her dreams her sons slain. 
 
 After many plans and discussions, the count at last found a 
 means of consoling" the countess's apprehensions. He trans- 
 ferred Petya from Obolyensky's regiment to Bezukhoi's, which 
 Was mobilizing near Moscow. Although Petya remafned in 
 the military service, still the countess by this transfer had the 
 consolation of seeing at least one of her sons, as it were, under 
 her wing, and she cherished the hope of arranging matters so 
 that he would not be sent away any more, and would always 
 be assigned to such places in the service that he would not be 
 exposed in battle. 
 
 As long as Nicolas alone was in danger, it seemed to the 
 countess -~- and it even caused her a pang of remorse that
 
 320 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 she loved her eldest more than her other children ; but when 
 her youngest, the mischievous, badly trained Petya, who was 
 forever breaking things in the house, who was always in 
 everybody's way, this snub-nosed Petya with his merry dark 
 eyes, his fresh, ruddy complexion, and the down just beginning 
 to cloud his cheeks, went off yonder, to mingle with terrible, 
 coarse, grown-up men, who were fighting, and finding a real 
 pleasure in doing such things, then it seemed to the mother 
 that she loved him more, far more than all of her children. 
 The nearer the time came for her rapturously awaited Petya 
 to return to Moscow, the more the countess's uneasiness in- 
 creased; she even began to imagine that she should never at- 
 tain that happiness. The presence not only of Sonya, but 
 even of her beloved Natasha, even her husband's presence, 
 irritated the countess. 
 
 " What do I care for them ? I want no one else but Petya," 
 she would say to herself. 
 
 Early in September, the Rostofs received a second letter 
 from. Nikolai. He wrote from the government of Voronezh, 
 where he had been sent after horses. This letter did not 
 soothe the countess's apprehensions. Now that she knew one 
 of her sons was out of danger, she began to worry all the more 
 about Petya. 
 
 Although almost all the Rostofs' acquaintances had left 
 Moscow, even as early as the first of September, although they 
 all tried to persuade the countess to start as soon as possible, 
 she would not hear to such a thing as going until her treasure, 
 her idolized Petya, should return. 
 
 Petya came on the ninth of September. The sixteen-year- 
 old officer was not pleased by the morbidly passionate affection 
 with which his mother welcomed him. Although she hid 
 from him her purpose not to let him fly again from under her 
 maternal wing, Petya fathomed her thoughts, and instinctively 
 fearing lest he should be too soft, and " a mamma's pet " (as 
 he himself expressed it), he went to the other extreme, treated 
 his mother coldly, avoided her, and during his stay in Moscow 
 exclusively devoted himself to Natasha, for whom he had 
 always cherished a peculiarly brotherly affection, almost as 
 chivalrous as a lover's. 
 
 When the ninth of September arrived, thanks to the count's 
 characteristic slackness, nothing was as yet ready for the 
 journey, and the carts which they expected from their estate 
 at Eiazan and their pod-Moskovnaya to convey from the city 
 all their movable property did not arrive until the twelfth.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 321 
 
 From the ninth until the twelfth of September, all Moscow 
 was in a stir and ferment of excitement. Each day there 
 poured past the Dorogomilovskaya barrier, and scattered 
 through the city, thousands of those who had been wounded 
 in the battle of Borodino, and thousands of teams, laden with 
 the inhabitants and their belongings, passed out through the 
 other barriers. 
 
 In spite -of Rostopchin's Afishki, or in direct consequence of 
 them, the strangest and most contradictory rumors were cur- 
 rent throughout the city. One said that no one would be per- 
 mitted to depart ; another, on the contrary, declared that the 
 ikons had been removed from the churches, and that all the 
 inhabitants were to be sent away, whether they would or not. 
 One said that there had been another battle since Borodino, in 
 which the French had been beaten ; another declared, to the 
 contrary, that the Russian army had been annihilated. One 
 said that the Moscow landsturm, together with the clergy, had 
 started for Tri Gorui ; another whispered that Avgustin had 
 been forbidden to go away, that traitors had been caught, that 
 the peasantry were in revolt and were attacking those who 
 started, and so on, and so on. 
 
 But these were merely rumors, and in substance both those 
 who fled and those who were left although this was even 
 before the council at Fili, when it was definitely decided to 
 abandon Moscow all felt, even though they did not express it, 
 that Moscow would assuredly be abandoned, and that they 
 must make all haste to pack up and save their effects. 
 
 There was a feeling that everything was about to go to 
 pieces, and that a sudden change was imminent, but up to the 
 thirteenth no change ensued. Just as a criminal, led out to 
 punishment, knows that he is about to be killed, but still 
 looks around and straightens his ill-fitting cap, so Moscow 
 involuntarily pursued its habitual life, although it knew that 
 the time of its destruction was at hand, when all the conven- 
 tional conditions of its existence would be suddenly snapped 
 short. 
 
 During those three days preceding the occupation of Moscow 
 by the French, all the Rostof family were absorbed in their 
 various worldly occupations. The chief of the family, Count 
 Ilya Andreyitch, was constantly flying about the city, picking 
 up on all sides the flying rumors, and while at home making 
 superficial and hasty arrangements for hastening their depar- 
 ture. 
 
 The countess superintended the packing of the things, but 
 VOL. 3. 21.
 
 322 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 she was in a sad state of dissatisfaction with, everybody, and 
 kept tagging after Petya, who avoided her, and she was 
 devoured by jealousy of Natasha, with whom he spent all his 
 time. 
 
 Sonya was the only one who looked after the practical side 
 of affairs : the packing of the things. But Sonya had been 
 peculiarly melancholy and silent of late. The letter in which 
 Nicolas had spoken of the Princess Mariya had caused the 
 countess to express in her presence the most joyful auguries : 
 she declared that in the interview of Nicolas and the Princess 
 Mariya she saw the very hand of God. 
 
 "I never felt happy at all," said the countess, "when 
 Bolkonsky was engaged to Natasha, but I always wished that 
 Nikolinka might marry the princess, and I had a presentiment 
 that it would turn out so. And how good that would be ! " 
 
 Sonya felt that this was true, that the only possibility 
 of retrieving the fortunes of the Ros'tofs was for Nikolai "to 
 make a rich marriage, ""and that the princess was an excellent 
 match. 
 
 But still it was a very bitter thing for her. In spite of her 
 grief, or possibly in consequence of it, she took upon her all 
 the difficult labor of arranging for packing up and stowing 
 away, and was busy from morning till night. 
 
 The count and countess addressed themselves to her when 
 they had any orders to give. 
 
 Petya and Natasha, on the other hand, not only did not help 
 their parents, but for the most part were a hinderance and a 
 burden to all in the house. And almost all day long the house 
 echoed with their footsteps dancing about, their shouts and 
 laughter. They laughed and enjoyed themselves, not because 
 there was any reason for laughter, but their hearts were full 
 of life and joy, and because everything that they heard seemed 
 to them a reason for laughter and gayety. 
 
 Petya was gay because, having left home a lad, he had 
 returned as every one told 'him a gallant young hero ; he 
 was gay because he was at home, because he had come from 
 Byelaya Tserkov where there had been not even a remote 
 prospect of taking part in a battle, and had come to Moscow, 
 where any day they might have fighting, and above all he was 
 gay because Natasha, to whose moods he always was very 
 susceptible, was gay also. 
 
 Natasha was gay because she had been melancholy quite 
 too long, and now nothing reminded her of the reason of her 
 previous melancholy, and she was well ! Moreover, she was
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 323 
 
 gay because there was a man who flattered her flattery was 
 the wheel-grease which was absolutely essential if her machin- 
 ery was to move with perfect freedom and Petya flattered 
 her. 
 
 Chiefly they were gay because the war had come to the 
 very gates of Moscow, because there was a possibility of 
 fighting at the barriers, because ,they were giving out guns, 
 because there were running about and departures this way and 
 that, because some great event was in the very air, and this 
 is always provocative of good spirits in men, especially in the 
 young. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 ON Saturday, the eleventh of September, everything in the 
 Eostofs' house seemed topsy-turvy. All the doors were open, 
 all the furniture was carried off or out of place ; mirrors and 
 paintings were taken down. The rooms were full of packing- 
 boxes and littered with -hay, wrapping-paper, and pieces of 
 twine. Muzhiks and household serfs trod over the parquetry 
 floors with heavy steps as they lugged the things. In the 
 dvor there was a throng of peasants' carts, some of which 
 were already loaded and corded up, and some still empty. 
 
 The voices and footsteps of the enormous retinue of ser- 
 vants and of the muzhiks who had come with the teams rang 
 through the house and the yard. 
 
 The count had been off since early moaning. The countess, 
 who had a headache as a consequence of all the bustle and 
 noise, was lying down in the new divan-room, her head wrapped 
 up in vinegar compresses. Petya was not at home ; he had 
 gone to see a comrade with whom he proposed to change from 
 the landsturm into the regular army. Sonya was busy in the 
 ballroom, packing up the glassware and china. 
 
 Natasha was sitting on the floor, in her own dismantled 
 room, amid a heap of dresses, laces, and ribbons, and holding 
 lifelessly in her hands an old ball-dress the very one how 
 out of style it was ! which she had worn to her first 
 Petersburg ball. Her conscience pricked her for doing noth- 
 ing while all the rest in the house were so busy, and several 
 times since morning she had tried to take hold and help, but 
 her heart was not in the work, and she could not and would 
 not do anything at all, unless she could do it with all her 
 heart, with all her might. 
 
 She had started to assist Sonya in packing the china, but
 
 324 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 soon dropped it and went to her own room, to dispose of her 
 own things. At first she found it very good fun to distribute 
 her dresses and ribbons among the maids ; but afterwards, when 
 what was left had to be really packed up, it began to bore her. 
 
 " Dunyasha, you will put them in for me, that's a darling ! * 
 won't you ? " 
 
 And when Dunyasha willingly agreed to do it all for her, 
 Natasha sat down on the floor, and picked up her old ball-dress, 
 and her thoughts turned in an entirely different channel from 
 what they should have done. She was aroused from the brown 
 study into which she had fallen by the chatter of the maids in 
 the adjoining room, and by the sounds of their hurried steps 
 as they ran from this room toward the rear of the house. 
 Natasha got up and looked out of the window. 
 
 An enormous train of wounded men had come to a halt in 
 the street. 
 
 The maids, the lackeys, the housekeeper, the old nyanya, 
 the cooks, the coachmen, the postilions, the scullions, all 
 were standing at the gates, gazing at the wounded. 
 
 Natasha, throwing a white handkerchief over her hair, and 
 holding the ends with both hands, ran down into the street. 
 
 The former housekeeper, the old Mavra Kuzminitchna, 
 broke through the crowd collected at the gates, and, going up 
 to a telyega shaded by a reed cover, entered into conversation 
 with a pale young officer, who was stretched out in it. Na- 
 tasha advanced a few steps, and stood timidly, still holding 
 her handkerchief, and listening to what the old " key- 
 woman " said. 
 
 " Well, I suppose you haven't any kith or kin in Moscow, 
 have you ? " asked Mavra Kuzminitchna. " You would be so 
 much more comfortable in a room somewhere. Here, for 
 instance, in our house. The folks are going off." 
 
 " I don't know as it would be permitted," replied the officer, 
 in . a feeble voice. " There's our nachalnik yonder you 
 see ? " and he indicated a stout major, who was walking back 
 along the street, past the line of telyegas. 
 
 Natasha, with startled eyes, looked into the wounded offi- 
 cer's face, and immediately went to meet the portly major. 
 
 " Can some of the wounded be taken into our house ? " she 
 demanded. 
 
 The major, with a smile, raised his hand to his visor. 
 
 " Which would you like, mamzel ? " he asked, squinting his 
 eyes, and smiling. 
 
 * Golubushka.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 325 
 
 Natasha calmly repeated her question, and her face and her 
 whole manner, although she still kept hold of the ends of her 
 handkerchief, were so serious, that the major ceased to smile, 
 and after first stopping to consider, as though he were asking 
 himself how far this were admissible, at last gave her an 
 affirmative answer. 
 
 " Oh, yes, certainly they can," said he. 
 
 Natasha bowed slightly, and returned, with swift steps, to 
 Mavra Kuzminitchna, who was still standing by the officer, 
 and talking with him with compassionate sympathy. 
 
 " They can, he said they could," whispered Natasha. 
 
 The covered telyega in which the officer was lying was 
 driven into the Rostofs' yard, and a dozen telyegas, with their 
 loads of wounded, by invitation of the inhabitants, were 
 taken in at different yards and driven up to the steps of the 
 houses on the Povarskaya Street. 
 
 Natasha was evidently pleased by having something to do 
 with new people, remote from the ordinary conditions of life. 
 She and Mavra Kuzminitchna made as many more of the 
 wounded come into the dvor as possible. 
 
 " Still, we must ask your papdsha," Mavra Kuzminitchna 
 said. 
 
 " Not at all, not at all ; what difference can it possibly 
 make ? Just for one night, we could sleep in the drawing- 
 room. We can let them have all our rooms." 
 
 " What queer notions you do have, baruishnya ! Even if 
 we gave them the wing and the unfinished rooms, we should 
 have to ask permission ! " 
 
 " Well, I will go and ask." 
 
 Natasha ran into the house, and on tiptoes passed through . 
 the half-open door of the divan-room, where there was a 
 strong scent of vinegar and Hoffmann's drops. 
 
 " Are you asleep, mamma ? " 
 
 " Oh ! how can I sleep ? " said the countess, waking from 
 a doze into which she had dropped. 
 
 " Mamma, darling," * said Natasha, kneeling before her and 
 leaning her cheek close to her mother's, " I am sorry ; forgive 
 me for waking you up, I will never do it any more. Mavra 
 Kuzminitchna sent me, some wounded men have been 
 brought here, some officers. Will you let them come 
 in ? They don't know where to take them ; I know you 
 will let them come," said she hurriedly, not regaining her 
 breath. 
 
 * Golubchik.
 
 826 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 "What officers? Who has been brought here? I don't 
 understand at all ! " said the countess. 
 
 Natasha began to laugh ; the countess responded with a 
 feeble smile. 
 
 " I knew that you would let them come well, then, I will 
 go and tell them," and Natasha, kissing her mother, jumped 
 up, and hurried off. 
 
 In the hall she met her father, who had come home with 
 bad tidings. 
 
 " Here we are still ! " cried the count, with involuntary 
 vexation. " The club is already closed, and the police are 
 going." 
 
 " Papa, it does not make any difference, does it ? I have 
 invited some wounded men to be brought in ? " asked 
 Natasha. 
 
 " Why, of course not," said the count distractedly. " But 
 that's not the trouble. I beg of you to have done with tri- 
 fling, and to help get packed up, so we can go, go, go to- 
 morrow." 
 
 And the count proceeded to give the major-domo and all 
 the servants the same order. 
 
 Petya came back to dinner, and communicated his budget 
 of news. 
 
 He told how that day the people had got arms at the 
 Kreml, that though Eostopchin had declared he would give 
 the alarm two days in advance, still there was no question 
 that he had ordered the whole populace to go out fully armed 
 the next day to Tri Gorui, and that there was going to be a 
 great battle there. 
 
 The countess, with timid dismay, looked at her son's bright, 
 excited face while he was saying this. She knew that if she 
 said a word that might be interpreted as asking Petya not to 
 go to that battle for she knew that his heart was full of 
 joy at the prospect of such a battle then he would have 
 something to say about men, about honor, about the father- 
 land something so absurd, so like a man, so contrary to all 
 reason against which there was no reply to be made, and 
 her hopes would be dashed and therefore trusting so to 
 arrange it as to attain her end, and take Petya with her, as 
 her defender and protector, she said nothing to him, but, 
 after dinner, called the count aside, and with tears besought 
 him to start as soon as possible, that very night if it were 
 possible. With the feminine, artless cunning of love, she who- 
 till then, had boasted of her absolute freedom from timidity,
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 327 
 
 declared that she should die of alarm, if she did not go that 
 very evening. 
 
 There was no pretence about it : she was really afraid of 
 everything. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 MADAME SCHOSS, who had been over to her daughter's, still 
 more enhanced the countess's fear by her account of what she 
 had seen in Miasnitskaya Street, at a spirit-store. As she 
 was returning along the street, her way home was blocked by 
 a throng of the drunken populace, who were surging around 
 the shop. 
 
 She took an izvoshchik and came home by a roundabout 
 route, and the izvoshchik had told her that the crowd had been 
 staving in the casks in the spirit-store, and that they had been 
 permitted to do so. 
 
 After dinner all the household of the Eostofs, in a perfect 
 transport of zeal, set themselves to the task of packing up the 
 effects and preparing for the departure. The old count, sud- 
 denly taking a hand in affairs, from dinner-time forth ceased 
 not to trot back and forth between the . dvor and the house, 
 incoherently shouting to the hurrying servants, and urging 
 them to still greater haste. Petya remained in the dvor, 
 giving orders there. Sonya knew not what to do under 
 the count's contradictory orders, and entirely lost her head. 
 The men, shouting, scolding, and making a fearful racket, 
 hastened through the rooms and bustled about in the court- 
 yard. 
 
 Natasha, with that zeal that was so characteristic of her, 
 suddenly also put her hand to the .work. At first her inter- 
 ference with the task of packing was resented. All that was 
 ever expected of her was quips, and now they were in no 
 mood for such things; but she was so earnest and eager in 
 claiming their submission to her will, she was so grave, and 
 came so near weeping because they would not listen to her, 
 that at last she won the victory and their confidence. 
 
 Her first achievement, which cost her enormous efforts and 
 gave her the power, was the packing of the rugs. The count 
 had in his house some precious Gobelins and Persian carpets. 
 When Natasha first put her hand to the work two great chests 
 stood open in the ballroom ; one was filled almost to the top with 
 china, the other with rugs. There was still a great quantity 
 of china standing about on the tables, and they were bringing
 
 328 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 still more from the storerooms. It was necessary to begin 
 still a third fresh packing-case, and some of the men had been 
 sent after one. 
 
 " Sonya, wait, we can get it all in as it is," said Natasha. 
 
 " Impossible, baruishnya ! it has been tried already," said 
 the butler. 
 
 "No, wait and see, please." And Natasha began rapidly to 
 take ont of the packing-case the plates and dishes that were 
 wrapped up in paper. 
 
 " The platters must be put in there with the rugs," said 
 she. 
 
 " But there are rugs enough as it is for all three of the 
 boxes ! " exclaimed the butler. 
 
 "Now wait, please." And Natasha began swiftly and 
 skilfully to unpack. "Those are not needed," said she of 
 some Kief-ware plates. " But those are to be put in with the 
 rugs," said she of some Dresden dishes. 
 
 " There, now, let it alone, Natasha ; there, that'll do, we'll 
 get it packed ! " exclaimed Sonya reproachfully. 
 
 " Ekh ! baruishnya ! " exclaimed the major-domo. But 
 Natasha would not yield ; she took out everything and pro- 
 ceeded rapidly to pack them up again, deciding that there was 
 no need at all of taking the cheap, ordinary carpets and the 
 superfluous tableware. 
 
 When everything was taken out they began to pack up 
 again. And in fact after everything of little value which it 
 was not worth while to take \\ ith them had been removed, all 
 that had any value could be put into the two packing-cases. 
 But it was found impossible to close the lid *of the box that 
 held the rugs. It could be done by taking out one or two 
 things, but Natasha was bound to have her; own way. She 
 arranged the things, and re-arranged them, pressed them down, 
 and compelled the butler and Petya, whom she called in to 
 help her pack, to sit on the cover, and she herself put forth 
 all her strength with the energy of despair. 
 
 "There, that's enough, Natasha," said Sonya; "I see you 
 are right, only take out the top one." 
 
 "I don't wish to," cried Natasha, with one hand pushing 
 back her.dishevelled locks from her sweaty face and pressing 
 down the rugs with the other. "Now press down, Petya, 
 push ! Yasilyitch, press down ! " cried she. The rugs gave 
 way and the cover was shut. 
 
 Natasha, clapping her hands, actually squealed with delight, 
 and the tears gushed from her eyes. But this lasted only a
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 329 
 
 second. She immediately applied herself to something else, 
 and by this time they had begun to repose the most implicit 
 confidence in her ; even the count was not indignant when he 
 was informed that Natalya Ilyinitchna had countermanded 
 some order of his, and the household serfs came to her to ask : 
 should they cord up the loads or not, or wasn't the team full 
 enough ? Thanks to Natasha's clever management great 
 progress was made in the work ; articles of little account were 
 left out, and the most precious things were packed in the most 
 practical form possible. 
 
 But in spite of the efforts of all the people the labor of 
 packing was not completed that night, though they worked 
 till late. The countess went to bed, and the count, deferring 
 the start till morning, also retired. 
 
 Sonya and Natasha, without disrobing, went to sleep in the 
 divan-room. 
 
 That night another wounded man had been brought through 
 the Povarskaya, and Mavra Kuzminitchna, who happened to be 
 standing down by the gates, had hini brought into the Rostof 
 house. This wounded man, according to Mavra Kuzminitchna, 
 was evidently a man of great distinction. He was carried in 
 a calash entirely covered with the apron and with the hood 
 let down. On the box with the driver sat a very dignified old 
 valet. The calash was followed by a team with the doctor and 
 two soldiers. 
 
 " Come into our house, come in. The folks are all going ; 
 the whole house will be deserted," said the old woman, address- 
 ing the aged servant. 
 
 " Well," said the valet, sighing, " we did not know where to 
 take him. We have our own house in Moscow, but it's far 
 off and no one in it." 
 
 " We beg it as a favor ; our folks have always a houseful, 
 so please come," said Mavra Kuzminitchna. " What ! is he 
 very bad ? " she added. 
 
 The valet spread open his hands. 
 
 " We did not know as we could get him here. I must ask 
 !the doctor." And the valet sprang down from the box and 
 < went to the other team. 
 
 " Very good," said the doctor. 
 
 The valet returned to the calash, looked into it, shook his 
 head, bade the driver turn into the dvor, and he himself 
 i remained standing by Mavra Kuzminitchna. 
 
 " Merciful Saviour ! " * she exclaimed. 
 
 * " GospodiJwise Khriste ,' " (Lor4 Jesus Christ! ),
 
 330 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 Mavra Kuzminitclina invited them to carry the wounded 
 man into the house. 
 
 " The folks won't say anything," she went on. But it was 
 necessary to avoid carrying him upstairs, and therefore the 
 wounded man was taken into the wing and placed in the 
 rooms formerly occupied by Madame Schoss. 
 
 The wounded officer was Prince Andrei Bolkonsky ! 
 
 CHAPTEE XV. 
 
 THE last day of Moscow dawned. 
 
 It "was bright, inspiriting autumn weather. It was a Sun- 
 day. Just as on ordinary Sundays, the bells on all the 
 churches rang for mass. It seemed as if even now no one 
 realized what was coming upon Moscow. 
 
 Only two indications of the crisis were visible in society, and 
 showed the position in which Moscow was placed : the rabble, 
 that is to say. the poorer classes, and the price for commodi- 
 ties. The factory operatives, household serfs, and muzhiks 
 in a portentous throng, wherein mixed and mingled chi- 
 novniks, seminarists, noblemen, had early that morning gone 
 out to Tri Gorui. Having reached there, they did not wait for 
 Eostopchin, but coming to the conclusion that Moscow was to 
 be abandoned, this mob scattered through Moscow, among the 
 spirit-stores, and traktirs or taverns. 
 
 Prices that day also indicated the posture of affairs. The 
 prices for weapons, for gold, for teams and horses, kept going 
 higher and higher, while the prices for paper money and for 
 city luxuries kept depreciating, so that by the middle of the 
 day there were instances of costly wares like cloth being car- 
 ried off by izvoshchiks for nothing, while as high as five hun- 
 dred rubles were paid for a muzhik's horse ; but furniture, 
 mirrors, and bronzes went begging. 
 
 In the dignified old house of the Eostofs', the overturn of 
 the former conditions of existence found very feeble expres- 
 sion. As far as the servants were concerned, it only hap- 
 pened that during the night three out of all the enormous reti- 
 nue ran away ; but nothing was stolen, and the prices of things 
 were well shown by the fact that the thirty teams brought from 
 the country represented an enormous fortune, which many men 
 coveted, and for which tremendous offers were made to the 
 Eostofs. 
 
 Although great sums of money were off. ered for these teams 3
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 83) 
 
 nevertheless, during the evening of the twelfth and on the 
 morning of the thirteenth of September, there was a constant 
 stream of denshchiks, and other servants, sent by wounded 
 officers, as well as the wounded men themselves who had been 
 accommodated at the Rostofs' and at neighboring houses, beg- 
 ging the Rostofs' servants to obtain for them these teams so 
 that they could escape from Moscow. 
 
 The major-domo, to whom these men applied with such 
 petitions, although he pitied the wounded, gave a decided re- 
 fusal, declaring that he should not dare to propose such a 
 thing to the count. However hard it was to leave the 
 wounded behind, it was self-evident that if one team were 
 given up, there would be no reason for refusing another, and 
 another, and finally all their teams and even their private 
 carriages. Thirty teams would not save all the wounded, and, 
 in the universal calamity, it was out of the question that each 
 person should not think of himself and his family first. Thus 
 the major-domo thought in behalf of his barin. 
 
 On waking up on the morning of the thirteenth, Count Ilya 
 Andreyitch softly left his chamber, so as not to arouse the 
 countess, who had only fallen asleep toward morning, and in 
 his lilac-colored silk dressing-gown went down to the front 
 steps. 
 
 The teams, ready loaded, stood in the yard. The travelling- 
 carriages were at the door. The major-domo was standing by 
 the entrance, conversing with an elderly denshchik, and a pale 
 young officer with his arm in a sling. The major-domo, see- 
 ing the count, made a stern and significant sign to the officer 
 land the man, that they should go. 
 
 " Well, is everything ready, Vasilyitch ? " asked the count, 
 Tubbing his bald spot, and looking good-naturedly at the 
 (officer and the denshchik, and nodding to them. The count 
 vas fond of new faces. 
 
 " Abotffc ready to hitch up, your illustriousness." 
 
 " Well, that is excellent ! But here, the countess will soon 
 awake, and then God speed us.* Well, sir ? " said he, 
 ;urning to the officer. " You will make yourself at home in 
 ny house, will you ? " 
 
 The officer drew nearer. His pale face suddenly flushed a 
 Brilliant crimson. 
 
 "Count, do me the favor, allow me for God's sake 
 et me creep into one of your wagons. I have no luggage 
 me here I would as soon go in the cart " The 
 * S Bogom.
 
 382 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 officer had not finished speaking, before the denshchik came 
 up to the count, to prefer the same request in behalf of his 
 gentleman. 
 
 " Oh, yes, yes, yes," cried the count, hastily. " I am very, 
 very glad. Vasilyitch, you make the arrangements ; have one 
 or two of the telyegas unloaded say that one yonder well 
 any one that seems most advisable" said the count, 
 couching his orders in vague phrases. 
 
 ]>ut at the same instant the eager expression of gratitude 
 on the officer's face confirmed him in his determination. The 
 count glanced around : the courtyard, the gates, the windows 
 of the wing, were all crowded with wounded men and their 
 attendants. The eyes of all were riveted on the count, and 
 they were coming toward the steps. 
 
 " Please, your illustriousness, come into the picture-gallery ; 
 what do you wish done in regard to the pictures ? " asked the 
 major-domo. 
 
 The count went with him into the house, at the same time 
 repeating his injunctions not to refuse any of the wounded 
 who begged to be taken. 
 
 " There, now, something can be unloaded," he added, in a 
 low, mysterious voice, as though he feared some one would 
 overhear him. 
 
 At nine o'clock, the countess awoke, and Matriona Timov- 
 yevna, her former lady's maid, who now exercised in the 
 countess's behalf the duties of chief of police,* came to inform 
 her old mistress that Maria Karlovla was greatly incensed, 
 and that it was an impossibility for the young ladies' summer 
 dresses to be left behind ! 
 
 When the countess made inquiries why Madame Schoss was 
 incensed, it appeared that her trunk had been taken from the 
 cart, and that they were unloading all of the teams, that they 
 were making ready to take on and carry away with them the 
 wounded whom the count, in his simple-hearted kindness, had 
 promised to rescue. 
 
 The countess had her husband summoned. 
 
 "What does this mean, my love ? I hear they are unload- 
 ing the things again." 
 
 "You see, ma ckere, I was going to tell you, ma chere 
 (jrafinyushka the officer came to me and begged me to 
 let them have a few of the teams for the wounded. Of course, 
 this is all worth a good deal, but how could we leave them 
 behind ? Just think ! It's a fact, they're in our yard we 
 * Shef zhendarmof.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 333 
 
 invited them in. You see, I think we really ought, ma 
 chere so now, ma ch&re let 'em go with us what is the 
 hurry, anyway ? " 
 
 The count spoke timidly, as was always his custom when 
 there was any money transaction on foot. The countess was 
 accustomed to this tone, which always preceded any project 
 that was going to eat up his children's fortunes, as for 
 instance the starting a picture gallery, new orangeries, the 
 arrangement of private theatrical performances, or music; 
 and she was accustomed, and had long considered it her duty, 
 to oppose anything that was suggested in this tone of voice. 
 
 She put on a set, tearful face, and said to her husband : 
 
 "Listen, count; you have brought things to such a pass 
 that we aren't worth anything, and now all our property 
 our children 7 s all that's left you want to make way with. 
 Why, you yourself said that what was in the house was worth 
 a hundred thousand ! I will not consent, my love, I will not 
 consent ! Do as you please ! It's for the government to look 
 after the wounded. They know it. Look across the street 
 there at the Lopukhins' ; everything was carried off clean 
 three days ago. That's the way men do ! 'We alone are 
 idiots ! If you don't have any pity on me, at least remember 
 your children ! " 
 
 The count made a gesture with his hands, and, saying 
 nothing further, left the room. 
 
 "Papa! what is the matter ? " asked Natasha, who had fol- 
 lowed him to her mother's room. 
 
 " Nothing ! none of your concern ! " replied the count testily. 
 
 "No, but I heard what you were saying," said Natasha. 
 " Why isn't mamenka willing ? " 
 
 " What business is it of yours ? " screamed the count. 
 
 Natasha went to the window and pondered. "Papenka! 
 Berg has come ! " said she, looking out of the window. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 BERG, the count's son-in-law, was now a colonel, wearing the 
 Vladimir and the Anna around his neck, and occupied in the 
 same pleasant and sinecure post, as assistant to the chief of 
 the staff of the assistant chief of staff of the first division of 
 the second corps. 
 
 On the thirteenth of September he drove in to Moscow from 
 the army.
 
 334 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 There was nothing to call him to Moscow, but he had 
 observed that all were asking leave of absence to go to Mos- 
 cow, and seemed to have private business there. He consid- 
 ered it essential for him also to go and inquire after his wife's 
 family and affairs. 
 
 Berg drove up to his father-in-law's house in his elegant 
 little drozhsky drawn, by a pair of plump roans, exactly like 
 those belonging to a certain prince. He gave a keen look at 
 the teams drawn up in the yard ; and as he came to the steps, 
 he took out a clean handkerchief and tied a knot in it. 
 
 Berg passed from the anteroom into the drawing-room with 
 slow, dignified steps, and embraced the count, and kissed 
 Natasha's hand, and Sonya's, and made haste to inquire after 
 his mamasha's health. 
 
 " Who thinks about health nowadays ? Tell us," said the 
 count, " tell us about the army. Will they retire or will there 
 be another battle ? " 
 
 " The Everlasting God, papasha," said Berg, " can alone decide 
 the fate of the fatherland. The army is afire with the spirit 
 of heroism, and even now the leaders, so to speak, are collected 
 in council. What will be is not known. But I can tell you 
 in general, papasha, the heroic spirit, the truly antique valor 
 of the Kussian troops, which they I mean it " he cor- 
 rected himself " showed, or rather displayed, in that battle 
 
 of the seventh instant, words are not sufficient to describe. 
 
 I tell you, papasha " here he gave himself a slap on the 
 chest, just as he had seen a general do in telling this story, 
 though he was rather late in bringing it in effectively, because 
 he should have given himself the slap on the chest at the 
 words Russian troops "I will tell you frankly that we 
 the nachalniks not only were not obliged to urge on the sol- 
 diers or do anything of the sort, but, rather, we found it hard 
 work to restrain their ardor their, their yes, their gallant 
 and antique onslaughts," said he eloquently. " General Bar- 
 clay de Tolly exposed his life everywhere in front of the 
 troops, I tell you ! Our corps was posted on the slope of a 
 hill. You can imagine ! " And here Berg related all that he 
 remembered of the various reports that he had heard at that 
 time. 
 
 Natasha did not take her eyes from him, which confused 
 Berg, for she seemed to be searching his face for the answer 
 to some question. 
 
 " Such heroism as was displayed by the Kussian troops in 
 general, it is impossible to imagine or to praise sufiiciently/ 7
 
 WAR AND PEACE. . 335 
 
 said Berg, glancing at Natasha, and smiling in answer to her 
 fixed look, as though anxious to win her good graces. "Rus- 
 sia is not in Moscow, she is in the hearts of her sons. Isn't 
 that so, papasha ? " asked Berg. 
 
 At this moment the countess came out from the divan-room 
 with a weary and dissatisfied face. Berg sprang up, kissed 
 her hand, inquired after her health, and, expressing his 
 sympathy by a shake of the head, remained standing by her 
 side. 
 
 "Yes, mamasha, I will tell you frankly these are melan- 
 choly, trying times for every Russian. But why be so dis- 
 turbed ? There is still time for you to get away safely " 
 
 " I don't understand what the servants are up to," said the 
 countess, addressing her husband. " I have just been told that 
 not a thing is ready yet. You see how necessary it is for 
 some one to take full charge. Now here we really miss 
 Mitenka. There will never be any end to it ! " 
 
 The count was about to make some reply, but evidently 
 restrained himself. He got up from his chair and went to the 
 door. 
 
 Berg just then took out his handkerchief as though to blow 
 his nose, and, catching sight of the knot that he had tied, grew 
 thoughtful and shook his head in a melancholy and significant 
 manner. 
 
 "I have a great favor to ask of yon, papasha," said he. 
 
 " Hm ? " returned the count, stopping short. 
 
 "I was just passing Yusupof's," said Berg with a laugh. 
 " The overseer, who is an acquaintance of mine, came running 
 out, and urged me to buy something. I went in just out of 
 curiosity, and there I found a pretty little chiffonier* and 
 toilet. You know how Vierushka has always wanted one, and 
 how we have actually quarrelled over it." Berg involuntarily 
 took a tone of self-congratulation over his comfortable little 
 establishment, as he began to speak about the chiffonier and 
 the toilet. " And it is such a beauty ! It is full of drawers, 
 and has an English secret panel, don't you know ! And Vie- 
 rotchka had wanted one so long ! And so I wanted to sur- 
 prise her. I saw you had so many of these muzhiks in the 
 yard. Let me have one, please. I will pay him handsomely 
 and " 
 
 A frown passed over the count's face, and he began to 
 clear his throat. "Ask the countess; I am not giving the 
 directions," 
 
 * Shifonytrotchka.
 
 336 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 "If it is inconvenient, no matter about it," said Berg. 
 " Only I wanted it very much for Vierushka's sake." 
 
 "Akh! go to the devil all of you, to the devil, to the 
 devil, and to the devil ! " cried the old count. " My head is 
 in a whirl ! " And he flew out of the room. 
 
 The countess burst into tears. 
 
 " Yes, indeed, mamenka, it is a very trying time ! " said 
 Berg. 
 
 Natasha followed her father out of the room, and at first 
 started to go to him ; but then, seeming to collect her 
 thoughts, she hastened downstairs. 
 
 Petya was standing 011 the steps, busy providing with arms 
 the men who were to escort the family from Moscow. In the 
 dvor the teams still stood corded up. Two of them had been 
 unloaded, and in one the young officer had already taken his 
 place, assisted by his denshchik. 
 
 " Do you know what the trouble was ? " asked Petya of 
 Natasha. Natasha understood that Petya referred to the 
 dispute between their father and mother. She made no 
 reply. 
 
 "Because papenka wanted to give up all the teams to 
 the wounded ! " said Petya. " Vasilyitch told me. In my 
 opinion " 
 
 "In my opinion," suddenly interrupted Natasha, almost 
 screaming, and turning her wrathful face full upon Petya 
 "in my opinion, this is so mean, so shameful, so so I 
 can't express it ! Are we miserable Germans ? " 
 
 Her throat swelled with convulsive sobs, and, fearing lest 
 she should break doAvn and waste the ammunition of her 
 wrath, she turned on her heel and flew impetuously upstairs. 
 
 Berg was sitting down near the countess, and trying, like a 
 dutiful son, to console her. The count, with his pipe in his 
 hand, was striding up and down, when Natasha, her face dis- 
 torted with indignation, dashed into the room, and hurried to 
 her mother with rapid steps. 
 
 " This is shameful ! This is abominable ! " she cried. " It 
 cannot be that you have given such an order." 
 
 Berg and the countess looked at her in fear and bewilder- 
 ment. The count paused by the window, and listened. 
 
 " Mamenka, it must not be ! see what they are doing in the 
 yard ! " she cried. " They are to be left ! " 
 
 " What is the matter ? Who are to be left ? What do you 
 want ? " 
 
 "The wounded men, that's who ! It must not be, mamenka !
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 337 
 
 This is not like you at all ! No, mamenka, dearest little 
 dove ! * Mamenka ! what do we want of all those things that 
 we were going to take away ? only look out into the yard ! 
 Mamenka ! This must not, cannot be." 
 
 The count still stood by the w;ndow without turning his 
 face away, as he listened to Natasha's words. 
 
 Suddenly he blew his nose, and leaned over toward the 
 window. 
 
 The countess gazed at her daughter, saw her face tinged 
 with shame for her mother's sake, saw her agitation, under- 
 stood now why it was her husband would not look at her, and 
 then glanced around her with a troubled face. 
 
 "Akh ! you may do as you please. Am I interfering with 
 any one ? " she exclaimed, not willing even yet to give in 
 suddenly. 
 
 " Mamenka, dear little dove, forgive me !" 
 
 But the countess pushed her daughter away, and went over 
 to the count. 
 
 " Mon cher, you give what orders are necessary. You see, I 
 know nothing about this at all ! " said she, guiltily dropping 
 her eyes. 
 
 "The. eggs the eggs are teaching the old hen," exclaimed 
 the count through his happy tears, and he embraced his wife, 
 who was glad to hide her face crimson with shame against his 
 heart. 
 
 " Papenka, mamenka ! Shall I give the orders ? May I ? " 
 asked Natasha. " We will still take all that we really need," 
 said Natasha. 
 
 The count nodded assent, and Natasha, with the same swift 
 steps with which she would run when she used to play gor- 
 yelki or tag, flew across the room into the anteroom, and 
 downstairs into the courtyard. 
 
 The men gathered around Natasha, and they would not put 
 any faith in the strange command which she gave them, until 
 the old count himself came down, and, in the name of his wife, 
 ordered them to give up all the wagons to the wounded, and 
 to carry the boxes and trunks back to the storerooms. 
 
 After they had comprehended the meaning of the order, 
 the men with joyful eagerness, addressed themselves to the 
 new task. This did not any longer seem strange to the me- 
 nials, but, on the contrary, it seemed to them that it could not 
 be ordered otherwise ; just the same as, a quarter of an hour 
 before, it did not seem strange to any one that the wounded 
 
 * Golubushka. 
 VOL. 3. 22.
 
 338 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 men were to be left and the things carried away, but seemed 
 to them that it could not be ordered otherwise. All the house- 
 hold, as though grieved because they had not got at this work 
 more expeditiously, took hold of it with a will, and made 
 place for the wounded. The wounded men dragged them- 
 selves down from their rooms, and their pale faces lighted up 
 with joy as they gathered around the teams. 
 
 The rumor spread to the adjoining houses that the teams 
 were going to start from the llostofs', and still more of the 
 wounded came crowding, into the llostofs ' yard from the other 
 houses. 
 
 Many of the wounded begged them not to remove all the 
 things, but simply to let them sit on top. But the work of 
 unloading having once begun, it could not stop. It was a mat- 
 ter of indifference whether all the things were left or only 
 half of them. The* courtyard was littered up with the unladen 
 chests and boxes full of china, bronzes, paintings, mirrors, 
 which had been so carefully packed up the night before, and 
 still the work went on of taking off this thing and that, and 
 giving up one team after another. 
 
 "We can take four more," said the overseer. "Here, I 
 will give up my team ! but then, what should I do with 
 them ? " 
 
 "Well, give them the one that has my trunks," said the 
 countess ; " Dunyasha can sit with me in the carriage." 
 
 So they gave up also the wardrobe wagon,* and let the 
 wounded from two neighboring houses have the use of it. All 
 the household and the servants were full of happy excite- 
 ment. Natasha had .risen to a state of enthusiastically 
 happy emotion such as she had not experienced for a long 
 time. 
 
 " How shall we tie this on ? " asked some of the men, who 
 were trying to fasten a chest on the narrow foot-board of one 
 of the carriages. " We ought to give up a whole team to it ! " 
 
 " What does it contain ? " asked Natasha. 
 
 " The count's books." 
 
 " Leave it, Vasilyitch will take care of it. We don't need 
 them." 
 
 The britchka was full; there was some question where 
 Piotr Ilyitch was to go. 
 
 " He can sit on the coachman's box. Get up there on the 
 box ! " cried Natasha. 
 
 Sony a was also indefatigably at work ; but the object of her 
 * Garderobnaya povozka.
 
 -WAR AND PEACE. 339 
 
 labors was diametrically opposed to the object of Natasha's. 
 She was looking out for the things which had to be left 
 behind, labelling them by the countess's desire, and doing her 
 best to have as much taken as could be. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 BY two o'clock, the four equipages of the Rostofs, loaded 
 and packed, stood at the door. The teams with the wounded, 
 one after the other, filed out of the gate. The calash in which 
 Prince Andrei was carried passed in front of the entrance, 
 and attracted the attention of Sonya, who was engaged with 
 the maid in trying to arrange a comfortable seat for the coun- 
 tess in her huge, lofty coach, that stood at the door. 
 
 " Whose calash is that ? " asked Sonya, putting her head 
 out of the carriage window. 
 
 " Why, don't you know, baruishnya ? " replied the maid. 
 " It's the wounded prince ; he spent the night at our house, 
 and is also going with us." 
 
 " But who is he ? What is his name ? " 
 
 " It's our former lover ! Prince Bolkonsky ! " replied the 
 lady's maid, with a sigh. " They say he's going to die." 
 
 Sonya sprang out of the carriage and hastened to the coun- 
 tess. The countess, already dressed for the journey, in 
 shawl and hat, was weariedly walking up and down through 
 the drawing-room, waiting for the household to assemble so as 
 to sit down, with closed doors, and have prayers read before 
 setting forth on the journey. Natasha was not in the room. 
 
 " Maman ! " exclaimed Sonya, " Prince Andrei is here ! 
 wounded and dying. He is going with us ! " 
 
 The countess opened her eyes wide with terror, and, seizing 
 Sonya's arm, looked around. 
 
 " Natasha ! " she exclaimed. 
 
 Both for Sonya and for the countess this news had at the 
 first moment only one significance. They knew their Natasha, 
 and the horror at the thought how this news would affect her 
 croAvded out all sympathy for the man whom they both loved. 
 
 "Natasha does not know it yet; but he is going in our 
 party," said Sonya. 
 
 " Did you say he was dying ? " 
 
 Sonya bent her head. 
 
 The countess threw her arms around Sonya and burst into 
 tears.
 
 340 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 " The ways of the Lord are past finding out ! " she said to 
 herself, with the consciousness that in everything that was 
 then taking place an All-powerful Hand was in control of 
 what had been concealed from the eyes of men. 
 
 " Well, mamma, all is ready. What is the matter with 
 you ? " asked Natasha, suddenly coming into the room with 
 flushed and eager face. 
 
 " Nothing," said the countess. " If we are ready, then let 
 us be off." 
 
 And the countess bent over to her reticule, in order to hide 
 her disturbed face. Sonya hugged Natasha and kissed her. 
 
 " What is the matter ? What has happened ? " 
 
 "Nothing noth" 
 
 " Something wrong, and about me ? What is it ? " asked 
 the sensitive Natasha. 
 
 Sonya sighed, and made no reply. 
 
 The count, Petya, Madame Schoss, Mavra Kuzminitchna, and 
 Vasilyitch, came into the room, and, shutting the door, all sat 
 down, and remained for some seconds in silence* not exchan- 
 ging glances. 
 
 The count was the first to rise, and, drawing a loud sigh, 
 he began to cross himself toward the holy pictures. All did 
 likewise. Then the count began to embrace Mavra Kuzmi- 
 nitchna and Vasilyitch, who were to be left in Moscow, and 
 while they fondled his hand and kissed him on the shoulder, 
 he lightly patted them on the back, muttering some vague, af- 
 fectionately consoling phrases. 
 
 The countess went to the oratory, and Sonya found her 
 there on her knees in front of the " images," which were left 
 here and there on the wall. The most precious images, as 
 family heirlooms, had been taken down and carried off. 
 
 On the stairs and in the yard, the men who were to accom- 
 pany the teams, furnished with daggers and sabres, delivered 
 out to them by Petya, and with their trousers tucked into 
 their boots, and their coats tightly girt around them with gir- 
 dles and belts, were exchanging farewells with those who were 
 to stay behind. 
 
 As always happens at starting -on a journey, many things 
 were forgotten or not properly packed ; and the two haiduks 
 had been long standing on either side of the open door, by the 
 carriage steps, ready to help the countess in, while the maids 
 were bustling about with cushions and parcels to stow away 
 in the coaches and the calash and the britchka. 
 
 " They are forever and forever forgetting something ! " ex-
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 341 
 
 claimed the countess. " Now see here. You know I can't sit 
 that way." And Dunyasha, setting her teeth together, and 
 making no reply, though an expression of indignation con- 
 tracted her face, flew into the carriage to re-arrange the cush- 
 ions. 
 
 " Akh ! what a set of people ! " exclaimed the count, shak- 
 ing his head. 
 
 The old coa'chman, Yefim, with whom alone the countess 
 would consent to travel, sitting high on his box, did not even 
 deign to glance around at what was going on behind him. He 
 knew, by thirty years' experience, that it would be still some 
 time before they said to him their '- S Boyom Let us be off" 
 and that, even after the order to start was given, he would 
 still be stopped two or three times, while they sent back for 
 things forgotten; and that even then he would be stopped 
 again, and the countess herself would thrust her head out of 
 the window, and ask him in the name of Christ the Lord 
 Khristom Bogom to drive more cautiously down the slopes. 
 He knew this, and therefore, with even greater patience than 
 his horses, especially more than the off chestnut, Sokol,* 
 which stood pawing with his hoofs, and champing his bit, 
 he waited for what should be. 
 
 At last all were in their places ; the steps were done up, 
 the door shut with a bang, a forgotten box sent for, the coun- 
 tess put her head out and made the stereotyped remark. 
 Then Yefim deliberately removed his hat from his head, and 
 proceeded to cross himself. The postilion and all the people 
 did the same. " S Bof/om God with us," cried Yerhn, as 
 he put on his cap. " Off we go ! " 
 
 The postilion cracked his whip. The near pole-horse 
 strained on the collar, the lofty springs creaked, and the great 
 coach swayed. As it started, the footman leaped upon the 
 box. The carriage went jolting along as it rumbled out from 
 the dvor upon the uneven pavement ; the other vehicles also 
 followed jolting along, and the procession turned up the 
 street. All in the carriages, the calash, and the britchka 
 crossed themselves as they passed the church opposite. The 
 servants remaining in Moscow followed on both sides of the 
 street, escorting them. 
 
 Natasha had rarely known such a feeling of keen delight as 
 she experienced now, sitting in the coach, next the countess, 
 and gazing out at the walls of abandoned, excited Moscow 
 slowly moving past. She from time to time put her head 
 
 * Hawk.
 
 342 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 out of the window and gazed forward and back at the long 
 string of wagons containing the wounded accompanying them. 
 Almost at the very front of the line she could see Prince 
 Andrei's covered calash. She did not know who was in it, 
 and yet every time when she surveyed their train her eyes 
 turned instinctively to this calash. She knew that it was at 
 the front. 
 
 A number of carriage-trains like the Eostofs' had turned 
 out into Kudrina Street, from Nikitskaya, from Priesen, from 
 Podnovinsky, and when they reached the Sadovaya there 
 were already a double row of vehicles and trains moving 
 along. 
 
 As they passed the Sukharef tower, Natasha, glancing with 
 curiosity at the throng of people coming and going, suddenly 
 uttered an exclamation expressive of delight and amazement. 
 
 " Ye saints ! * Mamma! Sonya! look, there he is 1 ! " 
 
 "Who? who?" 
 
 "Look! for pity's sake,f Bezukhoi ! " exclaimed Natasha, 
 putting her head out of the carriage window, and staring at a 
 tall, stout man in a coachman's kaftan evidently a gentle- 
 man in disguise, to judge by his gait and carriage who was 
 walking along with a sallow, beardless little old man in a 
 frieze cloak under the arch of the Sukharef tower. 
 
 "Indeed,! it's Bezukhoi, in the kaftan, walking with a little 
 old man ! Indeed it is ! " exclaimed Natasha. " Look ! look ! " 
 
 " Why, no ! It can't be. How can you say such absurd 
 things ! " 
 
 " Mamma ! " cried Natasha, " I'll wager my head that it is he. 
 I assure you it is. Stop ! stop ! " she cried to the coachman. 
 But the coachman could not stop, because a whole file of 
 wagons and .vehicles came in from Meshchanskaya Street, and 
 shouted to the Rostofs to drive on and not delay the others. 
 
 But, although he was now at a much greater distance from 
 them all, the Eostofs now recognized Pierre, or the man in 
 the coachman's kaftan that looked like Pierre, pacing along 
 the street with dejected head and solemn face, side by side 
 with the little beardless man who had the appearance of a 
 footman. This little old man remarked the face thrust forth 
 from the carriage-window, and trying to attract their atten- 
 tion, and he respectfully nudged Pierre's elbow, and said 
 something to him, pointing to the carriage. 
 
 It was some time before Pierre realized what he said, he 
 seemed to be so deeply sunken in thought. At last, when his 
 * Bdtiushki. f Yei Bogu.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 343 
 
 attention was roused, he looked in the indicated direction, 
 and, recognizing Natasha, gave himself up for a second to the 
 first impression and ran nimbly over to the carriage. 
 
 But, after taking a dozen steps, some thought, apparently, 
 struck him, and he paused. 
 
 Natasha put her head out of the window and beamed with 
 mischievous affectioiiateness. 
 
 " Piotr Kiriluitch, come here ! You see, we recognized you. 
 This is marvellous ! " she cried, giving him her hand. " What 
 does this mean ? Why are you so ? " 
 
 Pierre took the proffered hand, and, as he walked along, 
 for the carriage was still moving, he awkwardly kissed it. 
 
 " What is the matter with you, count ? " asked the coun- 
 tess, in a voice expressing amazement and sympathy. 
 
 "I I Why ? don't ask me," said Pierre, and he 
 glanced at Natasha, whose eyes, beaming with delight, he 
 felt them even though he did not look into them, over- 
 whelmed him with their charm. 
 
 " What are you going to do ? stay behind in Moscow ? " 
 
 Pierre made no reply. 
 
 " In Moscow ? " he repeated, questioningly. " Yes, in Mos- 
 cow. Good-by." 
 
 " Akh ! I wish I were a man, I would certainly stay behind 
 with you. Akh ! how nice that would be ! " exclaimed Na- 
 tasha. " Mamma, if you will let me, I will stay." Pierre gave 
 Natasha an absent look, and was about to say something, but 
 the countess interrupted him. 
 
 " We heard you were in the battle." 
 
 " Yes, I was," replied Pierre. " To-morrow, there is to be 
 another battle" he began to say, but Natasha interrupted 
 him. 
 
 "What is the matter with you, count? You aren't like 
 yourself" 
 
 " Akh ! don't, don't ask me, don't ask me, T myself don't 
 know. To-morrow, but no ! Good-by, good-by," he went 
 on. " Terrible times ! " and, moving away from the carriage, 
 he passed along on the sidewalk. 
 
 Natasha for a long while still kept her head out of the 
 window, beaming upon him with an affectionate and some- 
 what mischievous smile of joy.
 
 344 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. V ' 
 
 PIERRE, during the two days since his disappearance from 
 home, had been living in the deserted rooms of the late Baz- 
 deyef. 
 
 This was how it happened. 
 
 On waking up the morning after his return to Moscow and 
 his interview with Count Rostopchin, it was a long time before 
 Pierre could realize where he was and what was required of 
 him. When he was informed that among those who were 
 waiting to see him in his reception-room there was the 
 Frenchman who had brought him the letter from the Coun- 
 tess Elena Vasilyevna, there suddenly came over him that 
 feeling of embarrassment and hopelessness to which he was 
 peculiarly prone. 
 
 It all at once came over him that everything was now at an 
 end, that ruin and destruction were at hand, that there was no 
 distinction between right and wrong, that there was no future, 
 and that there was no escape from all this coil of troubles. 
 With an unnatural smile on his lips, and muttering unintelli- 
 gible words, he first sat down a while on his sofa, then he got 
 up, went to the door and looked through the crack into the 
 reception-room, then, making a fierce gesture, he tiptoed back 
 and took up a book. The major-domo came for the second 
 time to tell Pierre that the Frenchman who had brought the 
 letter from the countess was very anxious to see him "'if only 
 for a little minute, and that a messenger had come from I. A. 
 Bazdeyef s widow to ask him to come for the books, since Mrs. 
 Bazdeyeva had herself gone to the country. 
 
 " Oh, yes, immediately wait or no, no, go and say 
 that I will come immediately," said Pierre to the major-domo. 
 
 But, as soon as the major-domo had gone, Pierre took his 
 hat, which lay on the table, and left his cabinet by the rear 
 door. There was no one in the corridor. Pierre passed along 
 the whole length of the corridor to the stairs, and, scowling 
 and clasping his head in both hands, he went down to the first 
 landing. The Swiss was standing at the front door. From 
 the landing which Pierre had reached, another flight of stairs 
 led to the rear entrance. Pierre went down this and came 
 out into the yard. No one had seen him. But 011 the street, 
 as soon as he left the gates, the coachmen waiting with their 
 equipages, and the dvornik, or yardtender, saw the count, and
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 345 
 
 took off their hats to him. Conscious of their glances fastened 
 upon him, Pierre acted like an ostrich which hides its head in 
 the sand so as not to be seen; he dropped his head, and, 
 hastening his steps, ran out into the street. 
 
 Of all the business which faced Pierre that morning, the 
 business of assorting losiph Alekseyevitch's books and papers 
 seemed to him most needful. 
 
 He took the first izvoshchik that happened to come along, 
 and ordered him to drive to the Patriarch's Pools,* where the 
 widow Bazdeyeva lived. As he kept glancing about on all the 
 caravans of people, making haste to escape from Moscow, and 
 balanced his obese frame so as not to be tipped out of the ram- 
 shackly old drozhsky, Pierre experienced the same sort of 
 reckless enjoyment felt by a truant boy. He entered into 
 conversation with the driver. 
 
 The izvoshchik informed him that arms had been that day 
 distributed to the populace in the Kreml, and that on the 
 morrow they were all going out to the Tri Gorui barrier, and 
 that a great battle would take place there. 
 
 On reaching the Patriarch's Pools, Pierre had to make some 
 little search for Bazdeyef's house, as he had not been there 
 for some time. He approached the wicket door. Gerasim, 
 the same sallow, beardless little old man whom Pierre had 
 seen five years before at Torzhok, with losiph Alekseyevitch, 
 came out at his knock. 
 
 " At home ? " asked Pierre. 
 
 " Owing to present circumstances, Sofya Danilovna and her 
 children went yesterday to their Torzhok country seat, your 
 illustriousness." 
 
 " Nevertheless I will come in ; I must assort the books," 
 said Pierre. 
 
 "Do, I beg of you; the brother of the late lamented 
 the kingdom of heaven be his ! Makar Alekseyevitch is 
 left here, as you will deign to know he is very feeble," said 
 the old servitor. 
 
 Makar Alekseyevitch was, as Pierre well knew, losiph Alek- 
 seyevitch's half-witted brother, who was addicted to drink. 
 
 " Ye*s, yes, I know. Come on, come," said Pierre, and he 
 entered the house. 
 
 A tall, bald, red-nosed old man, in a dressing-gown, and with 
 galoches on his bare feet, was standing in the reception-room. 
 When he saw Pierre, he testily muttered something, and 
 shuffled off into the corridor. 
 
 * Patriarshiye Prudui.
 
 346 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 " He once had great intellect, but now, as you will deign to 
 observe, he has weakened," said Gerasim. " Would you like 
 to go into the library ? " 
 
 Pierre nodded assent. 
 
 " The library remains just as it had been left, with seals on 
 everything. Sofya Danilovna gave orders that if you sent 
 any one they were to have the books." 
 
 Pierre went into the same gloomy cabinet into which, during 
 the Benefactor's life, he had gone with such trepidation. It 
 was now dusty, and had not been touched since losiph Alek- 
 seyevitch's death : it was gloomier than ever. 
 
 Gerasim opened one of the shutters, and left the room on 
 his tiptoes. Pierre crossed the floor, went to one of the book- 
 cases in which MSS. were kept, and took out one of the most 
 important of the documents of the order at that time. These 
 were some of the original acts of the Scotch branch, with ob- 
 servations and explanations in the hand of the Benefactor. 
 
 He took a seat at the dust-encumbered writing-table, and 
 spread the manuscripts in front of him, opened them, then 
 shut them, folded them up, and, finally, pushing them away, 
 rested his head on his hands and fell into deep thought. 
 
 Several times Gerasim cautiously came and looked into the 
 library, and found Pierre still in the same attitude. Thus 
 passed more than two hours. Gerasim permitted himself to 
 make a little stir at the door so as to attract his attention ; 
 Pierre heard him not. 
 
 " Do you wish me to send away the driver ? " 
 
 " Akh ! yes," said Pierre, starting from his reverie and 
 hastily jumping to his feet. " Listen," he added, taking 
 Gerasim by his coat-button, and looking down upon the little 
 old man with glittering, humid eyes, full of enthusiasm 
 "Listen, do you know that to-morrow there is to be a battle ? " 
 
 u They say so," replied Gerasim. 
 
 " I beg of you not to tell any one who I am. And do what 
 I tell you " 
 
 " I will obey," replied Gerasim. " Do you wish something 
 
 to eat ? " 
 
 " No, but I want something else. I want a peasant s dress 
 and a pistol," said Pierre, unexpectedly reddening.' 
 
 " I will obey," said Gerasim, after thinking a moment. 
 
 All the rest of this day Pierre spent alone in the Benefac- 
 tor's library, restlessly pacing from one corner of the room to 
 the other, as Gerasim could hear, and sometimes talking to him- 
 self, and he spent the night in a bed wade ready for Jiim there.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 347 
 
 Gerasim, with the equanimity of a servant who has seen 
 many strange things in his day, accepted Pierre's residence 
 without amazement, and seemed well satisfied to have some 
 one to wait upon. That same evening, without even asking 
 himself what was the reason therefor, he procured for Pierre a 
 kaftan and hat, and promised on the following day to get the 
 pistol that he wished. 
 
 Makar Alekseyevitch, twice that afternoon, shuffling along 
 in his galoches, came to his door and halted, looking inquisi- 
 tively at Pierre. But as soon as Pierre turned round to him 
 he wrapped his dressing-gown around him with a look of in- 
 jured annoyance, and hastily made off. 
 
 It was while Pierre, dressed in his coachman's kaftan, pro- 
 cured and refitted for him by Gerasim, and accompanied by 
 the old man, was on his way to get the pistol at the Sukharef 
 tower, that he fell in with the Kostofs. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 ON the night of September 13, Kutuzof's order for the 
 Eussian troops to retire through Moscow to the Eiazan high- 
 way was promulgated. 
 
 The vanguard moved in the night. The troops marching at 
 night took their time and proceeded slowly and in good order ; 
 but at daybreak the troops that reached the Dorogomilovsky 
 Bridge saw in front of them, on the other side, endless masses 
 of troops, packed together, hurrying across the bridge and 
 toiling along the street and avenues, blocking them up, while 
 others were pressing on them from the rear. 
 
 And an unreasonable haste and panic took possession of the 
 troops. The whole mass struggled forward to the bridge, and 
 across the river by the bridge, by the fords, and by boats. 
 Kutuzof gave orders to be driven round by back streets to the 
 other side of Moscow. 
 
 By ten o'clock on the morning of the fourteenth, only some 
 of the troops of the rearguard were left, with ample room in 
 the Dorogomilovsky suburb. The bulk of the army was by 
 that time fairly on the other side of Moscow and beyond 
 Moscow. 
 
 At this same time ten o'clock on the morning of Septem- 
 ber 14 Napoleon stood, surrounded by his troops, on the 
 Poklonnaya Hill, and gazed at the landscape opened out before 
 him.
 
 348 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 From the seventh until the fourteenth of September from 
 the battle of Borodino until the entry of the enemy into Mos- 
 COAV every day of that anxious, of that fateful week was dis- 
 tinguished by unusual autumn weather, which always fills peo- 
 ple with surprise, when the sun, though moving low, burns more 
 fiercely than in the spring, when every object stands out in 
 the thin, clear atmosphere dazzling the eye, when the lungs 
 expand and are refreshed by taking in the fragrant autumn 
 air, and when, during the mild dark nights, golden stars slip 
 from the skies a constant source of terror and delight. 
 
 On September 14, at ten o'clock in the morning, the weather 
 was still the same. The brilliancy of the morning was en- 
 chanting. Moscow, from the Poklonnaya Hill, was spread 
 out spaciously with its river, its gardens and churches, and, as 
 it seemed, still alive with its own life, with its cupolas palpi- 
 tating like stars in the rays of the sun. 
 
 At the sight of this strange city, with the fantastic forms 
 of its unusual architecture, Napoleon experienced that some- 
 what envious and uneasy curiosity which men are wont to ex- 
 perience at the sight of unusual forms of a foreign life, which 
 they have never known. Apparently, this city was alive with 
 all the energy of its special life. By those vague signs 
 whereby even at a distance one can infallibly distinguish a 
 live body from a. corpse, Napoleon, from the top of the Po- 
 klonnaya Hill, could feel the palpitation of life in the city, and 
 felt, as it were, the breathing of that mighty and beautiful 
 body. 
 
 Every Russian, looking at Moscow, feels that she is his 
 mother: every foreigner, looking upon her, even though he 
 cannot appreciate this feeling for the motherhood of the city, 
 must feel the feminine character of this city, and Napoleon 
 felt it. 
 
 " Cette ville asiatique aux innombmbles eglises, Moscou la 
 Sainte. La vo'da done enfin, cette fameuse ville ! II etait 
 temps. There she is at last. It was time ! " said Napoleon, 
 and, dismounting, he commanded to have spread before him 
 the plan of that Holy Moscow, with its innumerable churches, 
 and he had his interpreter, Lelorme (Tide ville, summoned. 
 
 " Une ville occupee par Vennemi ressemble a une fille qui a 
 perdu son honneur" he said to himself, repeating the remark 
 that he had made to Tutchkof at Smolensk. And it was as a 
 "deflowered virgin " that he looked upon this Oriental beauty, 
 never seen before by him, now lying prone at his feet. 
 Strange it was to himself that at last his long desire, which
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 349 
 
 had seemed impossible, was to be gratified. In the clear 
 morning light, he contemplated now the city and then the 
 plan, and studied the characteristics of this city, and the cer- 
 tainty that he should possess it excited him and filled him 
 with awe. 
 
 " Could it have been otherwise ? " he asked himself. " Here 
 she is this capital at my feet, awaiting her fate. Where 
 now is Alexander, and what thinks he now ? Strange, beauti- 
 ful, magnificent city ! And how strange and splendid this 
 moment ! " 
 
 And then thinking of his warriors, he said to himself, " In 
 what a light I must appear to them ! This is the reward for 
 all these men of little, faith," he mused, as .he gazed about him 
 on those who were near him, and at the troops coming up the 
 hill and falling into line. 
 
 "One word from me, one movement of my hand, and de- 
 stroyed is the ancient capital of the tsars. Mais ma clemence 
 est toujours prompts a descendre sur les vaincus. I must be 
 magnanimous and truly great. But, no, it can't be true that 
 I am at Moscow " this idea suddenly occurred to him. 
 " Yet there she lies, at my feet, her golden cupolas and crosses 
 gleaming and palpitating in the rays of the sun. But I will 
 show mercy to her ! On yon ancient memorials of barbarism 
 and despotism I will inscribe the mighty words of justice 
 and mercy This will be the most cruel thing of all to 
 Alexander ; I know him.' 7 (It seemed to Napoleon that the 
 principal significance of what had taken place lay in the set- 
 tlement of his personal dispute with Alexander.) " From the 
 heights of the Kreml yes, that Kreml yonder yes, I will 
 grant him the laws of justice, I will show him the meaning of 
 true civilization. I will compel the generations of boyars to 
 remember with affection the name of their conqueror. I will 
 tell the deputations that I have had, and still have, no desire 
 for war, that I waged war only on the false policy of their 
 court, that I love and reverence Alexander, and that I will 
 grant conditions of peace in Moscow, worthy of myself and 
 my peoples. I have no desire to take advantage of the for- 
 tunes of war to humiliate an esteemed monarch. { Boyars/ 
 I will say to them, ' I have no wish for war ; my desire is for 
 the peace and prosperity of my subjects.' However, I know 
 that their presence will inspire me, and I will speak to them 
 as I always speak : clearly, triumphantly, and majestically. 
 But can it be true that I am at Moscow ? Yes, lo ! there 
 she is.
 
 350 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 " Qu'on m'amene les boyards Have the boyars brought to 
 me,' 7 he said, addressing his suite. 
 
 A general with a brilliant staff instantly galloped off after 
 the boyars. 
 
 Two hours passed. Napoleon ate his breakfast, and then 
 took up his position on the same spot on the Poklonnaya Hill, 
 and waited for the deputation. His . speech with the boyars 
 was already clearly outlined in his fancy. This discourse 
 should be full of dignity, and of that grandeur which Napoleon 
 understood so well. 
 
 Napoleon himself was fascinated by this tone of magnanim- 
 ity whicl} he fully intended to use toward Moscow. In his 
 fancy, he named a day for a reception in the palace of the 
 
 tsars at which all the Russian grandees would mingle with 
 
 the grandees of the French emperor. He mentally named a 
 governor, such a one as would be able to influence the popu- 
 lation in his favar. As he happened to know that Moscow 
 had many religious establishments, he decided, as he thought 
 it over, that all these institutions should experience his 
 bounty. He thought that just as in Africa he was bound to 
 put on a burnus and attend a mosque, so here* in Moscow he 
 must be generous after the manner of the tsars. And, in 
 order completely to win the hearts of the Russians, he, like 
 every Frenchman, unable to conceive any sentiment without 
 some reference to ma chere, ma tendre, ma pauvre mere, he 
 decided that on all these establishments he should order to 
 be inscribed in great letters : &TABLISSEMENT D^Dlfi 
 A MA CH^RE M&RE: no, simply, MAISON DE MA 
 MlZRE," he decided in his own mind. "But am I really at 
 Moscow ? Yes, there she is before me ; but why is it that 
 the deputation of the citizens is so long in appearing ? " he 
 wondered. 
 
 Meantime, in the rear ranks of the emperor's suite, a whis- 
 pered and excited consultation was taking place among his 
 generals and marshals. Those who had been sent to drum up 
 a deputation returned with the tidings that the city was 
 deserted, that all had departed or were departing from Mos- 
 cow. The faces of the generals grew pale and anxious. They 
 were not frightened because Moscow was abandoned by its 
 inhabitants, serial, as that event might well appear to 
 them, but they were afraid of the responsibility of explain- 
 ing the fact to the emperor : how, how could it be done with- 
 out exposing his majesty to that terrible position which the 
 French call ridicule, to explain to him that he had vainly
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 351 
 
 waited for the bgyars all this time, that there was a throng of 
 drunken men in the city, and that was all ! 
 
 Some declared that it was necessary, in the circumstances, 
 to get up a deputation of some sort or other ; others com- 
 bated this notion, and insisted that they must tell the empe- 
 ror the truth, after first skilfully and cautiously preparing his 
 mind for it. 
 
 " H faudra le lui dire tout de meme, We must tell him, 
 nevertheless," said the gentlemen of the suite. "Mais, 
 messieurs " 
 
 The position was all the more difficult from the fact that 
 the emperor, now that he had fully considered his schemes 
 of magnanimity, was patiently pacing back and forth before 
 the plan of the city, looking from time to time, with hand 
 shading eyes, down the road to Moscow, and smiling with 
 gayety and pride. 
 
 " Mais c'est impossible ! " exclaimed the gentlemen of the 
 suite, shrugging their shoulders, and not venturing to pro- 
 nounce the terrible word which all understood : le ridicule. 
 
 Meantime, the emperor wearied of his fruitless waiting, 
 and, by his quick, theatrical instinct, conscious that the 
 " majestic moment," by lasting too long, was beginning to lose 
 its majesty, waved his hand. 
 
 A single report of a signal gun rang forth, and the troops 
 which enclosed Moscow on all sides moved toward Mos- 
 cow by the Tverskaya, Kaluzhskaya, and Dorogomilovskaya 
 barriers. Swifter and swifter, one after another, at double- 
 quick or on galloping steeds, moved the troops, hidden in 
 clouds of dust raised by their trampling feet, and making the 
 welkin ring with the commingling roar of their shouts. 
 
 Carried away by the movement of the troops, Napoleon 
 rode along with them to the Dorogomilovskaya barrier, but 
 there again he paused, and, dismounting, walked for a long 
 time down the Kaminerkolezhsky rampart, in expectation of 
 the deputation. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 Moscow meantime was deserted. 
 
 There were still people there ; five-sixths of all the former 
 inhabitants were still left, but it was deserted. It was 
 deserted just in the same sense as a starving bee-hive that has 
 lost its queen bee,
 
 852 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 In the queenless hive, life has practically, ceased, but at a 
 superficial view it seems -as much alive as others. 
 
 Just as merrily in the bright rays of the midday sun the 
 bees hum around the queeiiless hive, just as they hum around 
 the other living hives ; the honey smell is carried just as far 
 away ; the bees make their nights from it just the same. 
 But it requires only a glance into it to understand that there 
 is no longer any life in that hive. The bees do not fly in the 
 same way as from the living hives. The bee-master recog- 
 nizes a different odor, a different sound. When he taps on 
 the walls of such a hive, instead of that instantaneous, 
 friendly answer which had been the case of yore, the buzzing 
 of ten thousands of bees, lifting their stings threateningly, 
 and the swift fanning of wings producing that familiar, airy 
 hum of life, he is answered by an incoherent buzzing, a faint 
 rumbling in the depths of the empty hive. 
 
 From the apertures comes no more, as formerly, that fine, 
 winy fragrance of honey and pollen, nor wafts thence that 
 warm breath of garnered sweets, but the odor of the honey 
 is mingled with the effluvium of emptiness and decay. t 
 
 No more you find at the entrance the guardians of the hive, 
 trumpeting the alarm, curling up their stings, and making 
 ready to perish for the defence of the swarm. Xo more that 
 equable and gentle murmur of palpitating work, like the 
 sound of bubbling waters, but instead you hear the incohe- 
 rent, fitful buzz of disorder. Back and forth around the hive, 
 coyly and cunningly, fly the black, oblong, honey-coated plun- 
 derer bees ; they sting not, rather they slip away from peril. 
 Before, they never flew in unless they were laden, but when 
 they flew out again they were stripped of their burden of 
 bee-bread ; now they fly off laden with honey. 
 
 The bee-master opens the lower compartment and looks 
 into the bottom of the hive. Instead of black bunches of 
 juicy bees bustling with labor, clinging to each other's legs, 
 and hanging down to the very us (as the bottom board of the 
 hive is called), and with the ceaseless murmur of labor, con- 
 structing the waxen walls, now stupefied, shrivelled bees crawl 
 here and there aimlessly across the floor and on the walls. 
 
 Instead of a floor neatly jointed with propolis and swept 
 by winnowing wings, he sees it littered with crumbs of cells 
 and bee-dirt, half-dying bees scarcely able to move their legs, 
 and bees entirely dead and left unscavengered. 
 
 The bee-master opens the upper compartment and looks at 
 the top of the hive.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 353 
 
 Instead of compact rows of bees filling all the cells of the 
 honeycomb and warming the larvae, he sees, to be sure, the 
 artistic, complex edifice of the comb, but no longer in that 
 state of perfection which it had shown before. All is neg- 
 iected and befouled. Dusky robber wasps make haste to 
 thrust their impertinences stealthily among the works ; his 
 own bees, shrivelled, curled up, withered, as though old age 
 had come upon them, languidly crawl about, disturbing no 
 one, wishing for naught, and balked of all consciousness of 
 life. Drones, bumble-bees, beetles, and bee-moths come blun- 
 dering in their flight against the walls of the hive. Here and 
 there among the cells filled with honey and dead larvae can 
 be heard occasionally an angry brmzhzh ; now and then a pair 
 of bees, through old custom and instinct, try to clear out the cell, 
 and, zealously exerting all their feeble forces, drag forth the dead 
 bee or dead drone, themselves not knowing why they do so. 
 
 In another corner two aged bees lazily fight, or clean them- 
 selves, or feed each other, not knowing whether friendship or 
 enmity impels them. In still* a third place, the throng of 
 bees, crowding one another, fall upon some victim and strike 
 and suffocate it. And there a weakened or injured bee falls 
 slowly and lightly, like eider down, from above upon the heap 
 of the dead. 
 
 The bee-master breaks open some of the waxen cells, in 
 order to see the brood. Instead of tne compact black circles 
 vith thousands of bees crouched back to back and contem- 
 plating the lofty mysteries of generation, he sees hundreds of 
 downcast, half-dead, unconscious skeleton bees. Almost all 
 of them have died unconsciously, as they sat in the holy of 
 holies, which they had been guarding, and from which, long 
 ago, the spirit had fled. From them arises the effluvium of 
 decay and death. 
 
 Only a few of them stir feebly, try to lift themselves, fly 
 indolently and settle on the hostile hand without strength 
 left to sting it ere they die the rest that are dead shower 
 down like fish scales. 
 
 The bee-master shuts up the compartment, puts a chalk 
 mark on the stand, and when the time comes, knocks it open 
 and drains out the honey. 
 
 In the same way Moscow was deserted, when Napoleon, 
 weary, uneasy, and in bad humor, walked back and forth at 
 the Kammerkolezhsky ramparts, waiting for the deputation 
 a ceremony which, although one of mere show, he neverthe- 
 less affected to consider absolutely indispensable. 
 VOL. 3. 23.
 
 354 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 It was only out of thoughtlessness that in the various quaiN 
 ters of the city men still stirred about, keeping up the ordi- 
 nary forms of life, and not themselves realizing what they 
 were doing. 
 
 When at last Napoleon was informed, with proper circum- 
 locution, that Moscow was deserted, he gave his informant a 
 fierce look, and, turning away, continued his silent promenade. 
 
 " Have my carriage brought ! " he said. He took his seat 
 in it by the side of his aide-de-camp and rode into the suburb. 
 
 " Moscou deserte ! Quel evenement invraisemllable ! How 
 incredible ! " he muttered to himself. 
 
 He did not enter the city proper, but put up at a hotel in 
 the Dorogomilovsky suburb. 
 
 Le coup de theatre avait rate His theatrical climax had 
 fallen through. 
 
 CHAPTEK XXI. 
 
 THE Russian troops poured across Moscow from two o'clock 
 in the morning until two o'clock in the afternoon, and they 
 had taken with them the last fleeing inhabitants and the 
 wounded. 
 
 The largest division of the troops during the movement passed 
 over the Kamennoi, Moskovoretsky, and Yauzsky bridges. 
 
 While they were flowing in two streams around the Kreml 
 and over the two former the Stone and Moscow River 
 bridges a tremendous mob of soldiers, taking advantage of 
 the delay and crush, ran back from the bridge, and stealthily 
 and noiselessly sneaked by Vasili Blazhennui * and through 
 the Borovitskiya gates into the city, to the Krasnaya Plo- 
 shchad or Red Place, where they knew, by their keen scent, 
 that they might without much difficulty lay their hands on 
 what did not belong to them. 
 
 A similar throng of men, as though in search of cheap bar- 
 gains, also thronged the Gostinnui Dvor Moscow's great 
 bazaar in all its alleys and passageways. But absent were 
 the persistent, softly wheedling voices of the shopkeepers ; 
 absent the pedlers and the variegated throng of women pur- 
 chasers. Nothing was to be seen but uniforms and the cloaks 
 of weaponless soldiers, entering without burdens and return- 
 ing to the ranks laden with spoil. 
 
 * Vasili Blazhennui, the many-bulbed, turreted, fasceted, and fantastic 
 cathedral of St. Basil, built by Ivan the Terrible, who, in order that it should 
 not be reduplicated, had the architect's eyes put out.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 355 
 
 Merchants and bazaar-men a few of them ran about 
 amongst the soldiers, like crazy men, opening and closing 
 their shops, and themselves helping the gallant soldier lads to 
 carry off their wares. 
 
 On the square in front of the Gostinnui Dvor stood drum- 
 mers beating to arms, but the rattle of the drums had not its 
 usual effect to call back the soldier plunderers, but on the con- 
 trary drove them to run farther and farther from its signal. 
 
 Among the soldiers, at the shops and in the passageways, 
 could be seen men in gray kaftans and with shaven heads. 
 
 Two officers, one with a scarf over his uniform, and riding 
 a thin, iron-gray steed, the other in a cloak and on foot, stood 
 at the corner of Ilyinka Street, engaged in conversation. A 
 third officer dashed up to them. 
 
 " The general orders that they be all driven out instanter, at 
 any cost. Why, there .was never the like of it seen ! Half of 
 the men have left the ranks. Where are you going ? And 
 you, too ? " he cried, first to one and then to three infantry 
 soldiers, who without their arms, and holding up the tails of 
 their overcoats, were sneaking past him to rejoin their ranks. 
 " Halt, you dogs ! " 
 
 "Yes, but please try to collect them," replied the other 
 officer. " You can't do it ! the only way is to inarch more 
 rapidly, and then the ones in the rear couldn't drop out, that's 
 all." ' 
 
 " But how move faster, or move at all, when there's a halt 
 and a jam at the bridge ? Why not post sentinels, and keep 
 them from breaking ranks ? " 
 
 "Forward and snake them out ! " cried the senior officer. 
 
 Tke officer in the scarf dismounted, beckoned up the drum- 
 mer, and went with him under the arch. A number of sol- 
 diers started on the double-quick. A merchant with red 
 pimples all over his cheeks- and around his nose, and with an 
 expression of cool, calculating composure, came to the officer 
 with all the haste compatible with his elegant dignity, and, 
 wringing his hands : " Your nobility," said he, " do me a 
 favor; give me your protection. As far as any small trifles go 
 we are only too glad, you know, if you please I will bring 
 you some cloth instantly glad enough to give a gentleman a 
 couple of rolls, it's a pleasure to us because we are sure that 
 but this, this is out-and-out robbery ! Please ! if they 
 had only set a guard, or at any rate let us know in time to 
 shut up " 
 
 A number of merchants gathered around the officer.
 
 856 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 11 Eh ! it's a waste of breath to whine like that ! " said one 
 of them, a lean man with a grave face. "Men with their 
 heads off don't weep for their hair! Let 'em have what they 
 want ! " And he made an energetic gesture, and came to the 
 officer's side. 
 
 " It's fine talk for JOM, Ivan Sidoruitch ! " exclaimed the 
 first speaker, angrily, "I beg of you, your nobility ! " 
 
 " Fine talk ! " echoed the lean man. " I have yonder three 
 shops, and a hundred thousand worth of goods. How can we 
 have protection when the troops are off ? l God's powers are 
 not ours.' " * 
 
 " I beg of you, your nobility," persisted the first merchant, 
 making a low bow. The officer stood in uncertainty, and his 
 face showed his irresolution. 
 
 " But, after all, what affair is it of mine ! " he suddenly 
 cried, and went with swift strides toward the front of the line. 
 
 In one shop that was open, resounded blows and curses, and, 
 as the officer entered, one of the men in a gray kaftan and 
 with shaven head was flung out violently. 
 
 This man, all doubled up, slunk past the merchants and the of- 
 ficers. The officer flew at the soldiers who were in the shop. But 
 just at that instant the terrible yells of a tremendous throng 
 were heard 011 the Moskvoretsky Bridge, and the officer hurried 
 across the square. 
 
 " What is it ? What is the matter ? " he demanded ; but 
 his comrade had already spurred off in the direction of the 
 outcry, past Vasili Blazhennui. The officer mounted and set 
 out after him. When he reached the bridge he saw two can- 
 non unlimbered, the infantry running along the bridge, several 
 telyegas overturned, a host of frightened faces, and all the sol- 
 diers roaring with laughter. 
 
 Near the cannons stood a team drawn by a pair of horses. 
 Behind the team, between the wheels, four grayhounds, with 
 collars on, were huddled together. The team was loaded with 
 a mountain of household furniture, and on the very top, 
 next a baby's high-chair with its legs turned up in the air, 
 sat a peasant woman uttering the most piercing, piteous 
 squeals. 
 
 The officer was told by his comrades that the yells of the 
 throng and the woman's squeals arose from the fact that Gen- 
 eral Yermolof, when he rode up to this mob and learned that 
 the soldiers were scattered about plundering the shops because 
 of the crowd of citizens encumbering the bridge, had ordered 
 * Bdzhyu Vlast' nie rukami sklast'.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 357 
 
 the cannon to be unlimbered, and to clear the bridge as an ex- 
 ample. The crowd, trying to escape, overturning the teams, 
 running into each other, yelling desperately, had cleared the 
 bridge ; and the troops were allowed to proceed. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 THE city proper, meantime, was deserted. Almost no 
 one was on the streets. The house gates and shops were all 
 locked up. Here and there, in the vicinity of drinking- 
 saloons, could be heard occasional shouts of revelry or 
 drunken singing. Not a carriage passed along, and rarely 
 were heard the steps of pedestrians. 
 
 In the Povarskaya it was perfectly still and deserted. The 
 enormous courtyard of the Rostofs was littered with wisps 
 of straw and the droppings of the horses ; not a soul was visible. 
 
 In the house itself, abandoned with all its costly contents, 
 two human beings were in the great drawing-room. These 
 were the dvornik, Ignat, and the groom, Mishka, Vasilyitch's 
 grandson, who had been left behind with the old man, in Mos- 
 cow. Mishka had opened the harpsichord, an'd was drumming 
 on it with one finger. The dvornik, with his arms akimbo, 
 and with a smile of self-satisfaction, was standing in front 
 of the mirror. 
 
 " Wan't that smart ? Hey ? Uncle Ignat ? " asked the lad, 
 suddenly beginning to pound with both hands on the keys. 
 
 " Would you mind ! " * replied Ignat, the smile that an- 
 swered his smile in the glass growing ever broader and broader 
 with amazement. 
 
 "You unconscionable creatures! Aren't you ashamed of 
 yourselves ! " suddenly exclaimed the voice of Mavra Kuzmi- 
 nitchna, who had stolen noiselessly into the room. "Eka! 
 what a conceited simpleton grinning at his own teeth ! That's 
 a nice way to treat us ! There's nothing put away yon, and 
 Vasilyitch clean beat out ! Have done with this ! " 
 
 Ignat, hitching up his belt, ceased to smile, and, submissively 
 dropping his eyes, left the room. 
 
 " Little auntie,* I was playing very softly ! " said the lad. 
 
 " I'll softly you ! You little scamp ! " cried Mavra Kuzmi- 
 nitchna, shaking her fist at him. "Go, get ready the samovar 
 for your granddad ! " 
 
 Mavra Kuzminitchna, whisking the dust from the harpsi 
 * Ish tui. t Ty6tinTca.
 
 358 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 chord, closed it, and with a heavy sigh left the drawing-room 
 and locked the door behind her. 
 
 On reaching the dvor, Mavra Kuzminitchna paused to con- 
 sider where she should next turn her steps ; whether to drink 
 tea with Vasilyitch in the wing, or to the storeroom to finish 
 putting away what was still left to put away. 
 
 Swift steps were heard coming down the quiet street. The 
 steps halted at the wicket gate ; a hand rattled the latch and 
 tried to open it. 
 
 Mavra Kuzminitchna went to the gate. 
 
 "Who is wanted?" 
 
 " The count, Count Ilya Andreyitch Eostof ." 
 
 " Who are you ? " 
 
 "An officer. I should much like to see him/' said a pleas- 
 ant, gentlemanly voice. 
 
 Mavra Kuzminitchna opened the wicket. And into the dvor 
 walked a chubby-faced officer of about eighteen, with a strong 
 family resemblance to the Rostofs. 
 
 "They have, gone, batyushka. They were pleased to go 
 yesterday afternoon," said Mavra Kuzminitchna, in an affec- 
 tionate tone. 
 
 The young officer standing in the gateway, as though unde- 
 cided whether to come in or to go away, clucked his tongue. 
 
 " Akh ! what a shame ! " he exclaimed. " I ought to have 
 come yesterday Akh ! What a pity ! " 
 
 Mavra Kuzminitchna, meantime, had been attentively and 
 sympathetically scrutinizing the familiar Eostof traits in the 
 young man's face, and his well-worn cloak and the run-down 
 boots that he wore. 
 
 " But what do you want of the count ? " she asked. 
 
 " Now I declare ! What can I do ? " exclaimed the young 
 man, in a tone of vexation, and took hold of the wicket with 
 the intention of going away. Then he paused again irreso- 
 lutely. 
 
 " You see," said he, suddenly, " I am a relative of the 
 count's, and he has always been very good to me. Just look 
 here, do you see ? " he glanced down at his cloak and boots 
 with a frank, gay smile. " And I'm getting out at elbows, 
 and I haven't a copper ; so I was going to ask the count " 
 
 Mavra Kuzminitchna did not allow him to finish speaking. 
 
 " You just wait a wee minute,* batyushka ! " said she. " Just 
 
 one wee minute." And the instant the young officer had let 
 
 go of the latch, Mavra Kuzminitchna turned about, and, with 
 
 * Minututchka.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 359 
 
 her old woman's gait, she rapidly waddled across the rear 
 dvor to the wing where her own rooms were. 
 
 While Mavra Kuzminitchna was trotting off to her room, 
 the officer walked up and down the dvor, dropping his head, 
 contemplating his ragged boots, and slightly smiling. 
 
 "What a shame that I have missed my dear little uncle. 
 But what a nice old woman ! Where did she go to ? And I 
 should like to know what is the nearest way for me to reach 
 my regiment : it must have got to the Rogozhskaya gate by 
 this time," said the young officer to himself. 
 
 Mavra Kuzminitchna, with a terrified and, at the same time, 
 resolute face, and carrying in her hand a checkered handker- 
 chief tied into a knot, came hurrying back from her room. 
 Before she had gone many steps she untied the handkerchief, 
 and took out of it a " white note " of twenty-five rubles assig- 
 nats, and hastily handed it to the officer. 
 
 " If his illustriousness were at home, of course, he would 
 help a relative, but as it is perhaps these times " Mavra 
 Kuzminitchna faltered, and grew confused ; but the officer had 
 no scruples, and showed no haste, but he grasped the bank- 
 note, and thanked Mavra Kuzminitchna. 
 
 "Christ be with you Khristos s vami, bdtyushka God 
 save you ! " exclaimed ' Mavra Kuzminitchna, making a low 
 obeisance, and going down to the gate with him. 
 
 The officer smiled as though amused at himself, and, shaking 
 his head, started off down the deserted streets, almost at a 
 run, in order to overtake his regiment at the Yauzsky Bridge. 
 
 But Mavra Kuzminitchna stood long with tears in her eyes in 
 front of the closed wicket gate, contemplatively shaking her 
 head, and conscious of an unusual gush of motherly affection 
 and pity for the young officer, whom she had never seen before. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 IN an unfinished house, in the Varvarka, the lower part of 
 which was occupied by a drinking-saloon, were heard drunken 
 shouts and songs. . On benches, by the tables in the small, 
 filthy room, sat a dozen or so of factory hands. All of them 
 were tipsy, sweaty, with clouded eyes, and they were singing 
 with wide, yawning mouths and bloated cheeks. They were 
 singing, each on his own account, laboriously, with all their 
 might and main, apparently not because they felt like singing,
 
 360 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 but simply to show that they were intoxicated and were on a 
 spree. 
 
 One of them, a tall, fair-complexioned young fellow, m a 
 clean blue chiiika or smock-frock, was standing up as their 
 leader. His face, with its delicate, straight nose, would have 
 been handsome had it not been for the thin, compressed, con- 
 stantly twitching lips, and the clouded, ugly-looking, unchan- 
 ging eyes. He stood over them as they sang, and, apparently 
 possessed by some fancy, he solemnly, and with angular 
 motion, waved his white arm, bare to the elbow, while he tried 
 to spread his dirty fingers to an unnatural extent. The 
 sleeve of his chiiika was constantly coming down, and the 
 young fellow kept tucking it up again with his left hand, as 
 though it were especially important to keep that white, blue- 
 veined, restless arm entirely bare. 
 
 While they were in the midst of the song, the sound of a 
 scuffle and fisticuffs was heard on the steps leading to the 
 entry. The tall young man waved his hand. " That'll do ! " 
 he cried imperatively ; " a fight, boys ! " and he, while still 
 trying to keep his sleeves tucked up, hastened out to the 
 steps. 
 
 The factory hands staggered after him. The factory hands, 
 who had that morning been singing in the kabak under the 
 leadership of the tall young fellow, had brought the tapster 
 some hides from the factory, and exchanged them for wine. 
 Some blacksmiths, from a neighboring smithy, hearing the 
 rumpus in the kabak, and supposing that it had been violently 
 broken open, thought that they would like to take a hand also. 
 
 A quarrel had ensued on the steps. The tapster had gotten 
 into a squabble with one of the smiths at the very door, and 
 just as the factory hands arrived on the scene, this blacksmith 
 tore himself free from the tapster, and fell face down on the 
 sidewalk. 
 
 A second blacksmith forced his way into the door, and was 
 pressing up against the tapster with his chest. 
 
 The young fellow, with the sleeve rolled up, as he came out, 
 dealt the obstreperous blacksmith a heavy blow in the face, 
 and cried savagely, 
 
 " Boys ! they're killing ours ! " 
 
 By this time the first blacksmith had picked himself up, and, 
 dashing off the blood from his bruised face, he set up a lachry- 
 mose yell, 
 
 " Police ! murder ! A man killed ! Help ! " 
 
 " Oi batyushki ! they're murdering a man ! There's murder
 
 WAR AND PEACE. - 361 
 
 going on ! " screamed a woman, running out from the gates of 
 the adjoining house. A throng of the populace collected 
 around the bleeding blacksmith. 
 
 "Isn't it enough for you to plunder the people, and rob 
 them of their last shirt," cried some voice, addressing the tap- 
 ster, " but you have to kill a man ? You murderer ! " 
 
 The tall young fellow, standing on the steps, rolled his 
 bleary eyes first on the tapster, then on the smiths, as though 
 trying to make up his mind which first he was in duty bound 
 to take up the quarrel with. " Murderer ! " he suddenly cried 
 to the tapster. " Tie him, boys ! " 
 
 " So I'm the one to be tied, am I ? " yelled the tapoter, 
 defending himself against the men who started to lay hands 
 on him, and, snatching off his cap, he flung it on the ground. 
 As though this action had some mysterious, ominous signifi- 
 cance, the factory hands who had surrounded the tapster 
 paused irresolute. 
 
 " I'm for order, brother, I understand very well. I'm going 
 for the police. You suppose I won't go ? All rioting to-day was 
 particularly forbidden ! " cried the tapster, picking up his cap. 
 
 ' Come on, then, let's go ! " and " Come on, then, let's go ! " 
 cried first the tapster, and then the tall young man, and they 
 moved down the street, side by side. The bloody-faced black- 
 smith fell in with them. The factory hands and a motley 
 crowd of people followed them, talking and shouting. 
 
 At the corner of Moroseika Street, opposite a great house 
 with closed shutters, and a shoemaker's signboard on it, stood 
 a score of journeymen shoemakers with dismal faces lean, 
 weary-looking men, in khalats and torn chuikas. 
 
 " He ought to settle his men's accounts ! " exclaimed a thin 
 master workman with a Jewish beard and knitted brows. 
 " But now he's sucked our very blood, and thinks it's quits ! 
 He's led us by the nose, yes, he has for a whole week. And 
 now he's got us to the last post, and has skipped himself." 
 
 When the master workman saw the bloody-faced man and 
 the crowd, he ceased speaking, and all the bootmakers, with 
 eager curiosity, joined the hurrying crowd. 
 
 " Where's the crowd going ? " 
 
 11 Why, everybody knows ! We're going to the nachalnik ! " 
 
 " Say ! Is't true that ours is beaten ? " 
 
 " You thought so, did you ! See what the men's saying!" 
 
 Questions and answers were exchanged. The tapster, taking 
 advantage of the growing mob, stepped aside from the people 
 and returned to his kabak.
 
 3(32 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 The tall young man, not noticing the disappearance of his 
 enemy the tapster, and waving his bare arm, went on speaking 
 vociferously, attracting general attention. The crowd huddled 
 close around him pre-eminently, supposing that he might be 
 able to give some reasonable answer to the questions that in- 
 terested them all. 
 
 " He talk about order ! talk about laws ! Why, we must 
 depend on the authorities ! Am* t I right, orthodox believers ? " 
 cried the tall young fellow, almost noticeably smiling. " Does 
 he think there ain't any authorities ? How could we get 
 along without authorities ? If it weren't for them, why, we'd 
 there'd be no end of plundering ! " 
 
 "What nonsensical talk ! " cried some speaker in the crowd. 
 " Why, then, have they gone and left Moscow ? They have 
 been making fun of you, and you swallowed it all down ! " 
 " How many of our soldiers are there on the march ! So you 
 think they'll let him in, do you ?" " That's what the 
 " authorities is for ! " " Just listen to yon ! What baby talk 
 he's giving us ! " Such were the remarks made in the crowd 
 called out by the tall young fellow's words. 
 
 Near the walls of the Kitai Gorod * another small knot of 
 men were gathered around a man in a frieze cloak, who held 
 a sheet of paper in his hands. 
 
 " The ukase ! the ukase ! He's reading the ukase ! he s 
 reading the ukase ! " cried various voices in the throng, and the 
 populace rushed toward the reader. 
 
 The man in the frieze overcoat was reading Eostopchin's 
 " placard " the afishka of September eleventh. When the 
 crowd gathered round him he became, as it were, confused, but 
 at the demand of the tall young fellow, who forced his 
 way up to him, he began at the beginning of the afishka 
 again. 
 
 " To-morrow morning early I am going to his serene high- 
 ness the prince," read the young man with a slight tremor 
 in his voice. " His serene highness ! " repeated the tall 
 young fellow triumphantly with a smile on his lips, and a 
 frown on his brow " in order to talk things over with him, 
 to act and to help the troops exterminate the villains. We'll 
 knock the wind out of them," pursued the reader and paused. 
 
 * The so-called "China Town" of Moscow: "perhaps derived from 
 Kitai-gorod in Podolia, the birthplace of Helena, mother of Ivan IV., who 
 founded the Kitai of Moscow, enclosing the bazaars and palaces of the nobles 
 and separated from the Kreml by a vast space called the Bed Place, or 1 lace 
 Beautiful." (A.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 36? 
 
 "Has he seen him ? " cried the tall young fellow triumphantly. 
 " He's kept clear of him the whole distance ! " 
 
 " And we shall send these guests of ours to the devil. I 
 am coming back to dinner, and will then set to work and 
 we'll give it to these rascals hot and heavy, and wipe 'em out 
 of existence." * 
 
 The final words were read by the reader in utter silence. 
 The tall young fellow gloomily dropped his head. It was 
 evident that no one understood those final words. Especially 
 the sentence " I shall come back to dinner," offended the good 
 sense of the reader even, and the hearers as well. The feeling 
 of the populace was pitched to a high key, and this was too 
 simple and unnecessarily commonplace ; it was exactly what 
 each one of them might have said, and therefore what a 
 ukase emanating from the supreme authority had no business 
 to say. 
 
 All stood in melancholy silence. The tall young fellow 
 pursed his lips and swayed slightly. 
 
 " Why not go and ask him ? " " There is he himself ! " 
 "How would you ask him?" "Why not?" "He will 
 explain it to us " Such were the remarks heard in different 
 parts of the crowd, and general attention was directed to the 
 drozhsky of the politsimeister or chief of police, driving 
 across the square accompanied by two mounted dragoons. 
 
 The chief of police had been that morning by the count's 
 orders to set fire to the boats, and, as it happened, this errand 
 had procured for him a goodly sum of money which at that 
 very moment was safely reposing in his pocket. When he 
 saw a great throng of people hurrying toward him he com- 
 manded the driver to pull up. 
 
 " What is this crowd ? " he shouted to the men who c^me 
 up timidly ahead of the others, and paused near the drozhsky. 
 " What is this crowd ? I should like to know," asked the 
 politsimeister, who had received no answer. 
 
 " Your nobility, they " began the man in the frieze cloak 
 who had been the reader, " your nobility, they they accept 
 the most illustrious count's proclamation, and are willing to 
 obey, and they don't value their lives, and this isn't a riot at 
 all, they wouldn't think of stirring one up, as the most illus- 
 trious count " 
 
 " The count has not gone, he is in town, and arrangements 
 wili be made for you. Drive on pashol " cried he to the 
 coachman. The crowd stood quietly pressing around those 
 * Sdieiayem, dedielayem i otdilayem.
 
 364 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 who had heard what the official said, and looking at the 
 receding drozhsky. 
 
 Just then the politsime'ister glanced around in terror, said 
 something to his coachman, and his horses were sent off at a 
 sharper trot. 
 
 "Fooled, boys! Let us go to the count himself!" cried 
 the tall young fellow. " Don't let him escape ! " " Make 
 him give an account ! " " Hold him," cried various voices, 
 and the men started on the run after the drozhsky. 
 
 The crowd following the chief of police hurried along with 
 a roar of voices to the Lubyanka. 
 
 " How is this ? The gentry and the merchants have all 
 gone off, and we are betrayed ! What ! are we dogs, that we 
 are left ? " was said by more than one in the crowd. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 ON the evening of September 13, after his interview with 
 Kutuzof, Count Rostopchin, offended and wounded because he 
 had not been invited to the council of war, and because Kutuzof 
 paid no attention to his offer to take part in defence of the 
 capital, amazed at the discovery that he had made while at the 
 camp, that the tranquillity of the capital and the patriotic 
 disposition of its inhabitants were regarded not merely of 
 secondary importance, but rather as absolutely trivial and insig- 
 nificant offended, wounded and amazed by all this, Count 
 Rostopchin had returned to Moscow. 
 
 After finishing his dinner, the count, without undressing, lay 
 down on his couch, and at one o'clock was awakened by a courier 
 who brought him a letter from Count Kutuzof. In this letter 
 Kutuzof, after informing him that the troops were to retire 
 beyond Moscow along the Riazan highway, asked the count if 
 he would be good enough to send a number of police cliinov 
 niks to conduct the troops across the city. 
 
 This was no news to Count Rostopcliin. Not only during 
 his conference with Kutuzof on the Poklonnaya Hill, but ever 
 since the battle of Borodino, when all the generals who came 
 to Moscow declared with one voice that it was impossible to 
 give battle, and when, by the count's consent, the crown treas- 
 ure had been sent out of the city, and already half of the 
 inhabitants had left, Count Rostopcliin was well aware that 
 Moscow was to be abandoned; but nevertheless this news, 
 conveyed in the form of a simple note, containing Kutuzof's
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 365 
 
 command and received at midnight, in the midst of his first 
 sleep, amazed and annoyed the count. 
 
 Afterwards in explaining his action at that time, Count 
 Rostopchin wrote in several instances that he had two 
 objects of especial importance in view : de maintenir la tran- 
 qnillite a Moscou et d' en fwire partir les habitants "to main- 
 tain good order in Moscow, and to expedite the departure of 
 the inhabitants." 
 
 If we grant this twofold object, any o'f Rostopchin's actions 
 would be irreproachable. Why were not the precious things 
 of Moscow carried away, weapons, cartridges, powder, stores 
 of grain ? Why were thousands of the inhabitants treacher- 
 ously informed, to their ruin, that Moscow was not to be 
 abandoned ? 
 
 " To preserve tranquillity in the capital," is Count Rostop- 
 chin's explanation and answer. 
 
 Why were packages of unnecessary papers from the court- 
 house and Leppich's ballo6n, and other articles sent out ? " In 
 order to leave the city empty," again says Count Rostopchin's 
 explanation.' 
 
 Only grant the premise that this and that threatened the 
 city's tranquillity, and every sort of procedure would be 
 justifiable. 
 
 All the horrors of the Terror were based merely on the 
 attempt to preserve the tranquillity of Paris. 
 
 On what .was based Count Rostopchin's effort to keep the 
 Moscow populace tranquil in 1812 ? What reason was there 
 for supposing that any tendency toward popular disturbance 
 existed in the city ? The citizens had left, the troops retreat- 
 ing filled Moscow. Why should this h'ave led to any riots 
 among the people ? 
 
 Neither in Moscow alone nor anywhere in all Russia, during 
 the invasion of the enemy, was there anything like an insur- 
 rection. On the thirteenth and fourteenth of September, more 
 than ten thousand inhabitants remained in Moscow, and 
 except the crowd collected in the governor-general's (Ivor, and 
 that at his own instigation, there was no trouble. 
 
 Evidently there would have been still less reason to ex- 
 pect excitement among the populace if Rostopchin, after the? 
 "battle of Borodino, when the abandonment of Moscow was 
 evident or at least probable, had, instead of stirring up tlr> 
 people by the distribution of arms and placards, taken 
 measures to remove all the treasure, the gunpowder, the 
 projectiles and the specie, and fairly explained to the people 
 that the city was to be abandoned.
 
 366 ': ^ AND PEACK 
 
 Rostopchin, a hot-tempered, sanguine man, who had always 
 been concerned in the higher administrative circles, though he 
 had genuine patriotic feeling, had not the slightest comprehen- 
 sion of that populace which he thought he directed. From 
 the earliest occupation of Smolensk by the enemy, Rostopchin, 
 in his imagination, conceived that he was to play the part of 
 director of the popular sentiment in the heart of Russia. Not 
 only did it seem to him as it seems to every administrator 
 that he was ruling the external affairs of the inhabitants of 
 Moscow, but it seemed to him that he directed their impulses 
 by means of his proclamations and "placards " composed in that 
 rakish style which makes the people contemptible, and which 
 they do not comprehend when they hear it from their superiors. 
 The beautiful role of director of the popular sentiment was 
 so pleasing to Rostopchin, he stuck to it so assiduously, that 
 the imperative necessity for him to step down and out of it, 
 the imperative necessity of abandoning Moscow, with any 
 heroic climax, took him by surprise ; and the ground on which 
 he had been standing was suddenly cut out from under, and he 
 really knew not what to do. 
 
 Although he foresaw it, still with all his soul he refused to 
 believe, until the last moment, that Moscow was to be aban- 
 doned, and he did nothing with that end in view. The inhab- 
 itants left the city against his will. If he sent out the court- 
 records,, it was only because the chinovniks insisted upon it, 
 and the count consented against his better judgment. 
 
 He himself was wholly occupied in that role which he had 
 taken upon himself. As often happens with men endowed 
 with a vivid imagination, he had long before known that Mos- 
 cow would have to be abandoned, but he knew it only by his 
 reason, and his whole soul revolted against the belief because 
 he was not yet carried by his imagination to the height of 
 this new position. 
 
 All his activity, assiduous and energetic as it was, how 
 far it was profitable and re-acted upon the populace, is another 
 question, all his activity was directed simply toward arousing 
 in the inhabitants the feeling which he himself experienced 
 of patriotic hatred against the French, and confidence in him- 
 self. 
 
 But when the event assumed its actual historical propor- 
 tions, when it seemed trivial to express his hatred merely in 
 words against the French, when it was no longer possible to 
 express this hatred by a conflict, when self-confidence began 
 to appear disadvantageous in face of the one great question
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 367 
 
 that concerned Moscow, when the whole population like one 
 man, flinging away their possessions, streamed out of Moscow, 
 proving by this act of negation all the power of the popu- 
 lar sentiment, then the role which Rostopchin had selected 
 seemed suddenly absurd. He suddenly felt himself alone, 
 weak, and ridiculous, with nothing solid to stand upon. 
 
 On being wakened from sound sleep and receiving a cold 
 and imperative note from Kutuzof, Rostopchin felt all the 
 more excited from the very guiltiness to which he confessed. 
 Everything that had been expressly intrusted to him was left 
 in Moscow all the crown treasures that he should have had 
 removed out of the city. There was now no possibility of 
 getting them away. 
 
 " Who is to blame for this ? Who let it come to this ? " he 
 mused " Of course it was not I. As far as I was concerned, 
 everything was all ready. I held Moscow as in a vice. And 
 this is the pass to which they have brought things. Knaves ! 
 traitors ! " he exclaimed mentally, not having a very clear idea 
 to whom he meant to apply the terms knave and traitor, but 
 feeling that he was in duty bound to hate these traitors, who- 
 ever they were, who were to blame for the false and ridiculous 
 position in which he found himself. 
 
 All that night Rostopchin gave out orders to all who came 
 for them from every part of Moscow. His intimates had 
 never seen the count so gloomy and irascible. 
 
 " Your illustriousness, a messenger from the Chancery De- 
 partment for orders " " from the Consistory " " from the 
 Senate" "from the University" "from the Foundling 
 Asylum " " the suffragan has sent to " " wants to know " 
 " What orders are to be given to the fire brigade ? " " the 
 superintendent of the prison " " the director of the Lunatic 
 Asylum." 
 
 Thus all night long without cessation reports were brought 
 to the count. To all these queries the count gave curt and 
 surly answers, which showed that any regulations of his were 
 now unnecessary, that all the preparations which he had so 
 carefully elaborated some one had now rendered nugatory, and 
 that this some one would have to shoulder all the responsibility 
 for what was now taking place. 
 
 " Well, tell that blockhead that it is his business to guard 
 his papers," he replied to the query from the Chancery De- 
 partment. Well, now, what is that rot about the fire bri- 
 gade ? " " If they have horses let 'em go to Vladimir { " * 
 f I)on't leave them fop the "
 
 368 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 " Your illustriousness, the overseer of the Lunatic Asylum 
 is here : what orders do you give to him ? " 
 
 "What orders? Let 'em all out, that's all let the luna- 
 tics loose in the city. When lunatics are at the head of our 
 armies, God means for these to be out ! " 
 
 W r hen asked what to do with the convicts who were in the 
 jail, the count wrathfully shouted to the inspector : " What ? 
 Did you expect me to give you a couple of battalions as escort, 
 when there aren't any to be had ? Let 'em out ; that's all." 
 
 "Your illustriousness, there ; are the politicals, Mieshkof 
 and Vereshchagin.-' 
 
 " Vereshchagin ! Isn't he hanged yet ? " screamed Rostop- 
 chin " Bring him to .me." 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 BY nine o'clock A.M., when the troops were already on the 
 way across Moscow, no one any longer came to ask the count 
 what dispositions were to be made. All who could leave had 
 left on their own responsibility : those who remained behind 
 decided for themselves what it was necessary for them to do. 
 
 The count commanded his horses to be brought round to 
 take him to Sokolniki, and he was sitting in his cabinet with 
 folded arms, scowling, sallow, and glum. 
 
 To every administrator in quiet, stormless times, it 
 seems that only by his efforts the population committed to 
 his care lives and moves, and in this consciousness of his in- 
 dispensable services he finds the chief reward for his labors 
 and efforts. 
 
 It is easy to see that, so long as the historical sea is calm, 
 the pilot-administrator in his fragile craft, who holds by his 
 boat-hook to the ship of State, and while moving, must ima- 
 gine that it is by his efforts the ship which he is steering 
 moves. But only let a storm arise, the sea grow tempestuous 
 and toss the ship itself, and then any such illusion is impossi- 
 ble. The ship drives on in its own prodigious, independent 
 course, the boat-hook is not sufficient for the tossing ship, and 
 the pilot is suddenly reduced from the position of director, 
 the fountain-head of force, to a humiliated, useless, and feeble 
 man. 
 
 Eostopchin realized this, and this was what vexed his soul. 
 
 The chief of police, who had been stopped by the throng, 
 came to the count at the same time as his adjutant, who
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 369 
 
 brought word that the horses were ready. Both were pale; 
 and the politsimeister, having reported the accomplishment of 
 his commission, informed the count that the dvor was full of 
 a throng of people desiring to see him. 
 
 Rostopchin, not answering a single word, got up and with 
 swift strides passed into his luxurious, brilliant drawing-room, 
 went to the balcony door, took hold, of the latch, then dropped 
 it again and crossed to the window, from which the whole 
 throng could be seen. 
 
 The tall young fellow with a sullen face was standing in 
 the front row, gesticulating, and making some remark. The 
 bloody-faced blacksmith stood next him. Through the closed 
 windows could be heard the roar of their voices. 
 
 " Carriage ready ? " asked Rostopchin, leaving the window. 
 
 " It is, your illustriousness," said the adjutant. 
 
 Rostopchin again went to the balcony door. 
 
 " Now what do they want ? " he asked of the politsime'ister. 
 
 " Your illustriousness, they declare that they have come by 
 your orders, ready to go out against the French. But it is a 
 riotous mob, your illustriousness. I escaped with my life. 
 Your illustriousness, may I be bold enough to suggest " 
 
 " Be good enough to withdraw ; I know what is to be done, 
 without your advice," savagely screamed Rostopchin. He 
 stood by the balcony door, looking down at the throng. 
 "This is what they have brought Russia-to ! This is the way 
 they have treated me ! " brooded Rostopchin, feeling uncon- 
 trollable rage rising in his heart against whoever might be 
 considered as the cause of what had taken place. As often 
 happens with hot-tempered men, he was overmastered by rage, 
 but he was still in search of some scapegoat on whom to vent it. 
 
 " Look at that populace, the dregs of the people," he said to 
 himself, in French, as he gazed down at the mob. " The plebs 
 stirred up by their folly ! They must have a victim," * came 
 into his head, as he gazed at the tall young fellow gesticulating 
 his arms. And this idea came into his head precisely for the 
 reason that he himself wanted a victim, an object for his wrath. 
 
 " Carriage ready ? " he demanded a second time. 
 
 " It is, your illustriousness. What orders do you give in 
 regard to Vereshchagin ? He is waiting at the stairs," replied 
 the adjutant. 
 
 " Ah ! " cried Rostopchin, as though struck by some unex- 
 pected thought. 
 
 * " La voila la populace, la lie du peuple, laplebe qu'ils ont soulevee pal 
 leursottise. II leursfaut une victime." 
 
 VOL. 3. 24.
 
 370 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 And, quickly throwing the door open, he went with resolute 
 steps out upon the balcony. The talking suddenly hushed ; 
 hats and caps were doffed, and all eyes were turned on the 
 count. 
 
 " Good-day, children ! " cried the count hurriedly, and in a 
 loud tone. " Thank you for coming. I will be down directly, 
 but, first of all, we must se,ttle the account with a villain. We 
 must punish the villain who is the cause of Moscow's ruin. 
 Wait for me ! " 
 
 And the count retired from view, slamming the door behind 
 him. 
 
 An approving roar of satisfaction ran through the throng. 
 
 " Of course he'll settle with all villains ! " " You talked 
 about the French ! " " He'll bring things to order ! " said 
 the people, as though reproaching each other for their little 
 faith. 
 
 In a few minutes an officer came hastily out of the rear door, 
 gave some order, and a line of dragoons was formed. The 
 throng eagerly rushed from the balcony toward the steps. Ros- 
 topchin, coming out angrily with swift steps upon the porch, 
 looked around him. as though searching for some one. 
 
 " Where is he ? " asked the count. And, at the same in- 
 stant that the words left his mouth, he saw coming around the 
 corner of the house, between t vvo dragoons, a young man, with 
 along, thin neck, and- with one-half of his head shaven, though 
 the hair had begun to grow again. This young man was 
 dressed in a tattered foxskin short tulup lined with blue cloth 
 it had once been a stylish garment and dirty, hempen 
 convict drawers, stuffed into fine boots, covered with mud and 
 run down at the heels. On his slender, weak legs, he dragged 
 along heavy iron shackles, which made his gait difficult and 
 irresolute. 
 
 " Ah ! " exclaimed Rostopchin, hastily turning his eyes away 
 from the young man in the foxskin tulupchik, and pointing to 
 the lower step of the porch. 
 
 " Stand him there ! " 
 
 The young man, with clanking chains, heavily dragged him- 
 self to the spot indicated ; and, after pulling up with his finger 
 the collar of his tulupchik, which pinched him, and twice 
 stretching out his long neck and sighing, he folded in front of 
 his belly submissively his slender hands, which were not those 
 of a man accustomed to work. Silence prevailed for several 
 seconds, until the young man had fairly taken his position on 
 the steps. Only in the rear of the crowd, where the people
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 371 
 
 were trying to press forward, were heard grunts and groans 
 and jostling and the shuffling of moving feet. 
 
 Rostopchin, waiting until the prisoner was in the designated 
 place, frowned, and passed his hand over his face. 
 
 " Children ! " cried he, in a voice ringing out with metallic 
 clearness, " this man, Vereshchagin, is the scoundrel who has 
 lost us Moscow ! " 
 
 The young man in the foxskin tulupchik stood in a submis- 
 sive attitude, with his wrists crossed on his abdomen, and 
 slightly stooping. He hung his head with its mutilation of 
 shaven hair ; his young face wore a hopeless expression. At 
 the first words Spoken by the count, he slowly raised his head 
 and glanced at the count, as though wishing to say something, 
 or, at least, to get his eye. But Rostopchin looked not at 
 him. On the young man's long, slender neck, behind his ear, 
 a vein stood out like a whipcord, tense and livid, and his face 
 suddenly flushed. , 
 
 All eyes were fastened upon him. He returned the gaze of 
 the throng, and, as though he found some cause for hope in 
 the expression of the faces, he gave a timid and pitiful smile, 
 and, again dropping his head, shifted his feet on the step. 
 
 " He is a traitor to his tsar and his country ; he has sold 
 himself to Bonaparte ; he alone out of all the Russians has 
 shamed the name of Russian, and by him Moscow has been 
 destroyed," harangued Rostopchin in a steady, sharp voice ; 
 but suddenly he gave a swift glance at Vereshchagin, who con- 
 tinued to stand in the same submissive attitude. This glance 
 seemed to set him beside himself. Raising his hand, he 
 shouted, stepping almost down to the crowd, 
 
 " Take the law into your own hands ! I give him over to 
 you ! " 
 
 The throng made no answer, and merely pressed together 
 more and more densely. To be crushed together, to breathe 
 in that infected atmosphere, to be unable to stir, and to expect 
 something unknown, incomprehensible, and terrible, was above 
 human endurance. The men standing in the front row, who 
 saw and heard all that was taking place before them with 
 startled, wide-staring eyes and gaping mouths, exerted all 
 their force, and resisted with their backs the forward thrust 
 and pressure of the rear ranks. 
 
 " Kill him ! let the traitor perish, and not shame the name 
 of a Russian ! " shouted Rostopchin. " Kill him ! I order 
 it ! " The mob, hearing not the words but the venomous 
 sounds of Rostopchin's voice, groaned and moved forward, then 
 instantly stood still again
 
 372 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 " Count ! " exclaimed, amid the momentary silence that 
 had instantly ensued, the timid, but at the same time theatri- 
 cal, voice of Vereshchagin, " Count, there is one God over 
 us," said Vereshchagin, lifting his head ; and again the 
 thick vein on his slender neck filled out with blood, and the 
 red flush spread over his face and died away. He had not 
 said what he meant to say. 
 
 " Kill him ! I order it ! " shouted Eostopchin, suddenly grow- 
 ing as pale as Vereshchagin. 
 
 "Draw sabres!" commanded the officer to the dragoons, 
 himself unsheathing his sabre. 
 
 Another and still more violent billow rolled through the 
 crowd, and, running up to those in the front rows, it seemed to 
 lift them, and, reeling, broke against the very steps of the 
 porch. The tall young fellow, with a petrified expression of 
 face, and with his hand arrested in mid-air, stood almost next 
 Vereshchagin. 
 
 " Cut him down ! " came the whispered command of the 
 officer to the dragoons ; and, suddenly, one of the dragoons, 
 his face distorted with rage, gave Vereshchagin a blow on the 
 head with his dull broadsword. 
 
 " Ah ! " cried Vereshchagin, who gave a short cry of amaze- 
 ment, and looked around in terror and as though he could not 
 understand why this was done to him. The same groan of 
 amazement as before ran through the throng. "0 Lord 
 Gospodi ! " exclaimed some voice. 
 
 But, instantly following the cry of amazement uttered by 
 Vereshchagin, he gave a piteous shriek of pain, and that 
 shriek was his undoing. The barrier of humane feeling 
 stretched to the highest tension, and holding back the mob, 
 suddenly broke. The crime was begun, and it had to be 
 accomplished. The lugubrious groan of reproach was swal- 
 lowed up in a fierce and maddened roar of the mob. Like the 
 seventh and last wave which wrecks the ship, this final, irre- 
 sistible billow impelled from the rear was borne through to 
 those in front, overwhelmed them, and swallowed up every- 
 thing. 
 
 The dragoon who had used his sword was about to repeat 
 his blow. Vereshchagin, with a cry of horror, warding oft' the 
 stroke with his arm, leaped among the people. The tall 
 young fellow, against whom he struck, grasped his slender 
 neck with his hands, and with a savage yell fell together with 
 him under the trampling feet of the frenzied crowd. 
 
 Some beat and mangled Vereshchagin ; others, the tall young
 
 WAR AND PEACE, 373 
 
 fellow. And the cries and yells of the surging multitude and 
 of the men who were trying to rescue the tall young fellow 
 only the more excited the virulence of the mob. It was long 
 before the dragoons were able to extricate the tall factory hand, 
 who was half beaten to death, and covered with blood. And 
 it was long, in spite of all the hot haste with which the throng 
 strove to finish the job which they had begun, before those 
 men who were beating, trampling, and mangling- Vereshchagin 
 were able to kill him ; but the throng pressed them on every 
 hand, and at the centre it was like a solid mass rocking and 
 swaying from side to side, and gave them no chance either to 
 finish with him or to let him go. 
 
 "Finish him with an axe, hey ?" " They've crushed him 
 well." _ The traitor ! he sold Christ." " Is he alive yet ? " 
 
 " He's a tough one ! " " He gets his deserts." " Try it 
 with a bar ! " " Isn't he dead yet ? " 
 
 Only when the victim ceased to struggle, and his shrieks 
 gave way to the measured, long death-rattle, did the mob begin 
 hastily to avoid the spot where lay the corpse covered with 
 gore. Each one came up, gave a look at what had been done, 
 and, full of horror, remorse, and amazement, pressed back. 
 
 " Lord, men are like wild beasts ! wonder any one was 
 spared ! " exclaimed some voice in the crowd. 
 
 "And a young fellow too ! " "Must be a merchant's son." 
 
 "What a mob!'' "They say he's the wrong one." 
 "What do you mean the wrong one?" "0 Lord!" 
 " Some one else was beaten to death too ! " "They say he just 
 escaped with his life ! " " Oh, what people ! " " Ain't it a 
 sin to be afraid of ? " These remarks were made by the same 
 men, as with painfully pitiful faces they looked at the dead 
 
 body with the face smeared with blood and begrimed with 
 dust, and the long, slender neck half hacked off. 
 
 A zealous police chinovnik, thinking it unbecoming to have 
 a corpse encumbering his excellency's yard, ordered the dra- 
 goons to drag it forth into the street. Two dragoons seized 
 the body by the mutilated legs and hauled it out. The blood- 
 stained, dust-begrimed, dead, shaven head, rolling on the long 
 neck, was dragged along thumping upon the ground. The 
 mob surged away from the corpse. 
 
 At the moment that Yereshchagin fell, and the mob with a 
 savage yell burst forward and rushed over him, Kostopchin 
 turned suddenly pale, and, instead of going to the rear stairs, 
 where his horses were waiting for him, he, without knowing
 
 374 -WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 where or wherefore, started with sunken head and swift steps 
 along the corridor that led to the rooms on the ground floor. 
 The "count's face was pallid, and he could not keep his lower 
 jaw from trembling as though he had an ague. 
 
 " Your illustriousiiess, this way where are you going ? 
 this way if you please ! " exclaimed a trembling, frightened 
 voice behind him. 
 
 Count Rostopchin was in no condition to answer, and, obedi- 
 ently wheeling about, he took the direction whither he was 
 called. At the rear entrance stood his calash. Even here the 
 distant roar of the excited mob reached his ears. Count Ros- 
 topchin hastily sprang into the carriage, and ordered the 
 coachman to drive to his suburban house at Sokolniki. 
 
 When they reached the Miasnitskaya, and the yells of the 
 mob were no longer heard, the count began to feel qualms of 
 conscience. He remembered now with dissatisfaction the 
 excitement and terror which he had displayed before his 
 subordinates. "La populace est terrible, elle est hideuse" he 
 said to himself in French. " Us sont comme les loups qu'on ne 
 pent apaiser qu'avec de la chair they are like wolves, which 
 can only be appeased with flesh." 
 
 " Count, there is one God over us ! " Vereshchagm's words 
 suddenly recurred to him, and a disagreeable feeling of chill 
 ran down his back. But this feeling was only momentary, 
 and Count Rostopchin smiled a scornful smile at himself. 
 
 " I had other obligations," he said to himself. " The people 
 had to be appeased. Many other victims have perished, and 
 are perishing for the public weal." * 
 
 And he began to consider the general obligation which he 
 had toward his family, the capital committed into his keeping, 
 and his own safety not as Feodor Vasilyevitch Rostopchin 
 he understood that Feodor Vasilyevitch Rostopchin would 
 sacrifice himself for the bien publique but as the governor- 
 general and the repositary of power, and the authorized repre- 
 sentative of the tsar. 
 
 "If I were only Feodor Vasilyevitch, ma ligne de conduite 
 autrait ete tout autrement tra$e but as I was, I was in duty 
 bound to preserve my life and the dignity of the governor- 
 general." 
 
 Slightly swaying on the easy springs of his equipage, ana 
 no longer hearing the terrible sounds of the mob, Rostopchin 
 grew calmer physically, and, as always happens, simultaneously 
 
 * " J'avais d'autres devoirs. 11 fallait apaiser le peuple. Bien d'autres 
 victimes ont peri et pe'rissent pour le bien publique."
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 375 
 
 as physical calm returned his reason furnished him arguments 
 for moral tranquillity. 
 
 The idea that soothed Rostopchin was not new. Never 
 since the world began and people began to slaughter one 
 another has man committed crime against his fellow without 
 soothing himself with this idea. This idea is le bien publique 
 the hypothetical weal of other men. 
 
 The man not carried away by his passions never knows 
 what this weal is, but the man who had committed a crime 
 always knows very well what constitutes it. And Rostopchin 
 now knew. 
 
 He not only did not reproach himself for what he had done, 
 but he even found reason for self-congratulation that he had so 
 happily succeeded in taking advantage of this fortuitous cir- 
 cumstance for punishing a criminal, and at the same time paci- 
 fying the mob. 
 
 " Vereshchagin was tried and condemned to death," said 
 Rostopchin to himself though Vereshchagin had only been 
 condemned by the Senate to the galleys. " He was a traitor 
 and a spy ; I could not leave him unpunished, and, besides, I 
 killed two birds with one stone Jefaisais d'une pierre deux 
 coups. I offered a victim to pacify the people, and I punished 
 an evil-doer." 
 
 By the time he reached his suburban house, and began 
 to make his domestic arrangements, he had become perfectly 
 calm. 
 
 At the end of half an hour the 'count was driving behind 
 swift horses across the Sokolnichye Pole, with his mind per- 
 fectly oblivious to what had happened, and thinking only of 
 events to come. He was on his way now to the Yauzsky 
 bridge, where he had been told Kutuzof was to be found. 
 
 Count Rostopchin was preparing mentally the angry and 
 caustic reproaches with which he intended to load Kutuzof for 
 deceiving him so. He would give that old court fox to under- 
 stand that the responsibility for all the misfortunes which 
 would flow from the abandonment of the capital, from the de- 
 struction of Russia (as Rostopchin supposed it to be), would 
 redound upon hi's old gray head, which was so entirely lacking 
 in brains. While Rostopchin was thinking over what he 
 should say to him, he angrily straightened himself up in his 
 calash and looked fiercely about him on all sides. 
 
 The Sokolnichye Pole was deserted. Only at one end, near 
 the poor-house and lunatic asylum, could be seen a few groups 
 of men in white raiment and several solitaries of the same
 
 376 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 sort, who were hastening across the " field," shouting some- 
 thing and gesticulating. 
 
 One of these men ran so as to cut off Count Rostopchin's 
 calash. The count and his coachman and the dragoons all 
 gazed with a dull sense of terror and curiosity at these liber- 
 ated lunatics, and especially at the one who was running 
 toward them. 
 
 The lunatic, unevenly bounding along on his long, thin legs, 
 and with his white khalat flying out behind him, was running 
 with all his might, not taking his eyes from the count, yelling 
 something in a hoarse voice and signalling for the carriage 
 to stop. His gloomy and impassioned face, overgrown with 
 uneven blotches of beard, was haggard and sallow. His dark, 
 agate-colored eyes, with their saffron whites, rolled frenziedly. 
 
 " Stop ! Hold on, I say ! " he cried in piercing tones, and 
 panting he began again to shout with extravagant intonations 
 and gestures. 
 
 He came up with the calash, and ran along by the side of it. 
 
 "Thrice have they killed me, thrice have I risen from the 
 dead. They have stoned me, they have crucified me. I shall 
 rise again I shall rise again I shall rise again. They 
 have torn my body to pieces. They have overthrown the 
 kingdom of God. Thrice shall I tear it down, and thrice shall 
 I build it again ! " he yelled, raising his voice higher and higher. 
 
 Count Rostopchin suddenly paled, just as he had paled 
 when the mob threw itself on Vereshchagin. He looked 
 away. "Dri drive faster!" he called to the coachman in 
 a trembling voice. The calash sprang forward with all the 
 speed of the horses, but still for a long time the count could 
 hear, growing more and more distant, that senseless, despairing 
 cry, while before his eyes all he could see was the amazedly 
 frightened, bloody face of the "traitor" in the fur tulupchik. 
 
 This vision was now so vivid that Rostopchin felt it was 
 deeply etched into the very substance of his heart. He now 
 clearly realized that he should never outlive the bloody trace 
 of this recollection, but that, on the contrary, this terrible 
 remembrance, the longer he lived, even to the end of his days, 
 would grow more and more cruel, more painful. 
 
 He heard, so it seemed to him, even now the ring of his own 
 words : " Kill him ! If you don't, you shall answer to me for 
 it with your heads ! " 
 
 "Why did I say those words?" he asked himself, almost 
 despairingly. " I need not have said them," he thought, " and 
 then nothing would have happened."
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 377 
 
 He saw the face of the dragoon who gave the blow change 
 from terror to ferocity, and the glance of silent, timid reproach 
 which that young man in the foxskin tulup gave him 
 
 "But I did it not for myself. I was obliged to perform 
 that part. La plebe, letraitre le bleu publique" he said to 
 himself. 
 
 The troops were still crowding the' bridge over the Yauza. 
 It was sultry. Kutuzof, with contracted brows and in dismal 
 mood, sat on a bench near the bridge, and was playing with 
 his whip in the sand, when a calash drove up to him in hot 
 haste. A man wearing a general's uniform and a plumed hat, 
 and with wandering eyes expressing a mixture of wrath and 
 terror, got out, and, approaching Kutuzof, began to say some' 
 thing to him in French. 
 
 This was Count Rostopchin. 
 
 He told Kutuzof that he had come to him because Moscow 
 and the capital were no more, and the army was all that was left. 
 
 " It would have been different if your serene highness had 
 not told me you would not abandon Moscow without giving 
 battle ; then this would not have happened at all," said he. 
 
 Kutuzof glanced at Rostopchin, and, as though not taking 
 in the full significance of the words addressed to him, he 
 seemed to be exerting all his energies to read the peculiar 
 expression that was written in the face of the man addressing 
 him. 
 
 Rostopchin grew confused, and stopped speaking. Kutuzof 
 shook his head slightly, and, not taking his inquisitive glance 
 from Rostopchin's face, he said in a low tone, "No, we will 
 not give up Moscow without a struggle ! " 
 
 Whether Kutuzof was thinking of something entirely aloof 
 when he said those words, or said them on purpose, knowing 
 their absurdity, at all events Rostopchin made no reply, and 
 hastily turned away from him*. And, strange enough ! the 
 governor-general of Moscow, the haughty Count Rostopchin, 
 taking a whip in his hand, went to the bridge, and began to 
 shout, and hurry along the teams that were blocked together 
 there. 
 
 CHAPTER XXYI. 
 
 AT four o'clock in the afternoon, the troops under Murat 
 entered Moscow. In front rode a detachment of Wiirttemberg 
 hussars ; next followed the King of Naples in person, mounted, 
 and surrounded by a large suite.
 
 378 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 Near the centre of the Arbat, in the vicinity of the church 
 of Nikola Yavlennui,* Murat reined in, and waited for a report 
 from the van as to the state of the city fortress, " le Kremlin" 
 Around Murat gathered a small knot from among the citizens 
 who had remained in Moscow. All gazed with shy perplexity 
 at this long-haired, foreign " nachalnik," so gorgeously bedi- 
 zened with feathers and gold. 
 
 " Say ! that one's their tsar, ain't he ? " queried low voices. 
 
 The interpreter approached the knot of men. 
 
 " Hats off ! " " Hats ! " men were heard in the throng, 
 admonishing one another. The interpreter addressed himself 
 to an old dvornik, and asked if it were far to the Kreml. The 
 dvornik, hearing the strange Polish accent with which the 
 man spoke, and not comprehending that he was speaking to 
 him in Russian, did not understand what was said to him, and 
 slipped behind the others. 
 
 Murat beckoned up the interpreter, and commanded him to 
 ask where the Russian army was. One of the citizens made 
 out what was asked, and several voices suddenly began to 
 reply to the interpreter. A French officer came galloping 
 back from the van, and reported to Murat that the fortress 
 gates were closed, and that probably there was an ambuscade. 
 
 "Very good," said Murat, and, addressing one of the gentle- 
 men of his suite, he commanded him to have four light field- 
 pieces brought up, and to batter down the gates. 
 
 The artillery set forth on the gallop from the column that 
 was just behind Murat, and crossed the Arbat. On reaching 
 the end of the Vozdvizhenka, or Holy -Rood Street, the artil- 
 lery stopped, and deployed on the square. A number of 
 French officers took command of the cannon, aiming them 
 and scrutinizing the Kreml through their field-glasses. 
 
 The bells began to ring for vespers in the Kreml, and this 
 sound startled the French. They supposed that it was an 
 alarm. Several of the infantry soldiers ran toward the 
 Kutafya gates. Beams and planks barricaded the gates. Two 
 musket-shots rang sharply out from behind the gates as soon 
 as the officer and his detachment started to approach. The 
 general, standing by the cannon, shouted some command to 
 the officer, and the officer and one of the soldiers hastened 
 back. Three more musket-shots rang out from the gates. 
 One shot wounded a French soldier in the leg, and a strange 
 yell from many throats was heard behind the barricade. From 
 the faces of the French general, officers, and men =* sjjnul- 
 * gt, Nicholas of the Miraculous Apparitiofi,
 
 WAR ANT) PP. ACE. 379 
 
 taneously, as though at word of command, vanished their 
 former expression of gayety and calm, and in its place came 
 an obstinate, concentrated expression of readiness for battle 
 and suffering. For all of them, from marshal down to the 
 most insignificant soldier, this place was no longer the Vozd- 
 vizhenka, Mokhovaya, Kutafya, and Troitskiya Gates, but it 
 was the new locality of a new battle-field, in all probability 
 destined to be deluged with blood ; and all prepared for this 
 battle. 
 
 The yells from the gates ceased. The cannon were pointed. 
 The artillerists blew up their lighted slow-matches. The 
 officer gave the command : feu ! fire ! and two hissing sounds 
 of canister-shot followed one after the other. The grape clat- 
 tered on the stones of the gateway, on the beams and the 
 barricade, and two puffs of smoke floated away over the square. 
 
 A few seconds later, when the echoes of the reports had 
 died out along the stone walls of the Kreml, a strange noise 
 was heard over the heads of the French. An enormous flock 
 of jackdaws arose above the walls, and cawing, and flapping 
 their countless wings, circled around in the air. At the same 
 instant a single human yell was heard in the gates, and through 
 the smoke appeared the figure of a hatless man in a kaftan. 
 He held a musket, and aimed it at the French. "Feu!" 
 cried the artillery officer a second time, and at exactly the 
 same instant rang out one musket-shot and two cannon-shots. 
 
 Smoke again concealed the gates. 
 
 Behind the barricade no one any longer moved, and the 
 French infantry soldiers and their officers again approached 
 the gates. At the gates lay three men wounded and four 
 dead. Two men in kaftans were in full flight down along the 
 walls to Znamenka. 
 
 " Enlevez-moi $a Clear 'em away," said the officer, indi- 
 cating the beams and the corpses ; and the French, finishing 
 the wounded, flung the corpses down behind the fence. "En- 
 levez-moi $a " was all that was said about them, and they were 
 flung away, and afterwards were removed so as not to foul the 
 air. Only Thiers consecrates to their memory a few eloquent 
 lines : 
 
 " These wretches had taken possession cf the sacred stronghold, seized 
 fire-arms from the arsenal, and attacked the French. A few of them were 
 put to the sword, and the Kreml was purged of their presence." * 
 
 * " Ces miserables avaient envahi la citadelle sacree, s'etaient emparg des 
 fusils de V arsenal, et tiraient (ces miserables) siir lesfrancais. On en sabra 
 quelques-ims, et onpurgea le Kremlin de leur presence,"
 
 380 WAR AND PEACto. 
 
 Murat was informed that the way was clear. The French 
 poured through the gates, and began to set up their camp in 
 the Senatskaya Square. The soldiers flung chairs out of the 
 windows of the Senate House into the square, and used them 
 as fuel for their fires. 
 
 Other divisions crossed through the Kreml, and took up 
 their stations along the Moroseika, Lubyanka, Pokrovka. Still 
 others settled themselves in the Vozdvizhenka, Znamenka, 
 Nlkolskaya, and Tverskaya, Finding nowhere any houses 
 open to them, the French quartered themselves, not as they 
 usually would in a city, but, as it were, formed a camp inside 
 the city limits. 
 
 The French, though ragged, hungry, weary, and reduced to 
 one-half of their original numbers, entered Moscow in regular 
 military order. It was a jaded, exhausted, but still martial 
 and redoubtable army. 
 
 But such it was only until that moment when the soldiers 
 of that army were distributed in their lodgings. As soon as 
 the men of the various regiments began to scatter among the 
 rich and deserted mansions, then the martial quality disap- 
 peared forever, and the men were neither converted into citi- 
 zens, nor retained their character as soldiers, but changed into 
 something betwixt and between, called marauders. 
 
 When, five weeks later, these same men inarched out of 
 Moscow, they were still no longer troops. They were a throng 
 of marauders, each one of whom brought or carried away 
 with him a quantity of articles which seemed to him precious 
 or necessary. 
 
 The object of each of these men, as they left Moscow, was 
 not, as formerly, to prove themselves warriors, but to preserve 
 what they had obtained. Like the monkey which has thrust 
 its paw into the narrow neck of the jug, and grasped a hand- 
 ful of nuts, and will not open its fist lest it lose its prize, thus 
 destroying itself, the French, on leaving Moscow, were evi- 
 dently doomed to perish, in consequence of lugging their 
 plunder with them, since to relinquish what they had taken as 
 plunder was as impossible as it was impossible for the mon- 
 key to let go of its handful of nuts. 
 
 Ten minutes after each regiment of the French host made 
 its entry into any given quarter of Moscow, there was not 
 left a single soldier or officer. Men in capotes and gaiters 
 could be seen in the windows of the houses, boldly exploring 
 the rooms. In cellars and storerooms, the same men were 
 making free with provisions and stores. In the yards the
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 381 
 
 same men were tearing open or breaking down the barn and 
 stable doors. They kindled fires in kitchens, and with sleeves 
 rolled up they baked, kneaded, and cooked, they frightened or 
 confused or wheedled women and children. There were a 
 host of these men everywhere in the shops and in the houses ; 
 but army there was none. 
 
 On that day, order after order was issued by the French 
 commanders, with the object of preventing the troops from scat- 
 tering about through the city stern rescripts against offering 
 violence to the inhabitants, or marauding, and insisting upon 
 a general roll call at evening, but, in spite of such precautions, 
 the men, who just before had constituted an army, wandered 
 about through the rich, deserted city, which still abounded in 
 comforts and enjoyments. 
 
 As a famished herd of cattle go huddled together over a 
 barren field, but instantly become uncontrollable and scatter as 
 soon as they come into rich pasture lands, so did this army 
 separate and scatter irreclaimably through the opulent city. 
 
 There were no citizens in Moscow, and the soldiers were 
 absorbed in it (like water in sand), and, bursting all restraint, 
 radiated out in every direction from the Kreml, which was 
 their first objective point. 
 
 Cavalrymen, coming to some merchant's mansion abandoned 
 with all its treasures, and finding stabling sufficient for their 
 own horses and others besides, nevertheless proceeded to take 
 possession of the one adjoining, because it seemed better still. 
 
 In many cases, a man or group of men would take posses- 
 sion of several houses, and scratch the name of the claimant 
 in chalk on the doors, and quarrel and even come to blows with 
 men of other regiments. 
 
 Such soldiers as failed to find accommodations ran along 
 the streets inspecting the city, and when word was given out 
 that the whole city was abandoned, they made haste to find 
 and take whatever was valuable. 
 
 In the Karetnui Biat, or the carriage mart, there were shops 
 full of equipages ; even the generals crowded here, selecting 
 calashes and coaches. 
 
 Such inhabitants as were left invited the French command- 
 ers to lodge in their houses, thereby hoping to escape from 
 being plundered. 
 
 There was an abundance of wealth, and there seemed to be 
 no end to it. Everywhere, in a circle from the place first 
 occupied by the French, there were places, as yet unknown 
 and unexplored, where, as it seemed to the French, there must
 
 382 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 be still greater riches. And Moscow even more and more 
 absorbed them into itself. Just as the consequence of 
 pouring water upon dry earth is that the water disappears 
 and the dry earth as well, so in exactly the same way the 
 consequence of a hungry army pouring into a well-furnished, 
 abandoned city was its destruction, and the destruction of the 
 opulent city, and filth follows ; conflagrations and marauding 
 follow. 
 
 The French attributed the burning of Moscow to the sav- 
 age patriotism of Rostopchin au pair lot is me feroce de Ros~ 
 topchine, the Russians, to the savagery of the French. In 
 last analysis, responsibility for the burning of Moscow was 
 not due and cannot be attributed to any one person or to any 
 number of persons. 
 
 Moscow was burned because it was in a condition when 
 every city built of wood must burn, independently of the 
 question whether they had or had not one hundred and 
 thirty wretched fire-engines. Moscow had to burn because its 
 inhabitants had deserted it, and as inevitably as a heap of 
 shavings, upon which live coals are dropped, must burn. 
 
 A wooden city, which has its conflagrations almost every 
 day in spite of the police aiid the proprietors, careful of their 
 houses, could not fail to burn when the inhabitants were gone 
 and their places taken by soldiers, who smoked their pipes, 
 made camp-fires of senators' chairs in the Senatskaya Square, 
 and cooked their meals there twice a day. 
 
 Even in times of peace, when troops are quartered in vil- 
 lages, the number of fires is immediately increased. How 
 much greater must the probabilities of conflagration be in a 
 deserted city built of wood and occupied by a foreign army ! 
 
 Le patriotisme feroce de Rostopcliine and the savagery of the 
 French were not to blame for this. The burning of Moscow 
 was due to the soldiers' pipes, to the cook-stoves, the camp- 
 fires, to the negligence of hostile troops, when houses were 
 occupied by men not their owners. 
 
 Even if there were incendiaries (which is very doubtful, since 
 there was no reason for setting fires, and such action would 
 have been hard and perilous), they could not be considered as 
 the cause of the conflagration, since it would have taken place 
 without them. 
 
 However flattering it was for the French to blame Rostop- 
 chin's savage patriotism, and for the Russians to blame the 
 villain Bonaparte, or, in later times, to place the heroic torch
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 383 
 
 in the hands of their own people, it is impossible not to see 
 that such an immediate cause of the conflagration had no real 
 existence, because Moscow had to burn, as every town, every 
 factory, and every house, would be burned, when abandoned 
 by its owners, and strangers had taken possession and were 
 cooking their victuals in it. 
 
 Moscow was burned by its citizens, that is true ; not, how- 
 ever, by the citizens who remained, but by those who went 
 away. 
 
 Moscow, occupied by the enemy, did not remain intact like 
 Berlin, Vienna, and other cities, simply because the inhabit- 
 ants did not come forth to offer the French the bread and salt 
 Khlyeb-sol of hospitality, and the keys of the city, but 
 . left it. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 THE soakiny-viip of the French into Moscow, spreading out 
 star-wise, reached the quarter where Pierre was now living, 
 only in the evening of September 14. 
 
 After the two days which Pierre had spent, solitary, and in 
 such an unusual manner, he had got into a state of mind that 
 bordered on insanity. His whole being was possessed by one 
 importunate idea. He himself knew not how or when it came 
 about, but this idea had such mastery of him that he remem- 
 bered nothing of the past, had no comprehension of the present, 
 and what he saw and heard seemed as though it had happened 
 in a dream. 
 
 Pierre had left his home simply and solely to escape from 
 the complicated coil of social demands which held him, and 
 from which he could not, in his situation at the time, tear him- 
 self away. He had gone to losiph Alekseyevitch's house 
 ostensibly to arrange the late owner's books and papers, and 
 simply because he was in search of some alleviation from the 
 demands of life ; and his recollections of losiph Alekseyevitch 
 were connected in his mind with that world of eternal, tran- 
 quil, and solemn thoughts which were diametrically opposed to 
 the confused coil in which he felt himself entangled. 
 
 He sought a quiet refuge, and actually found it, in losiph 
 Alekseyevitch's library. When, in the dead silence of the 
 room, he sat down and leaned his elbows on his late friend's 
 dust-covered writing-table, the recollections of the last few 
 days began one by one to rise before him, calmly, and in their 
 proper significance, especially that of the battle- of Borodino,
 
 3g4 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 and that irresistible sense of his own insignificance and false- 
 ness in comparison with the truth, simplicity, and forceful- 
 ness which had so impressed him in that class of men he 
 called They. 
 
 When Gerasim aroused him from his brown study, the 
 thought occurred to Pierre that he was to take a part in the 
 supposed popular defence of Moscow. And, with this end in 
 view, he had immediately sent Gerasim to procure for him a 
 kaftan and pistol, and explained to him his intention of con- 
 cealing his identity and remaining in losiph Alekseyevitch's 
 house. 
 
 Afterwards, in the course of the first day spent alone and 
 idly, for, though he several times tried, he could not 
 put his mind on the Masonic manuscripts, the thought of 
 the cabalistic significance of his name in connection with that 
 of Bonaparte's occurred vaguely to him : but this thought which 
 he had before conceived, that VRusse Besuhof was predestined 
 to overthrow the power of the Beast, now came to him only as 
 one of the illusions which thronged his imagination, without 
 logical connection, and vanished without leaving any trace. 
 
 When, after the purchase of the kaftan, with the purpose 
 merely of taking part in the popular defence of Moscow, 
 Pierre met the Eostof s, and Natasha had said to him : " You 
 are going to remain ? Akh ! How nice ! " the thought had 
 flashed through his mind that truly it would be nice, even if 
 Moscow were captured, for him to remain in Moscow and fulfil 
 his predestination. 
 
 On the following day, with the sole idea not to spare him- 
 self, and not to keep aloof from anything in which they took 
 part, he went to the Tri Gorui barrier. But when he reached 
 home again, convinced that no attempt was to be made to 
 defend Moscow, the consciousness suddenly came over him 
 that what had hitherto seemed merely a possibility had now 
 become absolutely imperative and unavoidable. It was his 
 duty to remain in Moscow incognito, to fire at Napoleon and 
 to kill him : either he must perish himself, or put an end 
 to the misery which afflicted all Europe, and was caused, as 
 Pierre reasoned, by Napoleon alone. 
 
 Pierre knew all the particulars of the German student's 
 attempts on Bonaparte's life in Vienna in 1809, and he was 
 aware that the student had been shot. And the danger to 
 which he was about to expose his life in carrying out his 
 purpose filled him with still stronger zeal. 
 
 Two feelings of equal intensity irresistibly attracted Pierre
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 385 
 
 to execute his project. The first was the feeling that sacrifice 
 and suffering were demanded from him as a penalty for the 
 consciousness of the general wretchedness that feeling 
 which, on the seventh, had impelled him to go to Mozhaisk 
 and even into the very thick of the conflict, and now drove 
 him from his home to sleep 011 a hard sofa, and to share 
 Gerasim's meagre fare, instead of enjoying the luxuries to 
 which he was accustomed. 
 
 The second was that vague, exclusively Russian scorn for all 
 things conventional, artistic, human, for all that is counted 
 by the majority of men to be the highest good in the world. 
 
 It was in the Slobodsky palace that Pierre had for the first 
 time in his life experienced this strange and bewitching feel- 
 ing, when he suddenly arrived at the consciousness that wealth 
 and power and life everything that men arrange and cherish 
 with such passionate eagerness, even if it is worth anything 
 are of no consequence compared to the enjoyment which is the 
 concomitant of their sacrifice. 
 
 It is this feeling that impels the volunteer to drink up his 
 last kopek, the drunkard to smash mirrors and glasses with- 
 out any apparent cause, although he knows that it will cost 
 him his last coin to pay for them ; the feeling which impels 
 a man, committing (in the common acceptation of the word) 
 crazy actions, to put forth all his personal force and strength, 
 thereby testifying to the existence of a higher justice outside 
 of human conditions and ruling life. 
 
 From that very day when Pierre for the first time experienced 
 this feeling in the Slobodsky palace, he had been constantly 
 under its influence ; but now only he found full satisfaction 
 for it. Moreover, at the present moment, Pierre was kept up 
 to his intention, and deprived of the possibility of renouncing 
 it, by what he had already done in that direction. His flight 
 from home, and his kaftan, and his pistol, and his announce- 
 ment to the Rostofs that he should stay in Moscow, all would 
 be meaningless nay, it would be contemptible and ridicu- 
 lous Pierre knew that by instinct if, after all, he should 
 do what the others had done, and leave Moscow. 
 
 Pierre's physical condition, as was always the case, corre- 
 sponded with his mental. The coarse, unusual beverages 
 which he had been drinking those days, the abstinence from 
 wine and cigars, the dirty, unchanged linen, the two almost 
 sleepless nights which he had spent on the short, pillow- 
 less sofa, all this had reduced Pierre to a state akin to 
 lunacy. 
 
 VOL. 3. 25.
 
 386 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 It was already two o'clock in the afternoon, and the French 
 had entered Moscow. Pierre knew it, but, instead of acting, 
 he thought only of his enterprise, considering all its minutest 
 details. In his imagination he did not dwell with such keen- 
 ness of vision on the act itself of firing the shot, or upon the 
 death of Napoleon, but he imagined with extraordinary vivid- 
 ness, and with a melancholy delight, his own ruin and his heroic 
 courage. 
 
 " Yes, one for all ! I must accomplish it or perish ! " he 
 said to himself. " Yes, I Avill go up to him and then sud- 
 denly with a pistol or would not a dagger be better ? " 
 mused Pierre. " However, it is immaterial. ' Not I, but the 
 hand of Providence punishes tliee ! ' I will exclaim." Pierre 
 was rehearsing the words which he should utter as he killed 
 Napoleon. " ' Well, then, take me, punish me,' " Pierre went 
 on to say, still further imagining the scene, and drooping his 
 head with a melancholy but firm expression of countenance. 
 
 While Pierre, standing in the middle of the room, was thus 
 musing, the library door was suddenly flung open, and the 
 figure of Makar Alekseyevitch appeared on the threshold, 
 absolutely changed from his former attitude of wild shyness. 
 
 His khalat was flung open. His face was flushed and dis- 
 torted. He was evidently drunk. Seeing Pierre, he was for 
 the first moment confused ; but, remarking signs of confusion 
 in Pierre, he immediately expressed his satisfaction, and came 
 into the middle of the room, tottering on his thin legs. 
 
 " They're scared ! " he exclaimed in a hoarse, confidential 
 voice. " I tell you : l We won't surrender.' That's what I 
 say Bight ? Hey, mister?" He deliberated for a mo- 
 ment ; then, suddenly catching sight of the pistol on the table, 
 he grasped it with unexpected quickness and ran into the 
 corridor. 
 
 Gerasim and the dvornik, who had followed at Makar Alek- 
 seyevitch's heels, stopped him in the entry and tried to take 
 away the pistol. Pierre came out into the corridor, and looked 
 with pity and disgust on the half-witted old man. Makar 
 Alekseyevitch, scowling with the effort, clung to the pistol, 
 and screamed in his hoarse voice something that he evidently 
 considered very solemn. 
 
 " To arms ! Board 'em ! * You lie ! you sha'n't have it," he 
 yelled. 
 
 " There, please, that'll do. Have the goodness to put it up, 
 please. Now please, barin, " said Gerasim, cautiously 
 * No. abordage !
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 387 
 
 taking Makar Alekseyevitch by the elbows and trying to force 
 him back to the door. 
 
 " Who are you ? Bonaparte ? " screamed Makar Alekse- 
 yitch. 
 
 " That is not right, sir. Please come into your room ; you 
 are all out of breath. Please let me have the pistol." 
 
 " Away with you, you scurvy slave ! Touch me not ! Do 
 you see this ! " yelled Makar Alekseyitch, brandishing the pis- 
 tol. " Board 'em ! " 
 
 "Look out!" whispered Gerasim to the dvornik. They 
 seized Makar Alekseyitch by the arms and dragged him to the 
 door. 
 
 The room was filled with the confused sounds of the scuffle 
 and the hoarse, drunken sounds of the panting voice. 
 
 Suddenly a new and penetrating scream of a woman was 
 heard from the steps, and the cook ran into the entry. 
 
 " Here they are ! Oh, ye saints of my sires ! ! ! Oh, God ! 
 here they are ! Four of them on horseback ! " she cried. 
 
 Gerasim and the dvornik let go of Makar Alekseyitch's 
 arms, and in the silence which suddenly ensued the pounding 
 of several hands was heard on the outside door. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 PIERRE, deciding for himself that, until the time came for 
 the fulfilment of his project, it was best not to disclose his 
 identity, or his knowledge of French, stood in the half-opened 
 door leading into the corridor, intending instantly to go and 
 hide himself as soon as the French entered. But the French 
 came in, and Pierre had not stirred from the door : an indefin- 
 able curiosity seized him. 
 
 There were two of them. One was an officer, tall, gallant- 
 looking, and handsome ; the other evidently a soldier, or his 
 servant, short and stubbed, lean and sunburned, with sunken 
 cheeks and a stupid expression of face. The officer, resting 
 his weight on a cane, and limping a little, came forward. 
 Having advanced a few steps, the officer, as though deciding 
 that the rooms were good, halted, and turned round to some 
 soldiers who appeared in the doorway, and in a tone of com- 
 mand shouted to them -to bring in their horses. Having 
 attended to this, the officer, with a gallant gesture, lifting high 
 his elbow, twisted his mustache and then touched his cap :
 
 388 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 " Bonjour la compagnie / " lie cried cheerily with a smile 
 and glancing round. 
 
 No one made any answer. 
 
 " Vous etes le bourgeois? Are you the master of the 
 house ? " asked the officer, addressing Gerasim. Gerasim, with 
 a scared, questioning look, stared at the officer. 
 
 " Quarteer, quarteer logenient ! " exclaimed the officer, sur- 
 veying the little man from top to toe, with a condescending 
 and benevolent smile: ''The French are jolly boys. Que 
 diable ! Voyons ! Don't get touchy, old man ! " he added, 
 slapping the startled and silent Gerasim on the shoulder. " A 
 pa ! Dites done, on ne parle done franpais dans cette bou- 
 tique ?'' he added, glancing around and catching Pierre's eyes 
 as he slunk aside from the door. 
 
 The officer again addressed himself to Gerasim. He tried 
 to make the old man show him the rooms in the house. 
 
 " Barin gone No understand ! my you your " 
 stammered Gerasim, striving to make his words more compre- 
 hensible by speaking in broken Russian. 
 
 The French officer, with a smile, waved his hands in front of 
 Gerasim's nose, giving him to understand that he did not 
 understand him, and he limped again to the door where Pierre 
 was standing. Pierre started to go away in order to hide 
 from him, but just at that instant he saw through the open 
 door of the kitchen Makar Alekseyitch peering out, with the 
 pistol in his hand. With the cunningness of a madman, 
 Makar Alekseyitch gazed at the Frenchman, and, raising the 
 pistol, aimed : 
 
 "Board ; em!" cried the drunken man and cocked the pistol. 
 
 The Frenchman, hearing the shout, turned round, and at that 
 instant Pierre flung himself on the drunkard. But, before 
 Pierre had time to seize and throw up the pistol, Makar 
 Alekseyitch got his fingers on the cock and a sharp report 
 rang out, deafening them all and filling the passage with gun- 
 powder smoke. The Frenchman turned pale and sprang back 
 to the door. 
 
 Pierre seized the pistol and flung it away and ran after the 
 officer, and (then forgetting his intention of not revealing his 
 knowledge of French) began to speak with him in French. 
 
 " You are not wounded ? " he asked with solicitude. 
 
 "I think not," replied the officer, examining himself. " But 
 I had a narrow escape that time," he added, pointing at the 
 broken plastering on the wall. " Who is that man ? " he de- 
 manded, giving Pierre a stern look.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 389 
 
 " I am really greatly distressed at what has just happened," 
 said Pierre, speaking fluently, and entirely forgetting the part 
 he was going to play. " He is crazy, an unfortunate man who 
 did not know what he was doing." * 
 
 The officer turned to Makar Alekseyitch and seized him by 
 the collar. Makar Alekseyitch, thrusting out his lips, swayed 
 as though he were sleepy and stood leaning against the wall. 
 
 " Brigand ! you shall answer for this ! " said the Frenchman, 
 taking off his hand. " It's in our nature to be merciful after 
 victory, but we do not forgive traitors," he added with a look 
 of gloomy solemnity on his face, and with a graceful, ener- 
 getic gesture. 
 
 Pierre continued in French to urge the officer not to be too 
 hard on this half-witted drunkard. The Frenchman listened 
 in silence, without a change in his scowling face, then sud- 
 denly turned to Pierre with a smile. He looked at him 
 for a few seconds without speaking. His handsome face as- 
 sumed a tragically sentimental expression, and he held out his 
 hand : " Vous m'avez sauve la vie ! Vous etes francais ! " he 
 said. For a Frenchman this inference was beyond question. 
 To do a magnanimous action was alone possible to a French- 
 man, and to save the life of Monsieur Ramball, capitaine du 
 13 me leger, was unquestionably the greatest deed of all. 
 
 But, reasonable as this inference was or the conviction 
 which the officer based upon it, Pierre felt it incumbent upon 
 him to disclaim it. 
 
 " Je suis russe" he said rapidly. 
 
 " Tititi ! tell that to others," said the Frenchman, smiling 
 and raising a warning finger. " By and by you can tell me 
 all about it. Charme de rencontrer un compatriote. Eh Men ! 
 What shall we do with this man ? " he added, already address- 
 ing Pierre as though he were his brother. 
 
 Even if Pierre were not a Frenchman, having once granted 
 him that appellation, the highest in the world, he could 
 never disavow it, said the French officer's whole tone, and the 
 expression of his face. 
 
 In reply to the last question, Pierre once more explained 
 who Makar Alekseyitch was, explained that just before their 
 arrival this witless drunkard had got hold of the loaded pistol, 
 and they had just been trying to get it .away from him; 
 
 * " Vous ri'etes pas blesse ?" "Je crois que non, mais je Vai manque belle 
 cette fois-ci. Quel est cet homme ?" " Ah, je suis vraiment au desespoir de 
 ce qui vient d'arriver. West unfou, un malheureux qui ne savait pas ce qu'il 
 faisait."
 
 390 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 finally, he begged him to let this matter go without punishing 
 him. 
 
 The Frenchman swelled out his chest and made a regal 
 gesture with his hand : 
 
 " Vous m'auez sauue la vie. Vous etes franqais. Vous de- 
 mandez sa <jru.ce? Je vous Vaccorde. Qu'on emmene cet 
 hommef Take this man away ! " exclaimed the French officer 
 rapidly and energetically, and, linking his arm with that of 
 Pierre, the man whom for having saved his life he admitted 
 into fellowship with the French, he went with him into the 
 house. 
 
 The soldiers who had been in the dvor when they heard the 
 pistol-shot hastened into the entry, asking what was up, and 
 expressing their readiness to punish the offenders ; but the 
 officer sternly repressed them. 
 
 "You shall be called when you are needed," said he. 
 
 The soldiers flocked out. The man who had meantime 
 explored the larder came back to the officer and reported find- 
 ing soup and roast mutton, and asked if he should bring it. 
 
 " Capitaine, Us out de la soupe et da (jiyot de mouton dans la 
 cuisine" said he. "Faut-il vous Vapporter?" 
 
 "Oui, et le vin! " said the captain. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 As the French officer and Pierre went in together, Pierre 
 felt that it was his duty once more to assure the captain 
 that he was not French and he wanted to go, but the French 
 officer would not even hear to such a thing. He was so 
 extremely polite, courteous, and good-natured, and so genuinely 
 grateful for having had his life preserved, that Pierre had not 
 the heart to refuse him, and therefore sat down with him in 
 the drawing-room, which happened to be the first which they 
 entered. 
 
 At Pierre's asseveration that he was not a Frenchman, the 
 captain, evidently not comprehending how it could enter the 
 heart of man to -efuse such a flattering designation, shrugged 
 his shoulders, ana declared that if he were resolutely bent 011 
 passing for a Russian, he might do so, but still, nevertheless, 
 he was eternally bound to him by the feeling of gratitude for 
 saving his life. 
 
 If this man had been gifted with the slightest capacity for 
 entering into the feelings of others, and had guessed Pierre's
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 391 
 
 sentiments, Pierre would undoubtedly have left him, but this 
 man's impermeability to everything except his own personality 
 quite won Pierre. 
 
 tt f t ranfais;ou prince russe incognito" said the Frenchman, 
 scrutinizing Pierre's tine but soiled linen, and the ring on his 
 finger, " I owe you my life, and I offer you my friendship. A 
 Frenchman never forgets an insult or a favor. That is all I 
 have to say." 
 
 In the tones of this officer's voice, in the expression of his 
 face, in his gestures, there was so much affability and good- 
 breeding (in the French .use of the terms), that Pierre, giving 
 back unconsciously smile for smile, pressed the proffered 
 hand. " Captaine Ramball du 13 me leger, devore pour V affaire 
 du 19'" e ," he went on to say, introducing himself with a smile 
 of exuberant self-satisfaction curling his lips under his mus- 
 taches. "Would you not tell me, now, with whom I have 
 the honor of conversing so agreeably, instead of being in the 
 ambulance with that idiot's pistol ball in me ? " * 
 
 Pierre replied that he could not tell him his name, and 
 reddened as he tried to think of some name, to invent some 
 reason for not giving his own ; but the Frenchman made haste 
 to relieve him. 
 
 " I beg of you ! " said he. " I appreciate your scruples : you 
 are an officer an officer of rank, perhaps. You have borne 
 arms against us it is not my affair. I owe my life to 
 you. That is enough for me. I am wholly at your service. 
 You are a gentleman ? " he added, with just a shade of 
 question. 
 
 Pierre nodded assent. 
 
 " Your given name, please ; I ask nothing more. Monsieur 
 Pierre, you say excellent ! That is all that I wish to 
 know." f 
 
 When the mutton and omelet, the samovar, vodka, and 
 wine which the French had obtained from a Russian cellar 
 were brought, Ramball invited Pierre to share in this repast, 
 and instantly he himself fell to, ravenously and hastily attack- 
 ing the viands like a healthy hungry man, chewing lustily 
 
 * " Voudrez-vous bien me dire a present, a quij'ai I'honneurdeparleraussi 
 agreablement au lieuderester a I'ambnlence avec la balle de cefou dans le 
 corps ? " 
 
 t " De grace. Je comprends tos raisons ; vous etes officier officier supe'r- 
 ieur, peut-etre. Vous avez porte les armes contre nous. Ce n'est pas mon 
 affaire. Je vous dots la vie. Cela me sitffit. Je suis tout a vous. Vous etes 
 yentilhomme? Votre noni de bapteme, ' s'il vous plait. Je ne demande pas 
 davantage. Monsieur Pierre, dites-vous parfait ! C'est tout ce que je 
 de'sire savoir"
 
 
 392 fl^# AND PEACE. 
 
 with his sound, strong teeth, constantly smacking his lips, and 
 exclaiming, " Excellent, exquis ! " 
 
 His face grew flushed and sweaty. Pierre was hungry, and 
 participated with great satisfaction in this dinner. 
 
 Morel, the servant, brought a sauce-pan full of warm water, 
 and set in it a bottle of red wine. He also brought a bottle 
 of kvas which lie had found in the kitchen, and wanted to 
 experiment with. 
 
 This beverage was already known to the French and had 
 received a name. They called kvas limona.de de cochon, 
 pig's lemonade, and Morel had taken possession of this 
 limonade de cochon which he had found in the kitchen. 
 
 But as the capitaine possessed wine that had been plun- 
 dered somewhere as he passed through the city, he left the 
 kvas to Morel, and devoted himself to a bottle of Bordeaux. 
 He wrapped the bottle up to the neck in a napkin, and poured 
 the wine out for himself and Pierre. Hunger alleviated and 
 the wine enlivened the captain more and more, and during 
 all the dinner-time he chattered without cessation. 
 
 " Yes, my dear Mr. Pierre, I owe you a handsome taper for 
 having saved me from that that madman. . . . You see I 
 have balls enough in my body as it is. There's one' 7 he 
 touched his side "received at Wagram, and two at Smo- 
 lensk " he indicated the scar on his cheek. "And this leg, 
 you see, can't walk. I received that on the seventh, in the 
 great battle of the Moskva. Ye gods ! that was fine ! You 
 ought to have seen it ! It was a deluge of fire. You blocked 
 out a tough job for us ! I shouldn't blame you for boasting 
 about it ! by the Devil, I shouldn't ! And on my word, in 
 spite of the cold which I took, I should be willing to begin it 
 all over again. I pity those who didn't see it ! " 
 
 " I was there ! " said Pierre. 
 
 " What ! really ? Well, then, so much the better," said the 
 Frenchman. " You are glorious enemies, all the same. The 
 great redoubt held her own, by all the powers. And you 
 made us pay dear for it. I get in it three times, just as sure 
 as you see me. Three times we were right on the guns, and 
 three times we were knocked over like pasteboard soldiers ! 
 Oh, it was fine, Mr. Pierre ! Your grenadiers were superb, 
 by heavens ! Six times running I saw them close up ranks 
 and march out as though they were going to a review ! Fine 
 fellows ! Our king of Naples, who is a perfect dab at such 
 things, cried, ' Bravo ! ' Ah ! ha ! good soldiers quite our 
 match ! " said he with a smile, after a moment's silence.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 393 
 
 " So much the better, so much the better, Mr. Pierre ! Terri- 
 ble in battle . . . gallant with the fair ones ! " he winked 
 and smiled " that's the Frenchman, Mr. Pierre, ain't that 
 so ? " * 
 
 The captain was so naively and good-naturedly jovial, frank, 
 and self-satisfied that Pierre himself almost winked as he 
 looked at him. 
 
 Apparently the word '" gallant " reminded the captain of the 
 state of Moscow. 
 
 "By the way, tell me now, is it true all the ladies have left 
 Moscow ? A strange notion ! What had they to be afraid of ? " 
 
 " Wouldn't the French ladies leave Paris if the Russians 
 marched in ? " retorted Pierre. 
 
 "Ha! ha! ha!" The Frenchman burst into a gay, hearty 
 laugh, and slapped Pierre on the shoulder. " Ah ! that is a good 
 one," he went on to remark. " Par is ? Mais Paris, Paris " 
 
 "Paris la capitale du mondef" said Pierre, finishing his 
 sentence. 
 
 The captain looked at Pierre. It was a habit of his in the 
 Tiiddle of a sentence to hesitate and give one a steady look from 
 his laughing, friendly eyes. 
 
 " There, now, if you had not said that you were Russian, I 
 would have wagered you were Parisian. You have something 
 about you" and, having said this compliment, he again 
 paused and looked. 
 
 "I have been at Paris. I spent some years there," said 
 Pierre. 
 
 "Ah! that is very evident. Paris! A man who doesn't 
 know Paris is a barbarian. You can tell a Parisian by the 
 smell two leagues oft 7 ! Ca se sent a deux lieux. Paris is Talma, 
 
 * " Out, mon cher M. Pierre, je vous dots nne fiere chandelle de in 1 avoir 
 sauve de cet enrage. .Pen di assez, voijez-voiis, de balles dans le corps. 
 En voila nne a Wagram et deux a, Smolensk. Et cetfejambe, comme vous 
 voyez, qui ne vent pas marcher. C'est a la grand? bataille du 1 a la Moscowa 
 que fai recu ca. Sucre Dien, c' eta it beau ! II fallait voir ca ; detail un 
 deluge de feu. Vous nous avez tai/le nne rude besogne ; vouspouvez vous en 
 vanter, nom d'un petit bonhornme .' Et, ma parole, malgre la tonx, que 
 
 pipe 
 
 nous a 1 fait era nement payer. J'y suis alle trois fois, tel que rous me voyez. 
 Troisfois nous e'lions snr les canons et trois fois on nous a cnlbutie et comme 
 des capucins de cartes. Oh ! c'etait s'.iperbe, M. Pierre ! Vos grenadiers ont 
 ete superbes, tonnerre de Dieu ! Je les ai fit six fois de suite serrer les rangs 
 et marcher comme a nne revue. Les beanx hmnmes ! Notre roi de Naples, 
 qiii s'y connait, a crie : ' firavo .' ' Ah ! ah ! sohlats comme nous autres! 
 Tant mieux, tant micnx, M.Pierre! Terribles en batailles yalants. avee 
 les belles, voila les Francais, M> Pierre, n'est ce pus f n
 
 394 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 la Duchesnois, Potier, la Sorbonne, les boulevards ! " and, per- 
 ceiving that his conclusion was somewhat inconsequential, he 
 made haste to add : " There is only one Paris in the world. 
 You have been in Paris, and you remain Russian ! Well, I do 
 not esteem you the less for it." 
 
 Under the influence of the wine which he had drunk, and 
 after the days spent in solitude with his sombre thoughts, 
 Pierre could not help experiencing a certain satisfaction in 
 talking with this jolly and good-tempered gentleman. 
 
 " To return to your ladies : they are said to be pretty. What 
 a crazy notion to go and bury themselves in the steppes, when 
 the French army is at Moscow ! What a chance they have 
 missed! Your muzhiks! that's another thing! but you are 
 civilized beings, and ought to know us better than that. We 
 have captured Vienna, Berlin, Madrid, Naples, Rome, War- 
 saw all the capitals of the world. We are feared, but we 
 are loved. There's no harm in knowing men like us. And 
 then the emperor " he began, but Pierre interrupted him. 
 
 "L'empereur" repeated Pierre, and his face suddenly as- 
 sumed a gloomy expression of confusion " Est ce que Vein- 
 perenr ? '.' 
 
 " The emperor ! He is generosity, clemency, justice, order, 
 and genius itself ! That's what the emperor is ! I, Ramball, 
 tell you so. I, the very person before you, was his enemy 
 eight years ago ! My father was a count and an emigre. 
 Bub this man was tod much for me. He conquered me. I 
 could not resist the spectacle of the glory and grandeur with 
 which he was loading France. When I understood what he 
 wanted, when I saw that he was making a perfect bed of lau- 
 rels for us, do you know, I said to myself : ' There's a sov- 
 ereign for you/ and I gave myself to him. And that's the 
 whole story. Oh, yes, my dear sir, he is the greatest man of 
 the ages past or to come." " 
 
 " Is he at Moscow ? " asked Pierre, stammering, and with 
 a guilty countenance. 
 
 The Frenchman looked at Pierre's guilty face, and smiled. 
 "No: he will make his entrance to-morrow,"* said he, and 
 went on with his stories. 
 
 * " Pour en revenir a vos dames, on les dit Hen belles. Quelle fichue idee, 
 d'aller s'enterrer dans les steppes, quand Varmee francaise est a Moscou / 
 Quelle chance elles ont manque, celles-la ! Vos moujiks, c'est autre chose ," 
 rnais rons autres gens civilises, I'ous devriez nous connaitre mieux que ca. 
 Nous arons pris Vienne, Berlin, Madrid, Naples, Rome, Varsovie toutes 
 les capitales du mo rule. On nous craint, mais on nous aime. Nous sommes 
 a connailre, - Et puis I'empereur. Uempereur! (J'est la generosity
 
 WAR AND PEACE. B95 
 
 Their conversation was interrupted- by a noise of many 
 voices at the gate, and by Morel coming in to explain to the 
 captain that some Wttrttemberg hussars had made their 
 appearance and wanted to stable their horses in the same 
 dvor, which was pre-occupied by the captain's horses. 
 
 The difficulty arose principally from the fact that the hus- 
 sars did not understand what was said to them. 
 
 The captain commanded the old non-commissioned officer 
 to be brought into his presence, and, in a stern voice, he began 
 to question him : To what regiment did he belong ? Who 
 was his chief ? and, By what authority he permitted himself 
 to take possession of quarters that were pre-empted ? 
 
 In reply to the first two questions the German, whose 
 knowledge of French was but slender, named his regiment 
 and his superior, but in reply to the last, which he didn't 
 understand, he began to explain in German interlarded with a 
 few words of broken French, that he was the billeter of his 
 regiment, and that he had been ordered by his colonel to take 
 possession of all the houses in the row. 
 
 Pierre, who knew German, interpreted for the captain what 
 the Wiirttemberger said, and he repeated the captain's answer 
 in German to the hussar. When at last he understood what 
 was meant, the German yielded, and withdrew his men. The 
 captain went to the steps and gave some orders in a loud 
 voice. 
 
 When he returned to the room, Pierre was still sitting in 
 the same place as before, with his hands clasped on top of 
 his head. His face expressed suffering. He was actually 
 suffering at that moment. When the captain went out and 
 Pierre was left alone, he suddenly came to his senses, and 
 realized the position in which he found himself. Cruelly as 
 he felt the fact that Moscow was captured and that these for- 
 tunate victors were making themselves at home in the city, 
 and patronizing him, still it was not this w T hich chiefly tor- 
 mented Pierre at the moment. He was tortured by the 
 consciousness of his own weakness. The few glasses of wine 
 that he had drunk, the conversation with this good-natured 
 
 la cttmence, la justice, Vordre, le genie : voila Vempereur ! C'cst moi, Eam- 
 ball, qui vons le dit. Tel qite vovs me voyez, j'etais son ennemi, il y a encore 
 hint ans. Mon pere a tie comte emit/re. Mais il 111*0. vainctt, cet homme. 
 II ni 1 a empoif/ne. Je n'ai pas pu resisted an spectacle de f/randenr et de yloire 
 dont il convrait la France. Qaand j'ai compris ce qidl voulait, quand fai 
 vti qu'il noitsfaisa.it itne litiere de lanriers, voj/ez-voits,je me suis dit : Voila 
 im soitverain. Et je me snis donne a lui. Oh, oiti, mon ckcr, c'est le plus 
 grand homme des siecles passees et a venir." "Est-il a Moscou ? " " Non, 
 ilfera son entre demain."
 
 396 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 man, had destroyed that darkly determined mood in which 
 Pierre had been living for a day or two, and which was indis- 
 pensable for the fulfilment of his purpose. 
 
 Pistol and dagger and kaftan were ready. Napoleon would 
 make his entree on the morrow. Pierre felt that it was right 
 and profitable to kill .the " evil-doer," but he felt that now he 
 should not accomplish his purpose. 
 
 Why ? 
 
 He knew not, but lie had the presentiment that he should 
 not carry out his intention. He struggled against this con- 
 sciousness of his weakness, but vaguely felt that he should 
 not get the mastery of it, that his former dark thoughts about 
 vengeance, assassination, and self-sacrifice had scattered like 
 dust at the first contact with his fellow-men. 
 
 The captain, slightly limping and whistling some tune, 
 came back into the room. 
 
 The Frenchman's chatter, which had before amused Pierre, 
 now annoyed him. And the tune that he was whistling, and 
 his gait, and his habit of twirling his mustache, all now 
 seemed offensive to Pierre. 
 
 " I will go instantly, I will have nothing more to say to 
 him," thought Pierre. He thought this, but still he kept his 
 seat in the same place. A strange feeling of weakness rooted 
 him to his place : he felt the desire, but he was unable to get 
 up and go. 
 
 The captain, on the contrary, seemed very merry. He 
 paced two or three times up and down the room. His eyes 
 flashed, and his mustaches slightly worked, as though he 
 were smiling all by himself at some merry conceit of his. 
 " Charmant ! " he suddenly exclaimed, " le colonel de ces 
 Wurtembourgeois ! c'est un allemand: mais brave garpon, s'il 
 en fut. Mais allemand / " , 
 
 He sat down opposite Pierre. " Apropos, vous savez done 
 V allemand, vous ? " 
 
 Pierre looked at him and made no reply. 
 
 " Comment dites-vous asile en allemand ? " 
 
 " Asile" repeated Pierre, " asile en allemand ? Unter- 
 kunft ! " 
 
 " Comment dites-vous ? " again asked the captain quickly, 
 with a shade of distrust in his voice. 
 
 " Unterkunft ! " repeated Pierre. 
 
 " Onterkoff," said the captain, and looked at Pierre for sev- 
 eral seconds with mischievous eyes. " Les allemands sont de 
 fibres betes, n'est ce pas, M. Pierre ? " he added by way of con 

 
 WAR AND PEACE. 397 
 
 elusion. " Eh bien, encore une bouteille de ce Bordeau Mosco- 
 vite, rfest ce pas ? Morel ! va nous chauffer encore une petite 
 bouteille) Morel ! " gayly cried the captain. 
 
 Morel brought candles and another bottle of wine. The 
 captain looked at Pierre by the light of the candles, and was 
 evidently struck by his new friend's distracted face. With 
 genuine concern and sympathy expressed in his eyes, he 
 went over to Pierre and bent down over him. 
 
 " Eh bien, nous sommes tristes," said he, touching Pierre's 
 arm. " Have I hurt your feelings ? No, truly, haven't you 
 something against me ? " he insisted. " Perhaps your melan- 
 choly is due to the state of things." 
 
 Pierre made no answer, but looked affectionately into the 
 Frenchman's eyes. This expression of sympathy was grate- 
 ful to him. 
 
 " On my word of honor, without reference to my gratitude 
 to you, I feel a genuine friendship for you. Can I do any- 
 thing for you ? I am entirely at your service. It is for life 
 or for death ! I tell you this with my hand on my heart ! " 
 said he, slapping himself on the chest. 
 
 " No, thank you," said Pierre. 
 
 The captain kept his eyes on him, just as he looked at him 
 when he was learning what the German for " refuge " was, and 
 his face suddenly beamed. 
 
 " Ah ! in that case, I drink to our friendship," he gayly 
 cried, pouring out two glasses of wine. 
 
 Pierre took his, and drained it. Eamball drank his, again 
 pressed Pierre's hand, and then leaned his elbows on the table 
 in thoughtful, melancholy pose : " Yes, my dear friend, see 
 the caprices of fortune ! " he began. " Who would ever have 
 said that I was going to be a soldier and captain of dragoons 
 in the service of Bonaparte, as we called him a little while 
 ago ! And yet, here I am in Moscow with him. I must tell 
 you, my dear fellow," he continued, in the solemn and meas- 
 ured voice of a man who is getting ready to spin a long yarn : 
 "I must tell you our name is one of the most ancient in 
 France " 
 
 And, with the easy-going and simple frankness of a French- 
 man, the captain told Pierre the story of his ancestors, his 
 childhood, youth and manhood, giving all the particulars 
 of his ancestry, his estates, and his relationships. " Ma 
 pauvre mere," of course, played an important role in this 
 story. 
 
 " But all that is only the stage setting of life ; the real
 
 392 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 thing is love. Love ! isn't that so, Mr. Pierre ? " said he, grow- 
 ing more animated. " Have another glass." * 
 
 Pierre drank it up, and poured out for himself still a third 
 glass. 
 
 " Ok, les femmes, les femm.es ! " and the captain, with oily 
 eyes, gazing at Pierre, began to talk about love and about his 
 gallant adventures. He had enjoyed a very great number of 
 them, as it was easy to believe from a glance in the officer's 
 handsome, self-satisfied face, and the enthusiastic eagerness 
 with which he talked about women. 
 
 Although all of Kamball's adventures had that characteristic 
 of vileness in which the French find the exclusive charm and 
 poetry of love, still the captain told his stories with such hon- 
 est conviction that he was the only one who had ever experi- 
 enced and understood all the delights of love, and he gave such 
 alluring descriptions of women, that Pierre listened to him 
 with curiosity. 
 
 It was evident that V amour which the Frenchman so loved 
 was not that low and simple sensual passion which Pierre had 
 once experienced for his wife, nor yet that romantic flame 
 which was kindled in his heart by Natasha both of which 
 kinds of love Bamball held in equal contempt one being, 
 according to him, V amour des c/iarretiers, carters' love, the 
 other, V amour des nigauds booby's love ; V amour which thd 
 Frenchman worshipped consisted pre-eminently in unnatural 
 relations toward women, and in combinations of incongruities 
 which gave the chief charm to the passion. 
 
 Thus the captain related a touching story of his love for a 
 bewitching marquise of thirty-five, and, at the same time, for 
 a charming innocent maiden of seventeen, the daughter of the 
 bewitching marquise. The struggle of magnanimity between 
 mother and daughter, ending with the mother sacrificing her- 
 self and proposing that the daughter should become her 
 lover's wife, even now, though it was a recollection brought 
 up from a long buried past, moved the captain. 
 
 * " Vous ni-je fait cle la peine ? Non, rrai, arez-vous quelque chose contre 
 moi ? Peut-etre rapport a la situation ? Parole d'honneur, sans parler de ce 
 queje vous dois, j'ai de Uamitie. pour vous. Pais-je fa ire quelque chose pour 
 vous? IMsposez de moi! C'est a la vie et a la mo'rt. C'est la main sur le 
 C(Kur que je voiis le dis. r " Merci .' " "Ah .' dans ces cas je bois a noire 
 amitie. Otii, mon cher ami, voila les caprices ds la fortune ! Qui m' await 
 dit queje serai soldat et capitaine de drayon.^ an ssrrice de Bonaparte comme 
 nous Vappellions jadis. Et cependant me rollh a Moscoti aver. lui. Rfa,vtvou9 
 dire, mon cher, que noire norn cst Vun des plus anciens de la France. Mais 
 tout <;a ce n'est que la mis^-en-scene de la vie; le fond c'est Vamour. 
 L'amour ! N'est ce pas, M. Pierre ? Encore un verre .' "
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 399 
 
 Then he related an episode in which the husband played the 
 lover's part, while he the lover played the part of husband, 
 and then several comical episodes from his souvenirs d'Alle- 
 magne, where " asile " was Unterkunft, where les maris man- 
 gent de la choux croute where husbands eat sauerkraut, and 
 where les jeunes filles sont trop blondes ! 
 
 Finally, his latest episode in Poland, which was still fresh 
 in the captain's recollections, for he told it with eager ges- 
 tures and a flushed face, consisted in his having saved a 
 Polyak's life (as a general thing, in the captain's narrations, 
 the episode of life-saving was an important feature), and this 
 Polyak had intrusted to him his most fascinating, bewitching 
 wife " Parisienne de cceur " while he himself entered the 
 French service. The captain was fortunate, the bewitching 
 Pole wanted to run away with him, but, moved by generosity, 
 he had restored the wife to the husband, saying : " Je vous ai 
 sauve la vie etje sauve votre honneur /" In pronouncing these 
 words, the captain rubbed his eyes, and gave himself a little 
 shake, as though to drive away his weakness at such a touch- 
 ing recollection. 
 
 While listening to the captain's yarns, Pierre, as was apt to 
 be the case, late in the evening, and under the influence of the 
 wine, took in all that the captain had to say, comprehended 
 it all, and, at the same time, connected it with a whole series 
 of personal recollections, which somehow suddenly began to 
 rise up in his mind. As he< listened to these stories of love, 
 his own love for Natasha occurred to him, with unexpected 
 suddenness, and as he unrolled, in his imagination, the 
 pictures of this love, he mentally compared them with 
 Ramball's. 
 
 Thus, when he followed that story of the struggle between 
 love and duty, he saw, with wonderful vividness, in all its 
 details, his last meeting with the object of his love, near the 
 Sukharef tower. 
 
 At that time the meeting had not made any special impres- 
 sion upon him ; he had not once since thought of it. But 
 now it seemed to him that this casual meeting had something 
 very significant and poetic. 
 
 " Piotr Kiriluitch ! Come here ! I recognized you ! " 
 
 He now heard her saying those words ; he had before him 
 a vision of her eyes, her smile, her travelling-hood, a lock of 
 hair escaping from it, and something very touching and 
 tender connected itself with the whole scene. 
 
 Having finished his tale about the bewitching Polka, the
 
 400 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 captain asked Pierre if he had ever experienced anything like 
 self-sacrifice for love, or jealousy of a woman's husband. 
 
 Aroused by this question, Pierre raised his head, and felt 
 it incumbent upon him to pour out the thoughts that filled his 
 mind. He began to explain in what a different manner he 
 understood love for a woman. He declared that in all his 
 life he had loved and should love only one woman, and that 
 this woman could never be his. 
 
 " Tiens ! " exclaimed the captain. 
 
 Pierre explained that he loved this woman 'when he was 
 very young ; but he did not then dare to aspire to her, because 
 she was too young, while he was an illegitimate son without 
 name. Afterward when he had received a name and fortune, 
 he could not think of her, because he loved her too much, 
 regarded her too far above all the world, and accordingly too 
 far above himself. 
 
 When he reached this part of his confession, Pierre turned 
 to the captain, and asked him if he understood him. 
 
 The captain made a gesture, as much as to say that if he 
 did not understand him, still he Avould beg him to proceed : 
 " L' amour platonique, images" he muttered. 
 
 Either from the wine which he had drunk, or from the need 
 that he felt of pouring out all his heart, or from the thought 
 that this man would never know any of the personages of 
 his story, or from everything combined, Pierre's tongue be- 
 came unloosened. And with thick utterance, and bleary eyes 
 looking into space, . he related his whole story : about his 
 marriage and the history of Xatasha's love for his best friend, 
 and the change that had taken place in her, and all his 
 simple relations to her. And, under a little pressure from 
 Ramball,' he disclosed what at first he had concealed : his 
 position in society, and even told him his name. 
 
 What amazed the captain more than anything else was the 
 fact that Pierre was very rich, that he had two palaces in 
 Moscow, and that he had given up everything, and, instead of 
 fleeing from Moscow, had remained in the city, concealing his 
 name and rank. 
 
 It was already very late that night when they went out 
 into the street. It was mild and bright. At the left of 
 the house already gleamed the ruddy glare of the first fire, 
 that on the Petrovka, which was the beginning of the con- 
 flagration of Moscow. 
 
 At the right, high up in the sky, stood the young, slender 
 sickle of the moon, and over against the moon could be seen
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 401 
 
 that brilliant comet which was connected in Pierre's mind with 
 his love. 
 
 At the gates stood Gerasim, the cook, and two Frenchmen, 
 laughing and talking, in two mutually incomprehensible lan- 
 guages. 
 
 They gazed at the ruddy glow which could be seen across 
 the city. 
 
 There was nothing terrible in a small fire at a distance in 
 the enormous city. 
 
 As he gazed at the high, starry heavens, at the moon, at the 
 comet, and at the glare of the conflagration, Pierre expe- 
 rienced an agreeable emotion. 
 
 " Now, this is beautiful ! What more could one need ? " 
 he asked himself. And suddenly when he remembered his 
 resolve, his head grew giddy, he felt so badly that he had to 
 cling to the fence not to fall. Without saying good-night to 
 his new friend, Pierre, with tottering steps, left the gates, and, 
 returning to his room, threw himself down on his sofa, and 
 instantly fell asleep. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 THE glare of the first fire that broke out, on the fourteenth 
 of September, was witnessed from various roads and with 
 various feelings by the escaping and departing citizens and 
 the retreating troops. 
 
 The Rostofs were spending that night at Muitishchi, about 
 twenty versts from Moscow. They had started so late on the 
 thirteenth, the road was so encumbered with trains and troops, 
 so many things had been forgotten, for which men had to be 
 sent back, that they had determined to spend the night at a 
 place five versts from Moscow. 
 
 On the next morning they awoke late, and again there 
 were so many delays that they got no farther than Bolshiya 
 Muitishchi. At ten o'clock the Rostof family and the wounded 
 men whom they had brought with them were all quartered 
 among the dvors and cottages of the great village. The 
 servants, the Rostofs 7 drivers, and the denshchiks of the 
 wounded men, having arranged for their comfort, had eaten 
 their suppers, fed their horses, and were come out on the 
 steps. In a neighboring cottage lay a wounded adjutant to 
 Rayevsky, with a smashed wrist ; and the terrible anguish 
 which he felt made him groan piteously all the time, and 
 VOL. 3. 26.
 
 402 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 these groans sounded terribly in the darkness of the autumn 
 night. The first night this adjutant had been quartered at 
 the same dvor with the Rostofs. The countess declared that 
 she could not close her eyes on account of his groaning, and 
 at Muitishchi she had taken a worse room so as to be farther 
 away from this Avounded man. 
 
 The night was dark, and one of the servants had noticed, just 
 behind the high body of a carriage standing near the gate, a 
 small glare of a second conflagation. One had already been 
 noticed some time before, and all knew that that had been the 
 village of Maluiya Muitishchi, set on fire by Mamonof s Cossacks. 
 
 " Look at that, boys ! another fire ! " said the denshchik. 
 The attention of all was attracted to the glare. 
 
 " Oh, yes, they say Maluiya Muitishchi has been set on fire 
 by Mamonof s Cossacks." 
 
 " They ? No ! that's not Muitishchi ; it's farther off. See 
 there ! That must be Moscow ! " 
 
 Two of the men came down from the porch, went behind 
 the carriage, and climbed on the rack. 
 
 " It's too far to the left for Muitishchi 'way round on the 
 other side." 
 
 Several men came and joined the others. 
 
 " See how it flares up ! " said one. " Yes, gentlemen, that 
 fire's in Moscow either in the Sushchevskaya or in the 
 Kogozhskaya." 
 
 No reply was made to this conjecture. And for some time 
 all these men looked in silence at the distant flames of this 
 new conflagration, which seemed to be spreading. 
 
 An old man, the count's valet (Kammerdiener, as they 
 called him), Danilo Terentyitch, came out to the crowd and 
 shouted to Mishka, 
 
 " What are you staring at, you blockhead ? The count is 
 calling and no one there ; go put his clothes away." 
 
 " I only came out after some water," said Mishka. 
 
 " Now, what do you think, Danilo Terentyitch is your 
 idea that fire's in Moscow ? " asked one of the lackeys. 
 
 Danilo Terentyitch made no reply, and again they all stood 
 for a long time silent. 
 
 The glare spread and wavered over a wider and wider 
 stretch of the horizon. 
 
 " God have mercy ! The wind and the drought ! " said a 
 voice at last. 
 
 " Just look ! how far it has gone ! Oh, Lord ! I think I 
 can see the jackdaws ! Lord, have mercy oii'us sinners ! "
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 403 
 
 u They'll put it out, never fear ! " 
 
 " Who's to put it out ? " Danilo Terentyitch's voice^ was 
 heard asking. He had not spoken till then. His tone was 
 calm and deliberate. " Yes, that is Moscow, boys," said he. 
 "Our white-walled niatush" His voice broke, and he sobbed 
 like an old man. 
 
 And it was as though all were waiting for this, before they 
 could realize the meaning which this glare that they saw had 
 for them. Sighs were heard, ejaculations from prayers, and 
 the old kammerdiener's sobs. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 THE kammerdiener returned to the house, and informed the 
 count that Moscow was burning. 
 
 The count put on his dressing-gown and went out to look. 
 With him went Sonya and Madame Schoss, who had not yet 
 undressed. Natasha and the countess were alone in their 
 room. Petya was now parted from his family ; he had gone 
 on ahead with his regiment, which was rendezvousing at 
 Troitsa. 
 
 The countess wept when she heard that Moscow was on 
 fire. Natasha, pale, with fixed eyes, was sitting 011 a bench 
 under the holy pictures in the same place where she had 
 taken her seat when they first came in and paid not the 
 slightest attention to her father's report. She listened to the 
 adjutant's incessant groaning, which could be heard three 
 houses off. 
 
 "Akh! how horrible!" exclaimed Sonya, coming in from 
 out of doors, chilled and scared. " I think all Moscow is on 
 fire ; it's a terrible blaze ! Natasha, come here and look. You 
 can see it now from this window ! " she exclaimed, evidently 
 wishing to rouse her cousin from her thoughts. 
 
 But Natasha looked at her as though not comprehending 
 what she wanted, and again she turned her eyes toward the 
 stove. 
 
 Natasha had been in that state of petrifaction since early 
 that morning, from the moment when Sonya, to the amazement 
 and annoyance of the countess, without any reason for doing 
 so, had taken it upon her to tell Natasha about Prince Andrei 
 being wounded, and that he was with them in their train. 
 The countess was more angry with Sonya than she had ever 
 been before, Sonya had wept and begged for forgiveness, and
 
 404 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 now, as though striving to atone for her error, she was assid- 
 uous in waiting on her cousin. 
 
 " Look, Natasha ! what a terrible fire it is ! " said Sonya. 
 
 " What fire ? " asked Natasha. " Oh, you mean Moscow ? " 
 
 And, as though she wanted not to offend Sonya by refusing, 
 and to have it done with, she turned her head to the window, 
 and glanced out in such a way that she evidently could see 
 nothing, and immediately resumed her former position. 
 
 " But you didn't see, did you ? " 
 
 " Yes, truly, I did ! " exclaimed Natasha, in a tone that 
 implied her desire to be left in peace. 
 
 Both the countess and Sonya understood that for Natasha, 
 Moscow or the burning of Moscow, or anything else, in fact, 
 had no significance. 
 
 The count had again withdrawn behind the partition, and 
 gone to bed. The countess went up to Natasha, smoothed her 
 head with the back of her hand, as she used to do when her 
 daughter was not well, then she touched her forehead with 
 her lips, as though to see whether she were feverish, and 
 kissed her. 
 
 " Are you chilly ? You are all of a tremble ! You had 
 better go to bed ! " said she. 
 
 " Go to bed ? Oh, yes, very good ! I will go to bed. I will 
 in a moment," said Natasha. 
 
 Since Natasha had been told that morning that Prince 
 Andrei was severely wounded and was travelling with them, 
 she had only at first asked, " Where, how, is he dangerously 
 wounded ? " and could she see him ? But when she was told 
 that it was impossible for her to see him, that he was severely 
 wounded, but that his life was not in danger, she, evidently 
 putting no faith in what they told her, and convinced that no 
 matter what questions she asked she would receive the same 
 answer, had ceased to ask questions or even to speak. All the 
 way, Natasha had sat motionless in her corner of the car- 
 riage, with wide, staring eyes, with that expression which the 
 countess knew so well, and dreaded so ; and now she sat in 
 the same way 011 the bench. She was concocting some scheme, 
 she was coming to some decision, or else had already made up 
 her mind even now, this the countess knew, but what it was 
 she knew not, and this alarmed and tormented her. 
 
 " Natasha, undress ! Come, darling, get into bed with 
 me." (The countess was the only one who had a regular bed : 
 Madame Schoss and the two young ladies slept on the floor, 
 on straw.")
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 405 
 
 "No, mamma, I will lie here on the floor ! " said Natasha tes- 
 tily, and, going to the window, she threw it open. The adju- 
 tant's groaning was heard more distinctly through the open win- 
 dow. She thrust her head out into the damp night air and the 
 countess saw how her slender neck was swollen with her re- 
 pressed sobs and throbbed against the window frame. Natasha 
 was aware that it was not Prince Andrei who was groaning. 
 She knew that Prince Andrei was in the same row of cottages 
 where they were, in the next izba beyond the wall ; but this 
 terrible, incessant groaning made her sob. The countess 
 exchanged glances with Sonya. 
 
 " Go to bed, darling, go to bed, sweetheart ! " said the coun- 
 tess, giving Natasha a gentle touch on the shoulder. " Go to 
 bed now." 
 
 " Oh, yes, yes, I will go to bed at once at once," said 
 Natasha, hastily beginning to undress and breaking the strings 
 of her petticoats. After taking off her dress and putting on 
 her dressing-jacket, she curled up her feet and sat down on 
 the bed that had been prepared on the floor, and, pulling her 
 short, thin braid down over her shoulder, she began to braid it 
 over again. 
 
 Her long, slender fingers swiftly, deftly unbraided- it, then 
 braided it up again and tied it with a ribbon. Natasha's head 
 turned as usual first to the window and then in the other 
 direction, but her eyes, feverishly opened, gazed fixedly 
 straight ahead. 
 
 When her preparation for the night was accomplished, she 
 quietly dropped down on the sheet spread over the hay, on 
 the side next the door. 
 
 "Natasha, you take the middle ! " said Sonya. 
 
 " No, I'll stay here," replied Natasha. " Do lie down," she 
 added in a tone of annoyance. And she buried her face in 
 the pillow. 
 
 The -countess, Madame Schoss, and Sonya, hastily undressed 
 and went to bed. The night lamp was alone left burning in 
 the room. But out of doors it was light as day from the fire 
 at Maluiya Muitishchi, two versts distant ; and from across the 
 street at the kabak which Mamonof's Cossacks were rifling 
 came the drunken shouts of men, and the adjutant's groans 
 were incessant. 
 
 Natasha listened to all these sounds without and within and 
 did not stir. At first she heard her mother mutter a prayer, 
 and her sighs, the creaking of the bed as she moved, Madame 
 Schoss's well-known piping snore, Sonya's gentle breathing,
 
 406 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 Then the countess spoke to Natasha. Natasha made no 
 reply. 
 
 " I think she's asleep, mamma/' softly replied Sonya. The 
 countess, after a little interval of silence, spoke again, but 
 this time no one answered her. 
 
 Soon after, Natasha heard her mother's measured breathing. 
 
 Natasha did not move, though her little bare foot, peeping 
 out from under the bed-covering, felt the chill of the uncar- 
 peted floor. 
 
 A cricket, as though proud of watching over all, chirped in 
 a crevice. A cock crowed at a distance and was answered by 
 another nearer. The shouts had ceased in the tavern; the 
 only other sound was the constant groans of the adjutant. Na- 
 tasha sat up in bed. 
 
 " Scnya ? Asleep ? Mamma ? " she whispered. 
 
 No one answered. 
 
 Natasha slowly and cautiously arose, crossed herself, cau- 
 tiously set her light, slender, bare foot on the cold, dirty floor. 
 The boards creaked. She ran nimbly as a kitten for a few 
 steps and took hold of the cold latch of the door. 
 
 It seemed to her as though something heavy were knocking 
 with regular strokes on all the walls of the izba. It was her 
 heart beating and almost bursting with terror and love. 
 
 She opened the door, crossed the threshold, and set foot on 
 the damp, cold earth of the passageway. The coolness re- 
 freshed her. She touched a sleeping man with her bare foot, 
 stepped over him, and opened the door into the izba where 
 Prince Andrei was lying. It was dark in this room. On a 
 bench in the corner, just back of the bed, whereon something 
 lay, stood a tallow candle which in burning had taken the 
 form of a great mushroom. 
 
 Natasha, ever since that morning when she learned about 
 Prince Andrei's wound and that he was with them, had made 
 up her mind that she must see him. She knew not why this 
 was necessary, but she knew that the interview would be 
 painful, and therefore she was all the more certain that it was 
 inevitable. 
 
 All that day she had lived in the sole hope of being able to 
 see him that night. But now when the moment had actually 
 come she was filled with horror at the thought of what she 
 was going to see. How was he mutilated ? How much of 
 him was left ? Was he like the adjutant's incessant groans ? 
 Yes, he must be. In her imagination he was the very embodi- 
 ment of these horrible groans. 

 
 WAR AND PEACE. 407 
 
 When she caught sight of an ill-defined mass in the corner, 
 and took his knees thrust up under the bedclothes for his 
 shoulders, she imagined some horrible body, and her terror 
 compelled her to pause. But an unexpected force compelled 
 her forward. She cautiously took one step, then another, and 
 found herself in the middle of the small room filled with lug- 
 gage. On the bench in the corner under the holy pictures lay 
 another, man (this was Timokhin), and on the floor lay two 
 other men (the doctor and the valet). 
 
 The valet sat up and whispered something. Timokhin, suf- 
 fering from pain in his wounded leg, was not asleep, and stared 
 with all his eyes at this strange apparition of a young girl in 
 her white night-gown, dressing-sack, and night-cap. 
 
 The sleepy and startled words, of the valet, " What do you 
 want ? who is it ? " merely caused Natasha to step the more 
 quickly to what was lying in the corner. However terribly 
 unlike the form of man that body was, she still must see it. 
 She passed by the valet ; the candle flared up, and she clearly 
 saw Prince Andrei with his arms stretched out over the spread, 
 and looking just as she had always known him. He was the 
 same as ever. But the flushed face, his gleaming eyes gazing 
 at her with ecstasy, and especially his delicate boyish throat, 
 relieved by the opened shirt-collar, gave him a peculiarly inno- 
 cent, babyish appearance such as she had never seen in him. 
 
 She went to him, and threw herself 011 her knees with the 
 swift, pliant grace of youth. 
 
 He smiled, and extended to her his hand. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 A WEEK had passed since Prince Andrei had come to himself 
 in the field lazaret of Borodino. Almost all of this time he 
 had been in a state of unconsciousness. His feverish condi- 
 tion, and the inflammation of his intestines, which had suffered 
 a lesion, must, in the opinion of the surgeon who attended him, 
 carry him off. But on the seventh day he ate a morsel of 
 bread and drank some tea with appetite, and the doctor re- 
 marked that his fever had diminished. 
 
 Prince Andrei had come to himself in the morning. The 
 first night after they left Moscow had been pretty warm, and 
 Prince Andrei had not been moved from his calash ; but at 
 Muitishchi he himself had asked to be taken into a house and 
 given some tea. The anguish caused by moving him into the
 
 408 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 izba caused Prince Andrei to groan aloud, and to lose conscious- 
 ness again. When they had placed him on the camp bed, he 
 lay for a long time motionless, with closed eyes. Then he had 
 opened them, and asked in a whisper : " Can I have tea ? " 
 
 This memory for even the least details of life amazed the 
 surgeon. He felt of his pulse, and, to his surprise and regret, 
 discovered that his pulse was better. The doctor remarked it 
 with regret, because from his experience he was certain that 
 Prince Andrei could not live, and that if he were to live on he 
 would only have to die a little later in terrible agony. 
 
 The red-nosed major of his regiment, Timokhin, had been 
 also brought to Moscow with him, wounded in the leg in the 
 same battle of Borodino. They were accompanied by the sur- 
 geon, the prince's valet, his coachman, and two denshchiks. 
 
 They handed Prince Andrei his tea. He drank it eagerly, 
 looking with feverish eyes straight ahead at the door as though 
 trying to understand and remember something. 
 
 " I don't want any more. Is Timokhin there ? " he asked. 
 Timokhin crept along on the bench toward him. 
 
 " I am here, your illustriousness." 
 
 " How is the wound ? " 
 
 ".Mine ? It's all right. But you ? " 
 
 Prince Andrei again lay thinking, as though trying to re- 
 member something. 
 
 " Can't you get me the book ? " he asked. 
 
 "What book?" 
 
 " The New Testament." 
 
 "I haven't one." 
 
 The doctor promised to get one for him, and began to in- 
 quire of the prince how he felt. Prince Andrei answered 
 reluctantly but intelligibly to all the doctor's questions, and 
 then said that he would like a bolster, for he felt uncomfort- 
 able, and his wound was very painful. The doctor and valet 
 took off the cloak which covered him, and, scowling at the 
 putrid odor of the gangrene spreading through the wound, 
 began to examine the terrible place. The surgeon found the 
 state of things very unsatisfactory, made some different dispo- 
 sition of the bandages, and turned the wounded man over, so 
 that it made him groan again ; and the agony caused in turn- 
 ing him back again made him lose consciousness, and he 
 began to be delirious. He kept insisting that they should 
 fetch for him as quickly as possible the book that he had 
 wanted, and place it in such and such a place. 
 
 " What would it cost you ? " he asked. " I haven't one
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 409 
 
 please get me one ! let me have it for a little minute ! " 
 he pleaded, in a pitiful voice. 
 
 The doctor went into the entry to wash his hands. 
 
 "Akh! It's terrible, truly!" said he to the valet, who was 
 pouring water for him over his hands. " Only look at him 
 for a moment. Why, it's such agony that I am amazed that 
 he endures it." 
 
 " Well, we have to take what is sent us ! Oh Lord, Jesus 
 Christ ! " ejaculated the valet. 
 
 For the first time, Prince Andrei realized where he was and 
 what was the matter with him, and remembered that he had 
 been wounded, and how, when the carriage stopped at Mui- 
 tishchi, he had asked to be taken into the izba. His mind 
 grew confused again from the pain, but he came to himself, 
 for a second time, in the izba, as he was drinking the tea ; and 
 then once more, as he went over all his experience, he more 
 vividly than anything else recalled that moment at the field 
 lazaret when, at sight of the sufferings of the man whom he so 
 hated, new thoughts, that gave promise of happiness, came 
 to him. 
 
 And these thoughts, though obscure and vague, now again 
 took possession of his mind. He remembered that a new 
 happiness had come to him, and that this happiness was some- 
 how connected with the Gospel. Therefore he had asked for 
 the New Testament. 
 
 But the new position in which his wound had been placed, 
 and the turning him over, had again confused his thoughts ; 
 and when, for the third time, he awoke to a consciousness of 
 life, it was in the absolute silence of night. 
 
 All were asleep around him. A cricket was chirping in 
 another room ; some one was shouting and singing in the 
 street ; cockroaches were rustling over the table, the holy pic- 
 tures, and the walls ; a fat fly came blundering against his 
 pillow, and buzzed around the tallow candle with the mush- 
 room arrangement that stood near him. 
 
 His mind was not in its normal condition. The healthy 
 man ordinarily thinks, feels, and remembers a countless collec- 
 tion of objects at one and the same time ; but he has the power 
 and strength to choose one series of thoughts or phenomena, 
 and to give to this series all his attention. 
 
 The man in health, no matter how deep may be his thoughts, 
 can put them aside at a moment's notice in order to speak a 
 courteous word to any one coming in, and then immediately 
 to resume them again.
 
 410 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 Prince Andrei's mind was not in a normal condition in this 
 respect. All its forces were more keen and active than ever, 
 but their activity was entirely outside of his will. They 
 were governed by the most heterogeneous thoughts and 
 visions. 
 
 Sometimes his mind began suddenly to work, and with an 
 energy, clearness, and subtlety such as it had never shown 
 when he was in health. And then just as suddenly, in the 
 midst of this fabrication of his brain, some unexpected vision 
 would interpose and interrupt, and he would not have the 
 strength to return to it. 
 
 " Yes, a new happiness was revealed to me, a happiness, 
 man's indefeasible right," he said to himself, as he lay in the 
 dusky quiet izba, and looked up with feverishly wide-open 
 and fixed eyes. " A happiness to be found outside of material 
 forces, outside of exterior, material influences, the happiness of 
 the spirit alone, of love. Every man can understand it, but 
 God alone can adjudge it and prescribe it. But how does God 
 prescribe this law ? Why did the Son ? " 
 
 And suddenly the course of his thoughts was broken off, 
 and Prince Andrei heard, but he could not tell whether he 
 really heard it or whether it was his delirium, he heard a 
 low lisping voice constantly rehearsing in measured rhythm : 
 *'i piti piti pifi" and then again " I ti-tl" and then 
 "ipiti piti piti" and then once more " / ti-ti." 
 
 At the same time that this whispered music was ringing, 
 Prince Andrei felt that over his face, over the very centre of 
 it, was rising a strange sort of airy edifice of delicate little 
 needles or shavings. He felt but this was trying to him 
 that it was necessary for him to keep in perfect equilibrium, 
 so that the growing edifice might not crumble ; but neverthe- 
 less it fell down, and then slowly arose again to the sounds 
 of this whispered, rhythmic music. 
 
 "It is growing, it is growing ! it is stretching up and grow- 
 ing ! " said Prince Andrei to himself. 
 
 At the same time that he heard the whispered music, and 
 with the perception of that upstretching and rising edifice of 
 needles, Prince Andrei could see by fits and starts the ruddy 
 circle of the candle light, and could hear the rustling of the 
 cockroaches and the buzzing of the fly which blundered 
 against his pillow and his face. And whenever the fly struck 
 his face it produced a burning sensation ; but at the same 
 time he was amazed because when it touched the domain 
 occupied by that structure of needles it did not affect it-
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 411 
 
 Then, moreover, there was something else singular. This 
 was something white by the door, it was a statue of the 
 sphinx, which also crushed him. 
 
 " But maybe that is my shirt on the table," thought Prince 
 Andrei, " but these are my legs, and that is the door, but why 
 does that structure rise up and stretch out so, and that 
 piti piti piti i ti-ti i piti 7>/f/ piti? That is enough 
 please stop," begged Prince Andrei as though of some one. 
 And suddenly again his thoughts and feeling became extraor- 
 dinarily clear and distinct. 
 
 u Yes, love," he thought with perfect distinctness, "but not 
 that love which loves for a purpose, for a personal end, but 
 that love which I for the first time experienced when, dying, 
 I saw my enemy, and could still love him. I experienced the 
 feeling of love which is the very substance of the soul, and 
 which needs no object. And even now I experience that 
 blessed feeling. To love one's neighbors, to love one's ene- 
 mies. Always to love to love God in all his manifestations. 
 To love one's friends is human love ; but to love one's enemies 
 is divine. And this is what made me experience such bliss 
 when I felt that I loved that man ! What has become of him ? 
 Is he living, or 
 
 ''Love in its human form may pass over into hate ; but God's 
 love cannot change. Nothing, not even death, can destroy it. 
 It is the very substance of the soul. But how many people 
 have I hated in my life ! And none have I ever loved more 
 warmly or hated more bitterly than her ! " 
 
 And he vividly pictured Natasha, not as she had formerly 
 seemed to his imagination, through her charming personality 
 alone ; but, for the first time, in her spiritual nature. And he 
 understood her feelings, her suffering, her shame, and her 
 repentance. 
 
 He now for the first time realized all the cruelty of his 
 renunciation, saw the cruelty of his break with her. 
 
 " If I might only see her once again once again look into 
 her eyes, and tell her." 
 
 " / piti piti piti, i ti-ti i j)iti piti Immm ! " went 
 the fly. And his attention was suddenly diverted to that 
 other world of delirious activity in which such strange things 
 took place. In this world, just the same as before, that edifice 
 arose and crumbled not, the candle burned with its red halo, 
 the same shirt-sphinx * lay by the door ; but, in addition to 
 all this, there was a squeaking sound, there was the odor of a 
 * Rubashka-sftnks.
 
 412 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 cooling breeze, and a new white sphinx appeared, standing in 
 front of the door. And this sphinx had a pallid face, and 
 the sparkling eyes of that same Natasha of whom he had but 
 just been thinking. 
 
 " Oh ! how trying this incessant hallucination is ! " said 
 Prince Andrei to himself, striving to banish this vision ^ from 
 his imagination. But the face still stood in front of him in 
 all the vividness of reality : nay, this face approached him. 
 
 Prince Andrei was anxious to return to the former world of 
 pure thought, but he could not, and the delirium compelled 
 him into its thraldom. The low whispering voice continued 
 its rhythmic lisping, something oppressed him like a weight, 
 and the strange vision stood in front of him. 
 
 Prince Andrei summoned all his energies so as to become 
 master of himself ; he moved, and suddenly in his ears there 
 was a humming, his eyes grew clouded, and, like a man plunged 
 in water, he lost consciousness. 
 
 When he came to his senses, Natasha, the veritable living 
 Natasha, whom of all people in the world he had been most 
 anxious to love with that new, pure, divine love just revealed 
 to him, was before him, on her knees ! 
 
 He realized that this was the living, actual Natasha ; and 
 he felt no surprise, but only a gentle sense of gladness. 
 
 Natasha, on her knees before him, held back her sobs and 
 gazed at him timidly but intently ; she could not stir. Her 
 face was pale and motionless ; only the lips quivered slightly. 
 
 Prince Andrei drew a sigh of relief, smiled and stretched 
 out his hand. 
 
 " You ? " he asked. " What happiness ! " 
 
 Natasha, still on her knees, with swift but cautious move- 
 ment bent over to him, and, cautiously taking his hand, bent 
 her face down to it and began to kiss it, scarcely touching it 
 with her lips. 
 
 " Forgive me ! " she murmured, lifting her head and gazing 
 kt him. " Forgive me ! " 
 
 " I love you ! " said Prince Andrei. 
 
 " Forgive " 
 
 " What have I to forgive ? " asked Prince Andrei. 
 
 For give me for what I did ! "' stammered Natasha 
 almost inaudibly, and she began to kiss his hand faster than 
 before, scarcely touching it with her lips. 
 
 " I love thee better, more dearly than before," said Prince 
 Andrei, lifting her face with his hand so that he might look 
 into her eyes.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 413 
 
 Those eyes, overflowing with blissful tears, looked at him 
 timidly, compassionately, and with the ecstasy of love. Na- 
 tasha's face was thin and pale, the lips swollen ; it had no 
 trace of beauty ; it was frightful. But Prince Andrei did not 
 notice that ; he saw her sparkling eyes, and they were 
 beautiful. 
 
 Voices were heard behind them. Piotr, the prince's valet, 
 now thoroughly awake, aroused the doctor. Timokhin, who 
 had not been asleep at all on account of the pain in his leg, 
 had not noticed what had been going on, and, solicitously cov- 
 ering himself, curled himsejf up on the bench. 
 
 " What does this mean ? " asked the doctor, sitting up. 
 " Please, sudaruinya ! " 
 
 At the same time the maid sent by the countess to fetch 
 her daughter knocked at the door. 
 
 Like a somnambulist awakened in the midst of her dream, 
 Natasha left the room, and, returning to her own izba, fell sob- 
 bing 011 her bed. 
 
 From that day forth, during all the rest of the RostofV 
 journey, at all their halts and resting-places, Natasha staid 
 by the wounded Bolkonsky's side, and the doctor was forced 
 to confess that he had never expected to see in a young girl 
 such constancy or such skilfulness in nursing a wounded man. 
 
 Terrible as it seemed to the countess to think that the 
 prince might (or, as the doctor said, probably would) die dur- 
 ing the journey, in her daughter's arms, she had not the heart 
 to refuse Natasha. 
 
 Though, in consequence of the now re-established relation- 
 ship between the wounded prince and Natasha, it occurred to 
 them that in case he recovered the engagement might be re- 
 newed, no one Natasha and Prince Andrei least of all 
 spoke about it. The undecided question of life and death 
 hanging over, not Bolkonsky alone, but over Russia as well, 
 kept all other considerations in the background. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 PIERRE awoke late on the fifteenth of September. His head 
 ached ; 'his clothes, in which he had slept without undressing, 
 hung heavy on him, and his mind was burdened by a dull con- 
 sciousness of something shameful which he had done the 
 night before.
 
 414 WAR AND PttACE. 
 
 This shameful act was his talk with Captain Kainball. 
 
 It was eleven o'clock by his watch, but it seemed peculiarly 
 dark out of doors. Pierre got up, rubbed his eyes, and seeing 
 the pistol with its carved handle, which Gerasim had replaced 
 on the writing-table, Pierre remembered where he was and 
 what was before him on that day. 
 
 "But am I not too late?" he queried. "Ho, probably he 
 wquld not make his entree into Moscow later than twelve 
 o'clock." 
 
 Pierre did not allow himself to think what was before him, 
 but he made all the greater haste to act. 
 
 Having adjusted his attire, Pierre took up the pistol and 
 made ready to go. But then the thought for the first time 
 occurred to hini how he should carry his weapon through the 
 street otherwise than in his hand. It was certainly hard to 
 hide the great pistol under the flowing kaftan. Nor was it 
 possible to keep it out of sight in his belt or under his arm. 
 Moreover the pistol had been discharged, and Pierre had not 
 had time to reload it. . 
 
 " Well, the dagger is just as good," said he to himselt, 
 though more than once, while deliberating over the accom- 
 plishment of his undertaking, he had come to the conclusion 
 that the chief mistake made by the student 111 1809 consisted 
 in his trying to kill Napoleon with a dagger. 
 
 But as Pierre's chief end consisted not so much in fulfilling 
 the scheme which he planned as it did in proving to him- 
 self that he had not renounced his purpose, and was doing 
 everything to fulfil it, Pierre hastily seized the blunt and 
 notched dagger in its green sheath, which he had bought 
 together with the pistol at the Sukharef tower, and concealed 
 it under his waistcoat. 
 
 Having belted up his kaftan and pulled his hat down over 
 his eyes, Pierre, trying to make no noise and to avoid the cap- 
 tain, crept alons; the corridor and went into the street. 
 
 The fire which he had looked at so indifferently the even- 
 ing before had noticeably increased during the night. Mos- 
 cow was burning in various directions. At one and the same 
 time the carriage-market, the district across the river," the 
 Gostinnui Dvor, the Povarskaya, the boats on the Moskva, and 
 the timber-yards by the Dorogomilovsky bridge, were on fire. 
 
 Pierre's route took him by cross-streets to the -1 ovar- 
 skaya, and thence along the Arbat to St. Nikola Yavlennoi, 
 where, in his imagination, he had determined should be the 
 * The Zamoskvoretchye.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 415 
 
 place for the execution of .his project. Most of the houses 
 had their doors and window shutters nailed up. The. streets 
 and alleys were deserted. The air was full of smoke and the 
 smell of burning. Occasionally he met Russians with anx- 
 iously timid faces, and Frenchmen of uncitilied, military 
 aspect, who walked in the middle of the street. All looked 
 with amazement at Pierre. The Russians were impressed 
 not only by his great height and stoutness, his strange, 
 gloomily concentrated and martyr-like expression of face and 
 I figure, and they stared at him because they could not make 
 out to what rank of life he belonged. The French followed 
 him in amazement, because Pierre, unlike the other Russians, 
 paid absolutely no attention to them, instead of looking at 
 them in trepidation or curiosity. 
 
 At the gates of one house three Frenchmen, trying to talk 
 to some Russian servants who could understand nothing that 
 they said, stopped Pierre and asked him if he knew French. 
 
 Pierre shook his head and went on his way. In another 
 cross-street the sentinel mounted by a green caisson chal- 
 lenged him, and it was not until Pierre heard his threatening 
 call repeated and the click of his musket, which the sentinel 
 took up, that he realized that he must go round on the other 
 side of the street. 
 
 He heard nothing and saw nothing of what was going on 
 around him. With a sense of nervous haste and horror, he 
 took with him, like something terrible and alien to him, that 
 project of his, and feared taught by his experience of the 
 night before that something would distract him. But it 
 was not Pierre's destiny to reach his destination in the same 
 frame of mind. Moreover, even if there had occurred nothing 
 to detain him, his project could not now have been carried out, 
 for the reason that Napoleon, some four hours previously, had 
 passed through the Dorogomilovsky suburb, across the Arbat, 
 into the Kreml, and now was seated in the gloomiest frame of 
 mind in the imperial cabinet of the Kreml palace, issuing 
 detailed and urgent orders in regard to the measures to be 
 taken at once for quenching the fires, preventing pillage, and 
 re-assuring the inhabitants. 
 
 But Pierre knew nothing about this : wholly absorbed in 
 the actual, he was tormenting himself as men do who recog- 
 nize that their undertaking is impossible, not because of its 
 difficulties, but because it is so entirely unsuited to their 
 nature. He was tormented by his fear that at the decisive 
 moment he should weaken, and in consequence of it lose his 
 self-respect.
 
 416 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 Although he saw nothing and heard nothing, he instinct- 
 ively took the right road and made no mistake in following 
 the cross-streets that led him into the Povarskaya. 
 
 But in proportion as Pierre approached the Povarskaya the 
 smoke grew denser and denser, and he even began to feel the 
 heat from the tire. Occasionally, he could see tongues of 
 flame behind the roofs of the houses. More people were met 
 on the streets, and these people were more excited and anx- 
 ious. But Pierre, though he was conscious that something 
 extraordinary was going on around him, did not realize that 
 he was approaching the conflagration. 
 
 As he followed along a foot-path that skirted a large open 
 space, bordered on one side by the Povarskaya, on the other 
 by*the park attached to Prince Gruzinsky's mansion, Pierre 
 suddenly heard near him the pitiful shrieks of a woman. He 
 stopped as though wakened out of a dream, and raised his head. 
 
 On one side of the foot-path, on the dry, dusty grass, was 
 piled up a heap of household furniture : feather bed, samovar, 
 sacred pictures, and trunks. On the ground, next the trunk, 
 sat a lean woman, not young, and with long, projecting upper 
 teeth. She was dressed in a black cloak and a cap. This woman 
 rocked herself to and fro, and was muttering as she wept and 
 sobbed. Two little girls, ten or twelve years old, dressed in 
 short, dirty skirts and little cloaks, gazed at their mother 
 with an expression of perplexity on their pale, frightened 
 faces. A little boy of seven, in a chtiika and cap altogether 
 too big for him, was weeping in his old nurse's arms. A 
 dirty, bare-legged servant girl was sitting on a trunk, and, hav- 
 ing let down her pale blond plait, was pulling out the scorched 
 hairs, smelling of them as she did so. The husband of the 
 family, a short, round-shouldered little man, in undress uni- 
 form, with wheel-like little side-whiskers, and love-locks 
 brushed smoothly ,froin under his cap, with impassive face, 
 was sorting the trunks piled one on top of the other, and 
 trying to get some clothes out. 
 
 'The woman almost threw herself at Pierre's feet when she 
 saw him. 
 
 " Oh, good father ! Oh, orthodox Christian ! Help, save 
 h er I Qh, dear sir ! * Whoever you are, help ! " she cried, 
 through her sobs. " My little daughter ! my daughter ! 
 My youngest daughter has been left behind ! She is burning 
 up! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh, why did I nurse thee? Oh! Oh! 
 Oh!" 
 
 " There ! that'll do, Mary a Nikolayevna," expostulated her 
 * Golubchik,
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 417 
 
 husband, in a mild voice, but evidently merely so as to make 
 a good impression on the stranger. "Sister must have got 
 her. If not, it's all over with her by this time," he added. 
 
 " Monster ! Villain ! " viciously screamed the woman, sud- 
 denly ceasing to weep. " There's no heart in you ! You have 
 no pity for your own child ! Any other man would have 
 snatched her from the fire. But you are a monster and not 
 a man, and not a father. But you, sir, you are noble ! " cried 
 the woman, addressing Pierre rapidly, and sobbing. "The 
 row was on fire ; ours caught. The girl cried : * We are on 
 fire.' We tried to save what we could. Whatever we could 
 lay our hands on, we carried out. This here is what we 
 saved. The holy picture * and our wedding bed all the 
 rest was lost. We got the children, all but Katitchka ! Oh ! 
 Oh ! Oh ! Oh, Lord ! " and again she burst into tears. " My 
 darling little one ! she's burnt up ! she's burnt up ! " 
 
 " But where was it, where was she left ? " asked Pierre. 
 
 By the expression of his excited face, the woman realized 
 that this man might help her. 
 
 "Batyushka ! Father ! " she cried, clasping him around the 
 legs. " Benefactor ! set my heart at ease ! Aniska,. go, you 
 nasty hussy ! show him the way," she cried to the girl, and 
 angrily opened her mouth, by this action still more exposing 
 her long teeth. 
 
 "'Lead the way, lead the way I I, I will do what I 
 can," stammered Pierre, in a panting voice. 
 
 The dirty -looking girl came out from behind the trunk, put 
 up her braid, and, with a sigh, started off down the foot-path, 
 with her stubbed, bare feet. 
 
 Pierre had, as it were, wakened suddenly to life after a 
 heavy swoon. He raised his head higher, his eyes were filled 
 with the spark of life, and, with rapid strides, he followed the 
 girl, passed her, and hurried along the Povarskaya. The 
 whole street was shrouded in clouds of black smoke. Tongues 
 of flame here and there darted out from it. A great throng of 
 people were packed together in front of the fire. In the mid- 
 dle of the street stood a French general, and he was saying 
 something to those around him. Pierre, accompanied by the 
 girl, was going toward the place where the general stood, but 
 French soldiers halted him : " On ne passe pas You cannot 
 pass ! " 
 
 " This way, uncle," f cried the girl ; " we'll go round by this 
 
 * Bozhye blagoslov&nye : literally, GoA's benediction, 
 t Dyddinka, diminutive of dyddya. 
 
 VOL. 3. 27.
 
 418 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 side street, through Xikulini's." Pierre turned back, and al- 
 most ran a,s he hastened in her footsteps, so as to overtake 
 her. The girl scurried along, turned down a cross-street at 
 the left, and, passing by three houses, turned into the gates of 
 a house at the right. 
 
 ' There it is right there ! " cried the girl, and, running 
 across the yard, she opened a wicket door in the deal fence, 
 and, stepping back a step, pointed out to Pierre a small 
 wooden " wing "' where the flames were burning bright and 
 hot. One side was already fallen in ; the other was burning, 
 and the flames were bursting out from the broken windows 
 and from under the roof. 
 
 When Pierre reached the wicket he was suffocated by the 
 heat, and involuntarily drew back. 
 
 " Which, which is your house ? " he asked. 
 
 " Oh ! Oh ! Okh ! " howled the girl, as she pointed to the 
 wing. " That one there ; that was our own home.* 
 
 " Are you burnt up, Katitchka ! our treasure ! my darling 
 baruishnya ! Oh ! Okh ! " howled Aniska, at the sight of the 
 fire, feeling that it was necessary for her to express also her 
 feelings. 
 
 Pierre edged toward the burning wing, but the heat was 
 so powerful that he was obliged to make a wide circle around 
 the building, and he came out next a large house which was as 
 yet burning only on one side of the roof. A great crowd of 
 Frenchmen swarmed around it. 
 
 Pierre could not at first understand what these Frenchmen 
 were doing, who appeared to be dragging something, but, 
 when he saw one of them strike a peasant with the flat of his 
 sabre, and take away from him a foxskin shuba, Pierre had a 
 dim idea that pillaging was going 011 there ; still the idea 
 merely flashed through his mind. 
 
 The noise of the crackling and the crash of falling walls 
 and ceilings, the hissing and snapping of the flames, and the 
 excited cries of the people, the spectacle of billowing, whirl- 
 ing clouds of smoke now thick and black, now dotted with, 
 gleaming sparks, now lighted up with solid, sheaf-shaped 
 red and golden-scaled flames lapping the walls, the sense of 
 the heat and the smoke, and the swiftness of motion, all 
 served to produce upon Pierre the usual exciting effect of 
 fires. This effect was peculiarly powerful upon him, because 
 suddenly, at the sight of this fire, he felt himself liberated 
 from the oppression of his thoughts. He felt young, gay, 
 * She calls kvartira (quarters) faUra.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 419 
 
 agile, and resolute. He ran round the wing from the burning 
 house, and tried to force his way into that part of it that was 
 still standing, when suddenly he heard, over his very head, 
 several voices shouting, immediately followed by the rush and 
 metallic ring of some heavy body falling near him. 
 
 Pierre looked round and saw, in the windows of the house, 
 some Frenchmen who had just flung out a chest of drawers, 
 full of some metallic articles. Other French soldiers, standing 
 below, were running to the chest of drawers. 
 
 " Well, what does this fellow want here ? " * cried one of 
 the Frenchmen, seeing Pierre. 
 
 " A child in this house ? Haven't you seen a child ? " asked 
 Pierre, in French. 
 
 " Hold ! What's he prating about ! Go to the devil ! " re- 
 plied a voice ; and one of the soldiers, evidently fearing that 
 it was Pierre's intention to rob them of the silver and bronzes 
 that were in the drawers, came up to him in a threatening 
 manner. 
 
 " A child ? " cried the Frenchman from above. " I heard 
 something squealing in the garden. Perhaps 'twas the poor 
 man's little brat. Must be humane, you know." 
 
 "Where is he ? Where is he ? " demanded Pierre. 
 
 " There ! There ! " cried the Frenchman from the window, 
 pointing to the garden behind the house. " Wait, I'm coming 
 right down." And, in fact, in a moment the Frenchman, a 
 black-eyed fellow with a spot on his cheek, and in his shirt- 
 sleeves, sprang out from the window of the first story, and, 
 giving Pierre a slap on the shoulder, ran with him down into 
 the garden. " Hurry up, boys," he cried to his comrades. 
 " Beginning to grow warm." 
 
 Running behind the house, on the sand-strewn path, the 
 Frenchman gave Pierre's arm a pull and pointed to the circle. 
 On a bench lay a little maiden of three years, in a pink dress. 
 
 " There's your brat. Ah ! a little girl ! So much the bet- 
 ter," said the Frenchman. "Good-by, old fellow. Must be 
 humane. We are all mortal, you see." f And the Frenchman 
 with the spot on his cheek hurried back to his comrades. 
 
 * "Eh bien ! qu'est ce qit'il vent, celui-la ? " 
 
 t " Un enfant dans cette maison ? N'arcz-roiispas vit -un enfant ? " " Tiens .' 
 qn'csl ce qit'il chante, ce.bd-lh ? Va te prc>m/>ncr" "Un enfant ? J'ai entendu 
 piailler quelqne chose aujardin. Pent-etre Jest son moutard an bonhomme. 
 Faut etre humain, voyez vous" " Oil ext-il ? Ou cst-il ? " " Par id ! Par 
 id! Attendez ! je rais des'cendre. Depechcz-roiis, ro?/.<? a^itres. Commence a 
 faire chaud. Voilh votre movtard. Ah, tine petite .' taut mieux. An revoir^ 
 mon aros. Faa^ etre humain. Xous .wnime$ tons mortels, voyez-vous! '
 
 420 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 Pierre, choking with delight, started back to the girl, and 
 was going to put the little one in his arms. But the little 
 one, pale like her mother, and sick with the scrofula, a dis- 
 agreeable-looking child, seeing the strange man, set up a 
 screech and tried to run away. Pierre, however, seized her, 
 and took her in his arms. She screamed in a desperately 
 angry voice, and with her slender little arms struggled to tear 
 herself away from Pierre, and to bite him with her slobbery 
 mouth. Pierre was seized by a feeling of horror and repul- 
 sion, such as he would have felt at contact with any nasty 
 little animal. But he forced himself not to throw the child 
 down, and hastened with her back to the great house. He 
 found it impossible to return the same way : the girl, Aniska, 
 had disappeared, and Pierre, with a feeling of pity and dis- 
 gust, holding to his heart as tenderly as he could the passion- 
 ately screaming and wet little girl, ran through the garden to 
 find another exit. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 WHEN Pierre, making his way round by yards and alleys, 
 brought his burden back to Prince Gruzinsky's garden, on the 
 corner of the Povarskaya, he did not at first recognize the 
 place which he had left when he went after the child it was 
 so swarming with people and with household furniture. Be- 
 sides the Russian families taking refuge here with their treas- 
 ures, there were also many French soldiers, in various garb. 
 
 Pierre paid no attention to them. He was in haste to find 
 the chinovnik's family, so as to restore the little girl to her 
 mother and then go and rescue some one else. It seemed to 
 him that he had still very much to do, and as speedily as pos- 
 sible. Heated with the fire and his exertion in running, Pierre 
 at that moment experienced more keenly than ever that feel- 
 ing of youth, energy, and resolution which had taken posses- 
 sion of him when he started to rescue the little child. 
 
 The little girl was calmer now, and, clinging to Pierre's kaf- 
 tan, she sat on his arm, and like a little wild animal looked 
 around her. 
 
 Pierre occasionally looked down at her and smiled. It 
 seemed to him that he saw something touchingly innocent 
 in that scared and sickly little face. 
 
 Neither the chinovnik nor his wife was to be seen in the place 
 where they had been before. Pierre, with rapid strides, wan- 
 dered round among the people, scrutinizing the various faces 
 that he met.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 421 
 
 His attention was accidentally attracted to a Georgian or Ar- 
 menian family, consisting of a handsome man of very advanced 
 age, with a face of Oriental type, and dressed in a new tulup 
 and new boots ; an old woman of the same type, and a young 
 woman. This very young woman seemed to Pierre the perfec- 
 tion of Oriental beauty, with her dark brows delicately arched, 
 and her long face of remarkable freshness of complexion and 
 genuine but expressionless beauty. Amid the indiscriminate 
 heap of household articles on the green, she, in her rich satin 
 mantle and bright lilac kerchief covering her head, reminded 
 one of a delicate hot-house flower flung out into the snow. She 
 sat on a parcel behind the old woman, and with her motionless, 
 big, dark, oblong eyes, shaded by long lashes, looked at the 
 ground. 
 
 Evidently she was conscious of her beauty, and it filled her 
 with alarm. This face struck Pierre, and, in spite of his haste 
 as he passed along the fence, several times he glanced round 
 at her. 
 
 On reaching the fence and still not finding those of whom 
 he was in search, Pierre paused and looked around. 
 
 Pierre's figure, with the child in his arms, was now even 
 more remarkable than before, and a number of Russians, both 
 men and women, gathered round him. 
 
 " Have you lost any one, dear man ? " " You are a noble, 
 aren't you ? " " Whose child is that ? " were among the 
 questions put to him. 
 
 Pierre explained that the child belonged to a woman in a 
 black mantle, who had been sitting in that very spot with her 
 children ; and he asked if no one knew who she was, and 
 where she had gone. 
 
 " It must be the Anferofs," said an old deacon, addressing a 
 pock-marked woman. " Lord, have mercy ! Lord, have mercy ! " 
 he added, in his usual bass. 
 
 "Where are the Anferofs?" asked the woman. "The 
 Anferofs started early this morning. This may be Marya 
 Nikolayevna or the Ivanofs'." 
 
 "He said a woman, but Marya Nikolayevna is a lady,"* 
 said a household serf. 
 
 "Surely you must know her long teeth, a thin woman," 
 said Pierre. 
 
 "Certainly, it's Marya Nikolayevna. They went into the 
 garden as soon as these wolves came down on us," said the 
 peasant woman, pointing to the French soldiers. 
 
 * Bdruinya*
 
 422 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 "Oh, Lord, have mercy !" again ejaculated the deacon. 
 "Go down yonder, then. You'll find them. She's there. 
 She was all beat out; she was crying," said the peasant 
 woman. '-She is over there. You'll find her." 
 
 But Pierre heard not what the woman said. For several 
 seconds he had been watching anxiously what was going on a 
 few steps away. He was looking at the Armenian family and 
 a couple of French soldiers who had approached them. One 
 of these soldiers, a little, nimble man, wore a blue overcoat 
 belted with a rope. He had a night-cap on his head, and was 
 barefooted. 
 
 The second, who especially attracted Pierre's attention, was 
 a long, lank, round-shouldered, white-haired man, slow m his 
 movements, and with an idiotic expression of countenance. 
 He was clad in a frieze capote, with blue trousers, and Hes- 
 sian boots come to holes. 
 
 The little bootless Frenchman in the blue overcoat had gone 
 up to the Armenians, and, after making some remark, had seized 
 the old man by the legs, and the old man had immediately 
 begun to pull off his boots in great haste. 
 
 The other one had taken up his position in front ol the 
 
 pretty Armenian girl, and, with his hands thrust deep m his 
 
 pockets, was staring at her in perfect silence, without moving. 
 
 "Take it, take the child!" exclaimed Pierre, addressing 
 
 the peasant woman in imperative tones, holding out the little 
 
 girl Take her, and give her back to them ! " he cried, and 
 
 set the screaming child on the ground, and then turned once 
 more to look at the Frenchmen and the Armenian family. 
 
 The old man was, by this time, barefooted. The little 
 Frenchman had appropriated his last boot, and was knock- 
 ing the two together. The old man with a sob made some 
 remark, but Pierre merely glanced at him ; his whole atten- 
 tion was attracted to the Frenchman in the capote, who, slowly 
 swaggering, had by this time approached the young woman, 
 and, drawing his hands from his pockets, was just taking her 
 by the neck. 
 
 The beautiful Armianka continued sitting in the same 
 impassive posture, with her long lashes drooping, and appar- 
 ently neither saw nor felt what the soldier was doing to her. 
 
 By the time Pierre had taken the several steps that sepa- 
 rated him from the Frenchmen, the lank marauder in the 
 capote had already snatched her necklace from the Armianka s 
 neck, and the young woman, clasping her hands around her 
 throat, uttered a piercing shriek.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 423 
 
 "Laissez cette femme ! Let this woman alone ! " roared 
 Pierre in a furious voice, clutching the lank, stooping soldier 
 by the shoulder, and flinging him off. The soldier fell flat, 
 picked himself up, and ran away. But his comrade, throwing 
 down his booty of boots, drew his cutlass, and advanced 
 threateningly against Pierre. " See here ! None of your 
 nonsense ! " he cried. 
 
 Pierre was in that rapt state of fury whiqh, when it came 
 upon him, made him oblivious of everything, and multiplied 
 his strength tenfold. He threw himself upon the barefooted 
 Frenchman, and, before the fellow had time to use his cutlass, 
 he had knocked him over, and was belaboring him with his 
 fists. 
 
 The people gathered around with an approving yell, but 
 just at that instant appeared around the corner a mounted 
 squad of French uhlans. The uhlans came up to Pierre and 
 the Frenchman at a trot, and surrounded them. Pierre remem- 
 bered nothing of what followed. He only remembered that 
 he was pounding some one, that he was being pounded, and 
 that, finally, he became conscious that his arms were bound ; 
 that a crowd of French soldiers were standing round him, and 
 searching his clothes. 
 
 "He has a dagger, lieutenant/' were the first words that 
 Pierre comprehended. 
 
 "Aha, armed ! " said the officer, and he turned to the bare- 
 footed soldier who had been taken at the same time with 
 Pierre. 
 
 "Very good; you shall tell all this at the court-martial,'' 
 said the officer. And immediately he turned to Pierre. 
 "Parlez-vous franyais, vous?" Pierre glared around him 
 with bloodshot eyes, and made no reply. Evidently, his face 
 must have seemed ver}^ terrible, because the officer gave a 
 whispered order, and four other uhlans detached themselves 
 from the squad, and stationed themselves on each side of 
 Pierre. 
 
 "Parlez-vous frangais?" asked the officer a second time, 
 keeping at a respectful distance from him. " Bring the inter- 
 preter." 
 
 A little man in the dress of a Russian civilian came forth 
 from the ranks. Pierre instantly knew by his attire and his 
 accent that he was a Frenchman from some Moscow shop. 
 
 "He does not look like a man of the common people," said 
 the interpreter, eying Pierre. 
 
 " Oh, ho ! it seems to me he has the appearance of being
 
 424 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 one of the incendiaries," said the officer. " Ask him who he 
 is," he added. 
 
 "Who are you?"* demanded the interpreter. "You 
 should reply to the authorities," said he. 
 
 " I will not tell you who I am. I am your prisoner. Take 
 me away." 
 
 " Ah, ha ! " exclaimed the officer, scowling. " Come on." T 
 
 A crowd had gathered around the uhlans. Closest of all to 
 Pierre stood the pock-marked peasant woman with the little 
 girl. When the squad started she sprang forward. ^ 
 
 " Where are they taking you, my good friend ? " $ she de- 
 manded. " The little girl ! what shall I do with the little girl 
 if she isn't theirs ? " insisted the woman. 
 
 " What does this woman want ? " asked the officer. 
 
 Pierre was like one drunk. His rapt state of mind was 
 still more intensified at the sight of the little girl whom he 
 had saved. 
 
 " What does she want ? " he exclaimed. " She has brought 
 my daughter, whom I just saved from the flames," he ex 
 plained. " Adieu ! " and he himself, not knowing why he 
 should have told this aimless falsehood, marched off with reso- 
 lute, enthusiastic steps, surrounded by the Frenchmen. 
 
 This patrol of French horsemen was one of those sent out 
 by Durosnel's orders, to put a stop to pillaging and especially 
 to apprehend the incendiaries who, according to the general 
 impression prevalent that day among the French, were the 
 cause of the conflagrations. After riding up and down several 
 streets, the squad had gathered in some half-dozen Eussians 
 
 a shop-keeper, two seminarists, a muzhik, and a man-ser- 
 vant and a few marauders. 
 
 But of all the suspects the most suspicious of all seemed 
 Pierre. When they were all taken to the place of detention, 
 
 a great mansion on the Zubovsky Val, where the guard- 
 house was established, Pierre was given a special, separate 
 room, under a strong guard. 
 
 * The interpreter says Ti kto ? instead of Tui kto ? 
 
 t " II n'a Vair d'/i homme dupeuple." " Oh oh! $a ro'a bien I'aird'un des 
 incendiaires. Demandez-lui ce qu'll es." " Je ne vous dirai pas qui je suis. 
 Je suisvotreprisonnier. Emmenez-moi." " Ah! ah! marchons." 
 
 J Golubchik tui mo'i (little pigeon thou mine).
 
 WAK A^D PEACE 
 
 BY 
 
 COUNT LYOF N. TOLSTOI 
 
 FROM THE RUSSIAN BY 
 
 NATHAN HASKELL DOLE 
 
 AUTHORIZED TRANSLATION 
 
 IN FOUR VOLUMES 
 VOL. IV 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 THOMAS Y. CROWELL & COMPANY 
 PUBLISHERS
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1889, BY 
 T. Y. CROWELL & CO. 
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1917, BY 
 NATHAN HASKELL DOLE
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 VOL. IV. PART FIRST. 
 
 CHAPTER I, 
 
 IN Petersburg at this time in the highest circles was raging 
 with greater violence than ever before the complicated battle 
 i between the parties of Eumyantsef, the French, Marya 
 JFeodorovna, the Tsesarevitch, and others, absorbing, as always, 
 the energies of the court drones. But Petersburg life went on 
 in its old channels tranquil, sumptuous, engrossed only in 
 phantoms and reflections of life, and any one in the current of 
 ! this life had need to exercise great energy to recognize the peril 
 i and the difficult position in which the Eussian nation was placed. 
 | There were the same levees and balls, the same French thea- 
 tre, the same court interests, the same official interests, and 
 the same intrigues. 
 
 It was only in the very highest circles that any efforts were 
 made to realize the difficulties of the actual situation. It was 
 told in a whisper how differently the two empresses behaved 
 in such trying circumstances. The Empress Maria Feodo- 
 i rovna, concerned for the safety of the charities and educational 
 establishments of which she was the patroness, made her ar- 
 rangements to have all these institutions transferred to Kazan, 
 and the effects of these institutions had already been removed. 
 The Empress Elizabeth, * on the other hand, when the 
 question arose, what she wished done, replied, with that gen- 
 uine Eussian patriotism characteristic of her, that she had no 
 orders to give in regard to the governmental institutions, since 
 that was the province of the sovereign ; while, as far as what 
 depended upon her personally, she declared that she should 
 be the last to leave Petersburg. 
 
 On the seventh of September, the same day as the battle 
 of Borodino, Anna Pavlovna gave a reception, the flower 
 
 * Yelizavieta Alekseyevna, the consort of the emperor, in contradistinc- 
 tion to the empress dowagei', 
 
 VOL.4. 1. 1
 
 2 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 of wnich was to be the reading of a letter from his eminence 
 the metropolitan, sent to the sovereign together with a sacred 
 picture of his holiness Saint Sergii. This letter was consid- 
 ered a model of patriotic, spiritual eloquence. It was to be 
 read by Prince Vasili himself, who was famous for his skill 
 as a reader. (He had even read at the empress's ! ) His art 
 of reading consisted in decanting the words now in a loud 
 tone and now in a sweet tone, now giving a desperate roar, 
 now a tender murmur, absolutely independent of the signifi- 
 cance of the words, so that it was wholly a matter of chance 
 whether the roar or the murmur fell on one word or another. 
 
 This reading, like everything that happened at Anna Pav- 
 lovna's receptions, had a political significance. This particular 
 evening there were to be present a number of important 
 people whom it was necessary to put to shame for attending 
 the French theatre, and to stir to a patriotic state of mind. 
 
 Already a considerable number of guests had gathered, but 
 Anna Pavlovna did not yet see in her drawing-room all whose 
 presence was deemed necessary, and accordingly she postponed 
 the reading and permitted general conversation. 
 
 The chief item of news that day in Petersburg was the 
 Countess Bezukhaya's illness. The countess had been unex- 
 pectedly taken ill several days before ; she had missed several 
 assemblies of which she was the adornment, and rumor had it 
 that she received no one, and that, instead of the famous 
 Petersburg doctors who had usually prescribed for her, she 
 had intrusted her case to an Italian doctor, who was treating 
 her by some new and extraordinary method. 
 
 All knew perfectly well that the charming countess's illness 
 arose from the difficulty of marrying two husbands at once, 
 and that the Italian's treatment consisted in the removal of 
 these difficulties ; but in Anna Pavlovna's presence no one 
 even dared to think about this ; it was as though it were not 
 known by any one. 
 
 " They say the poor countess is very ill. The doctor says it 
 is angina pectoris." 
 
 " Angina ? Oh, that is a terrible illness." 
 
 " They say the rivals are reconciled, thanks to this angina." 
 The word anyine was pronounced with great unction. 
 
 " The old count, I am told, is very pathetic. He wept like 
 a child when the doctor told him that it was a dangerous 
 ease." 
 
 " Oh, it would be a terrible loss ! She's a bewitching 
 creature ! "
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 3 
 
 " You were speaking of the poor countess," said Anna Pav- 
 lovna, joining the group. " I sent to hear how she was. They 
 informed me that she was a little better. Oh, unquestionably 
 she is the most charming woman in the world," said Anna 
 Pavlovna, with a smile at her own enthusiasm. " We belong 
 to different camps, but that does not prevent me from esteem- 
 ing her as she deserves. She is very unhappy," * added Anna 
 Pavlovna. 
 
 Supposing that Anna Pavlovna by these .words slightly 
 
 lifted the veil of mystery that shrouded the countess's illness, 
 
 one indiscreet young man allowed himself to express his 
 
 'amazement that physicians of repute had not been called, but 
 
 ! that a charlatan, who might very easily administer dangerous 
 
 i remedies, was treating the countess. 
 
 " You may be better informed than I am," suddenly said 
 j Anna Pavlovna, with a cutting tone, to the inexperienced 
 I young man. " But I have been told on very good authority 
 I that this doctor is a very learned and very skilful man. He 
 I is private physician to the Queen of Spain." f 
 
 And having thus annihilated the young man, Anna Pavlovna 
 turned to Bilibin, who, in another circle, having wrinkled up 
 his skin, and evidently made ready to smooth it- out again 
 preliminary to getting off a witticism, was speaking about the 
 Austrians. 
 
 "I find it charming," said he, referring to a diplomatic 
 document, which had been sent to accompany some Austrian 
 standards captured by Wittgenstein the hero of Petropolis, 
 le heros de Petropol as he was called in Petersburg. 
 
 " What, what is that ? " said Anna Pavlovna, turning to 
 him with a view to causing a silence so that the mot which 
 she had already heard might be more effective. 
 
 And Bilibin repeated the following authentic words of the 
 diplomatic despatch which he himself had drawn up. 
 
 " ' The emperor returns the Austrian flags,' " said Bilibin, 
 " ' friendly flags that had lost their way when he found them.' " 
 
 * " On dit que la pauvre comtesse est tres-mal. Le medecin dit que c'est 
 Vangine pectorale." " L'angine ? Oh, c'est tine maladie terrible .' " " On 
 dit que les^ rivaux se sont reconciles grace a Vangine." " Le vieux comte est 
 \touchant a ce qu'on dit. II apleure c.omme un enfant quand le medecin lui a 
 I dit que le cas etait dangereux. Oh ! ce serait uhe perte terrible. C'est une 
 \femmeravissante." " Vous parlez de la pauvre comtesse. J'ai envoye' savoir 
 \'de ses nouvelles. Onm'adit qu'elle allait un peu mieux. Oh! sans doute, 
 c'est la plus charmante femme du monde. Nous appartenons a des camps 
 differents mais cela ne m'empeche pas de I'estimer comme elle merite. Elle 
 est bien malheureuse." 
 
 t " Vos informations peuvent etre meilleures que les miennes. Maisjesais 
 de bonne source que ce medecin est un homme tres-savant et tres-habile."
 
 4 WAR AND PEACZ. 
 
 "Delightful, delightful!" exclaimed Prince Vasili. 
 
 " The way to Warsaw, perhaps/ 7 * said Prince Ippolit unex- 
 pectedly, in a loud voice. All looked at him without under- 
 standing what he meant. Prince Ippolit also looked round 
 with a complacent smile. He had just as little idea as the 
 rest had of what the words he had spoken meant. During the 
 time of his diplomatic career, he had more than once observed 
 that a few words thus unexpectedly thrown in seem very smart, 
 and at every chance he made such remarks, the first that came 
 to his tongue. " It may be capital," he thought, " but, even if 
 it isn't a success, still they will be able to make something 
 out of it." 
 
 In fact, the awkward silence that ensued was broken by the 
 appearance of the insufficiently patriotic individual whom 
 Anna Pavlovna was expecting and hoped to convert, and she 
 with a smile, and threatening Prince Ippolit with her finger, 
 beckoned Prince Vasili to the table, and, placing two candles 
 and the manuscript before him, invited him to begin. 
 
 General silence : 
 
 " Most gracious Sovereign and Emperor" declaimed Prince 
 Vasili sternly, and gave his audience a look as much as to ask, 
 " Who had anything to say against that ? " " Our chief capi- 
 tal city, Moscow, the new Jerusalem, receives ITS Christ" he 
 gave a sudden emphasis on the pronoun ITS. "Like as a 
 mother embracing her fervently devoted sons, and catching sight 
 through the gathering murk of the splendid glory of thy 
 realm, she sings in her rapture, ' Hosanna ! Blessed is he that 
 cometh ! ' " 
 
 Prince Vasili uttered these final words in a voice suggestive 
 of tears. 
 
 Bilibin attentively gazed at his finger-nails; and several 
 evidently felt abashed, and seemed to be asking, " What have 
 we done amiss ? " Anna Pavlovna, in a whisper, went ahead 
 with the next sentence like an old woman repeating the 
 prayer at communion : "If the insolent and brazen Goliath" '. 
 she began. 
 
 Prince Vasili read on : 
 
 "If the insolent and brazen Goliath from the confines of 
 France bring his homicidal horrors upon the lands of Russia, 
 humble faith, that sling of the Russian David, shall smite 
 unexpectedly the head of his bloodthirsty pride. This image 
 
 * " L'empereur renvoie les drapeaux autrichiens, drapeaux amis et egares 
 qiCil a trouvt hors de la route." " Charmant, charmant ! " " C'est la route 
 de Varsovie, peut-etre."
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 5 
 
 of Saint Sergii, the ancient zealot of our country* s good, is sent 
 to your imperial majesty. I regret that my failing powers 
 prevent me from rejoicing in the sight of your behoved face. 
 Earnest prayers I shall raise to heaven : may the Almighty 
 increase the generation of the righteous, and fulfil your 
 majesty's pious hopes" 
 
 " Quel force ! Quel style ! " were the encomiums passed 
 upon reader and author alike. 
 
 Animated by this discourse, Anna Pavlovna's guests for 
 a long time still discussed the condition of the country, and 
 made various predictions about the result of the battle which 
 it was known was to be fought about that time. " Vous 
 verrez you will see," exclaimed Anna Pavlovna. " We shall 
 have news to-morrow : it's the sovereign's birthday. I have a 
 happy presentiment." 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 ANNA PAVLOVNA'S presentiment was in fact justified. 
 
 On the following day, during the Te Deum chanted at the 
 palace in honor of the emperor's birthday, Prince Volkonsky 
 was called out from the chapel and handed an envelope from 
 Prince Kutuzof. This contained Kutuzof's report written 
 from Tatarinovo on the day of the battle. Kutuzof wrote 
 that the Russians had not fallen back a step, that the French 
 had lost far more than ours, that he made his report in all 
 haste from the field of battle, without having had time, as yet, 
 to receive all details. 
 
 Of course it was a victory. And instantly, without dismiss- 
 ing the audience, a thanksgiving was sung to the Creator for 
 his aid and for the victory. 
 
 Anna Pavlovna's presentiment was justified ; and through- 
 out the city there reigned, all the morning, joyfully festive 
 enthusiasm. All considered the victory complete, and many 
 went so far as to talk about Napoleon himself being a pris- 
 oner, and of his overthrow and the choice of a new sovereign 
 for France. 
 
 Remote from the scene of action, and in the midst of court 
 life, it was thoroughly difficult to realize events in their com- 
 pleteness and real importance. Involuntarily, events in gen- 
 eral grouped themselves around some special incident. Thus, 
 in the present instance, the chief joy of the courtiers was 
 included not so much in the fact that we had won a victory,
 
 8 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 as in the fact that the news of this victory had arrived pre- 
 cisely on the sovereign's birthday. It was a sort of success- 
 ful surprise. 
 
 In Kutuzof's report mention was also made of the losses 
 suffered by the Russians, and especially singled out for men- 
 tion were Tutehkof, Bagration, Kutaisof. Accordingly, also, 
 the melancholy side of the occurrence, as it presented itself 
 there, in the Petersburg world, was made concrete in the one 
 fact of Kutaisof's death. All knew him : he was a favorite 
 with the sovereign ; he was young and interesting. On this 
 day all who met said to each other : " How wonderfully it all 
 came about ! Eight in the midst of the mass ! And what a 
 loss, Kutaisof ! Akh ! what a shame ! " 
 
 " What did I tell you about Kutuzof ? " now exclaimed 
 Prince Vasili, with all the pride of a prophet. " I always said 
 that he was the only one capable of beating Napoleon." 
 
 But on the following day no news was received from the 
 army, and the general voice began to be anxious. The cour- 
 tiers suffered from the painful state of ignorance in which the 
 sovereign was left. 
 
 " What a position for the sovereign ! " said the courtiers ; 
 and before the third day had passed they already began to 
 pass judgment on Kutuzof, who was regarded as the cause of 
 the sovereign's uneasiness. 
 
 Prince Vasili on that day ceased to boast of his protege 
 Kutuzof, but maintained a discreet silence when the com- 
 mander-in-chief was mentioned. 
 
 Moreover, on the evening of this same, day, as though all 
 conspired together to alarm and disquiet the Petersburgers, 
 another terrible piece of news was announced. The Countess 
 Elena Bezukhaya suddenly died of that terrible disease which 
 her friends found it so pleasant to name. 
 
 Officially, in all the great coteries it was declared that the 
 Countess Bezukhaya had died of a terrible attack of angine 
 pectorals, but in select circles details were forthcoming : how 
 le medecin intime de la reine d' Espagne had prescribed for 
 Ellen small doses of some medicine so as to bring about cer- 
 tain effects, and how Ellen, worried because the old count had 
 some suspicion of her, and because her husband, to whom she 
 had written (that miserable, depraved Pierre), did not reply to 
 her, suddenly took a tremendous dose of the drug prescribed, 
 and died in agony because help could not be got to her. It was 
 said that Prince Vasili and the old count had at first blamed 
 the Italian ; but the Italian had showed them such letters
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 1 
 
 from the late unfortunate countess that they had instantly let 
 him go. 
 
 Gossip in general was confined to these three unhappy 
 events : the ignorance in which the sovereign was left, the 
 loss of Kutaisof, and Ellen's death. 
 
 On the third day after Kutuzof's despatch had been re- 
 ceived, a landed proprietor arrived at Petersburg from Mos- 
 cow, and soon the whole city was ringing with the news that 
 Moscow was abandoned to the French. 
 
 This was terrible ! What a position it placed the sovereign 
 in ! Kutuzof was a traitor, and Prince Vasili, while receiving 
 visites de condoleance for the death of his daughter, speaking 
 of that same Kutuzof whom he had but shortly before been 
 praising (it was pardonable that in his grief he should forget 
 what he said before), declared that it was idle to expect any- 
 thing else from a blind and lewd old man. " I am only 
 amazed that the fate of Russia should have been intrusted 
 to such a man ! " 
 
 This news being as yet unofficial, there was still room for 
 doubt, but on the following day the following despatch came 
 from Count Rostopchin : 
 
 "Prince Kutuzof's adjutant brought me a letter wherein he demands 
 of me police officers to conduct the army to the Riazan road. He pro- 
 tests his regret at abandoning Moscow. Your majesty, Kutuzof's act 
 decides the fate of the capital and of your empire. Russia will thrill 
 when she learns of the abandonment of that city, which is the focus of 
 the greatness of Russia, where lie the ashes of your ancestors. I follow 
 the army. I have sent everything away. It remains for me only to weep 
 for the misfortune of my fatherland." ' 
 
 On receiving this letter, the sovereign sent Prince Volkon- 
 sky with the following rescript to Kutuzof : 
 
 "Prince Mikhail Iliaronovitch! Since September 9 I have had no 
 report from you. Meantime I have received, by the way of Yaroslavl, 
 under date of September 13, from the Governor-General of Moscow, 
 the melancholy tidings that you and the army have decided to abandon 
 Moscow. You may imagine the effect which these tidings produced upon 
 me, and your silence deepens my amazement. I send General-Adjutant 
 Prince Yolkonsky with this to learn from you the condition of the army 
 and what reasons compelled you to such a melancholy decision."
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 days after the abandonment of Moscow, a messenger 
 from Kutuzof arrived in Petersburg with the official confirma- 
 tion of the abandonment of Moscow. This courier was the 
 Frenchman Michaud, but, though a foreigner, yet a Russian in 
 heart and soul * as he himself declared. 
 
 The sovereign immediately gave the courier audience in 
 his cabinet in his palace on the Kamennui Ostrof. Michaud, 
 who had never seen Moscow before this campaign and could 
 not speak Russian, nevertheless felt greatly agitated when he 
 appeared before "notre tres-gracieux souverain" (as he ex- 
 pressed it in a letter) with the tidings of the burning of 
 Moscow the flames of which lighted up his way. Though 
 the source of Mr. Michaud's chagrin must have been very 
 different from that from which the grief of the Russian peo- 
 ple proceeded, Michaud drew such a melancholy face, as he was 
 ushered into the sovereign's cabinet, that the sovereign instantly 
 asked him : "Are you bringing me sad news, colonel ? " 
 
 "Very sad, sire," replied Michaud with a sigh, and drop- 
 ping his eyes, " V abandon de Moscou ! " 
 
 " Can they have surrendered my ancient capital without a 
 battle ? " exclaimed the emperor, an angry flush suddenly 
 rising in his face. 
 
 Michaud respectfully delivered the message with which he 
 had been intrusted by Kutuzof ; to wit, that it was a sheer 
 impossibility to accept an engagement at Moscow, and that as 
 but one choice was left, to lose both the army and Moscow, or 
 Moscow alone, the field marshal had felt it his duty to choose 
 the latter alternative. 
 
 The sovereign listened in silence, not looking at Michaud. 
 
 " Has the enemy entered the city ? " he demanded. 
 
 "Yes, your majesty, and it is a heap of ashes by this time. 
 When I left it, 'twas all on fire," f said Michaud resolutely ; 
 but when he glanced at the emperor, Michaud was horror- 
 struck at what he had said. The sovereign was breathing 
 with quick, labored respirations ; his lower lip trembled, and 
 his handsome blue eyes for an instant overflowed with tears. 
 
 But this lasted only a moment. The sovereign suddenly 
 
 * Quoique etranger, russe de coeur et d'dme. 
 
 t " L'ennemi est-il etrtf en ville?" " Oui, sire, et elle est en cendres a 
 Vheure qu'il est. Je Vai laissee toute en flammes."
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 9 
 
 scowled as though annoyed at himself for his weakness. And, 
 raising his head, he turned to Michaud with a steady voice : 
 
 "I see, colonel, from all that is happening to us," said he, 
 " that Providence demands great sacrifices of us I am ready 
 to submit to his will ; but tell me, Michaud, how did you 
 leave the army which saw my ancient capital thus abandoned 
 without striking a blow ? Did you not see any signs of dis- 
 couragement ? " 
 
 Michaud, seeing this calmness of his " very gracious sover- 
 eign," instantly recovered his own presence of mind, but he was 
 not yet ready to reply to the emperor's straightforward and un- 
 equivocal question, which demanded a straightforward answer. 
 
 " Your majesty, will you allow me to speak freely, like a 
 loyal soldier ? " he asked for the sake of gaining time. 
 
 " Colonel, that is what I always demand," said the emperor. 
 " Conceal nothing from me : I wish to know absolutely how 
 matters stand." 
 
 "Your majesty," said Michaud, with a shrewd but scarcely 
 perceptible smile on his lips, having now collected himself 
 sufficiently to formulate his answer in a graceful and respect- 
 ful jeu de mots : "Your majesty, I left the whole army, from 
 the chiefs down to the last soldier, without exception, in a 
 state of terrible, desperate alarm " 
 
 " How is that ? " interrupted the sovereign, darkly frowning. 
 " My Russians allow themselves to be cast down by misfor- 
 tune ? Never ! " 
 
 This was all that Michaud wished so as to complete his 
 jeu de mots. 
 
 " Your majesty," said he, with a respectful but mischievous 
 expression, "their only fear is that your majesty, through 
 kindness of heart, will be persuaded to make peace. They 
 are burning to fight," said the accredited representative of the 
 Eussian people, "and to prove to your majesty by the sacri- 
 fice of their lives how devoted they are." * 
 
 "Ah ! " said the sovereign, re-assured, and with an affectionate 
 
 * " Je vois, colonel, par tout ce qui nous arrive, que la Providence exige de 
 grands sacrifices de nous, Je suis pret a me soumettre a toutes ses volonte"s ; 
 mats dites moi, Michaud, comment avez-vous laissti I'arme'e en voyant ainsi, 
 sans coup ferir, abandonner mon ancienne capitale ? N' avez-vous pas aperqu 
 du decouragement?" " Sire, mepermettrez-vous de vous parler franchement 
 en loyal militaire ? " " Colonel, je V exige toujours. Ne me cachez rien; je 
 veux savoir absolument ce qu'il en est." "Sire! fai laisst toute Varmee, 
 depuis les chefs jusqu'au dernier soldat, sans exception dans une crainte e~pou- 
 vantable, effrayante ! " " Comment ca ? Mes Russes se laisseront-ils abattre 
 par le malheur ? Jamais ! " "Sire, Us craignent seulement que votre majeste 
 par bonttf de cozitr ne se laisse persuader defaire la paix. Us brulent de com- 
 battre et de prouver a votre majeste par le sacrifice de leur vie t combien Us lui 
 font devours."
 
 10 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 gleam flashing from his eyes, as he tapped Michaud on the 
 shoulder, " you relieve me, colonel." 
 
 The sovereign then dropped his head and remained for some 
 time lost in thought. " Very well ! Keturn to the army," said he, 
 drawing himself up to his full height, and turning to Michaud 
 with a gentle but majestic gesture. u And tell our brave men, 
 tell all my good subjects everywhere you go, that when I have 
 no soldiers left, I will place myself at the head of my beloved 
 nobles and of my worthy peasants, and thus I will exhaust the 
 last resources of my empire. It will furnish me yet with more 
 than my enemies think," said the sovereign, growing more and 
 more moved. " But if ever it were written in the decrees of 
 Divine Providence," he went on to say, raising to heaven his 
 beautiful, kindly eyes gleaming with emotion, " that my family 
 should cease to reign on the throne of my ancestors, then, 
 after having exhausted all the means that are in my power, I 
 will allow my beard to grow to here " (the sovereign placed his 
 hand half-way down his chest) " and I will go and eat potatoes 
 with the humblest of my peasants sooner than sign the shame 
 of my country and of my beloved nation, whose sacrifices I can 
 appreciate." * 
 
 Having said these words in a voice full of emotion, the sov- 
 ereign suddenly turned round, as though he wished to hide 
 from Michaud the tears that filled his eyes, and walked to the 
 end of his cabinet. After standing there a few moments, he 
 came back to Michaud with long strides and gave his arm a 
 powerful squeeze below the elbow. His handsome, kindly face 
 was flushed, and his eyes flashed with decision and fury : 
 
 " Colonel Michaud, forget not what I have said to you here : 
 perhaps some day we shall recall it with pleasure either 
 Napoleon or I," said the sovereign, laying his hand on his 
 chest. " We can no longer reign together. I have learned to 
 know him ; he shall never deceive me again ! " f And the 
 sovereign, with a frown, relapsed into silence. 
 
 * " Eh bien, retournez a Varmee et dites a nos braves, dites a lous mesbons- 
 sujets partout oil voits passerez, que quandje n'aurais plus aucun soldat, je me 
 mettrai, moi-meme, a la tele de ma chere noblesse, de mes bons pay sans, et 
 Vuserai ainsi jusqu'a la derniere ressource de mon empire. II m'e.Ji offre 
 encore plus que mes ennemis ne pensent, Mais sijamais il fut ecrit dans 
 les decrets de la Divine Providence que ma dinastie dut cesser de rec/ner 
 sur le trone de mes ancetres, alors, apres avoir epuise tous les mouens qui sont 
 en mon pouvoir,jeme laisserai croitre la barbe jusqu'ici etfirai manger 
 des pommes de terre arec le dernier de mes pay sans plutot de signer la honte de 
 mapatrie et de ma chere nation, dontje sais apprecier les sacrifices." 
 
 1 "Colonel Michaud, n-oubliez pas ce que je vous dis id : peut-etre qu'un 
 jour nous nous le rapellerons avec plaisir. Napoleon ou moi ! Nous ne 
 pouvonsplus reyner ensemble. J'ai appris a le connaitre, il ne me trompera 
 plus."
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 11 
 
 Michaud, though a foreigner, yet a Eussian in heart and 
 soul, felt at that solemn moment " enthousiasme " by all that 
 he had just heard (as he said afterwards), and in the expres- 
 sions that followed, he uttered not only his own feelings but 
 also the feelings of the Kussian people, whose representative 
 he considered himself : 
 
 " Sire ! " said he, " your majesty at this moment seals the 
 glory of the nation and the safety of Europe." * 
 
 The sovereign with an inclination of the head dismissed 
 Michaud. 
 
 CHAPTEE IV. 
 
 AT the time when Eussia was half conquered, and the in- 
 habitants of Moscow were fleeing to distant provinces, and 
 levy after levy of the landwehr was being raised for the de- 
 fence of the fatherland, we, who were not alive at the time, 
 involuntarily presuppose that all the men of Eussia, from 
 small to great, were solely occupied in sacrificing themselves 
 in saving the country or in bewailing its ruin. 
 
 Stories and descriptions of that period, all without excep- 
 tion, speak of self-sacrifice, love for the fatherland, the des- 
 peration, sorrow, and heroism of the Eussians. 
 
 In reality, this was not so at all. It merely seems so to us 
 from the fact that we are occupied with the general historical 
 interest of the time and fail to see all those personal individ- 
 ual interests which occupied private individuals. But, in real- 
 ity, those personal interests seemed to the men of that day so 
 much more significant than the general interests, that the gen- 
 eral interests were never felt at all, and were scarcely regarded. 
 The majority of the men of that time paid no attention at all 
 to the general course of events, and were merely guided by 
 the personal interests of that present. And those very men 
 were the most important factors of that time. 
 
 Those who strove to comprehend the general course of 
 events, and were anxious by their self-sacrifice and heroism to 
 take part in it, were the most useless members of society. 
 They saw everything in a wrong sense ; and all that they did, 
 in spite of their good intentions, proved to be profitless waste, 
 like the regiments organized by Pierre and Mamonof, which 
 pillaged the Eussian villages ; or like the lint picked by high- 
 
 * " Sire, votre majestt signe dans ce moment la gloire de la nation et le salvt 
 de V Europe."
 
 12 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 born young ladies, which never reached the wounded, and 
 soon. 
 
 Even those who, in their fondness for subtilities and the ex- 
 pression of their feelings; talked about the actual state of 
 Eussia, involuntarily gave to their speeches the stamp of their 
 impressions, or pretences, or falsehoods, or profitless criticisms 
 and animosities against men who were blamed for that for 
 which no one could really be held responsible. 
 
 In historical events more strictly than elsewhere holds 
 the prohibition against tasting the fruit of the tree of knowl- 
 edge. Only unconscious activity brings forth fruit, and a 
 man who plays a part in any historical event never realizes 
 its significance. If he tries to realize it, he is astounded by 
 his barrenness. 
 
 The significance of the event that took place at that time 
 in Eussia was proportionately incomprehensible according to 
 the part which any man took in it. In Petersburg and the 
 provinces remote from Moscow, ladies and men in militia 
 uniforms mourned over Eussia and the capital, and talked 
 about self-sacrifice and oilier such things ; but in the army 
 which was retreating from Moscow, almost nothing was said 
 or thought about Moscow ; and as they looked at the con- 
 flagration no one dreamed of wreaking vengeance on the 
 French, but they thought of the next quarter's pay, about the 
 next halting-place, about Matrioshka the sutling- wench,* and 
 the like. 
 
 Nikolai Eostof, without any pretence of self-sacrifice, but 
 fortuitously, the war having surprised him while he was still 
 in the service, took a genuine and continuous part in the de- 
 fence of his country, and accordingly looked without despair 
 and without sombre forebodings on what was then happening 
 in Eussia. 
 
 If any one had asked him what he thought about the con- 
 dition of Eussia at the time, he would have replied that it 
 wasn't for him to think about it, that Kutuzof and the others 
 were for that, but he had heard that more regiments were 
 mobilizing, and that there would be still more fighting, and 
 that if nothing happened it would not be astonishing if in a 
 couple of years he were given a regiment. 
 
 It was because he took this view of affairs that he not 
 only felt no compunction at being deprived of participation in 
 the last engagement, having received word that he was ap- 
 pointed commander of a remount expedition to Voronezh 
 * Marketantka
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 13 
 
 after horses for his division, but was even perfectly delighted, 
 and took no pains to hide it from his comrades, who were 
 generous enough to sympathize with him. 
 
 A few days before the battle of Borodino, Nikolai received 
 the money and the necessary papers, and, sending a hussar on 
 in advance, he started for Voronezh by post relays. 
 
 Only a man who has experienced this, that is, who has 
 spent several months in succession in the atmosphere of 
 military campaign life, can comprehend the delight which 
 Nikolai experienced when he passed out of the circle beyond 
 which there were no more foraging parties, provision trains, 
 and ambulances ; when he ceased to see soldiers, army wagons, 
 the dirty traces of a camp, and his eyes were greeted by 
 villages with peasant men and women, with country land- 
 holders, mansions, fields with pasturing cattle, post station- 
 houses with their sleepy agents, he felt such joy as though he 
 saw it all for the first time in his life. 
 
 One thing especially kept him in a perpetual state of sur- 
 prise and delight, and this was the sight of young and healthy 
 women, who did not each have a dozen officers tagging 
 after her all the time, and women who found it a flattering 
 novelty to have an officer, as he passed by, stop and chatter 
 with them. 
 
 In the most jovial frame of mind, Nikolai reached Voronezh 
 at evening, put up at the inn, ordered all that he had so long 
 been lacking at the front, and on the next day, after getting 
 a clean shave, and putting on his long unused dress uniform, 
 he went to pay his respects to the city officials. 
 
 The commander of the landwehr was a civil general, an old 
 man who evidently took great delight in his military title and 
 rank. He received Nikolai sternly, thinking that this was 
 proper in a military man of his importance, and questioned 
 him in a very significant way, approving or disapproving as 
 though it were his special prerogative, and as though he were 
 the judge of how the general course of the war was directed. 
 
 Nikolai was so happy that this merely amused him. 
 
 From the commander of the landwehr he went to the 
 governor. The governor was a lively little man, very friendly 
 and simple-hearted. He told Nikolai of several establish- 
 ments where he might obtain horses, recommended to him a 
 horse-dealer in the city and a landed proprietor twenty versts 
 from the city, who kept good horses, and he promised him 
 any sort of co-operation, 
 
 " Are you Count Ilya Audrey evitch^s son ? My wife used
 
 14 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 to be very good friends with your matushka. On Thursdays 
 I always have a reception : to-day is Thursday ; do me the 
 favor to come informally," said the governor as Nikolai took 
 his leave. 
 
 Immediately on leaving the governor's, Nikolai took post 
 horses, and, accompanied by his quartermaster, drove rapidly 
 the twenty versts so as to see the stud owned by the landed 
 proprietor. 
 
 Nikolai found everything jolly and comfortable during this 
 his first visit at Voronezh, and, as is usually the case when a 
 man is in a good frame of mind, everything was easily and 
 satisfactorily settled. 
 
 The landed proprietor whom Nikolai went to see was an 
 old bachelor, formerly a cavalryman, a connoisseur of horses, 
 a huntsman, the master of spiced vodka * a hundred years 
 old, of old Hungarian, and of marvellous horses. 
 
 Nikolai, in two words, bought, for six thousand rubles, 
 seventeen stallions, " assorted," as he expressed it, " for the 
 show pieces of his remount." After a good dinner, and 
 drinking considerable of admirable Hungarian, Ilostof, ex- 
 changing kisses with the proprietor, with whom he was 
 already on the most intimate terms of friendship, drove back 
 over the horrible road (which, however, did not affect his 
 spirits), constantly urging his yamshchik to do his very best 
 to get him back to the governor's in time for the reception. 
 
 Having changed his clothes, scented himself, and wet his 
 hair down with cold water, Nikolai, though rather late, but 
 with the proverb " better late than never " ready for use, ap- 
 peared at the governor's. 
 
 It was not a ball, and it was not formally announced that 
 there would be dancing ; but Katerina Petrovna, as all kne\y, 
 would play some valses and ecossaises on the harpsichord, and 
 there might be some dancing ; and all the guests took this for 
 granted, and came in ball costumes. 
 
 Provincial life in 1812 was pretty much the same as ever, 
 with this sole difference, that it was unusually gay in the little 
 city, owing to the presence of a number of wealthy families 
 from Moscow, and to the fact that, as a general thing, at this 
 time there was unprecedented luxury of living observable (the 
 sea being but knee-deep to drunken men), while the small talk 
 that is a necessity among people, and which, hitherto, had 
 been concerned merely with the weather and petty gossip. 
 now turned on the state of Moscow, the war, and Napoleon. 
 * Zapekanka : vodka and honey boiled with spices.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 15 
 
 The society that met at the governor's was the best society 
 of Voronezh. 
 
 There were any number of ladies, there were several of 
 Nikolai's Moscow acquaintances ; but there was not a man who 
 could in any way compare with the Georgievsky cavalier, the 
 gallant hussar, the good-natured, well-bred Count Rostof ! 
 
 Among the men was an Italian, who had been an officer in 
 the French army, and was now a prisoner, and Nikolai felt 
 that this prisoner's presence still further enhanced his conse- 
 quence as a Russian hero. It was a kind of a trophy ! Nikolai 
 felt this, and it seemed to him that this was the way they all 
 regarded the Italian, and so he treated him cordially, but with 
 a certain dignity and reserve. 
 
 As soon as Nikolai entered the room in his hussar's uniform, 
 diffusing around him an odor of perfumes and of wine, and he 
 himself said, and heard others say, again and again, the words 
 vaut mieux tard quejamais better late than never, he be- 
 came the centre of the gathering ; all eyes were fixed upon 
 him, and he immediately felt that the position of general 
 favorite, which he had taken in the province, was exceedingly 
 appropriate to him, and pleasant, and, after such long depriva- 
 tion, really intoxicating in its agreeableness. Not only at the 
 post stations, the taverns, and the residence of the landed pro- 
 prietor, were the servant maids flattered by his attentions, but 
 here, at the governor's reception, it seemed to Nikolai that 
 there was an inexhaustible array of young married women and 
 pretty girls who were impatient to have him give them a share 
 of his attention. 
 
 The ladies and young girls coquetted with him, and the old 
 people, from the very first moment, took it upon themselves 
 to find a wife for this mad-cap young hussar, and bring him to 
 his senses. Among the latter was the governor's wife her- 
 self, who received Rostof like a near relative, and called him 
 " Nicolas " and addressed him with the familiar tui, " thou." 
 
 Katerina Petrovna, as was expected, began to play her valses 
 and ecossaises, and the dancing began, and, by his graces in this 
 accomplishment, Nikolai still more captivated all the govern- 
 mental society. He surprised every one by his peculiarly free 
 and easy manner of dancing. Even Nikolai was somewhat sur- 
 prised at himself by his manner of dancing that evening. He 
 had never danced so at Moscow, and he woi^d have been dis- 
 posed to call such extravagance of freedom unbecoming, and 
 mauvais genre, had he not felt the necessity upon him of sur- 
 prising them all by something extraordinary, something which
 
 16 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 they must be taught to regard as the proper thing in capitals, 
 but as yet unknown in the provinces. 
 
 All that evening, Nikolai devoted the most of his attentions 
 to a blue-eyed, plump and pretty little blonde, the wife of one 
 of the governmental chinovniks. With that naive persuasion 
 with which young men flatter themselves that other men's 
 wives were created especially for their diversion, Eostof 
 staid by this lady, and treated her husband in a friendly, 
 somewhat conspiratical way, as though it were to be quite 
 taken for granted, though as yet nothing had been said about 
 it, that they would get along splendidly, that is, Nikolai with 
 this man's wife ! 
 
 The husband, however, it seemed, did not share in this per- 
 suasion, and did his best to treat Kostof with marked coldness. 
 But Nikolai's unaffected frankness was so unbounded, that 
 more than once the husband was obliged, in spite of him, to 
 give way to Nikolai's geniality. 
 
 Toward the end of the evening, however, in proportion as 
 his wife's face grew more and more flushed and excited, her 
 husband's face grew ever more and more set and melancholy, 
 as though there were a common fund of vivacity shared by 
 the two so that in. proportion as it waxed in the wife, it waned 
 in the husband. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 NIKOLAI, with a beaming smile on his lips, sat in his easy- 
 chair, leaning over as near as possible to the pretty blondinka, 
 whispering mythological compliments into her ear. 
 
 Briskly shifting his legs in their tight riding-trousers, ex- 
 haling the odor of perfumes, and contemplating his lady and 
 himself, and the handsome shape of his calves under his top- 
 boots, Nikolai was telling the pretty blonde that, while he was 
 there at Voronezh, he intended to run away with a certain- 
 lady. 
 
 "Who is she?" 
 
 " Charming, divine ! Her eyes " (Nikolai looked closely at 
 his neighbor) " are blue ; her lips, coral ; her complexion " 
 he gave a significant look at her shoulders " her form, 
 Diana's ! " 
 
 The husband rejoined them, and asked gloomily what she 
 was talking about. 
 
 " Ah ! Nikita Ivanuitch," exclaimed Nikolai, politely ris-
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 17 
 
 ing. And, as though he were anxious for Nikita Ivanuitch to 
 share in his jokes, he confided to him his intention of eloping 
 with a certain pretty blonde. 
 
 The husband smiled chillingly, the wife rapturously. The 
 governor's worthy wife came up to them with a disapproving 
 look on her face. 
 
 " Anna Ignatyevna is desirous of seeing you, Nicolas" said 
 she, and by the tone in which she mentioned the name Anna 
 Ignatyevna, Rostof instantly realized that Anna Ignat- 
 yevna was a very important individual. " Come, let us go, 
 Nicolas. You permit me to call you so, don't you ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, ma tante. But who is she ? " 
 
 "Anna Ignatyevna Malvintseva. She had heard of you 
 through her niece ; how you rescued her ! Can you 
 guess ? " 
 
 " But I rescued so many there ! " said Nikolai. 
 
 " Her niece the Princess Bolkonskaya. She is here with 
 her aunt in Voronezh. Oho ! how he reddens ! What does 
 that mean, now ? " 
 
 " I could not imagine, there, there, ma tante ! " 
 
 " Pretty good, pretty good ! Oh, what a boy you are ! " 
 
 The governor's wife led him to a tall and very stately old 
 lady with a blue toque on her head, who had just finished a 
 hand at cards with the most consequential personages of the 
 city. This was Malvintseva, the Princess Mariya's aunt on 
 her mother's side, a rich, childless widow, who had always 
 lived in Voronezh. She stood settling her card account when 
 Rostof was brought to her. She was blinking her eyes with a 
 stern and important expression, gave him a glance, and went 
 on berating the general who had won her money. 
 
 " Very glad to see you, my dear," said she, extending her 
 hand. " Pray come and see me." 
 
 After speaking a few words about the Princess Mariya and 
 her late father, whom, evidently, Malvintseva had not loved, 
 and asking a few questions as to what news Nikolai had to 
 give about Prince Andrei, who also seemed not to enjoy her 
 good graces, she dismissed him, repeating her invitation to 
 visit her. 
 
 Nikolai promised, and again reddened as he took his leave 
 of the widow. 
 
 At the remembrance of the Princess Mariya, Rostof expe- 
 rienced a feeling of bashfuliiess, even of fear, which he could 
 not understand. 
 
 After leaving Malvintseva, Rostof intended to return, to 
 VOL.4. 2.
 
 18 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 the dancing again, but the little gubernatorsha laid her plump 
 little hand on his sleeve and said that she wanted to have a 
 talk with him, and led him into the divan-room, which was 
 instantly evacuated by those who were in it and who did not 
 want to be in her way. 
 
 " You must know, mon eher" said the governor's wife, with 
 a serious expression on her good little face, " I have found 
 exactly the right wife for you ; do you want me to arrange 
 the match?" 
 
 " Who is it, ma tante ? " asked Nikolai. 
 
 " I propose the princess. Katerina Petrovna advises Lili ; 
 but that's not my idea I say the princess. What do you 
 say ? I am sure your maman would be very thankful. Truly, 
 she is a charming girl, and, after all, she is not so very 
 plain ! " 
 
 " Indeed, she isn't ! " exclaimed Nikolai in an injured tone. 
 " As for myself, ma tante, I do as a soldier should : I never 
 intrude, and I never refuse anything," said Nikolai, without 
 stopping to consider what reply he ought to make. 
 
 " But remember ! This is no joke." 
 
 "What is no joke?" 
 
 " Yes, yes," said the governor's wife, as though speaking to 
 herself. " And see here, mon cher, you are quite too atten- 
 tive to that other lady, la blonde. E-eally, it's pitiful, her 
 husband " 
 
 " Oh, no ; he and I are very good friends," replied Nikolai, 
 who, in his simplicity of soul, never once dreamed that such a 
 jolly way of whiling away time could be aught else than jolly 
 to any one. 
 
 "What foolish nonsense did I speak to the governor's 
 wife ? " Nikolai suddenly asked himself while at supper. 
 " She is trying to make a match but Sonya ? " 
 
 And on bidding the governor's wife good-night, when she 
 with a smile said to him, " Now remember " he drew her to 
 one side. 
 
 " Ma tante, I have something which I really ought to tell 
 you." 
 
 " What can it be, my boy ? Come in and let us sit down 
 here." 
 
 Nikolai suddenly felt a desire and an irresistible impulse to 
 confide in this almost perfect stranger all his private thoughts 
 thoughts which he would never have told his mother, his 
 sister, his friend. Afterwards, when he remembered this out- 
 burst of needless, inexplicable frankness, which nevertheless
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 19 
 
 had very important consequences, it seemed to him as it 
 always seems to people that he had acted very foolishly ; 
 this outburst of frankness, together with other trivial circum- 
 stances, had for him and for his whole family portentous 
 results. 
 
 " This is what I mean, ma tante. Martian has for a long 
 time been anxious for me to marry a rich young lady. But 
 the idea of marrying for money has always been extremely 
 repugnant." 
 
 " Oh, yes, I understand,' 7 assented the governor's wife. 
 
 " But the Princess Bolkonskaya : that is another thing. In 
 the first place, I will tell you honestly, she pleases me very 
 much ; I like her extremely. And besides, after meeting her 
 in such a way, in such a terrible position, the thought has 
 often occurred to me that it was fate. You may remember, 
 | maman long, long ago thought about this, before I ever hap- 
 j pened to meet her, and somehow it happened so : we never 
 i met. And then when my sister Natasha was engaged to her 
 brother, why, of course, then it became out of the question to 
 think of marrying her.* And now, just as Natasha's engage- 
 ment is broken off, it must needs happen that I meet her ; 
 well, it's all this is the trouble I have never told any one 
 about this, and I don't intend to. Only to you." 
 
 The governor's wife gave his elbow an encouraging pressure. 
 
 " You know Sophie, my cousin. I love her, and I have prom- 
 ised to marry her and I shall marry her. And so you see 
 there is nothing to be said about this other matter," explained 
 Nikolai, incoherently and reddening. 
 
 " Mon cher ! mon cher ! how can you have such ideas ? 
 Why, you know Sophie has nothing, and you yourself have 
 told me that your papa's affairs were in a wretched state. 
 And your maman? This would kill her surely! Then, 
 Sophie, if she is a girl with any heart, what* a life it would 
 be for her! Your mother in despair, your property all dis- 
 sipated ! No, mon cher, you and Sophie must see things as 
 they are." 
 
 Nikolai made no reply. It was. pleasant for him to hear 
 this reasoning. 
 
 " Still, ma tante, this cannot be," said he with a sigh, after 
 some little silence. "Then, do you suppose the princess 
 would marry me ? and besides she is in mourning. How can 
 such a thing be thought of ? " 
 
 * The marriage sacrament according to the Greek Church makes mar- 
 riage relationship blood relationship.
 
 20 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 " What ? do you suppose I would have you marry her in- 
 stantly ? II y a maniere et maniere ! " said the governor's 
 wife. 
 
 "What a match-maker, ma tante!" said Nikelai, kissing 
 her plump hand. ' 
 
 CHAPTEE VI. 
 
 THE Princess Mariya, on arriving at Moscow after her 
 meeting with Eostof, found there her nephew and his tutor, 
 and a letter from Prince Andrei, who enjoined upon them to 
 go to Voronezh, to her aunt Malvintseva. 
 
 The labors consequent upon this move, her anxiety for her 
 brother, the regulation of her life in her new home, new ac- 
 quaintances, the education of her nephew, all this tended 
 to quench in the Princess Mariya's heart that seductive long- 
 ing which had tormented her during her father's illness, and 
 after his death, and especially after her meeting with Eostof. 
 
 She was unhappy. 
 
 The impression of her father's loss, associated in her mind 
 as it was with the ruin of Eussia, now, after a month spent 
 in the conditions of a calm, equable life, grew more and more 
 vivid to her. She was anxious ; the thought of the perils to 
 which her brother was exposed the only man who was 
 closely related to her constantly tormented her. 
 
 She was occupied with the instruction of her nephew, but 
 she felt all the time that she was peculiarly unfitted for it. 
 Nevertheless in the depths of her soul there was a certain 
 sense of quietude arising from the consciousness that she had 
 crushed out the personal hopes and dreams that had sprung 
 up in her heart, and were connected with the appearance of 
 Eostof. 
 
 When, on the day following her reception, the governor's 
 wife went to call upon Malvintseva, after a private conversa- 
 tion with her in regard to her scheme (making the reservation 
 that, though under present circumstances it was impossible to 
 think of a formal courtship, still the young people might be 
 brought together and made acquainted), and when, after re- 
 ceiving the aunt's approval, the gubernatorsha spoke in the 
 Princess Mariya's presence of Eostof, praised him, and told 
 how he had reddened at the mere mention of the princess's 
 name, the Princess Mariya experienced a feeling not of 
 pleasure but of pain j her inward calm had entirely vanished,
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 21 
 
 and again arose her desires, doubts, self-reproaches, and 
 hopes. 
 
 During the two days that intervened between hearing this 
 news and her interview with Restof, the Princess Mariya did 
 not cease to think how it behooved her to behave toward him. 
 At one moment she made up her mind that she would not go 
 into the drawing-room when he came to call upon her aunt, 
 that it was not becoming for her to receive callers when she 
 was in deep mourning ; then again she thought that it would 
 be rude after all that he had done for her ; then it occurred to 
 her that the governor's wife and her aunt must have some 
 designs on her and Rostof their glances, and certain words 
 that they had dropped, it seemed to her, confirmed this sup- 
 position then she said to herself that nothing but her inborn 
 depravity made her have such thoughts ; they could not help 
 remembering that, in her situation, she not having jet taken 
 off her " weepers," such a wooing would be an insult to her, 
 as well as to her father's memory. 
 
 Assuming that she should go down to meet him, the Prin- 
 cess Mariya tried to imagine the words which he would say 
 to her, and which she should say to him, and .at one moment 
 these words seemed undeservedly cold, at the next they 
 seemed to possess too great significance. 
 
 More than all else she was apprehensive that on meeting 
 him she should show that bashfulness which she was certain 
 would take possession of her, and betray her as soon as she 
 saw him. 
 
 But when on Sunday, after mass, the lackey announced at 
 the drawing-room door that Count Eostof had come, the 
 princess showed no symptoms of confusion; only a faint 
 tinge of color suffused her cheeks, and her eyes shone with a 
 new, luminous light. 
 
 " You have seen him, auntie ? " * asked the Princess Mariya 
 in a tranquil voice, surprised herself that she could be out- 
 wardly so calm and natural. 
 
 When Kostof entered the room, the princess for a moment 
 dropped her head, as though for the purpose of allowing the 
 guest time to exchange greetings with her aunt, and then at 
 the very moment that Nikolai came toward her, she raised 
 her head, and with radiant eyes met his glance. 
 
 With a movement full of grace and dignity, she arose with 
 a joyful smile, offered him her slender, delicate hand, and 
 spoke to him in a voice which for the first time vibrated 
 with new, womanly, hearty tones. 
 
 * Titftushka : diminutive of
 
 22 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 Mile. Bourienne, who happened to be in the drawing-room, 
 looked at the Princess Mariya in wonder and perplexity. She 
 herself, though a most accomplished coquette, could not have 
 manoeuvred better on meeting a man whom she wished to 
 fascinate. 
 
 " Either black is becoming to her, or really she has grown 
 pretty ; I certainly never remarked it so before/ 7 said Mile. 
 Bourienne to herself. 
 
 If the Princess Mariya had been in a position to think at 
 that moment, she would have been even more amazed than 
 was Mile. Bourienne at the change that had taken place in 
 her. From the instant that she saw that kind face so beloved, 
 a new power of life took possession of her, and compelled her, 
 irrespective of her own will, to speak and to act. Her face from 
 that moment that Eostof entered was suddenly transformed. 
 
 Just as the complicated artistic work on the sides of a 
 painted or carved lamp comes out with sudden and unex- 
 pected details of beauty when a light is kindled within, though 
 before it had seemed coarse, dark, and meaningless, so was the 
 Princess Mariya' s face unexpectedly transformed. For the first 
 time all that pure, spiritual, inward travail which she had gone 
 through for so many years was laid open to the light. All that 
 inward travail, which had left her so dissatisfied with her- 
 self, her suffering, her yearnings after the right, her sub- 
 mission, love, self-sacrifice, all this now shone forth in those 
 luminous eyes, in her gentle smile, in every feature of her 
 tender face. 
 
 Eostof saw all this so clearly that it seemed to him he had 
 known her all his life. He felt that the being before him 
 was different, was better than all that he had hitherto met, 
 and, what was more important, was better than himself. 
 
 Their conversation was extremely simple and insignificant. 
 They talked about the war, involuntarily, like every one else, 
 exaggerating their grief at the event ; they talked about their 
 last meeting, whereupon Nikolai tried to turn the conversa- 
 tion to something else ; they talked about the good guberna- 
 torsha, about their respective parents. 
 
 The Princess Mariya did not speak of her brother, deflect- 
 ing the subject to another topic as soon as her aunt spoke 
 about Andrei. It was evident that, while there might be some 
 pretence in her expressions of grief in the miseries of Russia, 
 her brother was an object too near to her heart, and she 
 would not and could not talk about him. Nikolai remarked 
 this, for, with a keenness of observation that was not at all
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 23 
 
 characteristic of him, he remarked all the little shades of the 
 princess's nature to the effect of greatly intensifying his con- 
 viction that she was a being entirely out of the common. 
 
 Nikolai, exactly the same as the princess, had changed color 
 when her name was mentioned in his presence, and even 
 when he thought about her ; but in her presence he felt per- 
 fectly unhampered, and by no means confined himself to the 
 set speeches which he had made ready in advance, but spoke 
 whatever came into his head. 
 
 During Nikolai's short call there were, as always happens 
 where a number of people are together, moments of silence, 
 and during one of these Nikolai made up to Prince Andrei's 
 little son, petted him, and asked him if he would like to be 
 a hussar. He took hold of the boy's hands, spun -him around 
 and glanced at the Princess Mariya. Her tender, happy, and 
 timid eyes followed the little lad whom she loved while he 
 was in the arms of the man whom she loved. Nikolai also 
 remarked this look, and, as though he understood its signifi- 
 cance, he flushed with gratification, and with good-natured 
 jollity began to kiss the little fellow. 
 
 The Princess Mariya, owing to her mourning, was not going 
 into society, and Nikolai felt that it was unbecoming for him 
 to repeat his call upon them ; but the governor's wife, never- 
 theless, continued her task of match-maker, and, while she 
 took occasion to repeat to Nikolai all the flattering things that 
 the Princess Mariya had said about him, and vice versa, she 
 insisted that he should declare himself to the princess. 
 
 In order to bring about this explanation, she arranged a meet- 
 ing between the young people at the archbishop's, before mass. 
 
 Although Rostof had told the governor's wife that he would 
 not come to any explanation with the princess, still he prom- 
 ised to. be present. 
 
 Just as at Tilsit he had not allowed himself to doubt 
 whether what had been enjoined upon all was good or not, 
 so now, after a short but genuine struggle between his wish 
 to arrange his life in his own way and a peaceful submission 
 to circumstances, he chose the latter alternative, and gave 
 himself up to that power which, as he could not help feeling, 
 was irresistibly drawing him away, he knew not whither. He 
 knew that, having plighted his troth to Sonya, if he confessed 
 his feelings for the Princess Mariya, it would be nothing else 
 than base. And he knew that he would never do anything 
 base. But he knew also (not so much knew it as felt it in
 
 24 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 the depths of his heart) that if he gave himself up into the 
 control of men and of circumstances and let them guide him, 
 he not only would do nothing wrong, but would rather do 
 something very, very important, so important that nothing like 
 it would ever again recur to him in his life. 
 
 After his meeting with the Princess Mariya, although his 
 manner of life continued to be the same outwardly, still all 
 his former pleasures lost for him their zest, and he frequently 
 found himself thinking of the Princess Mariya ; but he never 
 thought of her as he had always, without exception, thought 
 of the various young ladies whom he had met in society, nor 
 even as he had for long and sometimes even enthusiastically 
 thought of Sony a. ...-. 
 
 Like almost every pure young man, when he thought about 
 any baruishnya as his possible wife, he strove to make her fit the 
 condition of marital existence, as he imagined it the white 
 capote, the wife behind the samovar, his wife's carriage, wee 
 bits of children, maman and papa, their relations to her, and 
 so forth, and so forth ; and these representations of the future 
 gave him pleasure. 
 
 But when he thought about the Princess Mariya, whom 
 they were trying to make a wife for him, he could not make 
 the representations of his future married life in any way con- 
 crete. Even when he tried everything seemed incoherent and 
 false. All that remained in his mind was a kind of dread. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE terrible news of the battle of Borodino, of our losses 
 in dead and wounded, and the still more terrible tidings of the 
 loss of Moscow, were received in Voronezh toward the end of 
 September. 
 
 The Princess Mariya, learning only from the bulletin that 
 her brother was wounded, and having no definite information 
 about him, determined to go in search of him. This was what 
 Nikolai heard. He himself had not seen her again. 
 
 On learning of the battle of Borodino and the abandonment 
 of Moscow, Nikolai, while not giving himself up to feelings 
 of despair, anger, or desire for vengeance or the like, still sud- 
 denly began to feel bored and out of place at Voronezh ; hi? 
 conscience almost reproached him, and he felt awkward. All 
 the talk that he heard seemed to him hypocritical ; he knew 
 not what judgment to pass upon events, and he was conscious
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 25 
 
 that not until he returned to his regiment would things 
 become clear to him again. He made haste to accomplish 
 his purchase of horses, and oftentimes without any just cause 
 became impatient with his servant and the quartermaster. 
 
 Several days before Kostof s departure, a solemn service 
 was held in the cathedral, in honor of the victory that had 
 been won by the Russian troops, and Nikolai was present. He 
 was standing a little behind the governor, and, with a gravity 
 worthy of the occasion, was thinking of the most varied sub- 
 jects, even while he listened to the service. When the Te 
 Deum was ended, the governor's wife called him to her. 
 
 " Have you seen the princess ? " she asked, with her head 
 indicating a lady in black who stood behind the choir. 
 
 Nikolai instantly recognized the Princess Mariya, not so 
 much by her profile, a glimpse of which could be seen under 
 her hat, as by that feeling of shyness, fear, and pity which 
 instantly came over him. The Princess Mariya, evidently 
 absorbed in her thoughts, was crossing herself for the last 
 time before she should leave the church. 
 
 Nikolai looked into her face with amazement. It was the 
 same face which he had seen before, there was the same gen- 
 eral expression of gentle, inward, spiritual travail ; but now 
 it was lighted up by a very different sort of light. It had 
 a touching expression of sorrowfulness, entreaty, and hope. 
 
 As had been the case with Nikolai before when he was in 
 her presence, he, without waiting for the gubernatorsha's 
 advice to join her, without asking himself whether it were 
 right or proper for him to address her there in the church, 
 instantly went to her and said that he had heard of her sor- 
 row, and that he sympathized with her with all his heart. 
 She had hardly caught the first sound of his voice, when sud- 
 denly a bright light flashed into her face, giving witness at 
 one and the same time of her sorrow and her joy. 
 
 "I only wanted to tell you this, princess," said Eostof, 
 " that if Prince Andrei Nikolayevitch were not alive, it would 
 be instantly announced in the bulletins, since he is a regimen- 
 tal commander." 
 
 The princess looked at him, not comprehending his words, 
 but delighting in the expression of sympathy and sorrow in 
 his face. 
 
 "And I have known so many cases where a wound caused 
 by a splinter (and the bulletins would say a shell) was either 
 fatal immediately, or, if not, very trifling," said Nikolai 
 u You must hope for the best, and I am certain "
 
 26 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 The Princess Mariya interrupted him, 
 
 " Oh, this would be so hor " she began, but her emotion 
 overmastered her, and, without completing the word, she bent 
 her head with a graceful motion (like everything that she did 
 in his presence), and, giving him a grateful look, rejoined her 
 aunt. 
 
 The evening of that same day, Nikolai accepted no engage- 
 ments out, but remained at his lodgings in order to square up 
 certain accounts with the horse-dealers. 
 
 Having completed his business, it being too late to go any- 
 where, but too early to retire for the night, Nikolai long 
 walked up and down his solitary room, thinking over his life, 
 which was an unusual thing for him to do. 
 
 The Princess Mariya had produced upon him an agreeable 
 impression when he saw her near Smolensk. The fact that he 
 had met her then in such extraordinary circumstances, and 
 that she was the very one whom his mother had once recom- 
 mended to him as an eligible -heiress, caused him to regard 
 her with peculiar interest. 
 
 When he came to see her again at Voronezh, this impression 
 was not only agreeable but it was powerful. Nikolai was 
 struck by that peculiar moral beauty which he for the first 
 time observed in her. 
 
 He was ready to take his departure, however, and it had 
 not occurred to him to regret the fact that in leaving Voronezh 
 he was depriving himself of the chance of seeing the prin- 
 cess. But his meeting with her that morning at church 
 (Nikolai was conscious of it) had sunk deeper into his heart 
 than he could have foreseen, and deeper than he would have 
 wished for his peace of mind. 
 
 That pale, gentle, sorrowful face, those luminous eyes, those 
 quiet, graceful movements, and, above all, that profound and 
 sweet expression of sorrow pervading all her being, troubled 
 him and aroused his sympathy. 
 
 Rostof could not endure to see in men the expression of a 
 lofty spiritual life that was the reason he did not like 
 Prince Andrei he scornfully called it philosophy, day- 
 dreaming ; but in the Princess Mariya, especially in that sor- 
 row which brought forth all the depth of that spiritual world 
 so marvellous to Kostof, he felt an irresistible attraction. 
 
 " She must be a marvellous girl ! A real angel ! " said he 
 to himself. " Why am I not free ? Why was I in such haste 
 with regard to Sonya ? " 
 
 And involuntarily he began to institute a comparison
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 27 
 
 between the two : the poverty in one, the abundance in the 
 other of those spiritual gifts which Nikolai himself had not, 
 and which therefore he prized so highly. 
 
 He tried to imagine what would be if he had been free. 
 How would he have made his proposal to her, and if she had 
 become his wife ! But no, he could not imagine it. 
 
 A strange feeling of dread came over him, and nothing clear 
 presented itself to his imagination. Now he had long ago 
 formulated the picture of his future with Sonya, and it was 
 all clear and simple, for the reason that it had been thought 
 out, and he knew all that was in Sonya ; but it was impossible 
 to formulate any scheme of life with the Princess Mariya, 
 because he did not understand her, but only loved her. 
 
 His visions of Sonya had something about them that was 
 jolly and frivolous. But it was always hard and rather terrible 
 to think of Princess Mariya. 
 
 " How she was praying ! " he mused, following his recollec- 
 tions. "It was evident her whole soul was in her prayer. 
 Yes, that is the prayer that removes mountains, and I am sure 
 that her prayer will be fulfilled. Why cannot I pray for what 
 I need ? " he asked himself. " What do I need ? My free- 
 dom, to be released from Sonya. She said what was true," 
 he was recalling the gubernatorsha's words l<( Nothing but 
 misfortune would come of my marrying her.' Confusion, grief 
 to maman business confusion, terrible confusion! Yes, 
 and I don't love her. I don't love her as I ought. My God ! 
 save me from this terrible, inextricable muddle!" he began, 
 trying to offer a prayer. " Yes, prayer moves the mountain, 
 but faith is needful, and to pray as Natasha and I used to 
 pray when we were children, that the snow would change into 
 sugar, and then run out of doors to see whether our prayer was 
 answered. No, but I cannot pray about trifles now," said he, 
 as he laid his pipe down in the corner, and, folding his hands, 
 stood in front of the holy pictures. And, touched by his recol- 
 lection of the Princess Mariya, he began to pray as he had not 
 prayed for a long, long time. The tears were standing in his 
 eyes and swelling his throat when Lavrushka suddenly came 
 in with documents in his hand. "Idiot durak! what do 
 you come sneaking in for when you weren't called ? " exclaimed 
 Nikolai, abruptly changing his position. 
 
 " From the governor," said Lavrushka, in a sleepy voice 
 " a courier came ; letter for you." 
 
 " All right, thanks ! Begone ! " 
 
 Nikolai had two letters. One was from his mother, the
 
 28 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 other from Sonya. He recognized them by their handwriting, 
 and he opened Sonya's first. He had only read a few lines 
 when his face grew pale and his eyes opened wide in terror 
 and delight. 
 
 " No, it cannot be ! " he exclaimed aloud. He could not sit 
 still, but with the letter in his hand began to pace the room. 
 He glanced through the letter, then read it once and a second 
 time, and, shrugging his shoulders and opening out his hands, 
 he stood still in the middle of the room with open mouth and 
 set eyes. 
 
 The very thing which he had just been praying for with the 
 faith that God would fulfil his prayer was granted ; but 
 Nikolai was amazed by this, as though it had been something 
 extraordinary, and as though he had never expected it, and as 
 though the very oliing which had so quickly eventuated proved 
 that this had come, not by the will of God, to whom he had 
 offered his petition, but from ordinary chance. 
 
 This apparently unsolvable knot which fettered Rostof's 
 freedom was cut by this letter from Sonya so unexpected 
 (as it seemed to Nikolai) and unsolicited. She wrote that 
 the recent unfortunate events, the loss of almost all the Eos- 
 tofs' property in Moscow, and the more than once expressed 
 desire of the countess that Nikolai should marry Princess 
 Bolkonskaya, and his own silence and coldness of late, all 
 taken together had caused her to decide to release him from 
 his promise and give him perfect freedom. 
 
 " It was too trying for me to think that I might be a source 
 of sorrow or dissension in a family which has loaded me with 
 benefits," she wrote. "And my love has for its one single 
 aim the happiness of those whom I love. And therefore I 
 beseech you, Nicolas, to consider yourself perfectly free, and 
 to know that, in spite of all, no one could love you more truly 
 than your Sonya." 
 
 This letter was written from Troitsa. 
 
 The second letter was from the countess. In this there was 
 given a full description of the last days in Moscow, their 
 departure, the fire, and the loss of all their property. In this 
 letter also, among other things, the countess wrote that Prince 
 Andrei was among the wounded whom they had brought away 
 with them. His position was very critical, but now the doctor 
 declared that there was more hope. Sonya and Natasha were 
 Attending him as watchers. 
 
 On the following day, Nikolai took this letter, and went to 
 gee the Princess Mariya. Neither Nikolai nor the princess
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 29 
 
 said a word as to the significance of the fact that Natasha 
 was attending the sufferer ; but, thanks to this letter, Nikolai 
 suddenly felt drawn closer to the princess, almost as though 
 he were a relative. 
 
 On the next day, Rostof escorted the Princess Mariya to 
 Yaroslavl, and not long after rejoined his regiment. 
 
 CHAPTER VIH. 
 
 SONYA'S letter to Nikolai, coming so opportunely in answer 
 to his prayer, had been written from Troitsa (Trinity). 
 
 This was the way it happened. 
 
 The old countess had become more and more occupied by 
 the idea of Nikolai marrying a rich wife. She knew that 
 Sonya was the chief obstacle in the way of this. And Sonya's 
 life in the countess's home had been made more and more try- 
 ing of late, especially since Nikolai wrote of meeting the 
 Princess Mariya at Bogucharovo. 
 
 The countess lost no opportunity of addressing Sonya with 
 insulting or cruel insinuations. 
 
 A few days before their departure from Moscow, however, 
 the countess, exacerbated and excited by all that was happen- 
 ing, had called Sonya to her, and, instead of loading her with 
 reproaches and demands, had begged her with tears in her 
 eyes to have pity on her, and, as a return for all that had been 
 done for her, to release Nikolai from his engagement. 
 
 "I shall never be content until you have given me this 
 promise." 
 
 Sonya sobbed hysterically, promised through her sobs that 
 she would do anything, that she was ready for any sacrifice ; 
 but she did not give the promise in so many words, and in her 
 heart she found it impossible to consent to do what they 
 required. of her. It was necessary for her to sacrifice herself 
 for the happiness of the family which had fed and educated 
 her. 
 
 To sacrifice herself for the happiness of others was second 
 nature to Sonya. Her position in the household was such 
 that it was only on the road of sacrifice that she could show 
 her worth, and she was accustomed to sacrifice herself, and 
 loved to do so. 
 
 But hitherto, in all her acts of self-sacrifice, she had enjoyed 
 che pleasant consciousness that in thus sacrificing herself, she 
 was by this very act enhancing her value in her own eyes and
 
 30 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 the eyes of others, and was becoming more worthy of Nicolas, 
 whom she loved above all else in the world. 
 
 But now her sacrifice was to consist in renouncing all that 
 had promised to be the reward of her sacrifice, the whole 
 meaning of life. And for the first time in her life she had 
 bitter feelings against those very people who had loaded her 
 with benefits only to torment her the more. She began to hate 
 Natasha, who had never been called upon to experience any 
 such trial, who had never been required to sacrifice herself, 
 but who had obliged others to sacrifice themselves for her, 
 and yet was loved by all. 
 
 And for the first time Sonya felt that her gentle, pure love 
 for Nicolas was growing into a passion which was mightier 
 than law and virtue and religion, and it was under the influ- 
 ence of this feeling that Sonya, who had been involuntarily 
 taught by her life of dependence to be reserved, replied to the 
 countess in general, indefinite terms, avoided having anything 
 further to say to her, and made up her mind to wait until she 
 should see Nikolai again, with the idea, not of giving him his 
 freedom, but, on the contrar}^. of binding him to her forever. 
 
 The labors and terror incident to those last days that the 
 Rostof s spent in Moscow put out of mind the gloomy thoughts 
 that had been weighing her down. She was glad to find an 
 escape from them in practical activity. But when she learned 
 of Prince Andrei's presence in the house, notwithstanding 
 the genuine pity which she felt for him and for Natasha, she 
 was seized by a blithe and superstitious presentiment that God 
 did not wish her to be separated from Nicolas. 
 
 She knew that Natasha had never loved any one beside 
 Prince Andrei, and that she still loved him. She knew that, 
 now being brought together in such terrible circumstances, 
 their mutual affection would be renewed, and that then it 
 would be impossible for Nikolai to marry the Princess Mariya, 
 on account of the relationship which would be entailed upon 
 them. Notwithstanding the horror of all that had taken, 
 place during the last days and during the early part of their 
 journey, this feeling, this consciousness of the interference of 
 Providence in her personal affairs, had rejoiced Sonya's heart. 
 
 The Eostofs made their first halt at the Troitskaya Lavra 
 or Trinity Monastery. 
 
 At the hostelry of the Lavra, the Rostofs were assigned 
 three large rooms, one of which was taken by Prince Andrei. 
 The wounded man that day was much better. Natasha had 
 been sitting with him. In the adjoining room were the count
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 31 
 
 and countess engaged in a polite conversation with, the father 
 superior, who had come to pay his respects to his old acquaint- 
 ances and benefactors. Sonya was also sitting with them and 
 was tormented by curiosity as to what Prince Andrei and 
 Natasha were talking about ; for she could hear the sounds of 
 their voices, the door of Prince Andrei's room having been left 
 open. Natasha with agitated face came running out, and not 
 heeding the monk, who arose to meet her and offered her his 
 right hand under his flowing sleeve, went straight to Sonya, 
 and took her by the arm. 
 
 " Natasha ! what is the matter ? Come here ! " said the 
 countess. 
 
 Natasha submitted to the priest's blessing, and the father 
 superior advised her to go for help to God and his saint. 
 
 As soon as the father superior was gone, Natasha took her 
 cousin's hand, and drew her into the empty room. 
 
 " Sonya ! Do you think he is going to live ? Say yes ! " 
 said she. " Sonya ! How happy I am, and how unhappy ! 
 Sonya darling,* but it is all just as it used to be. If only he 
 would live ! he can't get well, because be cause " 
 And Natasha burst into tears. 
 
 " Yes ! he will. I have been sure of it ! Glory to God ! 
 He will get well ! " 
 
 Sonya was no less agitated than Natasha, not alone because 
 of her friend's suffering and sorrow, but also because of her 
 own private thoughts, which she shared with no one. Sob- 
 bing, she kissed Natasha, and tried to soothe her. 
 
 " If only he would get well ! " she said to herself. Having 
 had a good cry and a talk together, and wiping away their 
 tears, the two friends went to Prince Andrei's door. Natasha, 
 carefully opening it, glanced into the room. Sonya stood next 
 aer at the half-opened door. 
 
 Prince Andrei lay bolstered up high on three pillows. His 
 white face was calm, his eyes closed, and apparently he was 
 breathing regularly. 
 
 " '* Akh ! Natasha ! " Sonya almost screamed, suddenly seiz- 
 ing her cousin's hand, and starting away from the door. 
 
 " What what is it ? " asked Natasha. 
 
 "Let me tell you! this this!" said Sonya, with pallid 
 face and trembling lips. 
 
 Natasha gently closed the door, and went with Sonya to the 
 window, no longer remembering what had been said to her. 
 
 "Do you remember," began Sonya, in a frightened and 
 * Golubchik.
 
 32 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 solemn voice, " do you remember when I looted for yon 
 at the mirror at Otradnoye, on Twelfth Night? Do you 
 remember what I saw ? " 
 
 " Yes, yes/'' replied Natasha, opening her eyes wide, and 
 having a dim remembrance that at that time Sonya had said 
 something about Prince Andrei, whom she claimed to have 
 seen lying down. 
 
 " Do you remember ? " continued Sonya : " I saw then and 
 told you all you and Dunyasha. I saw him lying on a 
 bed," said she, at every detail waving her hand with out- 
 stretched finger, "and his eyes were closed, and he was cov- 
 ered with a pink spread, and his arms were folded," pursued 
 Sonya, convinced that all these details, which she had just 
 before seen, were the very same that she had seen at that 
 time. 
 
 Keally, at that time she had seen nothing, but she had 
 related as having seen what first entered her mind ; but what 
 she had imagined then seemed to her the reality, like any 
 other remembrance. What she had said then about his look- 
 ing at her and smiling, and being covered with something blue 
 and red, she did not remember, but was firmly persuaded that 
 she had then said and seen how he was covered with some- 
 thing pink, indeed a pink coverlet, and that his eyes were 
 closed ! 
 
 " Yes, yes, certainly it was pink," said Natasha, who also at 
 the present time remembered that the color mentioned had 
 been pink, and in this fact she found the chief wonder and 
 mystery of the prediction. 
 
 "But what does this mean?" queried Natasha, thought- 
 fully. 
 
 " Oh, I'm sure I don't know ! How extraordinary it all is ! " 
 exclaimed Sonya, clasping her head with her hands. 
 
 In a few minutes, Prince Andrei rang, and Natasha went to 
 him ; but Sonya, experiencing an emotion and excitement such 
 as she had rarely experienced, still stood by the window, think- 
 ing over all the strangeness of what had happened. 
 
 There. happened to be on that day an opportunity to send 
 letters to the army, and the countess was writing to her son. 
 
 " Sonya," said the countess, lifting her head from her letter 
 as her niece passed her, "Sonya, won't you write Nikd- 
 lenka ? " asked the countess, in a gentle, trembling voice ; and 
 by the look in her weary eyes, which the countess gave her 
 over her spectacles, Sonya read what she meant by those
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 33 
 
 words. In that look was expressed a prayer, and fear of a 
 refusal, and shame that she was obliged to ask such a thing, 
 and readiness for implacable hatred in case of refusal. 
 
 Sonya went to the countess, and, kneeling down beside her, 
 kissed her hand. 
 
 " I will write," said she. 
 
 Sonya was softened, excited, and touched by all that had 
 happened on that day, especially by the mysterious coinci- 
 dence of the divination which she had just seen. Now, when 
 she knew that, in case of Natasha's engagement to Prince 
 Andrei being renewed, Nikolai could not marry Princess 
 Mariya, she had a sense of joy in the return of this condition 
 of self-sacrifice in which she was in the habit of living. And 
 with tears in her eyes and with a blissful consciousness of hav- 
 ing accomplished a magnanimous action, she, though several 
 times interrupted by the tears which clouded her velvety dark 
 eyes, wrote the touching letter, the receipt of which had so 
 amazed Nikolai. 
 
 CHAPTEE IX. 
 
 AT the guard-house where Pierre was conducted, the officer 
 and soldiers who had him in charge treated him like an 
 enemy, but at the same time with consideration. In their 
 treatment of him there seemed to be some suspicion that he 
 might prove to be a man of very great importance, and the 
 unfriendliness was due only to the remembrance of the 
 struggle which they had just had with him. 
 
 But on the following morning, when the guard was relieved, 
 Pierre was made aware that for the new guard officers and 
 men alike he had not that importance which he had enjoyed 
 with those who captured him. And indeed this great, portly 
 man, in peasant's kaftan, the new guards did not know as that 
 lively man who had fought so desperately with the marauder 
 and with the horse patrol, and had spoken that soltemn phrase 
 about the saving of the child, but they saw in him merely No. 
 17 of the Russian prisoners who had been taken and held by 
 order of men high in command. 
 
 If there had been anything special about Pierre, his appear- 
 ance, devoid of timidity, and full of intense, concentrated 
 thought, the perfection with which he expressed himself in 
 elegant French, to the amazement of the men, would have 
 been sufficient. Nevertheless, on this day Pierre was put in 
 VOL. 4. 3.
 
 34 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 with the other suspects that had been captured, for the reason 
 that the special room which had been given him first was 
 required by the officer. 
 
 All the Eussians locked in with Pierre were men of the 
 very lowest station. And all of them, recognizing that Pierre 
 was a barin, shunned him, and all the more from the fact that 
 he spoke French. Pierre felt a sense of melancholy as he 
 listened to their sarcasms at his expense. 
 
 On the evening of that day Pierre learned that all these 
 prisoners (and apparently he himself in the number) were to 
 be tried for incendiarism. On the third day Pierre and the 
 rest were conducted to a house where were a French general 
 with a white mustache, two colonels, and several other French- 
 men with chevrons on their arms. 
 
 Pierre, the same as the rest, was subjected to a series of 
 questions, Who was he? Where had he been? What 
 purpose ? and so forth put with that shrewdness and pre- 
 cision that affect to be superior to all human weaknesses and 
 are characteristic of all ordinary dealings with prisoners at the 
 bar. 
 
 These questions, making no account of the essence of the 
 fact at issue, and presupposing the impossibility of getting at 
 the truth, were like all questions put at legal examinations, 
 having for their object the laying-down of a sort of gutter in 
 which examiners wish the answers of the victim to trickle so 
 that he may be brought to the requisite point; namely, in- 
 crimination ! 
 
 The moment he began to make any remark that did not 
 satisfy this end, the " gutter " was applied, and the water made 
 to flow in' the desired direction. 
 
 Moreover, Pierre experienced what is always experienced 
 by men on trial : a sense of perplexity, of wonder why such 
 and such questions are asked. He had a feeling that it was 
 only out of condescension, or, possibly, courtesy, that the ex- 
 pedient of the question-gutter was made use of. He knew 
 that he was in the power of these men, that it was merely 
 brute force that had brought him where he was, that only 
 might * gave them the right to demand of him answers to 
 their questions, that the sole aim of this court was to prove 
 him guilty. 
 
 And therefore, as they had the power and the desire to con- 
 vict him, there was no need of the expedient of the interroga- 
 
 * The simple style of the original is shown by the fact that one word 
 vlasf stands for power, brute force and might. 

 
 WAR AND PEACE. 25 
 
 |tory and the court. It was evident that all his answers were 
 taken as proof of his guilt. 
 
 To the question what he was doing when he was arrested, 
 Pierre replied with a certain tragic force that he was re- 
 storing to its parents a child that he had rescued from the 
 lames qu'il avait sauve des flanimes. 
 
 Why had he fought with the marauder ? Pierre replied 
 that he was protecting a woman, that the defence of an in- 
 sulted woman was the duty of every man, that 
 
 He was interrupted : this was irrelevant. 
 
 Why had he been in the yard of the burning building, 
 where the witnesses had seen him ? 
 
 He replied that he had gone out to see what was happening 
 in Moscow. 
 
 He was again interrupted : he had not been asked where 
 
 was going, but why he was in the vicinity of the fire. 
 
 Who was he ? they asked, reiterating their first question, 
 and he replied that he would not divulge his name. 
 
 "Write that down; it looks bad. Very bad," sternly said 
 ;he white-mustachioed general with a florid complexion. 
 
 On the fourth day fires broke out on the Zubovsky Val. 
 
 Pierre and thirteen others were removed to the Kruimsky 
 Brod or Crimean Ford and placed in the coach-house of a mer- 
 chant's mansion. As they were marched along the streets, 
 Pierre was suffocated by the smoke, which seemed to him to 
 3e settled down over the whole city. In various directions 
 fires could be seen. Not even then did Pierre understand the 
 significance of the burning of Moscow, and he looked upon 
 these fires with horror. 
 
 In the coach-house of this solitary mansion by the Kruimsky 
 Brod, Pierre spent four days more, and during this time he 
 earned, from the talk of the French soldiers, that the decision 
 of the marshal regarding the prisoners confined there was ex- 
 jected each day. 
 
 Pierre could not learn from the soldier what marshal it 
 was. Evidently, for the soldier the term marshal connoted 
 some elevated and mysterious link in the chain of power. 
 
 These days up till the twentieth of September, on which 
 the prisoners were put through a second examination, were 
 very trying for Pierre.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 ON the twentieth of September, an officer of very great 
 importance, to judge by the respect shown him by the guards, 
 came into the coach-house to see the prisoners. This officer, 
 who apparently belonged to Napoleon's staff, had a list in his 
 hand, and called a roll of all the Russians, designating Pierre 
 as celui qui n'avoue pas son nom the man who refuses to 
 give his name. 
 
 Surveying the prisoners with a look of lazy indifference, he 
 ordered the officer of the guard to see that they were decently 
 clad and ordered before they were brought into the marshal's 
 presence. 
 
 Within an hour, a file of soldiers appeared, and Pierre and 
 thirteen others were taken out to the Dievitchye Pole.* 
 
 It was a bright, sunny day after rain, and the air was 
 extraordinarily clear. The smokt; did not hang \ow, as it had 
 on that day when Pierre was removed from the watch-hoUse of 
 the Zabovsky Val. It rose in columns in the clear atmos- 
 phere. No flames were visible, but on all sides arose these 
 columns of smoke, and all Moscow, so far as Pierre could see, 
 was one vast conflagration. On all sides were ruins, with 
 stoves and chimneys, and here and there the devastated walls 
 of stone houses. 
 
 Pierre gazed at the fires, but could not recognize any part of 
 the city. Here and there could be seen churches still stand- 
 ing. The Kreml, undevastated, gleamed white in the dis- 
 tance, with its cupolas and Ivan Veliki. f 
 
 Near by gleamed jocund the cupola of the Novo-dievitchy 
 monastery, and with unusual clearness could be heard the 
 sound of the chimes. This sound of the chimes reminded 
 Pierre that it was Sunday, and the Festival of the Nativity of 
 the Virgin. But it would seem as if there was no one to cele- 
 brate this festival. Everywhere was the ravage of the flames, 
 and only rarely were any of the Russian populace to be seen, 
 and these were ragged, panic-stricken folk, who concealed them- 
 selves at sight of the French. 
 
 Evidently, the Russian nest was wrecked and ruined ; but 
 
 * Maiden's Field. 
 
 t The Tower of Ivan Veliki, or John the Great, " a goodly steepill of hewen 
 stoen in the inner Castell of Musco," buijt by Boris Godunof, 1600. It is 320 
 feet high, and provided with a chime of 34 bells, the largest of which weighs 
 64 tons.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 37 
 
 Pierre had a dim consciousness that behind the overthrow of 
 this old order of life, in place of this ruined nest, there would 
 be established the new and entirely different but stable 
 French order. He felt it at the sight of these soldiers who 
 marched gallantly and blithely in perfectly unbroken ranks 
 as they escorted him and the other offenders along; he felt it 
 at the sight of an important French official in a two-horse 
 calash, driven by a soldier, coming to meet him ; he felt it 
 by the inspiriting sounds of the martial music which came 
 across from the left of t^e field ; and especially he felt it and 
 realized it by the way in which the French officer had that 
 morning read off the list containing the names of the 
 prisoners. 
 
 Pierre had been taken by certain soldiers, carried to one 
 place, then transferred to another with a dozen other men ; it 
 would seem as though they might have forgotten about him, 
 have confused him with others. But no ! the answer that 
 he had given during the investigation returned to him in the 
 form of an appellation : celui qui n'avoue pas son nom the 
 man who refuses to give his name. 
 
 And under this appellation, terrible to Pierre, ho was now 
 conducted somewhere, with the undoubted conviction written 
 on all faces that he and the rest of the prisoners were the very 
 ones required, and that they were being taken to the proper 
 place. Pierre felt himself an insignificant chip falling into 
 the wheels of a machine which he knew nothing about, but 
 which acted with absolute regularity. 
 
 Pierre and the other prisoners were conducted to the right- 
 hand side of the Dievitchye Pole, to a large white house with 
 an immense park not far from the monastery. This was 
 Prince Shcherbatof's house, where Pierre had often visited, 
 and which now, as he ascertained from the talk of the sol- 
 diers, was occupied by the marshal, the Prince d'Eckmiihl. 
 
 They were taken to the porch, and led into the house one 
 at a time. Pierre was number six. Through the glass gal- 
 lery, the entry, the anteroom, rooms all well known to Pierre, 
 he was led into a long, low cabinet, at the door of which stood 
 an aide-de-camp. 
 
 Davoust, with his spectacles on his nose, sat by a table at 
 one end of the room. Pierre came close to him. Davoust, 
 without raising his eyes, evidently consulted a document 
 placed in front of him. Without even raising his eyes, he 
 asked in a low voice : ' " Qui etes vous ? Who are you ? " 
 
 Pierre said nothing, from the reason that he bad not the
 
 38 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 power to utter a word. Davoust, in Pierre's eyes, was not 
 simply a French general ; for Pierre, Davoust was a man 
 notorious for his cruelty. As he looked into Davoust's icy 
 face, like that of a stern teacher who is willing to be patient 
 for a time and wait for a reply, Pierre felt that every second 
 of delay might cost him his life, but he knew not what to say. 
 He could not make up his mind to repeat what he had said at 
 the first examination ; to conceal his name and station was at 
 once dangerous and shameful. 
 
 Pierre said nothing. 
 
 But before he had time to come to any decision Davoust 
 raised his head, pushed his -spectacles up on his forehead, 
 squinted his eyes, and gave Pierre a fixed stare. 
 
 " I know this man," said he in an icy tone, evidently meant 
 to alarm Pierre. The chill which before had been running up 
 and down Pierre's back clutched his head as in a vice. 
 
 " General, you cannot possibly know me : I have never! seen 
 you" 
 
 " He is a Russian spy," * interrupted Davoust, turning to 
 another general who happened to be in the room and had 
 not before been observed by Pierre. And Davoust looked 
 away. 
 
 With an unexpected rumbling in his voice, Pierre suddenly 
 began to speak rapidly. 
 
 "No, your highness," said he, unexpectedly remembering 
 that Davoust was duke (herzog). " No, your highness, you 
 cannot know me. I am an officer of militia, and I have not 
 been out of Moscow." 
 
 " Your name ? " demanded Davoust. 
 
 "Bezukhoi." 
 
 " Who will prove that you are not imposing on me ? " 
 
 " Your highness ! " expostulated Pierre, in a tone that be- 
 trayed not offence but entreaty. t 
 
 Davoust raised his eyes and stared at Pierre. For several 
 seconds they looked into each other's eyes, and this look was 
 what saved Pierre. In this look there was established between 
 these two men, above and beyond all the conditions of war 
 and the court-room, the relations of a common humanity. 
 Both of them at that one moment became confusedly con- 
 
 * "3fon general, vous ne pouvez pas me connaitre,je ne vous aijamaisvu." 
 " C'est un espion russe." 
 
 t " Non, monseigneur, vous n'avez pas pu me connaitre. Je suis un offi- 
 cier militionnaire etje n'ai pas quitte Moscou." " Votre nom ? " ' ' Besou- 
 feo/." " Qu'est ce qui me prouvera que vous ne mentezpas? " < " 
 "
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 39 
 
 scions of an infinite number of things, and realized that they 
 both were children of humanity, that they were brothers. 
 
 For Davoust, who had only just raised his head from the 
 list where the acts and -lives of men were represented by 
 numbers, Pierre at first glance was only an incident, and 
 Davoust would have had him shot without his conscience 
 regarding it as a wicked deed ; but now he already began to 
 see that he was a man. He deliberated for an instant. 
 
 " How will you prove the truth of what you tell me ? " 
 asked Davoust coldly. 
 
 Pierre remembered Ramball, and mentioned his regiment 
 and name and the street where his lodgings would be found. 
 
 " You are not what you say you are," reiterated Davoust. 
 
 Pierre, in a trembling, broken voice, began to adduce proofs 
 of the correctness of his representation. 
 
 But at this instant an aide entered and made some report to 
 Davoust. Davoust suddenly grew radiant at the news com- 
 municated by the aide-de-camp, and began to button up his 
 coat. He had evidently forgotten Pierre's existence. 
 
 When the aide reminded him of the prisoner, he frowned, 
 and nodded in Pierre's direction, and ordered him to be led 
 away. But where was he to be led? Pierre had no idea, 
 whether back to the coach-house or to the place prepared for 
 the execution, which, as he had crossed the Dievitchye Pole, 
 his comrades had pointed out to him. 
 
 He turned his head and looked back, and saw that the aide 
 was making some inquiry. 
 
 ".Oui, sans doute;" but what this "Yes, of course," meant, 
 Pierre had no idea. 
 
 Pierre had no idea how long he was kept walking or whither 
 he was taken. In a condition of absolute stupor and abstrac- 
 tion, conscious of nothing around him, he mechanically moved 
 his legs together with the others until they were all halted, 
 and then he also halted. 
 
 During all this time one thought filled his mind. This 
 thought was : Who had in last analysis condemned him to be 
 executed ? It was not the same men who had examined him 
 at the court-martial ; there was not one man among them who 
 would have been willing, or, in all probability, could have done 
 so. It was not Davoust, who had looked at him with such a 
 human look. One instant more and Davoust would have under- 
 stood that they were making a mistake, but that moment was 
 disturbed by the aide who had come in. And this aide evi- 
 dently would not have willingly done anything wrong, but he
 
 40 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 could not help it. Who, then, was it that was the final cause 
 of his being punished, killed, deprived of life he, Pierre, 
 with all his recollections, yearnings, hopes, ideas ? Who was 
 doing this ? 
 
 And Pierre felt that it was no one. 
 
 It was the order of things, the chain of circumstances. 
 
 This order of things had somehow killed him Pierre 
 deprived him of life, destroyed him. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 FROM Prince Shcherbatof s house, the prisoners were con- 
 ducted directly down along the Dievitchye Pole, to the left of 
 the Dievitchy monastery, and were brought into a kitchen- 
 garden where stood an upright post. Back of the post a great 
 pit had been dug, the fresh earth was piled up at one side, 
 and around the pit and the pillar stood a great throng of 
 people. The throng consisted of a few Russians and a great 
 number of Napoleonic troops out of military rank ; Prussians, 
 Italians, and French, in various uniforms. At the right and 
 left of the post stood files of French troops in blue uniforms 
 with red epaulets, in gaiters and shakos. 
 
 The condemned were stationed in the same order as that 
 which they had occupied on the list Pierre was number six 
 and they were brought up to the post. A number of drums 
 were beaten suddenly on two sides, and Pierre felt that at 
 these sounds a part of his very soul was torn from him. He 
 lost the faculty of thinking and considering. He could only 
 see and hear. And he had only one desire left, and that was 
 that the terrible thing that had to be done should be done as 
 speedily as possible. Pierre glanced at his comrades and 
 observed them. 
 
 Two men at the end were shaven-headed convicts. One was 
 tall, thin ; the other, dark, hirsute, muscular, with a flattened 
 nose. Number three was a domestic serf,* forty-five years old, 
 with grayish hair and a plump, well-fed body. The fourth 
 was a very handsome muzhik, with a bushy, reddish beard, 
 and dark eyes. Number five was a factory hand, a sallow, 
 lean fellow of eighteen, who wore a khalat. 
 
 Pierre listened to the French soldiers asking how the men 
 should be shot : one at a time, or two at a time. 
 
 * Dvorovui.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 41 
 
 " Two at a time," replied the senior officer in a tone of cool 
 composure. 
 
 A stir ran through the rank and file of the soldiery, and it 
 was plain to see that all were making ready, and making ready 
 not as men do who make haste to do something that all com- 
 prehend, but rather as men make haste to finish some unusual 
 task, that must be done, yet is unpleasant and incomprehensible. 
 
 A French official in a scarf directed his steps to the right- 
 hand side of the file of the condemned, and read the sentence 
 in Russian and in French. 
 
 Then two couples of the French soldiers advanced to the 
 prisoners, and, by direction of the officer, pinioned the two 
 convicts who stood at the end. The convicts were halted at 
 the post, and while they were bringing the death-caps looked 
 silently around them, as a disabled wild beast at bay glares on 
 the hunter approaching. 
 
 One kept crossing himself, the other scratched his back and 
 tried to force his lips to smile. The soldiers, with hasty hands, 
 began to bind their eyes, to put on the death-caps, and fasten 
 the men to the post. 
 
 A dozen musketeers, with their arms in their hands, stepped 
 forth with firm, measured steps, and came to a halt eight paces 
 from the post. 
 
 Pierre looked away so as not to see what was going to take 
 place. Suddenly was heard a crash and a rattle, which seemed 
 to Pierre louder than the most terrific thunder-clap, and he 
 looked round. There was a smoke, and some Frenchmen with 
 pale faces and trembling hands were doing something around 
 the pit. 
 
 Two others were led out. In the same way, with the same 
 eyes, these two also gazed at them all, vainly with their eyes 
 alone for their lips were silent begging for help, and evi- 
 dently not comprehending and not realizing what was going 
 to be. They could not believe, because they alone knew what 
 their life was for them, and therefore they understood not and 
 believed not that it could be taken from them, 
 
 Pierre wished not to look, and again turned his head away ; 
 but again his ears were assailed as by a terrible explosion, arid, 
 at the same time, he saw the smoke, the blood of some one, and 
 the pale, frightened faces of the Frenchmen again occupied 
 with something near the post, with trembling hands push- 
 ing one another. 
 
 Pierre, breathing heavily, glanced around him, as though to 
 ask, a What is the meaning of this ? "
 
 42 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 The same question was expressed in all the eyes which met 
 Pierre's. 
 
 On all the faces of the Russians, on the faces of the French 
 soldiers and officers, all without exception, he read the same 
 fear, horror, and battle which were in his heart. 
 
 " Yes, who is it that is really responsible for this ? They 
 all suffer just exactly as I do. Whose doings is it ? whose ?" 
 Such was the question that flashed through Pierre's mind. 
 
 " Tirailleurs du 86 me , en avant Squad, of the 86th, forward," 
 some one commanded. 
 
 The man who was fifth on the list, and stood next to Pierre, 
 was led out alone ! 
 
 Pierre did not comprehend that he was saved ; that he and 
 all the others had been brought out simply to be witnesses of 
 the execution. With ever increasing horror, but with no real- 
 izing sense either of joy or relief, he watched proceedings. 
 
 The fifth man was the factory workman in the khalat. The 
 moment "they laid their hands on him he seemed overwhelmed 
 with terror, and clung to Pierre. Pierre shuddered, and shook 
 him off. 
 
 The factory hand could not walk. He was seized under 
 the arms and dragged away, yelling something. When they 
 brought him to the post, he suddenly became quiet. An idea 
 suddenly seemed to occur to him. Whether he realized that 
 it was idle to scream, or felt that it was impossible that these 
 men should really mean to kill him, at all events, he stood by 
 the post waiting for his eyes to be bandaged, just as the others 
 had done, and like the wild beast at bay glared around him 
 with flashing eyes. 
 
 Pierre could not bring himself to turn away or close his 
 eyes. His curiosity and emotion, shared with the whole 
 throng at the spectacle of this fifth execution, had arisen to 
 the highest pitch. Like the other four, this new victim was 
 composed. He wrapped his khalat around him, and rubbed 
 one bare foot against the other. 
 
 When they proceeded to bind his eyes, he himself arranged 
 the knot on the back of his head, as it was too tight for him. 
 Then, when they placed him with his back to the blood- 
 sprinkled post, he leaned back against it, but then, as though 
 finding it uncomfortable in that position, he straightened him- 
 self up, and, standing on even feet, he coolly stood with his 
 back to it. 
 
 Pierre did not take his eyes from him, or lose his slightest 
 motion.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 43 
 
 Some command must have been given ; the command must 
 have been followed by the reports of eight muskets. But 
 Pierre, in spite of all his subsequent efforts to remember, heard 
 not the slightest report from the fire-arms. He only saw how 
 the factory hand, for some reason, suddenly leaned with all 
 his weight on the ropes, how blood showed in two spots, and 
 how the ropes themselves from the weight of the suspended 
 body gave way, and the factory hand, unnaturally lolling his 
 head, and his legs doubling under him, sat down. 
 
 Pierre r^n up to the post. No one detained him. The 
 pale, terror-stricken men were doing something or other about 
 the workman. One old, mustachioed French soldier, as he 
 untied the ropes, could not prevent his lower jaw from trem- 
 bling. The body was laid on the ground. The soldiers 
 clumsily and in all haste dragged it behind the post, and pro- 
 ceeded to push it into the pit. 
 
 They all, evidently, were well assured that these men were 
 criminals, and that it was necessary as quickly as possible to 
 put out of sight all traces of their crime. 
 
 Pierre glanced into the pit, and saw that the factory hand 
 lay there with his knees drawn up near to his head, and one 
 shoulder higher than the other. And this shoulder was con- 
 vulsively but regularly falling and rising. But already shovel- 
 fuls of earth were falling on his whole body. 
 
 One of the soldiers sternly, impatiently, wrathfully called 
 to Pierre to come back. But Pierre heard him not, and stood 
 by the post, and no one drove him away. 
 
 When now the pit was all filled up, a word of command 
 was heard. Pierre was brought back to his place, and the 
 French troops, standing in files on both sides of the post, 
 faced about, and marched by the post in measured step. 
 
 The twenty-four men whose muskets had been emptied, 
 standing in the midst of the square, ran to their places, as 
 their companies marched by them. 
 
 Pierre gazed with lack-lustre eyes at these men, who two 
 by two left the circle. All but one had rejoined their com- 
 panies. A young soldier with a deathly pale face, and wearing 
 a shako on the back of his head, had grounded his musket, 
 and still stood in front of the pit, in the spot where he had 
 fired; He staggered like a drunken man a few steps forward, 
 then back, and could scarcely keep from falling. An old 
 soldier, a non-commissioned officer, ran from the ranks, and, 
 seizing the young soldier, drew him back to his company. 
 The throng of Russians and French began to disperse. All 
 went off in silence, with dejected heads.
 
 44 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 " Ca leur apprendra a encendier. This '11 teach 'em to set 
 fires,' 7 ' said one of the Frenchmen. Pierre glanced at the 
 speaker, and saw that he was a soldier who wanted to get 
 some consolation from what had been done, but could not. 
 Without finishing what he had begun to say, he waved his 
 hand, and went on his way. 
 
 CHAPTEE XII. JJM 
 
 AFTER the execution, Pierre was parted from* the others, 
 and placed by himself in a small, dilapidated church that had 
 been burned. 
 
 Just before evening a non-commissioned officer of the 
 guard, accompanied by two soldiers, came into the church,, and* 
 explained to Pierre that he was reprieved, and was to be! put 
 into the barracks of the prisoners of war. 
 
 Without comprehending what was said to him, Pierre got 
 up and went with the soldiers. 
 
 He was conducted to some huts at the upper part of the 
 field, constructed of burned planks, beams, and scantling, and 
 introduced into one of them. It was dark, and Pierre found 
 himself surrounded by a score of various characters. Pierre 
 looked at these men, without comprehending who they were, 
 why they were there, or what they wanted of him. He heard 
 the words that they spoke, but he saw no connection or 
 coherence in them : he did not comprehend their meaning. 
 He answered their questions, but he had no idea who listened 
 to him or how his answers were received. He looked at the 
 faces and forms, and they all alike seemed to him meaningless. 
 
 From the moment that Pierro had looked upon that horrid 
 massacre perpetrated by men who did riot wish to do it, it 
 might have been thought that the mainspring by which 
 everything had been co-ordinated and kept alive in his mind 
 had been torn away, and everything had crumbled into a heap 
 of incoherent dust. Although he made no attempt to explain 
 how it happened, his faith in the beneficent ordering of the 
 universe, in the human soul, and in his own and in God, 
 was destroyed. 
 
 Pierre had passed through such a mental crisis before, but 
 never one of such violence as this. Before, Avheii this kind of 
 doubts had come upon Pierre, they had had their origin in 
 his own wrong-doing. And Pierre had felt in the depths 
 of his heart that his salvation from such despair and doubt
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 45 
 
 was in himself. But now he was conscious that it was not 
 his own fault that the universe had collapsed before his eyes, 
 leaving only incoherent ruins. He felt that it was not in his 
 power to return to faith in life. 
 
 Around him in the darkness stood a number of men : appar- 
 ently, they found something in him to interest them. They 
 told him things, they asked questions of him ; then they led 
 him somewhere, and at last he found himself in a corner of 
 the balagan, together with certain men who were talking and 
 laughing together. " Here, now, my brothers, is the prince 
 himself ivho " (special stress was laid on the word " who ") 
 said some one's voice in the opposite corner of the balagan. 
 
 Pierre sat motionless and silent on the straw next the wall, 
 now opening and now closing his eyes. But as soon as he 
 'closed his eyes he saw before him the factory workman's 
 face, terrible, yes, terrible, from its very simplicity of expres- 
 sion, and the still more terrible faces of the involuntary execu- 
 tioners, with their anxious looks. And he would again open 
 his eyes, and again stared meaninglessly into the darkness 
 around him. 
 
 Next him sat a little man all doubled up, whose presence 
 Pierre was made aware of from the very first by the powerful 
 odor of perspiration which emanated from him every time he 
 moved. This man was engaged in doing something to his 
 feet, and though Pierre could not see his face he felt conscious 
 that this man kept looking at him. By straining his eyes to 
 suit the darkness, Pierre made out that this man was baring 
 his feet. And Pierre began to grow interested in the way in 
 which he performed the operation. 
 
 Having unwound the long band which was twisted around 
 one foot and leg, he carefully rolled it up, and then went to 
 work on the other foot the same way, constantly glancing at 
 Pierre. While one hand was hanging up the first leg-wrap- 
 per, the other had instantly begun to undo the one on the 
 other leg. Having thus bared his feet with precise but flow- 
 ing, well-directed motions whereby no time was lost, the man 
 spread out his foot-gear on the pegs which were driven in just 
 above his head, took out his pocket-knife, pared off something, 
 shut up his knife, thrust it under his pillow, and, having set- 
 tled himself more comfortably, he clasped his knees with both 
 hands and stared straight at Pierre. 
 
 For Pierre there was something agreeable, soothing, and 
 satisfying in these well-regulated motions, and in this man 
 making himself so at home in his corner, even in the odoi
 
 46 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 emanating from him ; and Pierre, without dropping his eyes, 
 returned his gaze. 
 
 " Well, have you seen pretty hard times, barin ? hah ? " 
 suddenly asked the little man. And there was such an 
 expression of gentleness and simple-hearted goodness in the 
 man's sing-song voice that Pierre would have instantly 
 replied, but his jaw trembled and the tears came into his 
 eyes. The little man at the same second, not giving Pierre 
 time to betray his confusion, went on in the same pleasant 
 voice : 
 
 " Ah, my dear friend,* don't repine," said he, in that gentle, 
 sing-song, affectionate tone with which old Russian peasant 
 women talk, "don't repine, my friend. An hour to suffer, 
 but an age to live ! That's the way it is, my dear ! But we 
 live here, thank God, without offence. There's bad men and 
 there's good men as well," said he, and, while still speaking, 
 he got up on his knees with an agile motion, arose, and, 
 coughing, went somewhere. 
 
 " Here, you little rascal, f you've come, have you ! There, 
 there ! that'll do ! " 
 
 And the soldier, pushing off a puppy that was jumping upon 
 liim, returned to his place and sat down. He carried in his 
 hand something wrapped up in a rag. 
 
 " Here's something to eat, barin," said he, returning to his 
 former respectful tone, and, unwrapping the bundle, he gave 
 to Pierre several baked potatoes. " We had porridge for din- 
 ner. But potatoes are excellent." 
 
 Pierre had eaten nothing all day, and the smell of the 
 potatoes seemed to him extraordinarily pleasant. He thanked 
 the soldier and began to eat. 
 
 " Well, how is it ? " asked the soldier, with a smile, and 
 taking one of the potatoes, " do you relish it ? " He again 
 got out his jack-knife, laid the potato on his palm, and cut it 
 into halves, sprinkled salt on from the rag, and offered it 
 to Pierre. " Potatoes excellent," he reiterated. " Eat it that 
 way ! " 
 
 It seemed to Pierre that he had never eaten any viands 
 that tasted more appetizing. 
 
 " No, it makes no difference to me, one way or the other," 
 said Pierre. " But why did they shoot those poor wretches ? 
 The last one wasn't twenty." 
 
 " Ts ! Us ! " said the little man. " A sin ! a sin ! " he 
 quickly added ; and as though words were always ready to his 
 * E sokdlik (little hawk). t Ish sheima.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 47 
 
 lips, and winged to fly away very unexpectedly from them, he 
 added, 
 
 " How was it, barin, that you staid in Moscow ? " 
 
 " I did not think they would come so soon. It was by acci- 
 dent I staid," replied Pierre. 
 
 " And how came they to take you ? Was it from your own 
 house, my dear ? " * 
 
 " No : I was going to the fire, and it was then they seized 
 me, and tried me as an incendiary." 
 
 " Where the tribunal is, there is injustice," said the little 
 man sententiously. 
 
 " Have you been long here ? " asked Pierre, as he munched 
 the last potato. 
 
 "I? Since Sunday. I was taken from the hospital in 
 Moscow." 
 
 " So you were a soldier, were you ? " 
 
 " One of Apsheron's regiment. I was dying of fever. No 
 one had ever told us anything about it. There were twenty 
 of us lying there. We had no idea of such a thing didn't 
 dream of it ! " 
 
 " Well, are you bored at being here ? " 
 
 "How can I help being, my dear ? * My name is Platon; 
 surname, Karatayef," he added, evidently so as to make 
 Pierre's intercourse with him less formal. " They always 
 called me sokolik in the army. How can one help being bored, 
 my dear ? Moscow is the mother of our cities ! How can 
 one look on and see her destruction and not be blue ? The 
 worm gnaws the cabbage, but perishes before it: that's the 
 old folks' saying," he added quickly. 
 
 " What is that remark you made ? " asked Pierre. 
 
 " I ? " demanded Karatayef. " Oh, I said, < Not by our wit, 
 but as God sees fit,' " | said he, thinking he was repeating the 
 former proverb. And immediately he pursued : " And you 
 have property, haven't you, barin ? And have a house ? Your 
 cup must be full. And have a wife ? $ And old folks alive ? " 
 he asked. And Pierre, though he could not see because it 
 was so dark, still knew that the soldier's lips were curved 
 in a respectful smile of friendliness as he asked these ques- 
 tions. 
 
 He was evidently grieved to learn that Pierre had no 
 parents, especially no mother. 
 
 " A wife for advice, a wife's mother for a welcome, but 
 
 * Sokdlik, darling (little hawk), t Nyt ndshim umtim a Btizhyim wdtim. 
 \ KhozyaikVt mistress ol the house,
 
 48 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 nothing sweeter than one's own matushka!" said he. "But 
 have you any children ? " he proceeded to inquire. Pierre's 
 negative reply again evidently grieved him, and he hastened 
 to add : " Well, you are young yet ; God may give them, 
 Only you should live in good understanding " 
 
 " It's all the same to me now," said Pierre, involuntarily. 
 
 "Ekh! My dear man!" exclaimed Platon. "There's no 
 getting rid of the beggar's sack nor of the prison cell ! " He 
 got into a more comfortable attitude, cleared his throat, and 
 was evidently preparing to spin a long yarn. " This was the 
 way, my dear friend,* I lived when I was at home," he began. 
 " We had a rich estate much land peasants lived well, and 
 we in the house too, glory to thee, God ! My batyushka 
 would harvest sevenfold. Lived well, as Christians should! 
 But one time " 
 
 And Platon Karatayef related a long story about how i he 
 went into another man's grove after firewood, and the watch- 
 man had caught him; how he had been flogged, tried, and 
 sent off as a soldier. u Well, my dear friend," f said he, his 
 voice altered by his smile, " it seemed a misfortune ; on the 
 contrary, good thing ! My brother would have had to go if 
 it hadn't been for my sin. But my younger brother had five 
 children, while, you see, I had only a wife to leave. I had a 
 little girl once, but God took her back before I went soldier- 
 ing. I went home 011 leave once. I will tell you about it. 
 I see they live better than they did before. Yard full of 
 live-stock ; women at home ; two brothers off at work. Only 
 Mikhailo, the youngest, at home. And my batyushka, he says, 
 says he, ' All my children's alike to me ; no matter which 
 finger you pinch, it hurts just the same. And if they had not 
 taken Platon, Mikhailo'd had to go.' He took us all in front 
 of the ' images ' would you believe it ? and made us 
 stand there. i Mikhailo,' says he, ' come here. Bow down to 
 the ground before him ; and you, woman, bow down ; and you, 
 little ones, bow down all of you ! Have you understood ? ' says : 
 he. And that's the way it is, my dear friend. 'No escaping j 
 fate.' $ And we are always declaring, i This is not good, or 
 this is all wrong.' But our happiness is like water in a trawl- [ 
 net : pull it along and it's full ; take it out and it's empty ;; 
 That's the way it is." 
 
 And Platon shifted his seat on his straw. 
 
 * Druk moi linbezmd. t Sokdlik 
 
 \ Literally, Fate, destiny, seeks heads. A variant of the proverb 
 'If Fate does not find the man, the man goes to Fate,'
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 49 
 
 After a little space of silence, Platon arose : " Well, I sup- 
 pose you'd like to go to sleep ? " said he, and he began to 
 cross himself, muttering, " Lord Jesus Christ ! Saint Nikola ! 
 Frola and Lavra ! Lord Jesus Christ, Saint Nikola ! Frola 
 and Lavra, Lord Jesus Christ have mercy upon us and save 
 us ! " he said in conclusion, bowed down to the very ground, 
 got up, drew a deep sigh, and lay down on his straw. " Now, 
 O God ! let me ' sleep like a stone, and rise like a loaf,' " * he 
 exclaimed, and lay down, covering himself with his soldier's 
 coat. 
 
 " What was that prayer you were repeating ? " asked Pierre. 
 " Heh ? " said Platon. He was already asleep. " Repeated 
 what ? I was praying to God. Don't you say your prayers ? " 
 "Certainly I say my prayers," replied Pierre. "But what 
 was that about Frola and Lavra ? " f 
 
 " Why," swiftly replied Plaion, " that's the horses' saints. 
 For we must have pity on the cattle," said Karatayef. "Oh, 
 you rascal ! you have come back, have you ? You want to get 
 warm, do you, you nice little slut?" said he, fondling the 
 >uppy at his feet, and, turning over again, instantly fell 
 asleep. 
 
 Outside in the distance were heard the sounds of wailing 
 md yells, and through the cracks in the hut the glare of the 
 ire could be seen, but in the balagan it was dark and still. It 
 was long before Pierre could go to sleep ; and he lay in his 
 >lace in the darkness with wide-open eyes, listening to 
 Baton's measured snoring, as he lay near him, and feeling 
 hat that formerly ruined world was now arising again in his 
 oul, in new beauty and with new and steadfast foundations. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE balagan or hut where Pierre was confined, and where 
 he spent four weeks, contained twenty-three soldiers, three 
 ifficers, and two chinovniks, all prisoners. 
 
 Afterwards all of them seemed to be misty memories to 
 Pierre ; but Platon Karatayef forever remained in Pierre's 
 mind as a most powerful and precious recollection, the very em- 
 >odiment of all that was good and worthy and truly Russian. 
 
 When, on the following day, at dawn, Pierre saw his-neigh- 
 )or, the first impression of something rotund was fully COD 
 
 * Kaldchik (kalatch), a sort of pretzel or light loaf. 
 t Frola and Lavra : Flora and Laura. 
 
 4.
 
 50 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 firmed; Platen's whole figure, in his French overcoat belted 
 with a rope, in his forage cap and bast shoes, was rotund. His 
 head was absolutely round ; his back, his chest, his shoulders, 
 even his arms, which he always carried as though he were 
 always ready to throw them around something, were round ; 
 his pleasant smile and his large, thick brows and his gentle 
 eyes were round. 
 
 Platon Karatayef must have been upwards of fifty, to 
 judge by his stories of campaigns in which he had taken part 
 as a soldier. He himself had no idea, and could never have 
 told with any accuracy, how old he was. But his teeth, 
 brilliantly white and strong, w^ere always displayed in two 
 unbroken rows whenever he laughed, which he often did, 
 and not one was not good and sound. There was not a trace 
 of gray in beard or hair, and his whole frame had the appear- 
 ance of agility and especially of steadfastness and endurance. 
 
 His face, in spite of a multitude of delicate round wrinkles, 
 gave the impression of innocence and youth: his voice was 
 agreeable in its melodious sing-song. But the chief peculiarity 
 of his speech consisted in its spontaneity and shrewdness. He 
 evidently never thought of what he said or what he was going 
 to say. And from this arose the irresistible persuasiveness 
 that was found in the rapidity and certainty of his intona- 
 tions. 
 
 His physical powers and activity were so great during the 
 early part of their term of captivity that it seemed as though 
 he knew not what weariness or ill-health meant. Every 
 morning and evening, as he lay on his couch of straw, he 
 would say : " Lord, let me sleep like a stone, and rise like a 
 loaf." 
 
 When he got up in the morning he always shrugged his 
 shoulders in a certain way and said : " Turn over when you 
 lie down, shake yourself when you get up." And, in point of 
 fact, all he had to do was to lie down, and instantly he would 
 be asleep like a stone ; and all he had to do was to shake him- 
 self, and without a second's delay he would be ready to take 
 up anything, just as children, when they are once up, take to 
 their toys. 
 
 He was a jack-at-all-trades, but neither very good nor very 
 bad at any. He could bake, cook, sew, cut hair, cobble boots. 
 He was always busy, and only when it came night did he 
 allow himself to enjoy social converse, though he enjoyed it, 
 and to sing. He sang his songs, not as singers usually sing, 
 knowing that they will be heard, but he sang as the birds
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 5l 
 
 sing, evidently because it was just as much a necessity upon 
 him as it was for him to stretch 'himself or to walk. And 
 these sounds were always gentle, soft, almost like a woman's, 
 plaintive, and his face, while he was engaged in this, was 
 very grave. 
 
 During his captivity he let his beard grow, and evidently 
 discarded everything extraneous that was foreign or mili- 
 tary, and involuntarily returned to his former condition of the 
 peasant and man of the people. 
 
 " ' A soldier on leave is a shirt made out of drawers,' " he 
 would quote. He was not fond of talking about his soldier- 
 ing days, although he regretted them not, and often declared 
 that during all his term in the service he had not once been 
 flogged. When he had stories to tell he much preferred to 
 confine them to old and evidently precious recollections of 
 the time when he was a serf Khristianin, Christian, he called 
 it, instead of Krestyanin ! 
 
 The proverbs of which he made so much use were not that 
 generally coarse and vulgar slang such as soldiers are apt to 
 employ, but were genuine popular " saws," which seem per- 
 fectly insignificant when taken out of connection, but which 
 suddenly acquire a meaning of deep wisdom when applied 
 appositely. 
 
 He often said things that were diametrically opposed to 
 what he had said before, but yet each statement would be 
 correct. He loved to talk, and talked well, embellishing his 
 discourse with affectionate diminutives and proverbs, which, 
 it seemed to Pierre, the man himself improvised; but the 
 chief charm of his narrations arose from the fact that the 
 simplest events, those which Pierre himself had participated 
 in without being any the wiser, assumed a character of 
 solemn beauty. 
 
 He liked to listen to the yarns though they were all of a 
 single stamp which a certain soldier used to tell evenings, 
 but above all he liked to listen to tales of actual life. 
 
 He smiled blithely while listening to such tales, suggesting 
 words and asking questions conducive to bringing out all the 
 beauty of what was related to him. 
 
 Special attachments, friendships, loves, as Pierre under- 
 stood them, Karatayef had none ; but he liked all men, and 
 lived in a loving way with all with whom his life brought him 
 in contact, and especially with men not any particular men 
 but with such as were in his sight. He loved his dog ; he 
 loved his comrades, the French j he loved Pierre, who was his
 
 52 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 companion ; but Pierre felt that Karatayef, in spite of all that 
 affectionate spirit which he manifested toward him, and 
 which he could not help giving as a tribute to Pierre's spirit- 
 ual life, not for one moment would grieve over separation. 
 And Pierre also began to have the same feeling toward 
 Karatayef. 
 
 Platon Karatayef was, in the eyes of all the other prisoners, 
 a most ordinary soldier. They called him sokolik, "little 
 hawk," or Platdsha, good-naturedly quizzed him, made him do 
 odd jobs for them. 
 
 But for Pierre he remained forever what he had seemed to 
 him the first night, the incomprehensible, rotund, and eter- 
 nal personification of the spirit of simplicity and truth. 
 
 The only thing that Platon Karatayef knew merely by 
 rote was his prayer. When he talked, he, it would appeay, 
 would have no idea where, having once begun, it would bring 
 him out. 
 
 When Pierre, as sometimes happened, missed the sense of 
 what he said, and would ask him to repeat himself, Platon 
 would not be able to remember what he had spoken only the 
 minute before, just as in the same way he could not give 
 Pierre the words of his favorite song. The words were : 
 Rodimaya, beryozanka i toshnenko mnye, Mother, little 
 birch-tree, sick at heart am I, but there was no coherent 
 sense in those words. He could not remember or define words 
 apart from the context. 
 
 Every word he spoke and everything that he did was the 
 manifestation of that, to him, incomprehensible activity, his 
 life. But his life, as he himself looked upon it, had no sense 
 as a separate existence. It had sense only as it was a part of 
 the great whole of which he was constantly conscious. His 
 words and deeds flowed from him as regularly, unavoidably, 
 and spontaneously as the fragrance exhales from a flower. He 
 could not comprehend either the object or the significance of 
 words or deeds taken out of their proper connection. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE Princess Mariya, having learned from Nikolai that her 
 brother was with the Eostofs at Yaroslavl, immediately, in 
 spite of her aunt's dissuasion, made her arrangements to join 
 him, not alone, but with her nephew. 
 
 She did not ask herself whether this, would be hard or easy,
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 53 
 
 feasible or impossible, and she cared not to know : it was her 
 duty not only to be with her brother, who perhaps was dying, 
 but also to put forth her utmost endeavors to bring his son to 
 him, and she was bound to go. 
 
 If Prince Andrei himself did not send her word, it was to 
 be explained, the princess was certain, either because he was 
 too feeble to write, or because he felt that the long, round- 
 about journey would be too hard and perilous for her and his 
 son. 
 
 In a few days the Princess Mariya was ready for the jour- 
 ney. Her outfit consisted of the vast, princely coach in which 
 she had made the journey to Voronezh, a britchka and a bag- 
 gage-wagon. She was accompanied by Mile. Bourienne, Niko- 
 lushka with his tutor, the old nyanya, three maids, Tikhon, a 
 young footman, and a haiduk whom her aunt sent with her. 
 
 To go by the usual route, by way of Moscow, was not even 
 to be thought of, and therefore the roundabout journey which 
 the princess had to take through Lipetsk. Rlazan, Vladimir, 
 Shuya, was very long, and, by reason of the dearth of post- 
 horses, very difficult, and in the vicinity of Biazan, where, so 
 it was said, the French had begun to appear, even perilous. 
 
 During this trying journey, Mile. Bourienne, Dessalles, and 
 the Princess Mariya's servants, were amazed at her steadfast- 
 ness and activity. She was the last of all to retire, she was 
 the first of all to rise, and no difficulties sufficed to daunt her. 
 Thanks to her activity and energy, which inspirited her com- 
 panions, at the end of the second week they reached Yaroslavl. 
 
 During the last part of her stay in Voronezh, the Princess 
 Mariya had experienced the keenest joy of her life. Her love 
 for Rostof 110 longer tormented her or excited her. This love 
 filled her whole soul, had made itself an inseparable part of her 
 being, and she no longer struggled against it. Of late, the 
 Princess Mariya had persuaded herself though she never 
 said this in so many words even to herself that she loved, 
 and was loved in return. She was convinced of this at her 
 last meeting with Nikolai, when he came to explain that her 
 brother was with his parents. 
 
 Nikolai had not intimated by a single word that now, in 
 case of Prince Andrei's restoration to health, the former re- 
 lations between him and Natasha would be renewed, but the 
 Princess Mariya saw by Nikolai's face that he knew it was 
 possible and had thought of it. 
 
 And, nevertheless, his relations toward her, so considerate, 
 80 gentle, and so affectionate, not only underwent no change,
 
 54 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 but lie was apparently delighted, because now the kinship 
 between him and the Princess Mariya gave him greater free- 
 dom in manifesting to her his friendship-love, for such the 
 princess sometimes considered it to be. The Princess Mariya 
 knew that this, in her case, was love for the first and last time 
 in her life, and she felt that she was loved, and she was happy 
 and calm in this state of things. 
 
 But this happiness did not prevent her from feeling grief in 
 all its force for her brother : on the contrary, this spiritual 
 composure, in one sense, permitted her greater possibility of 
 giving herself up completely to this feeling for her brother. 
 
 This feeling was so intense at the first moment of her de- 
 parture from Voronezh that her attendants were convinced, as 
 they looked into her anguished, despairing face, that she would 
 assuredly fall ill on the way ; but the difficulties and trials of 
 the journey, which employed so much of her energies, saved 
 her for the time being from her grief, and imparted strength 
 to her. 
 
 As is always the case during a journey, the Princess Mariya 
 had no other thought than about the journey, and forgot the 
 object for which it was undertaken. But, as she approached 
 Yaroslavl, when what was possibly before her recurred to her, 
 and she realized that it was to be that very evening and not at 
 the end of days, the Princess Mariya's agitation reached its 
 utmost limits. 
 
 When the ha'iduk who had been sent forward to find where 
 in Yaroslavl the Rostofs were quartered, and how Prince 
 Andrei was, rode back and met the great travelling-coach at 
 the barriers, he was horror-struck to see the princess's terribly 
 pallid face, as she put it out of the window. 
 
 " I have found out all about it, your ladyship : * the 
 Rostofs are on the square, at the house of the merchant 
 Bronnikof. Not very far from here, right on the Volga," said 
 the ha'iduk. 
 
 The Princess Mariya looked into his face anxiously and 
 inquiringly, not understanding why he did not reply to the 
 question that chiefly occupied her : " How is my brother ? " 
 
 Mademoiselle Bourienne asked this question for the 
 princess. 
 
 " How is the prince ? " asked she. 
 
 " His illustriousness is with them in the same house." 
 
 " Of course, then, he must be alive," thought the princess, 
 and she softly asked : " How is he ? " 
 
 * Vashe siydtelstvo (illustriousness),
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 55 
 
 " The servants say he is still in the same condition." 
 
 The princess did not dream of asking what he meant by 
 being "in the same condition/' and imperceptibly giving a 
 swift glance at the seven-year-old Nikolushka, who was sit- 
 ting next her and rejoicing in the sight of the city, she 
 dropped her head and did not look up again until the heavy 
 carriage, rumbling, jolting, and swaying, stopped somewhere. 
 The steps were let down with a clatter. The door was thrown 
 open. At the left was water the great river ; at the right, 
 a door-step ; on the door-step were servants and a young, 
 ruddy-faced girl, with a long, dark switch of hair, who wore 
 what seemed to the Princess Mariya a disagreeably hypocrit- 
 ical smile. 
 
 This was Sonya. 
 
 The princess got out and mounted the steps ; the hypocriti- 
 cally smiling young girl said, " This way, this way, 7 ' and the 
 princess found herself in the anteroom, in the presence of an 
 elderly woman, with an Eastern type of face, who, with a 
 flurried expression, came swiftly to meet her. 
 
 This was the old countess. 
 
 She threw her arms around the Princess Mariya and began 
 to kiss her. 
 
 " My child ! " she exclaimed, " I love you and I have known 
 you for a long time." * 
 
 In spite of all her agitation the princess realized that this 
 was the countess and that she must say something to her. 
 She, without knowing how she did it, murmured a few polite 
 words in French, in the same tone in which those spoken to 
 her were said, and then she asked, " How is he ? " 
 
 " The doctor says that there is no danger," said the coun- 
 tess ; but even while she made that remark she sighed and 
 raised her eyes to heaven, and in this action contradicted 
 what she had just said. 
 
 " Where is he ? May I see him ? May I ? " asked the 
 princess. 
 
 " Directly, princess, directly, dear friend ! Is this his 
 son ? " she asked, turning to Nikolushka, who had come in 
 with Dessalles. u There will be room enough for us all. It 
 is a large house. Oh, what a lovely little boy ! " 
 
 The countess took the princess into the drawing-room. 
 Sonya engaged in conversation with Mademoiselle Bourienne. 
 The countess fondled the boy. The old count came into the 
 room to pay his respects to the princess. 
 
 * Mon enfant ! je vous aime et vous connais depuis longtemps.
 
 56 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 The old count had completely altered since the princess had 
 seen him the last time. Then he was a lively, jovial, self- 
 confident little old man ; now he seemed like a melancholy 
 wreck of himself. As he talked with the countess he kept 
 looking round, as though he were asking all present whether 
 he were doing the proper thing. After the destruction of 
 Moscow and his property, being taken out of the ruts in which 
 he was accustomed to run, he had apparently lost his bearings, 
 and felt that there was no longer any place for him in life. 
 
 In spite of her one desire to see her brother as speedily as 
 possible, and her annoyance because at the moment when she 
 might be gratifying this desire, and seeing him, she was 
 obliged to exchange courtesies with these people, and to listen 
 to pretended praise of her nephew, still the princess kept a 
 close watch on everything around her, and felt that it was 
 incumbent upon her to conform to the new order of things 
 into which she had fallen. She knew that it was a necessity, 
 and, hard as it was, still she kept her temper. 
 
 " This is my niece," said the count, introducing Sonya. 
 " You have not met her, have you, princess ? " 
 
 The princess turned to her, and, trying to overmaster the 
 feeling of hostility that this young lady caused in her heart, 
 she gave her a kiss. But it was made hard for her because of 
 the want of harmony between all these people and what was 
 in her own heart. 
 
 " Where is he ? " she asked again, addressing no one in 
 particular. 
 
 " He is downstairs. Natasha is with him," replied Sonya, 
 coloring. " They've sent word to him. I think you must be 
 tired, princess." 
 
 Tears of vexation arose to the princess's eyes. She turned 
 away, and was going once more to ask the countess how she 
 could go to him, when light, impetuous, one might almost say 
 jocund, steps were heard in the adjoining room. The princess 
 glanced round and saw Natasha almost running, that same 
 Natasha who, when she had last seen her in Moscow, had so 
 completely failed to please her. 
 
 The princess had scarcely glanced into the face of this 
 Natasha before she perceived that this was a genuine sympa- 
 thizer in her grief, and hence her friend. She went to meet 
 her, and, throwing her arms around her, melted into tears on 
 her neck. 
 
 As soon as Natasha, who had been sitting by Prince 
 Andrei's bedside, learned of the princess's arrival, she had
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 57 
 
 quietly left the room, and with, the same swift and, as it 
 seemed to the Princess Mariya, jocund steps, hurried to meet 
 her. 
 
 On her agitated face there was only one expression when 
 she came into the room the expression of love, unbounded 
 love for him, for his sister, for everything that was near arid 
 dear to this beloved man, the expression of pity, of sympathy 
 for others, and a passionate desire to give herself up entirely 
 if only he might find help. It was evident that, at that mo- 
 ment, there was no room in Natasha's soul for thoughts about 
 herself, or about her relations toward him. 
 
 The sensitive Princess Mariya, at the first glance into 
 Natasha's face, realized all this, and, with a bitter sweetness, 
 she wept on her neck. 
 
 " Let us go to him ; come, Marie ! " exclaimed Natasha, lead- 
 ing her into the next room. 
 
 The Princess Mariya looked up, wiped her eyes, and was 
 about to ask Natasha a question. She felt that from her she 
 could ask and learn all that she wanted to know. 
 
 " How " she began to ask, but suddenly jpaused. She 
 felt that her question could not be asked or answered in 
 words. Natasha's face and eyes would tell her everything 
 more clearly and with profounder meaning. 
 
 Natasha looked at her, but, it seemed, she was in too great 
 fear or doubt, either to tell or not to tell all that she knew ; 
 she seemed to feel that, in presence of those lucid eyes, search- 
 ing the very depths of her soul, it was impossible not to tell 
 the whole truth, everything as she herself saw it. Natasha's 
 lip suddenly trembled, the ugly wrinkles grew more pro- 
 nounced around her mouth, and she burst into tears, and hid 
 her face in her hands. 
 
 The Princess Mariya understood all. 
 
 But still she hoped, and she asked in words in which she 
 had no faith, 
 
 " But how is his wound ? What is his general condition ? " 
 
 " You you will see for yourself," was all that Natasha 
 could manage to say. 
 
 The two waited for some time downstairs, next his room, 
 so as to finish crying, and to go to him with composed faces. 
 
 " How has his whole illness gone ? Has the change for the 
 worse been of recent occurrence ? When did this take place ? " 
 asked the Princess Mariya. 
 
 Natasha had told her that during the first part of the time 
 there was danger from his fever and suffering, but that at
 
 58 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 Troitsa this had passed off, and the doctor had only feared 
 Anthony's fire. But even this danger of mortification had 
 been avoided. When they reached Yaroslavl, the wound began 
 to suppurate (Natasha understood all about suppuration and 
 such things), arid the doctor said that the suppuration might 
 take its normal course. There had been some fever. The 
 doctor declared that this fever was not ominous. " But two 
 days before," Natasha said, " this had suddenly come upon 
 him." She restrained her sobs. "I don't know why, but 
 you will see how he is." 
 
 " Has he grown weaker ? Has he grown thin ? " asked 
 the princess. 
 
 "No, not exactly, but thinner. You will see. Ah, Marie ! 
 he is too good; he cannot, cannot live because" 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 WHEN Natasha, with her ordinary composure, opened the 
 door of his room, allowing the princess to enter before her, 
 the Princess Mariya felt that the sobs were already swelling 
 her throat. In spite of her preparations, her endeavors to 
 compose herself, she knew that she should not be able to see 
 him without tears. 
 
 The Princess Mariya comprehended what Natasha meant 
 by the phrase, " Two days before, this had suddenly come 
 lipon him" She realized what it meant that he had sud- 
 denly grown softened: this sweetness and humility were the 
 symptoms of death. As she entered the doorway, she already 
 saw in her fancy that face of her Andriusha, which she had 
 known in childhood, gentle, sweet, full of feeling, sensitive, in 
 a way that later had rarely shown itself, and which had, there- 
 fore, always made such a vivid impression upon her. She 
 knew that he would speak to her those subdued, affectionate 
 words, like what her father had spoken just before he died, 
 and that she would not be able to endure it, and would burst 
 into tears before him. 
 
 But sooner or later it had to be, and she entered the room. 
 The sobs rose higher and higher in her throat, as, with greater 
 and greater distinctness, with her near-sighted eyes, she dis- 
 tinguished his form and searched his features, and then she 
 saw his face and met his eyes. 
 
 He lay on a sofa, propped up with pillows, and wrapped in 
 a squirrel-skin khalat. He was thin and pale. One thin,
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 59 
 
 transparently white hand held his handkerchief; with the 
 other he was, by a gentle motion of the fingers, caressing the 
 long ends of his mustache. His eyes were turned toward 
 the visitors. 
 
 When the Princess Mariya saw his face and her eyes met 
 his, she suddenly modified the haste of her steps, and felt that 
 her tears were suddenly dried and her sobs relieved. As she 
 caught the expression of his face and eyes, she suddenly grew 
 awestruck, and felt that she was guilty. 
 
 " But what am I guilty of ? " she asked herself. 
 
 "Because thou art alive, and art thinking of the future, 
 while I ? " was the reply of his cold, stern look. 
 
 In that look of his, not outward from within, but turned 
 inward upon himself, there was almost an expression of hos- 
 tility, as he slowly turned his eyes on his sister and Natasha. 
 He exchanged kisses with his sister, and shook hands as 
 usual. 
 
 " How are you, Marie ? How did you get here ? " he asked, 
 but his voice had the same monotonous and alien sound that 
 was in his look. If he had uttered a desperate cry, this cry 
 would have filled the Princess Mariya with less horror than 
 the sound of his voice. "And have you brought Niko- 
 lushka ? " he asked, in the same slow, indifferent way, and 
 evidently finding it hard to recollect. 
 
 " How are you now ? " inquired the Princess Mariya, 
 amazed, herself, at her question. 
 
 "That you must ask of the doctor," he replied, and evi- 
 dently collecting his strength, so as to be more gracious, he 
 said with his lips alone (it was evident that he did not think 
 at all of what he was saying), " Herd, chdre amie, d'etre venue 
 Thank you for coming ! " 
 
 The Princess Mariya pressed his hand. He almost notice- 
 ably frowned at the pressure of her hand. He was silent, 
 and she knew not what to say. She now understood what had 
 come over him two days before. In his words, in his tone, 
 especially in this glance of his. this cold, almost hostile look, 
 could be perceived that alienation from all that is of this 
 world, that is so terrible for a living man to witness. He 
 evidently found it difficult to understand the interests of life, 
 but at the same time one could feel that this was so not because 
 he was deprived of the power of remembrance, but because 
 his mind was turned to something else, which the living com- 
 prehend not and cannot comprehend, and which was absorb- 
 ing him entirely.
 
 60 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 " Yes ; see what a strange fate has brought us together 
 again!" said he, breaking the silence, and indicating Natasha 
 " She has taken care of me all the time/'' 
 
 The Princess Mariya heard him and understood not what 
 he said. He, the sensitive, gentle Prince Andrei, how could 
 he say this of her whom he loved and who loved him ? If he 
 had had any thought of living he could never have made such 
 a remark in such a coldly insulting tone. If he had not 
 known that he was going to die, how could he have failed to 
 pity her, how could he have said such a thing in her presence ! 
 The only explanation could be that to him it was a matter of 
 indifference and wholly of indifference, because something 
 else, something far more important, had been revealed to him. 
 
 The conversation was cold, desultory, and interrupted every 
 instant. 
 
 " Marie came through Riazan," said Natasha. 
 
 Prince Andrei did riot remark that she had spoken of his 
 sister as Marie. But Natasha, having called her so for the 
 first time, noticed it herself. 
 
 " Well, what about it ? " he asked. 
 
 " They told her that Moscow was all on fire, all burned up, 
 and that " 
 
 Natasha paused : it was impossible for her to speak. He 
 was evidently making an effort to listen, and still could not. 
 
 " Oh, yes, burned," said he. " Too bad ! " and again he 
 looked straight ahead, smoothing his mustache abstractedly 
 with his fingers. 
 
 "And so you met Count Nikolai, did you, Marie ^"sud- 
 denly asked -Prince Andrei, evidently trying to say something 
 pleasant. '' He wrote home that he was very much in love 
 with you," he pursued very simply and calmly, evidently not 
 being strong enough to realize all the complicated significance 
 which his words had for the living. " If you love him also, 
 then it would be a very good thing if you were to marry," 
 he added a little more rapidly, as though rejoiced to find at 
 last words which he had been long trying to find. 
 
 The Princess Mariya heard his words, but they had for her 
 no meaning, except as they showed how terribly far he was 
 now from all earthly interests. 
 
 " Why speak about me ? " she asked composedly, and 
 glanced at Natasha. Natasha, feeling conscious of this glance, 
 did not look at her. 
 
 Again all were silent. 
 
 "Andre, do you wa ," suddenly asked the princess in
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 61 
 
 trembling voice " do you want to see Nikolushka ? He is 
 always talking about you. 77 
 
 Prince Andrei for the first time smiled, though almost im- 
 perceptibly ; but his sister, who knew his face so well, observed 
 to her horror that this was not a smile of pleasure or of affec- 
 tion for his son, but one of quiet, sweet irony at his sister 
 employing, as Ipe supposed, this final means of bringing him 
 back to conscious emotion. 
 
 " Yes, very glad to see Nikolushka. Is he well ? " 
 
 When they brought to Prince Andrei his little Nikolushka, 
 who gazed in terror at his father, but did not weep, because 
 no one else was weeping, Prince Andrei kissed him, and 
 evidently knew not what to say to him. 
 
 When Nikolushka was led away again, the Princess Mariya 
 returned to her brother, kissed him, and, unable to control her- 
 self longer, burst into tears. 
 
 He gazed at her steadily. 
 
 " Are you crying for Nikolushka ? 77 he asked. 
 
 The princess, weeping, nodded affirmatively. 
 
 "Marie, you know the New Tes 7J but he suddenly 
 stopped. 
 
 " What did you say ? " 
 
 " Nothing. But you must not weep here, 77 he added, look- 
 ing at her with the same cold look. 
 
 When the Princess Mariya burst into tears, he understood 
 that she was weeping because Nikolushka would be left father- 
 less. 
 
 By a great effort of self-mastery he tried to return to life 
 and look upon things from their standpoint. 
 
 " Yes, it must seem very sad to them, 77 he thought, " but 
 how simple this is ! the fowls of the air sow not, neither 
 do they reap, yet your heavenly Father feedeth them,' 7 he 
 said to himself, and that was what he was going to say to the 
 princess ; " but no, they understood that in their way ; they 
 will not comprehend it. They cannot comprehend that all 
 these feelings which they cherish, all these ideas which 
 seem to us so important, are of no consequence. We cannot 
 understand each other. 77 And so he held his peace. 
 
 Prince Andrei 7 s little son was seven years old. He scarcely 
 knew how to read. He really knew nothing. He went 
 through much subsequent to that day, acquiring knowledge,
 
 62 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 the habit of observation, experience ; but if he had at that 
 time enjoyed the mastery of all that he acquired later, he 
 could not have had a deeper, truer comprehension of the 
 significance of that scene between his father, the Princess 
 Mariya, and Natasha, than he had then. He understood it 
 perfectly, and, not shedding a tear, he left the room, silently 
 crept up to Natasha, who followed him, and shyly looked at 
 her out of his beautiful, dreamy eyes ; his short li x trembled ; 
 he leaned his head against her and wept. 
 
 From that day he avoided Dessalles, avoided th_ ountess, 
 who petted him, and either staid alone by himself or timidly 
 joined the Princess Mariya and Natasha, whom he, as it 
 seemed, liked better than his aunt, and quietly and shyly 
 staid by them. 
 
 The Princess Mariya, on leaving her brother, perfectly 
 comprehended what Natasha's face had told her. She said 
 nothing more about any hope of saving his life. She took 
 turns with her in sitting by his sofa, and she ceased to weep ; 
 but she prayed without ceasing, her soul turning to that 
 eternal, searchless One, whose presence so palpably hovered 
 over the dying man. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 PRINCE ANDREI not only knew that he was going to die, but 
 he also felt that he was dying, that he was already half-way 
 toward death. 
 
 He experienced a consciousness of alienation from every- 
 thing earthly, and a strange, beatific exhilaration of being. 
 Without impatience and without anxiety, he waited for what 
 was before him. 
 
 That ominous, Eternal Presence, unknown and far away, 
 which had never once ceased, throughout all his life, to haunt 
 his senses, was now near at hand, and, by reason of that 
 strange exhilaration which he felt, almost comprehensible and 
 palpable. 
 
 Before, he had feared the end. Twice he had experienced 
 that terribly tormenting sense of the fear of death, of the end, 
 and now he did not realize it. 
 
 The first time he had experienced that feeling was when 
 the shell was spinning like a top before him, and he looked at
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 63 
 
 the stubble field, at the shrubbery, at the sky, and knew thai 
 death was before him. 
 
 When he waked to consciousness, after his wound, and in 
 his soul, for an instant, as it were, freed from the burden of 
 life that crushed him, had sprung up that flower of love eter- 
 nal, unbounded, independent of all life, he no longer feared 
 death, and thought no more of it. 
 
 During those tormenting hours of loneliness and half-delir- 
 ium which he had spent since he was wounded, the more he 
 pondered over this new; source of eternal love which had at 
 first been concealed from him, the more he became alienated 
 from the earthly life, though the process was an unconscious 
 one. 
 
 To love everything, all men, always to sacrifice self for 
 love's sake, meant to love no one in particular, meant not to 
 live this mundane life. And the more he imbued himself 
 with this source of love, the more he let go of life, and the 
 more absolutely he broke down that terrible impediment 
 which, if love be absent, holds between life and death. 
 
 When, during this first period, he remembered that he must 
 die, he said to himself, " Well, then, so much the better." 
 
 But after that night at Muitishchi, when in his semi- 
 delirium she whom he had longed for appeared before him, 
 and when he, pressing his lips to her hand, had wept gentle 
 tears of joy, then love for one woman imperceptibly took pos- 
 session of his heart and again attached it to life. And joyful 
 but anxious thoughts began to recur to him. As he remem- 
 bered the moment at the field lazaret, when he had seen 
 Kuragin, he could not now renew that former feeling ~> he was 
 tortured by the question : " Is he alive ? " But he dared not 
 make the inquiry. 
 
 His illness followed its physical course, but what Natasha 
 had spoken of as having come over him happened two days 
 before the Princess Mariya's arrival. This was the last moral 
 combat between life and death, and death had been victorious. 
 It was the unexpected discovery that he still prized his 
 life, which presented itself in the guise of his love for 
 Natasha, and the last victorious attack of horror before the 
 unknown. 
 
 It was evening. As was usually the case after dinner, he 
 was in a slightly feverish condition, and his mind was .preter- 
 naturally acute. Sonya was sitting by the table. Suddenly, 
 a realizing sense of bliss took possession of him. 
 
 " Ah ! she has come ! " he said to himself.
 
 64 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 In point of fact, Sony a' s place was occupied by Natasha, 
 who had just come in with noiseless steps. 
 
 Ever since the time when she had begun to be his nurse, he 
 had always experienced this physical sense of her presence. 
 
 She sat in the easy-chair, with her side toward him, shading 
 his eyes from the candle-light, and knitting stockings. (She 
 had learned to knit stockings because one time Prince Andrei 
 had told her that no one made such admirable nurses for the 
 sick as old nyanyas, who are always knitting stockings, be- 
 cause there is something very soothing in the operation of 
 knitting.) Her slender fingers swiftly plied the occasionally 
 clicking needles, and the pensive profile of her bended head 
 was full in his sight. She moved the ball of yarn rolled 
 from her lap. She started, glanced at him, and shading the 
 candle with her hand, with a cautious, lithe, and graceful 
 movement, she bent over, picked up the ball, and resumed 
 her former position. 
 
 He looked at her without stirring, and noticed that after 
 she had picked up the ball she had wanted to draw a long 
 breath, with her full bosom, but had refrained from doing so, 
 and had cautiously masked her sigh. 
 
 At the Troitskaya Lavra they had talked over the past, and 
 he had told her that in case he lived he should eternally 
 thank God for his wound, which had brought him back to 
 her ; but from that time they had not spoken of the future. 
 
 " Can it possibly be ? " he was now musing, as he looked at 
 her and listened to the slight steely click of her knitting nee- 
 dles, " can it be that fate has so strangely brought us together 
 again only that I may die ? . . . Can it be that the true mean- 
 ing of life was revealed to me only that I might live in a lie ? 
 I love her more than all else in the world. But what can I do 
 if I love her ? " he asked himself, and he suddenly, in spite 
 of himself, groaned, as he often did, out of a custom acquired 
 while he had been suffering. 
 
 Hearing this sound, Natasha laid down her stocking, bent 
 nearer to him, and, suddenly noticing his flashing eyes, she 
 went over to him and bent down to him. 
 
 " Haven't you been asleep ? " 
 
 " No I have been looking at you this long time. I knew 
 by feeling when you came in. No one except you gives me 
 such a sense of gentle restfulness. Such light ! I feel 
 like weeping from very joy." 
 
 Natasha moved still closer to him. Her face was radiant 
 with solemn delight. 

 
 WAR AND PEACE. 65 
 
 " Natasha, I love you too dearly ! More than all in the 
 world ! " 
 
 " And I ? " She turned away for an instant. " Why * too 
 dearly ' ? " she asked. 
 
 "Why too dearly ? Now tell me what you think what 
 you think in the depths of your heart ! shall I get well ? 
 How does it seem to you ? " 
 
 " I am sure of it, sure of it," Natasha almost screamed, with 
 a passionate motion seizing both his hands. 
 
 He was silent. 
 
 << How good it would be ! " And, taking her hand, he kissed 
 it. 
 
 Natasha was happy and agitated ; and instantly she remem- 
 bered that this was all wrong, that he needed to be kept per- 
 fectly quiet. 
 
 " However, you have not been asleep," said she, calming her 
 pleasure. " Try to get a nap please do." 
 
 He relinquished her hand, after pressing it once again, and 
 she went back to the candle and resumed her former position. 
 Twice she looked at him ; his eyes met hers. She set herself 
 a stint on the stocking, and resolved that she would not look 
 up until she had finished it. 
 
 In point of fact, soon after this he closed his eyes, and went 
 to sleep. He did not sleep long, and woke suddenly in a cold 
 perspiration of anxiety. 
 
 While he slept, his mind was constantly occupied with the 
 question : death, or life ? And death more than life ! He felt 
 that it was near. 
 
 " Love ? What is love ? " he asked himself. 
 
 " Love is the antidote to death. Love is life. All, all that 
 I understand, I understand solely because I love. All is, all 
 exists simply and solely because I love. All is summed up in 
 this alone. Love is God ; and death for me, who am a tiny 
 particle of love, means returning into the universal and eternal 
 source of love." 
 
 These thoughts seemed to him a consolation. But they 
 were only thoughts. There was something lacking in them, 
 something that was exclusive and personal there was no 
 basis of reality. And he was a prey to the same restlessness 
 and lack of clearness. 
 
 He fell asleep. 
 
 It seemed to him, in his dream, that he was lying in the 
 same room in which he was actually lying, but that he was not 
 wounded, but quite well. Many different persons, insignificant, 
 VOL. 4. 5.
 
 66 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 indifferent, appear before him. Pie is talking with thorn, 
 discussing something of no earthly consequence. They are 
 preparing to go somewhere. Prince Andrei dimly compre- 
 hends that all this is mere waste of time, and that he has 
 something of real importance to accomplish, but still he goe 
 on talking, filling them with amazement at his words, which 
 are witty but devoid of sense. 
 
 Gradually, but imperceptibly, all these persons begin to dis- 
 appear, and his attention is wholly occupied by the question 
 of a closed door. He gets up and goes to the door, with the 
 intention of pushing the bolt and closing the door. 
 
 Everything depends on whether he succeeds or not in clos- 
 ing it. He starts, he tries to make haste, but his legs refuse 
 to move, and he knows that he will not have time to close the 
 door, but still he morbidly puts forth all his energies. And 
 a painful anguish of fear takes hold of him. And this fear is 
 the fear of death : behind the door It is standing. 
 
 But by the time that he feebly, awkwardly drags himself to 
 the door, this something horrible, pushing its way from the 
 other side, breaks through. Something that is not human 
 Death is pushing the door open, and he must keep it shut. 
 He clutches the door, exerts his final energies, not indeed to 
 shut it, for that is impossible, but to hold it ; his energies, 
 however, are weak and maladroit, and, crushing him with its 
 horror, the door opens and again closes. 
 
 Once more the pressure came from without. His last, su- 
 perhuman energies were vain, and both wings of the door 
 noiselessly swung open. It came in, and it was death. 
 
 And Prince Andrei was dying. 
 
 But at the very instant that he seemed to be dying, Prince 
 Andrei remembered that he was asleep, and at the very instant 
 that he was dying, he made one last effort and awoke. 
 
 " Yes, that was death. I died I woke up. Yes, death is 
 an awakening." 
 
 This thought suddenly flashed through his soul, and the veil 
 which till then had covered the unknown was lifted from be- 
 fore his spiritual eyes. He felt as it were a deliverance from 
 the bonds which before had fastened him down, and that 
 strange buoj^ancy that henceforth did not forsake him. 
 
 When he woke in a cold sweat and stirred on his couch, and 
 Natasha came to him and asked him what was the matter, he 
 made no reply, and, not understanding what she said, gave her 
 a strange look. 
 
 This was what had taken place two days before the Princess
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 67 
 
 Mariya's arrival. From that day, as the doctor said, his slow 
 fever took a turn for the worse, but Natasha had no need to 
 depend on what the doctor said : she could see for herself those 
 terrible moral symptoms which allowed less and less room for 
 doubt. 
 
 From that time forth began for Prince Andrei, simultane- 
 ously with the awakening from his dream, the awakening from 
 life. And, considering the length of life, this seemed to him 
 no slower than the awakening from the dream when com- 
 pared to the length of his nap. 
 
 There was nothing terrible and nothing cruel in this rela- 
 tively slow awakening. 
 
 The last days and hours glided away peacefully and simply. 
 Both the Princess Mariya and Natasha, who staid constantly 
 by his side, felt this. They wept not, they trembled not, and 
 the last part of the time, as they themselves realized, they 
 were watching, not the man himself, for he was no more, he 
 had gone from them, but simply the most immediate remem- 
 brance of him, simply his body. 
 
 The feelings of both were so strong that the external, ter- 
 rible side of death had no effect upon them, and they found it 
 unnecessary to give vent to their grief. They wept neither 
 in his presence nor when away from him, and they never 
 talked about him among themselves. They felt that they 
 could not express in words what was real to their under- 
 standings. 
 
 They both saw how he was sinking, deeper and deeper, 
 slowly and peacefully away from them into the whither, and 
 they both knew that this was inevitable and that it was well. 
 He was shrived and partook of the sacrament. All came to 
 bid him farewell. 
 
 When his little son was brought, he kissed him and turned 
 away, not because his heart was sore and filled with pity (the 
 Princess Mariya and Natasha understood this), but simply 
 because he supposed that this was all that was required of 
 him. But when he was told that he should give him his 
 blessing, he did what was required of him, and looked around 
 as- though asking whether it were necessary to do anything 
 more. 
 
 When the last gentle spasms shook the body, as it was 
 deserted by the spirit, the princess and Natasha were present. 
 
 " It is over ! " said the Princess Mariya, after his body had 
 Jain motionless and growing cold for several moments. Na- 
 tasha came to the couch, looked into his dead eyes, and made
 
 68 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 haste to close them. She closed them and kissed them not, 
 but reverently kissed that which had been the most imme- 
 diate remembrance of him. 
 
 " Where has he gone ? Where is he now ? " 
 
 When the mortal frame, washed and clad, lay in the coffin 
 on the table, they all went in to say farewell, and all shed 
 tears. 
 
 Nikolushka wept from the tormenting perplexity that tore 
 his young heart. 
 
 The countess and Sonya wept from sympathy for Natasha, 
 and because he was no more. 
 
 The old count wept because very soon, as it seemed to him, 
 he also would have to tread this terrible path. 
 
 Natasha and the princess also wept now, but they wept 
 not because of their own personal sorrow ; they wept from a 
 reverent emotion which took possession of their souls in 
 presence of the simple and solemn mystery of death, which 
 had been accomplished before their eyes.
 
 PART SECOND. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE association of cause and effect is something beyond the 
 comprehension of the human mind. But the impulse to search 
 into causes is inherent in man's very nature. And the human 
 intellect, unable to search the infinite variety and complicated 
 tangle of conditions accompanying phenomena, every one 
 of which may seem to be the ultimate cause, seizes upon 
 the first and most obvious coincidence, and says, " This is the 
 cause ! " 
 
 In historical events where the acts of men are the object of 
 investigation, that which first suggests itself seems to be the 
 will of the gods ; then the will of those men who stand in the 
 forefront of historical prominence historical heroes. 
 
 But it requires only to penetrate into the essence of any 
 historical event, that is, the activity of the whole mass of the 
 people who took part in the event, to become convinced that 
 the will of the historical hero not only did not guide the actions 
 of the masses, but, on the contrary, was constantly guided by 
 them. 
 
 It would seem as though it were a matter of indifference 
 whether the significance of an historical event were explained 
 in one way or another. But between the man who should say 
 that the nations of the west marched against the east because 
 Napoleon wished them to do so, and the man who should say 
 that this happened because it had to happen, there is as wide 
 a difference as between men who are convinced that the earth 
 stands fixed and that the planets move around it, and those 
 who assert that they know not what holds the earth, but they 
 know that there are laws which govern the motion of the 
 earth and the other planets. 
 
 The causes of historical events can be nothing else than the 
 only cause of all causes. But there are laws which govern 
 events, and some of them are unknown to us, and some of 
 them we have investigated. The discovery of these causes is 
 possible only when we repudiate the idea that these causes 
 
 69
 
 70 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 may be found in the will of a single man, exactly in the same 
 way as the discovery of the laws governing the motions of the 
 planets became possible only when men repudiated the notion 
 of the fixity of the earth. 
 
 After the battle of Borodino and the occupation of Moscow 
 by the enemy and its destruction by fire, the most important 
 episode of the war of 1812, according to the historians, is the 
 movement of the Russian army from the Riazan road toward 
 the camp of Tarutino by way of the Kaluga road, the so- 
 called flank movement beyond Krasnaya Fakhra. 
 
 Historians ascribe the glory of this stroke of genius to 
 various individuals, and do not agree upon any one to whom 
 it belongs. Foreign historians, even the French historians, 
 in speaking of this " flank movement," recognize the genius 
 of the Russian generals. 
 
 But why military writers and everybody else suppose that 
 this flank movement was the perspicacious invention of any 
 single person, which thus saved Russia and overthrew Napoleon, 
 is something hard to understand. 
 
 In the first place it is hard to understand in what consists 
 the perspicacity and genius displayed by this movement, for 
 it does not require a great intellectual effort to see that the 
 best position for an army when not enduring attacks is where 
 there is the greatest abundance of supplies. And any one, 
 even a dull boy of thirteen, might suppose that in 1812 the 
 most advantageous position for the Russian army after the 
 retreat from Moscow was on the road to Kaluga. Thus it is 
 impossible in the first place to understand by what arguments 
 historians persuade themselves that they see perspicacity in 
 this manoeuvre. 
 
 In the second place it is still more difficult to understand 
 exactly how historians attribute the salvation of the Russians 
 and the destruction of the French to this manoeuvre ; for if 
 this " flank movement " had been carried out under other con- 
 ditions, preceding, accompanying, or following, it might have 
 brought about the destruction of the Russian army and the 
 salvation of the French. Even though the situation of the. 
 Russian army began to improve from the time that this move- 
 ment was effectuated, still it does not follow that this move- 
 ment was the cause of it. 
 
 This flank movement not only might not have brought 
 any advantage, but might even have been fatal to the Russian 
 army had there not been a coincidence of other conditions.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 71 
 
 What would have happened if Moscow had not been burned ? 
 If Murat had not lost sight of the Russians ? If Napoleon 
 had not remained inactive ? If at Krasnaya Fakhra the 
 Russian army had followed the advice of Beuigsen and Bar- 
 clay, and given battle ? 
 
 What would have happened if the French had attacked the 
 Russians when they were on the march beyond Fakhra ? 
 
 What would have happened if Napoleon, after approaching 
 Tarutino, had attacked the Russians with even a tenth part 
 of the energy with which he had attacked at Smolensk ? 
 
 What would have happened if the French had marched 
 toward Petersburg ? 
 
 In any one of these suppositions, the flank movement, instead 
 of being the salvation of Russia, might have been a disaster. 
 
 In the third place, most incomprehensible of all it is that 
 those who make a study of history are unwilling to see that 
 it is impossible to attribute the flank movement to any par- 
 ticular person, that no one could ever have foreseen it, that this 
 manoeuvre, like the retreat to Fill, never presented itself to 
 anybody in its totality, but, step by step, event by event, 
 moment by moment, it came about as the result of an infinite 
 number of most heterogeneous conditions, and it appeared 
 clearly in its totality only when it had been consummated and 
 was an accomplished fact. 
 
 At the council of war held at Fili among the Russian gen- 
 erals the predominant opinion was for retreat by the most 
 direct and obvious route, the Nizhni-Novgorod road. This 
 is proved by the fact that the majority of votes at the council 
 were thrown in favor of this plan, and above all by the con- 
 versation that occurred after the council between the com- 
 mander-in-chief and Lanskoi, who was in charge of the 
 commissary department. 
 
 Lanskoi informed the commander-in-chief that the army 
 stores were concentrated principally along the Oka in the 
 provinces of Tula and Kazan, and that in case of retreat 
 upon Nizhni, the army would be separated from its stores by 
 the great river Oka, which, during the first stages of winter, 
 it would be impossible to cross with supplies. 
 
 This was the first indication of the necessity for renouncing 
 the plan of a direct retreat to Nizhni, which at first had seemed 
 the most natural. 
 
 The army kept farther to the south, on the road to Riazan, 
 so as to be nearer its base of supplies. 
 
 Afterwards the inactivity of the French, who seemed even to
 
 72 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 have lost sight of the Russian army, the work of protecting 
 the arsenal at Tula, and above all the advantage of proximity 
 to its supplies, compelled the Russian army to move still 
 farther to the south along the Tula road. 
 
 When at length Pakhi'a had been passed by this bold move- 
 ment along the Tula road, the chiefs of the Russian army 
 thought of halting at Podolsk, and there was no idea at all of 
 taking up a position at Tarutino ; but an infinite number of 
 circumstances the re-appearance of the French army, which 
 before had lost the Russians out of sight, and plans of battle, 
 and above all the abundance of stores at Kaluga compelled 
 our army still more to swerve to the southward, and, taking a 
 route right through the midst of its abundance, to cross over 
 from the Tula road to the Kaluga road and approach Tarutino. 
 
 Just as it is impossible to answer the question when Moscow 
 was abandoned, so it is impossible to tell when and by whom 
 it was decided to go to Tarutino. 
 
 Only when the troops had already reached Tarutino, by 
 reason of an infinite number of differentiated efforts, then 
 men began to persuade themselves that this had been their 
 wish and their long predetermination. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE celebrated flank movement consisted simply in this : 
 The Russian army, which had been retreating straight back 
 as the invaders pushed forward, turned aside from the straight 
 direction when they saw the French no longer pursuing, and 
 naturally took the direction in which they were attracted 
 by an abundance of supplies. 
 
 If there had not been men of genius at the head of the 
 Russian army, if it had been merely an army without generals, 
 it could have done nothing else than return to Moscow, de- 
 scribing a semicircle in that direction where there were more 
 provisions and where the country was richer. 
 
 The change of route from the Nizhni road toward the 
 Riazan, Tula, and Kaluga roads was so natural that the 
 foragers of the Russian army took that very direction, and 
 that very direction was the one in which Kutuzof was ordered 
 from Petersburg to conduct his army. 
 
 At Tarutino, Kutuzof received almost a reproach from the 
 sovereign because he had lor! his army in the direction of 
 Riazan, and he was ordered to t ke up the very position relative
 
 , WAR AND PEACE. 73 
 
 to Kaluga, which he was already occupying at the time when 
 he received the letter from the sovereign. 
 
 The Russian army, like a ball which had been rolling in the 
 direction of the blow given it all through the campaign and 
 especially at the battle of Borodino, assumed its natural posi- 
 tion of stable equilibrium, as soon as the force of the blows 
 diminished and no new ones were communicated. 
 
 Kutuzof's merit lay not in what is called the genius of 
 strategical manoeuvres, but simply in the fact that he was the 
 only one who understood the meaning of what was taking 
 place about him. 
 
 He alone understood what the inactivity of the French army 
 signified, he alone persisted in declaring that the battle 
 of Borodino was a victory for the Russians. He alone the 
 very man who, it would seem, from his position as commander- 
 in-chief, ought to have been disposed to favor objective meas- 
 ures used all his power to restrain the Russian army from 
 undertaking useless battles. 
 
 The Beast wounded at Borodino lay where it had been 
 left by the escaping huntsman ; but whether it was alive, 
 or whether it still had strength left, or whether it was hiding 
 itself, the huntsman knew not. 
 
 Suddenly was heard this wild beast's cry. 
 
 The cry of this wounded beast, the French army, the 
 betrayal of its destruction, was the sending of Lauriston to 
 Kutuzof's camp with a request for peace. 
 
 Napoleon, with his conviction that whatever it occurred to 
 him to do was as right as right could be, wrote to Kutuzof the 
 first words that entered his mind, and entirely lacking in 
 sense. 
 
 "Prince Kutuzof," he wrote, "I send you one of my general aides 
 to discuss with you on various matters of interest. I wish your high- 
 ness to repose confidence in what he will say, especially when he ex- 
 presses the sentiments of esteem and respect which I have long felt for 
 you personally. This letter having no other purpose, I pray God, prince, 
 that he have you in His holy and beneficent care. 
 Moscow, Oct. 30, 1812. 
 
 igned, NAPOLEON." * 
 
 * "Monsieur le Prince Eoutouzov! fenvoie pres de vous unde mes aides de 
 camp ge'neraux pour vous entretenir de plusieurs objets inte'ressants. Je 
 desire que votre Altesse ajoute foi a ce qu'il lui dira, surtout lorsqu'il 
 exprimera les sentiments d'estime et de particuliere consideration que fai 
 depuis longtemps pour sa personne. Cette lettre n'e'tant a autre fin, je prie 
 Dieu, Monsieur Prince Koutouzov, qu'il vous ait en Sa sainte et 'digne 
 garde. 
 
 Moscou, le 30 Octobre, 1812. 
 
 Signt, NAPOLEON."
 
 74 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 " I should be cursed by posterity if I were regarded as the 
 first to move toward any compromise. Such is the spirit of 
 our people" * replied Kutuzof, and he continued to put forth 
 all his energies to keep his troops from an attack. 
 
 During the month spent by the French army in the pillage 
 of Moscow, and by the Russian army in tranquil recuperation 
 at Tarutino, a change had taken place in the relative strength 
 of the two armies, their spirit and effective, the result of 
 which redounded to the advantage of the Russians. 
 
 Although the condition of the French army and its effective 
 were unknown to the Russians, yet as soon as the relative po- 
 sition was changed, the inevitability of an attack was shown 
 by a multitude of symptoms. 
 
 These symptoms were the sending of Lauriston and the 
 abundance of provisions at Tarutino, and the reports coming 
 in from all sides of the inactivity, lack of order, of the French, 
 and the filling-up of our regiments with recruits, and the fine 
 weather, and the long rest ' accorded to the Russian soldiers, 
 and the general impatience caused among the troops by the 
 long rest, and their desire to finish, the work for which they 
 had been brought together, and the curiosity about what was 
 going on in the French army, which had lost them out 
 of sight so long, and the audacity with which now the Rus- 
 sian outposts skirmished around the French stationed at Taru- 
 tino, and the news of easy victories over the French won by 
 Russian muzhiks and "partisans," and the jealousy aroused 
 by this, and the desire of vengeance kindled in every man's 
 soul from the moment that the French occupied Moscow, and, 
 above all, the indefinite but genuine consciousness that filled 
 the heart of every soldier that the relative positions were re- 
 versed, and the superiority was on our side. 
 
 The material relations were changed, and the attack was be- 
 coming inevitable. And instantly, just as the chime of bells 
 in the clock begin to strike and to play when the hand has 
 accomplished its full circuit of the hour, so in the higher 
 circles, by the correspondingly essential correlation of forces, 
 the increased motion was effectuated, the whizzing of wheels 
 and the playing of the chimes. 
 
 * "Je serais maudit par la posterity si Von me regardait comme le premier 
 moteur d'un accommodement quelconque. Tel est I'esprit actuel de ma nation."
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 75 
 
 CHAPTEE III. 
 
 THE Eussian arm/ was directed by Kutuzof and his staff, 
 and by the sovereign, who was at Petersburg. 
 
 Even before news of the abandonment of Moscow had 
 reached Petersburg, a circumstantial plan of the whole war 
 had been drawn up and sent to Kutuzof for his guidance. 
 Although the plan was made with the presupposition that 
 Moscow was still in our hands, it was approved by Kutuzof's 
 staff and accepted as the basis of action. 
 
 Kutuzof merely wrote that plans made at a distance were 
 always hard to carry out. And then further instructions, 
 meant to solve the difficulties that might arise, were sent, 
 and individuals charged to watch his movement and to send 
 back reports. 
 
 Moreover, at this time great changes were made in the staff 
 of the Eussian army. They had to fill the. places of Bagra- 
 tion, who had been killed, and of Barclay, who, considering 
 himself insulted, had resigned. 
 
 They debated with perfect seriousness what would be best : 
 to put A in the place of B, and B in the place of D, or, 
 on the contrary, to put D in the place of A, and so on ; as 
 though anything else than the pleasure given to A and B 
 could depend on this. 
 
 In the army staff, owing to the animosity between Kutuzof 
 and Benigsen, his chief of staff, and the presence of the sov- 
 ereign's inspectors, and these changes, there arose a much more 
 than usually complicated play of party intrigues ; by all pos- 
 sible plans and combinations A was undermining the authority 
 of B, and D that of C, and so on. 
 
 In all these operations the object of their intrigues was for 
 the most part the war which all these men thought they were 
 conducting, but all the while the war was going on independ- 
 ently of them in its own destined way, that is, never con- 
 forming to the schemes of these men, but resulting from the 
 real relations of masses. All these schemes, crossing and 
 conflicting, merely represented in the higher spheres the faith- 
 ful reflection of what had to be accomplished. 
 
 On October 14, the sovereign wrote the following letter, 
 which was . received by Kutuzof after the battle of Taru' 
 tino :
 
 V6 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 Prince Mikhail Ilarionovitch ! 
 
 Since September 14, Moscow has been in the hands of the enemy. 
 Your latest reports are dated October 2; and in all this time not only 
 nothing has been done in the way of a demonstration against the enemy 
 and to deliver the first capital, but according to your last reports you 
 have been retreating again. Serpukhof is already occupied by a detach- 
 ment of the enemy,' and Tula, with its famous arsenal so indispensable 
 to the army, is in peril. 
 
 From General Winzengerode's report, I see that a body of the enemy, 
 of ten thousand men, is moving along the Petersburg road. Another of 
 several thousand men is marching upon Dmitrovo. A third is advancing 
 on the road to Vladimir. A fourth, of considerable size, is between 
 Kuza and MozhaYsk. Napoleon himself, on the 7th, was at Moscow. 
 
 Since, according to all this information, the enemy has scattered his 
 forces in strong detachments, since Napoleon himself is still at Moscow 
 with his Guard, is it possible that the strength of the enemy before you 
 has been too great to prevent you from taking the offensive ? 
 
 One might assume, on the contrary, with certainty that he would pur- 
 sue you with detachments, or at least by an army corps far weaker than 
 the army which you command. 
 
 It seems as if, profiting by these circumstances, you might with ad- 
 vantage have attacked an enemy weaker than yourself, and exterminated 
 him, or, at least, by obliging him to retire, have regained a great part of 
 the province now occupied by the enemy, and at the same time have 
 averted the peril of .Tula and our other cities of the interior. 
 
 On your responsibility it will rest if the enemy send a considerable 
 body of troops to Petersburg to threaten this capital, which is almost 
 destitute of troops; for, with the army confided to you, if you act with 
 firmness and celerity, you have all the means needed to avert this new 
 misfortune. 
 
 Bear in mind that you are still bound to answer before an insulted 
 country for the loss of Moscow ! 
 
 You have already had proof of my readiness to reward you. This 
 good will shall not grow less, but I and Russia have a right to demand 
 from you all the zeal, fortitude, and success that your intellect, your 
 military talents, and the gallantry of the troops under your command, 
 assure us. 
 
 But while this letter, which shows how the state of things 
 was regarded in Petersburg, was on its way, Kutuzof could 
 no longer restrain the army which he commanded from taking 
 the offensive, and the battle had already been fought. 
 
 On October 14, a Cossack, Shapovalof, while on patrol duty, 
 killed one hare and shot at another. In pursuing the wounded 
 hare, Shapovalof struck into the forest at some distance and 
 stumbled upon the left flank of Murat's army, which was en- 
 camped without outposts. 
 
 The Cossack laughingly told his comrades how he had 
 almost fallen into the hands of the French. A cornet who 
 heard this tale told it to his commander. 
 
 The Cossack was sent for and questioned. The Cossack 
 chiefs wished to profit by this chance to get horses j but one
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 77 
 
 of them, who was acquainted at headquarters, told a staff 
 general what had occurred. 
 
 Latterly, the relations of the army staff had been strained 
 to the last degree. Yermolof, several days before, had gone to 
 Benigsen and implored him to use all his influence with the 
 commander-in-chief in favor of assuming the offensive. 
 
 " If I did not know you," replied Benigsen, " I should think 
 that you did riot wish what you were asking for. I have only 
 to advise anything and his serene highness will do exactly 
 the contrary." 
 
 The news brought in by the Cossacks being confirmed by 
 scouts sent out, it became evident that the time was ripe for 
 action. 
 
 The strained cord broke, and the clock whizzed and the 
 chimes began to play. Notwithstanding all his supposed 
 power, his intellect, his experience, and his knowledge of men, 
 Kutuzof taking into consideration Benigsen' s report sent 
 directly to the sovereign, and the one desire expressed by all 
 of his generals, and the sovereign's supposed wishes, and the 
 information brought by the Cossacks could no longer restrain 
 a movement that was inevitable, and gave the order for some- 
 thing that he regarded as useless and harmful, consented to 
 an accomplished fact ! 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 BENIGSEN'S note and the report of the Cossacks about the 
 uncovered left flank of the French were only the last symp- 
 toms that it was absolutely inevitable to give the order for 
 the attack, and the attack was ordered for October 17. 
 
 On the morning of the sixteenth Kutuzof signed the order 
 for the disposition of the troops. Toll read it to Yermolof, 
 proposing to him to take charge of the further arrangements. 
 
 " Very good, very good, but I can't possibly attend to it 
 now," said Yermolof, and left the room. 
 
 The plan of attack drawn up by Toll was very admirable. 
 Just as for the battle of Austerlitz it had been laid down in 
 the " disposition : " die erste Kolonne marschirt this way and 
 that way, die zweite Kolonne marschirt this way and that way, 
 so here also, only not in German, it was prescribed where the 
 first column and the second column should march. 
 
 AM all these columns were to unite at a designated time and 
 at a designated place, and annihilate the enemy. Everything
 
 78 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 was beautifully foreseen and provided for as in all " disposi 
 tions," and as in all " dispositions " not a single column was 
 in its place at the right time. 
 
 When the proper number of copies had been made of the 
 order, an officer was summoned and sent to Yermolof, to give 
 him the papers that he might do the business. 
 
 A young cavalry officer, Kutuzof's orderly, delighted with 
 the important commission, hastened to Yermolof's lodgings. 
 
 "He is out," replied Yermolof's servant. 
 
 The cavalry officer went to the lodgings of the general in 
 whose company Yermolof was frequently found. 
 
 "No, and the general is also out." 
 
 The cavalry officer, mounting his horse, went to still 
 another. 
 
 "No, gone out." 
 
 " Hope I sha'n't be held accountable for the delay. What 
 a nuisance ! " said the officer to himself. He rode entirely 
 around the camp. One man declared that Yermolof had been 
 seen driving off somewhere with some other generals ; another 
 said that he was probably at home again. 
 
 The officer, without even taking time to eat his dinner, 
 searched till six o'clock. Yermolof was nowhere to be found, 
 and no one knew where he was. The officer took a hasty 
 supper at a comrade's, and started off once more, this time 
 in search of Miloradovitch, who was with the advance guard. 
 
 Miloradovitch also was not at home, but there he was told 
 that Miloradovitch was at a ball given by General Kikin, and 
 that Yermolof was probably there also. 
 
 " And where is that ? " 
 
 " Over yonder at Yetchkino," said a Cossack officer, indicat- 
 ing the estate of a landed proprietor at some distance. 
 
 " But how is that ? It's beyond the lines ! " 
 
 " Two regiments of ours were sent up to the lines, and 
 they're having a spree there this evening ;. that's just the mis- 
 chief of it ! Two bands, three choirs of regimental singers." 
 
 The officer crossed the lines to Yetchkino. While still a 
 long way off, as he rode toward the mansion, he heard the 
 jovial, reckless sounds of the soldiers' choragic song. 
 
 " Vo-obluziakh, vo-obluziakh ! " rang the meaningless 
 words of the song, mingled with whistling and the sounds 
 of the torban, * occasionally drowned out by the roar of 
 voices. 
 
 These jolly sounds made the officer's heart beat faster, but 
 * A kind of musical instrument.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 79 
 
 at the same time he was terribly alarmed lest he should be 
 blamed for having been so long in delivering the weighty 
 message which had been intrusted to him. 
 
 It was already nine o'clock in the evening. He dismounted 
 and climbed the steps of the great mansion, which had been 
 preserved intact, though it was situated between the French 
 and the Russians. Servants were flying about in the dining- 
 room and the anteroom with wines and refreshments. The 
 singers stood under the windows. 
 
 The officer was shown in, and he suddenly caught sight of 
 all the most distinguished generals of the army gathered 
 together, and in their number he recognized the tall, well- 
 known figure of Yermolof. All the generals wore their uni- 
 form-coats unbuttoned ; their faces were flushed and full of 
 excitement, and they were laughing noisily as they stood 
 round in a semicircle. In the middle of the room a hand- 
 some, short general with a red face was skilfully and vigo- 
 rously dancing the triepakd. 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! ha ! bravo ! a'i da ! Nikolai Ivanovitch ! ha ! 
 ha ! ha ! " 
 
 The officer felt that to come in at such a moment with an 
 important order he should be doubly in the wrong, and he 
 wanted to wait ; but one of the generals caught sight of him, 
 and, understanding why he had come, called Yermolof's atten- 
 tion to him. Yermolof, with a frowning face, advanced to the 
 officer, and, after listening to his story, took from him the 
 paper, without saying a word. 
 
 " Perhaps you think that it was a mere accident that he 
 had gone off ? " said a staff comrade to the cavalry officer, in 
 reference to Yermolof. 
 
 " 'Twas a joke ! it was all cut and dried. It was to play it 
 on Konovnitsuin. See what a stew there'll be to-morrow ! " 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 ON the following day, Kutuzof was awakened early in the 
 morning, prayed to God, dressed, and, with the disagreeable 
 consciousness that he was obliged to direct an engagement 
 of which he did not approve, took his seat in his calash, and 
 from Letashevka, five versts behind Tarutino, drove to the 
 place where the attacking columns were to rendezvous. As 
 he was driven along he kept dozing and awakening again, all
 
 80 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 the time listening if he could hear the sounds of firing at the 
 right, and if the battle had begun. 
 
 But as yet all was silent. A damp and gloomy autumn morn- 
 ing was only just beginning to dawn. On reaching Tarutino, 
 he noticed some cavalrymen who were leading their horses to 
 water beyond the road along which the calash was driven. 
 Kutuzof looked at these cavalrymen, stopped the calash, and 
 asked to what regiment they belonged. These cavalrymen 
 belonged to the column which should have long before been 
 far forward in ambush. 
 
 " A mistake, perhaps," thought the old commander-in-chief. 
 
 But when he had driven a little farther, Kutuzof saw some 
 infantry regiments with stacked arms, the soldiers in their 
 drawers, cooking their kasha and getting firewood. 
 
 An officer was summoned. The officer reported that no 
 orders had been received about any attack. 
 
 " How could it " Kutuzof began, but he instantly checked 
 himself, and ordered the senior officer to be brought to him. 
 
 He got out of his calash, and walked back and forth, with 
 sunken head, drawing long sighs 'as he silently waited. When 
 Eichen, an officer of the general staff, who had been sent for, 
 appeared, Kutuzof grew livid with rage, not because this 
 officer was to blame for the blunder, but because he was a 
 convenient scapegoat for his wrath. Trembling and panting, 
 the old man, who was falling into that state of fury which 
 sometimes would cause him to roll on the ground in his 
 paroxysm, attacked Eichen, threatening him with his fists, 
 screaming, and loading him with the grossest abuse. Another 
 officer who happened to be present, Captain Brozin, though in 
 no respect to blame, came in also for his share. 
 
 " These wretched dogs ! Let 'em be shot ! Scoundrels ! " 
 he hoarsely screamed, gesticulating and reeling. He suffered 
 physical pain. He, the commander-in-chief, "his highness," 
 who, as every one believed, held more power than any one in 
 Russia had ever before possessed, how came he, he, to be 
 placed in such a position to be made the laughing-stock of 
 the whole army! 
 
 " Was it all in vain that I tried so hard to pray for to-day, 
 all in vain that I passed a sleepless night and planned and 
 planned ? " he asked himself. " When I was a mere little 
 chit of an officer,* no one would have dared to turn me into 
 ridicule so but now ? " 
 
 He suffered physical pain, as though from corporal punish- 
 * Malchishka-ofitser.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 81 
 
 ment, and he could not help expressing it in cries of pain and 
 fury : but soon his strength began to fail him, and he took his 
 seat in his calash, looking around with the consciousness 
 that he had said much that was unseemly, and silently rode 
 back. 
 
 His fury was spent, and returned no more ; and, feebly 
 blinking his eyes, Kutuzof listened to Benigsen, Konovnitsuin, 
 and Toll, Yermolof kept out of sight for a day or two, and 
 their excuses and words of justification, and their urgent 
 representations that the movement which had so miscarried 
 should be postponed till the following day. And Kutuzof 
 was obliged to consent. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 ON the following evening, the troops rendezvoused in the 
 designated places, and moved during the night. 
 
 It was an autumn night, with dark purple clouds, but no 
 rain. The ground was moist, but there was no mud, and 
 troops proceeded noiselessly; the only sound was the occa- 
 sional dull clanking of the artillery. The soldiers were strin- 
 gently forbidden to talk above a whisper, to smoke their pipes, 
 to strike a light ; even the horses refrained from neighing. 
 The mysteriousness of the enterprise enhanced the fascination, 
 of it. The men marched blithely. Several of the columns 
 halted, stacked their arms, and threw themselves down on 
 the cold ground, supposing that they had reached their des- 
 tination ; others^; the majority marched the whole night, 
 and came to a place that was obviously not their destination. 
 
 Count Orlof-Denisof with his Cossacks the smallest de- 
 tachment of all the others was the only one who reached 
 the right place and at the right time. This detachment was 
 halted at the very skirt of the forest, on the narrow footpath 
 that led between the villages of Stromilova and Dmitrovskoye. 
 
 Before dawn, Count Orlof, who had fallen asleep, was aroused. 
 A deserter from the French camp had been brought in. This 
 was a Polish non-commissioned officer from Poniatowsky's 
 corps. This non-commissioned officer explained in Polish 
 that he had deserted because he had been insulted in the 
 French service, that he ought long before to have been pro- 
 moted to be an officer, that he was the bravest of them all, 
 and therefore he had given them up, and was anxious to have 
 his revenge on them. He declared that Murat was spending 
 VOL. 4. 6.
 
 82 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 the night only a verst from there, and that if they would give 
 him an escort of a hundred men he would take him alive. 
 
 Count Orlof-Denisof consulted with his comrades. The 
 proposal was too attractive to be refused. All offered to go ; 
 all advised to make the attempt. After many discussions and 
 calculations, Major-General Grekof, with two regiments of Cos- 
 sacks, decided to go with the non-commissioned officer. 
 
 "Now mark my word," said Count Orlof-Denisof to the 
 Pole, as he dismissed him ; " in case you have lied, I will 
 have you hanged like a dog ; but if you have told the truth 
 a hundred ducats ! " 
 
 The non-commissioned officer with a resolute face made no 
 reply to these words, leaped into the saddle, and rode off with 
 Grekof, who had swiftly mustered his men. 
 
 They vanished in the forest. 
 
 Count Orlof, pinched by the coolness of the morning, which 
 was now beginning to break, excited and made anxious by the 
 responsibility which he had incurred in letting Grekof go, 
 went out a little from the forest and began to reconnoitre the 
 enemy's camp, which could be seen now dimly in the light of 
 the dawn and the dying watch-fires. 
 
 At Count Orlof's right, on an open declivity, our columns 
 were to show themselves. Count Orlof glanced in that direc- 
 tion ; but, although they would have been visible for a long 
 distance, these columns were not in sight. But in the French 
 camp, it seemed to Count Orlof-Denisof, who also put great 
 confidence in what his clear-sighted adjutant said, there were 
 signs of life. 
 
 " Akh ! too late ! " said Count Orlof, as he gazed at the camp. 
 
 Just as often happens when a man in whom we have 
 reposed confidence is no longer under our eyes, it suddenly 
 seemed to him clear and beyond question that the Polish non- 
 commissioned officer was a traitor, that he had deceived them, 
 and the whole attack was going to be spoiled by the absence 
 of the two regiments which this man had led off no one knew 
 where. " How could they possibly seize the commander-in- 
 chief from among such a mass of troops!" "Of course he 
 lied, that scoundrel ! " exclaimed the count. 
 
 " We can call them back," said one of the suite, who, exactly 
 like Count Orlof-Denisof, felt a distrust in the enemy on see- 
 ing the camp. 
 
 " Ha ? So ? What do you think ? Shall we let them go 
 on, or not ? " 
 
 " Do you order them called back ? "
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 83 
 
 "Yes, call them back, call them back," cried Count Orlof, 
 coming to a sudden decision, and looking at his watch. " It 
 would be too late ; it's quite light. 7 ' 
 
 And the adjutant galloped off through the forest after 
 Grekof. When Grekof returned, Count Orlof-Denisof, excited 
 both by the failure of this enterprise and by his disappoint- 
 ment at the non-arrival of the infantry columns, which had 
 not even yet showed up, and by the proximity of the enemy 
 all the men of his division experienced the same thing de- 
 cided to attack. 
 
 He gave the whispered command : " To horse ! " 
 
 They fell into their places. They crossed themselves. 
 "S Bogom! Away!" 
 
 " Hurra-a-a-a-ah ! " rang through the forest, and the sotnias 
 or Cossack companies, one after another, as though poured out 
 of a sack, flew, with lances poised, across the brook against the 
 camp. 
 
 One desperate, startled yell from the first Frenchman who 
 saw the Cossacks, and all in the camp, suddenly awakened 
 from their dreams, fled undressed in all directions, abandoning 
 their artillery, their muskets, and their horses. 
 
 If the Cossacks had followed the French without heeding 
 what was back of them and around them, they would have 
 captured Murat and his whole staff. This was what the offi- 
 cers wanted. But it was an impossibility to make the Cos- 
 sacks stir when once they had begun to occupy themselves 
 with the booty and their prisoners. No one would heed the 
 word of command. 
 
 Fifteen hundred prisoners were captured, thirty-eight can- 
 nons, flags, and what was more important than all for the 
 Cossacks horses, saddles, blankets, and various articles. 
 They must needs oversee all this, secure the prisoners and 
 the cannon, divide the spoils, shout, and even quarrel among 
 themselves : with all this the Cossacks were busying them- 
 selves. 
 
 The French, finding that they were no longer pursued, came 
 to their senses, formed their lines, and began to fire. Orlof- 
 Denisof was all the time expecting the infantry columns, and 
 refrained from further offensive action. 
 
 Meantime, according to the "disposition" by which die erste 
 Kolonne marschirt, and so on, the infantry forces of the belated 
 columns, commanded by Benigsen and led by Toll, had set out 
 according to orders, but, as always happens, had come out some- 
 where, but not at the place where they ought to have been.
 
 84 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 As it always happens, the men who had started out blithely 
 began to straggle. Tokens of dissatisfaction were shown ; 
 there was the consciousness that a blunder had been made ; 
 they started back in another direction. 
 
 Adjutants and generals were galloping about and shouting, 
 scolding, and quarrelling, and declaring that they were wrong, 
 and that they were too late, and trying to find some one to 
 reprimand, and so on, and finally they all waved their hands, 
 and marched on simply for the purpose of going somewhere. 
 
 " Come, let us go somewhere ! " 
 
 And in fact they went somewhere, but some of them went 
 in the wrong direction, and those who went in the right direc- 
 tion arrived so late that they did no good in coming, but sim- 
 ply became targets for musket-shots ! 
 
 Toll, who in this battle played the part that Weirother 
 played at Austerlitz, diligently galloped from place to place, 
 and everywhere found everything at loose ends. For in- 
 stance, just before it was quite daylight, he found Bagovut's 
 corps in the woods, though this corps should have been with 
 Orlof-Denisof long before. Exasperated and excited by the 
 failure of the movement, and supposing that some one must 
 be to blame for this, Toll dashed up to the corps commander 
 and began sternly berating him, declaring that he ought to be 
 shot for this. 
 
 Bagovut (an old general, gallant but placid), who was also 
 exasperated by all these delays, this confusion, and by contra- 
 dictory orders, fell into a fury, much to the surprise of every 
 one, for it was contrary to his nature, and said disagreeable 
 things to Toll : 
 
 " I will not be lectured by any one ! I and my men can die 
 as well, as bravely, as others ! " said he, and he moved forward 
 with only one division. 
 
 When he reached the field, swept by the French fire, the 
 gallant and excited Bagovut, not stopping to consider whether 
 (at such a time and with only one division) his participation 
 in the action would be advantageous or not, marched straight 
 ahead and led his troops under the fire. Peril, shot, and shell 
 were the very things that he required in his angry mood. 
 Almost the first thing a bullet killed him ; succeeding bullets 
 killed many of his men. And this division remained for 
 some time needlessly under fire.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 85 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 MEANTIME, at the front another column should have been 
 attacking the French, but Kutuzof was present with this col- 
 umn. He knew perfectly well that nothing but confusion 
 would result from this battle, which was undertaken against 
 his will, and he held back his troops as much as he could. 
 He did not stir. 
 
 Kutuzof rode silently on his gray cob, indolently replying 
 to those who proposed to attack, 
 
 " All of you are very ready to say the word attack, but don't 
 you see that we can't make complicated manoeuvres ? " said 
 he to Miloradovitch, who asked permission to move forward. 
 
 " You weren't smart enough this morning to take Murat : 
 you were quite too late ; now there is nothing to be done," he 
 replied to another. 
 
 When the report was brought to Kutuzof that there were 
 now two battalions of Poles back of the French, where before, 
 according to the report of the Cossacks, there had been no 
 troops, he gave Yermolof a side glance. He had not spoken 
 to him since the day before. 
 
 " This is the way they ask to make attacks ; all sorts of 
 plans are proposed, and when you come to it, nothing is 
 ready, and the enemy, warned, take their measures." 
 
 Yermolof screwed up his eyes and slightly smiled as he 
 overheard those words. He understood that the storm had 
 passed, and that Kutuzof would content himself with this 
 innuendo. " He is entertaining himself at my expense," said 
 Yermolof in a low tone, touching Rayevsky's knee. 
 
 Shortly after this, Yermolof approached Kutuzof, and re- 
 spectfully made his report : 
 
 " It is not too late yet, your highness : the enemy have not 
 moved. If you will only give the order to attack ! If you- 
 don't, the guards will not have smelt gunpowder ! " 
 
 Kutuzof made no reply ; but when he was informed that 
 Murat's troops were in retreat, he ordered the attack, but at 
 every hundred paces he halted for three-quarters of an hour. 
 
 The whole battle was summed up in what Orlof-Denisof's 
 Cossacks did : the rest of the troops simply lost several hun- 
 dred men absolutely uselessly. 
 
 As a consequence of this battle, Kutuzof received a diamond 
 order, Benigsen, also, some diamonds and a hundred thousand
 
 86 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 rubles ; the others, according to their ranks, also received 
 many agreeable tokens, and after this battle some further 
 changes were made in the staff. 
 
 " That is the way it always goes witJi us everything at 
 cross-purposes," said the Russian officers and generals, after 
 the battle of Tarutino, just exactly as is said at the present 
 day, giving to understand that there is some stupid person 
 responsible for this blundering way, whereas we should have 
 done it in quite another way. 
 
 But the men who talk that way either know not what they 
 are talking about, or purposely deceive themselves. 
 
 Any battle Tarutino, Borodino, Austerlitz is fought in 
 a different way from what those who planned for it suppose 
 it will be. That is the essential condition. 
 
 An infinite number of uncontrollable forces for never is 
 a man more uncontrollable than in a battle, where it is a 
 matter of life or death and an infinite number of these 
 independent forces influence the direction of the battle, and 
 this direction can never be foreseen, and will never be gov- 
 erned by the direction of any one force whatever. 
 
 If many forces act in different directions upon any particu- 
 lar body at the same time, then the direction in which this 
 body will move cannot be that of any one of the forces ; but 
 it will always take a middle direction which is a combina- 
 tion of these forces which in physics is called the diagonal 
 of the parallelogram of forces. 
 
 If we find in the writings of the historians, and especially 
 of the French historians, that they make wars and battles con- 
 form to any prescribed plan, then the only conclusion which 
 we can draw from this is that their descriptions are not to be 
 relied upon. 
 
 The battle of Tarutino evidently failed of attaining the 
 object which Toll had in mind, to lead the troops into the 
 battle in proper order according to the " disposition ; " or 
 the object which Count Orlof may have had in mind, to take 
 Murat prisoner ; or that which Benigsen and many others 
 may have had, of destroying the whole corps at a single 
 blow ; or the object of the officer who wished to fall in the 
 battle and distinguish himself, or that of the Cossack who 
 was desirous of getting more booty than he got, and so on. 
 
 But if the object of the battle was what actually resulted, 
 and which, at that time, was the chief desire of all the Rus- 
 sians, the driving of the French from Russia and the 
 destruction of their army, then it is perfectly clear that the
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 87 
 
 battle of Tarutino, precisely in consequence of its absurdity, 
 was the very thing that was necessary at that period of the 
 campaign. 
 
 It is hard, nay, it is impossible, to imagine anything more 
 favorable as the outcome of that battle than what actually 
 resulted from it. With the very slightest effort, in spite of 
 the most extraordinary confusion, with the most insignificant 
 loss, the most important results of the whole campaign were 
 attained; a change from retreat to advance was made, the 
 weakness of the French was manifested, and that impulse was 
 communicated to the Napoleonic army which alone was needed 
 to make them begin their retreat. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 NAPOLEON enters Moscow after the brilliant victory de la 
 Moskowa ; there can be no doubt that it is a victory, since 
 the French remain masters of the field of battle ! 
 
 The Russians retreat and give up their capital. Moscow, 
 stored with provisions, arms, ammunition, and infinite riches, 
 falls into the hands of Napoleon. 
 
 The Russian army, twice as weak as the French, during a 
 whole month makes not a single effort to assume the offensive. 
 
 Napoleon's situation was most brilliant. Whether, with 
 doubly superior forces, he fell upon the remains of the Rus- 
 sian army and exterminated it ; or whether he offered advan- 
 tageous terms of peace, or, in case his offer were rejected, 
 should make a threatening movement upon Petersburg, or 
 even, in case of non-success, he should return to Smolensk, or 
 to Vilno, or whether he should remain in Moscow in a word, 
 whether he should retain the excellent position which the 
 French army held, it would seem that no extraordinary genius 
 was demanded. 
 
 To do this was necessary only to take the simplest and 
 easiest way: not to allow the army to pillage, to prepare 
 winter clothing (there would have been enough in Moscow for 
 the whole army), and to make systematic collection of pro- 
 visions, which, according to the French historians, were abun- 
 dant enough to supply the French troops for half a year. 
 
 Napoleon, this genius of geniuses, who had, as historians as- 
 sure us, the power to control his army, did nothing of the 
 sort. 
 
 He not only did nothing of the sort, but on the contrary he
 
 88 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 used his power to select out of all possible measures open to 
 him the one that was most stupid and the most disastrous. 
 
 Of all that Napoleon might have done, to winter at Mos- 
 cow, to go to Petersburg, to move upon Nizhni-Novgorod, to 
 return by a more northerly or southerly route, following 
 Kutuzof 's example, what could be imagined more stupid or 
 more disastrous than what Napoleon actually did ? Which was 
 this : 
 
 To remain in Moscow till October, allowing his soldiers to 
 pillage the city ; and then, after deliberating whether or not 
 to leave a garrison behind him, to leave Moscow, to approach 
 Kutuzof, not to give battle, to move to the right as far as 
 Malo-Yaroslavetz again without seeking an opportunity of 
 making a route of his own, and, instead of taking the course 
 followed by Kutuzof, to retreat toward Mozhaisk along the 
 devastated Smolensk highway. A plan more absurd than 
 this, more pernicious to the army, could not be imagined, as is 
 fully proved by the results. 
 
 Let the ablest masters of strategy, granting that Napoleon's 
 design was to destroy his army, conceive any other plan 
 which would so infallibly and so independently of any action 
 on the part of the Russian army have so completely destroyed 
 the French army as what Napoleon did. 
 
 Napoleon, with all his genius, did this. But to say that 
 Napoleon destroyed his army because he wished to destroy it, 
 or because he was very stupid, would be just as false as to say 
 that Napoleon led his troops to Moscow because he wished to 
 do so and because he was a man of great intelligence and 
 genius. 
 
 In both cases, his personal action, which was of no more 
 consequence than the personal action of any soldier, only 
 coincided with the laws by which phenomena take place. 
 
 It is absolutely false, simply because the consequences did 
 not justify Napoleon's action, for historians to say that his 
 powers grew weaker at Moscow. 
 
 He employed all his intellect and all his power to do the 
 best thing possible for himself and his army, just as he had 
 always done before, and as he did afterwards in 1813. Napo- 
 leon's activity at this time was no less amazing than it was in 
 Egypt, in Italy, in Austria, and in Prussia. 
 
 We know not sufficiently well the real state of activity of 
 Napoleon's genius in Egypt, where forty centuries looked 
 down upon his greatness, for the reason that all his great ex- 
 ploits there were described exclusively by the French.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 89 
 
 We cannot rate at its proper value his genius in Austria and 
 in Prussia, for with regard to his activity there we must draw 
 our information from French and German sources ; but the 
 surrender of army corps without striking a blow, and of forts 
 without a siege, co.ulcl /not fail to incline the Germans to re- 
 gard his genius as the only explanation of the victorious cam- 
 paign which he carried on in Germany. 
 
 But, glory to God, we Russians have no reason for acknowl- 
 edging the genius of Napoleon in order to hide our shame. 
 We paid for the right to look at facts simply as they are, and 
 this right we will not yield ! 
 
 Napoleon's activity at Moscow was as astonishing and full 
 of genius as it was everywhere else. From the time that he 
 entered Moscow until he left it, order upon order and plan 
 upon plan emanated from him. The absence of the inhabit- 
 ants and of deputations, even the burning of the city, dis- 
 turbed him not. He forgot not the welfare of his army, or 
 the activity of the enemy, or the good of the people of Russia, 
 or the administration of affairs at Paris, or diplomatic com- 
 binations concerning the possible conditions of peace. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 IN relation to military matters, Napoleon, immediately on 
 entering Moscow, gives strict orders to General Sebastiani to 
 watch the movements of the Russian army ; sends troops in 
 various directions, and orders Murat to pursue Kutuzof. Then 
 he proceeds diligently to fortify the Kreml. Then he traces 
 upon the whole map of Russia a brilliant plan for the rest of 
 the campaign. 
 
 In relation to diplomatic matters Napoleon sends for the 
 robbed and despoiled Captain Yakovlef, who had not suc- 
 ceeded in getting away from Moscow, and gives him a detailed 
 exposition of all his political views, and of his magnanimity, 
 and having written a letter to the Emperor Alexander, in which 
 he counts it his duty to inform his friend and brother that 
 Rostopchin has behaved very badly at Moscow, he sends Cap- 
 tain Yakovlef with it to Petersburg. Having, in the same 
 way, expressed in detail his views and his magnanimity be- 
 fore Tutolmin, he sends this little old man also to Petersburg 
 to enter into negotiations. 
 
 In relation to judicial affairs, Napoleon, immediately after 
 the conflagrations, gives orders that the guilty shall be found
 
 90 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 and executed ; and, to punish the malefactor Eostopchin, 
 orders his houses to be set on fire. 
 
 In relation to administrative affairs, Napoleon grants a con- 
 stitution to Moscow, organizes the municipal government, and 
 published the following : 
 
 INHABITANTS OF MOSCOW ! 
 
 Your miseries are great, but His Majesty the Emperor and King desires 
 to put an end to them. 
 
 Terrible examples have taught you how he punishes disobedience and 
 crime. Severe measures have been taken to put an end to disorder and 
 to restore general security. 
 
 A paternal administration, composed of men from among yourselves, 
 will constitute your municipality, or city government. This will care for 
 you, for your needs, for your interests. 
 
 The members thereof will be distinguished by a red scarf, which they 
 will wear over the shoulder, while the mayor* will wear, in addition to the 
 scarf, a white belt. 
 
 But when not on duty the members will wear simply a red band 
 around the left arm. 
 
 The municipal police is established upon its former organization, and, 
 thanks to its vigilance, the best of order already exists. 
 
 The government has named two commissioners-general or politse'i- 
 meisters, and twenty commissioners or tchdstnui pristafs assigned to dif- 
 ferent portions of the city. You will recognize them by the white band 
 worn around the left arm. 
 
 A number of churches of different denominations are open, and divine 
 service is there celebrated without hindrance. 
 
 Your fellow-citizens are daily returning to their dwellings, and orders 
 have been given that they shall find the aid and protection due to their 
 misfortune. 
 
 Such are the means which the government is using to restore order and 
 mitigate your position ; but to attain this end, you must unite your efforts 
 with theirs, you must forget, if possible, the misfortunes that you have 
 endured, you must cherish the hope of a less cruel destiny, must be con- 
 vinced that an inevitable and infamous death awaits all those who make 
 any assault upon your persons or the property that remains to you, and 
 you must not doubt that they will be guarded, for such is the will of the 
 greatest and most just of all monarchs. 
 
 Soldiers and citizens, of whatever nation you may be ! re-establish 
 public confidence, that source of happiness in every state, live like 
 brethren, mutually aid and protect one another, unite to oppose all crimi- 
 nal manifestations, obey the military and municipal authorities, and soon 
 your tears will cease to flow. 
 
 In relation to the provisioning of the army, Napoleon gave 
 orders for the troops to take turns in foraging cl la ma- 
 raude through the city to procure food, that thus the army 
 might be secured for the future. 
 
 In relation to religion, Napoleon ordered that the popes 
 * Grddskii golovd, head of the city.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. . 91 
 
 should be brought back ramener les popes and worship be 
 re-established in the churches. 
 
 In relation to trade and the provisioning of the army, the 
 following was posted everywhere : 
 
 PROCLAMATION. 
 
 You, peaceable inhabitants of Moscow, artisans and workmen whom 
 misfortunes have driven from tLis city, and you, dispersed farmers, who 
 through unfounded terror remain concealed in the fields, listen ! 
 
 Peace reigns in this capital, and order is re-established within it. 
 Your compatriots are boldly leaving their retreats, finding that they are 
 respected. 
 
 All violence shown to them or their property is immediately punished. 
 
 H. M. the Emperor and King protects them, and considers none among 
 you his enemies except those who disobey his orders. 
 
 He desires to put an end to your misfortunes, and restore you to your 
 homes and families. 
 
 Respond to his benevolent intentions, and come to us without fear. 
 
 Inhabitants ! 
 
 Return with confidence to your dwellings ; you will soon find means of 
 satisfying your wants. 
 
 Mechanics and laborious artisans! 
 
 Come back to your trades: houses, shops, watchmen await you, and 
 for your labor you will receive the wage which is your due ! 
 
 And you, finally, peasants, come forth from the forests, where you 
 have been hiding in fear; return boldly to your cottages, with the firm 
 assurance that you will find protection. 
 
 Grain shops have been established in the city, where the peasants may 
 bring all their surplus provisions and the products of the soil. 
 
 The government has taken the following measures to assure the free 
 sale of these products : 
 
 1. From this date, peasants, farmers, and the inhabitants of the 
 suburbs of Moscow, may without danger bring their products, whatever 
 they may be, into town, to the two markets established for the purpose 
 in Mokhovaya Street, and in the Okhotnui Riad. 
 
 2. These products will be purchased of them at such prices as may be 
 agreed upon between seller and buyer; but if the seller cannot obtain the 
 just price demanded, he is free to take his goods back to his village, and 
 no one under any pretext shall prevent him from doing so. 
 
 3. Every Sunday and Wednesday are legalized as "chief market 
 days;" therefore sufficient numbers of soldiers will be placed, Tuesdays 
 and Saturdays, in the principal thoroughfares at such a distance from the 
 city as to protect the provision trains. 
 
 4. Similar measures will be taken to expedite the return of the 
 peasants to their villages with their horses and teams. 
 
 5. Measures will be taken immediately to re-establish the ordinary 
 markets. 
 
 Inhabitants of the city and the villages, and you workmen and arti- 
 sans, to whatever nation you may belong! 
 
 We urge you to follow the paternal wishes of H. M. the Emperor and 
 King, and co-operate with him for the general welfare. 
 
 Bring to his feet respect and confidence, and hesitate not to unite 
 with us.
 
 92 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 To keep up the spirits of the troops and the people, reviews 
 were constantly held and decorations distributed. The em- 
 peror rode through the streets on horseback and consoled the 
 inhabitants, and, in spite of all his devotion to state matters, 
 he visited the theatres established by his orders. 
 
 In relation to charity, that best virtue of crowned heads, 
 Napoleon also did all that could be expected of him. 
 
 He ordered the words Maison de ma mere to be inscribed 
 upon the buildings devoted to charity, by this act uniting the 
 sentiment of a loving son with the grand virtue of a monarch. 
 
 He visited the Foundling Asylum,* and, allowing his white 
 hands to be mouthed by the orphans saved by him, he con- 
 versed graciously with Tutolmin. 
 
 Then, according to Thiers's eloquent narrative, he ordered 
 his troops to be paid in counterfeit Russian money which he 
 had manufactured! 
 
 " Exalting the employment of these means by an act worthy 
 of him and of the French army, he commanded to give aid to 
 those who had suffered from the fires. But as provisions were 
 too precious to furnish to men of a foreign land, and, for the 
 most part, enemies, Napoleon found it better to give them 
 money, and let them procure provisions outside, and he ordered 
 paper rubles to be distributed among them." f 
 
 In relation to the discipline of the army, he constantly 
 issued orders threatening severe punishments for all infrac- 
 tions of the rules of the service, and to stop pillaging. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 BUT, strangely enough, all these arrangements, measures, 
 and plans, which were in no respect inferior to those which he 
 had taken under similar circumstances, did not touch the 
 essence of the matter, but, like the hands of a clock discon- 
 nected with the mechanism behind the dial, moved at random 
 and aimlessly, having nothing to do with the wheels. 
 
 As for military matters, the plan for the campaign, of 
 which Thiers says, " Napoleon's genius never imagined any- 
 
 * Vospitdtelmii Dom. 
 
 t " Relevant Vemploi de ces moyens par un acte dlqne de lui et de I'armee 
 fran$aise, il fit distribuer des^secours aux incendies. Mais les vivres etant trop 
 precieux pour etre donnes a des etranyers, la plupart ennemis, Napoleon 
 tiima mieux leurfournir de V argent a fin qu'ils se four nis sent au deJi,ors, et il 
 ieur fit distribuer des roubles papiers." THIERS, " HMoire du consulat et d$ 
 I'empire." Tom. xiv
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 93 
 
 thing more profound, more skilful, or more admirable," * and 
 which, in his argument with M. Fain, he proves was con- 
 ceived, not on the fourth of October, but on the fifteenth of 
 that month, this plan, full of genius as it was, was not and 
 could not have beenjjarried out, for it had no basis whatever 
 in reality. 
 
 The fortifying of the Kreml, to accomplish which it was ne- 
 cessary to destroy the mosque, la mosquee, for so Napoleon 
 called the church of Vasili Blazhennui, was perfectly un- 
 necessary. 
 
 The placing of mines under the Kreml served only to carry 
 out the personal desire of the emperor, who wished, on leav- 
 ing Moscow, to see the Kreml blown up, in other words, that 
 the floor upon which the child has hurt himself might be 
 beaten. 
 
 The pursuit of the Russian army, which so engrossed Na- 
 poleon's attention, presented a most unheard-of phenomenon. 
 The French generals lost sight of the Russian army, number- 
 ing not less than sixty thousand men, and, according to Thiers, 
 it was only through Murat's ability his genius, one might 
 say that the French succeeded in discovering, like a needle 
 in a haystack, the Russian army, sixty thousand strong! 
 
 As for diplomatic matters, all Napoleon's declarations of 
 magnanimity and justice, made to Yakovlef and to Tutolmin, 
 who was chiefly solicitous about cloaks and teams, proved 
 without effect. 
 
 Alexander did not receive these ambassadors, and did not 
 reply to their letters. 
 
 As for justice, after the execution of the supposed incendi- 
 aries, the other half of Moscow was burned ! 
 
 As for administration, the establishment of a municipality 
 did not put an end to pillage, and was of service only to the 
 few individuals who took a part in this municipal government, 
 and, under the pretext of establishing order, plundered Mos- 
 cow, or saved their own property from pillage. 
 
 As for religion, the thing he had found so easy to arrange 
 in Egypt, by visiting a mosque, here in Moscow produced no 
 results. Two or three priests, found in Moscow, were com- 
 pelled to fulfil the emperor's wishes ; but a French soldier 
 struck one of them on the cheeks while conducting divine 
 service, and of the other the French official reported as fol- 
 lows : 
 
 *" que son ge*nie n'avait jamais rien imagine' de plus profond,de plut, 
 labile, et de plus admirable."
 
 94 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 11 The priest whom I found and commanded to begin once 
 more the saying of mass, cleaned and locked the church. That 
 same night they went again and smashed the doors and the 
 locks, tore the books in pieces, and committed other dis- 
 orders." * 
 
 As for the re-establishment of trade, the proclamation to 
 laborious artisans and to all peasants met with no response. 
 There were no laborious artisans ; while the peasants seized 
 the commissioners who ventured too far outside the city with 
 the proclamation, and killed them. 
 
 As for amusing the people and the troops by theatrical 
 representations, the result was a failure. The theatres that 
 were established in the Kreml and in PosniakoPs house were 
 immediately closed because the . actors and actresses were 
 robbed. 
 
 Even his charities did not bring forth the anticipated 
 results. Counterfeit and genuine assignats were so abundant 
 in Moscow that they were alike valueless. The French, who 
 were laden with booty, would have nothing but gold. Not only 
 the false assignats that Napoleon so kindly distributed among 
 the unfortunates were worthless, but the discount on silver 
 was greater than that on gold. 
 
 But the most striking proof of the inefficiency of all these 
 orders was Napoleon's effort to put an end to pillage and 
 restore discipline. 
 
 Here 'are some of the reports made by the commanding 
 officers : 
 
 " Pillage continues in the city in spite of the order that it shall be 
 stopped. Order is not yet re-established, and there is not a merchant 
 engaged in legitimate trade. Pedlers alone venture to sell anything, and 
 what they sell are objects pillaged." 
 
 " A part of my district continues to be pillaged by soldiers of the 
 Third Corps, who, not content with taking from the wretched citizens 
 hiding in the cellars the little that they have, are even brutal enough to 
 strike them with their swords, as I myself saw in many instances." t 
 
 " There is nothing new; the soldiers still continue theft and pillage, 
 i October 9.)" J 
 
 * " Le pretre que j'avais de~couvert et invite a recommencer a dire la messe 
 a nettoye et ferine Veylise. Cette mi it on est venu de nouveau enfoncer les 
 portes, casser les cade'nas, dechirer les livres et commettre d 1 (nitres de'sordres." 
 
 t " La partie de mon arrondissement continue a etre en proie au pillage des 
 soldats dn 3 Corps, qiti, non contents d'arracher aux malheureux refugies 
 dans des souterrains le pen qui leur reste, ont meme la ferocite de les blesser 
 a coups de sabre, commej'en ai vn plusieurs exemples.' 1 ' 
 
 t " Rien de nouveau outre que les soldats se permettent de voler et de piller. 
 (Le 9 Octobre.)"
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 95 
 
 "Theft and pillage continue. There is a band of robbers in our dis- 
 trict who ought to be put down by strong measures. (October 11.) " * 
 
 <; The emperor is greatly displeased that, in spite of his strict orders to 
 restrain pillage, detachments of marauders from the guard are continually 
 entering the Kreml. ... In the Old Guard disorder and pillage were 
 renewed yesterday, last night, and to-day more vigorously if possible than 
 ever. The emperor sees with sorrow that his chosen soldiers, detailed to 
 defend his own person, who ought to set an example of subordination, 
 carry disobedience so far as to despoil cellars and warehouses stocked 
 with stores for the army. Others have fallen so low that they have 
 refused to obey the watchmen and sentinels, and have reviled and beaten 
 them." 
 
 " The grand marshal of the palace complains bitterly," wrote the gov- 
 ernor, " that, notwithstanding his reiterated commands, the soldiers 
 continue to perform the offices of nature in all the courts, and even under 
 the windows of the emperor." t 
 
 This army, like a herd let out in disorder, and trampling 
 under its feet the fodder that would have saved it from star- 
 vation and death, was each day of its delay in Moscow nearer 
 its disorganization and its destruction. 
 
 But it did not stir. 
 
 It started in flight only when panic fear suddenly seized 
 it at the capture of the provision train on the Smolensk road, 
 and at the battle of Tarutino. 
 
 This same news of the battle of Tarutino, unexpectedly re- 
 ceived by Napoleon during a review, inspired in him, Thiers 
 tells us, the desire to punish the Russians, and he gave the 
 order to retreat, which the whole army demanded. 
 
 On leaving Moscow, the men of this army loaded themselves 
 with all the booty they could get together. 
 
 Napoleon also had his own tresor to take with him. Seeing 
 the vehicles encumbering the army, Napoleon, as Thiers says, 
 was horror-struck. But, with all his experience in war, he 
 did not order the superfluous wagons to be destroyed, as he 
 had ordered in regard to his marshals' when they were ap- 
 proaching Moscow. He glanced at the calashes and coaches 
 in which the soldiers were travelling, and said that it was 
 very good that these vehicles would be useful for carrying 
 provisions, the sick, and the wounded. 
 
 The situation of the whole army was like that of a wounded 
 animal feeling death to be near and not knowing what to do. 
 
 To study the artful manoeuvres and the purposes of Napo- 
 
 * " Le vol et le pillage contingent. II y a line bande de voleurs dans notre 
 district qu'il faut faire arreter par de fortes gardes. (Le 11 Octobre.)" 
 
 t " Le grand mare'chal du palais se plaint vivement que malyre' les defenses 
 reitere'es les soldats continuent a faire leurs besoins dans toutes les cpurs, et 
 nwmejusque sous lesfenefres, de rempereur.'-
 
 96 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 leon and his army, from the time he entered Moscow to the 
 destruction of this army, is like watching the convulsions and 
 the death struggles of an animal mortally wounded. Often 
 the wounded animal, hearing a noise, runs directly into the 
 hunter's fire, turns this way and that way, and hastens its 
 own end. 
 
 Thus acted Napoleon, under the pressure of his army. 
 
 The noise of the battle of Tarutino alarmed the beast, and 
 it threw itself forward directly into the fire, ran toward the 
 hunter, turned back again, and, like every wild beast, sud- 
 denly fied by the most dangerous, the most disadvantageous, 
 but the best known road its former trail. 
 
 Napoleon, whom we imagine to have been the director of 
 all these movements, just as the figure-head upon the prow of 
 a ship is supposed by the savage to be the power that moves 
 the ship, Napoleon, throughout the whole of his activity, 
 was like a child seated in a carriage clasping the straps that 
 hang on the inside, and imagining that he makes it go. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 ON the eighteenth of October, early in the morning, Pierre 
 stepped out of the balagan, or prison-hut, and then, turning 
 back, stood in the doorway, playing with the long-bodied, 
 bandy-legged, little pink puppy, which was gambolling around 
 him. 
 
 This puppy had made her home in the balagan, sleeping 
 next Karatayef ; but sometimes she made excursions out into 
 the city, from which she would always return again. She 
 had evidently never belonged to any one, and now no one was 
 her master, and she had no name. The French called her 
 Azor ; the wit of the company called her Femme-galka, or 
 Jenny Daw ; Karatayef and the others called her Serui or 
 Gray ; sometimes Vislui the Hanger-on. 
 
 The fact that she belonged to no one and had no name or breed 
 and no definite color seemed in no wise to trouble the little . 
 pink dog. She held her furry tail like a plume, boldly and 
 gallantly ; the crooked bow legs served her so well that often, 
 as though disdaining to use all four of them, she would lift 
 gracefully one of the hind-legs, and run with great agility and 
 adroitness on three. Everything that came along was for her 
 ail object of satisfaction. Now grunting with delight she
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 07 
 
 would roll on her back, now she would warm herself in the 
 sun with a thoughtful and significant expression, now she 
 would gambol and play with a chip or a straw. 
 
 Pierre's costume now consisted of a torn and dirty shirt, 
 the only remains of his former dress, soldiers' trousers, for 
 the sake of greater warmth tied with string around the ankles 
 by Karatayef s advice, a kaftan, and his peasant's cap. 
 
 Physically, during this time Pierre had greatly changed. 
 He no longer seemed portly, although he still retained that 
 appearance of rotundity and strength which in their nature 
 are hereditary. His beard and mustache had grown, and cov- 
 ered the lower part of his face. His long hair, all in a tangle 
 on his head and full of lice, fell in tangled locks from under 
 his cap. The expression of his eyes was firm, steadfast, calm, 
 and full of an alertness which had never before been charac- 
 teristic of him. His old-time indolence, manifested even in 
 his eyes, had now given place to an energetic spirit that was 
 ready for activity and resistance. 
 
 His feet were bare. 
 
 Pierre looked now at the field along which, that morning, 
 ;eams and mounted men were moving, now far off across the 
 river, now at the puppy which was pretending that she was 
 ;oing to bite him in real earnest, and now at his bare feet, 
 which, for the sport of the thing, he was placing in various 
 attitudes, wagging his dirty, thick toes. And every time that 
 le looked at his bare feet, a smile of lively satisfaction illu- 
 mined his face. The sight of those bare feet reminded him of 
 all that he had been through and had learned to understand in 
 ;hat time, and this recollection was agreeable to him. 
 
 The weather for several days had become mild and bright, 
 with light frosts in the morning the so-called Bdbye lieto 
 [ndian summer. 
 
 In the sun, the air felt warm ; and this warmth, together 
 with the invigorating freshness of the morning frosts, which 
 .eft its influence in the air, was very pleasant. Over every- 
 ;hing, objects remote and objects near at hand, lay that magi- 
 cal crystalline gleam which is seen only at this time of the 
 autumn. In the distance could be seen the Vorobyevui 
 Gorui the Sparrow Hills with a village, a church, and a 
 great white house. And the leafless trees and the sand and 
 the rocks and the roofs of the houses, the green belfry of the 
 church, and the angles of the distant white house, every- 
 thing stood out with unnatural distinctness, with all its deli' 
 cacy of outline, in the transparent atmosphere. 
 VOL. 4. 7.
 
 98 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 Near at hand were the well-known ruins of a noble mansion 
 half burned, occupied by the French, with its lilac bushes 
 still dark green, which had once adorned the park along by 
 the fence. And even this house, ruined and befouled, which 
 in gloomy weather would have been repulsive from its dis- 
 order, now, in the bright, immovable light, seemed like some- 
 thing tranquilly beautiful. 
 
 A French corporal, in undress uniform, in his night-cap, with 
 a short pipe between his teeth, came from behind the corner 
 of the balagan, and, tipping Pierre a friendly wink, joined 
 him. 
 
 "Quel soleil, hein! Monsieur Kirill " for that was what all 
 the French called Pierre, " on dirait le printemps you'd 
 think it was springtime." 
 
 And the corporal leaned up against the door-post and offered 
 Pierre his pipe, although Pierre always declined it just as 
 surely as he was always sure to offer it. 
 
 " Si Von marchait par un temps comme celui-la If we 
 should start in such weather as this " he began. 
 
 Pierre asked what the news was in regard to a retreat, and 
 the corporal told him that almost all the troops were begin- 
 ning to move, and that the order in regard to the prisoners 
 was to be issued that day. 
 
 In the balagan in which Pierre was confined, a soldier named 
 Sokolof was sick unto death, and Pierre told the corporal that 
 something ought to be done about this soldier. 
 
 The corporal replied that Pierre might be easy on that 
 score, that there were permanent and movable hospitals, and 
 that the sick would be cared for, and that the authorities had 
 provided for all emergencies. 
 
 " And besides, Monsieur Kirill, you have only to say a single 
 word to the captain, you know. Oh, he is a he never for- 
 gets anything ! Tell the captain when he makes his tour of 
 inspection, and he will do anything for you." 
 
 The captain of whom the corporal was speaking had often 
 talked with Pierre and showed him all manner of conde- 
 scension. 
 
 " ' Do you see, St. Thomas/ says he to me the other day, 
 1 Kirill is a man of education who speaks French ; he is a 
 Russian seigneur who has been unfortunate, but he's a man ! 
 And he knows what If he asks for anything,' says he, ' let 
 him tell me ; I couldn't refuse him. When one has been 
 studying, you see, you like education and the right kind of 
 people.' It's for your sake I tell you this, Monsieur Kirill.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 99 
 
 In that affair the other day, if it hadn't been for you, it might 
 have come out pretty bad ! " * 
 
 And after chatting a little while longer the corporal .went 
 off. 
 
 The "affair" which the corporal mentioned as having taken* 
 place a few days before was a squabble between the prisoners 
 and the French in which Pierre had taken it upon him to act 
 as peacemaker. 
 
 Several of the prisoners had been listening to the conversa- 
 tion between Pierre and the corporal, and they immediately 
 began to ask what had been said. While Pierre was telling 
 his comrades what the corporal had said about the retreat of 
 the French, a lean, sallow, and ragged French soldier made 
 bis appearance in the door of the balagan. With a quick, 
 timid gesture he addressed himself to Pierre, raising his fingers 
 to his forehead as a salute, and asked him if there were a 
 soldier in that balagan named Platoche, who had been given a 
 shirt to make. 
 
 The week before the French had received leather and linen, 
 and had distributed them among the Russian prisoners to 
 make boots and shirts. 
 
 "All ready, all ready, my dear," said Platon Karatayef, 
 coming forth with a carefully folded shirt. 
 
 Karatayef, owing to the warmth of the weather, and for 
 convenience of working, wore only his trousers and a torn 
 shirt as black as earth. His hair, after the fashion of master 
 workmen, was tied up with a bast string, and his round face 
 seemed rounder and more good-natured than ever. 
 
 " f Agreement's own brother to business.' I promised it 
 for Friday, and here it is ! " said Platon, smiling, and unfold- 
 ing the shirt which he had made. 
 
 The Frenchman glanced round uneasily, and, as though con- 
 quering a doubt, he quickly stripped off his uniform, and put 
 on the shirt. The Frenchman had no shirt on under his 
 uniform, but his bare, yellow, lean body was clad in nothing 
 but a long, greasy, silk brocade waistcoat. 
 
 * " Et puts, M, Kirill, vous n'avez qu'a dire un mot au capitaine, vous 
 savez. Oh! c'est un qui n'oublie jamais rien. Dites au capitaine quand 
 il fera sa tourne'e, il fera tout pour vous. 'Vois-tu, St. Thomas,' qu'il me 
 disait I'autre jour, 'Kiril c'est un homme qui a de I' instruction, qui parle 
 francais; c'est un seigneur russe, qui a eu des malheurs, mais c'est un homme. 
 'Et il s'y entend le s'il demande quelque chose, qu'il me dise, il n'y a pas 
 de refus. Quand on a fait ses etudes, voyez-vous, on aime I' instruction et les 
 gens comme ilfaut.' C'est pour vous que je dis cela, M. Kirill ! Dans Vaffaire 
 de I'autre jour si ce rittait grace a vous, ca auraitjini mal."
 
 100 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 The Frenchman was evidently afraid that the prisoners who 
 were staring at Ijim would make sport of him, and he hastily 
 thrust his head into the shirt. Not one of the prisoners said 
 a word. 
 
 ' " There, it was time," exclaimed Platon, pulling down the 
 shirt. The Frenchman, getting his head and arms through, 
 without lifting his eyes, inspected the fit of the shirt and 
 scrutinized the sewing. 
 
 " You see, my dear, this is not a tailor's shop, and I hadn't 
 suitable tools ; and the saying is, l You can't kill even a louse 
 without a tool,' " said Platon, with a round smile, and taking 
 evident delight in his handiwork. 
 
 " C'est bien, c'est bien, mercif "But you ought to have some 
 of the cloth left over," said the Frenchman. 
 
 " It will set on you better when you get it fitted to your 
 body," said Karatayef, continuing to delight in his production. 
 u It will suit you nicely and be very comfortable." 
 
 " Merci, merci, mon vieux, le reste," insisted the Frenchman, 
 smiling ; and, getting out an assignat, he gave it to Karatayef, 
 " Dials le reste" 
 
 Pierre saw that Platon had no wish to understand what the 
 Frenchman said, and, without interfering, he looked at them. 
 Karatayef thanked him for the money, and continued to 
 admire his work. The Frenchman was bound to have the 
 pieces that were left over, and begged Pierre to translate what 
 he said. 
 
 " What does he want of the pieces ? " asked Karatayef. 
 " They would come in handy as leg-wrappers. Well, then. God 
 go with him Bog s nimf" and Karatayef, his face suddenly 
 changing to an expression of deep depression, took out from 
 his breast a bundle of rags, and handed them to the French- 
 man without looking at him. " Ekh-ma ! " exclaimed Karata- 
 yef, and he started back into the hut. 
 
 The Frenchman looked at the cloth, deliberated a moment, 
 gave Pierre a questioning look, and, as though Pierre's look 
 said something to him, 
 
 " Platoche, dites done ! Platoche, Platoche ! " cried the 
 Frenchman, suddenly flushing, and speaking in a piping voice ! 
 " Gardez pour vous keep it ! " said he, giving him the rags, 
 and, turning on his heel, went off. 
 
 " Good-by," said Karatayef, nodding his head. " They say 
 they're heathens, but that one has a soul. It used to be a say- 
 ing in old times, ' Sweaty hand's lavish, dry hand close.' That 
 man was naked, but he gave all the same." Karatayef; thought-
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 101 
 
 fully smiling and looking at the rags, remained silent for 
 some time. 
 
 " But they'll come handy as leg-wrappers, my friend," said 
 he, and returned to /the balagan. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 FOUR weeks had passed since Pierre was made prisoner. 
 Although the French had proposed to transfer him from the 
 privates' balagaii to the officers', he preferred to remain in the 
 one where he had been placed on the first day. 
 
 In Moscow plundered and burned, Pierre experienced almost 
 the utmost privations which it is in the power of man to 
 endure ; but owing to his vigorous constitution and health, 
 a blessing which he had never realized till then, and espe- 
 cially owing to the fact that these privations had come on* him 
 so imperceptibly that it was impossible to say when they 
 began, he not only bore them easily but even cheerfully. 
 
 And it was at this very time that he began to feel that 
 calmness and self-satisfaction which he had before vainly 
 striven to attain. He had been long seeking in various direc- 
 tions for this composure and self-agreement, that quality 
 which had amazed him so in the soldiers at the battle of 
 Borodino : he had sought it in philanthropy, in Free-Masonry, 
 in the diversions of fashionable life, in wine, in the heroic 
 effort of self-sacrifice, in his romantic love for Natasha. He 
 had sought it in the path of thought, and all these efforts and 
 experiments had disappointed him. 
 
 And now without any effort or thought he had discovered 
 this calmness and self-contentment only by the horror of 
 death, by privations, and by what he had found in Karatayef. 
 
 Those terrible moments which he had passed through at the 
 time of the executions had, as it were, cleared forever from 
 his imagination and his recollection those anxious thoughts 
 and feelings which had formerly seemed to him of consequence. 
 He no longer thought about Russia, or the war, or politics, or 
 Napoleon. It was evident to him that all this concerned him 
 not, that he was not called upon, and therefore could not judge 
 about all this. 
 
 "No love is lost 
 'Twixt Russia and frost,' > * 
 
 * Rossil da 
 
 Soyuzu nietu. 
 
 A variant of the popular saw, Rusi i lietn Soyfau nitty,-**' Winter and 
 pummer have no alliance,"
 
 102 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 he would say, quoting one of Karatayef s proverbs, and these 
 words strangely calmed him. 
 
 His scheme of killing Napoleon seemed to him now incom- 
 prehensible and even absurd, and so also his calculations con- 
 cerning the cabalistic number and the Beast of the Apocalypse. 
 His indignation against his wife, and his anxiety that his 
 name should not be disgraced, seemed to him now not only 
 insignificant, but even ludicrous. What difference did it make 
 to him whether or not this woman led the life that best 
 pleased her, or where ? Whose business was it and what 
 difference did it make to him whether it were known or 
 not known to the French that their prisoner was Count 
 Bezukhoi. 
 
 He now frequently recalled his conversation with Prince 
 Andrei and fully agreed with him, except that he understood 
 Prince Andrei's words in a slightly different way. 
 
 Prince Andrei thought and declared that happiness is 
 merely negative, but he said this with a shade of bitterness 
 and irony. It seemed as if in saying this he had expressed 
 the corresponding thought, that all our aspirations for real, 
 positive happiness are given to us merely to torment us, with- 
 out ever being satisfied. 
 
 But Pierre, without any mental reservation, acknowledged 
 the correctness of this. The absence of pain, the gratifica- 
 tion of desires, and consequently the free choice of occupa- 
 tions, in other words, the manner of life, seemed now to 
 Pierre man's indubitable and highest happiness. 
 
 Here and now, for the first time, Pierre appreciated the 
 pleasure of eating when he was hungry, of drinking when he 
 was thirsty, of sleeping when he was sleepy, of warmth when 
 he was cold, of converse with his fellow-men when he felt 
 like talking and hearing a human voice. The gratification of 
 desires, good food, cleanliness, independence, now that he 
 was deprived of them all, seemed to Pierre perfect happiness ; 
 and the choice of occupation, that is life, now when this 
 choice was so limited, seemed to him such an easy matter 
 that he forgot that the superfluity of the comforts of life 
 destroyed all the happiness of gratifying the desires, while 
 great freedom in choice of occupations, that freedom which in 
 his case was given him by his culture, his wealth, his position 
 in society, that such freedom is exactly what makes a choice 
 of occupations hopelessly difficult, and destroys the very 
 desire and possibility of occupation. 
 
 All Pierre's thoughts of the future were directed toward
 
 WAR AND PEACE. .103 
 
 the time when he should be free. But nevertheless, after- 
 wards, and all his life long, Pierre thought and spoke with 
 enthusiasm of that month of imprisonment, of those strong 
 and pleasurable sensations which would never return again, 
 and above all of that utter spiritual peace, of that perfect 
 inward freedom, which he had experienced only at that time. 
 
 When on the first day of his imprisonment he arose early 
 in the morning and went out at daybreak from the balagan 
 and saw the cupolas, dim and dark at first, the crosses on the 
 Novo-Dievitchy monastery, saw the frosty dew on the dusty 
 grass, saw the tops of the Sparrow Hills, and the winding 
 woody banks of the river vanishing in the purple distance, 
 when he felt the contact of the fresh, cool air, and heard the 
 cawing of the daws flying from Moscow across the field, and 
 when afterwards suddenly flashed forth the light from the 
 east, and the disk of the sun arose solemnly above the cloud 
 and the cupolas and the crosses, and the dew and the dis- 
 tance and the river all were bathed in gladsome light, then 
 Pierre felt a new sense of joy and vital vigor such as he had 
 never before experienced. 
 
 And this feeling not only did not once leave him during all 
 the time of his imprisonment, but, on the contrary, it grew 
 more and more, according as the difficulties of his position 
 increased. 
 
 This feeling of readiness for anything, of moral elevation, 
 was still more enhanced in Pierre by that lofty recognition 
 which immediately on his incarceration in the balagan he 
 began to enjoy among his companions. 
 
 Pierre, by his knowledge of languages, by that respect 
 which was shown him by the French, by the simplicity with 
 which he gave anything that was asked of him, he received 
 three rubles a week, the same as the officers, by the strength 
 which he manifested before the soldiers by driving in the 
 pegs in the wall of the balagan, by the sweetness of disposi- 
 tion which he showed in his treatment of his companions, by 
 his power, which they could not understand, of sitting motion- 
 less, thinking, seemed to the soldiers a somewhat mysterious 
 and superior being. 
 
 Those very characteristics of his which had been, if not 
 injurious, at least a hinderance, in that society where he had 
 moved before, his strength, his scorn for the amenities of 
 life, his fits of abstraction, his simplicity, here, among these 
 people, gave him almost the position of a hero. And Pierre 
 felt that this view imposed responsibilities upon him.
 
 104 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE French armies started to retreat on the night of the 
 eighteenth of October. . Kitchens and balagans were dis- 
 mantled ; wagons were loaded, and the troops and trains set 
 forth. 
 
 At seven o'clock in the morning, in marching trim, in 
 shakos, with muskets, knapsacks, and huge bundles, they 
 stood in front of the balagans, and a lively interchange of 
 French talk, interspersed with oaths, rolled along the whole 
 line. 
 
 In the balagan all were ready, clothed, belted, shod, and 
 only awaiting the word of command to start. 
 
 The sick soldier Sokolof, pale and thin, with livid circles 
 under his eyes, was the only one unshod and unclad ; and he 
 lay in his place, and his eyes, bulging from his very leanness, 
 looked questioningly at his comrades, who paid no heed to 
 him or his low and regular groans. Evidently it was not so 
 much his sufferings he was ill with dysentery as it was 
 the fear and grief at being left alone that caused him to 
 groan. 
 
 Pierre, with his feet shod in slippers fabricated for him by 
 Karatayef out of remnants of goat-skin which a Frenchman 
 had brought him to make into inner soles for his boots, and 
 belted with a rope, came to the sick man and squatted down 
 beside him on his heels. 
 
 " Now, see here, Sokolof, they're not absolutely all going 
 away. They're going to have a hospital here. Maybe you'll 
 be better off than the rest of us," said Pierre. 
 
 " Oh, Lord, oh ! The death of me ! Oh, Lord ! " groaned 
 the soldier, louder than ever. 
 
 " There, I'll go directly and ask them," said Pierre, and, 
 getting up, he went to the door of the balagan. 
 
 Just as Pierre reached the door, the very corporal who, the 
 day before, had offered Pierre his pipe, appeared at the out- 
 side with two soldiers. The corporal and the soldiers also 
 were in marching trim, with knapsacks, and wearing shakos 
 with chin-straps on, which gave a new appearance to their 
 well-known faces. The corporal approached the door for the 
 purpose of locking it, according to the order of the authorities. 
 Before letting out the prisoners they had to call the roll. 
 
 " Corporal, what is to be done with the sick man ? "
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 105 
 
 Pierre began to say ; but at the instant that he said this, the 
 doubt arose in his mind whether this was the corporal whom 
 he had known, or an entirely different man : the corporal was 
 so unlike himself at that instant. Moreover, at the instant 
 that Pierre spoke, on two sides the rolling of drums was 
 suddenly heard. 
 
 The corporal scowled at Pierre's words, and, uttering a 
 meaningless oath, he clapped the door to. 
 
 In the balagan there was semi-darkness ; on two sides the 
 sharp rattle of the drums drowned the sick man's groans. 
 
 " Here it is ! here it is again ! " said Pierre to himself, 
 and an involuntary chill ran down his back. 
 
 In the changed face of the corporal, in the sounds of his 
 voice, in the exciting and deafening rattle of the drums, 
 Pierre recognized that mysterious, unsympathetic power 
 which compels men against their wills to murder their kind, 
 that power the working of which he had seen during the 
 executions. 
 
 To fear this power, to try to escape it, to address . with 
 petitions or with reproaches the men who served as its instru- 
 ments, was idle. 
 
 Pierfe now realized this. It was necessary to wait and 
 have patience. 
 
 Pierre did not go back to the sick man, or even look in his 
 direction. Silent, scowling, he stood at the door of the 
 balagan. 
 
 When the doors of the balagan were thrown open, and the 
 prisoners, crowding against each other, came flocking out, 
 Pierre threw himself in front of them and went to the very 
 captain who, according to the corporal's account, was ready to 
 do anything for him. 
 
 This captain was in marching trim, and from his cold face 
 looked forth that same " it " which Pierre had recognized in 
 the corporal's words and in the rattle of the drums. 
 
 " Filezj filez On with you ! " commanded the captain, 
 frowning sternly, as he looked at the prisoners crowding past 
 him. Pierre knew beforehand that his effort would be 
 wasted, but still he went up to him. 
 
 " Eh bien, yu'est-ce-qu'il y a? What do you want ? " asked 
 the officer coldly, scanning Pierre as though he did not recog- 
 nize him. 
 
 Pierre told him about the wounded. 
 
 " He can walk, the devil take him ! " replied the captain 
 "Filez, filez ! " he went on saying, not looking at Pierre.
 
 106 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 " No, but he is dying," began Pierre. 
 
 " Go to the ! " cried the captain, scowling wrathfully. 
 
 Dram-da-da-dain-dam-dam went the rattle of the drums. 
 And Pierre realized that this mysterious force was already in 
 full possession of these men, and that to say anything now 
 was useless. 
 
 The officers among the prisoners were separated from the 
 privates and ordered to go forward. The officers, including 
 Pierre, numbered thirty, the privates three hundred. 
 
 The officers who were taken out of the other prison-bala- 
 gans were otherwise and far better dressed than Pierre, and 
 they looked at him and his foot-gear with distrust and even 
 repulsion. 
 
 Not far from Pierre marched a stout major in a fine Kazan 
 khalat, belted with a towel, with a puffy, sallow, cross face, 
 who evidently enjoyed general distinction among his fellow- 
 prisoners. He kept one hand holding his tobacco-pouch in 
 his bosom ; in the other he clutched -his pipe. This major, 
 puffing and breathing hard, growled and scolded at every- 
 body because it seemed to him they were pushing him, and 
 were in a hurry, when there was no sense in being in a hurry, 
 and were wondering at everything when there was nothing to 
 wonder at. 
 
 Another officer, a little lean man, was chattering with 
 every one, expressing his suppositions as to where they were 
 to be taken now, and how far they would succeed in moving 
 that day. 
 
 A chinovnik, in felt boots and wearing the uniform of the 
 commissariat department, ran from one side to another and 
 gazed at the burned city, loudly communicating his specula- 
 tions in regard to the buildings burned, or whether it was 
 this or that part of Moscow where they were. 
 
 A third officer, of Polish origin, judging by his accent, 
 disputed with the commissariat chinovnik, arguing that he 
 was mistaken in his identification of the different parts of 
 Moscow. 
 
 " What are you disputing about ? " angrily asked the 
 major. " Whether Nikola or Vlas, 'tis all one ; can't you see 
 'tis all burnt, and that's the end of it? ... What are you 
 pushing so for ? isn't there room enough ? -" he exclaimed, 
 turning wrathfully on the one next to him, who did not even 
 touch him. 
 
 " A'i ! ai ! a'i ! what have they done ! " was heard on all 
 sides as the prisoners gazed at the ruins wrought by the 
 conflagration.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 107 
 
 " The ward across the river * and Zubovo and even in the 
 Kreml ! " 
 
 " Look ! half of the city's gone ! " 
 
 " Yes, and I told you that the ward across the river was 
 burnt, and there ! you see, it is so ! " 
 
 "Well, now you know it's burnt, and what's the use of 
 talking about it ? " grumbled the major. 
 
 As they passed through Khani6vuiki,t one of the few 
 unscathed quarters of Moscow, and went by a church, the 
 whole throng of prisoners suddenly swerved to one side, and 
 exclamations of horror and disgust were heard : 
 
 " Oh, the scoundrels ! " 
 
 " Aren't they heathens ? " 
 
 " Oh, it's a corpse, it's a corpse ! " 
 
 " They've smeared his face with something." 
 
 Pierre also moved toward the church, where the object 
 that had called forth the exclamations was, and he vaguely 
 discerned something leaning up against the walls of the 
 church. 
 
 From the words of his comrades who had better eyesight 
 than he, he made out that this object was a man's dead body, 
 placed in a standing posture by the fence, and with its face 
 smeared with lamp-black. 
 
 tl Marchez ! Sucre nom ! Filez / . . . trente mille diables ! " 
 shouted the soldiers of the guard ; and the French soldiers, 
 with fierce objurgations and abuse, applied their sabres to 
 drive on the throng of the prisoners, who had stopped to gaze 
 at the dead. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 ON the streets that crossed Khamovniki, the prisoners 
 marched along with their convoy and the wagons and teams 
 that belonged to the soldiers composing it and followed 
 behind them ; but when they reached a storehouse of provis- 
 ions, they found themselves in the midst of a tremendous 
 detachment of artillery, moving in close order, which had got 
 mixed up with a number of private conveyances. 
 
 On the Abridge itself a halt was called, and they all waited 
 for those in the van to move on. From the bridge the prison- 
 
 * The Zamoskvorietchye. 
 
 t The Weavers'. Count Tolstoi's present Moscow residence is in Kha 
 mdvniki.
 
 108 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 ers could see before them and behind them endless lines of 
 moving vehicles. 
 
 At the right, where the Kaluga road bends away past 
 Neskutchnui, stretched endless files of troops and trains, dis- 
 appearing in the. distance. These were the troops belonging 
 to Beauharnais's corps, which had left the city before. the others. 
 
 Behind, along the Naberezhnaya quai and across the Kamen- 
 nui Most or Stone Bridge, stretched the troops and trains of 
 Key. 
 
 Davoust's troops, in whose charge the prisoners were, had 
 crossed the Kruimsky Brod, or Crimean Ford Bridge, and 
 already some of the divisions were debouching into Kaluga 
 Street. But the teams stretched out so endlessly that the 
 last ones belonging to Beauharnais's division had not yet left 
 Moscow to enter Kaluga Street, while the head of Ney's 
 troops had already left Bolshaya Orduinka. 
 
 After the prisoners had crossed the Crimean Ford Bridge, 
 they moved on some little distance, and were halted, and then 
 moved on again, while from all sides equipages and men were 
 blocked together more and more. After marching more than 
 an hour, accomplishing those few hundred steps which sepa- 
 rated the bridge from Kaluga Street, and reaching the square 
 where Kaluga Street and the Trans-Moskva Streets meet, the 
 prisoners, closely squeezed into one group, were halted again 
 and kept standing for some hours at the crossway. 
 
 In every direction was heard the incessant roar of carriages 
 like the tumult of the sea, and trampling of feet and incessant 
 shouts and curses. Pierre stood crushed up against the wall 
 of a house that had been exposed to the flames, and listened 
 to this uproar, which blended in his imagination with the 
 rattle of the drum. 
 
 Several of the officers in the group of prisoners, in order to 
 get a better view, climbed up on the wall of the house next 
 which Pierre was standing. 
 
 "What crowds of people ! oh, what crowds.! " " They're 
 even riding on the guns ! See the furs ! " they exclaimed. 
 " Oh ! the carrion-eaters ! what thieves ! " " Look yonder, on 
 that telyega ! " " Do you see that, they've got an ikon, by 
 God ! " 
 
 " Those must be Germans." " And our muzhiks, by 
 God ! " 
 
 " Akh ! the scoundrels ! " " See how they're loaded down, 
 much as they can do to get along ! And there's one got a 
 drozhsky - they stole even that ! "
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 109 
 
 " See ! he's sitting on the trunks ! Ye saints ! " " There 
 they're having a fight." 
 
 " See ! he hit him in the snout, right in the snout ! " 
 
 " At this rate they won't get through till night ! " 
 
 " Look ! Just look ! Those must be Napoleon's ! See 
 what fine horses ! With monogram and crown ! " 
 
 "That was a fine house !" " See, he's dropped a bag and 
 didn't notice it ! " 
 
 " There ! they're fighting again ! " 
 
 " There's a woman with a baby ! Not so bad-looking 
 either ! " 
 
 " See ! There's no end to it. Russian wenches ! there's the 
 wenches for you, by God ! " 
 
 " They're having an easy time in that carriage there, hey ! " 
 
 Again the wave of general curiosity, just as had been the 
 case at the church at Khamovniki, drove all the prisoners into 
 the street ; and Pierre, thanks to his stature, could, over the 
 heads of the others, see what had so awakened the curiosity of 
 the prisoners : in three calashes, jammed in among some artil- 
 lery caissons, rode several women, sitting close together, 
 adorned with bright colors, painted, and shouting at the top of 
 their sharp voices. 
 
 From the moment that Pierre recognized the re-appearance 
 of that mysterious power, nothing seemed to him strange or 
 terrible ; neither the corpse smeared with lamp-black for a 
 joke, nor these women hastening no one knew where, nor the 
 conflagration that had destroyed Moscow. All that he now 
 saw produced scarcely any impression upon him as though 
 his soul, preparing for a hard struggle, refused to submit to 
 any impressions that might render it weaker. 
 
 The teams with the women drove past. Again behind them 
 stretched on telyegas, soldiers, baggage wagons, soldiers, 
 powder-trains, carriages, soldiers, caissons, soldiers, and here 
 and there women. 
 
 Pierre could not distinguish faces, but he could make out 
 the general movement of the masses. 
 
 All these people and these horses seemed to be driven forth 
 by some invisible force. All of them, during the course of the 
 hour that Pierre spent in watching them, came pouring forth 
 from different streets with one and the same wish, to get along 
 as rapidly as possible ; all of them were alike apt to interfere 
 with each other, to quarrel, even to come to blows. White 
 teeth were displayed, brows scowled, oaths and curses inter- 
 mingled, and all faces bore one and that same youthfully
 
 110 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 resolute and cruelly cold expression which, that morning, had 
 struck Pierre in the corporal's face at the sound of the 
 drum. 
 
 Some time before nightfall the chef of the convoy mustered 
 his command, and with shouts and disputes marched them in 
 amongst the teams, and the prisoners, guarded on every side, 
 debouched into the Kaluga road. 
 
 They proceeded very rapidly, without stopping to rest, and 
 only halted at sunset. The teams ran into each other, and the 
 men prepared for their night encampment. All seemed angry 
 and dissatisfied. It was long before the curses and shouts 
 and blows ceased on all sides. A private carriage, that had 
 been following the prisoners' guard, came up against one of the 
 wagons belonging to the same, and the pole ran into it. 
 Several soldiers ran up from various sides ; some struck the 
 heads of the horses that drew the private carriage, and tried 
 to turn them aside ; others squabbled among themselves, and 
 Pierre saw a German severely wounded in the head with a 
 short sabre. 
 
 It seemed as if all these people, now that they found them- 
 selves in the open country in the chill twilight of an autumn 
 evening, experienced one and the same feeling of disagreeable 
 re-action, which had come on after the haste and excitement 
 that had occupied them all during the march. They halted 
 all as though they realized that it was inevitable that they 
 should still move forward somewhere, and that in this marcli 
 there would be much that was stern and hard. 
 
 During this halt, the soldiers in charge of the prisoners 
 treated them far worse than they had during the march. At 
 this halt horse-flesh was for the first time served out to the 
 prisoners. 
 
 From officers down to humblest soldiers, all seemed alike to 
 feel, as it were, a personal sense of anger against each one of 
 the prisoners, all the more noticeable from the unexpected 
 change from their former friendliness. 
 
 This ill will grew more and more pronounced, when, at call- 
 ing the roll of the prisoners, it transpired that during the 
 bustle attendant upon leaving Moscow a Russian soldier, 
 feigning to be ill with colic, had escaped. 
 
 Pierre saw a Frenchman strike a Russian soldier for having 
 strayed away from the road too far ; and he heard the captain, 
 his friend, reprimand a non-commissioned officer for the 
 escape of the Russian soldier, and threaten him with court* 
 martial
 
 WAR AND PEACE. ill 
 
 At the corporal's excuse that the soldier was ill, and , could 
 not march, the officer replied that it was commanded to shoot 
 those who had to be left. 
 
 Pierre felt that that fateful power which had taken posses- 
 sion of him during the executions, and which had been in 
 abeyance during the time of his imprisonment, now once 
 more ruled his existence. 
 
 It was terrible to him ; but he felt that in proportion to the 
 efforts made by this fateful force to crush him, in his own 
 soul waxed and strengthened the force of life that was inde- 
 pendent of it. 
 
 Pierre made his supper of rye-meal porridge and horse-flesh, 
 and chatted with his comrades. 
 
 Neither Pierre nor any of his companions said a word of what 
 they had seen in Moscow, or about the cruelty of the French, 
 or about the order to have stragglers shot, which had been 
 explained to them : all of them were especially cheerful and 
 lively, as though to counteract the wretchedness of their posi- 
 tion. They called up their personal recollections, and the 
 comical incidents which they had seen during the march, and 
 avoided all mention of their actual position. 
 
 The sun had long ago set; the bright stars were every- 
 where glittering in the sky ; along the horizon spread the 
 ruddy glow of 'the rising full moon like the glare of a conflag- 
 ration, and soon the huge red globe hung swaying wonder- 
 fully in the grayish mists. It grew light. The evening was 
 over, but the night had not fairly begun. 
 
 Pierre left his new comrades, and, stepping among -the watch- 
 fires, started to cross to the other side of the road, where he 
 had been told the privates of the prisoner party were en- 
 camped. He wanted to have a talk with them. But a sen- 
 tinel halted him on the road and ordered him back. 
 
 Pierre returned, but not to the watch-fire, to his companions, 
 but to an unharnessed wagon where there was no one. Doub- 
 ling up his legs and dropping his head, he sat down on the cold 
 ground by the wagon-wheel, and remained there long motion- 
 less, thinking. 
 
 More than an hour passed in that way. No one disturbed 
 him. 
 
 Suddenly he burst out into a loud and burly peal of jovial 
 laughter, so loud that men gathered round from various direc- 
 tions in amazement, to see what caused this strange and soli- 
 tary fit of laughter. 
 
 *Ha! ha! ha!" roared Pierre, and he went on talking
 
 1J2 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 aloud to himself. "The soldier would not let me pass. I 
 was caught, I was shut up. They still keep me as their pris- 
 oner. Who am I ? I ? I ? my immortal soul ! Ha ! ha ! 
 ha ! " and he laughed until the tears ran down his cheeks. 
 
 Some one got up and came over to see what this strange, big 
 man found to laugh at all alone by himself. Pierre ceased to 
 laugh, got up, went off to some distance from the inquisitive 
 man, and glanced around him. 
 
 The huge, endless bivouac, which shortly before had been 
 noisy with the crackling of camp-fires and the voices of men, 
 was now silent the ruddy fires were dying down and paling. 
 High in the bright sky stood the full moon. Forest and field, 
 before invisible beyond the confines of the bivouac, could now 
 be seen stretching far away. And still farther beyond these 
 forests and fields the eye followed the bright, quivering, allur- 
 ing, infinite distance. 
 
 Pierre gazed up into the sky, into the depths of the march- 
 ing host of twinkling stars. 
 
 "And all that is mine, and all that is in me, and all that is 
 me" thought Pierre. "And they took all that and shut it in 
 a hut made of boards ! " 
 
 He smiled, and went back to his comrades, and lay down to 
 sleep. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 TOWARD the middle of October, a messenger came to 
 Kutuzof with still another letter from Napoleon, and a pro- 
 posal for peace. It was deceitfully dated from Moscow, since 
 at that time Napoleon was not far in advance of Kutuzof on 
 the old Kaluga highway. 
 
 Kutuzof replied to this letter exactly as he iiad replied to 
 the first one with which Lauriston had been sent : he declared 
 that there could be no question of peace. 
 
 Shortly after this, word was received from Dorokhof, who 
 was in command of a band of " partisans " operating at the 
 left of Tarutino, that the enemy had appeared in Fominskoye, 
 that these troops consisted of Broussier's division, and that 
 this division, being separated from the rest of the army, might 
 be easily destroyed. 
 
 Soldiers and officers again demanded offensive operations. 
 The staff generals, animated by their remembrance of the easy 
 victory at Tarutino, brought all their influence to bear OR 
 tQ grant Dorokhof s proposal,
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 113 
 
 Kutuzof considered it unnecessary to make any attack. A 
 middle course was adopted: a small detachment was sent to 
 Fominskoye, charged to attack Broussier. 
 
 By an odd coincidence, this operation most difficult and 
 most important, as it turned out, in its consequences was 
 intrusted to Dokhturof that same modest little Dokhturof 
 whom no one ever thought of describing for us as concocting 
 plans for engagements, flying at the head of regiments, scat- 
 tering crosses on the batteries, and so on ; who was considered 
 and counted irresolute and lacking in penetration, but never- 
 theless that same Dokhturof whom, during all the wars be- 
 tween the Eussians and the Frenc'h, from Austerlitz until 
 1813, we find always in command where there was anything 
 difficult to do. 
 
 At Austerlitz, he stays until the last on the dike of Augest, 
 re-forming the regiments, saving what he can, when all are 
 fleeing and perishing, and not one general is left in the rear. 
 
 Though ill with fever, he goes to Smolensk with twenty 
 thousand men to defend the city against the whole army of 
 Napoleon. At Smolensk, he had just caught a wink of sleep 
 at the Malakhof gates, during a paroxysm of his fever, when 
 he is awakened by the cannonade of the city, and Smolensk 
 holds out the whole day. 
 
 In the battle of Borodino, when Bagration is struck down, 
 and nine men in every ten from among the troops of our left 
 flank are killed, and all the force of the French artillery fire 
 is concentrated in, that direction, no one else but Dokhturof, 
 irresolute and lacking in penetration, is sent there, and Kutu- 
 zof makes haste to retrieve the blunder which he had made in 
 sending some one else there. And the little, mild Dokhturof 
 joes there, and Borodino becomes the brightest glory of the 
 Russian arms. And many heroes have been celebrated by us 
 in verse and prose, but of Dokhturof scarcely a word ! 
 
 Again, Dokhturof is sent to Foniinskoye and from there to 
 Malui Yaroslavetz, to the place where the last battle with the 
 French took place, and where evidently the destruction of the 
 French began ; and again many heroes and geniuses have been 
 celebrated by us at that period in the campaign, but of Dokh- 
 turof never a word, or almost nothing, or half-heartedly. This 
 silence concerning Dokhturof more palpably than aught else 
 proves his merit. 
 
 Naturally, for a man who understands not the working of a 
 machine, it seems, on first seeing it in motion, that the most 
 important part of it is the shaving which accidentally got intx? 
 voL.4. 8.
 
 114 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 it, and, while interfering with its movement, makes a buzzing 
 noise. The man, not knowing the virtues of the machine, can- 
 not comprehend that not this shaving vitiating and deranging 
 the works, but that little distributing cog-wheel which turns 
 noiselessly, is the most essential part of the machine. 
 
 On the twenty-second of October, the same day on which 
 Dokhturof traversed the half of the road toward Forninskoye, 
 and had halted in the village of Aristovo, preparing himself 
 accurately to carry out the orders that had been given him, 
 the whole French army, in its spasmodic motion moving down 
 as far as Murat's position, as though for the purpose of giving 
 battle, suddenly, without aiiy reason, swerved to the left to 
 the new Kaluga highway, and moved toward Foininskoye, 
 where shortly before only Broussier had been. 
 
 Dokhturof, at this time, had under his ' command, with the 
 exception of Dorokhof's men, only the two small divisions of 
 Figner and Seslavin. 
 
 On the afternoon of October twenty -third, Seslavin came to I 
 the commander at Aristovo with a French guardsman, who i 
 had been taken prisoner. The prisoner said that the troops ; 
 which had that day occupied Fominskoye consisted of the i 
 vanguard of the main army, that Napoleon was there, that i 
 the whole army had left Moscow on the seventeenth. 
 
 That same evening a domestic serf, who had come from i 
 Borovsko, declared that he had seen a tremendous host enter- i 
 ing the town. 
 
 The Cossacks of Dorokhof's division brought word that they < 
 had seen the French guard marching along the road to 
 Borovsko. 
 
 From all these rumors it was evident that at that place 
 where they expected to find a single division was now the 
 whole army of the French, which had marched out of Moscow 
 in an unexpected route along the old Kaluga highway. 
 
 Dokhturof was loath to make any demonstration, since it 
 was not now at all clear to him what it was his duty to do. 
 He had been commanded to attack Foininskoye. 
 
 But where before Broussier had been alone in Fominskoye, 
 now there was the whole French army. 
 
 Yermolof wanted to act on his own judgment, but Dokhturof 
 insisted that it was necessary to have orders from his serene 
 highness. It was determined to send a messenger back to 
 headquarters. 
 
 For this duty was chosen a highly intelligent officer, Bol- 
 khovitinof, who, in addition to the written report, was to give
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 115 
 
 a verbal report of the whole matter. At midnight Bolkhoviti- 
 nof, having received the envelope and the verbal message, 
 galloped off, accompanied by a Cossack, with extra horses, to 
 headquarters. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 
 
 IT was a dark, warm, autumn night. There had been a 
 steady rain for four days. After changing horses twice, and 
 riding thirty versts in an hour and a half over the muddy, 
 sticky road, Bolkhovitinof reached Letashevko at two o'clock 
 in the morning. Dismounting in front of an izba, on the 
 wattled fence of which was the sign, " GLAVNUI SHTAP," or 
 " Headquarters," and throwing the bridle to his Cossack, he 
 went into the dark entry. 
 
 " The general on duty, instantly ! Very important ! " he 
 exclaimed to some one, who had been snoring in the darkness 
 of the entry and started up. 
 
 " He< was very unwell last evening ; he hasn't slept for two 
 nights," whispered a denshchik's voice, apologetically. " Bet- 
 ter wake the captain first." 
 
 " Very important from General Dokhturof," said Bol- 
 khovitinof, entering the door which was held open for him. 
 The denshchik led the way, and tried to awaken some one. 
 
 " Your nobility ! your nobility ! A courier ! " 
 
 " What, what is it ? From whom ? " exclaimed some one's 
 sleepy voice. 
 
 " From Dokhturof and from Aleksei Petrovitch. Napoleon 
 is at Fominskoye," said Bolkhovitinof, not being able to make 
 out, by reason of the darkness, who it was that was question- 
 ing him, but judging by the sound of the voice that it was not 
 Konovnitsuin. 
 
 The man who had been aroused yawned and stretched him- 
 self. 
 
 " I don't like to wake him," said he, fumbling about for 
 something. " He's very sick. Maybe it's a rumor." 
 
 "Here is the despatch," said Bolkhovitinof. "I was 
 ordered to hand it instantly to the general on duty." 
 
 " Wait, I will strike a light. Where are you, you scamp, 
 always asleep ! " he cried, addressing the denshchik. 
 
 This was Shcherbmin, Konovnitsuin's adjutant. "I have 
 found it, I have found it," he added. 
 
 The denshchik kindled a light. Shcherbmin had been
 
 116 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 searching for the candlestick. " Akh ! the wretched busi- 
 ness ! " he cried, with disgust. 
 
 By the candle-light Bolkhovitinof saw Shcherbmiii's youth- 
 ful face, and in the opposite corner a man still sound asleep. 
 This was Konovnitsuin. 
 
 When the tinder flared up first with blue and then with 
 ruddy flame, Slicherbmin lit the tallow candle, from which the 
 cockroaches that had been feasting on it dropped to the 
 ground, and stared at the messenger. 
 
 Bolkhovitinof was all mud, and in wiping his face on his 
 sleeve he smeared it all over him. 
 
 " Who brought the news ? " asked Shcherbmin, taking the 
 envelope. 
 
 " The news is trustworthy," replied Bolkhovitinof. " The 
 prisoners and the Cossack and the scouts are all unanimous in 
 saying the same thing." 
 
 "We can't help it must wake him," said Shcherbmin, 
 getting up and going over to the man asleep in a nightcap, and 
 covered with a cloak. 
 
 " Piotr Petrovitch ! " he called. 
 
 Konovnitsuin did not stir. 
 
 " Headquarters ! " he cried, with a smile, knowing that that 
 would assuredly waken him. And, in point of fact, the head 
 in the nightcap was immediately lifted. In Konovnitsuin's 
 handsome, resolute face, with the cheeks inflamed with fever, 
 there remained for an instant the expression of the visions of 
 sleep, far enough removed from the reality ; but suddenly he 
 shivered ; his face assumed its ordinarily calm and resolute 
 expression. 
 
 " Well, then, what is it ? From whom ? " he asked, not 
 hastily, but without unnecessary delay, blinking his eyes at the 
 light. 
 
 On hearing the officer's report, Konovnitsuin broke the seal 
 and read the letters. He had hardly finished reading them 
 before he set his feet in woollen stockings down on the earth 
 floor, and began to put on his shoes. Then he took off his 
 cap, and, running the comb through the locks on his temples, 
 he put on his forage cap. 
 
 " Did you come quickly ? Let us go to his serene high- 
 ness." 
 
 Konovnitsuin immediately realized that this news was of 
 the greatest importance, and that it brooked no delay. He 
 did not take into consideration, or even ask himself, whether 
 it were good news or bad news. This did not interest him.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 117 
 
 He looked on the whole business of war not with his intellect 
 nor with his reason, but with something else. His soul had a 
 deep but unexpressed conviction that all would be well ; but 
 the confession or expression of this faith that was in him 
 seemed to him entirely unnecessary : he had only to do his 
 duty. And his duty he did, giving to it all his powers. 
 
 Piotr Petrovitch Konovnitsuin, just like Dokhturof, seem- 
 ingly out of mere formality, had his name inscribed on the list 
 of the so-called heroes of 1812, the Barclays, the Rayev- 
 skys, the Yermolofs, the Platofs, the Miloradovitches ; just 
 like Dokhturof, enjoyed the reputation of being a man of very 
 limited capacity and talent ; and again, like Dokhturof, 
 Konovnitsuin never made plans of battles, but he was always 
 found where the greatest difficulties were to be met. Ever 
 since his appointment as general on duty he had slept with an 
 open door, insisting that he should be awakened whenever a 
 courier should come ; in battle he was always under fire, so 
 that Kutuzof chided him for exposing himself recklessly, and 
 for that reason dreaded to send him into service ; and thus 
 again, like Dokhturof, he was one of these invisible springs 
 which, without fuss or racket, constitute the most essential 
 part of the machine. 
 
 On coming out from the izba into the damp, dark night, 
 Konovnitsuin scowled, partly because his headache had grown 
 worse, and partly from the disagreeable thought that occurred 
 to him, that now, at this news, would be aroused all that nest 
 of influential men connected with the staff, and especially Be- 
 nigsen, who since Tarutino had been at swords' points with 
 Kutuzof. How they would propose, discuss, give orders, in- 
 terfere ! And this presentiment was disagreeable to him, 
 although he knew that it was inevitable. 
 
 In point of fact, Toll, to whom he went to communicate this 
 news, immediately began to lay down his ideas for the benefit 
 of the general who shared his lodgings with him ; and Kono- 
 vnitsuin, after listening in silence until he was tired, reminded 
 him that they ought to go to his serene highness's. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 KUTUZOF, like all old people, slept little at night. In the 
 daytime he frequently dozed at unexpected times, but at night, 
 throwing himself, still dressed, down on his couch, he would 
 lie awake and think.
 
 118 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 Thus it was at this time. He was lying on his bed, leaning 
 his heavy, big, scarred head on his fat hand, and thinking, his 
 one eye staring out into the darkness. Since Benigsen, who 
 was in correspondence with the sovereign, and had more influ- 
 ence with the staff than any one else, had kept out of his way, 
 Kutuzof was more at ease in reference to his being urged again 
 to let the troops take part in useless offensive movements. The 
 lesson of the battle of Tarutino and of the day before it, ever 
 memorable to Kutuzof, must have its effect, he thought. 
 
 " They must understand that it can only be a losing game 
 with us to act on the offensive. Patience and Time, they are 
 my warrior-heroes," said Kutuzof to himself. 
 
 He knew that it was not best to pluck the apple while it 
 was green. It would fall of itself when it got ripe ; but if you 
 pluck it green, then it spoils the apple and the tree, and sets 
 your teeth on edge as well. 
 
 Like an experienced huntsman, he knew that the wild beast 
 was wounded, wounded as only the whole force of Eussia 
 could wound ; but whether the wound was mortal or not was as 
 yet an undecided question. 
 
 Now, by the sending of Lauriston and Berthemi, and by the 
 reports of the guerillas, Kutuzof was almost certain that the 
 wound was mortal. 
 
 But proofs were still requisite : it was necessary to wait. 
 
 " They want to rush forward and see how they have killed 
 him. Wait, and -you'll see. Always 'manoeuvres,' always 
 ' offensive movements ! '" he said to himself. " What for ? So 
 as to gain distinction. One would think there was something 
 jolly in this fighting. They are just like children, from whom 
 you can't expect reason, for the whole business lies in the fact 
 that they all want to prove how well they can fight. But that 
 is not the case now. And what fine manoeuvres ^hey are 
 always proposing to me ! It seems to them that when they 
 have devised two or three chances " he was thinking about the 
 general plan sent from Petersburg " they have exhausted 
 the list, but there's no end to them." 
 
 The vexed question whether the Wild Beast was mortally 
 wounded or not at Borodino had been for more than a month 
 suspended over Kutuzof's head. 
 
 On the one hand, the French had taken possession of Mos- 
 cow ; on the other, Kutuzof undoubtedly felt in his whole being 
 that that terrible blow, in the dealing of which had been con- 
 centrated the force of the united Russian people, must have 
 been mortal*
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 119 
 
 But, in any case, proofs were required, and he had been 
 waiting for them for more than a month ; and in proportion as 
 time slipped away, the more impatient he became. 
 
 As he lay on his couch during these sleepless nights of his, 
 he did the same thing that the younger element among his 
 generals did, the very thing for which he reproached them. 
 He thought out all possible contingencies, just as the younger 
 generals did, but with this difference only, that he placed no 
 dependence on these prognostications, and that he saw them, 
 not in twos or threes, but in thousands. 
 
 The more he thought about them, the more abundantly they 
 arose before him. He imagined every kind of motion that the 
 Napoleonic army might make, whether as a whole or in parts; 
 against Petersburg, against himself, against his flank. There 
 was one contingency that he imagined, and this he dreaded more 
 than any other, which was that Napoleon might turn against 
 him his own weapon, that he might settle down in Moscow 
 and wait for him. 
 
 Kutuzof even imagined Napoleon's army marching back to 
 Meduin and Yukhnof, but the one thing that he could not have 
 foreseen was the very thing that happened, that senseless, 
 cautious doubling to and fro of Napoleon's army during the first 
 eleven days after it left Moscow ; that indecision which ren- 
 dered possible what Kutuzof had not till then dared even to 
 think about namely, the absolute destruction of the French. 
 
 Dorokhof's report about Broussier's division, the informa- 
 tion imparted by the " partisans " in regard to the distresses of 
 Napoleon's army, the rumors of preparation for evacuating 
 Moscow, all taken together, confirmed the presumption that 
 the French army was worsted and was preparing to flee. But 
 these presumptions only appealed to the younger men, not to 
 Kutuzof. 
 
 He, with his sixty years' experience, knew how much de- 
 pendence was to be put upon hearsay, knew how prone men 
 who wished anything were to group all the indications in 
 such a way as to conform with their desire, and he knew how 
 in such a case as this they are glad to drop out of sight any- 
 thing that might seem opposed to it. 
 
 And the more Kutuzof desired this the less he permitted 
 himself to put any trust in it. This question engaged all the 
 energies of his mind. Everything else was for him merely 
 the ordinary business of life. And such subordinate business 
 of life included his conversation with his staff officers, his 
 letters to Madame Stahl * which he wrote from Tarutino, the 
 * Mme. de Stael ?
 
 120 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 reading of novels, the granting of rewards, his correspond- 
 ence with Petersburg, and the like. 
 
 But the destruction of the French, which he had been the 
 only one to foresee, was the only real desire of his soul. 
 
 On the night of the twenty-third of October, he was lying 
 down, his head resting on his hand, and was thinking about 
 this. 
 
 There was a commotion in the next room, and steps were 
 heard : it was Toll, Konovnitsuin, and Bolkhovitinof. 
 
 "Ei! who is there? Come in, come in! What news?" 
 cried the field-marshal to them. 
 
 While the servant was lighting a candle, Toll told the gist 
 of the news. 
 
 " Who brought it ? " asked Kutuzof, his face amazing Toll, 
 when the light was made, by its cold sternness. 
 
 " There can be no doubt about it, your serene highness." 
 
 " Bring him in, bring him in." 
 
 Kutuzof sat down, stretching out one leg on the bed, and 
 resting his huge paunch on the other, which he doubled up. 
 He blinked his sound eye, in order to get a better sight of the 
 messenger, as though he expected in his features to read the 
 answer to what was occupying him. 
 
 " Go on, tell us about it, friend," said he to Bolkhovitinof 
 in his low, senile voice, gathering together over his chest his 
 shirt, which had fallen open. " Come here, come nearer. 
 What is this bit of news you have brought me ? What ! 
 Napoleon left Moscow ? And his army too ? Ha ? " 
 
 Bolkhovitinof gave him a detailed account, from the very 
 beginning, of all that had been committed to him. 
 
 " Speak faster, faster ; don't torment m'y very soul," Kutu- 
 zof said, interrupting him. 
 
 Bolkhovitinof told the whole story and then remained 
 silent, awaiting orders. 
 
 Toll began to make some remark, but Kutuzof interrupted 
 him. He wished to say something, but suddenly his face 
 wrinkled and frowned. Waving his hand to Toll, he walked 
 across the room, to the " red corner " of the izba, where the 
 holy pictures were ranged black against the wall. 
 
 " Lord, my Creator ! Thou hast heard our prayer," said he 
 in a trembling voice, folding his hands. " Saviour of Eussia I 
 I thank thee, Lord." 
 
 And he burst into tears.
 
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 121 
 
 CHAPTER XYIII. 
 
 FROM the time that this news came until the end of the 
 campaign, all Kutuzof's activity is confined to exercising his 
 power, shrewdness, and persuasion to prevent his troops from 
 useless attacks, manoeuvres, and encounters with an enemy 
 already doomed. 
 
 Dokhturof goes to Malo-Yaroslavetz ; but Kutuzof dawdles 
 along with his whole army, and gives orders for the evacua- 
 tion of Kaluga, retreat behind that town seeming to him 
 perfectly practicable. 
 
 Kutuzof falls back ; but the enemy, not waiting for his 
 retreat, takes to flight in the opposite direction. 
 
 The historians of Napoleon describe for us his clever 
 manoeuvres at Tarutino and Malo-Yaroslavetz, and make 
 hypotheses as to what would have happened if Napoleon had 
 succeeded in entering the rich southern provinces. 
 
 But, not to mention the fact that nothing prevented Napo- 
 leon from entering these southern provinces, since the Russian 
 army gave him a free road, the historians forget that nothing 
 could have saved the French army, for it already carried 
 within itself the inevitable elements of its own destruction. 
 
 How could an army which had found an abundance of pro- 
 visions at Moscow, and, instead of keeping them, had tram- 
 pled them under its feet, an army which, on arriving 'at 
 Smolensk, had, instead of gathering stores, given itself up to 
 pillage, how could this army have saved itself in the prov- 
 ince of Kaluga, inhabited as it was by a Russian population 
 similar to that of Moscow, and where fire had the same 
 property of burning up whatever was set on fire ? 
 
 This army could nowhere have retrieved itself. After 
 Borodino and the pillage of Moscow it henceforth bore in 
 itself the chemical conditions of decomposition. 
 
 The men of this, which was once an army, ran, like their 
 leaders, knowing not whither, having (Napoleon and every 
 soldier) but one desire, to escape as soon as possible from 
 this situation, which they all, though vaguely, realized was 
 inextricable. 
 
 This was the only reason that at Malo-Yaroslavetz, when 
 Napoleon's generals pretended to hold a council, and various 
 opinions were offered, the last opinion of all, General Mou- 
 ton's, who, being a simple-minded soldier, spoke what all
 
 122 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 thought, that they must get away as quickly as possible, 
 closed all mouths ; and no one, not even Napoleon, could say 
 anything against a truth recognized by all. 
 
 But though all knew that they must depart, there still 
 remained the shame of confessing that they must take to 
 flight. Some external impulse was needed to overcome this 
 shame. And the impulse came at the proper time. It was 
 what the French called " the emperor's ambush." * 
 
 Early the next morning, after the council, Napoleon, pre- 
 tending that he was going to inspect his troops and examine 
 the field of battle, past and to come, rode to the centre of his 
 lines, accompanied by his suite of marshals and by his guard. 
 
 Some Cossacks, prowling about in search of plunder, stum- 
 bled upon the emperor, and alinost made him prisoner. 
 
 If the Cossacks failed this time to capture Napoleon, it was 
 because he was saved by the very thing that proved the 
 destruction of the French : love of booty, which on this occa- 
 sion, as at Tarutino, led the Cossacks to neglect men, and 
 think only of pillage. They paid no attention to the emperor, 
 but flung themselves on the spoils, and Napoleon succeeded 
 in escaping. 
 
 When the " children of the Don " les enfans du Don : 
 were able to lay hold on ^the emperor himself in the midst of 
 his army, it became clear that there was nothing else to be 
 done but beat a retreat by the shortest known road. 
 
 Napoleon, with the rotund abdomen of his forty years, no 
 longer felt his former agility and courage, and accepted the 
 omen. Under the influence of the fright given him by the 
 Cossacks, he immediately sided with Mouton, and, as the his- 
 torians say, gave the order to retreat along the road to Smolensk. 
 
 The fact that Napoleon agreed with Mouton and that the 
 French troops retreated does not prove that Napoleon or- 
 dered the movement, but that the forces which were acting 
 upon the army to push it in the direction of Mozhaisk had 
 simultaneously exerted their influence upon Napoleon himself. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 WHEN a man undertakes any movement he has always an 
 object in view. If he has a journey of a thousand versts 
 before him he must expect something good at the end of 
 those thousand versts. He must anticipate a promised land, 
 in order to have strength enough to cover the distance. 
 * Le hourra de VEmpereur.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 123 
 
 When the French invaded Russia their promised land was 
 Moscow ; when they began their retreat it was 'their native 
 land. But their native land was far, far away ; and when a 
 man starts out on a journey of a thousand versts, he must 
 surely forget the end in view, and say to himself, " To-day, I 
 will go forty versts, and there I shall find rest and lodging ; " 
 and during this first stage of his journey this resting-place 
 becomes for the time being his ultimate destination, and he 
 concentrates upon it all his hopes and desires. 
 
 Aspirations which are found in any isolated man are always 
 intensified in a body of men. 
 
 To the French, returning over the old Smolensk highway, 
 the final end in view the return t'o the fatherland was too 
 far off ; and the immediate goal toward which all their desires 
 and hopes, magnified to enormous proportions in the whole 
 body of men, were directed, was Smolensk. 
 
 It was not because they expected to find in Smolensk 
 many provisions or fresh troops, or because they had been 
 told any such thing ; on the contrary, all the generals of the 
 army, and Napoleon as well, knew that there was very little 
 to be found at Smolensk, but because this was the only 
 thing that could give the soldiers the power to march and to 
 endure the privations of the moment, that those who knew 
 the truth and those who knew it not, alike deceiving them- 
 selves, struggled toward Smolensk as their promised land. 
 
 Once on the high-road, the French hurried toward this ficti- 
 tious destination, with a remarkable energy and unprecedented 
 velocity. 
 
 Besides the general yearning for a single object, on which 
 the whole body of the French army was united and which 
 imparted a certain additional energy, there was still another 
 cause uniting them. This cause was found in their aggre- 
 gation. 
 
 This enormous multitude, as if obedient to the physical law 
 of attraction, drew to itself all isolated atoms of men. These 
 hundred thousand men moved on in a compact mass like a 
 whole empire ! 
 
 Each man among them wished for but one thing to fall 
 into captivity, and so to be delivered from all their horrors and 
 sufferings. But, on the one hand, the power of the common 
 impulse toward their goal, Smolensk, carried each one in the 
 same direction. 
 
 On the other hand it was impossible for an entire corps to 
 surrender to a single company, and, although the French took
 
 124 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 advantage of every convenient occasion to separate from their 
 fellows, and at even the slightest pretext surrendered to the 
 Russians, these pretexts did not always offer. 
 
 The great numbers of them and their hard, rapid march 
 deprived them of these possibilities, and made it not only dif- 
 ficult, but impossible, for the Russians to arrest this move- 
 ment in which was concentrated the entire energy of such a 
 mass of the French. 
 
 The mechanical disruption of the body could not hasten, 
 beyond a certain limit, the process of decomposition in 
 progress. 
 
 It is impossible to melt a snowball in an instant. There 
 exists a certain limit of time before which no power of heat 
 can melt the snow. On the contrary, the greater the heat the 
 more solidified is the snow which remains. 
 
 With the exception of Kutuzof, none of the Russian gen- 
 erals understood this. When the retreat of the French army 
 took the definite shape of flight along the Smolensk road 
 they began to realize the truth of what Konovnitsuin had. 
 foreseen on the night of October 23. 
 
 All the superior generals of the army wished to distinguish 
 themselves, to cut the French off, to take them prisoners, to 
 set upon them ; and all demanded offensive operations. 
 
 Kutuzof alone employed all his powers the powers of 
 any commanding general are very small to resist offensive 
 operations. 
 
 He could not say what we can say to-day why fight 
 battles, why dispute the road, why lose your own men, and 
 why inhumanly kill unfortunate wretches ? why do all this, 
 when from Moscow to Viazma, without any combat whatever, 
 a third of this army has disappeared ? but drawing from 
 his wisdom what they might have understood, he told them 
 about " the golden bridge ; " * and they mocked him, slan- 
 dered him, and hurled themselves upon the dying Beast to 
 rend it and cut it in pieces. 
 
 At Viazma, Yermolof, Miloradovitch, Platof, and others, 
 finding themselves near the French, could not restrain them- 
 selves from cutting off and destroying two French army corps. 
 Kutuzof they derided by sending him a sheet of blank paper 
 in an envelope, instead of a report of their undertaking. 
 
 And in spite of all Kutuzof's efforts to restrain our troops, 
 the troops assailed the French, and endeavored to dispute 
 
 * " Let them cross the golden bridge ; " that is, " Give them every chance 
 of self-destruction."
 
 WAR AND bjEACE. 125 
 
 their way. Eegiments of infantry, we are told, with music 
 and drums, boldly advanced to the attack, and killed and lost 
 thousands of men. 
 
 But they could not cut off the fugitives, or exterminate 
 the enemy. And the French army, drawing its ranks more 
 closely together, because of the danger, and regularly melting 
 away, advanced along this its fatal road to Smolensk.
 
 *. 
 
 PART THIRD. 
 
 CHAPTER, I. 
 
 THE battle of Borodino, with the successive occupation of 
 Moscow and the flight of the French army without further 
 battles, is one of the most instructive events of history. 
 
 All historians agree that the external activity of states and 
 peoples, in their mutual collisions, is expressed by war ; that 
 immediately after great or petty military successes the politi- 
 cal power of states and nations is increased or diminished. 
 
 Strange as it seems in reading history to find that such and 
 such a king or emperor, on quarrelling with other emperors or 
 kings, gets his troops together, attacks the enemy's army, 
 wins the victory, kills three thousand, five thousand, ten thou- 
 sand men, and in consequence of this vanquishes a whole 
 state and a whole population of millions of men ; hard as it 
 is to understand why the defeat of an army the loss of a 
 hundredth part of all a nation's forces should compel the 
 submission of the entire nation, yet all the facts of history, 
 so far as it is known to us, confirm the justice of the assertion 
 that the greater or less success of the army of any nation at 
 war with another is the cause, or at least the essential indica- 
 tion, of the increase or decrease of the power of those nations. 
 
 When an army has won a victory, instantly the "rights" of 
 the victorious nation are increased to the detriment of the 
 vanquished. When an army has suffered defeat, immediately 
 the nation is deprived of " rights " in proportion to the 
 defeat ; and when the army has been completely defeated, the 
 nation is completely vanquished. 
 
 This has been the case, according to history, from the most 
 ancient to the most recent times. All of Napoleon's wars 
 serve to confirm this truth. 
 
 In proportion as the Austrian troops were defeated, Austria 
 lost its " rights," while the rights and powers of France were 
 magnified. 
 
 The victories of the French at Jena and Austerlitz destroyed 
 the independence of Prussia. 
 
 126 

 
 WAR AND PEACE. 127 
 
 But suddenly in 1812 the " battle of the Moskva " was won 
 by the French, Moscow was captured; and yet, though no more 
 battles were fought, Kussia ceased not to exist, while this 
 army of six hundred thousand men did cease to exist, and 
 subsequently the France of Napoleon. 
 
 To force facts to fit the rules of history, to say that the 
 battle-field of Borodino was won by the Russians, or that, 
 after the occupation of Moscow, battles were fought that ex- 
 terminated Napoleon's army, is impossible. 
 
 After the victory of the French at Borodino, not only was 
 there no general battle, but no battle of any importance ; and 
 yet the French army ceased to exist. 
 
 What does this fact signify ? 
 
 If such a thing had occurred in the history of China, we 
 might say that it was not a historical event the favorite loop- 
 hole of historians when facts do not fit theories ; if it were 
 a question of a conflict of short duration in which small forces 
 tcok part, we might declare the event an exception to the 
 general rule. 
 
 But this event took place under the eyes of our fathers, for 
 whom the question of the life or death of their country was 
 decided, and this war was the most momentous of all known 
 tvars. 
 
 That period in the campaign of 1812, from the battle of 
 Borodino to the retreat of the French, proved not only that a 
 battle won is not always a cause of conquest, but also that it 
 may not be even a sign of conquest ; proved that the force 
 which decides the destiny of nations consists not in con- 
 querors, or even in armies and battles, but in something 
 different. 
 
 The French historians, describing the condition of the 
 troops before the evacuation of Moscow, assure us that every- 
 thing was in good order in the " Grand Army," excepting the 
 cavalry, the artillery, and the wagon-trains ; forage being also 
 lacking for the horses and cattle. There was no help for this 
 evil, for the muzhiks of the region around burned their hay, 
 and would not let the French have it. 
 
 The victory won by the French did not bring the usual 
 results, because of the muzhiks Karp and Vlas, who, after the 
 departure of the French, went to Moscow with carts to plun- 
 der the city, and who personally, as a rule, manifested no 
 heroic sentiments ; and yet the whole innumerable throng of 
 similar muzhiks refused to carry hay to Moscow in spite 
 of the money offered to them, but burned it.
 
 128 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 Let us imagine two men engaged in a duel with swords ac- 
 cording to all the rules of the art of fencing. For a consider- 
 able time the parrying has continued ; then suddenly one of the 
 contestants, feeling that he has been wounded, realizing that 
 the affair is no joke, but that his life depends upon it, throws 
 aside his sword, and, seizing the first club that comes to hand, 
 begins to wield it. 
 
 Now let us imagine that this man, who so wisely employs 
 the best and simplest method for attaining his object, is at 
 the same time imbued with the traditions of chivalry, and, 
 wishing to conceal the truth, should insist upon it that he 
 was victorious over the sword according to the rules of the 
 art of fencing. It can *be imagined what confusion and lack 
 of clearness would arise from such a story. 
 
 The duellist who demands an encounter according to the 
 rules of the art is the French ; his enemy, who throws away 
 his sword and takes up a club, is the Russians ; those w r ho 
 try to explain everything according to the rules of fencing 
 are the historians who have described these events. 
 
 From the time of the burning of Smolensk began a form 
 of war which does not belong to any of the former traditions 
 of war. 
 
 The burnings of towns and villages, battles followed by 
 retreats, the blow at Borodino and the retreat, the burning of 
 Moscow, the hunting down of marauders, the intercepting of 
 provision-trains, the " partisan " warfare, all this was con- 
 trary to the rules. 
 
 Napoleon felt this ; and from the very time when he stood 
 in Moscow, in the regular position of fencing, and discovered 
 that the hand of his opponent held a club over him instead of 
 a sword, he did not cease to complain to Kutuzof and the 
 Emperor Alexander that the war was conducted contrary to 
 all rules as if there were rules for the killing of men ! 
 
 But, in spite of all the complaints of the French about the 
 breaking of rules, in spite of the fact that the Russians highest 
 in position were ashamed of fighting with the cudgel, and 
 desired to stand in a position where, according to all the rules, 
 they could fight, en quarte, en tierce, and make the clever 
 thrust, en prime, and so on, the club of the popular war was 
 lifted in all its threatening and majestic power, and, caring 
 nothing for good taste and rules, with stupid simplicity but 
 sound judgment, not making distinctions, it was lifted, and 
 fell and pounded the French until the whole army of invaders 
 perished.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 129 
 
 And honor be to that people who did not as the French did 
 in 1813, who saluted the enemy according to all the rules of 
 the art, and, reversing their swords, politely and gracefully 
 handed them to their magnanimous conqueror. Honor be to 
 that people who in the moment of trial, not asking how others 
 had acted in conformity to rules in similar circumstances, 
 simply and quickly seized the first club at hand, and wielded 
 it until the feeling of anger and vengeance in their hearts 
 gave way to contempt and pity ! 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 ONE of the most obvious and advantageous infractions of 
 the so-called rules of war is the action of isolated individ- 
 uals against troops crowded together into a mass. 
 
 This sort of activity is always seen in wars which assume 
 a popular character. This form of warfare consists in this, 
 that, instead of one compact body meeting another compact 
 body, men disperse, attack separately, and instantly retire 
 when threatened by superior forces, and then re-appear at the 
 first favorable opportunity. 
 
 Thus did the Guerillas in Spain, thus did the mountaineers 
 in the Caucasus, thus did the Russians in 1812. 
 
 Warfare of this sort is called "partisan" or guerilla 
 warfare, and when it is thus named its meaning is ex- 
 plained. 
 
 This sort of warfare, however, not only fails to come under 
 any rules, but is opposed directly to a well-known and infal- 
 lible law of tactics. This law demands that the assailant 
 shall concentrate his troops so as to be, at the moment of 
 combat, stronger than his enemy. 
 
 Partisan warfare (always successful, as history proves) is 
 directly opposed to that law. 
 
 This contradiction arises from the fact that military science 
 takes the strength of armies to be identical with their num- 
 bers. Military science says : The more troops, the greater 
 the strength. Great battalions are always right: Les gros 
 bataillons out toujours raison. In making this assertion, mili- 
 tary science is like the science of mechanics, which, consider- 
 ing the momenta of moving bodies only in relation to their 
 masses, affirms that these forces will be equal or unequal as 
 their masses are equal or unequal. 
 VOL. 4. 9.
 
 
 130 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 Momentum (the quantity of movement) is the product of 
 the mass into the velocity. 
 
 In war the momentum of troops is likewise the product of 
 the mass multiplied by some unknown quantity, x. 
 
 Military science, seeing in history an infinite collection 
 of examples, that the mass of armies does not coincide with 
 the strength, and that small detachments have conquered 
 large ones, confusedly recognizes the existence of this un- 
 known factor, and tries to discover it now in geometrical com- 
 binations, now in differences of armament, now, and this 
 most generally, in the genius of the commanders. 
 
 But the values given to all these factors do not suffice to 
 account for the results in accordance with historical facts. 
 
 Meantime it is sufficient for us to rid ourselves of the false 
 idea, invented for the pleasure of heroes, that in the effect of 
 the arrangements made by the commanders in time of war, we 
 shall find this unknown x. 
 
 This x is the spirit of the army ; in other words, the more 
 or less intense desire of all the men composing the army to 
 light and expose themselves to perils, independently of the 
 question whether they are under the command of men of 
 genius or otherwise, whether they fight in three or two ranks, 
 whether they are armed with clubs, or with guns delivering 
 thirty shots a minute. 
 
 Men who have the most intense desire to fight always put 
 themselves in the most advantageous position for fighting. 
 
 The spirit of the army is the factor, multiplied by the mass, 
 which gives the product, power. To determine and express 
 the meaning of the spirit of the army that unknown factor 
 is the problem of science. 
 
 The problem is possible only when we cease to put arbi- 
 trarily, in place of this unknown x, the conditions under which 
 the momentum is produced, such as the dispositions of the 
 commander, the armament, and so on, and disregarding them 
 as the significant factor, realize this unknown quantity in all 
 its integration as the more or less active desire animating the 
 men to fight and confront danger. 
 
 Only then when we express known historical facts by means 
 of equations can we, by a comparison of the relative value of 
 this unknown factor, determine the unknown factor. 
 
 Ten men, battalions, or divisions, fighting with fifteen men, 
 battalions, or divisions, conquer the fifteen, that is, kill them 
 or take them all prisoners without exception, themselves 
 losing only four. On one side fifteen have been exterminated. 
 
 >
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 181 
 
 on the other four. In reality the four were equal to the 
 fifteen, and consequently 
 
 consequently 
 
 x : y = 15 : 4. 
 
 This equation does not give the value of the unknown fac- 
 tor, but it expresses the relations between the two unknown 
 factors, and, by putting into the form of similar equations 
 historical units taken separately, battles, campaigns, periods 
 of war, a series of numbers will be obtained in which laws 
 must exist and may be discovered. 
 
 The rule of tactics commanding troops to act in masses 
 during an attack, and separately in a retreat, is an uncon- 
 scious expression of the truth that the strength of troops 
 depends upon their spirit. Better discipline is required to 
 lead men into fire than to induce them to defend themselves 
 against assailants, and is obtained exclusively by movements 
 in masses. 
 
 But this rule, which takes no account of the spirit of the 
 troops, constantly proves fallacious and particularly opposed 
 to the reality, when there is an increased or diminished spirit 
 among the troops in all popular wars. 
 
 The French, in retreating in 1812, though they should, ac- 
 cording to tactics, have defended themselves separately, drew 
 into closer masses, because the spirit of the troops had fallen 
 so low that the army could be maintained only by holding the 
 men in mass. 
 
 The Russians, on the contrary, ought, according to tactics, 
 to have attacked in mass ; but . in fact they scattered their 
 forces, because the spirit of their troops had risen so high 
 that isolated men attacked the French without waiting for 
 orders, and had no need of constraint to induce them to expose 
 themselves to fatigues and perils. 
 
 CHAPTEE III. 
 
 THE so-called partisan or guerilla war* began with the 
 arrival of the French at Smolensk. 
 
 Before this guerilla warfare was officially recognized by our 
 government, thousands of the hostile army mauraders left 
 * Partizdnskaya voind.
 
 132 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 behind, and foraging parties had been exterminated by Cos- 
 sacks and muzhiks, who killed these men as instinctively as 
 dogs worry to death a mad dog that has run astray. 
 
 Denis Davuidof, with his keen Russian scent, was the first 
 to understand the significance of this terrible cudgel, which, 
 without regard to the rules of military science, annihilated 
 the French, and to him belongs the glory of taking the first 
 step toAvard formulating this sort of warfare. 
 
 On the fifth of September, Davuidof's first partisan squad 
 was organized ; and after the example of his, others were or- 
 ganized. The longer the campaign continued, the greater 
 became the number of these bands. 
 
 The partisans demolished the " Grand Army " in detach- 
 ments. They trampled down the fallen leaves which came off 
 from the dried tree the French army and now and again 
 shook the tree itself. 
 
 In October when the French were on their way back to 
 Smolensk, there were hundreds of these bands, of various 
 sizes and characters. There were bands which had all the 
 appurtenances of a regular army infantry, artillery, staff 
 officers and many of the comforts of life : others consisted 
 solely of Cossacks, cavalry ; there were others of insignificant 
 size, gathered at haphazard, infantry and cavalry mixed ; there 
 were those composed of muzhiks, and those organized by land- 
 owners, and others that owned no allegiance to any com- 
 mander. 
 
 A diachok or sacristan was the leader of one band, which, 
 in the course of a month, took several hundred prisoners : and 
 there was the wife of a village starosta, named Vasilisa, who 
 killed hundreds of the French. 
 
 The early days of November saw the greatest development 
 of this partisan warfare. The first period of this kind of war 
 during which the "partisans" themselves were amazed at 
 their own audacity, were afraid every moment of being sur- 
 prised and surrounded by the French, and kept hid in the 
 forests, not unsaddling, and scarcely venturing to dismount 
 from their horses, expecting to be pursued at any moment 
 was past. 
 
 By this time this kind of warfare had taken definite form 
 it had become clear to all what they could do and what they 
 could not do in grappling with the French. 
 
 The leaders of bands, who had regular staffs, and followed 
 rules, kept at a respectful distance from the French, and were 
 chary of undertaking certain things, which they regarded as 

 
 WAR AND PEACE. 133 
 
 impossible. Petty partisans who had been engaged for some 
 time in the business, and had gained a close acquaintance 
 with the French, considered feasible what the leaders of the 
 large bands would not dare even to think of. 
 
 Cossacks and muzhiks who slipped easily in and out among 
 the French reckoned that everything was possible. 
 
 On the fourth of November, Denisof, who was one of these 
 partisan leaders, found himself, with his band, in the very 
 brunt of partisan excitement. Since morning, he and his band 
 had been on the march. All day long, keeping under shelter 
 of the forest that skirted the highway, he had been following 
 a large French convoy of cavalry baggage and Russian 
 prisoners, isolated from the other troops, and under a power- 
 ful escort, on its way to Smolensk, as was known from scouts 
 arid prisoners. 
 
 The existence of this train was known, not only to Denisof 
 and Dolokhof who was also a partisan leader with a small 
 band, and was advancing close by but to the nachalniks of 
 several large bands, with their staffs, all knew about this 
 train, and, as Denisof expressed it, "were whetting their 
 teeth for it." 
 
 Two of these large bands, one commanded by a Polyak, the 
 other by a German, almost simultaneously sent to Denisof 
 to join forces, each inviting him to help them attack the 
 " transport." 
 
 "No, thank you, bwother, I shave my own whiskers," said 
 Denisof, as he read their letters ; and he replied to the Ger- 
 man that, in spite of the heartfelt desire which he had of 
 serving under the command of such a valiant and distin- 
 guished general, he should have to deprive himself of that 
 pleasure, because he had already joined the command of the 
 Polish general. 
 
 And to the Polish general he wrote the same thing, assur- 
 ing him that he had already joined the command of the 
 German. 
 
 Having thus disposed of fhese matters, Denisof made his 
 plans without reference to these high officials, to join in com- 
 pany with Dolokhof, and attack and capture this train, with 
 the small force at their command. 
 
 The " transport " was proceeding, on the fourth of Novem- 
 ber, from the village of Mikulino to the village of Shamshevo. 
 On the left-hand side of the road between the two villages ran 
 a dense forest, in places approaching the road, in places reced- 
 ing from the road a verst and more.
 
 134 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 It was under the cover of this forest, now hiding in its 
 depths, now approaching its edge, that Denisof had been ad- 
 vancing all day long, with his band not once losing the French 
 from sight. 
 
 In the morning, not far from Mikulino, where the forest 
 came nearest to the road, the Cossacks of Denisof's band had 
 seized two of the French wagons, loaded with cavalry saddles, 
 which had got stuck in the mud, and made off with them into 
 the forest. 
 
 From that time until evening, the band, without attacking, 
 followed the French in all their movements. 
 
 It was necessary to allow them, without being alarmed, to 
 reach Shamshevo in safety ; there Denisof would unite with 
 Dolokhof, who was to come for a consultation, that evening, to 
 a designated spot in the forest, about a verst from Shamshevo, 
 and at daybreak they would fall upon them from two sides at 
 once quite unexpectedly " like snow on the head," as the 
 saying goes and defeat and capture the whole host at one 
 fell blow. 
 
 Two versts in the rear of Mikulino, where the forest ap- 
 proached the road, six Cossacks were to be left, who were to 
 report instantly in case new columns of the French showed 
 up. 
 
 In front of Shamshevo, Dolokhof was to scour the road so 
 as to know at what distance other French troops might be. 
 
 The " transport " mustered fifteen hundred men. Denisof 
 had two hundred, and Dolokhof might have as many. But 
 the preponderance of numbers did not deter Denisof. The 
 only thing that he cared now to know was what sort of men 
 composed these troops, and, with this end in view, Denisof 
 wanted to capture a tongue ; that is, a man from the enemy's 
 ranks. In the morning, when they fell upon the two wagons, 
 the affair was accomplished with such celerity that all the 
 French in charge of the two wagons had been killed, and the 
 only one taken alive was a drummer boy who had remained 
 behind, and was incapable of giving any decided information 
 about the kind of men that formed the column. 
 
 To make a second descent, Denisof considered, would be at 
 the risk of arousing the whole column, and therefore he sent 
 forward to Shamshevo the muzhik Tikhon Shcherbatof, one 
 of his band, to pick up, if possible, one of the French quarter- 
 masters who would be likely to be there in advance.
 
 AR AND PEACE. 135 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 IT was a mild, rainy, autumn day. The sky and the earth 
 blended in the same hue, like that of turbid water. At one 
 moment it was precipitated in the form of fog ; at the next, 
 suddenly round, slanting drops of rain would fall. 
 
 Denisof, in his burka or felt cloak, and papakh or Cossack 
 cap, from which the water was streaming, was riding along on 
 a lean thoroughbred with tightened girths. Like his horse, 
 he kept his head bent and ears alert, and, scowling at the 
 slanting rain, peered anxiously ahead. His face was some- 
 what thinner than of yore, and with its growth of thick, short 
 black beard, looked fierce. 
 
 Abreast of Denisof, also in burka and papakh, on a plump, 
 coarse-limbed Don pony, rode a Cossack esaul,* Denisofs 
 ally. 
 
 A third, the Esaul Lovaiski, likewise in burka and papakh, 
 was a long-limbed, light-complexion^d man, as flat as a plank, 
 with narrow, bright eyes and a calmly self-coDfident expres- 
 sion both of face and pose. Although it- was impossible to 
 tell wherein consisted the individuality of horse and rider, 
 still at a glance first at the esaul and then at Denisof, it was 
 evident that Denisof was wet and uncomfortable, that Denisof 
 was a man who merely rode his horse ; while on looking at the 
 esaul, it was evident that he was as comfortable and confident 
 as ever, and that he was not a man who merely rode the 
 horse, but a man who was one being with his horse, and thus 
 possessed of double strength. 
 
 A short distance ahead of them walked their guide, a little 
 peasant in a gray kaftan and a white cap, wet to the skin. 
 
 A little behind them, on a lean, slender Kirgiz pony with a 
 huge tail and mane and with mouth bloody and torn, rode a 
 young officer in a blue French capote. 
 
 Next him rode a hussar, who had taken up behind him, on 
 his horse's crupper, a lad in a torn French uniform and blue 
 cap. This lad clung to the hussar with hands red with cold, 
 and rubbed his bare feet together to warm them, and gazed 
 around him in amazement with uplifted brows. This was the 
 French drummer boy whom they had taken prisoner that 
 morning. 
 
 * Esaul at the present time is the Cossack title corresponding to captain 
 of a sotnya or hundred ; sotnik (centuriou) was the former term.
 
 136 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 Behind them, three and four deep, stretched the line of hus- 
 sars along the narrow, winding, and well-worn forest path; 
 then came Cossacks, some in burkas, some in French capotes, 
 some with cavalry housings thrown over their heads. Their 
 horses, whether roan or bay, seemed all black as coal in the 
 rain which was streaming from them. 
 
 The horses' necks seemed strangely slender from their soaked 
 manes. From the horses arose a steam. The clothes and 
 the saddles ~ nd the bridles, everything was wet, slippery, and 
 limp, just like the ground and the fallen leaves which covered 
 the path. The men sat with scowling faces, trying not to 
 move, so as to warm the water that had trickled down their 
 backs and not to allow any fresh invasion of cold water to 
 get under their saddles, on their knees, or down their necks. 
 
 In the midst of the long train of Cossacks the two wagons 
 drawn by French and Cossack horses (the latter harnessed in 
 with their saddles on) rattled over the stumps and roots 
 and splashed through the ruts full of water. 
 
 Denisof's horse, avoiding a puddle which covered the road, 
 sprang to one side and struck his knee against a tree. 
 
 " Oh, the devil ! " cried Denisof wrathfully, and, showing 
 his teeth, he gave the horse three blows with the whip, spat- 
 tering himself and his comrades with mud. Denisof was not 
 in good spirits, owing to the rain and his hunger, he had 
 eaten nothing since morning, and principally because noth- 
 ing had been heard from Dolokhof, and because the man sent 
 to capture " the tongue" had not returned. 
 
 "We sha'n't be likely to find another chance like to-day's to 
 stwike the twansport twain. To attack them alone is too 
 much of a wisk ; and to wait till another day some of 
 those big bands of partisans will be sure to snatch it away 
 from under our very noses," said Denisof, who kept his eyes 
 constantly toward the front, thinking that he might see the 
 expected messenger from Dolokhof. 
 
 On coming out into a vista where there was a clear view 
 extending to some distance toward the right, Denisof reined 
 in. 
 
 " Some one's coming," said he. 
 
 The esaul looked in the direction indicated by Denisof. 
 
 " There are two of them an officer and Cossack. Only 
 you don't pre-suppose that it is the sub-lieutenant himself, 
 do you?" said the esaul, who liked to brir^ in words that 
 were not in use among the Cossacks. 
 
 The riders who were coining down upon them were lost 

 
 WAR AND PEACE. 137 
 
 from sight, and after a little while re -appeared again. The 
 officer, with dishevelled hair, wet to the skin, and with his 
 trousers worked up above his very knees, came riding ir ad- 
 vance at a weary gallop, urging his horse with his whip. 
 Behind him, standing up in his stirrups, trotted his Cossack. 
 This officer, a very young lad, with a broad, rosy face and 
 alert, mischief-loving eyes, galloped up to Denisof and handed 
 him a wet envelope. 
 
 " From the general," said the officer. " Excuse it not being 
 perfectly dry." 
 
 Denisof, frowning, took the envelope and started to break 
 the seal. * 
 
 " Now they all said it was dangerous dangerous," said 
 the young officer, turning to the esaul while Denisof was 
 reading the letter. " However, Kouiarof he pointed to the 
 Cossack Komarof * and I made all our plans. We each had 
 two pist But who is that ? " he asked, breaking off in the 
 middle of the word on catching sight of the French drummer 
 boy. " A prisoner ? Have you had a fight ? May I speak 
 with him ? " 
 
 "Wostof! Petya!" cried Denisof, at that instant having 
 run through the letter that had been given him. " Why 
 didn't you say who you were ? " and Denisof, with a smile, 
 turning round, gave the young officer his hand. 
 
 This young officer was Petya Rostof ! 
 
 All the way Petya had been revolving in his mind how he 
 should behave toward Denisof as became a full-fledged officer, 
 and not give a hint of their former acquaintance. 
 
 But as soon as Denisof smiled on him, Petya immediately 
 became radiant, flushed with delight, and forgot the formality 
 which he had stored up against the occasion, and began to 
 tell him how he had galloped past the French, and how glad 
 he was that such a commission- had been intrusted to him, 
 and how he had been in the battle near Viazma, where a cer- 
 tain hussar greatly distinguished himself. 
 
 " Well, I'm wight glad to see you," said Denisof, interrupt- 
 ing him, and then his face assumed again its anxious expres- 
 sion. " Mikhail Feoklituitch," said he, turning to the esaul, 
 " you see this is from the German again. He insists on our 
 joining him." 
 
 And Denisof proceeded to explain to the esaul that the 
 contents of the letter just received consisted in a reiterated 
 request from the German general to unite with him in an 
 * Name derived from Komdr, a mosquito.
 
 138 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 attack on the transport train. "If we don't get at it to- 
 mowow, he will certainly take it away from under onr vewy 
 noses," he said in conclusion. 
 
 While Denisbf was talking with the esaul, Petya, abashed 
 by Denisof's chilling tone, and supposing that the reason for 
 it might be the state of his trousers, strove to pull them 
 down under shelter of his cloak, so that no one would notice 
 him, and did his best to assume as military an aspect as 
 possible. 
 
 " Will there be any order from your excellency ? " * he 
 asked of Denisof, raising his hand to his visor, and again 
 returning to the little comedy of general and aide for which 
 he had rehearsed himself " Or should I remain with your 
 excellency ? " 
 
 " Orders ? " repeated Denisof thoughtfully. " Can you 
 wemain till to-mowow ? " 
 
 " Akh ! please let me. May I stay with you ? " cried 
 Petya. 
 
 " I suppose your orders from the genewal were to weturn 
 immediately weren't they ? " asked Denisof. 
 
 Petya reddened. 
 
 "He said nothing at all' about it; I think I can," he replied 
 somewhat doubtfully. 
 
 " Well, all wight ! " said Denisof. And, turning to his sub- 
 ordinates, he made various arrangements for the party to make 
 their way to the place of rendezvous at the watch-house in 
 the forest that had been agreed upon, and for the officer on 
 the Kirgiz horse this officer performed the duties of 
 adjutant to ride off in search of Dolokhof, and find whether 
 he would come that evening or not. 
 
 Denisof himself determined to ride down with the esaul 
 and Petya to the edge of the forest nearest to Shamshevo to 
 reconnoitre the position of the French, and find the best place 
 for making their attack on the following day. 
 
 " And now, gwaybeard," said he, turning to the muzhik who 
 was serving as their guide, " take us to Shamshevo." 
 Denisof, Petya, and the esaul, accompanied by a few Cos- 
 packs and the hussar who had charge of the prisoner, rode 
 off to the left, through the ravine, toward the edge of the 
 forest. 
 
 * Vuisokoblagortfdiye, high well-born-ness.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 139 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 IT had ceased to rain ; there was merely a drizzling mist, 
 and the drops of water fell from the branches of the trees. 
 
 Denisof, the esaul, and Petya rode silently behind the 
 muzhik, who, lightly and noiselessly plodding along in his 
 bast lapti over the roots and wet leaves, led them to the edge 
 of the wood. 
 
 On reaching the crest of a slope, the muzhik paused, gave 
 a swift glance, and strode toward where the wall of trees 
 was thinner. Under a great oak which had not yet shed 
 its leaves he paused, and mysteriously beckoned with his 
 hand. 
 
 Denisof and Petya rode up to him. From the place where 
 the muzhik was standing, the French could be seen. Imme- 
 diately back of the forest, occupying the lower half of the 
 slope, spread a field of spring corn. At the right, beyond a 
 steep ravine, could be seen a small village and the manor 
 house * with dilapidated roofs. In this hamlet, and around 
 the mansion house, and over the whole hillside and in the 
 garden, around the well and the pond, and along the whole 
 road up from the bridge to the village, which was not more 
 than quite a quarter of a mile, throngs of men could be seen 
 in the rolling mist. Distinctly could be heard their non- 
 Kussian cries to the horses that were dragging the teams up 
 the hill, and their calls to each other. 
 
 " Bring the prisoner here," said Denisof in a low tone, not 
 taking his eyes from the French. 
 
 A Cossack dismounted, helped the lad down, and came with 
 him to Denisof. Denisof, pointing to the French, asked what 
 troops such and such divisions were. The little drummer, 
 stuffing his benumbed hands into his pockets, and lifting his 
 brows, gazed at Denisof in affright, and, in spite of his 
 evident anxiety to tell all that he knew, got confused in his 
 replies, and merely said yes to all that Denisof asked him. 
 Denisof, scowling, turned from him, and addressed the esaul, 
 to whom he communicated his impressions. 
 
 Petya, moving his head with quick gestures, looked now at 
 the little drummer boy, now at Denisof, and from him to the 
 esaul, then at the French in the village, and did his best not 
 to miss anything of importance that was going on. 
 * BarsTcy ddmik.
 
 140 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 " Whether Dolokhof come or do not come, we must make 
 the attempt hey ? " said Denisof, his eyes flashing with 
 animation. 
 
 " An excellent place," replied the esaul. 
 
 " We'll attack the infantry on the low land the swamp/ 7 
 pursued Denisof. " They'll escape into the garden. You and 
 the Cossacks will set on them from that side." Denisof 
 pointed to the woods beyond the village. " And I from this, 
 with my hussars. And when a gun is fired" 
 
 " You won't be able to cross the ravine there's a quagmire," 
 said the esaul. "The horses would be mired you'll have to 
 strike farther to the left." 
 
 While they were thus talking in an undertone, there rang 
 out below them, in the hollow where the pond was, a single 
 shot ; a white puff of smoke rolled away, then another, and 
 they heard friendly, as it were jolly, shouts from hundreds of 
 the French on the hillside. 
 
 At the first instant both Denisof and the esaul drew back. 
 They were so near that it seemed to them that they were 
 what had occasioned those shots and shouts. 
 
 But the shots and shouts had no reference to them. Below 
 them across the swamp a man in something red was running. 
 It was evidently at this man that the French had shot, and 
 were shouting. 
 
 "Ha! that's our Tikhon," said the esaul. 
 
 " So it is, so it is." 
 
 " Oh ! the wascal ! " exclaimed Denisof. 
 
 " He'll escape 'em ! " said the esaul, blinking his eyes. 
 
 The man whom they called Tikhon ran down to the creek, 
 plunged into it, spattering the water in every direction, and, 
 disappearing for a moment, he crawled out on all-fours, and, 
 black with water, dashed off once more. 
 
 The French who had started in pursuit paused. 
 
 " Cleverly done ! " exclaimed the esaul. 
 
 "What a beast ! " snarled Denisof, with the same expression 
 of vexation as before. " And what has he been up to all this 
 time ? " 
 
 " Who is it ? " asked Petya. 
 
 " Our plastun* We sent him to catch < a tongue.' " 
 
 "Oh, yes," said Petya, at Denisof's first word, nodding his 
 head as though he understood, although really the answer was 
 perfectly enigmatical. 
 
 * Plastun (plastoon), the name of a sharp-shooter who lies in ambush, 
 a scout, among the Black-Sea Cossacks. 
 
 as 
 
 .
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 141 
 
 Tikhon Shcherbatui * was one of the most useful men of the 
 band. He was a muzhik from Pokrovskoye near Gzhatya. 
 
 When Denisof, toward the beginning of his enterprise, 
 reached Pokrovskoye, and, according to his usual custom, sum- 
 moned the starosta, or village elder, and asked him what news 
 they had about the French, the starosta had replied, as all 
 starostas always reply, as though called to account for some 
 mischief, that they had not seen or heard anything. 
 
 But when Denisof explained to him that his aim was to beat 
 the French, then the starosta told him that " miroders " had 
 only just been there, but that only one man in their village, 
 Tishka Shcherbatui, troubled himself about such things. 
 
 Denisof ordered Tikhon to be summoned, and, after prais- 
 ing him for his activity, he spoke to him, in the starosta's 
 presence, a few words- about their fidelity to the tsar and the 
 fatherland, and "that hatred toward the French which the sons 
 of the fatherland were in duty bound to manifest. 
 
 " We haven't done any harm to the French," said Tikhon, 
 evidently confused by this speech of Denisof's. " We only 
 amused ourselves, as you might say, with the boys. We 
 killed a few dozen of the miroders, that was all; but we 
 haven't done 'em any harm." 
 
 On the next day when Denisof, who had entirely forgotten 
 about this muzhik, was starting away from Pokrovskoye, he 
 was informed that Tikhon had joined the band, and asked 
 permission to stay. Denisof gave orders to keep him. 
 
 Tikhon, who at first was given the " black work " of making 
 camp-fires, fetching water, carrying horses, quickly displayed 
 great willingness and aptitude for partisan warfare. He 
 would go out at night after booty, and every time he would 
 return with French clothes and arms, but when it was enjoined 
 upon him he would even bring in prisoners. 
 
 Denisof then relieved Tikhon from drudgery, began to take 
 him with him in his raids, and enrolled him among the Cos- 
 sacks. 
 
 Tikhon was not fond of riding horseback, and always trav- 
 elled on foot, but he never let the cavalry get ahead of him. 
 His weapons consisted of a musket, which he carried out of 
 sport, a lance, and a hatchet, which he used as a wolf uses its 
 teeth, with equal facility eliciting a flea out of his hair or 
 crunching stout bones. Tikhon, with absolute certainty, would 
 split a brain with his hatchet at any distance, and, taking it by 
 the but, he would cut out dainty ornaments, or carve spoons. 
 , The gap-toothed.
 
 142 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 In Denisof 's band Tikhon enjoyed an exclusive and excep- 
 tional position. When there was need of doing anything espe- 
 cially difficult and obnoxious, to put a shoulder to a team 
 stuck in the mud, or to pull a horse from the bog by the tail, 
 or act as knacker, or make his way into the very midst of the 
 French, or travel fifty versts a day, all laughed and gave it 
 to Tikhon to do. 
 
 " What harm will it do him, the devil ? He's tough as a 
 horse ! " they would say of him. 
 
 One time a Frenchman, whom Tikhon had taken prisoner, 
 fired his pistol at him, and wounded him in the seat. This 
 wound, which Tikhon treated with nothing but vodka, taken 
 internally and externally, was the object of the merriest jokes 
 in the whole division, and Tikhon put up with them with a 
 very good grace. 
 
 " Well, brother, how's it coining on ? Does it double you 
 up ? " the Cossacks would ask mockingly ; and Tikhon, en- 
 tering into the fun of the thing, would make up a face, and, 
 pretending to be angry with the French, he would abuse the 
 French with the most absurd objurgations. The only impres- 
 sion that the affair made on Tikhon was that, after his wound, 
 he was chary of bringing in prisoners. 
 
 Tikhon was the most useful and the bravest man in the 
 band. No one was quicker than he was in discovering the 
 chances of a raid ; no one had conquered and killed more of 
 the French ; and, in consequence of this, he was the buffoon 
 of the whole band, and he willingly accommodated himself 
 to this standing. 
 
 Tikhon had now been sent by Denisof that very evening to 
 Shamshevo to capture " a tongue." But either because he 
 had not been satisfied with one single Frenchman, or because 
 he had slept that night, during daylight he had crept among 
 the bushes in the very midst of the French, and, as Denisof 
 had seen from the brow of the ravine, had been discovered by 
 them. 
 
 .CHAPTER VI. 
 
 AFTER talking with the esaul for some little time longer 
 about the morrow's raid, which Denisof, it seemed, having got 
 a view of the French near at hand, was fully disposed to 
 make, he turned his horse and rode back. 
 
 " Well, bwother, now we'll go and dwy ourselves," said he 
 to Petya.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 143 
 
 As they approached the forest watch-house, Denisof reined 
 in, and gazed into the woods. Along the forest, between the 
 trees, came, at a great swinging gait, a long-legged, long- 
 armed man, in a kurta, or roundabout, bast boots, a Kazan 
 cap, with a musket over his shoulder, and a hatchet in his 
 belt. On catching sight of Denisof, this man hastily threw 
 something into the thicket, and, removing his wet cap, with 
 its pendent brim, he approached his leader. 
 
 This was Tikhon. 
 
 His face, pitted with smallpox, and covered with wrinkles, 
 and his little, narrow eyes, fairly beamed with self-satisfied 
 jollity. He lifted his head high, and, as though trying to 
 refrain from laughing, looked at Denisof. 
 
 " Where have you been all this time ? " asked Denisof. 
 
 " Where have I been? I went after the French,'' replied 
 Tikhon, boldly and hastily, in a hoarse but melodious bass. 
 
 " Why did you keep out of sight all day ? Donkey ! Well, 
 why didn't you bring him ? " 
 
 " I brought what I brought," said Tikhon. 
 
 " Where is he ? " 
 
 " Well, I got him, in the first place, before sunrise," pur- 
 sued Tikhon, setting his legs, high-wrapped in lapti, wide 
 apart. " And I lugged him into the woods. But I see he's 
 no good. I thinks to myself, ' I'll try it again ; I'll have better 
 luck with another.' " 
 
 " Oh, you wascal ! what a man he is ! " exclaimed Den- 
 isof, turning to the esaul. " Why didn't you bwing him ? " 
 
 "Yes, why didn't I bring him !" exclaimed Tikhon angrily. 
 u No good ! Don't I know what kind you want ? " 
 
 " What a beast ! Well ? " 
 
 "I went after another one," resumed Tikhon. "I crept this 
 way into the woods, lying flat ! " Tikhon here unexpectedly 
 and abruptly threw himself on his belly, watching their faces 
 while he did so. " Suddenly one shows up," he went on to 
 say ; " I collar him this way." Tikhon swiftly, lithely 
 leaped to his feet. " ' Come along,' says I to the colonel. 
 What a racket he made ! And there were four of 'em ! They 
 sprang on me with their little swords. And I at 'em in this 
 way with my hatchet : ' What's the matter with you ! Christ 
 be with you ! ' says I," cried Tikhon, waving his arms and put- 
 ting on a frightful scowl, swelling his chest. 
 
 " Yes, we just saw from the hill what a tussle you had with 
 ? em, and how you went through the swamp ! " exclaimed the 
 esaul, squinting up his glistening eyes.
 
 144 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 Petya felt a strong inclination to laugh, but he saw that all 
 the others kept perfectly sober. He swiftly ran his eyes from 
 Tikhon's face to the esaul's and Denisof' s, not understanding 
 what this all meant. 
 
 " Cease playing the fool ! " cried Denisof, angrily coughing. 
 " Why didn't you bwing in the first one ? " 
 
 Tikhon began to scratch his back with one hand and his 
 head with the other, and suddenly his whole mouth parted in 
 a radiant, stupid smile, which exposed the lack of a tooth 
 (that was what had given him the name of Shcherbatui, the 
 gap-toothed). Denisof smiled, and Petya indulged in a hearty 
 laugh in which Tikhon himself joined. 
 
 " Oh, well, he was entirely no good ! " said Tikhon. " His 
 clothes were wretched, else I'd have brought him. And 
 besides he was surly, your nobility. Says he, ' I am an ana- 
 raVs son myself,' says he, f and I won't come,' says he." 
 
 " What a brute ! " exclaimed Denisof. " I wanted to ques- 
 tion him " 
 
 " Well, I questioned him," said Tikhon. " ' I don't know 
 much,' says he. 'A poor crowd. A good many of us,' says 
 he, 'but a poor lot. Only,' says he, 'they are all the same 
 kind. Groan a little louder,' says he, ' you'll get 'em all,'" 
 said Tikhon in conclusion, looking gayly and resolutely into 
 Denisof's eyes. 
 
 " I'll have you thrashed with a hot hundred, and then you'll 
 perhaps cease playing the fool," said Denisof severely. 
 
 "What's there to get mad about?" asked Tikhon. "Be- 
 cause I didn't see your Frenchman. Wait till after it's dark, 
 and then, if you want some, I'll bring in three of 'em." 
 
 " Well, come on," said Denisof ; and he rode away angrily 
 scowling, and uttered not a word until he reached the watch- 
 house. 
 
 Tikhon followed, and Petya heard the Cossacks laughing 
 with him and at him about the pair of boots that he had flung 
 into the bushes. When he had recovered from the fit of 
 laughing that overmastered him on account of Tikhon's words 
 and queer smile, and he understood in a flash that Tikhon had 
 killed that man, Petya felt uncomfortable. 
 
 He glanced at the little drummer, and something wrung his 
 very heart. But this sense of awkwardness lasted only for a 
 second. He felt that he must lift his head again, pluck up 
 his courage, and asked the esaul with an air of great impor- 
 tance in regard to the morrow's enterprise, so as to be worthy 
 of the company in which, he found himself.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 145 
 
 The officer who had been sent to find Dolokhof met Denisof 
 on the road with the report that Dolokhof would be there 
 immediately, and that, as far as he was concerned, he was 
 agreeable. Denisof suddenly recovered his spirits, and beck- 
 oned Petya to himself. 
 
 " Now, tell me all about yourself," said he. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 PETYA, on leaving Moscow and saying farewell to his parents, 
 had joined his regiment, and soon after had been appointed 
 orderly to a general who had a large detachment under his 
 command. 
 
 Since the time of his promotion to be an officer, and espe- 
 cially his transfer into the active army, with which he had 
 taken part in the battle at Viazma, Petya had been in a 
 chronic state of excitement and delight, because he was now 
 " grown up," and in a chronic state of enthusiastic eagerness 
 not to miss the slightest chance where heroism was to be dis- 
 played. 
 
 He was much delighted with what he saw and experienced 
 in the army, but, at the same time, it seemed to him that all 
 the chances of heroism were displayed not where he was, but 
 where he was not. A.nd he was crazy to be on the move all 
 the time. 
 
 When, on November second, his general had expressed the 
 desire to sen'd some one to DenisoPs division, Petya pleaded 
 so earnestly to be sent, that the general found it not in his 
 heart to refuse. But, as he let him go, the general remem- 
 bered Petya's reckless escapade in the battle of Viazma, when, 
 instead of taking the road that had been recommended to him, 
 he galloped off in front of the lines and under the French fire, 
 shooting his pistol twice as he rode, and so now the general, in 
 letting him go, expressly forbade Petya to take part in any of 
 Denisof's enterprises whatever. 
 
 That was the reason that Petya had flushed and become 
 confused when Denisof asked him whether he could stay with 
 him. 
 
 Until he reached the edge of the forest, Petya had promised 
 himself that he should immediately return, strictly fulfilling 
 his duty as he should do. But when he saw the French, when 
 he saw Tikhon, and learned that during the night there would 
 infallibly be a raid upon them r he, with the swift transition of 
 VOL. 4. 10.
 
 146 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 youth from one view to another, decided in his own mind that 
 his general, whom till then he had highly respected, was a 
 rubbishy German, that Denisof was a hero, and that the esaul 
 was a hero, and that Tikhon was a hero, and that it would 
 be shameful of him to desert them at such a critical moment. 
 
 It was twilight by the time that Denisof with Petya and the 
 esaul reached the watch-house. Through the twilight could 
 be seen saddled horses, Cossacks, hussars, shelter huts set up on 
 the clearing, and the scattered glow of fires built in the forest 
 ravine, so that the smoke might not betray them to the French. 
 
 In the entry of the little hovel, a Cossack with sleeves rolled 
 up was cutting up mutton. In the izba itself were three offi- 
 cers of Denisof's band constructing a table out of a board. 
 Petya pulled off his wet clothing, giving it to be dried, and 
 immediately offered his services in helping to set the dinner 
 table. 
 
 Within ten minutes the table was ready, and spread with a 
 cloth and loaded with vodka, a bottle of rum, white bread, and 
 roasted mutton and salt. 
 
 Sitting down with the officers at the table, tearing the fat, 
 fragrant mutton with hands from which dripped the tallow, 
 Petya found himself in an enthusiastic, childlike state of affec- 
 tionate love to all men, and consequently of belief that all 
 men felt the same love toward him. 
 
 "Say, what do you think, Vasili Feodorovitch," he asked, 
 turning to Denisof, " should I get into trouble if I staid with 
 you for a single little day ? " And, without waiting for an 
 answer, he went on answering himself, " For you see I was 
 ordered to find out, and I shall find out. Only you must let 
 me join the most the chief I don't want any reward But 
 I want " Petya set his teeth together, and, lifting his head 
 erect, glanced around and waved his hand. 
 
 " The most chief ? " repeated Denisof, smiling. 
 
 " Only please let me have a company ; let me command it 
 myself," pursued Petya. " Now, what difference will it make 
 to you ? Akh ! would you like a knife ? " he asked, turn- 
 ing to an officer who was trying to dissect a slice of mutton. 
 And he handed him his case knife. 
 
 The officer praised the knife. 
 
 " Pray keep it. I have several like it " said Petya, blush- 
 ing. " Ye saints ! I forgot all about it," he suddenly cried. 
 " I have some splendid raisins ; quite without seeds, you 
 know. We had a new sutler, and he brought some magnifi- 
 cent things. I bought ten pounds. I like something sweet.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 147 
 
 Would you like them " ? And Petya ran into the entry to 
 where his Cossack was, and brought back a basket containing 
 five pounds of raisins. "Take them, gentlemen, take them. 
 I wonder if you want a coffee pot ? " he asked, addressing the 
 esaul. " I bought a splendid one of our sutler. He had mag- 
 nificent things. And he was very honest. That is the main 
 thing. I will send it to you without fail. And perhaps you 
 are out of flints ? Do you need some ? Fve got some here " 
 he pointed to his basket "A hundred flints. I bought them 
 very cheap. Take them, I beg of you, as many as you need, 
 take them all " 
 
 And, suddenly frightened lest he was talking too much, 
 Petya stopped short and colored. 
 
 He began to recall whether he had said anything silly, and, 
 while passing the events of the day in review, his mind recurred 
 to the little French drummer. " We are very comfortable here, 
 but how is it with him ? What have they done with him ? 
 Have they given him anything to eat ? I hope they haven't 
 been abusing him," he wondered ; but, recognizing that he had 
 gone too far in his offer with the flints, he was now afraid. 
 
 " Might I ask ? " he queried. " Won't they say, 'He's a boy 
 himself, and of course he pities another boy ' ? But I'll show 
 them to-morrow what kind of a boy I am. Ought I to be 
 ashamed to ask ? " queried Petya. " Well, then, what differ- 
 ence does it make ? " and on the spur of the moment, flushing 
 and giving a timid look at the officers to see whether they 
 would laugh at him, he said, 
 
 " May I call in that lad whom you took prisoner, and give 
 him something to eat ? May I ? " 
 
 " Yes, poor little fellow ! " replied Denisof, evidently seeing 
 nothing to be ashamed of in thus speaking of him. " Call him 
 in. His name is Vincent Bosse. Call him." 
 
 "I'll call him," cried Petya. 
 
 " Call him, call him, poor little fellow ! " said Denisof. 
 
 Petya was already at the door when Denisof said this. Petya 
 made his way among the officers, and swiftly returned to 
 Denisof. 
 
 " Let me kiss you, dear," * said he. " Akh ! how splendid of 
 you ! How kind ! " And, after giving Denisof a hearty kiss, 
 he ran out of doors. 
 
 " Bosse ! Vincent ! " called Petya, standing at the door. 
 
 " Whom do you want, sir ? " asked a voice from the dark- 
 ness. Petya explained that it was the French lad whom they 
 had taken that day. 
 
 * Golubchik.
 
 148 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 " Oh ! Vesennui ? " inquired the Cossack. The lad's name, 
 Vincent, had been already changed by the Cossacks into Ves- 
 ennui,* by the soldiers and muzhiks into Visenya. In each 
 of these variations the reference to Spring seemed to have a 
 special appropriateness to the young lad. 
 
 " He's there by the fire, warming himself. Hey, Visenya ! 
 Visenya ! Vesennui ! " sounded the voices, passing the call 
 on, mingled with laughter. 
 
 " Oh, he's a likely lad," said a hussar standing near Petya. 
 " We fed him anon. He was half starved." 
 
 Steps were heard in the darkness, and the drummer boy, 
 with his bare feet slopping through the mud, came up to the 
 door. 
 
 " Ah, c'est vous" said Petya. Voulez-vous manger ? N'avez 
 paspeur ! On ne vous f era pas de mal. Don't you want some- 
 thing to eat ? Don't be afraid ; they won't hurt you," he 
 added, timidly and cordially, laying his hand on his arm. 
 "Entrez, entrez." 
 
 " Herd, monsieur ! " replied the drummer in a trembling 
 voice, almost like that of a child, and he proceeded to wipe his 
 muddy feet on the threshold. 
 
 Petya felt like saying many things to the drummer, but he 
 dared not. Passing beyond him, he stood next him in the 
 entry. Then in the darkness he seized his hand and pressed 
 it. " Entrez, entrez" he repeated in an encouraging whisper. 
 
 " Akh ! what can I do for him, I wonder ? " Petya asked 
 himself, and, opening the door, he let the lad pass in front of 
 him into the room. 
 
 After the drummer entered the izba Petya sat down at some 
 distance from him, considering it undignified to pay him too 
 much attention. He merely fumbled the money in his pocket, 
 and was in doubt whether it would not be shameful to give it 
 to the drummer boy. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 the drummer, who, by Denisof's direction, was served 
 with vodka and mutton, and dressed in a Russian kaftan, so 
 that he might remain in his band, and not be sent off with the 
 other prisoners, Petya's attention was diverted by Dolokhof's 
 arrival. He had heard much in the army about Dolokhof's 
 phenomenal gallantry and cruelty to the French, and there- 
 * The adjective from Viesnd, Spring.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 149 
 
 fore, from the moment that Dolokhof came in, Petya gazed at 
 him without taking his eyes from him, and held his head high, 
 so as to be worthy even of such society as Dolokhof. 
 
 Dolokhof's outward appearance struck Petya strangely, f?om 
 its studied simplicity. 
 
 While Denisof was dressed in a chekmen or Cossack kaftan, 
 wore a beard, and on his chest a picture of St. Nicholas the 
 Miracle-worker Nikola Chudotvorets and in his manner 
 of speech, in all his ways, manifested the peculiarity of his 
 position, Dolokhof, on the contrary, who had before worn a 
 Persian costume in Moscow, now had the air of a most con- 
 ceited officer of the Guards. 
 
 His face was smooth-shaven, he wore the wadded uniform 
 coat of the Guards, with the " George " in the button-hole, and 
 his forage cap set straight. He removed his wet burka in the 
 corner, and, going directly up to Denisof, without exchanging 
 greetings with any one, immediately proceeded to inquire 
 about the business in hand. 
 
 Denisof told him about the projects which the large detach- 
 ment of troops had formed of attacking their transport-Jrain, 
 and about the message which Petya had brought, and how he 
 had replied to the two generals. 
 
 Then Denisof related all that he knew about the position of 
 the French escort. 
 
 " So far, so good ; but we must know what sort of troops, 
 and how many they are," said Dolokhof. "We must enter 
 their lines. If we don't know exactly how many of them there 
 are, it's no use to attempt the thing. I like to do such busi- 
 ness in good style. Here, I wonder if any of these gentlemen, 
 will go with me into their camp. I have an extra uniform 
 with me." 
 
 "I I I will go with you ! " cried Petya. 
 
 " You are precisely the one who shall not go," said Denisof, 
 turning to Dolokhof. "I would not let him go on any ac- 
 count." 
 
 " That's a great note ! " cried Petya. " Why can't I go ? " 
 
 " Why, because there's no reason why you should." 
 
 " Well, now, you will excuse me because because but I 
 will go ; that's all there is of it ! You will take me, won't 
 you ? " he asked, turning to Dolokhof. 
 
 " Why not ? " replied Dolokhof, absent-mindedly, staring 
 into the face of the French drummer. 
 
 " Have you had this young lad long ? " he asked of Denisof. 
 
 "Took him to-day, but lie knows nothing; I kept him
 
 150 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 " Well, now, what do you do with, the others ? " demanded 
 Dolokhof. 
 
 " What should I do ? I send them in and get a receipt," 
 replied Denisof, suddenly reddening. " And I'll tell you 
 fwankly, that I have not a single man on my conscience. 
 What's the twouble in sending thirty or thwee hundwed 
 under escort to the city ? I tell you honestly it's better than to 
 stain the honor of a soldier." 
 
 " Let this sixteen-year-old countlet have all these fine 
 notions," said Dolokhof, with icy ridicule, " but it's time you 
 gave them up." 
 
 " Well, I say nothing of the sort, I only say that I am cer- 
 tainly going with you," timidly interrupted Petya. 
 
 u Yes, it's high time you and I, brother, gave up these fine 
 notions," insisted Dolokhof, as though he found especial 
 delight in dwelling on this point which was annoying to 
 Denisof. " Now, for instance, why did you keep this one ? " 
 he asked, shaking his head. " Why, it was because you pitied 
 him, wasn't it ? We know well enough what your receipts 
 amount to ! You will send a hundred men, and thirty '11 get 
 there ! They'll die of starvation or be killed. So why isn't 
 it just as well not to take any ? " 
 
 The esaul, snapping his bright eyes, nodded his head in 
 approval. 
 
 " It's all wight ; no need of weasoning about it here. I don't 
 care to take the wesponsibility on my soul. You say they die 
 on the woad. Well and good. Only 'tisn't I who murder 
 'em." 
 
 Dolokhof laughed. " Haven't they been told twenty times 
 to take me ? And if they should or you, either, with all 
 your chivalry, it would be an even game a rope and the 
 aspen-tree ! " He paused. " However, we must to work. 
 Have iny man bring in my pack. I have two French uni- 
 forms. So you are going with me, are you ? " he asked of 
 Petya. 
 
 " I ? I ?. yes, certainly ! " cried Petya, reddening till the 
 tears came, and glancing at Denisof. 
 
 Again at the time while Dolokhof was discussing with 
 Denisof as to what should be done with the prisoners, Petya 
 had that former sense of awkwardness and precipitancy ; but, J 
 again, he did not succeed very well in comprehending what 
 they said. "If grown-up, famous men have such ideas, of 
 course it must be so, it must be all right," he said to himself. 
 (( But the main thing is that Penisof must not think that I am
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 151 
 
 going to listen to him, that he can give orders to me ! Cer- 
 tainly I'm going to the French camp. If he can, of course I 
 can." To all Denisof's urgencies not to go, Petya replied that 
 he was accustomed to do things properly akkurdtno and 
 not at hap-hazard, and he never thought about personal danger. 
 " Because you yourself must acknowledge this if we 
 don't know pretty well how many they are, the lives of hun- 
 dreds of us may depend upon it, while here we are alone 
 and, besides, I am very anxious to do this, and I am certainly, 
 certainly going, and you must not try to keep me from it," 
 said he ; " that would only make it the worse." 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 HAVING put on the French uniforms and shakos, Petya and 
 Dolokhof rode to the vista from which Denisof had recon- 
 noitred the camp, and, emerging from the forest in absolute 
 darkness, they made their way down into the ravine. On 
 reaching the bottom, Dolokhof ordered the Cossack who ac- 
 companied them to wait for them there, and started off at a 
 round trot along the road to the bridge ; Petya, his heart in his 
 mouth with excitement, rode by his side. 
 
 "If we fall into their clutches, I won't give myself up 
 alive ; I have a pistol," whispered Petya. 
 
 " Don't speak in Kussian ! " exclaimed Dolokhof, in a quick 
 whisper, and, at that instant, they heard in the darkness the 
 challenge " Qui vive ? " and the click of the musket. 
 
 The blood rushed into Petya's face, and he grasped his pistol. 
 
 " Landers de 6me," cried Dolokhof, neither hastening nor 
 checking his horse's pace. 
 
 The dark figure of the sentinel stood out upon the bridge. 
 
 "Motd'ordref" 
 
 Dolokhof reined in his horse,. and rode at a foot pace. 
 
 " Tell me is Colonel Gerard here ? " he demanded. 
 
 " The countersign," insisted the sentinel, not answering the 
 question, and blocking the way. 
 
 " When an officer is making his round, the sentinels do not 
 ask the countersign," cried Dolokhof, suddenly losing his 
 temper, and spurring his horse against the sentinel. " I ask 
 
 you if the colonel is here ? " * 
 
 % 
 
 * "Mot d'ordre!" " Dites done, le Colonel Gerard est ici?""Mot 
 d'ordre!" " Quand un officier fait sa ronde, les sentinelles ne demandent 
 pas le mot d'ordre Je voiis demande si le colonel est id."
 
 152 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 And, without waiting for an answer from the sentinel, whom 
 he shouldered out of the way, Dolokhof rode up the slope at a 
 foot pace. 
 
 Perceiving the dark figure of a man crossing the road, 
 Dolokhof halted him, and asked where the commander and 
 the officers were. This man, who had a basket on his shoulder, 
 paused, came close up to Dolokhof's horse, laid his arm on her, 
 and told, in simple, friendly way, that the commander and the 
 officers were higher up on the hill, at the right-hand side, at 
 the " farm," as he called the establishment of the owner of the 
 estate. 
 
 After riding along the road, on both sides of which were the 
 bivouac fires, where they could hear the sounds of men talk- 
 ing French, Dolokhof turned into the yard of the manorial 
 mansion. On riding into the gates, he slid off his horse, and 
 went up to a great blazing camp-fire around which sat a num- 
 ber of men talking loudly. In a kettle at the edge of it, 
 something was cooking, and a soldier in a cap and blue capote 
 was on his knees in front of it, his face brightly lighted by 
 the flames, and was stirring it with his ramrod. " Oh, c'est un 
 dur a cuire He's a tough one at cooking ! " cried one of the 
 officers, who were sitting in the shadow in the opposite side. 
 
 " II fera marcher les lapins He'll make the rabbits fly," 
 said another, with a laugh. Both relapsed into silence, and 
 looked out into the darkness at the sounds of Dolokhof and 
 Petya's footsteps, who came up to the fire, leading their horses. 
 
 " Bonjour, messieurs" cried Dolokhof, in a loud tone, 
 saluting the officers politely. The officers made a little stir 
 in the shadow by the watch-fire, and a tall man with a long 
 neck, coming around the fire, approached Dolokhof. 
 
 " C'est voiiS) Clement ? " he began. " D'oit diable where the 
 deuce ? " but he did not finish his question, recognizing his 
 mistake, and, slightly frowning, he exchanged greetings with 
 Dolokhof, as with a stranger, asking him in what way he 
 might serve him. Dolokhof told him that he and his comrade 
 were in search of their regiment, and, addressing the officers 
 in general, he asked them if they knew anything about the 
 sixth regiment. 
 
 No one knew anything about it, and it seemed to Petya 
 that the officers began to look suspiciously and with animosity 
 at him and Dolokhof. For several seconds all were silent. 
 
 " Si vous comptez sur la soupe du soir, vous venez trap tard 
 f ou are too late if you expect soup this evening," said a voice 
 with a suppressed laugh from behind the fire.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 153 
 
 Dolokhof explained that they were not hungry, and that 
 they had to go still farther that night. He handed over his 
 horse to the soldier who had been busy over the stew, and 
 squatted down on his heels by the fire, next the long-necked 
 officer. This officer stared at Dolokhof, without taking his 
 eyes from him, and asked him for a second time what 
 regiment he belonged to ? 
 
 Dolokhof made no reply, affecting not to hear his question ; 
 and, as he puffed at the short French pipe which he got out of 
 his pocket, he inquired of the officers how far the road in 
 front of them was free from danger of the Cossacks. 
 
 " Les brigands sent partout everywhere ! " replied an offi- 
 cer from the other side of the camp-fire. 
 
 Dolokhof remarked that the Cossacks were dangerous only 
 for those who were alone, as he and his companion were, but 
 that certainly they would not venture to attack a large de- 
 tachment " Would they ? " he added dubiously. 
 
 All the time Petya, who was standing in front of the fire 
 and listening to the conversation, kept saying to himself, 
 ; ' Now surely he will start." 
 
 But Dolokhof once more took up the thread of the conver- 
 sation which had been dropped, and began to ask them up 
 and down how many men there were in their battalion, how 
 many battalions, how many prisoners ? And while asking 
 his questions about the Russian prisoners whom they had in 
 their escort, Dolokhof said, " Wretched business to drag these 
 corpses around with us. We'd much better shoot this trash," '* 
 and he laughed aloud with such a strange laugh that it seemed 
 to Petya as if the French would then and there discover the 
 imposition, and he involuntarily took a step from the fire. 
 
 S"o one responded to Dolokhof's remark or his laugh, and a 
 French officer who till then had not showed himself (he had 
 been lying down wrapped up in his capote) raised himself up 
 and whispered something to his comrade. Dolokhof got up 
 and beckoned to the soldier who held his horse. 
 
 " Will they let us have the horses or not ? " wondered Petya, 
 involuntarily moving nearer to Dolokhof. 
 
 The horses were brought. 
 
 " Bonjour, messieurs," said Dolokhof. 
 
 Petya wanted to say "Bonjour" as well, but he could not 
 pronounce a word. The officers said something among them- 
 selves in a whisper. Dolokhof sat for some time on his horse, 
 
 * "La vilaine affaire de trainer ces cadavres apres so i. Vaudrait mieux 
 fusilier cette canaille."
 
 154 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 which was restive ; then he rode out of the gates at a foot 
 pace. Petya rode after him, wishing, but not daring, to 
 glance around to see if the French were following him or not. 
 
 On striking the road, Dolokhof did not ride back into the 
 fields, but along the village street. In one place he stopped 
 and listened. 
 
 " Hark ! " said he. 
 
 Petya recognized the sound of Russian voices, and saw by 
 the watch-fires the shadowy forms of the Russian prisoners. 
 On reaching the bridge again, Petya and Dolokhof rode past 
 the sentinel, who, not saying a word, was moodily pacing back 
 and forth across the bridge ; and then they plunged into the 
 ravine, where their Cossacks were waiting for them. 
 
 " Well, good-by for now. Tell Denisof at daybreak, at the 
 sound of the first shot," said Dolokhof, and he started to ride 
 away ; but Petya seized him by the arm. 
 
 " Oh," he cried, " you are such a hero. Akh ! how splendid ! 
 how glorious ! HOAV I like you ! " 
 
 "All right, all right!" said Dolokhof, but Petya did not 
 let go of him, and in the darkness Dolokhof could just make 
 out that Petya was leaning over toward him. He wanted to 
 kiss him. Dolokhof kissed him laughingly, and, turning his 
 horse, disappeared in the darkness. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 ON returning to the forest hut, Petya found Denisof in the 
 entry. He had been waiting for him, full of excitement, 
 uneasiness, and self-reproach that he had let him go. 
 
 " Thank God Slava Bohu ! " he cried. " Now, then, 
 thank God ! " he repeated, on hearing Petya's enthusiastic 
 story. " The devil take you. I haven't had a wink of sleep 
 on account of you," exclaimed Denisof. "Well, thank God. 
 Now go and get some sleep. We'll have time for a nap 
 before morning." 
 
 " Yes, but no," said Petya, " I don't want to go to sleep. 
 I know myself too well. If I once get to sleep that's the end 
 of it. And besides, I'm not in the habit of sleeping before a 
 battle." 
 
 Petya sat some time in the izba, gleefully recalling the 
 details of his visit, and vividly picturing what would happen 
 on the morrow. Then observing that Denisof had fallen 
 asleep, he got up and went out of doors. 

 
 WAR AND PEACE. 155 
 
 It was still perfectly dark. It had ceased raining, but the 
 drops were still falling from the trees. Near the hut could 
 be seen the dark forms of the Cossack shelters and their 
 horses picketed together. Behind the hut the dark forms of 
 the two wagons were visible, and next them the horses, and in 
 the gully the dying fire was still glowing red. Not all the 
 Cossacks and hussars were asleep; occasionally could be 
 heard, together with the sound of the pattering drops, and the 
 horses champing their teeth, low voices, which seemed to be 
 whispering together. 
 
 Petya stepped out of the entry, glanced around in the dark- 
 ness, and approached the wagons. Some one was snoring 
 under the wagons, and near them stood the horses saddled 
 and eating oats. 
 
 Petya in the darkness recognized his horse, which he called 
 Karabakh though it was a Little Eussian horse, and he went 
 to him. 
 
 " Well, Karabakh, to-morrow we shall see service," said he, 
 putting his face to the horse's nose, and kissing it. 
 
 " What ! barin, aren't you asleep ? " asked the Cossack sit- 
 ting under the wagon. 
 
 " No, I your name's Likhatchef, * isn't it ? You see I've 
 just come back. We've been to visit the French." 
 
 And Petya gave the Cossack a detailed account, not only of 
 his expedition, but also why he had taken it, and why he con- 
 sidered it much better to risk his own life than to work at 
 hap-hazard. 
 
 " Well, you'd better get some sleep," said the Cossack. 
 
 " No, Fin used to it," replied Petya, " I wonder if you are 
 out of flints for your pistol. I brought some with me. 
 Wouldn't you like some ? Take them ! " 
 
 The Cossack put his head out from under the wagon to get 
 a closer look at Petya. 
 
 " Because I'm used to doing everything carefully akku- 
 rdtno " said Petya. " Some never think of making ready 
 beforehand, and they are sorry for it afterwards. I don't like 
 that way." 
 
 " That's a fact," said the Cossack. 
 
 " I wonder if you'd be kind enough to sharpen my sabre. 
 It got dull " (but Petya could not tell a lie) " it's never been 
 sharpened. Can't you do it for me ? " 
 
 " Why, of course I can." 
 
 Likhatchef got up, fumbled in his pack, and soon Petya 
 * From Likhatch, a good driver of horses. Greek, hippokrates.
 
 156 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 heard the warlike sound of the steel on the stone. He 
 climbed upon the wagon and perched on the edge. The Cos- 
 sack was sharpening the sabre under the wagon, 
 
 " Well, are the boys asleep ? " asked Petya. 
 
 " Some of 'em are asleep, some ain't." 
 
 "Well, how about the lad ? " 
 
 " Who ? Vesennui ? He's crawled into the hay yonder 
 Asleep out of sheer fright. I was glad of it." 
 
 For a long time after that, Petya said nothing, but listened 
 to the various sounds. Steps were heard approaching in the 
 darkness, and a dark form appeared. 
 
 " What are you whetting ? " asked a man, coming, up to the 
 wagon. 
 
 " Whetting this barin's sabre." 
 
 " Good thing," said the man, whom Petya took to be a hus- 
 sar. " I wonder if a cup was left over here with you ? " 
 
 " There it is by the wheel." 
 
 The hussar took the cup. 
 
 " It'll be daylight soon," he added, yawning, and went off. 
 
 Petya might have been supposed to know that he was in 
 the woods with Denisofs party, a verst from the highway, 
 that he was perched on the wagon taken from the French, 
 while around the horses were tethered, and under it sat the 
 Cossack Likhatchef sharpening his sabre, that the great 
 black spot at the right was the guard-house, and the bright 
 red spot below at the left was the dying watch-fire, that the 
 man who came after the cup was a hussar, who wanted a 
 drink ; but he did not realize this, and had no desire to real- 
 ize it. 
 
 He was in a magic realm, in which nothing resembled the 
 reality. 
 
 The great black spot, perhaps, was simply the guard-house, 
 but perhaps it was a cavern leading down into the depths of 
 the earth. 
 
 The red spot, perhaps, was a fire, but perhaps it was the eye 
 of a huge monster. 
 
 Perhaps he was really perched on the wagon, but very pos- 
 sibly he was sitting not on the wagon, but on a terribly high 
 turret, from which, if he fell, it would take him a whole day, 
 a whole month, to reach the earth he might fall forever, 
 and never reach it ! 
 
 Perhaps it was merely the Cossack Likhatchef sitting 
 under the wagon, but very possibly it was the best, kindest, 
 bravest, most glorious, most admirable man in the world, and 
 no one knew it !
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 157 
 
 Perhaps it was merely a hussar who came after water, and 
 went down the ravine ; but perhaps he had disappeared from 
 sight, and vanished absolutely into nothingness. 
 
 Nothing that Petya might have seen at that moment would 
 have surprised him. He was in a magic realm, in which 
 everything was possible. 
 
 He glanced at the sky. And the sky was as magical a 
 thing as the earth. The sky had begun to clear, and over the 
 tree-tops swiftly scurried the clouds, as it were unveiling the 
 stars. Sometimes it seemed as though the sky were clearing, 
 and the black depths of clear sky were coming into sight. 
 Sometimes it seemed as if those black spots were clouds. 
 Sometimes it seemed as if the sky were lifted high, high above 
 his head ; sometimes the sky stooped down absolutely so that 
 his hand could touch it. 
 
 Petya's eyes began to close, and he swayed a little. 
 
 Rain-drops dropped.* Men were talking in low tones. 
 The horses neighed and shook themselves. Some one snored. 
 
 Ozhik, zhik, ozhik, zhik sounded the sabre on the whet- 
 stone ; and suddenly Petya heard a harmonious orchestra 
 playing a solemnly exquisite hymn, which he had never heard 
 before.* 
 
 Petya had a gift for music, just as Natasha had, and greater 
 than Nikolai's, but he had never taken music lessons. His 
 mind was not occupied with music, and consequently the 
 themes that entered his- mind were to him absolutely new and 
 fascinating. 
 
 The orchestra played louder and louder. The air was 
 resolved, transferred from one instrument to another. The 
 result was what is called a fugue, although Petya had not the 
 slightest idea what a fugue was. Each instrument, the one 
 corresponding to the violin, an,d the one corresponding to the 
 horn, only better and purer than violin or horn, each 
 instrument played its own part, and before it had played to 
 the end of the motif, blended with another, which began 
 almost the same way, and then with a third, and with a 
 fourth, and then all of them blended in one, and again sepa- 
 rated, and again blended, now into something solemnly eccle- 
 siastical, now into something brilliant and triumphant. 
 
 " Oh, yes, I must be dreaming," said Petya to himself, as he 
 pitched forward. " It was in my ears. But perhaps it is my 
 music ! Well, then, once more ! Go on, music mine ! Now ! " 
 
 He closed his eyes. And from different directions, as though 
 * Kapli kdpali.
 
 158 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 from a distance, the sounds came trembling, began to fall into 
 rhythmical form, to run into variations, to coalesce, and once 
 more they united in the same sweet and solemn triumphal 
 hymn. 
 
 " Akh ! this is so exquisite. Truly at my beck and call," 
 said Petya to myself. He tried to direct this tremendous 
 orchestra of instruments. 
 
 " Now, more softly, more softly ; let it almost die away ! " 
 And the sounds obeyed him. "Now, then, fuller, more gayly. 
 Still more, still more jollity ! " 
 
 And from the unknown depths arose the triumphant strains 
 in vastly fuller volume. 
 
 '' Now, voices, you come in ! " commanded Petya. And at 
 first far away he heard the voices of men. then of women. 
 The voices grew in regular gradations into solemn power. 
 Petya felt a mixture of terror and joy in recognizing their 
 extraordinary loveliness. 
 
 With the solemn strains of the triumphal march blended 
 the song, and the rain-drops dropped, and with its Vzhik, zhik, 
 zhik, rang the sabre, and again the horses stirred and neighed, 
 though not disturbing the chorus, but rather blending with it. 
 
 Petya knew not how long this lasted : he enjoyed 'it, was 
 all the time amazed at his enjoyment of it, and regretted that 
 there was no one to share it with him. 
 
 He was awakened by Likhatchef s affectionate voice. 
 
 u Ready, your nobility; you can split two Frenchmen* 
 with it." 
 
 Petya aroused himself. 
 
 " It's getting light ; truly it's growing light ! " he cried. 
 
 The horses, before invisible, could now be plainly seen, 
 and through the bare limbs of the forest trees gleamed a 
 watery light. 
 
 Petya shook himself, sprang down, got a silver ruble out of 
 his pocket, and gave it to Likhatchef, and, after brandishing 
 his sword, he examined the blade, and pushed it into the 
 sheath. 
 
 The Cossacks were beginning to untie their horses and 
 tighten their girths. 
 
 " Here is the commander," said Likhatchef. 
 
 From the guard-house came Denisof, and, nodding to Petya, 
 gave orders to get ready. 
 
 * He calls Frantsds, Khrantsus.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 159 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 IN the half-light of the dawn the horses were speedily brought 
 out, saddle-girths were tightened, and the men fell into line. 
 
 Denisof stood by the hut, giving the final directions. The 
 infantry detachment, with their hundreds of feet splashing at 
 once, marched ahead along the road, and soon were hidden 
 from sight among the trees in the dawn-lighted mist. 
 
 The esaul gave some command to his Cossacks. Petya held 
 his horse by the bridle, impatiently awaiting the signal to 
 mount. His face, which had been laved in cold water, and 
 especially his eyes, glowed with fire : a cold shiver ran down 
 his back, and his whole body shook with a rapid, nervous 
 trembling. 
 
 " Well, are you all ready ? " asked Denisof. " To horse ! " 
 
 The horses were brought out. Denisof scolded his Cossack 
 because his saddle-girth was loose, and, after tightening it, he 
 mounted. Petya put his foot in the stirrup. His horse, as 
 was his wont, tried to bite his leg ; but Petya, not conscious of 
 weight, quickly sprang into the saddle, and, looking at the 
 long line of hussars stretching away into the darkness, rode 
 up to Denisof. 
 
 "Vasili Feodorovitch, you'll give me some charge, won't 
 you ? Please for God's sake ! " said he. Denisof seemed 
 to have forgotten about Petya's existence. He glanced at him. 
 
 " I'll ask you one thing," said he severely, " to obey me and 
 to mind your own business." 
 
 During all the march Denisof said not a word further to 
 Petya, and rode in silence. 
 
 When they reached the edge of the forest the morning light 
 was spreading over the fields. Denisof held a whispered con- 
 sultation with the esaul, as the Cossacks rode past Petya and 
 him. When they had all filed by, Denisof turned his horse 
 and rode down the slope. The horses, sitting back on their 
 haunches, and sliding, let themselves and their riders down 
 into the ravine. Petya rode by Denisof 's side. The trembling 
 over his whole frame had greatly increased. 
 
 It was growing lighter and lighter. Only distant objects 
 were concealed as yet in the fog. On reaching the bottom, 
 Denisof, after glancing back, nodded to a Cossack standing 
 near him. 
 
 V The signal/' he cried.
 
 160 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 The Cossack raised his hand. A shot rang out, and at the 
 same instant they heard the trampling hoofs of the horses 
 simultaneously dashing forward, and yells in different direc- 
 tions, and more shots. 
 
 At the instant that the first sounds of the trampling hoofs 
 and the yells broke upon the silence, Petya, giving a cut to 
 his horse, and letting him have full rein, galloped forward, 
 not heeding Denisof, who called him back. 
 
 It seemed to Petya that at the moment he heard the musket- 
 shot it suddenly became perfectly light, like midday. He gal- 
 loped upon the bridge. In front of him, along the road, the 
 Cossacks were dashing ahead. On the bridge he knocked up 
 against a Cossack who had been left behind, but still he gal- 
 loped on. In front of him he saw some men they must be 
 the French running from the right side of the road to the 
 left. One fell in the mud under the feet of Petya's horse. 
 
 Around one izba a throng of Cossacks were gathered doing 
 something. From the midst of the throng arose a terrible 
 shriek. Petya galloped up to this throng, and the first thing 
 that he saw was a Frenchman's white face, his lower jaw 
 trembling. He was clutching the shaft of a lance directed at 
 his breast. 
 
 " Hurrah ! boys. Ours ! " yelled Petya, and, giving free rein 
 to his excited horse, he flew up the street. 
 
 In front of him shots were heard. Cossacks, hussars, and 
 tattered Russian prisoners, running from both sides of the road, 
 were incoherently shouting something at the top of their voices. 
 A rather youthful Frenchman, without his cap, and with a red, 
 scowling face, in a blue capote, was defending himself with 
 his bayonet from the hussars. 
 
 When Petya reached there he was already fallen. 
 
 " Too late again ! " flashed through Petya's head, and he 
 dashed off where the shots were heard the thickest. This was 
 in the yard of the manor-house, where he had been the night 
 before with Dolokhof. The French had intrenched themselves 
 behind the hedge and in the park, where the bushes had grown 
 up dense and wild, and they were firing at the Cossacks cluster- 
 ing around the gates. On reaching the gates, Petya, through 
 the gunpowder smoke, saw Dolokhof, with a pale greenish 
 face, shouting something to his men. 
 
 " At their flank ! Infantry, wait ! " he was yelling, just as 
 Petya rode up. 
 
 " Wait ? Hurra-a-a-a-ah ! " yelled Petya ; and he, without 
 waiting a single instant, rode up into the very place where the
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 161 
 
 shots were heard, and where the gunpowder smoke was densest. 
 A volley rang out ; the bullets fell thick and fast, and did their 
 work. The Cossacks and Dolokhof followed Petya through 
 the gates. The Frenchmen could be seen through the thick, 
 billowing smoke, some throwing down their arms and coming 
 out from behind the bushes to meet the Cossacks, others run- 
 ning down the slope to the pond. 
 
 Petya still rode his horse at a gallop around the manor-house 
 dvor, but, instead of guiding him by the bridle, he was waving 
 both his hands in the strangest, wildest manner, and was lean- 
 ing more and more to one side of the saddle. His horse, com- 
 ing on the camp-fire, which was smouldering in the morning 
 light, stopped short, and Petya fell heavily on the wet ground. 
 The Cossacks saw his arms and legs twitch, although his head 
 was motionless. A bullet had entered his brain. 
 
 Dolokhof, after a moment's conversation with an old French 
 officer, who came out of the house with a handkerchief on his 
 sword, and explained that they surrendered, dismounted and 
 went to Petya, lying there motionless, with outstretched 
 arms. 
 
 " Done up," he said, scowling ; and he went to the gates to 
 meet Denisof, who was coming to meet him. 
 
 " Killed !" cried Denisof, seeing, while still at a distance, 
 the unquestionably hopeless position, only too well known to 
 him, in which Petya's* body lay. 
 
 " Done up," repeated Dolokhof, as though the repetition of 
 this word gave him some satisfaction ; and he hastened to the 
 prisoners, around whom the Cossacks were crowding. " We 
 can't take him," he called back to Denisof. 
 
 Denisof made no reply. He rode up to Petya, dismounted, 
 and with trembling hands turned Petya over, looked at his 
 face, already turned pale, and stained with blood and mud. 
 
 " I like something sweet. Splendid raisins, take them all," 
 occurred to him. And the Cossacks, with amazement, looked 
 around as they heard the sound, like the barking of a dog, with 
 which Denisof quickly turned away, went to the hedge, and 
 clutched it. 
 
 Among the Russian prisoners released by Denisof and Do! 
 okhof was Pierre Bezukhoi 
 
 VOL. 4. 11.
 
 162 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 CONCERNING the party of prisoners to which Pierre belonged 
 at the time of the general exodus from Moscow, the French 
 commanders had made no new dispensation. 
 
 On the third of November this party found itself with a dif- 
 ferent escort and with a different train of wagons from the one 
 with which they had left Moscow. 
 
 One half of the provision train, which had followed them 
 during the "first stages of the march, had been captured by the 
 Cossacks ; the other half had gone on ahead. The cavalrymen 
 without horses, who had marched in the van, had every one 
 disappeared : not one was left. The artillery, which during 
 the first stages had been visible in front of them, was now re- 
 placed by Marshal Junot's huge baggage-wagons, under the 
 escort of Westphalians. Behind the prisoners rode a train of 
 cavalry appurtenances. 
 
 After leaving Viazma the French troops, which before had 
 marched in three columns, now proceeded all in confusion. 
 The symptoms of disorder which Pierre had observed in the 
 first halting-place out of Moscow had now reached its very 
 acme. The road along which they had passed was strewn on 
 both sides with dead horses. Ragged men, stragglers from the 
 different commands, constantly shifting about, now joined, then 
 again fell out of, the moving columns. 
 
 Several times during the march there were false alarms, 
 and the soldiers of the convoy raised their muskets, fired 
 them, and ran headlong, pushing one another ; but then again 
 they would form and revile each other for the needless panic. 
 
 These three divisions which proceeded in company the 
 cavalry stores (depot), the detachment of the wounded and 
 Junot's baggage still constituted a separate and complete 
 body, but each of them was rapidly melting away. 
 
 In the department, to which at firsb one hundred and twenty 
 teams belonged, now remained no more than sixty ; the rest 
 were captured or abandoned. A number of wagons of Junot's 
 train had also been left behind and captured. Three teams 
 had been rifled by stragglers from Davoust's corps. 
 
 From the talk of the Germans, Pierre gathered that this 
 train was more strongly guarded than that of the prisoners, 
 and that one of their comrades, a German soldier, had been 
 shot by order of the marshal himself because he had been
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 163 
 
 found with a silver spoon belonging to the marshal in his 
 possession. 
 
 The number of prisoners had melted away more than any 
 of the three divisions. Out of three hundred and thirty men 
 who left Moscow, now less than one hundred remained. The 
 prisoners were more of a care to the soldiers of the convoy 
 than were the saddles of the cavalry stores or than Junot's 
 baggage. 
 
 The saddles and Junot's spoons, they understood, might be 
 of some advantage to some one ; but for cold and hungry 
 soldiers to stand guard and watch over Russians who were 
 likewise cold and hungry, and who died and were abandoned 
 on the way, whom they were commanded to shoot down, this 
 was not only incomprehensible, but even repulsive. 
 
 And the men of the convoy, as though fearful that in the 
 cruel position in which they found themselves they should 
 give way to the real feeling of pity which they felt for the 
 prisoners, and thus make their own condition harder, treated 
 them with peculiar gruffness and severity. 
 
 At Dorogobuzh, while the soldiers of the convoy went off 
 to plunder some of their own stores, and locked the prisoners 
 in a barn, several of the Russian soldiers dug out under the 
 walls and escaped, but they were caught by the French and shot. 
 
 The order which had been observed on the departure from 
 Moscow, of keeping the officers from the other prisoners, had 
 for some time been disregarded : all those who could march 
 went together, and Pierre after the third inarch was again 
 brought into the company of Karatayef and the short-legged 
 pink dog, which had chosen Karatayef as her master. 
 
 Karatayef, on the third day out from Moscow, had a relapse 
 of the same fever from which he had suffered in the Moscow 
 hospital, and as he grew worse Pierre avoided him. He knew 
 not why it was, but from the time that Karatayef began to 
 fail, Pierre found himself obliged to exercise great self-control 
 to be near him. And when he approached him, and heard the 
 low groans which he kept up all the time when they were in 
 camp, and smelt the odor which now more powerfully than 
 ever exhaled from Karatayef, Pierre avoided him as far as 
 possible, and kept him out of his mind. 
 
 While a prisoner in the balagan, Pierre was made aware, 
 not by his reason, but by his whole being, by life, that man 
 is created for happiness, that happiness is in himself, in the 
 satisfaction of the simple needs of humanity, and that all 
 unhappiness arises, not from lack, but from superfluity.
 
 164 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 But now, during these last three weeks of the march JLQ 
 had learned still another new and consoling truth he had 
 learned that there is nothing terrible in the world. He had 
 learned that just as there was no position in the world in which 
 a man would be happy and absolutely free, so also there 
 was no position in which a man would be unhappy and 
 unfree. 
 
 He had learned that suffering has its limits, and that 
 freedom has its limits, and that these limits are ver;y near 
 together; that the man who suffered because one leaf on his 
 bed of roses was crumbled, suffered just as much as he now 
 suffered sleeping on the cold, damp ground, one side roasting, 
 the other freezing ; that when he used to wear his dancing- 
 pumps too tight, he suffered just as much as he suffered now 
 in going bare-footed, his shoes were entirely worn out, 
 with his feet covered with sores. 
 
 He had learned that when he, as it seemed to him by his 
 own free will, married his wife, he was not really any more 
 free than now, when he was shut up for the night in the 
 barn. , 
 
 Of all that which he afterwards called sufferings, but which 
 at the time he scarcely felt, the worst was from his bare, 
 bruised, scurvy-scarred feet. (The horse-flesh was palatable 
 and nourishing, the saltpetre odor of the gunpowder which 
 they used instead of salt was even pleasant ; the weather was 
 not very cold ; in the daytime while marching it was even 
 hot, but at night they had bivouac fires ; the vermin which 
 fed upon him warmed his body.) The one thing hard at that 
 time was the state of his feet. 
 
 On the second day of the retreat, Pierre, examining his soies 
 by the fire, felt that it was impossible to take another step on 
 them ; but when all got up, he went along treading gingerly, 
 and afterwards, when he was warmed to it, he Avalked without 
 pain, though when evening came it was more terrible than 
 ever to look at his feet. But he did not look at them, and 
 turned his thoughts to other things. 
 
 Now for the first time Pierre realized all man's power of 
 vitality, and the- saving force of abstracting the attention, 
 which, like the safety valve in the . steam-engine, lets off the 
 excess of steam as soon as the pressure exceeds the normal. 
 
 He saw not and heard not how the prisoners who straggled 
 were shot down, although more than a hundred had perished 
 in this way. He thought not of Karatayef, who grew weaker 
 every day, and was evidently fated to suffer the same lot.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 165 
 
 Still less Pierre thought of himself. The more trying his 
 position, the more appalling the future, the more disconnected 
 with the position in which he found himself, the more joy- 
 ful and consoling were the thoughts, recollections, and visions 
 which came to him. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 AT noon of the third, Pierre was climbing up a muddy, 
 slippery hill, looking at his feet and at the inequalities of the 
 road. 
 
 Occasionally his eyes glanced at the familiar throng around 
 him, and then back to his feet again. Both the one and the 
 other were peculiarly connected with his individual impres- 
 sions. 
 
 The pink, bandy-legged Sierui was frolicking by the side of 
 the road, occasionally lifting up her hind leg, as a sign of her 
 agility and jollity, flying along on three legs, and then again 
 on all four darting off to bark at the crows, which were feast- 
 ing on the carrion. Sierui was more frolicksome and in better 
 condition than she had been in Moscow. On all sides lay the 
 flesh of various animals men as well as horses in various 
 degrees of putrefaction, and the constant passing of people did 
 not permit of the wolves approaching, so that Sierui was able 
 to get all that she wanted to eat. 
 
 It had been raining since morning, and if for a moment it 
 seemed that it was passing over and the skies were going to 
 clear, instantly after such a short respite the downpour would 
 be heavier than ever. The road was perfectly soaked and 
 could not absorb any more water, and little brooks ran along 
 the ruts. 
 
 Pierre plodded along, looking at one side, counting his steps 
 by threes, and doubling down his fingers. Apostrophizing the 
 rain, he kept repeating mentally, " Rain, rain, please not come 
 again." * 
 
 It seemed to him that he was not thinking of anything ; but 
 in the depths of his mind, remote, there were grave and com- 
 forting thoughts. They were the direct spiritual outcome of 
 his yesterday evening's conversation with Karatayef. 
 
 The evening before, while they were halting for the night, 
 
 after half freezing at a fire that had gone out, Pierre got up 
 
 and went over to a neighboring camp-fire that was. burning 
 
 * "tfu ka, nu ka, yeshchtf, yeshcfa),
 
 166 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 more brightly. Near this fire to which Pierre went, Platon 
 was sitting, with his head wrapped up in his cloak as though 
 it were a chasuble, and was telling the soldiers, in his fluent, 
 agreeable, but weak and ailing voice, a story which Pierre had 
 often heard. 
 
 It was already after midnight. This was the time that 
 Karatayef usually recovered from his paroxysms of fever, and 
 became peculiarly lively. 
 
 On approaching the camp-fire and hearing Platon's weak, 
 ailing voice, and seeing his yellow face brightly lighted up by 
 the tire-light, Pierre's heart reproached him. He was alarmed 
 by his feeling of pit} 7 for the man, and wanted to go away ; but 
 there was no other camp-fire, and Pierre sat down by the 
 bivouac fire, and tried not to look at Platon. 
 
 " Well, how is your health ? " he asked. 
 
 " Health ? Even if you weep for illness, God does not send 
 death," said Karatayef, and instantly resumed the story he 
 was telling. 
 
 " So, then, my dear brothers," Platon went on, with a smile 
 illumining his thin, pale face, and with a gleam of peculiar 
 delight in his eyes, " so, then, my dear brothers " 
 
 Pierre had heard this story a long time before ; Karatayef 
 had related it half a dozen times to him alone, and always with 
 a peculiar feeling of pleasure. But, well as Pierre knew it, he 
 now listened to it as though it were something new, and that 
 genial enthusiasm which Karatayef evidently felt in relating 
 it communicated itself to Pierre. 
 
 It was the story of an old merchant who lived a moral, God- 
 fearing life with his family, and who once set out with a friend 
 S)f his, a rich merchant, 011 a pilgrimage to the shrine of St. 
 Makarii. 
 
 They put up one night at an inn, and the two merchants 
 retired to bed ; and the next morning, the merchant's com- 
 panion was found robbed and with his throat cut. The bloody 
 knife was found under the old merchant's pillow. The old 
 merchant was tried, knouted, and after his nostrils had been 
 slit "as was proper according to the law," said Karatayef 
 was sent to hard labor. 
 
 " So, then, my brothers," it was at this place that Pierre 
 had interrupted Platon's story, " ten years or more passed. 
 The good old man lives in the mines. He submits as in duty 
 bound ; never does any one any harm. Only he prays to God 
 to let him die. Very good. One time the convicts were gath- 
 ered together it was night just as if it had been you and I,
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 167 
 
 and the good old man was with 'em. And they were telling each 
 other what they had been punished for, and of what they were 
 guilty before God. They began to confess, one that he had 
 murdered a man ; * another, two ; a third that he had set a 
 house on fire ; another that he had been a deserter, and so on. 
 Then they began to ask the old man : 'And you, grandsire, 
 what are you being punished for ? ' 'I, my dear friends,' f 
 says he, 'am punished for my own sins, and for the sins of 
 others. I never killed a soul, I never stole from any one ; 
 instead, I used to give to any needy brother. I, my dear 
 friends, was a merchant, and I had a large property.' And so 
 on and so on, he tells the whole story, of course, just as it hap- 
 pened. 'I don't complain,' says he. 'Of course, God did it 
 to search m. Only,' says he, ' I am sorry for my old woman 
 and my children.' And then the old man began to cry. It 
 happened the very man who had murdered the merchant, you 
 know, was there in that company. ' Where was it, grand- 
 sire, it happened ? When ? What month ? ' He asked all 
 about it. His heart stung him. And so he goes up to the old 
 man and falls at his feet. 'You were punished all on my 
 account, you good old man,' says he. ' That's the truth, the 
 honest truth. It's a fact, boys ; .t this man is innocent, and 
 ha been punished for my crime,' says he. ' I did it myself,' 
 says he, ' and I put the knife under your pillow while you was 
 asleep. Forgive me, grandsire,' says he, 'for Christ's sake !'" 
 
 Karatayef paused, joyously smiling, and as he gazed into the 
 fire he straightened the. logs. 
 
 "And the good old man says, 'God will forgive you, but we 
 are all of us,' says he, ' sinners before God. I suffer for your 
 sin.' He wept bitter tears. And what think you, friends," 
 exclaimed Karatayef, with a radiant, beatific smile lighting 
 his face more and more, as though what he had now to relate 
 included the main charm and all the significance of the story, 
 " what think you, friends ! this murderer revealed the whole 
 thing to the authorities. ' I,' says he, ' I have killed six souls ' 
 (he was a great villain !), ' but what I regret more than all is 
 this good old man. Let him not weep any longer on my 
 account.' He explained the whole matter ; they took it down, 
 sent off the paper in proper shape. It's a long way off, and 
 it was a long time before the matter was decided, and before 
 all the papers were written as they had to be, as it always is 
 with the authorities. It reached the tsar. And then came 
 
 * Dusha, a soul. \ Rebyatushki, little children, 
 
 t Brdtsui moi milenkiye (brothers mine dear). Sokdhk, a hawk.
 
 168 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 the ukase : ' Let the merchant go ; give him a present, what- 
 ever they may decide.' The document came ; they tried to 
 find the poor old man. Where is the poor old man who was 
 innocent and suffered so long ? A document has come from 
 the tsar. They began to search for him." Karatayef's lower 
 jaw trembled. "But God had forgiven him he was dead. 
 That was the way of it, friends," * concluded Karatayef, and 
 for a long time he sat looking into the fire, with a smile on his 
 lips. 
 
 It was not so much this story itself, but its mysterious 
 meaning, that solemn joy which irradiated Karatayef's face 
 as he related it, the mysterious significance of this joy, which 
 filled Pierre's soul with a vague sense of joy. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 " A vos places ! " suddenly cried a voice. 
 
 A glad stir and expectation of something good and solemn 
 awoke among the prisoners and convoy. On all sides were 
 heard shouts of command, and at the left suddenly appeared 
 handsomely dressed cavalrymen, trotting by the prisoners, on 
 handsome horses. All faces wore that expression of ten- 
 sion which is usually seen when important personages 'are 
 expected. 
 
 The prisoners were collected and pushed out of the road ; 
 the soldiers formed in line. 
 
 " U empereur ! Vempereur! Le marechalf Le due ! " and 
 as soon as the plump horses of the mounted escort dashed by, 
 a coach drawn by six gray steeds thundered past. Pierre, as 
 by a flash, caught sight of the calm, handsome, plump but 
 pale face of a man in a tricorne. 
 
 This was one of the marshals. 
 
 The marshal's eye rested on Pierre's rotund, noticeable fig- 
 ure, and the expression with which the marshal scowled and 
 turned away his face made it evident to Pierre that he felt 
 sympathy and wanted to hide it. 
 
 The general in charge of the division galloped after the 
 carriage, with a red, frightened face, spurring on his lean 
 horse. Several officers gathered together ; the soldiers 
 pressed around them. All faces wore an expression of excite- 
 ment and tension. 
 
 * There is a variant of this same story, told by Count Tolstoi for children. 
 See " A Long Exile " (T. Y. Crowell & Co.).
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 169 
 
 " Qu'est-ce qiCil a dit? qu'est-ce qu'il a dit? What did lie 
 say ? " Pierre heard them asking. 
 
 While the marshal had been passing, the prisoners had been 
 gathered in a clump, and Pierre noticed Karatayef, whom he 
 had not seen since early that morning. Karatayef in his 
 short cloak was leaning up against a birch-tree. While his 
 face still bore that expression of joyful emotion which it had 
 had the evening before, when telling the story of the mer- 
 chant's unmerited punishment, it was lighted up by an expres- 
 sion of gentle solemnity. 
 
 Karatayef looked at Pierre out of his kindly round eyes, 
 which were now full of tears, and he seemed to be calling him 
 to him, as though he wanted to say something. But Pierre 
 felt quite too terribly about himself. He affected not to see 
 him, and hastened away. 
 
 W T hen the prisoners were set on their march again, Pierre 
 glanced back. Karatayef was sitting by the edge of the 
 road, under the birch-tree, and two Frenchmen were discuss- 
 ing about something over him. Pierre did not look longer. 
 He passed on his way, limping up the hill. 
 
 From the place where Karatayef had been left behind, the 
 report of a musket-shot was heard. Pierre distinctly heard 
 this report, but at the instant that he heard it he recollected 
 that he had not finished his calculation how many stages 
 there were to Smolensk, a calculation in which he had been 
 interrupted by the arrival of the marshal. And he began to 
 count. 
 
 The two French soldiers, one of whom held the smoking 
 musket which he had just discharged, ran past Pierre. Both 
 of them were pale, and in the expression of their faces one 
 of them looked timidly at Pierre there was something that 
 reminded him of the young soldier who had been executed. 
 
 Pierre looked at this soldier, and remembered how this 
 private, a few days before they had started, had burned his 
 shirt as he was drying himself by the camp-fire, and how 
 they had made sport of him. 
 
 The dog staid behind, and was howling around the place 
 where Karatayef was. 
 
 " What a fool ! what is she barking about ? " Pierre 
 exclaimed inwardly. 
 
 The soldiers, Pierre's comrades, walking in file with him, 
 like him did not look back to the place where first the shot 
 and then the howl of the dog was heard, but a stern expres- 
 sion lay on all their faces.
 
 170 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 CHAPTEE XV. 
 
 THE provision train and the prisoners and the marshal's 
 baggage-wagons were halting at Shamshevo. All gathered in 
 groups around the watch-fires. Pierre went to a camp-fire, 
 and, after eating some roasted horse-flesh, lay down with his 
 back to the fire and instantly fell asleep. He slept the same 
 kind of sleep which he had slept at Mozhaisk after Borodino. 
 
 Once more real events mingled with visions, and once more 
 some one, either himself or some other person, uttered 
 thoughts, even the same thoughts which had been spoken to 
 him at Mozhaisk. 
 
 " Life is everything. Life is God. Everything changes 
 and is in a state of flux, and this movement is God. And as 
 long as there is life, there is enjoyment of the self-conscious- 
 ness of the Divinity. To love 'life is to love God. More dif- 
 ficult and more blessed than all else is it to love this life in 
 its sufferings, in undeserved sufferings." 
 
 " Karatayef ! " it occurred to Pierre. 
 
 And suddenly there seemed to be standing before Pierre, as 
 though alive, a dear little old man, long forgotten, who in 
 Switzerland had taught Pierre geography. 
 
 "Wait," said the little man. And he showed Pierre a 
 globe. This globe was a living, rolling ball, and had no natu- 
 ral divisions. The whole surface of the globe consisted of 
 drops closely squeezed together. And these drops were all 
 in motion, changing about, sometimes several coalescing into 
 one, sometimes one breaking up into many. Each drop tried 
 to expand, to occupy as much space as possible ; but others, 
 striving for the same end, crushed it, sometimes annihilated 
 it, sometimes coalesced with it. 
 
 " Such is life," said the little old teacher. 
 
 " How simple and how clear," thought Pierre. " Why is it 
 I never knew this before ? " 
 
 " In the centre is God, and each drop strives to spread out, 
 expand, so as to reflect him in the largest possible propor- 
 tions. And each expands, and coalesces, and is pressed down, 
 and is to all outward appearance annihilated, and sinks into 
 the depths and comes out again." 
 
 " That was the case with Karatayef : he overflowed and 
 vanished." 
 
 " Vous avez compris, mon enfant)" said the teacher.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 171 
 
 " Vous avez compris ! Sacre norm ! Do you understand ? 
 The devil take you ! " cried a voice, and Pierre awoke. 
 
 He sat up. Squatting on his heels by the camp-fire sat a 
 Frenchman who had just been pushing away a Russian sol- 
 dier, and was now broiling a piece of meat stuck on a ram- 
 rod. His muscular, red hand, covered with hairs, with short 
 fingers, .was skilfully twirling the ramrod. His cinnamon- 
 colored, scowling face and knitted brows could be clearly seen 
 in the light of the coals. 
 
 " POL lui est lien egal It's all the same to him," he 
 growled out, addressing the soldier standing near him. " Bri- 
 gand! Va!" And the soldier, twirling the ramrod, glared 
 gloomily at Pierre. Pierre turned away and gazed into the 
 darkness. 
 
 A Russian soldier, one of the prisoners, the very same 
 whom the Frenchman had pushed away, was sitting by the 
 fire and was patting something with his hand. Looking 
 closer, Pierre recognized that it was the little bandy-legged 
 pink dog, which was wagging her tail as she crouched down 
 next the soldier. 
 
 " Ah ? She's come, has she ? " said Pierre, "but Plat " 
 he began, but did not finish the name. Suddenly in his 
 imagination all blended together, the recollection of the 
 look which Platon had given him as he sat under the tree, 
 the shot which he had heard at that same place, the howling 
 of the dog, the guilty faces of the two Frenchmen who 
 hastened past him, the empty, smoking musket, Karatayef left 
 behind at that halting-place, and this now made him realize 
 that Platon was dead, but at the same instant, suggested by 
 God knows what, there arose in his mind the recollection of 
 an evening that he had spent in company with a Polish beauty 
 one summer, on the balcony of his mansion at Kief. And, 
 nevertheless, without making any effort to co-ordinate his 
 recollections, and drawing no conclusions from them, Pierre 
 closed his eyes, and the vision of the summer scene mingled 
 with his recollections of bathing, of the fluid,, rolling globe, 
 and he seemed to be sinking in water, so that the water went 
 over his head. 
 
 Before sunrise he was wakened by loud and frequent firing 
 and shouts. The French were flying past him. 
 
 " Les Cosaques ! " cried one of them, and in a moment 
 Pierre was surrounded by a throng of Russians. 
 
 It was some time before Pierre could realize what had hap-
 
 172 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 pened to him. On all sides he heard the joyful vociferations 
 of his comrades. " Brothers ! comrades ! friends ! " shouted 
 old soldiers, and burst into tears as they embraced Cossacks 
 and hussars. Cossacks and hussars surrounded the prisoners 
 and made haste to offer them some clothes, some shoes, some 
 bread. 
 
 Pierre stood in the midst of them, sobbing, and could not 
 speak a word. He threw his arms around the first soldier 
 whom he met and kissed him weeping. 
 
 * Dolokhof stood at the gates of the dilapidated mansion, 
 watching the throng of the disarmed French file past him. 
 The Frenchmen, excited by all that had occurred, were talking 
 loudly among themselves ; but when they passed Dolokhof, 
 who stood lightly flecking his boots with his nagaika, or short 
 whip, and wa.tched them with his cool, glassy glance, that 
 boded them nothing good, their voices were hushed. On the 
 other side stood Dolokhof's Cossack and counted the prisoners, 
 scoring them in hundreds on the gate with a bit of chalk. 
 
 " How many ? " asked Dolokhof of the Cossack who was 
 counting the prisoners. 
 
 " Into the second hundred," replied the Cossack. 
 
 " Filez, filez ! Step on, step on ! " exclaimed Dolokhof, 
 who had learned this expression of the French ; and as his 
 eyes met those of the prisoners who filed past, they lighted 
 with a cruel gleam. 
 
 Denisof, with a gloomy face, walked bare-headed behind the 
 Cossacks who were carrying the body of Petya Eostof to a 
 grave which they had dug in the garden. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 AFTER the ninth of November, when hard frosts began, the 
 flight of the French assumed a still more tragic character 
 because of the- many who perished of the cold or were burned 
 to death at the camp-fires, while the emperor, kings, and 
 dukes continued to pursue their homeward way wrapped in 
 furs and riding in carriages, and carrying the treasure that 
 they had stolen. 
 
 But in its real essence the process of flight and dissolution 
 of the army had not really changed. 
 
 From Moscow to Viazma the seventy -three thousand com- 
 posing the French army, not counting the Guard, which
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 173 
 
 throughout the whole war had done nothing except pillage, - 
 the seventy-three thousand of the army were reduced to thirty- 
 six thousand. Out of the number lost, not more than five 
 thousand perished in battle. This is the first term of a pro- 
 gression whereby, with mathematical accuracy, the succeeding 
 terms are determined. 
 
 The French army melted away and was destroyed in the 
 same proportion from Moscow to Viazma, from Viazma to 
 Smolensk, from Smolensk to the Beresina, from the Beresina 
 to Vilno, independently of the greater or less degree of cold, 
 the pursuit of the Russians, the obstruction of the road, and 
 all other conditions taken singly. 
 
 After Viazma, the French armies, instead of marching in 
 three columns, went in one crowd, and thus proceeded to the 
 end. 
 
 Berthier wrote to his sovereign (it is well known how far 
 commanders allow themselves to depart from the truth in 
 describing the position of their armies). He wrote : 
 
 " I think it my duty to acquaint your majesty with the condition of 
 the troops in the different army corps that I have observed during these 
 last three days in the various stages. They are almost disbanded. Less 
 than a fourth of the soldiers remain under the standards, at most. This 
 proportion holds in nearly all the regiments. The others are straggling off 
 by themselves in different directions, trying to find provisions and to escape 
 from discipline. All of them look to Smolensk as the place where they 
 will retrieve themselves. During the last few days many soldiers have been 
 noticed throwing away their cartridges and muskets. In this condition of 
 things, the interests of your majesty's service require that, whatever your 
 ultimate plans may be, the army should be rallied at Smolensk, and rid of 
 non-combatants, of unmounted cavalrymen, of superfluous baggage, and 
 of a portion of the artillery, since it is no longer in proportion to^the effec- 
 tive of the army. Moreover, the soldiers require some days of rest and 
 supplies of food, for they are worn out by hunger and fatigue; many in 
 the last few days have died on the road or in bivouac. This state of 
 things is constantly growing worse, and there is danger that, if remedies 
 are not promptly applied, the troops could not be controlled in case of 
 battle. November 9, at thirty verstsfrom Smolensk." 
 
 * "Je crois devoir faire connaitre a votre majesU Vetat de ses troupes dans 
 les differents corps d'armee quefai et6 a meme d'observer depuis deux ou trois 
 jours dans differents passages. Elles sont presque debande'es. Le nombre 
 des soldats qui suivent les drapeaifx est en proportion du quart au plus dans 
 presque tons les regiments, les autres marchant isolement dans differents 
 directions et pour leur compte, dans I'espe'rance de trouver des subsistances et 
 pour se de'barrasser de la discipline. En general Us regardent Smolensk 
 comme la point ou Us doivent se refaire. Ces derniers jours on a remarque 
 que beaucoup de soldats jettent leurs cartouches et leurs armes. Dans cette 
 4tat de choses, I'interet du service de votre majeste exige, quelles que soient ses 
 vues ulterieures, qu'on rallie I'armee a Smolensk en commencant a la debar- 
 rasser des non-combattants, tels que hommes demontes et des bagages inutiles
 
 174 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 Rushing into Smolensk, which was to them like the prom- 
 ised land, the French fought with one another for food, pil- 
 laged their own stores, and when everything had been 
 plundered they hurried on. 
 
 All fled, not knowing Avhither or why ; and Napoleon, with 
 all his genius, knew less than others why they did so, for no 
 one ordered him to fly. 
 
 But, nevertheless, he arid those around him observed their 
 old habits : wrote orders, letters, reports, ordres die jour, and 
 they addressed one another as 'Sire, Man Cousin, Prince 
 cFEckmuhl, Roi de Naples, etc. But these orders and reports 
 were only on paper; nothing was done according to them, 
 because they could no longer be carried out ; and though they 
 continued to call each other Majesty, Highness, and Cousin, 
 they all felt that they were miserable wretches, who had done 
 much evil, and that expiation had begun. And, though they 
 pretended to be very solicitous about the army, each of them 
 thought only of himself and how he might get off and escape 
 as speedily as possible. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE actions of the Russian and French troops during the 
 retreat from Moscow to the Niemeii were like the game of 
 zhmiirki, or blind-man's-buff, where the two players have their 
 eyes bandaged, and one of them rings a bell from time to 
 time, to call the attention of the " catcher." 
 
 At first, the one who is to be caught sounds his bell without 
 fear of the enemy ; but when the pursuer is coining close to him, 
 he seeks to evade his pursuer by going noiselessly, and often, 
 when he thinks he is escaping, he runs directly into his arms, 
 
 At first Napoleon's troops let themselves be heard from 
 this was during the first period of their movement on the 
 Kaluga road; but afterwards, when they had gone back to 
 the Smolensk road, holding the clapper of the bell, they fled, 
 and, while believing that they were escaping, they ran right 
 into the enemy. 
 
 et du materiel de Vartillerie qui n'est plus en proportion avec les forces 
 actitelles. En outre les jours de repos, des subsistances sont necessaires aux 
 soldats qui sont extenues par la f aim et la fatir/ue ," beaucoup sont morts ces 
 derniers jours sur la route et dans les bivacs. Get etat de choses va toujours 
 en auymentant et donne lieu de craindre que si Von riy prete un prompt re- 
 mede, on ne soitplus maitre des troupes dans un combat. Le 9 Novembre, a 
 30 verstes de Smolensk."
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 175 
 
 Owing to the speed with which the French ran and the 
 Russians pursued and the consequent exhaustion of the horses, 
 the chief method of ascertaining the position of an enemy 
 reconnoissance by cavalry became impossible. Moreover, 
 owing to the numerous and rapid changes of position in both 
 armies, information, such as it was, always came too late. 
 
 If the news came on one day that the enemy's army was at 
 such and such a place the night before, on the next day, by 
 the time that anything could be undertaken, this army would 
 have already made a two-days' inarch and occupied an entirely 
 different position. 
 
 One army fled, the other pursued. From Smolensk the 
 French had a choice among many different routes, and it 
 would seem as if, during their four-days' halt there, they 
 might have reconnoitred the enemy, adopted some advantage- 
 ous plan, and tried some other way. 
 
 But after the four-days' rest the army hastened on in 
 throngs^ turning neither to the right nor to the left, and with- 
 out manoeuvres or combinations following the beaten track 
 along their former route the worst of all that of Krasnoye 
 and Orsha. 
 
 Thinking always that the enemy was behind and not before 
 them, the French hastened on, spreading out and scattering 
 often twenty-four hours' march from each other. 
 
 At the head of the whole army ran the emperor, then the 
 kings, then the dukes. 
 
 The Russian army, believing that Napoleon would turn to 
 the right toward the Dniepr, which was the only reasonable 
 route, themselves turned to the right, and followed the main 
 road toward Krasnoye. 
 
 And here, just as in the game of blind-man's-buff, the 
 French ran against our advance guard. 
 
 Having thus unexpectedly caught sight of the enemy, the 
 French were confused, and paused in astonishment and fright, 
 only to resume their flight, abandoning their comrades, who 
 followed them. There, for three days, the separate fragments 
 of the French army ran, one after the other, as it were, the 
 gantlet of the Russian troops ; first came the corps of the 
 viceroy, then Davoust's, then Key's. 
 
 They all abandoned each other, they all abandoned their 
 heavy possessions, the artillery, half of their forces, and took 
 to flight, marching only by night and in detours, so as to 
 avoid the Russians. 
 
 who came last (because, in spite of their wretched
 
 176 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 condition, or rather in consequence of it, since, like the boy 
 he wanted to beat the floor on which he had been hurt, he hac 
 stopped i to blow up the unoffending walls of Smolensk), 
 Ney, coming last, rejoined Napoleon at Orsha with only on 
 thousand men out of the ten thousand of his corps. Havin 
 abandoned all his soldiers and all his artillery, he had sue 
 ceeded in secretly making his way through the woods by 
 night, and crossing the Dniepr. 
 
 From Orsha they hastened onward, taking the road t 
 Vilno, in exactly the same way, playing blind-man's-buff wit 
 the pursuing army. 
 
 At the Beresina again they were thrown into confusion 
 Many were drowned, many gave themselves up ; but thos 
 who crossed the river still hastened on. 
 
 Their chief commander wrapped himself up in his furs, go 
 into a sledge, and, abandoning his companions, galloped of 
 alone. 
 
 Those who could escaped the same way ; those whb coul< 
 not surrendered or perished. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 IT would seem as if, during this period of the campaign 
 while the French did everything possible to ruin themselves 
 while in no single movement of this mass of men, beginning 
 with its detour oil. the Kaluga road up to the flight of Napo 
 leon, was there one gleam of sense, it would seem as if those 
 historians who consider the action of the masses subservien 
 to the will of a single man might find it impossible to make 
 this retreat fit in with their theory. 
 
 But no ! Mountains of books have been written by histo 
 rians concerning this campaign, and Napoleon's plans am 
 dispositions have been characterized as profound, as well as 
 the manoeuvres executed by the troops, and the genius showi 
 by the marshals in their measures. 
 
 The retreat from Malo-Yaroslavets that useless retreat b} 
 a devastated route, when he was offered one through a well 
 supplied region, when he might have taken the parallel road 
 by which Kutuzof afterwards pursued him is explained for 
 us according to various profound considerations. By these 
 same profound considerations his retreat from Smolensk to 
 Orsha is described. Then they describe his bravery at Kras 
 noye, where ; we are led to believe ? he was ready to put him-
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 17? 
 
 self at the head of his troops and to give battle, and where he 
 marched with a birchen cane, saying : 
 
 " I have been emperor long enough ; it is time to be the 
 general." * 
 
 And yet, immediately after this, he fled, leaving to their 
 fate the defenceless fragments of his army struggling after 
 him. 
 
 Then they describe for us the grandeur of soul displayed by 
 the marshals, especially by Ney, whose grandeur of soul was 
 shown by his sneaking through the forest,' and passing the 
 Dniepr by night, and escaping into Orsha without his stan- 
 dards and artillery, and with a loss of nine-tenths of his 
 troops. 
 
 And, finally, the great emperor himself abandoning his 
 heroic army is represented by historians as something grand, 
 as a stroke of genius. Even this last miserable 'trick of run- 
 ning away, which in ordinary language would be called the 
 lowest degree of meanness, which every child is taught 
 to consider a shameful deed, even this vile trick finds justifi- 
 cation among the historians. 
 
 For when it is no longer possible to stretch out the attenu- 
 ated threads of historical arguments, when actions flagrantly 
 contradict what humanity calls good and even right, the his- 
 torians bring up the saving idea of greatness. Greatness 
 seems to exclude the possibility of applying the standards of 
 good and evil. In the great, nothing is bad. He who is 
 great is not charged with the atrocity of which he may have 
 been guilty. 
 
 " It is great ! C'est grand ! " say the historians ; and then 
 there is no more good or evil, but only great and not great. 
 
 Great is good ; not great is bad. 
 
 Greatness is, according to them, the quality of certain pecul- 
 iar beings, whom they call heroes. 
 
 And Napoleon, fleeing to his own fireside, wrapped in his 
 warm furs, and leaving behind his perishing companions, and 
 those men whom, according to his idea, he had led into Russia, 
 feels que c'est grand, and his soul is tranquil. 
 
 " There is only one step," he said, " from the sublime to the 
 ridiculous." (He thinks himself sublime !) And for fifty 
 years everybody has repeated it : " Sublime ! Great ! Napoleon 
 le grand ! " Truly, there is only one step from the sublime to 
 the ridiculous ! t 
 
 * J'ai assezfait Vempereur, il est temps defaire le ge'ne'ral. 
 t Du sublime au ridicule il n'y a qu 'unpas. 
 VOL. 4. 12.
 
 178 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 It has never entered the mind of any man that by taking 
 greatness as the absolute standard of good and evil, he only 
 proclaims his own emptiness and immeasurable littleness. 
 
 For us who have the standard of right and wrong set by 
 Christ, there is nothing incommensurate. And there is no 
 greatness where there is not simplicity, goodness, and justice. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 WHAT Russian is there who, reading the descriptions of the 
 last period of the campaign of 1812, has not experienced a 
 profound feeling of annoyance, dissatisfaction, and perplexity ? 
 
 Who has not asked himself : Why did we not capture or 
 destroy all the French, when they were surrounded by our 
 three armies, each of superior numbers ; when, dying of starva- 
 tion and cold, they surrendered in throngs ; and when, as history 
 tells us, the aim of the Russians was precisely this to cut 
 off the French, to stop them, and to take them all prisoners ? 
 
 How was it that this army, which, when weaker in num- 
 bers, fought the battle of Borodino, how was it that this 
 army, when it surrounded the French on three sides, and in- 
 tended to take them prisoners, did not accomplish its pur- 
 pose ? 
 
 Had the French such immense pre-eminence over us that we, 
 though possessing superior numbers, and having surrounded 
 them, could not defeat them ? 
 
 How was it that this failed of execution ? 
 
 History, or what is called history, in reply to these 
 questions, declares that it failed of execution because Kutuzof, 
 and Tormasof, and Chitchagof, and this one and that one, and 
 the other, did not execute such and such manoeuvres. 
 
 But why did they not execute these manoeuvres ? If these 
 generals were to blame because the end in view was not at- 
 tained, why were they not court-martialled and put to death ? 
 
 But even if we admit that Kutuzof and Chitchagof and the 
 others were to blame for the Russian non-success, it is still im- 
 possible to understand why the Russian troops, under the 
 conditions which obtained at Krasnoye and at the Beresina 
 (for in both cases the Russians were superior in numbers), 
 did not capture the French troops, with their marshals, kings, 
 and emperors, if such was the object of the Russians. 
 
 This strange phenomenon cannot be explained as is don 
 by the Russian military historians by saying that it was 
 
 :
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 179 
 
 i 
 
 because Kutuzof prevented offensive operations, for we know 
 that Kutuzof's will was unable to restrain the troops from 
 attacking at Viazma and at Tarutino. 
 
 If the Russian army, which with inferior forces was able at 
 Borodino to wrest a victory from an enemy then at the zenith of 
 its strength, why could it not conquer the demoralized throngs 
 of the French at Krasnoye and at the Beresina, when its forces 
 had become superior ? 
 
 If the object of the Russians had been to cut off and cap- 
 ture Napoleon and his marshals, and this object not only was 
 not attained, but all attempts in that direction failed in the 
 most sKameful manner, then the French were perfectly right 
 in -representing the last period of the campaign as a series of 
 victories, and Russian historians are perfectly wrong in repre- 
 senting that we were victorious. 
 
 Russian military historians, if they have any regard for 
 logic, must <?ome to this conclusion, and, in spite of their 
 lyrical effusions about courage and patriotism, must logically 
 confess that the retreat of the French from Moscow was for 
 Napoleon a series of victories, and. for Kutuzof a series of 
 defeats. 
 
 But, if we put absolutely aside national pride, we feel that 
 this conclusion involves a contradiction, since this series of 
 victories on the part of the French brought them to complete 
 destruction, while the series of defeats on the part of the Rus- 
 sians led them to the absolute overthrow of their enemy, and 
 the evacuation of their own country. 
 
 The source of this contradiction lies in the fact that histo- 
 rians who study events in the correspondence of kings and 
 generals, and in official narratives, reports, and plans, have 
 taken for granted the entirely false and unjustifiable idea that 
 the object of the last period of the campaign of 1812 was to 
 cut off and to capture Napoleon and his marshals .and his 
 army. 
 
 This object never existed, and could not exist, because it 
 had no sense, and it was absolutely impossible of attainment. 
 
 The object had no sense, in the first place, because Napo- 
 leon's demoralized army was flying from Russia with all 
 possible speed : in other words, was fulfilling the very wish 
 of every Russian. What reason in directing various military 
 operations against the French, who were running away as fast 
 as they could go ? 
 
 Secondly, it was senseless to try to stop men who were em 
 ploying all their energy in getting away.
 
 180 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 In the third place, it was senseless to sacrifice troops in 
 destroying the French armies, who were going to destruction 
 without external causes, and at such a rate that even when 
 every road was given them undisputed, they could carry 
 across the frontier only the small number that remained to 
 them in the month of December a hundredth part of their 
 whole irmy. 
 
 In the fourth place, it was senseless to wish to make pris- 
 oners of the emperor, the kings, and the marshals, and the 
 men, for their captivity, would have been to the highest 
 degree embarrassing to the Russians, as was recognized by 
 the ablest diplomatists of the time, J. Maistre and "others. 
 
 Still more senseless was the desire to capture whole 
 regiments of the French, when the Russian army had been 
 reduced one-half by the time it reached Krasnoye, and whole 
 divisions would have been needed to guard the troops of pris- 
 oners, and when their own soldiers were not all the time 
 receiving full rations, and when the French already captured 
 were dying of starvation ! 
 
 All of this profound plan of cutting off and seizing Napo- 
 leon and his army was like the plan of the gardener who, in 
 trying to drive out of his enclosure the cattle that were tramp- 
 ling down his garden, should run to the gates and strike them 
 on the head when they passed out. The only thing that could 
 be said in the gardener's justification would be that he was very 
 angry. But this excuse could not be made for those who 
 devised this plan, for they were not the ones who suffered 
 from the trampled garden. 
 
 The idea of cutting off Napoleon and his army, beside being 
 senseless, was impossible. 
 
 It was impossible, first, because, since experience has shown 
 that the movement of columns of soldiers in battle for a 
 distance of five versts can never be made in accordance with 
 plans, the probability that Chitchagof, Kutuzof, and Witt- 
 genstein would effect a junction at a designated place on 
 time was so slight that it amounted to an impossibility, as 
 Kutuzof felt, who, on receiving the sovereign's plan, de- 
 clared that operations at great distances never gave the 
 desired results. 
 
 Secondly, it was impossible because, in order to neutralize 
 that momentum with which Napoleon's army was recoiling, 
 incomparably larger forces would have been necessary than 
 those which the Russians had. 
 
 Thirdly, it was impossible because the military phrase " to
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 181 
 
 cut off " an enemy has no sense. We may cut off a piece of 
 bread, but not an army. 
 
 To cut off an army, to dispute its road, is never possible, 
 for there are always many places where detours can be made, 
 and there is the night, when nothing can be seen, as military 
 students may convince themselves from the example of what 
 took place at Krasnoye or the Beresina. 
 
 It is just as impossible to take a person prisoner, unless the 
 person taken prisoner consents to be seized, as it is to catch a 
 swallow, unless it come and light on your hand. 
 
 Armies can be captured only when they surrender, as the 
 Germans do according to the rules of strategy and tactics. 
 But the French troops, with perfect correctness, found this 
 unfit, since death by cold and starvation awaited them alike in 
 flight and in captivity. 
 
 Fourthly, and chiefly, this was impossible because 
 never since the world began was there a war under such 
 terrible conditions as those which characterized the campaign 
 of 1812 ; ami the Russian troops, in pursuing the French, 
 strained every effort, and could do no more without going to 
 destruction themselves. 
 
 During the movement of the Russian army from Tarutino 
 to Krasnoye fifty thousand men in other words, a number 
 equivalent to the population of a large provincial city were 
 sick and disabled. 
 
 Half of the men left the army without a battle. 
 
 And in regard to this period of the campaign, when the 
 troops, without boots or great-coats, with insufficient food, and 
 without vodka, for months spent the nights in the snow, in a 
 temperature fifteen degrees below freezing ; when the days 
 were only seven or eight hours long, and all the rest of the 
 twenty-four were night, discipline being in such circumstances 
 impossible ; when, not as in battle, men for a few hours only 
 enter the domain of death where there was no discipline, but 
 lived for months in an incessant struggle with death from cold 
 and starvation ; when in a single month half of the army per- 
 ished, in regard to this period of the campaign, historians 
 tell us how Miloradovitch ought to have made a flank move- 
 ment in this direction, and Tormasof in that, and Chitchagof 
 in another (struggling through snow that was knee-deep), and 
 how such and such a one "destroyed" and "cut off" and so 
 on, and so on ! 
 
 The Russians, of whom one-half perished, accomplished all 
 that they could or ought to have done to attain an end worthy
 
 182 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 of the people, and they are not to blame if other Russians, 
 sitting in warm apartments, proposed what it was impossible 
 to do. 
 
 All this strange and at the present time incomprehensible 
 contradiction between the fact and the historical account 
 arises simply from this : the historians who have written 
 about these events have described the fine sentiments and the 
 fint speeches of different generals, and not the history of the 
 event. 
 
 Very important to them seem the speeches of Milorado- 
 vitch, the rewards received by this, that, and the other gen- 
 eral, and their proposals ; but the question about the fifty 
 thousand Russian soldiers who were left behind in hospitals 
 or in nameless graves does not interest them, because it is 
 outside of their studies. 
 
 And yet all it requires is for them to turn their attention 
 from the study of the reports and plans of the generals, and 
 to follow the movements of these hundred thousand men who 
 took an active, immediate part in the event, and all the ques- 
 tions that before seemed insolvable will at once be solved 
 with extraordinary ease and simplicity. 
 
 The aim of cutting off the retreat of Napoleon and his army 
 never existed except in the imaginations of a dozen men. 
 It could not exist, because it was absurd and its realization 
 impracticable. 
 
 The Russian people had only one object in view : to rid 
 their soil of the invaders. 
 
 The object was attained, in the first place, of its own 
 accord, because the French ran away, and afterwards it was 
 only necessary not to check that movement. In the second 
 place, this object was attained by means of that popular warfare 
 which destroyed the French ; and, in the third place, because the 
 great Russian army followed the enemy, ready to employ force 
 in case the movement of the French was suspended. 
 
 The Russian army acted like the knout on a running 
 animal. And the experienced cattle-driver knew that it was 
 most advantageous to threaten it with upraised whip, but not 
 to strike the running animal on the head.
 
 PART FOURTH. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 i 
 
 WHEN a man sees a dying animal, horror seizes him : what 
 he himself is, his own essence, is evidently perishing be- 
 fore his very eyes, ceasing to exist. 
 
 But when the dying one is a human being, and a person 
 beloved and tenderly cherished, then, over and above the 
 horror at the cessation of the life, there is felt a rending and 
 wounding of the soul. This wound, like a physical wound, 
 sometimes kills, sometimes heals, but it is always sore, and 
 shrinks from any external, irritating touch. 
 
 After Prince Andrei's death, Natasha and the Princess 
 Mariya felt this in the same way. Their souls had quailed 
 and bowed under the threatening cloud of death that hung 
 over them, and they dared not look into the face of life. They 
 were extremely cautious not to expose their wounds to humili- 
 ating, painful contact. 
 
 Everything a swiftly passing carriage on the street, the 
 announcement of dinner, the maid's question as to what dresses 
 she should get ready for them ; still worse, a word of per- 
 functory, feeble sympathy made the wound throb painfully, 
 seemed an affront, and profaned that urgent silence in which 
 they both were striving to listen to that stern, terrible choir 
 which ceased not, in their imagination, to chant, and prevented 
 them from looking into those mysterious, infinite distances 
 which, for an instant, opened out before them. 
 
 Only when they, were together alone, they felt no sense of 
 paiii and humiliation. They talked together very little. 
 When they talked, it was on the most insignificant topics. 
 And both of them alike avoided all reference to anything con- 
 cerning the future. 
 
 To recognize the possibility of a future seemed to them an 
 offence to his memory. All the more sedulously they avoided 
 in their talk everything that had reference to the departed. 
 It seemed to them that what they experienced and felt could 
 not be expressed in words. It seemed to them that every 
 
 183
 
 184 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 verbal reference to the separate events 01 his life disturbed 
 the majesty and sacredness of the mystery which had been 
 accomplished before their eyes. 
 
 Their continual self-restraint, their constant, strenuous 
 avoidance of all that might lead to mention of him, these 
 halting-places which stood in the way of every possible ap- 
 proach to the subject which they had tacitly agreed to leave 
 untouched, brought up before their imaginations with all the 
 greater clearness and distinctness that which they felt. 
 
 But pure, unmitigated grief is as impossible as pure and un- 
 mitigated joy. 
 
 The Princess Mariya, by her position as sole and inde- 
 pendent mistress of her fate, as guardian and instructor of her 
 nephew, was the first to be brought, by the exigencies of real 
 life, forth from that world of tribulation in which she had 
 been living for the past fortnight. She received letters from 
 her relatives, which had to be answered; the room which 
 Nikolushka occupied was damp, and he began to have a 
 cough. Alpatuitch came from Yaroslavl with his accounts to 
 be rectified, and with his proposal and advice for her to go 
 back to Moscow, to her house on the Vozdvizhenka, which 
 had remained intact and needed only small repairs. 
 
 Life would not stand still, and it was necessary to live. 
 
 Hard as it was for the Princess Mariya to emerge from that 
 world of solitary contemplation in which she had been living 
 till then, sorry as she was, and almost conscience-stricken, to 
 leave Natasha alone, the labors of life demanded her partici- 
 pation, and she, in spite of herself, had to give way. 
 
 She verified Alpatuitch's accounts, consulted with Dessalles 
 in regard to her nephew, and made arrangements and prep- 
 arations for her journey to Moscow. 
 
 Natasha had been left to herself, and, since the Princess 
 Mariya began to get ready for her departure, avoided even 
 her. 
 
 The Princess Mariya proposed to the countess to let 
 Natasha go to Moscow with her, and both father and mother 
 gladly consented, since each day they noticed a decline in 
 their daughter's physical vigor, and hoped that a change of 
 scene would do her good, and that the physicians of Moscow 
 would help her. 
 
 " I will go nowhere," replied Natasha, when this matter was 
 proposed to her. " All I ask is to be left in peace," said she, 
 and she hastened from the room, scarcely able to restrain her 
 tears, tears not so much of grief as of vexation and anger.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 185 
 
 Since she had felt herself abandoned by the Princess 
 Mariya, and left alone with her grief, Natasha, for the most 
 of the time, sat in her room with her feet in the corner of the 
 sofa, and, while her slender, nervous fingers kept tearing or 
 bending something or other, her eyes would remain obstinately 
 fixed on whatever happened to attract her attention. 
 
 This solitude exhausted, tortured her ; but it was some- 
 thing that she could not help. As soon as any one came to 
 her, she would quickly get up, change her position and the 
 expression of her eyes, and take up her book or her sewing, 
 and make no attempt to conceal her desire that the one who 
 came to disturb her should go. 
 
 It constantly seemed to her that she was on the very point 
 of discovering, of penetrating that terrible, unendurable 
 problem on which her mental eye was directed. 
 
 About the beginning of January, Natasha, thin and pale, 
 and dressed in a black woollen dress, with her braid carelessly 
 knotted up in a pug, was sitting with her feet up on the sofa, 
 concentratedly puckering and folding out the ends of her sash, 
 and gazing with her eyes fixed on the door. 
 
 She was looking at the place where he had vanished, at that 
 side of life. And that side of life, of which she had never 
 thought in the days gone by, which hitherto had always 
 seemed to her so distant and unreal, was now nearer and more 
 familiar, more comprehensible, than the ordinary side of life, 
 where everything was either emptiness and decay, or suffering 
 and humiliation. 
 
 She looked at the place where she knew he had been ; but 
 she could not make it out that he was not there still. She 
 saw him once more as he had been. at Muitishchi, at T?roitsa, 
 at Yaroslavl. 
 
 She saw his face, heard his voice, repeated his words and 
 the words which she had said to him, and sometimes she im^ 
 agined words that they might have spoken. 
 
 There he is lying in the easy-chair, in his velvet shubka, 
 with his head leaning on his thin white hand. His chest is 
 terribly sunken and his shoulders raised. His lips are firmly 
 set, his eyes are gleaming, and on his pallid brow a wrinkle 
 comes and goes. One leg trembles almost imperceptibly with 
 a rapid motion. 
 
 Natasha knew that he was struggling with tormenting pain. 
 " What is that pain like ? Why that pain ? How does he 
 feel ? How does it pain him ? " she wonders. 
 
 He noticed her fixed gaze, he raised his eyes, and without a 
 trace of a smile began to speak :
 
 186 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 "There is one thing terrible," said he, "to be bound for- 
 ever to a suffering man. This is eternal torment ! " And he 
 looked at her with a scrutinizing glance. Natasha replied 
 then, as she always did, before she had time to think what she 
 should reply. She said : " This cannot continue so, it will 
 not be so always ; you will get well entirely well." 
 
 She now saw him as he had been from the first, and lived 
 over in her memory all that she had then experienced. She 
 recalled that long, melancholy, stern look which he had given 
 her at those words, and she realized the significance of the 
 reproach and despair expressed in this protracted look. 
 
 "I agreed with him," said Natasha to herself, "that it 
 would be terrible if he should remain always suffering so. I 
 said this at that time, simply because I meant that for him it 
 would be terrible, but he understood it in a different way, 
 He thought that it would be terrible for me. At that time he 
 was still anxious to live, was afraid to die. And I said this so 
 crudely, so stupidly ! I did not think of that. I meant 
 something entirely different. If I had said what I meant, I 
 should have said : ' If he were to perish by a living death 
 before my eyes, I should be happy in comparison with what I 
 feel now.' Now there is no one, nothing ! Could he have 
 known this ? No ! He knew it not, and he will never know ! 
 And now it is too late, too late to set this right." 
 
 And once more he said to her those same words, but this 
 time Natasha, in her imagination, answered him in a different 
 way. She stopped him and said: "Terrible for you, but not 
 for me. You know that for me life without you would be 
 nothing, and to suffer with you is the dearest happiness." 
 
 And he seized her hand and pressed it just as he had 
 pressed it that terrible evening four days before he died. 
 And in her imagination she spoke to him still other tender, 
 loving words which she might have uttered then, but did not, 
 and which now she could and did say : "I love thee ! 
 thee I love, I love ! " she repeated, convulsively wringing her 
 hands, clinching her teeth, with set determination. 
 
 And the bitter sweetness of grief took possession of her, 
 and her eyes filled with tears, but suddenly she asked herself 
 to whom she was saying that. " Where is he and what is he 
 now ? " And once more everything grew dark with hard and 
 cruel doubt, and, once more closely drawing her brows into a 
 frown, she looked at the place where he had been. And now, 
 now it seemed to her that she was going to fathom the mys 
 
 But at the very instant when it seemed to her that the in-
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 187 
 
 comprehensible was already about to reveal itself to her, a 
 loud rattling of the. door-knob painfully struck upon her ears. 
 With hasty, incautious steps, with a frightened expression 
 never before seen on her face, Dunyasha the maid came run- 
 ning into the room. 
 
 " Please come to your papa as quick as possible," said Dun- 
 yasha, with that peculiar and excited look. "Bad news 
 about Piotr Ilyitch a letter," she cried with a sob. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 BESIDES the general feeling of aversion for all people, 
 Natasha at this time experienced a peculiar feeling of aversion 
 for the members of her own family. All her relatives father, 
 mother, Sony a were so near to her, so familiar, so every-day, 
 that all their words, their sentiments, seemed to her a disre- 
 spect to that world in which she had been lately living, and 
 she looked upon them not only with indifferent but even 
 hostile eyes. She heard Dunyasha's words about Piotr 
 Ilyitch, about bad news, but she did not take them in. 
 
 " What misfortune can have happened to them ? what bad 
 news can it be ? Everything with them goes on calmly, as it 
 always has," said Natasha mentally. 
 
 As she went into the hall her father was coming hastily out 
 of the countess's room. He was evidently hastening from 
 her room so as to give free course to the affliction that over- 
 mastered him. His face was wrinkled and wet with tears. 
 When he saw Natasha he waved his hands in despair, and 
 burst into painfully convulsive sobs, which distorted his 
 round, placid face. 
 
 " Pet Petya go to her, go she she is calling for 
 you " 
 
 And, crying like a child, swiftly shuffling along on his 
 feeble legs, he went to a chair and almost fell into it, burying 
 his face in his hands. 
 
 Suddenly something like an electric shock ran over Nata- 
 sha's whole being. A terribly acute pain struck her heart. 
 She experienced a cruel agony. It seemed to her that some- 
 thing within her snapped and that she was dying. But im- 
 mediately succeeding this agony there came a sense of 
 deliverance from the torpor which had been weighing down 
 her life. Seeing her father, and hearing her mother's terribly
 
 1SS WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 agonized cry in the next room, she instantly forgot herself 
 and her own sorrow. 
 
 She ran up to her father, but he, listlessly waving his arm, 
 pointed to her mother's door. 
 
 The Princess Mariya, with her lower jaw trembling, came 
 out of the room and took Natasha by the hand and said some- 
 thing to her. 
 
 Natasha saw her not, heard her not. With swift steps she 
 passed through the door, paused for an instant, as though 
 struggling with her own inclinations, and ran to her mother. 
 
 The countess lay in her easy-chair, in a strangely awkward 
 and stiff position, and was beating her head against the wall. 
 Souya and the maids were holding her by the arms. 
 
 " Natasha ! Natasha ! " cried the countess. " It is false ! 
 false ! He lies ! Natasha ! " she cried, trying to tear her- 
 self away from those holding her " Go away all of you. It 
 is false ! * Killed ? Ha ! ha ! ha ! 'Tis false ! " 
 
 Natasha leaned her knee on the chair, bent over her mother, 
 threw her arms around her, lifted her up with unexpected 
 strength, turned her face around, and pressed her cheeks 
 against hers. 
 
 " Mamenka ! Darling ! I am here, dearest ! Mamenka ! " 
 she kept whispering, without a second's intermission. 
 
 She kept her arms firmly around her mother, gently 
 struggled with her, called for cushions and water, and unbut- 
 toned and undid her mother's dress. 
 
 " Darling, dearest mamenka dearest heart ! " * she kept 
 all the time whispering while she kissed her head, hands, and 
 face, and felt how her tears, like rivulets, tickling her nose 
 and her cheeks, kept flowing. 
 
 The countess pressed her daughter's hand, closed her eyes, 
 and was calm for an instant. Then suddenly, with unnatural 
 swiftness, she raised herself up, glared around wildly, and, 
 seeing Natasha, pressed her hand with all her might. Then 
 she turned toward her Natasha's face, convulsed with the pain, 
 and long scrutinized it. 
 
 "Natasha, you love me," she said, in a low, confidential 
 whisper. " Natasha, you would not deceive me ? Tell me 
 the whole truth." 
 
 Natasha looked at her with eyes brimming with tears, and 
 her face expressed only a prayer for forgiveness and love. 
 
 " Dearest, mamenka," she repeated, exerting all the energies 
 
 of her love, in order to take upon herself some of the excess of. 
 
 * Druk mo'i, yolubiishka, mamenka, dushenka.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 189 
 
 woe that had come too heavy for her mother to bear. And 
 again, in that unequal struggle against the reality, the mother, 
 refusing to believe that she could still exist when her darling 
 boy, treasured far more than life, was killed, she relapsed 
 from the reality into the world of unreason. 
 
 Natasha could not have told how that first day passed,, that 
 night, the following day, and the following night. She did 
 not sleep, and did not leave her mother's side. Natasha's 
 love, faithful, patient, every second, as it were, wrapped the 
 countess round about not with consolation, not with explana- 
 tion, but with something like a summons back to life. 
 
 On the third night the countess grew calm for several min- 
 utes, and Natasha closed her eyes, and rested her head on the 
 arm of the chair. The bed creaked; Natasha opened her 
 eyes. The countess was sitting on the bed, and said, in a 
 low tone : 
 
 " How glad I am that you have come ! You are tired ; 
 wouldn't you like some tea ? " 
 
 Natasha went to her. 
 
 " You have grown handsome and strong ! " continued the 
 countess, taking her daughter's hand. 
 
 " Mamenka, what are you saying ? " 
 
 " Natasha ! he is dead, he is dead ! " And, throwing her 
 arms around her daughter, the countess for the first time 
 began to weep. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE Princess Mariya had postponed her departure. 
 
 Sonya and the count tried to take Natasha's place, but they 
 found it impossible. They saw that she was the only one 
 who could keep the mother from wild despair. For three 
 weeks Natasha lived constantly by her mother's side, slept in 
 her chair in her room, gave her food and drink, and talked to 
 her unceasingly, talked because her tender, caressing voice 
 was the only thing that calmed the countess. 
 
 A wound in the heart of a mother cannot heal. Petya's 
 death had torn away the half of her life. At the end of a 
 month, after the news of Petya's death had arrived, though it 
 had found her a fresh and well-preserved woman of fifty, she 
 crept out of her room an old woman, half dead, and no longer 
 taking any interest in life. But the same wound which had 
 ? half killed the countess, this new wound brought Natasha 
 back to life.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 The spiritual wound, arising from the laceration of the 
 spiritual body, exactly like a physical wound, strange as it 
 may seem, after the deep wound has cicatrized, and its edges 
 have come together, the spiritual wound, like the physical 
 one, heals only through the inward working of the forces of 
 life. 
 
 Thus healed Natasha's wound. She thought that life for 
 her was finished. But suddenly her love for her mother 
 proved to her that the essence of her life love was still 
 alive within her. llove awoke and life awoke. 
 
 Prince Andrei's last days had brought Natasha and the 
 Princess Mariya close together. This new misfortune still 
 more united them. The Princess Mariya postponed her de- 
 parture, and for three weeks she tended Natasha like an 
 ailing child. The weeks spent by her in her mother's room 
 had been a severe drain on her physical energies. 
 
 One time, toward noon, the Princess Mariya, observing that 
 Natasha was trembling as though she had a fever, took her to 
 her room, and made her lie down on her bed.' Natasha lay 
 down, but when the princess, pulling down the blinds, started 
 to go, Natasha called her back. 
 
 " I don't care to sleep, Marie ; sit down with me ! " 
 
 "You are tired ; try to go to sleep." 
 
 " No, no ! Why did you bring me away ? She will be 
 asking for me ! " 
 
 " She is much better. She talked so naturally to-day," said 
 the Princess Mariya. 
 
 Natasha lay on the bed, and in the semi-darkness of the 
 room studied the Princess Mariya's face. 
 
 " Is she like him ? " Natasha asked herself. " Yes, like 
 him and not like him. But she is peculiar, strange, entirely 
 original, unlike anybody else. And she loves me ! What is 
 in her heart ? Nothing but goodness ! But what, what does 
 she think of me ? How does she regard me ? Yes, she is 
 beautiful!" 
 
 " Masha ! " said she timidly, drawing her hand to her. 
 " Masha, don't think that I am bad. You don't, do you ? 
 Masha ! darling, how I love you ! Let us always, always be 
 friends ! " 
 
 And Natasha, throwing her arms around the Princess Ma- 
 riya, began to kiss her hands and face. The princess was 
 both embarrassed and delighted at this expression of Natasha's 
 feelings. 
 
 From that day forth began between the Princess Mariya
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 191 
 
 and Natasha that passionate and tender friendship which only 
 exists between women. 
 
 They were constantly kissing each other, calling each other 
 affectionate names, and spent the larger part of the time 
 together. If one sighed, the other was anxious, and hastened 
 to rejoin her friend. Each felt more at peace with herself 
 when the two were together than when they were alone. 
 There existed between them a stronger feeling than friend- 
 ship : this was that exclusive feeling that life was only pos- 
 sible when they were together. 
 
 Sometimes they sat without speaking for hours at a time ; 
 sometimes while in bed they would begin to talk and talk till 
 morning. Their conversation ran mainly on their earliest recol- 
 lections. 
 
 The Princess Mariya would tell about her childhood, about 
 her mother, about her father, about her hopes and fancies ; 
 and Natasha, who in times gone by, through her easy lack of 
 comprehension, would have been repelled by this life of devo- 
 tion, of humility, by this poetry of Christian self-sacrifice, 
 now feeling herself bound in affection to the princess, loved 
 also the princess's past life, and began to comprehend the 
 hitherto incomprehensible side of her life. 
 
 She had no idea of applying in her own case the principles 
 of this humility and self-abnegation, because she was accus- 
 tomed to find other pleasures, but she comprehended and 
 loved in her friend this formerly incomprehensible virtue. 
 
 For the Princess Mariya also, when she heard Natasha's 
 stories of her childhood and early youth, a formerly incom- 
 prehensible phase of life faith in life itself and in the joys 
 of life was revealed. 
 
 Neither of them liked to speak of him. for fear they should 
 in words desecrate what seemed to them those lofty heights 
 of feeling which were in their hearts ; but this reticence 
 concerning Jhim was causing them, little by little, though 
 they would not have believed it, to forget him. 
 
 Natasha grew thin and pale, and physically she became so 
 feeble that her health was a constant topic of conversation, 
 but this was agreeable to her. But sometimes, unexpectedly, 
 there came over her not so much a fear of death as a fear of 
 pain, weakness, loss of beauty ; and, in spite of herself, she 
 sometimes attentively contemplated her bare arm, marvelling 
 at its thinness, or in the morning she gazed into the mirror at 
 her pinched and, as it seemed to her, wretched-looking face. 
 It seemed to her that this had to be so, and at the same time 
 it filled her with terror and melancholy.
 
 192 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 One time she ran' quickly upstairs, and found herself 
 breathing hard. She immediately, in spite of herself, invented 
 some excuse to go down again, and then once more ran up- 
 stairs to test her strength and see what she could do. 
 
 Another time she called Dunyasha, and her voice sounded 
 weak. She tried it once more ; she called her, although she 
 heard her coming called her in those chest tones which she 
 used to use in singing, and listened to them. 
 
 She did not know it ; she would not have believed it ; but 
 under what seemed to her the impenetrable crust of mould 
 with which her soul was covered, already the delicate, tender, 
 young shoots of grass were starting, which were bound to 
 grow, and thus, by their life-giving, victorious force, hide 
 from sight the sorrow which she had suffered, so that it would 
 soon be forgotten. 
 
 The wound w r as healing inwardly. Toward the beginning 
 of February the Princess Mariya went to Moscow, and the 
 count insisted upon Natasha going with her, so as to consult 
 with the doctors. 
 
 CHAPTEE IV. 
 
 A i'EB the encounter at Viazma, where Kutuzof could not 
 restrain his troops from the desire to overthrow, to cut off the 
 enemy, the further movement of the fleeing French and the 
 pursuing Russians took place without a battle until they 
 reached Krasnoye. 
 
 The flight of the French was so rapid that the Russian 
 army chasing them could not catch up with them, that the 
 horses in the cavalry and artillery came to a standstill, and 
 that information in regard to the movements of the French 
 was always untrustworthy. 
 
 The men of the Russian army were so worn out by these 
 uninterrupted marches of forty versts a day, that they could 
 not move onward any faster. 
 
 To appreciate the degree of exhaustion which the Russian 
 army suffered, it is only necessary to realize the significance 
 of this fact, that, while the Russian army, on leaving Taru- 
 tino, had a hundred thousand men, and lost during the whole 
 march not more than five thousand in killed and wounded, 
 and less than a hundred taken prisoners, they had only fifty 
 thousand men when they got to Krasnoye. 
 
 The swift pursuit of the Russians after the French was as
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 193
 
 194 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 duke or king prisoner, it seemed to these generals that now, 
 when any battle was odious and absurd, it was the very golden 
 time to give battle and conquer some one. 
 
 Kutuzof merely shrugged his shoulders when, one after 
 another, they laid before him their plans for manoeuvres to be 
 accomplished by these badly shod, half-famished soldiers, 
 without great-coats, who, during a month, had been reduced 
 one-half, though they had not fought a battle, and with whom, 
 under the most favorable conditions of a prolonged retreat, he 
 must go to the frontier, a distance greater than that already 
 traversed. 
 
 This desire to gain personal distinction, to manoeuvre, to 
 harass and cut off the enemy, was especially manifested when 
 Kussian troops encountered French troops. 
 
 That was the case at Krasnoye, where the Kussian generals 
 thought that they had found one of the three -columns of the 
 French, and hurled themselves upon Napoleon himself with 
 sixteen thousand men. In spite of all the means employed by 
 Kutuzof to avoid this destructive engagement and to save his 
 troops, for three days an indiscriminate attack on the de- 
 moralized mob of the French was kept up by the weary troops 
 of the Russian army. 
 
 Toll wrote out a plan, " Die erste Colonne marschirt, The 
 first column will march/"' etc., and, as always happens, 
 everything took place contrary to the plan. 
 
 Prince Eugene of Wiirttemberg saw from a hill-top a number 
 of French fugitives fleeing past him down the road, and asked 
 for re-enforcements, which did not arrive. 
 
 That night the French, managing to avoid the Russians, 
 scattered and hid through the woods, and made their way on- 
 ward as best they could. 
 
 Miloradovitch, who declared that he cared nothing what- 
 ever about the provisioning of his troops, who could never 
 be found when he was wanted, a " chevalier sans peur et sans 
 reproche" as he called himself, and was fond of talking with 
 the French, sent a flag of truce, offering terms of surrender, j 
 and lost time and failed to execute the orders intrusted to 
 him. 
 
 " I make you a present of that column, my children," he 
 said, riding up to his troops, and pointing out the French to 
 his cavalry. 
 
 And his troops, mounted upon horses that could barely 
 move, urged them with spur and sword-pricks into a trot, and, * 
 after intense efforts, advanced upon the column which had
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 195 
 
 been given to them, in other words, upon a crowd of be- 
 numbed Frenchmen half dead with hunger and cold ; and this 
 column, which had been given to them, threw down its arms 
 and surrendered, as it long had been wishing to do ! 
 
 At Krasnoye they took twenty-six thousand prisoners, and 
 captured hundreds of cannon and a kind of a stick which they 
 called " the marshal's baton ; " and they quarrelled as to who 
 had distinguished themselves, and they were contented with 
 this, but much regretted that they had not captured Napoleon 
 or some hero, some one of the marshals, and they blamed each 
 another, and especially Kutuzof. 
 
 These men, carried away by their passions, were only the 
 blind agents of the most grievous law of necessity, but they 
 considered themselves heroes, and imagined that what they 
 had done was a most worthy and noble work. 
 
 They blamed Kutuzof, and declared that ever since the be- 
 ginning of the campaign he had prevented them from con- 
 quering Napoleon, and thought only of his own personal 
 pleasures, and that he had been unwilling to leave Polotniani 
 Zavodui because he was comfortable there ; that at Krasnoye 
 he stopped the movement because, on learning that Napoleon 
 was there, he had lost his presence of mind, and that it was 
 quite supposable that he had an understanding with Napoleon, 
 that he had been bought over, etc.* . 
 
 Because contemporaries, carried away by their passions, 
 spoke thus, Kutuzof is regarded by posterity and history 
 (which call Napoleon " great "), by foreigners, only as a sly, 
 weak, and debauched old . courtier ; by Russians, as an indefi- 
 nite sort of person, a puppet useful because of his Russian 
 name. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 IN 1812-1813, Kutuzof was openly accused of serious mis- 
 takes. 
 
 The sovereign was displeased with him ; and in the history 
 of the campaign, written not long since, by imperial orders,f 
 it is declared that Kutuzof was a crafty courtier and liar, who 
 trembled at the name of Napoleon, and who, by his blunders 
 at Krasnoye and the Beresina, deprived the Russian troops of 
 the glory of a complete victory over the French. 
 
 * Wilson's Memoir, 
 t " History of the Year 1812," Bogdano'vitch ; characteristics of Kutuzof, 
 and dissertation on the unsatisfactory results of the battles at Krasnoye.
 
 196 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 Such is the fate of men who are not great not grand 
 Komme or, since the Russian intellect never recognizes them, 
 such the fate of those rare and always solitary men who, being 
 able to comprehend the will of Providence, subordinate their 
 own wills to it. 
 
 The hatred and scorn of the multitude punish these men 
 for their comprehension of the higher laws. 
 
 To Russian historians a strange and terrible thing to say ! 
 
 Napoleon, that insignificant instrument of history, who 
 never anywhere, even in exile, showed human dignity, Napo- 
 leon is the object of admiration and enthusiasm : he is great 
 
 grand ! 
 
 Kutuzof, on the other hand, the man who from the begin- 
 ning to the end of his active life in 1812, from Borodino to 
 Vilno, not once, by a single act or word, proved a traitor to 
 himself, but offers an example unique in history, of self- 
 sacrifice and present insight into the future significance of an. 
 event, Kutuzof is to them something vague and pitiable, and 
 when they speak of him and of 1812 they seem to be some- 
 what ashamed. 
 
 And yet it is hard to conceive an historical personage whose 
 activity was so faithfully and so constantly devoted to a single 
 aim. It is hard to imagine an aim more worthy or which 
 better coincided with the will of a whole people. 
 
 Still more difficult it would be to discover another example, 
 in history, where an aim set by an historical personage was so 
 completely realized as the aim to the attainment of which 
 Kutuzof s whole activity was devoted in 1812. 
 
 Kutuzof never talked about the forty centuries that looked 
 down from the Pyramids, of the sacrifices he had made for 
 his country, of what he intended to accomplish or had already 
 accomplished. 
 
 As a general thing, he spoke little of himself, never played 
 any part, seemed always a most simple and ordinary man, and 
 said only the most simple and the most ordinary things. 
 
 He wrote letters to his daughters and to Madame Stahl,* 
 read romances, liked the society of pretty women, jested with 
 generals, officers, and soldiers, and never contradicted anybody 
 who tried to prove anything to him. 
 
 When Count Rostopchin galloped across the Yauza bridge 
 up to Kutuzof and loaded him with personal reproaches for 
 the loss of Moscow, and said, " You promised not to give up 
 
 * De Stael?
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 197 
 
 Moscow without a battle," Kutuzof replied, although Moscow 
 was already abandoned, 
 
 " I shall not give up Moscow without a battle." 
 
 When Arakcheyef came to him from the sovereign and said 
 that Yermolof must be appointed chief of artillery, Kutuzof 
 replied, although a few moments before he had expressed 
 himself quite differently, 
 
 " Yes. I only just now proposed that myself." 
 
 What was it to him, who alone amid the foolish throng 
 about him understood all the mighty significance of the event, 
 what was it to him whether Count Eostopchin attributed to 
 him or any one else the desertion of Moscow ? Still less could 
 he be concerned with the question who should be named chief 
 of artillery. 
 
 Not only in these circumstances, but on all occasions, this 
 old man, who by experience of life had come to the conviction 
 that thoughts, and the words whereby thoughts are expressed, 
 do not stir men to action, spoke words absolutely without 
 meaning, saying whatever came into his head. 
 
 But this same man, who so scorned speech, never once, 
 throughout the whole period of his activity, uttered a single 
 word which would not have agreed with the one object toward 
 the attainment of which he moved throughout the course of 
 the war. 
 
 It was with evident reluctance, with a painful assurance 
 that he would not be understood, that again and again in the 
 most varied circumstances he expressed his thoughts. 
 
 From the time of the battle of Borodino, when his quarrel 
 with those around him began, he alone declared that the battle 
 of Borodino was a victory, and he repeated it both orally and in 
 his letters, as well as in his reports, till the very end of his life. 
 
 He alone declared that the loss of Moscow was not the loss of 
 Russia. 
 
 He, in reply to Lauriston, who was sent to offer terms of 
 peace, said that peace could not be made, because such was 
 not the will of the people. 
 
 He alone, during the retreat of the French, declared that 
 all our manoeuvres were useless, that everything would come out 
 of itself better than we could wish, that it ivas only necessary to 
 give the enemy the " golden bridge ; " * that neither the battle of 
 Tarutino, nor that of Krasnoye, nor that of Viazma ivas neces- 
 sary ; that if they must reach the frontier ', they must have troops ; 
 
 * That is, give them every facility to Destroy themselves,
 
 198 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 that he ivould not sacrifice a single Russian soldier for ten 
 Frenchmen. 
 
 And he alone, this deceitful courtier, as he is represented 
 to us, this man who to please his sovereign lied to Arak- 
 eheyef, he alone, this courtier, at the risk of winning his sov- 
 ereign's ill will, declared, at Vilno, that war beyond the frontier 
 would be dangerous and useless. 
 
 But words alone would not prove that he grasped the sig- 
 nificance of the event. His acts all without the slightest 
 variation all were directed to one and the same threefold 
 object : 
 
 1. To concentrate all his forces for any encounter with the 
 French. 
 
 2. To vanquish them, and 
 
 3. To drive them from Kussia, while alleviating, so far as 
 was possible, the sufferings of the people and the troops. 
 
 He, this Kutuzof, the temporizer, whose device was "pa- 
 tience and time," the enemy of decisive actions, he gives 
 battle at Borodino, clothing the preparation for it with un- 
 exampled solemnity. 
 
 He, this Kutuzof, who at Austerlitz, before the battle began, 
 declares that it will be lost ; and at Borodino, in spite of the 
 conviction of the generals that it was a defeat, protests up to 
 the time of his death that the battle of Borodino was a vic- 
 tory, though the example of an army winning a victory, but 
 being obliged to retreat, was unheard of in history, he alone, 
 during all the time of the retreat, insists upon refraining 
 from further battles, since they were now useless from 
 beginning a new war, and from crossing the frontier. 
 
 It is easy at the present time to comprehend the signifi- 
 cance of the event, provided we do not concern ourselves with 
 the mass of plans fermenting in the heads of a dozen men, 
 since the great event, with all its consequences, lies before us. 
 
 But how was it that at that time this old man, alone, against 
 the opinions of many, was able to divine so accurately the 
 significance of the national impression of the event, that he did 
 not once through his whole activity prove false to it ? 
 
 This extraordinary power of insight into the import of the 
 events accomplishing had its source in that national sentiment 
 which he carried in his heart in all its purity and vigor. 
 
 Only the recognition of this sentiment in Kutuzof compelled 
 the people by such strange paths to choose this old man, in 
 disgrace as he was, against the will of the sovereign., to be 
 their representative in the national war.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 199 
 
 
 
 And only this sentiment elevated Kutuzof to the high pinna- 
 cle of humanity from which he, the general-in-chief, employed 
 all his efforts, not to kill and exterminate men, but to save 
 and have pity upon them. 
 
 This simple, modest, and therefore truly grand figure could 
 not be cast in the counterfeit mould employed by history for 
 the European hero who is supposed to govern the nations. 
 
 For the valet there can be no great man, because the valet 
 has his own conception of greatness. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE seventeenth of November was the first day of the so- 
 called battle of Krasnoye. Before dark, when after many 
 disputes and blunders caused by generals who did not reach 
 the places where they should have been, after much galloping 
 about of adjutants with commands and counter-commands, 
 when it was already self-evident that the enemy were every- 
 where running away, and that a battle could not and would 
 not take place, Kutuzof set forth from Krasnoye and rode to 
 Dobroye, where headquarters had been established that same 
 day. 
 
 The day was clear and frosty. Kutuzof, with a big suite of 
 generals most of whom were dissatisfied with him and were 
 whispering behind his back, rode to Dobroye, mounted on his 
 stout white cob. 
 
 The road all along was crowded with a party of French 
 prisoners captured that day seven thousand of them had 
 been taken who were trying to warm themselves around the 
 bivouac fires. 
 
 Not far from Dobroye a huge throng of ragged prisoners, 
 wearing whatevef they happened to have laid their hands on, 
 were loudly talking, as they stood in the road near a long row 
 of unlimbered cannon. 
 
 As the commander-in-chief approached, the talking quieted 
 down, and all eyes were fixed on Kutuzof, who, in his white 
 hat with red band, and wadded capote hunched upon his 
 stooping shoulders, slowly moved along the road. One of the 
 generals reported to Kutuzof where the prisoners and cannon 
 had been captured. 
 
 Kutuzof seemed pre-occupied and did not hear the general's 
 words. He involuntarily blinked his eyes, and kept gazing 
 attentively and fixedly at the figures of the prisoners, who
 
 200 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 presented a particularly melancholy spectacle. The most of 
 the French soldiers were maimed, with frost-bitten noses and 
 cheeks, and almost all of them had red, swollen, and mattery 
 eyes. One clump of the French were near the roadside, and 
 two soldiers the face of one was covered by scars were 
 tearing a piece of raw meat. There was something terrible 
 and bestial in the wild glances which they cast on the new- 
 comers and in the ugly expression with which the scarred 
 soldier, after gazing at Kutuzof, immediately turned away 
 and went on with his operations. 
 
 Kutuzof gazed long and attentively at these two soldiers ; 
 frowning still more portentously, he blinked his eyes and 
 thoughtfully shook his head. 
 
 In another place he observed a Russian soldier, who, with 
 a laugh, gave a Frenchman a slap on the shoulder and made 
 some friendly remark to him. Kutuzof, again with the same 
 expression, shook his head. 
 
 " What were you saying ? " he demanded of the general 
 who had gone on with his report and was calling the com- 
 mander-in-chief's attention to the captured French colors that 
 were bunched in front of the Preobrazhensky regiment. 
 
 " Oh, the colors," said Kutuzof, finding it evidently hard to 
 turn his mind from the object that attracted his attention. 
 He looked around absent-mindedly. Thousands of eyes, from 
 every side, looked at him, expecting his reply. 
 
 He reined in his horse in front of the Preobrazhensky regi- 
 ment, drew a heavy sigh, and closed his eyes. One of the 
 suite made a signal to the soldiers who had charge of the 
 standards to advance and group the flag-staffs around the com- 
 mander-in-chief. 
 
 Kutuzof said nothing for some seconds ; and then, with evi- 
 dent reluctance, yielding to the necessity of his position, 
 raised his head and began to speak. 
 
 The officers gathered around him in throngs. With an 
 attentive glance he surveyed the circle of officers, some of 
 whom he recognized. 
 
 " I thank you all," he said, addressing the soldiers and then 
 the officers again. In the silence which reigned around him 
 his slowly spoken words were perfectly distinct. " I thank 
 you all for your hard and faithful service. The victory is 
 complete, and Russia will not forget you. Your glory will be 
 eternal." 
 
 He was silent and looked around. 
 
 " Bend down, bend down his head ! " said he to the soldier
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 201 
 
 who held the French eagle and had unexpectedly inclined it 
 toward the Preobrazhensky standard. " Lower, lower still, 
 that's the way. Hurrah, children ! " he cried, with a quick 
 movement of his chin, turning to the soldiers. 
 
 " Hurrah, rah-rah ! '.' roared forth from thousands of voices. 
 
 While the soldiers were cheering, Kutuzof bent down to his 
 saddle, inclined his head, and his eyes gleamed with a gentle, 
 perceptibly ironical gleam. 
 
 " Well, boys ! " * he began when the cheering had ceased. 
 
 And suddenly his voice and the expression of his face 
 changed ; it was no longer the Commander-in-chief who spoke, 
 but simply an old man, who evidently had something of im- 
 portance to communicate to his companions in arms. 
 
 Through the crowd of officers and the ranks of the soldiers 
 ran a stir, as they pressed forward to hear more distinctly 
 what he should now have to say : 
 
 " Well, boys ! I know it's hard for you, but what's to be 
 done ? Have patience ; it is not for long. When we have 
 escorted our guests out of the country we will rest. The tsar 
 will not forget your labors, will not forget you. It is hard 
 for you, but you are at home all this time, while they see 
 what they have come to/' said he, indicating the prisoners, 
 " worse than the lowest beggars. While they were strong we 
 had no pity on them, but now we may pity them. They, too, 
 are men. Isn't that so, children ? " 
 
 He glanced around him, and in the earnest, respectfully 
 perplexed glances fixed upon him he read their sympathy in 
 what he had said. His face was constantly more and more 
 illumined by the benevolent smile of old age, by the star-like 
 lines irradiating from the corners of his mouth and eyes. 
 
 He remained silent for a little, and in seeming perplexity 
 dropped his head. 
 
 " Of course it may be said, who invited them to come to 
 
 us ? They deserve it, by " said he, suddenly raising his 
 
 head. And, cracking his whip, he rode off at a gallop, for the 
 first time in the whole campaign followed by roars of laugh- 
 ter and a terrific hurrah ringing down the long lines of the 
 soldiers as they broke ranks. 
 
 The words spoken by Kutuzof could have been scarcely 
 understood by the troops. No one would have been able to 
 report accurately, either the solemn words which the field- 
 marshal had spoken first, or the kindly simplicity of the old 
 man's words at the last ; but not only was the tone of sincerity 
 * Bratsui, brothers.
 
 202 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 that rang through the whole speech comprehensible, but that 
 peculiar sense of majestic solemnity in union with compassion 
 for their enemies, and with the feeling of the righteousness 
 of their cause, expressed, if in nothing else, in that old-fash- 
 ioned, good-natured execration, this feeljing found an echo in 
 every man's breast, and found utterance in that joyful, long 
 undying shout. 
 
 When afterwards one of the generals came and asked 
 Kutuzof if he would not prefer to ride in his calash, in his 
 reply he unexpectedly broke into sobs, evidently being over- 
 come by the greatest emotion. 
 
 CHAPTEE VII. 
 
 ON the twentieth of November, the last day of the battles 
 of Krasnoye, it was already twilight when the troops reached 
 their halting-place for the night. The whole day had been 
 calm and cold with an occasional light fall of snow. Toward 
 evening it had begun to clear off. Even while the last flakes 
 were falling the dark purple starry sky could be seen and the 
 cold grew more intense. 
 
 A regiment of musketeers, which had left Tarutino three 
 thousand strong, and now mustered nine hundred, was one of 
 the first to reach the place of bivouac, a village on the high- 
 road. 
 
 The billeters, who met the regiment, explained that all the 
 cottages were occupied by sick and dying Frenchmen, cavalry- 
 men, and staff officers. There was only one izba for the regi- 
 mental commander. 
 
 The regimental commander went to his quarters. The regi- 
 ment marched through the village and stacked their arms near 
 the last houses on the high-road. 
 
 Like a monstrous many-limbed animal, the regiment at once 
 set to work to provide for itself a lair and food. One squad 
 of the men, ploughing through snow above their knees, went 
 to a birch grove, at the right of the road, and immediately 
 from the grove were heard the sounds of axes, cutlasses, the 
 crashing of falling limbs, and gay voices. 
 
 A second detachment were gathered around the place where 
 the regiment's carts and horses were drawn up, noisily busy in 
 getting out kettles and hardtack and in foddering the horses. 
 
 A third detachment were scattered through the village, pre- 
 paring quarters for the staff officers, clearing away the dead
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 203 
 
 bodies of the French that lay in the izbas, and dragging off 
 beams, dry wood, and straw from the roofs for their fires, and 
 wattled hedges for shelter., A dozen or more soldiers behind 
 a row of cottages at the extreme edge of the village, with a 
 jocund shout, were pulling at the high wattling of a shed from 
 which the roof had already been torn. 
 
 " Now then ! once more, all together ! " cried the voices, and 
 under the darkness of the night the fabric of the hedge, ladeli 
 with snow, rocked with a frosty, crackling sound. 
 
 The lower posts gave way more and more, and at last the 
 wattling started to give way, taking with it the soldiers who 
 were pushing against it. There were heard loud, coarse shouts 
 and laughter. 
 
 " Look out there, you two ! " " Give the hand-spike * 
 here ! " 
 
 There, that's the way ! " 
 
 " What are you climbing up there for ? " 
 
 " Now, all together. Now wait, boys ! With a chorus ! " 
 
 All became silent, and a mellow, velvety, sweet voice struck 
 up the song. At the end of the third stanza, as the last note 
 died away, a score of voices took up the refrain in unison, 
 
 " U u u u! idyot ! Rdzom ! Navdlis dyetki!" 
 "She falls! once more a long pull and a strong pull, 
 boys ! " 
 
 But, in spite of their united efforts, the wattling gave but 
 little, and in the silence that ensued was heard their heavy 
 breathing. 
 
 " Ho there, Company Six ! Fiends ! Devils ! Lend a hand ! 
 We'll do as much for you some day ! " 
 
 A score of men from Company Six, who were passing 
 through the village, joined forces with the others, and the 
 wattling, five sazhens long and a sazhen, or seven feet, wide, 
 bending under its own weight, and crushing and bruising the 
 shoulders of the panting soldiers who carried it, moved along 
 the village street. " Keep step there ! There you are stum- 
 bling ! Can't you keep your balance ? " 
 
 There was no cessation of the jovial though sometimes 
 coarse objurgation. 
 
 " What is the matter with you ? " suddenly rang out the 
 imperious voice of a soldier, who came hastening toward 
 them. 
 
 " There are gentlemen here ! The anaral, himself, is in 
 
 * The speaker, a man from Tula perhaps, says rtitchag instead of ruitchdg.
 
 204 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 that izba, but you are devils, fiends incarnate, foul-mouthed 
 wretches ! I'll give it to you ! " yelled the sergeant, and, with 
 all his might, he struck the first soldier he encountered a blow 
 on the back. " Can't you keep quiet ? " 
 
 The soldiers ceased their noise. The soldier who had been 
 struck grunted, and began to rub his face, which was covered 
 with blood from being knocked head first into the wattled 
 branches of the hedge, which had lacerated it. 
 
 " The devil ! How he made me smart for it ! See how it 
 made my whole mug bleed ! " said he, in a timid whisper, 
 when the sergeant had gone back. 
 
 " And so you don't like it ! " said a mocking voice, and, 
 moderating their tones, the soldiers went on their way. When 
 once they were beyond the village, they once more began to 
 talk as loud as ever, punctuating their conversation with the 
 same aimless objurgations. 
 
 In the cottage by which the soldiers had been passing were 
 collected some of the higher officers, and, as they drank their 
 tea, the conversation waxed lively over the events of the past 
 day and the proposed manoeuvres of the following day. It 
 was proposed to make a flank march to the left, to cut off the 
 viceroy and take him prisoner. 
 
 When the soldiers brought in the wattled hedge, already in 
 various directions the fires for cooking were merrily burning. 
 The wood was snapping, the snow melted, and the dark 
 shadows of soldiers were moving up and down over the whole 
 space, trampling down the snow. 
 
 Axes and cutlasses were busy at work in various directions. 
 Everything was done without special orders. Wood was 
 brought for the night supply ; wigwams were prepared for the 
 officers, kettles were set to boiling, arms and ammunition were 
 put into order. 
 
 The hedge brought in by the men of the Eighth Company 
 was set up in the form of a semicircular screen toward the 
 north, and propped up with stakes while the fire was kindled 
 under its shelter. The drums beat the tattoo, the roll was 
 called, the men took their supper and disposed themselves for 
 the night around the bivouac fires one repairing his foot- 
 gear, another smoking his pipe, another (stripped to the skin) 
 roasting his lice !
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 205 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 IT would seem as if in those almost unimaginably difficult 
 conditions of existence in which the Russian soldiers were 
 brought at this time, lacking warm boots, lacking overcoats, 
 without shelter over their heads, in the snow with the tem- 
 perature at eighteen degrees below zero, lacking a sufficiency 
 of provisions, which frequently failed to arrive, it would 
 seem as if these soldiers might by good rights have presented 
 a most pitiable and melancholy spectacle. 
 
 On the contrary, never, even in the very most favorable 
 material conditions, did the army present a more gay and ani- 
 mated spectacle. It was due to the fact that each day the 
 army lost out of its ranks all those who began to show signs 
 of weakness or depression, all who were physically or morally 
 feeble had long since been left behind ; the very flower of the 
 army remained through strength of spirit and of body. 
 
 The Eighth Company, who had set up the shelter of the wat- 
 tling, had more than its share of men. Two sergeant-majors 
 had come behind it, and their fire blazed up brighter than any 
 of the others. They demanded in exchange for the right to 
 sit behind the shelter an offering of firewood. 
 
 " Hey, Makayef ! what's the matter with you ? Did you 
 get lost, or did the wolves eat you ? Bring us some wood," 
 cried one, a rubicund-faced, red-haired soldier, scowling and 
 winking from the smoke, but not offering to stir from the 
 fire. " Come here, you crow, bring us some wood," cried this 
 soldier, addressing another. 
 
 The red-headed man was neither a non-commissioned officer 
 nor a corporal, but was simply a sound, healthy private, 
 and therefore he ordered around those who were weaker than 
 he. 
 
 A thin little soldier with a sharp nose, the one they called 
 " Crow," Vorona, submissively got up and started to 
 obey the command ; but at this time the firelight fell on the 
 slender, graceful figure of a soldier lugging an armful of 
 fagots. 
 
 " Give it here, that's first-rate." 
 
 The wood was broken up and thrown on, and the men blew 
 it with their mouths and fanned it with their coat-tails, and 
 the flame began to hiss and crackle. The soldiers, gathering 
 closer, lighted their pipes. The handsome young soldier whn
 
 206 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 had brought the fagots put his arms akimbo and began 
 swiftly and skilfully to dance a shuffle where he stood to 
 warm his frozen feet. 
 
 " Akh, mdmenka, 
 kholodnaya rosd 
 Da khoroshd 
 Daf mushkatera.* 
 
 "But the musketeer/' he added, apparently hiccoughing at 
 every syllable of the song. 
 
 " Hey, there, your soles are flying off," cried the red-haired 
 man, observing that one of the young soldier's soles was hang- 
 ing loose. " It's poison to dance." 
 
 The dancer paused, tore off the loose leather and flung it 
 into the fire. 
 
 "That's so, brother," said he, and, sitting down, he got out 
 of his knapsack a piece of blue French cloth and proceeded to 
 wrap it around his foot and leg. " It will do for a pair," he 
 added, stretching his feet out toward the fire. " We'll soon 
 have new ones. They say, when we've killed 'em all off, we'll 
 have enough for a couple of pairs." 
 
 "But, say, did you see that son of a dog Petrof ? He 
 straggled behind, didn't he ? " asked one of the sergeant- 
 majors. 
 
 " I saw him some time ago/' said another. 
 
 " So, then, the soldier boy " 
 
 " They say that in the Third Company yesterday nine men 
 missed roll-call." 
 
 "Well, but how's a man to walk when his feet are frozen 
 off, tell me that ! " 
 
 "Eh, it's idle to talk about it," said the sergeant-major. 
 
 " Well, how would you like it ? " asked an old soldier re- 
 proachfully, addressing the one who had spoken about feet 
 being frozen off. 
 
 " What's your idea about it ? " suddenly getting up from 
 the farther side of the fire, cried, in a shrill, trembling voice, 
 the sharp-nosed soldier whom they called Vorona, the crow. 
 "The fat grows lean, and. lean ones has to die. That's my 
 case. My strength's all gone," said he, suddenly taking a 
 resolute tone and addressing the sergeant-major. " Have me 
 sent to the hospital. The rheumatiz has got the upper hand 
 o' me. And, besides, what difference does it make ? " 
 
 * " Ah, dear little mother, cold is the dew, but the musketeer "
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 207 
 
 "There, now, that'll do, that'll do," said the sergeant-major 
 calmly. 
 
 The little soldier relapsed into silence, and the general 
 conversation went on. 
 
 " To-day they took a good number of these Frenchmen, but, 
 as for boots, it's safe to say not one had any good for any- 
 thing not one worthy of the name," began one of the sol- 
 diers, with the purpose of starting a new subject. 
 
 " The Cossacks got all their boots. When they cleaned out 
 the izba for the colonel, they dragged 'em out. It was a pity 
 to see, boys," said the dancer. " How they flung them 
 around. One was so alive that, would you believe it, he 
 muttered something in his own language ! A wonderful 
 people." 
 
 " They're a clean people, boys," said the fir^t. " White as 
 a white birch, and some fine fellows among them, I tell you, 
 noblemen." 
 
 " Well, why shouldn't there be ? They've recruited all 
 sorts." 
 
 "But they can't talk with us in our language," said the 
 dancer with a smile of perplexity. " I say to one of 'em, 
 ' Under what crown chei koronui? ' and he talks back in his 
 own gibberish. A wonderful people ! " 
 
 " There's something odd about it, brothers," pursued the 
 one who had been amazed at the whiteness of their skins, 
 " the peasants told me at Mozhaisk that when they started to 
 clear up the dead where the battle was and where their bodies 
 had been laying most a month, and what do you think, says 
 he, theirs was as white as white paper and just as clean, and 
 there wasn't the slightest bit of smell about them." 
 
 "Well, don't you suppose 'twas from the cold ? " suggested 
 one man. 
 
 " Well, you are smart ! From the cold ! Why, it was hot 
 weather. Besides, if it had been from the freezing, then ours 
 wouldn't have spoiled either. But no, says he, when they 
 came to one of ours, he'd be all eaten up with worms, says he. 
 And so, says he, we had to put a handkerchief round our 
 noses and turn away our heads and get 'em off couldn't 
 stand it. But theirs, says he, was like white paper j and not 
 a grain of smell about 'em." 
 
 All were silent. 
 
 "Must be from their victuals," said the sergeant-major, 
 "They feed like gentlemen." 
 
 No one replied to this.
 
 208 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 "This muzhik told me at' Mozhaisk that they came out 
 from a dozen villages and worked twenty days carting ; em 
 off, and didn't get the job done even then the dead, I mean 
 The wolves too, says he " 
 
 11 That battle amounted to something," said an old soldier. 
 '' That was a thing to remember ; but those since, why, they've 
 been nothing but a torment to the boys." 
 
 "Well, little uncle, day before yesterday, we gave it to 
 'em. But they won't let us catch up with 'em. They've been 
 throwing down their muskets lively. Down on their knees ! 
 ' Pardon/ they say. Now take one example. Platof twice 
 took 'Poleon himself. He did not know a word about it. He 
 gets him, gets him. That's the way, has the bird in his hands, 
 lets him go and off he flies, off he flies. And so no chance 
 to kill him." 
 
 " What a healthy liar you are, Kiselef. I'm looking at 
 you." 
 
 " Why liar ? Honest truth ! " 
 
 " If I'd had the chance, I'd given it to him. I'd knocked 
 him down with an aspen cudgel. See how he's ruined us." 
 
 "We'll do it before we get through. No way of his escap- 
 ing," said the old soldier, yawning. 
 
 The conversation died away : the soldiers began to get ready 
 for the night. 
 
 " Just see the stars, terrible lot of them ! One would say 
 the women had been spreading out clothes," said a soldier, 
 pointing to the Milky Way. 
 
 " Signs of a good year, boys." 
 
 " Will any more fuel be needed ? " 
 
 " My back's scorching, but my belly's frozen. Queer things 
 happen." 
 
 " Lord " 
 
 " What are you jabbering about ? Are you the only one, 
 pray, that's burning ? Thexe stretch yourself out." 
 
 Amid the gradually established silence was heard the snor- 
 ing of several sleepers ; the rest kept turning from side to 
 side in their efforts to keep warm, and occasionally uttered 
 exclamations. 
 
 From a bivouac fire a hundred paces distant was heard a 
 burst of jovial, good-natured laughter. 
 
 " Hark ! What a noise they're making in the Fifth Com- 
 pany," said one soldier. " And what a terrible lot of men ! " 
 
 One soldier got up and went over to Company Five. 
 
 " Great fun 1 " said he, when lie came back, '< Tkey 'ye got
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 209 
 
 a couple of Frenchmen : * one's half frozen ; but t'other one's 
 lively enough. He's singing." 
 
 " O-o ? let's go and see ! " 
 
 Several of the soldiers went over to Company Five. 
 
 - 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE Fifth Company were stationed near the grove. A huge 
 bivouac fire was brightly blazing in the midst of the snow, 
 casting its light on the branches of the trees, weighed down 
 with their burden of frost. 
 
 In the midst of the night the soldiers of Company Five 
 had heard steps in the snow, and the cracking of dry branches 
 in the forest. 
 
 " Boys, a bear ! " f cried one soldier. 
 
 All raised their heads and listened; and forth from the 
 forest, into the bright light of the fire, pushed two human 
 forms, strangely clad and holding by each other's hands. 
 
 They were two Frenchmen, who had hidden in the forest. 
 Hoarsely speaking something in a tongue unknown to the 
 soldiers, they approached the fire. . 
 
 One was tall and wore an officer's hat, and seemed perfectly 
 fagged. Approaching the fire, he tried to sit down, but fell 
 flat. 
 
 The other, a small, dumpy private, with his ears tied up in 
 a handkerchief, was stronger. He lifted his comrade, and, 
 pointing to his mouth, said something. 
 
 The soldiers gathered around the Frenchman, spread down 
 a cloak for the sick one, and gave them both kasha-gruel and 
 vodka. 
 
 The enfeebled French officer was Ramball; the one with 
 the handkerchief tied around his ears was his servant Morel. 
 
 When Morel had drunk the vodka and eaten a small kettle 
 of kasha, he suddenly grew painfully jolly, and kept talking 
 all the time, though the soldiers could not understand a. word 
 he said. 
 
 Kamball refused the food, and lay silently leaning on his 
 elbow by the fire, with dull red eyes, staring at the Russians. 
 Occasionally he uttered a long, low groan, and then relapsed 
 into silence. 
 
 * Khrantsiisa. 
 
 t Rebydta, vyedm^d' ! The speaker is from Southern Russia, and says 
 vyedmd' for medvytd'. 
 VOL. 4. 14.
 
 210 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 Morel, pointing to his shoulders, made the soldiers under- 
 stand that he was an officer, and that he needed to be warmed. 
 
 A Russian officer who came up to the bivouac fire sent to 
 ask the colonel if he would not take in a French officer ; and 
 when the messenger said that the colonel ordered the officer 
 to be brought to him, Eamball was invited to go. 
 
 He got up arid tried to walk, but tottered, and would have 
 fallen if a soldier who happened to be standing near had not 
 supported him. 
 
 " What ? Can't you come it ? " asked one soldier, turning 
 to Ramball with a wink and a grin. 
 
 " Oh, you idiot ! durak ! " " Can't you have some decency ? " 
 u What a muzhik ! Truly a muzhik ! " were heard in 
 accents of reproach to the jesting soldier. 
 
 They gathered round Ramball ; two of them lifted him up 
 in their arms and bore him to the izba. He threw his arms 
 around their necks and kept repeating in piteous tones": 
 " Oh ! Tries braves, oh mes bans, mes bons amis ! Voila des 
 hommes ! oh mes braves, mes bons amis ! " and like a child 
 rested his head on the shoulder of one of the soldiers. 
 
 Meantime Morel sat in the seat of honor, surrounded by 
 the soldiers. 
 
 Morel, a little squat Frenchman, with inflamed, teary eyes, 
 with a woman's handkerchief tied over his cap, was dressed 
 in a woman's shabby sheepskin shubyonka. The vodka had 
 evidently gone to his head, and he, while holding the hand of 
 the soldier who sat next him, was singing, in a hoarse, broken 
 voice, a French song. 
 
 The soldiers held their sides as they looked at him. 
 
 "Now then, now then, teach us that. How does it go? 
 I'll catch it in a moment. How is it ? " asked the jester, 
 who was a singer, and whose hand Morel had seized. 
 
 " Vim Henri Quatre ! 
 Vive ce roi vaillant ! " 
 
 sang Morel, winking one eye. 
 
 "Ce (liable a quatre! . . ."* 
 
 " Vivarikd Vif seruvaru ! Sidiobliakd ! " repeated the sol- 
 dier, beating time with his hand, and actually catching the 
 tune. " See how clever ! ho ! ho ! ho ! ho ! ho ! " 
 
 * " Live Henry IV. ! Long live the gallant king," etc. (French song.)
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 211 
 
 arose the coarse, jocund laughter from every side. Morel, 
 frowning, laughed also. 
 
 " Well, give us some more, more ! " 
 
 " Qui eut le triple talent 
 De boire, de battre, 
 Et d'etre un vert galant ! " * 
 
 " Now that goes well, too ! " " Now, then, Zaletayef ! n 
 
 " Kiu f " repeated Zaletayef, with a will, " kiu iu 
 iu" he dwelt on the diphthong, trying to stick out his 
 lips, " letrlptala de bu de ba i detravagala" he sang. 
 
 " Ai ! splendid ! He's a real Frenchy ! " 
 
 " O'i ! ho ! ho ! ho ! ho ! " " Don't you want something 
 more to eat ? " 
 
 " Give him some more kasha ! It'll take some time to fill 
 np his hunger." 
 
 They gave him another bowl of the gruel, and then Morel, 
 laughing, took still a third. Jovial smiles broadened the faces 
 of all the young soldiers as they looked at Morel. The old 
 veterans, counting it unseemly to descend to such trivialities, 
 lay on the other side of the fire, but occasionally raised them- 
 selves on their elbows and stared at Morel. 
 
 "They're men like us," said one of them, as he wrapped 
 himself up in his cloak. " Even wormwood has roots to grow 
 by." Oo ! Lord ! Lord ! What' a terrible lot of stars \ It's 
 going to be a cold night." 
 
 And all grew silent again. 
 
 The stars, as though knowing that now no one was looking 
 at them, played merrily in the dark sky. Now flashing out, 
 now dying down again, now twinkling, they seemed to be 
 busily engaged in communing among themselves concerning 
 something pleasant but mysterious. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE French troops melted away in a regular mathematical 
 progression. 
 
 Even this passage of the Beresina, about which so much has 
 been written, was only one of the intermediate steps in the 
 destruction of the French army, and not at all a decisive epi- 
 sode of the campaign. 
 
 * " Who had the threefold talent of drinking, of fighting, and of being 
 loved."
 
 212 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 If so much has been written and still is written about the 
 Beresina, it is, so far as concerns the French, simply because 
 the misfortunes which the French army had, up to that time, 
 endured coming steadily, here suddenly accumulated in one 
 moment at the broken bridge on the river one tragic disas- 
 ter, which remained in the memory of all. 
 
 On the part of the Russians much has been talked and 
 written about the Beresina, simply because at Petersburg, far 
 away from the theatre of war, a plan was made (by Pfuhl) for 
 drawing Napoleon into a strategical snare on the river Beresina. 
 
 All were persuaded that everything would be carried out in 
 conformity with the plan, and therefore they insisted that 
 the passage of the Beresina was the destruction of the French. 
 
 In reality, the results of the passage of the Beresina were 
 far less disastrous to the French in loss of artillery and prison- 
 ers than the battle of Krasnoye, as is proved by statistics. 
 
 The sole significance of the passage of the Beresina li-es in 
 this, that it proved beyond a doubt the absurdity of all plans 
 for cutting off the retreat of the French, and the correctness 
 of the only feasible operation, that demanded by Kutuzof 
 and all the troops (as a whole), the idea of simply pursuing 
 the enemy. 
 
 The throngs of the French hurried on with constantly in* 
 creasing velocity, with all their energies concentrated upon 
 reaching their goal. They fled like a wounded animal, and it 
 was impossible to stop them in their course. 
 
 This is proved not so much by the arrangements made for 
 the passage as by what occurred at the bridges. 
 
 When the bridges were destroyed, soldiers, without 
 weapons, natives of Moscow, women and children, who were 
 in convoy of the French, all carried away by the force of 
 inertia, instead of giving themselves up, pushed on, throwing 
 themselves into the boats or into the icy waters. 
 
 This impetus was a matter of course. 
 
 The situation of the fugitives and of the pursuers was 
 equally bad. Each one being in company with his fellows 
 in misfortune had hope of their help from the definite place 
 which he held among his fellows. 
 
 If he surrendered to the Russians, he would be in the same 
 condition of wretchedness, would indeed be far worse off as 
 far as all the requirements of living were concerned. 
 
 The French did not need exact information of the fact that 
 half of the prisoners whom the Russians did not know what 
 to do with, in spite of their desires to save them, had died 
 of hunger and starvation.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 The most compassionate Eussian generals, those well dis- 
 posed toward the French, Frenchmen in the Russian service, 
 could do nothing for the prisoners. The French perished of 
 the miseries which attended the Russian army. 
 
 It was an impossibility to take from their famished soldiers 
 bread and clothes in order to give them to the French, how- 
 ever inoffensive, friendly, and even innocent they might be. 
 
 A few even did this, but they were only exceptions. 
 
 Behind the French was certain destruction; before them 
 was hope. They had burned their ships, there was no other 
 safety than in associated flight ; and upon this associated flight 
 all the energies of the French were concentrated. 
 
 The farther the French fled and the more pitiable the condi- 
 tion of their remnants became, especially after the Beresina, 
 on which, in consequence of the Petersburg plan, especial 
 hopes were rested, the more frantically excited waxed the 
 passions of the Russian generals, who indulged in recrimina- 
 tions of each other and especially of Kutuzof. 
 
 Taking for granted that the failure of the Petersburg plan 
 at the Beresina would be attributed to him, their discontent 
 with him, their scorn of him, and their sarcasms at his ex- 
 pense were -expressed with greater and greater violence. 
 Their sarcasms and scorn, of course, were couched under the 
 form of respect, so that Kutuzof could not demand in what 
 way and why he was blamed. 
 
 They never talked with him seriously j while making their 
 reports to him and asking his advice, they affected to conform 
 with the gravest ceremony, but behind his back they winked at 
 each other and at every step tried to deceive him. 
 
 All these men, from the very reason that they could not 
 understand him, were convinced that there was nothing to be 
 said to this old man, that he would never penetrate into all 
 the wisdom of their plans, that he would simply repeat his 
 phrases it seemed to them they were nothing but phrases 
 about "the golden bridge,'" and that he could not think of 
 crossing the border with a troop of vagabonds. 
 
 This was all that he had ever been heard to say. And all 
 that he said, for example, that it was necessary to wait for 
 provisions, that the men were unprovided with boots, all this 
 was so simple, and all that they proposed was so complicated 
 and deep, that it was a self-evident truth for them that he was 
 stupid and old, and they were the commanders of genius, who 
 were only lacking in power. 
 
 Especially after that brilliant admiral and hero, Wittgen-
 
 214 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 stein, from Petersburg, joined the army, this disposition and 
 this disaffection reached its height. Kutuzof saw it, and, sigh- 
 ing, simply shrugged his shoulders. But one time after the 
 Beresina he lost his temper, and wrote the following note 
 to Wittgenstein, who had made a special report to the sov- 
 ereign. 
 
 " Owing to your severe attacks of illness, your excellency * will be kind 
 enough on receipt of this to retire to Kaluga, where you will await his 
 imperial majesty's further commands and orders." 
 
 But after the retirement of Benigsen came the Grand Duke 
 Konstantin Pavlovitch, who had been present at the begin- 
 ning of the campaign and had been removed from Kutuzof's 
 army. Now the grand duke, on reaching the army, assured 
 Kutuzof of the dissatisfaction of his majesty the emperor at 
 the insufficient successes of our troops and the slowness, of 
 our movements, and informed him that his majesty the 
 emperor, himself, intended shortly to be present with the 
 army. 
 
 This old man, who was no less experienced in the affairs 
 of courts than in affairs military, this Kutuzof, who had been 
 appointed commander-in-chief the previous Aifgust against 
 the sovereign's will, this man who sent the heir-apparent 
 and the grand duke away from the army, who by the power 
 invested in him had signed the abandonment of Moscow, this 
 same Kutuzof now instantly realized that his time was come, 
 that his part was played, and that the semblance of power 
 which he had held was his no more. 
 
 And not by his court instinct alone did he realize this. On 
 the one hand, he saw that the war in which he had played his 
 part was ended, and he felt that his calling was fulfilled. On 
 the other hand, at the same time, he began to feel physical 
 weariness in his old frame and the absolute need of physical 
 rest. 
 
 Kutuzof, on the eleventh of December, arrived at Vilno 
 "his good Vilno," as he called it. Twice during his career 
 Kutuzof had been governor of Vilno. In the rich city, which 
 had not suffered from the devastation of war, Kutuzof found, 
 besides the amenities of life, of which he had been deprived 
 so long, old friends and pleasant recollections. And suddenly, 
 casting off all military and governmental cares, he plunged 
 into this calm, equable life so far as he was allowed to do so 
 by the passions seething around him, as though all that was 
 * Vashe vuisokoprevoskhodityelstvQ.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 215 
 
 occurring and about to occur in the historical world concerned 
 him not. 
 
 Chitchagof, one of the most disaffected and volatile of men, 
 Chitchagof, who had at first been anxious to make a diver- 
 sion into Greece and afterwards against Warsaw, though he 
 was never willing to go where he was sent, Chitchagof, who 
 was famous for his audacious speech to the sovereign, Chi- 
 tchagof, who considered himself Kutuzof's benefactor, because 
 when, in 1811, he had been sent to conclude peace with Turkey, 
 without Kutuzof's knowledge, he, on discovering that the 
 peace was already concluded, acknowledged before the sover- 
 eign that the credit of concluding the peace belonged to Kutu- 
 zof, this same Chitchagof was the first to meet Kutuzof 
 at the castle of Vilno, where Kutuzof was to be lodged. 
 Chitchagof, in naval undress uniform, holding his forage cap 
 under his arm, gave Kutuzof his report and handed him the 
 keys of the city. 
 
 That scornfully respectful demeanor of the young to Kutu- 
 zof, who was regarded as in his dotage, was shown in the 
 highest degree in all the behavior of Chitchagof, who knew of 
 the charges made against his senior. 
 
 While engaged in conversation with Chitchagof, he told him, 
 among other things, that the carriages with plate which had 
 been captured from him at Borisovo were safe and would be 
 restored to him. 
 
 " You wish to inform me that I have nothing to eat on. 
 On the contrary, I can furnish you with everything even in 
 case you should wish to give dinner-parties,"* replied Chi- 
 tchagof angrily, in every word that he spoke wishing to prove 
 his correctness of style, and therefore supposing that Kutuzof 
 was occupied with the same. 
 
 Kutuzof smiled his peculiar, shrewd smile, and, shrugging 
 his shoulders, replied, " Ce n'est que pour dire ce que je vous 
 dis" " It was only to tell you that I told you." 
 
 Kutuzof, contrary to the sovereign's wish, kept the larger 
 part of the army at Vilno. Kutuzof, according to those who 
 had most to do with him, was greatly shaken and was very 
 weak physically during his stay at Vilno. It was with a 
 very bad grace that he occupied himself with military affairs ; 
 he intrusted everything to his generals, and, while waiting for 
 the sovereign, gave himself up to a life of dissipation. 
 
 * " C'estpour me dire qiieje rial pas sur quoi manger . . . Jepuisaucon- 
 traire vous fournir de tout dans le cat meme ou vous voudriez donner des 
 diners."
 
 216 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 When, on the twenty-third of December, the sovereign with 
 his suite, Count Tolstoi, Prince Volkonsky, Arakcheyef, and 
 others, after a four days' journey from Petersburg, reached 
 Vilno, he drove in his travelling sledge directly to the castle. 
 In spite of the severe cold, a hundred generals and staff offi- 
 cers, in full-diess uniform, and the guard of honor of the 
 Semyonovsky regiment, were waiting at the castle. 
 
 A courier, dashing up to the castle in a sledge drawn by a 
 sweaty troika, cried, " He's coming ! " Konovnitsuin hurried 
 into the vestibule to inform Kutuzof, who was expecting him 
 in the small room of the concierge. 
 
 At the end of a moment the old general's stout, portly form, 
 in full-dress uniform, his full regalia covering his chest, and 
 with a scarf tied around his abdomen, came tottering and 
 swaying to the head of the stairs. Kutuzof put his three- 
 cornered hat on, point front, took his gloves in his hand, and, 
 letting himself painfully, toilsomely sideways down the steps, 
 stepped forth and took in his hand the report which had been 
 prepared to give to the sovereign. 
 
 There was a running to and fro, a sound of hurried talking, 
 another troika came unexpectedly flying by, and all eyes were 
 fixed on a sledge that came flying along, in which could be 
 already seen the figures of the sovereign and Volkonsky. 
 
 All this had its physically exciting effect on the old general, 
 though he had been used to it for half a century. With a 
 hasty, nervous movement he adjusted his decorations and 
 straightened his hat, and the instant that the sovereign, step- 
 ping out of the sledge, raised his eyes to him, taking courage 
 and lifting himself up to his full height, he handed him 
 the report and began to speak in his measured, ingratiating 
 voice. 
 
 The sovereign, with a swift glance, measured Kutuzof from 
 head to feet, frowned for an instant, but, instantly mastering 
 himself, stepped forward, and, stretching out his arms, embraced 
 the old general. 
 
 Once more, owing to the old familiar impression and to the 
 thoughts that came surging into his mind, this embrace had 
 its usual effect upon Kutuzof : he sobbed. 
 
 The sovereign greeted the officers and the Semyonovsky 
 Guard, and, having once more shaken hands with the old 
 general, he went with him into the castle. 
 
 After the sovereign was left alone with his field-marshal, 
 he freely expressed his dissatisfaction with the slowness of 
 die pursuit, with the mistakes made at Krasnoye and on the
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 217 
 
 Beresina, and gave him his ideas as to what should be the 
 coming campaign beyond the frontier. 
 
 Kutuzof made no reply or remark. That same submissive 
 and stupid expression with which seven years before he had 
 listened to his sovereign's comments on the field of Austerlitz 
 rested now on his face. 
 
 When Kutuzof left the cabinet and was passing along the 
 hall with his heavy, plunging gait and with sunken head, some 
 one's voice called him back. 
 
 "Your serene highness," cried some one. 
 
 Kutuzof raised his head and looked long into the eyes of 
 Count Tolstoi, who with a small trinket on a silver platter 
 stood before him. 
 
 Kutuzof apparently knew not what was wanted of him. 
 
 Suddenly he came to himself ; a scarcely perceptible smile 
 flashed across his pudgy face, and, making a low and respect- 
 ful bow, he took the object lying on the platter. 
 
 It was ' the George " of the first degree. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 THE next day the field-marshal gave a dinner and a ball 
 which the sovereign honored with his presence. 
 
 Kutuzof had received the George of the first degree ; the 
 sovereign had paid him the highest honors ; but the sover- 
 eign's dissatisfaction toward the field-marshal was noticeable 
 to every one. The proprieties were strictly observed, and the 
 sovereign set the first example of this ; but all knew that the 
 old general was considered blameworthy and unfit for further 
 employment. 
 
 When, at the ball, Kutuzof, in accordance with an old cus- 
 tom of Catherine's time, commanded the standards captured 
 from the enemy to be inclined before the sovereign as he 
 entered the ball-room, the sovereign frowned with annoyance, 
 and muttered certain words, among which some overheard the 
 expression, " Stand Komedidnt the old actor ! " 
 
 The sovereign's dissatisfaction with Kutuzof was increased in 
 Vilno, especially because Kutuzof evidently would not or could 
 not understand the significance of the campaign before him. 
 
 When, on the following morning, the sovereign said to the 
 officers who came to pay their respects to him, " You have 
 saved not Russia alone ; you have saved all Europe," every 
 one very well understood that the war was not ended.
 
 218 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 Kutuzof was the only one who would not see this, and he 
 openly expressed his opinion that a new war could not im- 
 prove the position or increase the glory of Russia, but could 
 only weaken her position and diminish the already lofty pin- 
 nacle of glory on which Russia, in his opinion, was now stand- 
 ing. He endeavored to show the sovereign the impossibility 
 of recruiting fresh armies ; he spoke about the difficult posi- 
 tion of the inhabitants, and hinted at the possibility of failure 
 and the like. 
 
 Having such ideas, the field-marshal naturally made himself 
 only a hinde ranee and a stumbling-block in the way of the war 
 then beginning. 
 
 In order to avoid collisions with the old general, a conven- 
 ient way presented itself, which was : just as at Austerlitz, 
 and as at the beginning of the campaign when Barclay was 
 commander-in-chief, to take out from under the commander- 
 in-chief the ground of the power whereon he stood, without 
 disturbing him, or even letting him realize it, and to transfer 
 it to the sovereign himself. 
 
 With this end in view, the staff was gradually re-formed, 
 and all that constituted the strength of Kutuzofs staff was 
 destroyed or transferred to the sovereign's. 
 
 Toll, Konovnitsuin, Yermolof, received other appointments. 
 All openly expressed the opinion that the field-marshal was 
 becoming very weak, and that his health was in a precarious 
 condition. 
 
 It was necessary for him to be in " weak health," so that he 
 might transfer his place to his successor. And the truth was 
 his health was feeble. 
 
 Just as naturally and simply and gradually as Kutuzof had 
 been summoned from Turkey to appear in the court of the 
 exchequer at Petersburg to take charge of the landwehr and 
 afterwards of the army, so now when it was necessary it came 
 about just as naturally, gradually, and simply, when Kutuzofs 
 part had been played to the end, that his place should be filled 
 by the new actor that was required. 
 
 The war of 1812, besides accomplishing the national object 
 so dear to every Russian heart, was destined to have another 
 significance still : one European. 
 
 The movements of the nations from west to east was to be 
 followed by a movement from east to west, and for this new 
 war a new actor was needed, who had other qualities and views 
 from those of Kutuzof, and was moved by other impulses. 
 
 Alexander the First was as necessary to move the nations
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 219 
 
 from east to west and to establish the boundaries of the 
 nations as Kutuzof had been for the salvation and glory of 
 Russia. 
 
 Kutuzof had no notion of the meaning of Europe, the 
 Balance of Power, Napoleon. He could not understand this. 
 For the representative of the Kussian people, after the enemy 
 had been annihilated, Russia saved and established on the 
 highest pinnacle of her glory, for him a Russian, as a Russian, 
 there was nothing left to do. For the representative of the 
 national war there was nothing -left except death. 
 
 And he died. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 PIERRE, as is generally the case, felt the whole burden of 
 his physical deprivations, and the long strain to which he had 
 been subjected while a prisoner, only when the strain and the 
 privations were at an end. 
 
 After his liberation he went to Orel ; * and on the second 
 day after his arrival, just as he was about to start for Kief, 
 he was taken ill, and remained in Orel for three months. 
 
 He had what the doctors called bilious fever. 
 
 In spite of the fact that the doctors treated him, bled him, 
 and made him swallow drugs, he nevertheless recovered. 
 
 All that had happened to him between the time of his lib- 
 eration and his sickness left scarcely the faintest impression 
 upon him. He remembered only gray melancholy, sometimes 
 rainy, sometimes snowy days, internal physical distress) pain 
 in his legs, in his side ; he had a general impression of un- 
 happy, suffering people ; he recollected the annoying inquisi- 
 tiveness of officers and generals, who asked him all sorts of 
 questions; his 'difficulties in finding carriages and horses; and, 
 above all, he recalled his disconnected thoughts and his feel- 
 ings at the time. 
 
 On the day that he was liberated, he saw Petya Rostof's 
 dead body. On the same day he learned that Prince Andrei 
 had lived more than a month after the battle of Borodino, and 
 had died only a short time previously, at Yaroslavl, at the 
 Rostofs' house. 
 
 On that same day, also, Denisof, who had given Pierre this 
 piece of news, spoke of Ellen's death, supposing that Pierre 
 had known about it long before. 
 
 * Pronounced Aryol.
 
 220 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 All this, at that time, had merely seemed strange to Pierre. 
 He felt that he could not take in the significance of all this 
 news. 
 
 His sole desire at that time was to get away as speedily as 
 possible from those places where men were killing each other, 
 to some quiet refuge, and there to collect his senses, to rest, 
 and to think over all that was so strange and new that he had 
 learned in those days. 
 
 But as soon as he reached Orel he was taken ill. When he 
 regained his consciousness, he saw two of his servants, 
 Terentii and Vaska, who had come from Moscow, and the 
 oldest of the princesses, who had been residing at Yelets, on 
 one of Pierre's estates, and, hearing of his liberation and ill- 
 ness, had come to take care of him. 
 
 During his convalescence, Pierre only gradually got rid of 
 the impressions which the preceding months had made upon 
 him, and accustomed himself to the thought that no one would 
 drive him forth the next morning, that no one would dis- 
 possess him of his warm bed, and that he was certain to have 
 dinner and tea and supper. But in his dreams he still, for a 
 long time, continued to see himself in the same conditions of 
 captivity. 
 
 In the same way Pierre gradually came back to realization 
 of the news which he had heard on the day of his liberation : 
 Prince Andrei's death, the destruction of the French. 
 
 The joyous feeling of freedom, that perfect, inalienable 
 freedom inherent in man, a realizing sense of which he had 
 for the first time experienced at the first halting-place, when 
 he was carried away from Moscow, filled Pierre's soul during 
 his convalescence. He was amazed that this inner freedom, 
 independent of all external circumstances, now, as it were, 
 surrounded him with an excess, with a luxury of external 
 freedom. 
 
 He was alone in a strange city, where he had ho acquaint- 
 ances. No one wanted anything of him, no one forced him to 
 go anywhere against his will. He had everything that he 
 wanted ; the thought about his wife, that had formerly tor- 
 mented him, had vanished as though she had never existed. 
 
 " Ah, how good ! how splendid ! " he would say to himself, 
 when a table with a clean cloth was moved up to him with 
 fragrant bouillon, or when, at night, he lay stretched out on 
 the soft, clean bed, or when he remembered that his wife and 
 the French no longer existed. "Ah! how good! how splen- 
 did ! " And out of old habit he would ask himself the ques-
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 221 
 
 tions : " Well, what is to be ? what am I going to do ? " and 
 instantly he would answer himself, " Nothing at all ! I'm 
 going to live. Akh ! how glorious ! " 
 
 The very thing that he had formerly tormented himself 
 about, and constantly sought in vain, an object in life, 
 now no longer existed for him. 
 
 This long-sought-for object of life was not merely absent 
 by chance for the time being, but he felt that it did not exist 
 and could not exist. And it was precisely this absence of an 
 object in life which at this time constituted his happiness. 
 
 He could have no object, because now he had a faith not 
 a faith in any rules or creed or dogmas, but faith in a living, 
 everywhere perceptible God. 
 
 Hitherto he had .sought for God in objects which he had set 
 for himself. This searching for the object was only the seek- 
 ing for God, and suddenly, during his captivity, he had learned, 
 not from words, not from reasoning, but from his immediate 
 consciousness, what his old nurse had used long, long before 
 to say, that God was here, there, and everywhere. 
 
 He had learned, during his captivity, that God in Karatayef 
 was more majestic, endless, and past finding out, than in what 
 the Masons called the Architect of the Universe. 
 
 He had a similar experience to that of the man who should 
 find under his very feet the object of his search, when he 
 had been straining his eyes in looking at a great distance. 
 All his life long he had been looking away over the heads of 
 the surrounding people, while all the time there had been no 
 need to strain his eyes, but merely to look straight ahfcad. 
 
 He had not been able hitherto to see the Great, the Incom- 
 prehensible, the Infinite in anything. He had only felt that 
 It ought to be somewhere, and he had searched for it. 
 
 In all that was near and comprehensible, he had seen only 
 what was limited, the narrow, finite, meaningless. He had 
 provided himself with a mental telescope, and looked out into 
 the distance, yonder, where this narrow, finite object, concealed 
 in the murky distance, seemed to him great and infinite, 
 simply because it was not clearly seen. 
 
 In this way European life, politics, Masonry, philosophy, 
 philanthropy, had presented themselves to him. 
 
 But at the very moments when he had accounted himself 
 most weak his mind had leapt forth into that same distance, 
 and then he had seen how small and narrow, how finite and 
 meaningless, it all was. 
 
 Now, however, he had learned to see the Great, the Eternal,
 
 222 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 and the Infinite in everything, and therefore, naturally, in 
 order to see it, in order to enjoy the contemplation of it, he 
 had thrown away his telescope, through which he had, till 
 then, been looking over men's heads, and joyfully contem- 
 plated the ever changing, incomprehensible, and eternal life 
 all around him. And the more closely he looked, the more 
 serene and happy he became. 
 
 The terrible question which hitherto had overturned all his 
 mental edifices the question Why no longer tormented 
 him. His mind had always ready the simple answer : Because 
 God is, that God without whose will not a hair falls from the 
 head of a human being. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 PIERRE had scarcely changed in his outward habits. 
 
 At first sight he was just the same as he had been before. 
 Just as before he was absent-minded, and seemed inly absorbed, 
 not in what was before his eyes, but in his own thoughts. 
 The difference between his former and his present self lay in 
 this : hitherto, when he had forgotten what was before him, or 
 paid no attention to what was said to him, he would wrinkle 
 his brows with a martyr-like air, as though striving, but without 
 success, to study into something that was far away. Now in 
 the same way he was inattentive to what was said to him, and 
 oblivious of what was before him ; but now with a scarcely 
 perceptible, what one might almost think a satirical, smile, he 
 looked at what was before him. he listened to what was said 
 to him, although it was evident that his eyes and his mind 
 were concerned with something entirely different. 
 
 Hitherto he had seemed to be a good man, but unhappy, 
 and therefore people could not help being repelled by him. 
 Now a smile, called forth by the mere pleasure of living, con- 
 stantly played around his mouth, and his eyes were lighted 
 up by a sympathetic interest in people, in the question 
 " Were they as happy as he was ? " 
 
 And people liked to be with him. 
 
 Hitherto he had talked much, got easily excited, and was a 
 poor listener ; now he was rarely carried away by the heat of 
 an argument, and had become such a good listener that people 
 were glad to tell him the deepest secrets of their hearts. 
 
 The princess, who had never liked Pierre and had cherished 
 a peculiar feeling of animosity against him ever since that
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 223 
 
 time when after the count's death she had found herself under 
 obligations to him, greatly to her annoyance and surprise, 
 after a short stay at Orel, whither she came with the inten- 
 tion of showing Pierre that, in spite of his " ingratitude," she 
 considered it her duty to take care of him, the princess 
 quickly felt that she was growing fond of him. 
 
 Pierre did nothing for the sake of winning her good graces. 
 He merely studied her with curiosity. Hitherto the princess 
 had felt that only indifference and irony were expressed in 
 his view of her, and she shrank into herself before him, just 
 as she did in the presence of other people, and showed only 
 her harsh and disagreeable side ; while now she at first with 
 distrust, but afterwards with gratitude, showed him the good 
 side of her character, which she had kept hidden. 
 
 The craftiest of men could not have been more skilful in 
 winning the princess's confidence, than he was in eliciting her 
 recollections of the happiest days of her youth, and express- 
 ing his sympathy. But all the time Pierre's whole craft con- 
 sisted in his seeking his own pleasure in calling out humane 
 feelings in the spiteful, acidulous princess, who had her own 
 measure of pride. 
 
 " Yes, he is a very, very good man when he is under the influ- 
 ence of people who are not bad of people like myself," said 
 ;he princess to herself. 
 
 The change that had taken place in Pierre was remarked, in 
 fcheir own way, by his servants Terentii and Vaska. They 
 found that he had grown vastly more simple. 
 
 Terentii oftentimes, while undressing his barin, and while 
 he had his boots and his clothes in his hand, and had wished 
 him good-night, would hesitate about leaving the room, think- 
 ing that his barin might like to engage him in conversation. 
 And it was a very common occurrence for Pierre to call 
 Terentii back, noticing that he was in a mood for talking. 
 
 "Well, now, tell me how did you manage to get anything 
 to eat ? " he would ask. 
 
 And Terentii would begin to relate about the destruction of 
 Moscow, or about the late count, and would stand for a long 
 time with the clothes in his hand, telling stories, or sometimes 
 listening to Pierre's yarns, and then, with a pleasing sense of 
 nearness to his barin and of friendliness to him, go 'into the 
 anteroom. 
 
 The doctor who had charge of Pierre's case, and who visited 
 him every day, in spite of the fact that, in accordance with the 
 custom of doctors, ie felt it his duty to assume the mien of a
 
 224 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 man every minute of whose time was precious in the care of 
 suffering humanity, would spend hours with Pierre, relating 
 his favorite stories and making his observations 011 the pecul- 
 iarities of the sick in general, and the ladies in particular. 
 
 "Yes, there is something delightful in talking with such a 
 man very different from what one finds in the provinces," 
 he would say. 
 
 In Orel there were several French officers who had been 
 taken prisoner, and the doctor brought one of them, a 
 young Italian, to see Pierre. 
 
 This officer began to be a frequent visitor, and the princess 
 laughed at the sentimental affection which the Italian con- 
 ceived for Pierre. 
 
 The Italian was happy only when he could be with Pierre 
 and talk with him, and tell him about his past, about his 
 home life, about his love affairs, and pour out in his ears his 
 indignation against the French and particularly against Napo- 
 leon. 
 
 " If all the Russians are in the least like you,' 7 he would 
 say to Pierre, " it is a sacrilege to wage war on a people like 
 yours c'est un sacrilege que de faire la guerre d, un peuple 
 comme le votre ! Though you have suffered so much from the 
 French, yet you seem to have no ill will against them." 
 
 This passionate love shown by the Italian, Pierre had won 
 only because he had brought out in him the best side of his 
 nature and took pleasure in him. 
 
 During the latter part of Pierre's stay in Orel, he received 
 a visit from his old acquaintance, the Freemason Count Vil- 
 larsky the same one who had introduced him into the lodge 
 in 1807. Villarsky had married a rich Russian lady, who had 
 a great estate in the government of Orel, and lie held a tem- 
 porary position in the commissariat department in the city. 
 
 Learning that Bezukhoi was in Orel, Villarsky, though his 
 acquaintance with him had been far from intimate, came to 
 call upon him with the same manifestations of friendship and 
 neighborliness which men are apt to show each other when 
 they meet in a wilderness. Villarsky was bored to death in 
 Orel, and he was delighted to meet a man of the same social 
 rank as. himself, and with similar interests, as he supposed. 
 But Villarsky quickly discovered, to his amazement, that 
 Pierre was far behind the times and had fallen into a state of 
 apathy and egotism, as he expressed it in criticising Pierre to 
 himself. 
 
 " Vous vous encrotitez, mon cker^-you are Becoming 4
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 225 
 
 fossil," he would say to him. Nevertheless Villarsky was 
 more at home with Pierre than he had ever been in times past, 
 and he came to see him every day. 
 
 As Pierre looked at Villarsky and listened to him now, it 
 was strange and almost incredible to think that he himself 
 had been like him only such a short time before. * 
 
 Villarsky was a married, family man, occupied with the busi- 
 ness connected with his wife's estate, and with his public 
 duties and with his family. He looked upon all these occu- 
 pations as a hinderance to life, and felt that they were all 
 worthy of contempt, because their end and aim was the per- 
 sonal advantage of himself and his wife. Military, administra- 
 tive, political, and Masonic affairs constantly engrossed his 
 attention. And Pierre, without making any effort to change 
 Villarsky's views, and not blaming him, studied this strange 
 but only too well-known phenomenon with his now constantly 
 gentle and pleasant smile of irony. 
 
 In Pierre's relations with Villarsky, with the princess, with 
 the doctor, with all the people with whom he was now brought 
 in contact, he displayed a new characteristic, which won for 
 him the good will of all men : this was the recognition of 
 the possibility of every one to think and feel for himself, and 
 to look upon things in his own way ; the recognition of the 
 impossibility of convincing any one of anything by mere 
 words : this legitimate, lawful prerogative of every man, which 
 formerly had excited and annoyed him, now gave him ground for 
 the sympathy and interest which he felt in people. The 
 variance and sometimes the perfect contradiction between the 
 views of people and his life, and among themselves,, delighted 
 Pierre, and brought to his lips a gentle, satirical smile. 
 
 In practical affairs Pierre now unexpectedly felt that he 
 had a centre of gravity, that had been lacking before. Hith- 
 erto, every question concerning finance, especially demands 
 upon him for money, to which, like every rich man, he was 
 often subjected, aroused in him helpless worry and perplexity. 
 
 To give, or not to give ? that was the question with him. " I 
 have it and he needs it. But another one needs it still more. 
 Which needs it the most ? But perhaps both are frauds." 
 
 And in days gone by, out of all these hypotheses he had 
 found no exit, and was in the habit of giving to all indiscrimi- 
 nately, so long as he had anything to give. He used to find 
 himself in precisely the same quandary at every question 
 which concerned his estate, when one would say that he must 
 do this way, and another would recommend another way. 
 VOL. 4. 15.
 
 226 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 Now he found, to his amazement, that he was troubled no 
 longer with doubts and perplexities. He now ssemed to have 
 some sense of judgment, which, deciding by some laws un- 
 known to himself, decided what was necessary and what was 
 unnecessary for him to do. 
 
 H,e was no less than before indifferent to pecuniary mat- 
 ters ; but now he knew infallibly what he ought to do and 
 what not. The first time that this new sense of justice had to 
 decide a question was in the case of one of the prisoners, a 
 French colonel, who came to him, told him many stories of his 
 ^reat exploits, and, Anally, almost demanded that Pierre 
 should give him four tlicmsaud francs to send to his wife and 
 children. 
 
 Pierre, without the slightest iffic Ay or effort, refused him, 
 amazed afterwards to find how simple .aid easy it was to do 
 what had always before seemed to him unutterably difficult. 
 
 At the very time, however, that he refused ^e colonel, he 
 made up his mind that it required the utmost shrewdness in 
 order, on the eve of his departure from Orel, to induce the 
 Italian officer to take some money, which he evidently neeudd. 
 
 A new proof for Pierre of the greater soundness in his 
 views of practical affairs was his decision of the question con- 
 cerning his wife's debts, and whether his house in Moscow and 
 his Pod-Moskovnaya datcha or villa should be rebuilt or not. 
 
 While he was at Orel, his head overseer came to hint, and 
 he and Pierre made out a general schedule of his altered in- 
 come. The conflagration of Moscow had cost Pierre, accord- 
 ing to the overseer's reckoning, about two millions. 
 
 The head overseer, as a measure of relief for his losses, pro- 
 posed a scheme whereby, notwithstanding the losses, hie 
 income would be not only not diminished, but rather in- 
 creased, and this was that he should refuse to honor the debts 
 left by the late countess, for which he was not accountable, 
 and should not rebuild his Moscow house and Pod-Moskovnaya 
 datcha, which cost him, to keep up, eighty thousand a year, and 
 brought him in nothing. 
 
 " Yes, yes, that is true," said Pierre, gayly smiling. " Yes, 
 yes, I don't need it at all. The fire has made me vastly 
 richer ! ',' 
 
 But in January Savelyitch came from Moscow, told him 
 about the condition of the city, about the estimate which the 
 architect had made for rebuilding the Moscow mansion and 
 the Pod-Moskovnaya, and spoke about it as though it were a 
 matter already decided.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 227 
 
 At the same time Pierre received letters from Prince Vasili 
 and other acquaintances in Petersburg. These letters men- 
 tioned his wife's debts. And Pierre decided that the scheme 
 proposed by his head overseer, which had pleased him so much 
 at first, was not right, and that he must go to Petersburg to 
 wind up his wife's business affairs, and settle down in Mos- 
 cow. Why this was necessary he knew not ; he only knew 
 beyond a peradventure that it was necessary. His income, in 
 consequence of this decision, would be diminished three- 
 fourths ; but it was a case of necessity ; he felt it. 
 
 Villarsky was going to Moscow, and they decided to travel 
 together. 
 
 Pierre had experienced during all the time of his convales- 
 cence, in Orel, a sense of delight, of freedom, of life ; but 
 when, during his journey, he came out into the free world and 
 saw hundreds of new faces, this feeling was still further in- 
 tensified. 
 
 During all the time of his journey he felt as happy as a 
 schoolboy at having his vacation. All the faces, the pos- 
 tilion, the watchman,* the peasants along the road or in the 
 village, all had a new meaning for him. 
 
 The presence of Villarsky, with his observations and his 
 constantly expressed regret at the poverty, barbarism, and 
 backwardness of Eussia compared with Europe, only height- 
 ened Pierre's delight. 
 
 Where Villarsky saw only deadness, Pierre saw the extraor- 
 dinary fecund power of life, that power which, in the snow, 
 in that expanse of plains, upheld the life of this united, pecul- 
 iar, and unique people. He did not contradict Villarsky, and 
 affected to agree with him since pretended agreement was 
 the shortest means of avoiding arguments from which there 
 was no escape and, gayly smiling, listened to him. 
 
 CHAPTEE XIV. 
 
 JUST as it is hard to explain why and whither the ants rush 
 from a dismantled ant-hill, some dragging away lit'tle frag- 
 ments, eggs, and dead bodies, others hurrying back to the ant- 
 hill again, why they jostle each other, push each other, and 
 fight, so would it be hard to explain the causes that com- 
 pelled the Eussian people, after the departure of the French, 
 * Ydmshchik, smatrttyel.
 
 228 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 to throng back to that place which had formerly been called 
 Moscow. 
 
 But just as when one looks at the ants tearing in wild con^ 
 fusion around their despoiled abode, notwithstanding the com- 
 plete destruction of the ant-hill, one .can see by the activity and 
 energy, by the myriads of insects, that everything is utterly 
 destroyed, except the something indestructible, immaterial, 
 which constitutes the whole strength of the ant-hill, so, in 
 Moscow, in the month of October, though there was no one in 
 authority, no churches open, no priesthood, no riches, no 
 houses, still it was the same Moscow that it had been the 
 month of August. 
 
 Everything was destroyed except the something immaterial 
 but potent and indestructible. 
 
 The motives of the people who flocked from all sides into 
 Moscow after its evacuation by the enemy, were the most 
 various and personal, and, for the most part, savage, animal. 
 One motive, only, was common to all : that was the tendency 
 toward the place that had once been called Moscow, for the 
 employment there of their activity. 
 
 Within a week Moscow already had fifteen thousand 
 inhabitants ; in a fortnight twenty thousand, and so on. Con- 
 stantly rising and rising, the population, by the autumn of 
 1813, reached a figure which exceeded that which it had in 1812. 
 
 The first Russians to enter Moscow were the Cossacks of 
 Winzengerode's division, the muzhiks from the neighboring 
 villages, and the inhabitants of Moscow who had fled and con- 
 cealed themselves in the environs. 
 
 Eeturning to ruined Moscow, the Russians, finding it plun- 
 dered, began also to plunder. They continued the work begun 
 by the French. Muzhiks brought in carts, in order to carry 
 back to their villages whatever was to be found abandoned 
 in the houses or streets of ruined Moscow. 
 
 The Cossacks carried off what they could to their tents ; 
 proprietors of houses took possession of whatever they could 
 lay their hands on in other houses, and carried it home under 
 the pretext that it was their own property. 
 
 But the first comers were followed by other plunderers, and 
 they by still others ; and pillage each day, in proportion as the 
 numbers increased, became more and more difficult, and was 
 conducted under more definite forms. 
 
 The French found Moscow, though deserted, yet provided 
 with all the forms of a city the life of which flowed in accord- 
 ance with organic laws, with its various functions of trade,
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 229 
 
 handicraft, luxury, imperial administration, religion. These 
 forms were a dead letter, but they still existed. There were 
 markets, shops, magazines, grain stores, bazaars, most of 
 them provided with wares ; there were manufactories and 
 workshops ; there were palaces, noble mansions filled with 
 objects of luxury ; there were hospitals, prisons, court-rooms, 
 churches, cathedrals. 
 
 The longer the French staid, the less these forms of city 
 life were kept up, and toward the end everything was resolv- 
 ing itself into one common dead level of pillage. 
 
 The longer the pillage conducted by the French continued, 
 the more it diminished the wealth of Moscow and the strength 
 of the pillagers. 
 
 The pillage conducted by the Russians (and the occupation 
 of the capital by the Russians began with this) the longer 
 it lasted, and the more freely it was shared by the people, the 
 more rapidly it increased the wealth of Moscow and restored 
 the regular life of the city. 
 
 Besides the pillagers, the most varied sort of people, at- 
 tracted, some by curiosity, some by their duties in the service, 
 some by interest, householders, clergymen, high and low 
 chinovniks, tradesmen, artisans, muzhiks from various direc- 
 tions, flowed back into Moscow like blood to the heart. 
 
 At the end of a week, already, peasants who drove in with 
 empty carts in order to carry away things, were halted by the 
 authorities and compelled to carry away dead bodies from the 
 city. 
 
 Other muzhiks, hearing of the lack of commodities, came in 
 with wheat, oats, hay, by competition with each other redu- 
 cing prices even lower than they had been before. Master 
 carpenters, hoping for fat jobs, each day flocked to Moscow, 
 and in all directions new houses began to go up and the old 
 burned mansions to be restored. 
 
 Merchants displayed their wares in huts. Restaurants and 
 taverns were established in mansions that had been through 
 the flames. The clergy conducted divine service in many 
 churches that had escaped the conflagration. People con- 
 tributed ecclesiastical furniture that had been stolen. 
 
 Chinovniks spread their tables and set up their document- 
 cupboards in little rooms, High officials and the police made 
 arrangements for restoring property that had been abandoned 
 by the French. The owners of houses in which were found 
 many articles that had been brought from other houses, com- 
 plained of the injustice of the order to bring everything to
 
 230 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 the court of the exchequer. Others urged that, as the French 
 had brought things from different houses into one place, it was 
 therefore unfair to allow the owner of that house to keep 
 whatever was found in it. They abused the police ; they 
 tried to bribe them. Estimates were received, tenfold too 
 high, for building crown edifices that had been burned. Pecu- 
 niary assistance was asked for. Count Rostopchin began to 
 write his proclamations. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 TOWARD the beginning of February, Pierre came to Moscow 
 and established himself in the fliigel or wing that remained 
 intact. He paid visits to Count Rostopchin and various 
 acquaintances who had returned to Moscow, and he planned 
 to go a couple of days later to Petersburg. 
 
 All were enthusiastic over the victory. There was a fer- 
 ment of life in the ruined and revivified capital. All welcomed 
 Pierre warmly. All were anxious to meet him, and plied him 
 with questions in regard to all that he had seen. 
 
 Pierre felt drawn by special ties of sympathy and friend- 
 ship to all whom he met; but he now treated every one 
 guardedly, so as not to bind himself to any one. To all ques- 
 tions which he was asked whether important or the most 
 trivial where he was going to live ? was he going to re- 
 build ? when was he going to Petersburg, and should he try 
 to take his trunk with him ? he would answer " Yes," or 
 " Perhaps so," or " I think so," or the like. 
 
 He heard that the Rostofs were in Kostroma, and the 
 thought of Natasha rarely occurred to him. If it came to him, 
 it was only as a pleasant recollection of something long past. 
 He felt himself not only freed from the conditions of life, but 
 also from that sentiment which, as it seemed to him, he had 
 wittingly allowed himself to cherish. 
 
 On the third day after his arrival at Moscow, he learned 
 from the Drubetskois that the Princess Mariya was in Moscow. 
 Prince Andrei's death, sufferings, and last days had often 
 recurred to Pierre's mind, and now they came back to him 
 with fresh force. When, after dinner, he learned that the 
 Princess Mariya was in Moscow, and was residing in her 
 own house, which had escaped the conflagration, he went, that 
 same evening, to call upon her. 
 
 On the way to the mansion on the Vozdvizhenka, Pierre
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 231 
 
 constantly thought about Prince Andrei, about his friendship 
 for him, about his various meetings with him, and especially 
 their last meeting at Borodino. 
 
 " Can he have died in that same sardonic mood in which he 
 then was ? Can the explanation of life have been revealed to 
 him before his death ? " Pierre asked himself. He remem- 
 bered Karatayef and his death, and involuntarily he began 
 to compare these two men, so antipodal, and, at the same 
 time, so alike in the love which he had felt for them, and 
 then from the fact that both had lived and both were dead. 
 
 In the most serious frame of mind, Pierre reached the old 
 prince's mansion. This house remained intact. It still bore 
 traces of wear and tear, but the character of the house was 
 the same as before. 
 
 Pierre was met by an old ofitsidnt, or head lackey, with a 
 stern face, who, by his face, seemed to wish it to be under- 
 stood that the prince's absence did not affect the strictness 
 of the regime, and said that the princess had been pleased to 
 retire to her room, and received on Sundays. 
 
 " Carry her my name ; perhaps she will receive me," said 
 Pierre. 
 
 " Slushdyu-s I obey," replied the lackey. " Please come 
 to the portrait gallery." 
 
 In a few moments, the ofitsidnt returned to Pierre with 
 Dessalles. Dessalles, in the name of the princess, informed 
 Pierre that she would be very glad to see him, and begged 
 him, if he would excuse her for the lack of ceremony, to come 
 upstairs to her room. 
 
 In the low-studded room, lighted by a single candle, the 
 princess was sitting, and some one else in a black dress. 
 Pierre remembered that the princess had always with her 
 lady-companions,* but who and what these lady-companions 
 were, Pierre knew not and could not remember. 
 
 " That is one of her lady-companions," he said to himself, 
 glancing at the lady in the black dress. 
 
 The princess quickly arose, came forward to meet him, and 
 shook hands with him. 
 
 " Yes," said she as she looked into his altered face, after he 
 had kissed her hand. " So we meet again at last. He often 
 used to speak about you during the last days of his life," said 
 she, turning her eyes from Pierre to the "kompanyonka" with 
 an embarrassment that for an instant struck Pierre. " I was 
 
 * Kompanydnki.
 
 232 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 so glad to know of your rescue. That was truly the best piece 
 of news we had received for a long time." 
 
 Again the princess looked still more anxiously at the 
 " kompanyonka," and wanted to say something, but Pierre 
 did not give her an opportunity. 
 
 "You can imagine I knew nothing about it," said he. "I 
 thought he was killed. All that I knew, I knew from others, 
 and that at third hand. All I know is that he fell in with the 
 Rostofs. What a strange good fortune ! " 
 
 Pierre spoke rapidly, excitedly. He looked once into the 
 " kompanyonka's " face, saw an apparently flattering, inquisi- 
 tive glance fastened upon him, and, as often happens during 
 a conversation, he gathered a general idea that this "koni- 
 paiiyonka " in the black dress was a gentle, kindly, good crea- 
 ture, who would not interfere with the sincerity and cordiality 
 of his conversation with the Princess Mariya. 
 
 But when he said the last words about the Rostofs, the 
 embarrassment expressed on the princess's face was even 
 more noticeable than before. She again turned her eyes 
 from Pierre's face to the face of the lady in the black dress, 
 and said, 
 
 " But don't you recognize her ? " 
 
 Pierre once more looked into the " kompanyonka's " pale, 
 delicate face, with the dark eyes and strange mouth. Some- 
 thing near and dear, something long forgotten and more than 
 kind, was looking at him from those attentive eyes. 
 
 " But no, it cannot be," he said to himself. u That face so 
 stern, thin, and pale, and grown so old. That cannot be she ! 
 It is only something that reminds me of her ! " But while he 
 was thus reasoning with himself, the Princess Mariya said : 
 " Natasha ! " 
 
 And the face with the attentive eyes, with difficulty, with 
 an effort, just as a rusty door opens, smiled, and from the 
 opened door suddenly breathed forth and surrounded Pierre 
 the perfume of that long-forgotten happiness, of which he had 
 rarely thought, especially of late. Forth breathed the per- 
 fume, seized his senses and swallowed him up entirely. When 
 she smiled, all doubt ceased; it was Natasha, and he loved 
 her! 
 
 At the first minute, Pierre involuntarily told both her and 
 the Princess Mariya, and chief of all his own heart, the secret 
 that he long had not confessed. He reddened with delight 
 and passionate pain. He tried to hide his agitation. But the 
 more he tried to hide it, the more distinctly more distinctly 

 
 WAR IND PEACE. 233 
 
 than in the most definite words he told himself and her and 
 the Princess Mariya that he loved her ! 
 
 " No, of course it is only from the surprise," said Pierre to 
 himself ; but in spite of all his efforts to prolong the conversa- 
 tion that he had started with the Princess Mariya, he could 
 not help looking again at Natasha, and a still deeper flush 
 suffused his face, and a still deeper agitation of joy and pain 
 clutched his heart. He hesitated in his speech, and stopped 
 short in the midst of what he was saying. 
 
 Pierre had not remarked Natasha for the reason that he had 
 never expected to see her there, but the reason that he did not 
 recognize her was because of the immense change that had 
 taken place in her since he had seen her last. 
 
 She had grown thin and pale. But it was not that that had 
 changed her identity ; it was impossible that he should have 
 recognized her 011 the first moment of his entrance, because 
 that face from whose eyes hitherto had always gleamed forth 
 the secret joy of living, now when he came in and for the first 
 time glanced at her, now had not even the shadow of a smile ; 
 they were merely attentive, kindly, and pathetically question- 
 ing eyes. 
 
 Pierre's confusion did not waken any answering confusion 
 in Natasha, but only a contentment that lighted up her face 
 with an almost imperceptible gleam. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 " SHE came to make me a visit," said the Princess Mariya. 
 "The count and countess will be here in a few days. The 
 countess is in a terrible state. But Natasha herself had need 
 of consulting the doctor. They sent her with me by main 
 force." 
 
 " Yes, is there a fa"mily without its own special sorrow ? " 
 said Pierre, addressing Natasha. "You know that it hap- 
 pened on the very day that we were set free. I saw him. 
 What a charming boy he was ! " 
 
 Natasha looked at him, but in answer to his words her eyes 
 dilated and a shade crept over them. 
 
 " What consolation can be given in either thought or word ? " 
 exclaimed Pierre. " None at all ! Why should such a glori- 
 ous young fellow, so full of life, be 'called upon to die ?" 
 
 " Yes, indeed, in our time it would be hard to live,, if one 
 had not faith," said the Princess Mariya.
 
 234 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 " Yes, yes ! That is the real truth/ 7 interrupted Pierre 
 hastily. 
 
 "Why?" asked Natasha, gazing attentively into Pierre's 
 eyes. 
 
 "How can you say why?" asked the Princess Mariya. 
 " The mere thought of what awaits us there " 
 
 Natasha, without hearing the Princess Mariya to the end, 
 again looked with questioning eyes to Pierre. 
 
 "Why, because," continued Pierre, "only that man who 
 believes that there is a God who directs our ways can endure 
 such a loss as hers and yours," added Pierre. 
 
 Natasha had her lips parted to say something, but suddenly 
 stopped. Pierre quickly turned from her, and again addressed 
 the princess with a question concerning his friend's last days. 
 
 Pierre's embarrassment had now almost disappeared, but at 
 the same time he felt that all his former freedom had also 
 disappeared. He felt that his every word and act had now a 
 critic, a judge that was dearer to him than .the opinion of all 
 the people in the world. 
 
 When he spoke now, he measured at every word the impres- 
 sion which his words produced upon Natasha. He purposely 
 refrained from saying what would have pleased her ; but what- 
 ever he said he judged from her standpoint. 
 
 The Princess Mariya, reluctantly at first, as is always the 
 case, began to tell him about the state in which she had found 
 her brother. But Pierre's questions, his evidently troubled 
 eyes, his face trembling with emotion, gradually induced her 
 to enter into particulars which she would have been afraid to 
 call back to her recollection for her own sake. 
 
 "Yes, yes, indeed it is so," said Pierre, leaning forward 
 with his whole body toward the Princess Mariya, and eagerly 
 listening to her story, " Yes, yes, and so he grew calmer ? 
 more softened ? He so earnestly sought with all the powers 
 of his soul for the one thing : to be perfectly good. He could 
 not have feared death. The faults that he had if he had 
 any came from other sources than himself. And so he grew 
 softened?" exclaimed Pierre. "What good fortune that he 
 me.t you again," he added, turning to Natasha and looking at 
 her, his eyes brimming with tears. 
 
 Natasha's face twitched. She frowned, and for an instant 
 dropped her eyes. For a minute she hesitated ; should she 
 speak, or not speak. 
 
 " Yes, it was good fortune," said she in a low chest voice. 
 "For me indeed it was a happiness." She became silent.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 235 
 
 "And lie he he said that it was the very thing that 
 he was longing for when I went to him " 
 
 Natasha's voice broke. She clasped her hands together on 
 her knees, and suddenly, evidently making an effort to con- 
 tain herself, raised her head and began rapidly to speak : 
 
 " We knew nothing about it when we left Moscow. I 
 had not dared to ask about him. And suddenly Sonya told 
 me that he was with us. I had no idea, I could not ima- 
 gine in what a state he was. I only wanted one thing 
 to see him, to be with him," said she, trembling and chok- 
 ing. And without letting herself be interrupted, she related 
 what she had never before told a living soul ; all that she 
 had suffered in those three wee'ks of their journey and their 
 sojourn at Yaroslavl. 
 
 Pierre listened to her with open mouth and without tak- 
 ing from her his eyes full of tears. In listening to her he 
 thought not of Prince Andrei or of death, or even of what ' 
 she was telling him. He heard her and only pitied her for 
 the suffering which she underwent now in telling the tale. 
 
 The princess, frowning with her endeavor to keep back her 
 tears, sat next Natasha, and listened for the first time to 
 the story of these last days that her brother had spent 
 with Natasha. 
 
 This tale, so fraught with pain and joy, it was evidently 
 necessary for Natasha to relate. 
 
 She spoke commingling the most insignificant details with 
 the intimate secrets of the heart, and it seemed as if she 
 vould never reach an end. Several times she repeated the 
 same things. 
 
 Dessalles's voice was heard outside the door, asking if Niko- 
 lushka might come and bid them good-night. 
 
 "And so -tfiat is all, all" said Natasha. When Niko- 
 lushka came in she quickly sprang up and almost ran to the 
 door, and, hitting \er head against the door, which was hidden 
 by a porti&re, flew Jrorn the room with a groan which was 
 caused neither by pain ^or grief. 
 
 Pierre gazed at the door tnrough which she had disappeared, 
 and could not understand why he seemed suddenly left alone 
 and deserted in the world. 
 
 The Princess Mariya aroused him from his fit of abstraction 
 by calling his attention to her nephew, who had come into the 
 room. 
 
 Nikolushka's face, which resembled his father's, had such 
 an effect upon Pierre, in this moment of soul-felt emotion into
 
 236 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 which he had come, that after he had kissed the lad he quickly 
 arose, and, getting out his handkerchief, went to the window. 
 
 He wanted to bid the Princess Mariya good-night and go, 
 but she detained him. 
 
 " No, Natasha and I often sit up till three o'clock ; please 
 stay a little longer. I will order supper served. Go down- 
 stairs, we will follow immediately." 
 
 But before Pierre left the room the princess said to him, 
 
 " This is the first time that she has spoken of him." 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 PIERRE was conducted into the large, brightly lighted dining- 
 room. In a few minutes steps were heard, and the princess 
 and Natasha came into the room. Natasha was now calm, 
 although a grave expression, untouched with a smile, still re- 
 mained on her face. 
 
 The Princess Mariya, Natasha, and Pierre alike experienced 
 that sense of awkwardness which is sure to follow after 
 a serious and intimate conversation. To pursue the former 
 subject is no longer possible ; to talk about trifles does not 
 seem right ; and silence is disagreeable because such silence 
 seems hypocritical, especially if one wishes to talk. 
 
 They silently came to the table. The servants drew the 
 chairs back and pushed them forward. Pierre unfolded his 
 cold napkin, and, making up his mind to break the silence, 
 looked at Natasha and the Princess Mariya. 
 
 Each of them had evidently at the same time made the 
 same resolve ; the eyes of both shone with the satisfaction of 
 life, and the avowal that if sorrow exists, so also joy may 
 abound. 
 
 " Will you have vodka, count ? " asked the Princess Mariya, 
 and these words suddenly drove away the shadows of the 
 past. 
 
 " Tell us about yourself," said the Princess Mariya. " We 
 have heard such incredible stories about you." 
 
 " Yes ? " replied Pierre with that smile of good-humored 
 irony which was now habitual with him. " I too have heard most 
 marvellous things about myself things that I have never 
 even dreamed of seeing. Marya Avrarnovna invited me to 
 her house, and told me all that ever happened to me or was 
 supposed to have happened. Stepan Stepanuitch also gave 
 me a lesson in the way that I should tell my story. As a
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 237 
 
 general thing. I have observed that it is a very comfortable 
 thing to be an < interesting person' (I am now an interesting 
 person ) ! I am invited out and made the subject of all sorts 
 of stories." 
 
 Natasha smiled, and started to say something. 
 
 " We were told," said the Princess Mariya, forestalling her, 
 "that you lost two millions here in Moscow. Is that true ? 
 
 " But still it made me three times as rich as before,' replied 
 
 Pierre 
 
 Pierre, in spite of his wife's debts and the necessity upon 
 him of rebuilding his houses, which would alter his circum- 
 stances, continued to tell people that he had grown three 
 times as rich as before. . 
 
 What I have undoubtedly gained," said he, is this tree- 
 dom which I enjoy" he had begun seriously, but he hesi- 
 tated about continuing, observing that the topic of the con- 
 versation was too egotistical. 
 
 " And are you going to rebuild ? " 
 
 " Yes : Savelyitch advises it." 
 
 Tell me, you did not know at all about the countess s 
 death when you were in Moscow ? " asked the Princess 
 Mariya, and instantly reddened, noticing that in having put 
 this question immediately after what he had said about his 
 freedom, she might have given a sense to his words which 
 perhaps they had not. . 
 
 "No," replied Pierre, evidently not discovering anything 
 awkward in the interpretation which the Princess Mariya had 
 given to his remark about his freedom. " I first heard about 
 it in Orel, and you cannot imagine how it surprised me. We 
 were not a model husband and wife," he quickly added, with 
 a glance at Natasha, and observing in her face a gleam ot 
 curiosity as to what he would have to say about his wile. 
 "But her death gave me a terrible shock. When two people 
 quarrel, always both are at fault. And a person's fault sud- 
 denly becomes awfully serious when the other party comes to 
 die And then such a death ! without friends, without con- 
 solation ! I felt very, very sorry for her," said he, in conclu- 
 sion, and noticing with a sense of satisfaction a look ot glad 
 approval in Natasha's face. 
 
 "Well, and so you are a single man and marriageabl. 
 again," said the Princess Mariya. . 
 
 Pierre's face suddenly grew livid, and for long he tried not 
 to look at .Natasha. When at length he had the courage to 
 look at her, her face was cold., stern, and even scorntul as it 
 seemed to him.
 
 238 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 11 And did you really see Napoleon and talk with him ? 
 That's the story they tell us," said the Princess Mariya. 
 
 Pierre laughed. 
 
 " Not once, never ! It always seems to every one that to 
 have been a prisoner was to have been Napoleon's guest. I 
 not only never saw him, but did not hear him talked about. I 
 was in far too humble company." 
 
 Supper was over, and Pierre, who at first refused to tell 
 about his captivity, was little by little drawn into stories 
 about it. 
 
 " But it is true, isn't it, that you remained behind for the 
 purpose of killing Napoleon ? " asked Natasha, with a slight 
 smile. "I imagined as much when we met you at the Su- 
 kharef Tower, do you remember ? " 
 
 Pierre acknowledged that this was true ; and with this ques- 
 tion as a starting-point, and gradually led on by the Princess 
 Mariya's questions, and especially by Natasha's, Pierre was 
 brought' to give them a detailed account of his adventures. 
 
 At first he told his story with that gentle, ironical expres- 
 sion which he now used toward other people and especially 
 himself ; but afterwards, when he came to tell about the hor- 
 rors and sufferings which he had beheld, he, without being 
 himself aware of it, was carried away, and began to talk with 
 the restrained excitement of a man who was reliving, in his 
 recollections, the most vivid impressions. 
 
 The Princess Mariya, with a gentle smile, looked now at 
 Pierre, now at Natasha. Throughout all this narration, she 
 saw only Pierre and his goodness. 
 
 Natasha, leaning her head on her hand, with her face re- 
 flecting in its expression all the varying details of the story, 
 gazed steadily at Pierre without once taking her eyes from 
 him, evidently living with him through all the dreadful scenes 
 of Avhich he told. 
 
 Not only her looks, but her exclamations and the brief ques- 
 tions which she asked, showed Pierre that, from his story, she 
 took to heart exactly what he wanted to convey. It was evi- 
 dent that she understood not merely what he told her, but 
 also that which he would have wished but was unable to ex- 
 press in words. 
 
 Concerning his adventure with the child and the woman 
 the protection of whom had led to his arrest, Pierre told in 
 the following manner : . 
 
 "This was a horrible sight : children deserted, some in the 
 flames one child was dragged out before my very eyes
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 239 
 
 women who were robbed of their possessions, their ear-rings 
 snatched away " 
 
 Pierre reddened and stammered. 
 
 " Then came the patrol and arrested all those who were not 
 engaged in pillage all the men. And myself ! " 
 
 " You certainly are not telling the whole story ; you cer- 
 tainly did something," said Natasha, and paused a moment, 
 " something good ! " 
 
 Pierre went on with his narration. When he came to tell 
 about the execution, he wished to avoid the horrible details, 
 but Natasha insisted that he should not omit anything. 
 
 Pierre began to tell about Karatayef. By this time he had 
 risen from the table, and was walking back and forth, Na- 
 tasha's eyes following him all the time. But he paused, 
 
 " No, you cannot understand how I learned from that illit- 
 erate man half an idiot ! " 
 
 " Yes, yes, go on," cried Natasha. " What became of 
 him ? " 
 
 " He was shot almost in my very presence." 
 
 And Pierre began to tell about the last period of the re- 
 treat of the French, Karatayef's illness (his voice constantly 
 trembled) and his death. Pierre, in relating his adventures, 
 found that they came back to him in an entirely new light. 
 
 He now found what seemed to be a new significance in all 
 that he had experienced. Now, while he was telling all this 
 to Natasha, he experienced that rare delight afforded by 
 women not intellectual women, who, in listening, try either 
 to remember what is said for the sake of enriching their 
 minds, and, on occasion, of giving it out themselves, or to apply 
 what is said to their own cases, and to communicate with all 
 diligence their intellectual remarks elaborated in the work- 
 shops of their petty brains but the delight afforded by 
 genuine women gifted with the capacity to bring out and 
 assimilate all that is best in a man's impulses. 
 
 Natasha, without knowing it, was all attention : she did 
 not lose a word, of an inflection of his voice, or a glance, 
 or the quivering of a muscle in his face, or a single gesture 
 that he made. 
 
 She caught on the wing the word as yet unspoken, and took 
 it straight to her generous heart, divining the mysterious 
 meaning of all the spiritual travail through which Pierre had 
 passed. 
 
 The Princess Mariya comprehended his story, sympathized 
 with him, but now she saw something else which absorbed all
 
 240 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 her attention : she saw the possibility of love and happiness 
 for Pierre and Natasha. And this thought, occurring to her 
 for the first time, filled her heart with joy. 
 
 It was three o'clock in the morning. The servants, with 
 gloomy, stern faces, came to bring fresh candles, but no one 
 heeded them. 
 
 Pierre finished his. story. Natasha, her eyes gleaming with 
 excitement, continued to look steadily and earnestly at Pierre, 
 as though wishing to read the portions of his story that he 
 had perhaps not told. 
 
 Pierre, with a shamefaced but joyous sense of embarrass- 
 ment, occasionally looked at her, and wondered what to say 
 next in order to change the conversation to some other topic. 
 
 The Princess Mariya was silent. It occurred to none of 
 them that it was three o'clock in the morning, and time to go 
 to bed. 
 
 "We talk about unhappiness, sufferings," said Pierre. 
 "Yet if now, this minute, I were asked, 'Would you remain 
 what you were before your imprisonment, or go through it all 
 again ? ' I should say, ' For God's sake, the imprisonment once 
 more and the horse-flesh.' We think that when we are 
 driven out of the usual path, everything is all over for us ; 
 but it is just here that the new and the good begins. As 
 long as there is life, there is happiness. There is much, much 
 before us ! I tell you so," said he, addressing Natasha. 
 
 " Yes, yes," said she, answering something entirely differ- 
 ent. " And I should wish nothing better than to live my life 
 all over again." 
 
 Pierre looked at her keenly. 
 
 " No, I could ask for nothing more." 
 
 " You are wrong, you are wrong," cried Pierre. " I am not 
 to blame because I am alive and want to live ; and you also." 
 
 Suddenly Natasha hid her face in her hands, and burst into 
 tears. 
 
 " What is it, Natasha ? " asked the Princess Mariya. 
 
 "Nothing, nothing." She smiled at Pierre through her 
 tears. 
 
 " G-ood-by, it is bed-time." 
 
 Pierre got up and took his departure. 
 
 The Princess Mariya and Natasha, as usual, met in their 
 sleeping-room. They talked over what Pierre had told them. 
 The princess did not express her opinion of Pierre. Neither 
 did Natasha speak of him.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 241 
 
 "Well, good-night, Marie," said Natasha. "Do you know 
 I am often afraid that in not speaking of him (Prince Andrei) 
 for fear of doing wrong to our feelings, we may forget him ? " 
 
 The Princess Mariya drew a deep sigh, and by this sigh 
 confessed to the justice of Natasha's words ; but when she 
 spoke, her words expressed a different thought : " How 
 could one forget him ? " she asked. 
 
 " It was so good for me to-day to talk it all over ; and hard 
 too, and painful and good very good," said Natasha. " I was 
 certain that he loved him so. That was why I told him. 
 There was no harm in my telling him, was there ? " she asked, 
 suddenly reddening. 
 
 " To Pierre ? Oh, no ! What a fine man he is ! " exclaimed 
 the Princess Mariya. 
 
 "Do you know, Marie," suddenly broke out Natasha, with 
 a roguish smile, which the Princess Mariya had not seen for 
 a long time on her face, " he has grown so clean, neat, fresh, 
 just as though he were out of a bath. Do you know what I 
 mean morally out of a bath ! Isn't that so ? " 
 
 "Yes," said the Princess Mariya. "He has gained very 
 much." 
 
 " And his jaunty little coat,* and his neatly cropped hair ; 
 just exactly yes, just exactly as papa used to look when he 
 was fresh from his bath ! " 
 
 " I remember that he (Prince Andrei) liked no one so well 
 as Pierre," said the Princess Mariya. 
 
 " Yes ; and yet both of them were peculiar in their own 
 way. They say that men are better friends when they are 
 not alike. It must be so. Don't you think that they were 
 very different ? " 
 
 " Yes, and he's splendid." 
 
 " Well, good-night," replied Natasha ; and the same mis- 
 chievous smile long remained in her face, as though she had 
 forgotten to drive it away. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 IT was long before Pierre went to sleep that night. He 
 strode back and forth through his chamber, now scowling, now 
 burdening himself with heavy thoughts, then suddenly shrug- 
 ging his shoulders and starting, and then again smiling. 
 
 He was thinking about Prince Andrei, about Natasha, and 
 
 * Surtoutchek kortitenkii. 
 VOL. 4. 16.
 
 242 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 the love which they bore each other ; and sometimes he felt 
 jealous of her for what was past, sometimes he reproached 
 himself for it, sometimes he justified it. 
 
 It was already six o'clock in the morning, and still he kept 
 pacing through his room. 
 
 " Well, what's to be done ? Is it still impossible ? What 
 is to be done ? Of course it must be so," said he to himself, 
 and, hastily undressing, he got into bed, happy and excited, 
 but free from doubt and irresolution. " Yes, strange and 
 impossible as this happiness seems, I must do everything, 
 everything, to make her my wife," he said to himself. 
 
 Several days previously, Pierre had fixed upon Friday for 
 the day of his departure for Petersburg. When he woke up 
 it was Thursday, and Savelyitch came to him for orders in 
 regard to the packing of his things for the journey. 
 
 " Petersburg ? What about Petersburg ? Who is going to 
 Petersburg ? " he could not help asking of himself ! " Oh, 
 yes, some time ago, before ever this happened, I had some 
 such thought I was going to Petersburg for some reason or 
 other," he remembered. " Why was it ? Yes, perhaps I shall 
 go as it is. How good and attentive he is ! How he remem- 
 bers everything," he said to himself, as he looked into Savel- 
 yitch's old face. u And what a pleasant smile," he thought. 
 
 "Aren't you always longing to have your freedom, Savel- 
 yitch ? " demanded Pierre. 
 
 " Why should I wish my freedom, your illustriousness ? 
 While the late count was alive the Kingdom of Heaven be 
 his we lived with him, and now we have nothing to com- 
 plain of from you." 
 
 " Well, but your children ? " 
 
 " The children will live also, your illustriousness : one can 
 put up with such masters." 
 
 " Yes, but my heirs," suggested Pierre. " I may suddenly 
 marry. You see, that might happen," he added, with an 
 involuntary smile. 
 
 " And may I be bold enough to say, a very good thing, too, 
 your illustriousness ! " 
 
 " How easy it seems to him," thought Pierre. " He cannot 
 know how terrible, how perilous a thing it is. Too soon or 
 too late terrible!" 
 
 " What orders do you please to give ? Do you wish to 
 start to-morrow ? " asked Savelyitch. 
 
 " No, I am going to postpone it for a few days. I will tell 
 you when the time comes. Forgive me for putting you to so
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 243 
 
 much trouble," said Pierre, and, as he saw Savelyitch's smile, 
 he said to himself, " How strange it is that he doesn't know 
 that Petersburg is now nothing to me, and that this matter 
 must be decided before anything is. Of course he must know 
 he's only pretending ! Shall I talk with him about it ? 
 How will he like it ? " wondered Pierre. " No, I will wait a 
 little." 
 
 At breakfast, Pierre informed his cou'sin, the princess, that 
 he had been the evening before to call upon the Princess 
 Mariya, aftd whom did she suppose he found there ? Natasha 
 liostova ! 
 
 The princess pretended that she saw nothing more extraor- 
 dinary in this than if he had seen Anna Semyonovna. 
 
 " Do you know her ? " asked Pierre. 
 
 "I have met the princess," she replied. "I have heard 
 that she has become engaged to young Kostof. That would 
 be a very good thing for the Rostofs ; they say their affairs 
 are all in confusion." 
 
 " No, but do you know the Countess Natasha ? " 
 
 " I have heard something about her story. It's very sad." 
 
 " Either she does not understand, or she is pretending not 
 to understand," said Pierre to himself j " I'd better not tell 
 her, either." 
 
 The princess, also, had been making some preparations for 
 Pierre's journey. 
 
 " How kind they all are," thought Pierre, " when now there 
 can be nothing at all interesting to them in all this, to take 
 so much trouble with my affairs. And all for me ! truly it's 
 wonderful ! " 
 
 On that same day Pierre went to the chief of police to tell 
 him that he would send a trusty servant to receive the prop- 
 erty that was to be restored to the citizens that day at the 
 yranavitaya palatd, or. court of the exchequer. 
 
 "And now this inan, also," thought Pierre, as he looked into 
 the politsimeister* s face. " What a splendid, fine-looking 
 officer, and how kind he is ! Now he is occupied with such 
 trifles ! And yet they say that he is not honest, and is mak- 
 ing use of his opportunities ! What nonsense ! Besides, why 
 should he not take advantage ? He was educated to do so. 
 And that's the way they all do. But he had such a pleasant, 
 good face ! and smiled so agreeably when he looked at me." 
 
 Pierre went that evening to dine at the Princess Mariya's. 
 
 As he went along the streets, lined with the blackened ruins 
 of houses, he was amazed at the beauty that he discovered in
 
 244 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 these ruins. The chimney-stacks, the fallen walls, vividly re- 
 minding Pierre of the Rhine and the Colosseum, stretched 
 along one behind the others, all through the burnt districts. 
 The hack-drivers and passers-by, the carpenters hewing tim- 
 bers, merchants and shop-keepers, all with jovial, shining faces, 
 gazed at Pierre, and seemed to say, " Ah, there he goes. 
 Let us see what will come of it." 
 
 Before he reached the Princess Mariya's, the doubt occurred 
 to Pierre's mind whether it were true that he had been there 
 the evening before, and seen Natasha and talked with her. 
 
 " Perhaps I was dreaming ? Perhaps I shall go in and find 
 no one." 
 
 But he had no sooner entered the room, than, in his whole 
 being, by the instantaneous loss of his freedom, he realized 
 her presence. She wore the same black dress with soft folds, 
 and her hair was done up in the same way as the evening be- 
 fore, but she herself was entirely different. If she had been 
 like that the evening before, when he went into the room, he 
 could not have failed, for a single instant, to recognize her. 
 
 She was just the same as she had been when almost a child, 
 and afterwards, when she was Prince Andrei's affianced bride. 
 A merry, questioning gleam flashed in her eyes ; her face had 
 a genial and strangely roguish expression. 
 
 Pierre dined with them, and would have spent the whole 
 evening, but the Princess Mariya was going to vespers, and 
 Pierre accompanied them. 
 
 The following day, Pierre went early, dined with them, and 
 spent the whole evening. 
 
 Although the Princess Mariya and Natasha were evidently 
 glad of his company, although all the interest of Pierre's life 
 was now concentrated in this house, still, as the evening wore 
 away, they had talked everything out, and the conversation 
 constantly lagged from one trivial subject to another, and 
 often flagged altogether. 
 
 Pierre staid that evening so late that the Princess Mariya 
 and Natasha exchanged glances, evidently feeling anxious for 
 him to go. Pierre saw it, and yet could not tear himself 
 away. He felt embarrassed and awkward, but still he 'staid 
 because he could not get up to go. 
 
 The Princess Mariya, not seeing any end to it, was the first 
 to get up, and, pleading migraine as an excuse, started to bid 
 him good-night. 
 
 " And so you are going to Petersburg to-morrow ? " she 
 asked.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 245 
 
 "No, I don't expect to go," hastily replied Pierre, with sur- 
 prise and apparent annoyance. " Yes, no oh, to Peters- 
 burg ? Day after to-morrow, perhaps. Only I won't say 
 good-by now. I will call to see if you have any commis- 
 sions," said he, standing in front of the Princess Mariya, with 
 flushed face and embarrassed manner. 
 
 Natasha gave him her hand, and left the room. The Prin- 
 cess Mariya, on the contrary, instead of going, resumed her 
 chair, and, with her luminous, deep eyes, gazed gravely and 
 earnestly at Pierre. The weariness which she had really felt 
 just before had now entirely passed away. She drew a long 
 and deep sigh, as though nerving herself for a serious conver- 
 sation. 
 
 All Pierre's confusion and awkwardness instantly disap- 
 peared the moment that Natasha left the room, and gave place 
 to an agitated excitement. 
 
 He swiftly drew his chair close to the Princess Mariya. 
 
 " Yes, I wanted to have a talk with you," said he, respond- 
 ing to her look, as though it were spoken words. 
 
 " Princess ! help me ! What am I to do ? Have I reason 
 to hope ? Princess, my friend, listen to me. I know all 
 about it. I know that I am not worthy of her. I know that 
 it is wholly impossible, at the present time, to speak about it. 
 But I wish to be like a brother to her. No, I do not, I can- 
 not wish that. I cannot " 
 
 He paused, and rubbed his face and his eyes with his 
 hand. 
 
 " Now, here ! " he pursued, evidently making an effort to 
 command himself to speak coherently. " I don't know when 
 I first began to love her. But all my life long I have loved 
 her, and her alone, and I love her so that I cannot imagine 
 life without her. I cannot make up my mind to sue for her 
 hand now ; but the thought that perhaps she might be mine, 
 and that I had lost this opportunity opportunity is hor- 
 rible to me. Tell me, have I reason to hope ? Tell me what I 
 must do. Dear princess," said he, after a little silence, and 
 he touched her hand when she did not reply. 
 
 l( I was thinking of what you have told me," returned the 
 Princess Mariya. " This hear what I have to say. You 
 are right that to speak to her now of love " 
 
 The princess paused. She meant to say, to speak to her of 
 love was impossible now ; but she paused because for two days 
 past she had observed, from the change that had taken place 
 in Natasha, that Natasha would not only not be offended if
 
 246 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 Pierre should confess his love for her, but that this was the 
 very thing that she was longing for him to do. 
 
 " To tell her now is impossible," said the Princess Mariya, 
 nevertheless. 
 
 " But what am I to do ? " 
 
 "Leave it all to me," said the Princess Mariya. "I 
 know " 
 
 Pierre looked into the Princess Mariya's eyes. u Well 
 well " said he. 
 
 " I know that she loves you will love you," said the Prin- 
 cess Mariya, correcting herself. - 
 
 She had scarcely said these words before Pierre sprang up, 
 and, with a frightened face, seized the Princess Mariya's 
 hand. 
 
 " What makes you think so ? Do you really think that I 
 may hope ? Do you think so ? " 
 
 " Yes, I think so," said the Princess Mariya, with a smile. 
 " Write to her parents. And trust it all to me. I will tell 
 her when the suitable time comes. I am. anxious for it. And 
 my heart tells me that it will be." 
 
 " No, it cannot be ! How happy I am ! But it cannot 
 be ! " repeated Pierre, kissing the princess's hand. 
 
 " You go to Petersburg ; that is best. And I will write to 
 you," said she. 
 
 " To Petersburg ? Go away ? Yes, very good, I will go. 
 But may I come to call to-morrow ? " 
 
 On the following day, Pierre went to say good-by. Natasha 
 was less animated than on the preceding days ; but to-day 
 when Pierre occasionally looked into her eyes he felt that his 
 existence was nothing, that he was not, and that she was not, 
 but that one feeling of bliss filled the world. 
 
 " Can it be ? No ! impossible ! " he said to himself at each 
 glance, word, motion of hers, so filling his heart with joy. 
 
 AVhen, on saying " good-by," he took her delicate, slender 
 hand, he involuntarily held it rather long in his. 
 
 " Can it be that this hand, this face, these eyes, all this 
 marvellous treasure of womanly beauty, can it be that it 
 will be mine forever, as familiar to me as I am to myself ? 
 No, it is impossible ! " 
 
 " Good-by, count prashehaite, graff" said she to him 
 aloud. "I shall await your return with impatience," she 
 added in a whisper. 
 
 And these simple words, the look and the expression of her 
 face that accompanied them, constituted the basis of inexhaust*
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 247 
 
 ible recollections, memories, and happy dreams during Pierre's 
 two months' absence. 
 
 " ' I shall await your return with impatience.' Yes, yes, 
 how did she say ? Yes, < I shall await your return with im- 
 patience.' Akh ! how happy I am ! What does it mean that 
 I am so happy ? " 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 IN Pierre's soul nothing took place like what had taken 
 place under precisely similar circumstances at the time of his 
 engagement with Ellen. 
 
 He did not repeat as before, with a sickening sense of shame, 
 the words that he said ; he did not ask himself : " Akh ! why 
 did I not say that, and why, why did I say, Je vous aime " ? 
 
 Now, on the contrary, every word that she said, every one 
 of his own words, he repeated in his imagination with all the 
 various details of her face and her smile, and he had no wish 
 to take away or add a single one. His sole desire was to 
 repeat them. 
 
 There was now not the slightest shadow of doubt as to 
 whether what he was going to do was right or wrong. Only 
 one terrible doubt ever occurred to his mind : Was it not all a 
 dream ? Was not the Princess Mariya mistaken ? " Am I not 
 too proud and self-conceited ? I believe I am ; but tliis surely 
 might happen the Princess Mariya might tell her, but she 
 would smile and reply, ' How strange ! He is surely mistaken ! 
 Does he not know that he is a man, a simple man ? while I 
 I am entirely different, vastly superior.' " 
 
 This was Pierre's only doubt, and it frequently recurred to 
 him. He now even ceased to make plans. His actual happi- 
 ness seemed to him so incredible that the accomplishment of 
 this seemed enough of itself, and anything more was a work 
 of supererogation. All was over. 
 
 A joyous, unexpected insanity, of which Pierre believed 
 himself incapable, possessed him. All the meaning of life, 
 not for himself alone, but for the whole world, seemed to him 
 to be included only in his love for her and the possibility of 
 her love for him. 
 
 It sometimes seemed to him that all men were occupied 
 with only one thing his future happiness. It sometimes 
 seemed to him that they were all rejoicing, just as he was, and 
 were only trying to hid this happiness, while pretending to
 
 248 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 be absorbed in other interests. In every word and action he 
 discovered hints pointing toward his happiness. He often 
 surprised the people who met him, by his blissful looks and 
 smiles, which expressed some secret, inward harmony. 
 
 But when he realized that these people could not know about 
 his happiness, he pitied them with all his heart, and experi- 
 enced a keen desire somehow to explain to them that all that 
 occupied their time was perfect rubbish and trifles not worthy 
 of their attention. 
 
 When it was proposed to him to take some office, or when 
 criticisms were made on the general course of political events 
 or the war, and suppositions were advanced that such and 
 such a method of procedure would bring happiness to all men, 
 he listened with his gentle, compassionate smile, and amazed 
 those who were talking with him by his odd observations. 
 
 But those men who seemed to Pierre to comprehend the real 
 meaning of life, that is, his own views of it as well as those 
 who were unfortunate enough apparently not to comprehend 
 it in fact, all men at this particular time were brought into 
 such a brightly concentrated light, radiating from his own 
 heart, that without the slightest difficulty he at once on meet- 
 ing with any one saw in him whatever was good and worthy 
 of love. 
 
 On examining his late wife's affairs and papers, he, in his 
 memory of her, -experienced nothing, no other feeling than 
 one of pity, that she knew not the happiness which he now 
 knew. Prince Vasili, who was now especially proud of a new 
 place and decorations, seemed to him a touchingly good and 
 miserable old man. 
 
 Pierre often in after-days remembered this time of happy 
 folly. All the judgments which he formed for himself of 
 men 'and events at this time remained forever established in 
 his mind. He not only did not afterwards renounce these 
 views of men and things, but, on the contrary, in all his 
 inward doubts and contradictions, he came back to that view 
 which he had during this time of folly, and this view always 
 seemed correct. 
 
 " Perhaps," he would say to himself, " I seemed strange 
 and absurd at that time. But I was not so foolish as it might 
 appear. On the contrary, I was wiser and more sagacious 
 than ever before, and I understood all that is worth under- 
 standing in life, because I was happy." 
 
 Pierre's folly or unreason consisted in this, that he did not 
 as before wait for the personal reasons the merits of people,
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 249 
 
 as he called them to be displayed before he loved them, 
 but love filled his heart, and he, by constantly loving his 
 fellow-men, found undoubted reason for making it worth his 
 while to love them. 
 
 t CHAPTER XX. 
 
 FROM that first evening when Natasha, after Pierre had left 
 them, had told the Princess Mariya with a joyously mis- 
 chievous smile that he was just as though he had come out of 
 his bath, and called attention to his jaunty coat and his closely 
 cropped hair, from that moment something awoke in her 
 heart that had lain dormant, and was unknown even to her, 
 but irresistible. 
 
 Everything about her suddenly underwent a change her 
 face, her gait, her look, her voice. Unexpectedly to herself 
 the power of life and hope of happiness flashed forth outwardly 
 and demanded satisfaction. From that first evening Natasha 
 seemed to have forgotten all that had happened to her. 
 Henceforth she never once complained of her situation or 
 said one single word about the past, and she had no hesitation 
 even in forming happy plans for the future. 
 
 She had little to say about Pierre ; but when the Princess 
 Mariya mentioned him, the long extinguished gleam was 
 kindled in her eyes, and her lips were curved with a strange 
 smile. The change that took place in Natasha at first amazed 
 the Princess Mariya; but when she understood the signifi- 
 cance of it she was grieved. 
 
 "Could it be that she had loved my brother so little that 
 she is so ready to forget him ? " mused the Princess Mariya 
 when by herself she pondered over this change that had come 
 over Natasha. 
 
 But when she was with Natasha she neither felt angry 
 with her nor reproached her. The awakening powers of life, 
 which had taken such hold of Natasha, were evidently so un- 
 controllable, so unexpected to herself, that the Princess 
 Mariya while in her presence felt that she had no right to 
 reproach her even in her heart. 
 
 Natasha gave herself up with such completeness and frank 
 honesty to this new feeling, and made so little pretence to 
 hide it, that now she became glad and merry instead of sad 
 and sorry. 
 
 When the Princess Mariya, after that midnight declaration
 
 250 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 of Pierre's, returned to her room, Natasha met her on the 
 threshold. 
 
 " He has spoken ? Yes ? He has spoken ? " she insisted, 
 and an expression, joyous, and at the same time pathetically 
 pleading for forgiveness for her joy, came into Natasha's face. 
 " I was tempted to listen at the door ; but I knew that you 
 would tell me." 
 
 Thoroughly as the princess understood the look which 
 Natasha gave her, touching as it was, much as she pitied her 
 emotion, still Natasha's words, at the first instant, offended 
 the Princess Mariya. She remembered her brother, his love 
 for her. 
 
 " But what is to be done ? She cannot be otherwise than 
 what she is ? " reasoned the Princess Mariya, and with a mel- 
 ancholy and rather stern face she told Natasha all that Pierre 
 had said to her. 
 
 When she heard that he was going to Petersburg, Natasha 
 was thunder-struck. 
 
 " To Petersburg ? " she repeated, as though not taking it 
 in. But when she observed the melancholy expression which 
 the Princess Mariya's face wore, she surmised the reason for 
 her melancholy, and burst into tears. 
 
 " Marie," said she, " tell me what must I do ? I am afraid 
 I am doing wrong. I will do whatever you say ; teach me." 
 
 " Do you love him ? " 
 
 " Yes," whispered Natasha. 
 
 " What makes you cry, then ? I am glad for you," said the 
 Princess Mariya, already, because of these tears, completely 
 pardoning Natasha's joy. 
 
 " It will not be very soon. Just think what happiness 
 when I am his wife and you marry Nicolas." 
 
 "Natasha, I have asked you never to speak about that. We 
 will talk about yourself." 
 
 Both were silent. 
 
 " But why must he go to Petersburg ? " suddenly exclaimed 
 Natasha, and made haste to answer her own question. "Well, 
 well, it is best so. Yes, Marie, it is best so." 

 
 EPILOG. 
 
 .PART FIRST. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 SEVEN years had passed. The storm-tossed historical sea 
 of Europe lay sleeping on its shores. It seemed at peace ; 
 but the mysterious forces which moved humanity mysteri- 
 ous because the laws which govern their movements are 
 unknown to us were continually at work. 
 
 Though the surface of the historical sea seemed motionless, 
 humanity was pressing onward with a motion as continuous 
 as the passage of time. 
 
 Distinct groups of men were organized and disorganized : 
 causes for the formation and disintegration of empires and 
 the migrations of nations were set on foot. 
 
 The historical sea no longer, as before, swayed in vast swells 
 from shore to shore. It boiled in its secret depths. 
 
 Historical characters no longer, as before, rode on the crest 
 of the billows from shore to shore : they now seemed to be 
 gathered together in one place. Historical personages, who 
 before, at the head of armies, had reflected the motion of the 
 masses by calls to war, by campaigns and battles, now reflected 
 this movement by political and diplomatic combinations, laws, 
 treaties. 
 
 This activity of historical personages historians call re-action. 
 
 Historians, in describing the activity of these historical per- 
 sonages, who, according to their judgment, were the cause of 
 what they call the re-action, are very severe in their strictures 
 upon them. All the famous people of that time, from Alex- 
 ander and Napoleon to Madame de Stael, Fothier, Schelling, 
 Fichte, Chateaubriand, and the like, are haled before this 
 stern court of justice, and justified or condemned, from the 
 standpoint of whether they helped progress or re-action. 
 
 In Russia, also, according to their writings, re-action set in 
 
 251
 
 252 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 about this same time, and the one principally to blame for this 
 re-action was Alexander I. that same Alexander I. who, 
 according to their writings, was the principal cause of the 
 liberal tendencies of his reign and the salvation of Russia. 
 
 In Eussian literature at the present time there is no one, 
 from the schoolboy to the accomplished historian, who would 
 not cast a stone at Alexander for his faulty behavior at this 
 period of his reign. 
 
 " He ought to have done this or done that." 
 
 " In such and such a case he did well, in something else he 
 did ill." 
 
 " He behaved splendidly at the beginning of his reign and 
 during 1812 ; but he did wrong in giving a constitution to 
 Poland, in establishing the Holy Alliance, in granting power 
 to Arakcheyef, in encouraging first Golitsuin and mysticism, 
 and afterwards encouraging Shishkof and Fothier." 
 
 " He made an error in employing the van of the army ; he 
 blundered in disbanding the Semyonovsky regiment," and so 
 on and so on. 
 
 One might fill a dozen pages with the enumeration of all 
 the reproaches which the historians have made against him on 
 the ground of that knowledge of the welfare of humanity 
 which they possess. 
 
 What is the significance of these reproaches ? 
 
 The very same actions for which the historians praise Alex- 
 ander I. for instance, the liberal tendency of his reign, his 
 quarrel with Napoleon, the firmness which he displayed in the 
 year 1812 and during the campaign of 1813 do they not flow 
 from exactly the same sources the conditions of blood, edu- 
 cation, life, which made Alexander's personality what it was 
 from which also flowed the actions for which the historians 
 blame him : for instance, the Holy Alliance, the restoration erf 
 Poland, the re-action of the twenties ? 
 
 What constitutes the essence of these reproaches ? 
 
 In this that such an historical personage as Alexander 
 I., a personage standing on the highest possible pinnacle of 
 human power, as it were in the focus of the dazzling light of 
 the historical rays concentrated upon him a personage sub- 
 jected to the most potent influences in the world, in the form 
 of intrigues, deceptions, flatteries, inseparable from power ; a 
 personage who, every moment of his life, bore the responsi- 
 bility of all that took place in Europe ; and not an imaginary 
 personage, but as much alive as any other man, with his own 
 individual peculiarities, passions, aspirations for the good, the
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 253 
 
 beautiful, the true, that this personage, fifty * years ago, 
 lacked not virtue (the historians do not reproach him for that), 
 but those views concerning the welfare of humanity which 
 are now held by any professor who from early youth has been 
 occupied with science, that is, with the reading of books and 
 lectures, and the copying of these books and lectures into a 
 note-book. 
 
 But even if it be granted that Alexander I. fifty years ago 
 was mistaken in his views as to what constitutes the true wel- 
 fare of nations, it cannot but be taken for granted that the 
 historian also who criticises Alexander will, in exactly the 
 same way, after the lapse of some time, prove himself incor- 
 rect in his view as to what is the welfare of humanity. 
 
 This proposition is all the more natural and inevitable from 
 the fact that, in the development of history, we see that every 
 year, with every new writer, the standard as to what is the 
 welfare of humanity changes : thus what once seemed good 
 becomes evil in the course of ten years, and vice versa. Still, 
 we find occurring, at one and the same time, perfectly con- 
 tradictory views as to what is good or what is evil : some re- 
 gard the constitution granted to Poland and the Holy Alli- 
 ance as creditable, others as disgraceful, to Alexander. 
 
 As to the activity of Alexander and Napoleon, it is impos- 
 sible to declare that it was advantageous or harmful, since we 
 cannot say wherein it was advantageous or wherein it was 
 harmful. If this activity fails to please any one, then it fails 
 to please simply in consequence of its failure to coincide with 
 this person's limited comprehension as to what is good. 
 
 Apart from the question- whether the preservation of my 
 father's house in Moscow in 1812, or the glory of the Russian 
 troops, or the weal of the Petersburg or any other university, 
 or the freedom of Poland, or the might of Russia, or the 
 balance of Europe, or a certain state of European enlight- 
 enment progress appear to me advantageous, I must ac- 
 knowledge that the activity of every historical personage had, 
 besides these ends and aims, still others, more universal and 
 beyond my comprehension. 
 
 But let us grant that so-called science has the capacity of 
 reconciling all contradictions, and has for all historical char- 
 acters and events an. invariable, absolute standard of right and 
 wrong. 
 
 Let us grant that Alexander might have done everything in 
 a different way. Let us grant that he might, according to the 
 * " War and Peace" was written between 1864 and 1869.
 
 254 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 prescription of those who accuse him, those who profess to have 
 a knowledge of the final causes of the movements of human- 
 ity, that he might have acted in accordance with the pro- 
 gram of nationality, liberty, equality, and progress, which 
 his present-day accusers would have laid down for him. 
 Let us grant that this program might have been possible 
 and might have been laid down, and that Alexander might 
 have acted in accordance with it. What, then, would have 
 become of the activity of all those men who at that time were 
 in opposition to the tendency of the administration? of that 
 activity which, according to the opinion of the historians, was 
 good and profitable ? 
 
 This activity would not have existed ; there would have 
 been no life ; there would have been nothing. 
 
 If it is admitted that human life can be directed by reason, 
 then the possibility of life is annihilated. 
 
 CHAPTER IJ. 
 
 IF it is admitted, as the historians do, that great men lead 
 humanity toward the attainment of certain ends, such as the 
 greatness of Russia or France, or the balance of Europe, or 
 the propagation of the ideas of the Revolution, or progress in 
 general, or any other object, then it is impossible to explain 
 the phenomena of history without the concept chance or 
 genius. 
 
 If the object of the European wars at the beginning of the 
 present century had been the greatness of Russia, this object 
 might have been attained without the preliminary wars and 
 without the invasion. 
 
 If the object had been the greatness of France, this object 
 might have been attained without the Revolution and the 
 empire. 
 
 If the end had been the propagation of ideas, the Press 
 would have accomplished it far better than soldiers. 
 
 If the object had been the progress of civilization, it is per- 
 fectly easy to suppose that there are ways for the propagation 
 of civilization more expedient than the destruction of men and 
 their property. 
 
 Why did it happen this way and not that ? 
 
 Simply because it happened so. 
 
 " Chance created the situation, genius profited by it," says 
 history.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 255 
 
 But what is chance, and what is genius ? 
 
 The words " chance " and " genius " represent nothing that 
 actually exists, and therefore cannot be denned. 
 
 These words only indicate a certain degree of comprehen- 
 sion of phenomena. 
 
 I know not the cause of a certain phenomenon ; I believe 
 that I cannot know it ; therefore I do not try to know it, and 
 I say chance. 
 
 I see that a force has produced an action disproportionate to 
 the ordinary human qualities : I cannot understand the cause 
 of this force, and I cry genius. 
 
 To the flock of sheep, the sheep which is driven off every 
 evening by the shepherd to a separate pen, and given extra 
 food, and becomes twice as fat as the others, must ' seem to be 
 a genius. The very fact that every evening this particular 
 sheep, instead of going to the common fold, has a special pen 
 and extra food, and that this sheep, this particular sheep, 
 once fattened, is killed for mutton, doubtless impresses the 
 other sheep as a remarkable combination of genius with a 
 whole series of extraordinary chances. 
 
 But if the sheep will only stop thinking that everything that 
 happens to them results solely for the attainment of their 
 sheepish welfare ; if they grant that the events happening to 
 them may have objects which they cannot comprehend, they 
 will immediately perceive a unity and logic in what happened 
 to the fattened sheep. 
 
 Even if they cannot know why it was fattened, they will, 
 at least, know that nothing that happened to the sheep hap- 
 pened by chance, and they will not need either the concept of 
 chance or the concept of genius. 
 
 Only when we rid ourselves of the idea of the proximate 
 and visible object, the end of things, and recognize that the 
 ultimate end is wholly unattainable to us, can we see a logical 
 connection in the lives of historical personages ; there will be 
 revealed to us the cause of that disproportion between the 
 capacities of ordinary men and the deeds that they perform, 
 and we shall not need the words chance and genius. 
 
 It is sufficient simply to admit that the object of the move- 
 ments of European nations is unknown to us, and that we 
 know only facts, such as the butcheries first in France, then 
 in Italy, in Africa, in Prussia, in Austria, in Spain, in Russia, 
 and that the movement from west to east and from east 
 to west constituted the essence and object of events, and we 
 shall not only no longer need to find genius or anything excep-
 
 256 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 tional in the characters of Napoleon and of Alexander, but it 
 will be impossible for us to imagine these personages as any- 
 thing else than men like all other men, and we shall not only 
 not need to explain 011 the score of chance the little events 
 that made these personages what they were, but it will be 
 evident to us that all these little events were necessary. 
 
 When we rid ourselves of the knowledge of the ultimate end, 
 we clearly understand that, just as it is impossible to imagine 
 on a given plant other flowers and other fruits than those which 
 it produces, so is it impossible to imagine two other men with 
 all that they did who would have been fitted to such a degree 
 and in the smallest details to the mission which they were 
 called upon to fulfil. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE fundamental, essential fact in European events at the 
 beginning of the present century is the warlike movements of 
 masses of the nations of Europe from west to east, and then 
 from east to west. 
 
 The first sign of this movement was the movement from 
 west to east. 
 
 In order that the nations of the west might push their war- 
 like advance as far as Moscow, it was necessary : 
 
 1. That they should be concentrated into a warlike mass 
 of sufficient magnitude to endure conflict with the warlike 
 mass of the east ; 
 
 2. That they should renounce all their long-founded tradi- 
 tions and habits ; and 
 
 3. That, when this warlike movement was accomplished, 
 they should have at their head a man of their own sort, who 
 could justify himself and them for the lies, the pillage, and 
 the slaughter which accompanied this movement of theirs as 
 an essential concomitant. 
 
 And, beginning back with the French Revolution, the prim- 
 itive group, which is not large enough, disperses ; old habits 
 and traditions come to naught ; little by little, a group of new 
 precedents, new habits, and new traditions is formed, and the 
 man who is to take his place at the head of the coming move- 
 ment, and bear all the responsibility of the events to follow, is 
 prepared for his mission. 
 
 A man without convictions, without habitudes, without tra- 
 ditions, without name, not even a Frenchman, by what
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 257 
 
 seems strange chances, glides through all the parties agitat- 
 ing France, and, taking part with none, is borne to his des- 
 tined place. 
 
 The stupidity of his associates, the weakness and inanity of 
 his rivals, his own frankness in lying, and his brilliant and self- 
 confident mediocrity, place this man at the head of the army. 
 
 The excellent quality of the soldiers in his Italian army, the 
 disinclination of the enemy to fight, his childish audacity and 
 self-confidence, give him military glory. 
 
 An infinite number of so-called chances meet him every- 
 where. 
 
 The disfavor into which he falls with the authorities of the 
 French serves to his advantage. 
 
 His attempts to change his predestined career are failures : 
 he is not received into the Russian service, the appointment 
 to Turkey is not given to him. 
 
 During the war in Italy, he several times comes to the very 
 brink of destruction, and every time escapes in some unex- 
 pected way. 
 
 The Russian troops, the very ones who have the power to 
 extinguish his glory, through various diplomatic combinations, 
 do not enter Europe while he is there. 
 
 On his return from Italy, he finds the government at Paris 
 in a state of decomposition so far advanced that the men form- 
 ing it are inevitably doomed to ruin ; and an escape from this 
 dangerous situation offers itself to him in the senseless, unrea- 
 sonable expedition to Africa. 
 
 Again so-called chances accompany him. Impregnable 
 Malta surrenders without the firing of a shot ; the most 
 foolhardy plans are crowned with success. 
 
 The hostile fleet, which afterwards would not allow a single 
 row-boat to pass, allows his army to pass ! 
 
 In Africa, a whole- series of atrocities are committed upon 
 the almost unarmed inhabitants. And the men who unite 
 with him in these atrocities, and especially their chief, per- 
 suade themselves that this is admirable, that this is glory, that 
 this is like Caesar and Alexander of Macedon, and that this is 
 great ! 
 
 This ideal of glory and greatness, which consists in the 
 thought that nothing is to be considered wicked, and that 
 every crime is to be arrogated for pride and takes an incon- 
 ceivable and supernatural significance, this ideal, which is 
 destined to be the guide of this man and of those allied with 
 him, has full field for increase in Africa. 
 VOL. 4. 17.
 
 258 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 All that he undertakes prospers. The plague touches him 
 not. The cruelty of the massacre of prisoners is not imputed 
 to him as a crime. 
 
 His puerile, senseless, unreasonable, dishonorable departure 
 from Africa, from his companions in distress, is accounted to 
 him as meritorious, and again, the second time, the hostile fleet 
 allows him to pass. 
 
 When, dazzled by the fortunate crimes committed by him, 
 and ready to play his part, but without any definite object in 
 view, he reaches Paris, the republican government, which a 
 year before might still have put an end to him, has now 
 attained the last degree of disintegration, and the fact that 
 he, a man belonging to no party, is on hand, can only bring 
 him to the supreme power. 
 
 He has no plan ; he fears every one ; but the parties hold 
 out their hands to him, and beg his support. 
 
 He alone, with that ideal of glory and greatness built up 
 in Italy and Egypt, with his idiotic self -adoration, with his 
 audacity in crime, with his frankness in lying, he alone is 
 able to bring to realization the events which are about to take 
 place. 
 
 He is the one needed for that place which is waiting for 
 him, and therefore, almost independently of his own will, 111 
 spite of his irresolution, his lack of any determined plan, and 
 all the blunders that he makes, he is drawn into a conspiracy 
 the aim of which is the possession of power, and the con- 
 spiracy is crowned with success. 
 
 He is thrust into a session of the Directory. Alarmed, he 
 wishes to escape, counting himself lost ; he pretends that he is 
 faint ; he utters senseless things that ought by good rights to 
 have been his destruction. 
 
 But the directors of France, once so bold and haughty, now 
 feeling that their part is played, and being more confused 
 than he is, say just the words that they should not have said 
 to retain their power and overthrow him. 
 
 Chance, millions of chances give him power, and all men, -as 
 if in haste, agree to confirm this power. 
 
 Chance forms the character of the members of the Directors 
 of France it that time subservient to him. 
 
 Chance forms the character of Paul I., who recognizes his 
 power. 
 
 Chance forms against Napoleon a plot which, instead of 
 being prejudicial to him, confirms his power. 
 
 Chance brings the Prince d'Enghien into his hands, and
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 259 
 
 unexpectedly compels him to assassinate him ; this very act, 
 more than any other, proving to the multitude that he had the 
 right, since he had the might. 
 
 Chance brings it about that he gives all his powers to an 
 expedition against England which would evidently have ruined 
 him, and never carries out the plan, but falls unexpectedly 
 upon Mack and the Austrians, who surrender without a 
 battle. 
 
 Chance and genius give him the victory at Austerlitz, and, 
 by chance, all men, not only the French but all Europe (with 
 the exception of England, which takes no part in the events 
 about to occur), all men, in spite of their former horror and 
 repulsion at his crimes, now recognize his power, his title, 
 which he has given himself, and his ideal of glory and great- 
 ness,' which seems to them all reasonable and beautiful. 
 
 As though practising and preparing for the future move- 
 ment, the forces of the west several times push toward the 
 east in 1805, 1806, 1807, and 1809, all the time strengthening 
 and increasing. 
 
 In 1811 the group of men formed in France unites into an 
 enormous group with the nations of Central Europe. 
 
 While this group of men goes on increasing, the man at 
 the head of the movement finds his powers more and more 
 developed. 
 
 During the ten years' preparatory period preceding this 
 great movement, this man has been the leader of all the 
 crowned heads of Europe. Dethroned rulers of the world 
 have no reasonable ideal to oppose to the senseless Napo- 
 leonic ideal of glory and greatness. One after another they 
 strive to show him their own insignificance. 
 
 The King of Prussia, sends his wife to solicit the great 
 man's favo-r ; the Emperor of Austria considers it a favor if 
 this man will take to his bed the daughter of the Kaisers ; 
 the pope, holy guardian of the nations, makes use of his reli- 
 gion to raise the great man higher. 
 
 Napoleon does not prepare himself for the fulfilment of his 
 part so much as it is his whole environment, which makes him 
 assume all the responsibility for what is taking place and for 
 what is about to take place. 
 
 No act, no crime, no petty deception which he essays fails 
 to be instantly hailed by those arpund him as some mighty 
 deed. 
 
 The best entertainment for him which the Germans can 
 think of is the celebration of Jena and Auerstadt. 

 
 260 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 Not alone is he great ; his ancestors, his brothers, his step- 
 sons, his brothers-in-law are also great. 
 
 Everything conspires to take from him the last vestige of 
 reason, and to make ready for his terrible career. 
 
 When he is ready, the forces are also ready. 
 
 The invasion rushes toward the east, reaches its final goal 
 Moscow. 
 
 The capital is taken. The Eussian army is more completely 
 shattered than ever were the hostile armies from Austerlitz to 
 Wagram. 
 
 But suddenly, instead of the chances and strokes of genius 
 which have borne him so steadily till now through an uninter- 
 rupted series of successes to the predestined end, appear an 
 incalculable quantity of contrary chances, from the influenza 
 at Borodino, to the frosts and the sparks that set fire to Mos-: 
 cow ; and instead of genius appear unexampled stupidity and. 
 baseness. 
 
 The invasion runs away, turns back, again runs away, and 
 all the chances are now not in his favor but against him. 
 
 There occurs a counter-movement, from east to west, bearing 
 a close resemblance to the preceding movement from west 
 east. 
 
 The same symptoms of the movement from east to west as 
 occurred in 1805-1807, and 1809, precede the great movement : 
 the same union into a group of colossal proportions ; in the 
 same way the nations of Central Europe rally to this move- 
 ment ; the same irresolution in the midst of the way, and the ; 
 same velocity in proportion as the goal is approached. 
 
 Paris, the ultimate goal, is reached. The Napoleonic govern- 
 ment and army are overthrown. 
 
 Napoleon himself no longer has any of his former signifi- 
 cance, all his actions strike men as pitiable and disgusting : 
 but once more an inexplicable chance supervenes; the allies 
 hate Napoleon, and see in him the cause of their misfortunes ; 
 deprived of prestige and power, convicted of crimes and per- 
 fidy, he ought to have been regarded as he had been ten years 
 before, and as he was a year later, as a bandit, outside of the 
 law. But, by a strange chance, no one sees this. 
 
 His role is not yet finished. 
 
 The man who, ten years before and a year later, men held 
 to be a bandit, outside the 'law, is sent two days' distance from I 
 France to an island, which is given to him as a domain, with 
 a guard, and millions which are paid to him, for some reason ! i 
 
 "5 
 
 " 
 
 as
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 261 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE movement of the nations begins to calm itself along 
 the shores. The waves of the great uprising fall back, and on ' 
 the tranquil sea are formed various eddies on which float 
 diplomatists, imagining that they have brought about the 
 cessation of the commotion. 
 
 But the tranquil sea suddenly rises again. The diplomatists 
 imagine that their dissensions are the cause of the new storm ; 
 they anticipate another war among their sovereigns. The 
 situation seems to them inexplicable. 
 
 But the wave the approach of which they feel comes not 
 in the direction from which they expect it. 
 
 It is the uprising of the same wave from the same point of 
 departure, Paris. The last recoil of the movement from the 
 west takes place a recoil which is destined to solve the 
 diplomatic difficulties, which have seemed inexplicable, and to 
 put an end to the warlike movement of that period. 
 
 The man who has devastated France returns to France 
 alone, without the aid of a conspiracy, without soldiers. Any 
 guardsman is at liberty to capture him, but, by a strange 
 chance, not only does no one touch him, but all run with 
 enthusiasm to meet this man whom they had cursed the day 
 before, and whom they will curse a month later. 
 
 This man is still needed for the completion of the last act. 
 
 The act is ended. 
 
 The play is over. The actor is told to remove his costume, 
 and wash off the antimony and the rouge. 
 
 He is no longer needed. 
 
 And several years pass while this man, in solitude on his 
 island, plays by himself a miserable comedy, intrigues and 
 lies, justifying his actions, when justification is no longer ne- 
 cessary, and shows to the whole world what it was that men 
 took for a force when the invisible Hand made use of it. 
 
 The Manager, having ended the drama and unmasked the 
 actor, exposes him to us. 
 
 " See in whom you have believed ! Here he is. Do you 
 see now that not he, but I, moved you ? " 
 
 But, blinded by the violence of the movement, men long 
 failed to understand this. 
 
 Still greater logical sequence and necessity can be seen in 
 the life of Alexander I., that personage who was at the head 
 of the counter-movement, from east to west.
 
 262 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 Wnat qualities should the man possess who should take 
 precedence of others and be placed at the head of this move- 
 ment from east to west ? 
 
 He must have the sense of justice, and take a sympathetic 
 part in the affairs of Europe, one free from all petty interests. 
 
 He must have a loftier moral character than any of his con- 
 temporaries, the other sovereigns of his time. He must have 
 a sweet and captivating personality. And he must have a per- 
 sonal grievance against Napoleon. 
 
 And all this is found in Alexander I. ; all this was produced 
 by innumerable so-called chances throughout his past life: 
 his education, his liberal beginnings, and the counsellors by 
 whom he was surrounded, by Austerlitz and Tilsit and Erfurt. 
 
 Throughout the patriotic war, this personage is inactive, 
 because he is not needed. 
 
 But, as soon as the necessity of a general European war 
 becomes evident, this personage is found at the given moment 
 in his place, and, rallying. the nations of Europe, he leads 
 them to their goal. 
 
 The goal is reached. 
 
 After the final war of 1815, Alexander finds himself at the 
 highest pinnacle of human power. 
 
 What use does he make of this power ? 
 
 Alexander I., the pacificator of Europe, the man who from 
 his youth had striven only for the welfare of his people, the 
 first to introduce liberal innovations in his country, now, it 
 seems, when he possesses unlimited power, and therefore the 
 ability to bring about the welfare of his people at the very 
 time that Napoleon, in exile, is making childish and fictitious 
 plans how he would benefit humanity if he had the power, 
 Alexander I., who has fulfilled his mission, and feels the hand 
 of God upon him, suddenly comes to a realizijig sense of the 
 nothingness of this presumable power, renounces it, and gives 
 it into the hands of men whom he scorns and despises, and 
 merely said, 
 
 " ' Not unto us, not unto us, but unto Thy name ! ' I am a 
 man like other men. Let me live like a man, and think of my 
 soul a*nd of God." 
 
 As the sun and every atom of ether is a sphere perfect in 
 itself, and at the same time only an atom in the mighty All 
 inaccessible to man, so each individual has within himself his j 
 own objects, and at the same time serves the common object i 
 inaccessible to man.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 263 
 
 The bee, poising on a flower, stings a child And the child 
 is afraid of bees, and declares that the object of the bee is to 
 
 St The P poet e admires the bee sucking from the calyx of a flower, 
 and declares to us that the object of bees is to absorb into 
 itself the aroma of the flowers. 
 
 The bee-keeper, observing that the bee gathers pollen and 
 brings it home to the hive, declares that the object of bees is 
 the manufacture of honey. 
 
 Another bee-keeper, observing more closely the habits of the 
 swarm,, declares that the bee gathers pollen for the nourish- 
 ment of the young bees and the exploitation of the queen, and 
 that the object of the bee is the propagation of the species. 
 
 A botanist observes that the bee, in flying with the dust oi 
 a dioecious flower to the pistils of another, fertilizes it ; and 
 the botanist sees in this the object of the bee. 
 
 Another, observing the transmigration of plants, sees that 
 the bee assists in this transmigration; and this new observer 
 may say that in this consists the object of the bee. 
 
 But the final object of the bee is not wholly included in the 
 first or the second or the third of the objects which the human 
 mind is able to discover. 
 
 The higher the human mind rises in its efforts to discover 
 these objects, the more evident it is that the final object is 
 inaccessible to man. 
 
 Man can only observe the correlation existing between the 
 life of the bee and the other phenomena of life. The same is 
 true in regard to the objects of historical personages and 
 nations. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 NATASHA'S marriage to Bezukhoi, which took place in 1813, 
 was the last happy event in the old family of the Eostof s. 
 That same year Count Ilya Andreyevitch died, and, as always 
 happens, his death brought about the end of the former fam- 
 ily. The events of the preceding year, the conflagration of 
 Moscow and the family's flight from the city, the death of 
 Prince Andrei and Natasha's despair, Petya's death, the coun- 
 tess's grief, all taken together, blow upon blow, fell upon the 
 old count's head. , , 
 
 It seemed as though he could not comprehend, and as though 
 he realized that he had not the strength to comprehend, the
 
 264 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 significance of all these events ; he morally, as it were, bent his 
 old head, as though expecting and inviting the new blows 
 which would finish him. 
 
 He appeared sometimes frightened and abstracted, some- 
 times unnaturally excited and alert. 
 
 Natasha's marriage, for the time being, gave him something 
 to think about outside of himself. He ordered dinners and 
 suppers, and evidently tried to be cheerful ; but his gayety was 
 not contagious as of yore ; on the contrary, it aroused compas- 
 sion in people who knew and liked him. 
 
 After Pierre and his bride had taken their departure, he fell 
 into a very feeble condition, and began to complain of not 
 feeling well. In a few days he grew really ill and took to his 
 bed. From the first days of his illness, in spite of the doc- 
 tor's encouragement, he felt certain that he should not recover. 
 
 The countess, without undressing, spent a fortnight in her 
 arm-chair by his bedside. Every time that she gave him his 
 medicine, he would sob and silently kiss her hand. On the 
 last day he wept and begged the forgiveness of his wife and 
 his absent son for the dissipation of their property, the chief 
 blame for which, he felt, rested on himself. 
 
 Having taken the last communion and final unction, he 
 died peacefully, and on the following day a throng of acquaint- 
 ances, who came to pay their duties to the late lamented, filled 
 the Rostofs' lodgings. All these acquaintances, who had so 
 many times dined and danced at his house, who had so many 
 times made sport of him, now, with a unanimous feeling of in- 
 ward reproach and emotion, said, as though justifying them- 
 selves before some one, 
 
 "Yes, whatever may be said, he was, after all, one of the 
 best of men. We don't often find such men these days. 
 And who has not his weaknesses ? " 
 
 Just at the very time when the count's affairs had become 
 so entangled that it was impossible to see what the end would 
 be if they were allowed to go on for another year, he had un- 
 expectedly died. 
 
 Nikolai was with the Russian troops in Paris, when the 
 news of his father's death reached him. He immediately ten- 
 dered his resignation, and, without waiting for it to be ac- 
 cepted, took a furlough and hastened to Moscow. 
 
 The state of the family finances within a month after the 
 count's death, were perfectly scheduled, and surprised every 
 one by the magnitude of the sum to which the various little 
 debts amounted, the existence of which no one had even 
 suspected.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 265 
 
 The property would not half pay the debts. 
 Nikolai's relatives and friends advised him to renounce the 
 inheritance. But Nikolai saw in this suggestion the implica- 
 tion of a reproach to his father's memory, which he held sa- 
 cred, and therefore he refused to hear anything said about 
 renouncing the inheritance, and accepted it with all the obli- 
 gations to settle the debts. 
 
 The creditors, who had been so long silent, being kept good- 
 natured during the count's lifetime by the vague but powerful 
 influence which his easy-going generosity had exerted upon 
 them, now all suddenly began to clamor for their debts to be 
 paid. As always happens, there sprang up a regular competi- 
 tion as to who should be the first to be paid ; and those very 
 persons, like Mitenka and others, who held accommodation 
 notes gratuities often now showed themselves as the most 
 pressing of the creditors. 
 
 ' Nikolai was given no rest or respite ; and those who appar- 
 ently had had pity on the old man the cause of their losses, 
 if losses they were were now pitiless toward the young heir, 
 who was evidently innocent toward them, but had honorably 
 assumed his father's debts. 
 
 Not one of the speculations which Nikolai tried to engineer 
 was successful : the real estate was sold by auction, but did not 
 bring half its value, and still half the debts remained un- 
 liquidated. Nikolai took thirty thousand rubles which his 
 brother-in-law offered him to pay that portion of the debts 
 which he considered most pressing. And in order that lie 
 might not be sent to jail for the remaining obligations, as the 
 other creditors threatened, he again entered the service. 
 
 To return to the .army where at the first vacancy he would 
 be promoted as regimental commander, was now impossible, 
 because his mother clung so to her only son as the last joy of 
 her life : and therefore, in spite of his disinclination to remain 
 in Moscow, in the circle of those who had always known him, 
 notwithstanding his distaste for the civil service, he staid in 
 Moscow and accepted a place in the civil section, and, giving up 
 the uniform which he so loved, he settled down with his mother 
 and Sonya in a modest apartment on the Sivtsevoi Vrazhek. 
 
 Natasha and Pierre were at this time living at Petersburg, 
 and had not the least idea of Nikolai's position. Nikolai, who 
 had already had some money from his brother-in-law, strove 
 to hide from him his unhappy situation. His position was 
 rendered peculiarly hard because, with his twelve hundred 
 rubles salary, he was not only obliged to support himselt,
 
 266 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 Sonya, and his mother, but he was obliged to live in such a 
 way that his mother would not suspect that they were poor. 
 The. countess could not conceive of any existence without 
 those conditions of luxury to which she had been accustomed 
 from childhood ; and without a suspicion that it was hard for 
 her son, she was continually requiring a carriage, though they 
 had none, to send for a friend ; or some rich delicacy for her- 
 self, or wine for her son, or money to send some gift for a 
 surprise to Natasha, Sonya, or Nikolai himself. 
 
 Sonya had charge of the domestic arrangements, waited on 
 her aunt, read aloud to her, endured her whims and her secret 
 ill will, and aided Nikolai in hiding from the old countess the 
 condition of poverty to which they were reduced. 
 
 Nikolai felt that he owed Sonya a heavier debt of gratitude 
 than he could ever repay for all that she had done for his 
 mother ; he admired her patience and devotion, but he tried to 
 avoid her. 
 
 In the depths of his heart, he, as it were, reproached her for 
 her very perfection, and because there was nothing for which 
 to reproach her. She had every quality which people prize ; 
 but still there was lacking the something which would have 
 compelled him to love her. And he felt that the more he 
 prized her, the less he loved her. He had taken her at her 
 word when she wrote the letter releasing him from his prom- 
 ise, and now he treated her as though all that had taken place 
 between them had been long, long forgotten, and could never 
 by any chance return. 
 
 Nikolai's condition grew worse and worse. The idea of 
 saving something from his salary became a dream with him. 
 Instead of laying up anything, he was driven by his mother's 
 constant demands upon him to incur petty debts. There 
 seemed to be no way out of his difficulties. 
 
 The idea of making a wealthy marriage, such as had "been 
 proposed to him by his relatives, was repugnant to him. The 
 only other escape from his situation the death of his mother 
 never occurred to him. He had no wishes, and he had no 
 hope, and in the deepest depths of his heart he experienced a 
 stern and gloomy enjoyment in thus resignedly enduring his 
 situation. He tried to avoid his old acquaintances, their con- 
 dolence and humiliating offers of assistance ; he avoided every 
 sort of amusement and dissipation, and did not even do any- 
 thing at home except play cards with his mother, or pace in 
 gloomy silence up and down the room, smoking pipe after pipe. 
 
 He cherished, as it were, this gloomy state, in which alone he 
 felt himself capable of enduring his position.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 267 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 EARLY in the winter the Princess M^riya came to Moscow. 
 From the current gossip of town she learned of the position 
 of the Bostofs, and how "the son. was sacrificing himself for 
 his mother," for so it was said in the city. 
 
 " I should have expected nothing else from him," said the 
 Princess Mariya to herself, feeling a joyful confirmation of 
 her love for him. 
 
 When she remembered her relations of friendship, almost 
 of kinship, to the whole family, she felt it her^ duty to go to 
 see them. But when she remembered her relations to Nikolai 
 at Voronezh she dreaded to do so. At length, several weeks 
 after her return to the city, she made a powerful effort and 
 went to the Eostofs'. 
 
 Nikolai was the first to meet her, for the reason that the 
 countess's room could be reached only by passing through his. 
 When he first caught sight of her, his face, instead of showing 
 that joy which the princess had expected to see, assumed an 
 expression cold, haughty, and repellent, which the princess 
 had never before seen in it. Nikolai inquired after her health, 
 conducted her to his mother, and, after remaining five minutes, 
 left the room. 
 
 When the princess left the countess, Nikolai again met her, 
 and with especial ceremony and reserve ushered her into the 
 anteroom. He answered never a word to her remark about 
 the countess's health. 
 
 " What have I to .do with you ? Leave me in peace," his 
 look seemed to say. 
 
 " Now, what makes her come round ? What does she want ? 
 I can't endure these fine ladies and all their inquisitive ways," 
 he said aloud in Sonya's presence, evidently not able to restrain 
 his annoyance after the princess's carriage had rolled away. 
 
 " Oh ! how can you say so, Nicolas ! " said Sonya, who could 
 scarcely restrain her joy. " She is so good, and maman loves 
 her so." 
 
 Nikolai made no answer, and would have preferred not to 
 say anything more about the princess. But from that time 
 forth the old countess kept talking about her a dozen times a 
 day. 
 
 The countess praised her, insisted on her son going to return 
 her call, expressed her anxiety to see her more frequently, but
 
 268 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 at the same time, whenever she spoke of her, she always got 
 out of sorts. 
 
 Nikolai tried to hold his tongue when his mother spoke of 
 the princess ; his silence annoyed his mother. 
 
 " She is a very worthy and lovely girl," she would say, " and 
 you must go and call upon her. At all events, you will see 
 somebody. It seems to me it must be tedious for you with 
 us." 
 
 " I don't care to see anybody, mamenka ! " 
 
 " A little while ago you wanted to see people, but now it's 
 ( I don't care to.' Truly, my dear boy, I don't understand 
 you. You have been finding it tedious, but now suddenly you 
 don't wish to see any one ! " 
 
 "But I haven't said it was tedious to me." 
 
 " Did you not just say that you did not want to see her ? 
 She is a very worthy girl and .you always liked her, but 
 now you find some excuse or other. It's all a mystery to 
 me ! " 
 
 " Why, not at all, mamenka ! " 
 
 " If I had asked you to. do something disagreeable but no, 
 all I ask of you, is to go and return this call ! It would seem 
 as if politeness demanded it I have asked you, and now I 
 shall not interfere any more, since you have secrets from your 
 mother." 
 
 " But I will go, if you wish it." 
 
 " It's all the same to me. I wish it for your sake." 
 
 Nikolai sighed, and, gnawing his mustache, proceeded to lay 
 out the cards, trying to divert his mother's attention to some- 
 thing else. 
 
 On the next day, on the third, and on the fourth, the same 
 conversation was renewed. 
 
 After her call upon the Rostofs and the unexpectedly cool 
 reception which Nikolai had given her, the Princess Mariya 
 confessed to herself that she had been right in not wishing to 
 go to the Rostofs' first. 
 
 " I expected as much," said she to herself, calling her pride 
 to her assistance. " I have nothing to do with him, and I only 
 wanted to see the old lady, who has always been good to me, 
 and who is bound to me by so many ties." 
 
 But she could not calm her agitation by these arguments ; a 
 feeling akin to remorse tormented her when she remembered 
 her visit. Although she had firmly resolved not to go to the 
 Rostofs' again, and to forget all about it, she could not help 
 feeling that she was in a false position. And when she asked
 
 WAR AND PEACE, 269 
 
 herself what it was that tormented her, she had to confess 
 that it was her relation to Rostbf . 
 
 His cool, formal tone did not really express his feelings 
 (she knew it), and this tone only covered something. She felt 
 that it was necessary for her to discover this something. And 
 until she did, she felt that it was impossible for her to be at 
 peace. 
 
 One time in midwinter she was in the schoolroom, attending 
 to her nephew's lessons, when Kostof's name was announced. 
 
 With a firm determination not to betray her secret and not 
 to manifest her confusion, she summoned Mile. Bourienne 
 and went down with her into the drawing-room. At her first 
 glance into Nikolai's face she perceived that he had come 
 merely to fulfil the duty of politeness, and she firmly vowed 
 that she would keep to the same tone in which he treated her. 
 
 They talked about the countess's health, about common 
 acquaintances, and about the latest news of the war, and when 
 the ten minutes demanded by etiquette had passed, at the end 
 of which the caller can take his departure, Nikolai rose to say 
 good-by. 
 
 The princess, with Mile. Bourienne's aid, .had sustained the 
 conversation very well ; but at the very last moment, just as 
 he rose to his feet, she had grown so weary of talking about 
 things that interested her not, and the thought why she alone 
 had so little pleasure in life came over her so powerfully, that 
 she fell into a fit of abstraction, and sat motionless with her 
 radiant eyes looking straight ahead and not perceiving that 
 he had arisen. 
 
 Nikolai glanced at her, and, feigning not to notice her abstrac- 
 tion, spoke a few words to Mile. Bourienne, and again looked 
 at the princess. She sat as before, motionless, and an expres- 
 sion of pain crossed her gentle face. 
 
 Suddenly he felt a sense of compassion for her, and a dim 
 consciousness that he himself might be the cause of the sorrow 
 which was expressed in her face. He was anxious to help 
 her, to say something cheering to her ; but he could not think 
 what to say. 
 
 " Good-by, princess," said he. 
 
 She came to herself, flushed, and drew a long sigh. 
 
 " Oh, I beg your pardon," said she, as though awakening 
 from a dream. " Are you going already, count ? Well, good- 
 by. Oh, but the pillow for the countess ? " 
 
 " Wait, I will fetch it down to you," said Mile. Bourienne, 
 and left the room.
 
 270 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 Both, were silent, though they occasionally looked at each 
 other. 
 
 " Yes, princess," said Xikolai at last, with a melancholy 
 smile. " It does not seem very long ago, but how much has 
 happened * since you and I met first at Bogucharovo. How 
 unfortunate we all seemed then ; but I would give a good deal 
 for that time to return again but what is past, is past." 
 
 The princess looked steadily into his face with her clear, 
 radiant eyes, while he was saying this. She seemed to be 
 striving to discover what secret significance his words had, 
 that might interpret his sentiments towards her. 
 
 " Yes, yes," said she. " But you have nothing to regret in 
 the past, count. When I think what your life is now, I am 
 sure that you will always remember it with pleasure, because 
 the self-sacrifice which at the present time you " 
 
 " I cannot accept your words of praise," said he, hastily 
 interrupting her. " On the contrary, I am constantly reproach- 
 ing myself ; but this is not at all an interesting or amusing 
 subject of conversation." 
 
 And again his eyes assumed their former expression of 
 reserve and coldness. 
 
 But the princess had once more seen in him that man whom 
 she had known and loved, and she was now talking only with 
 that man. 
 
 " I thought you would permit me to say this to you," said 
 she. " You and I have been brought so near together, and 
 your family and I thought that you would not consider my 
 sympathy out of place ; but I was mistaken," said she. Her 
 voice suddenly trembled. "I do not know why," she continued, 
 correcting herself, " you were so different before, and " 
 
 " There are a thousand reasons why" he laid a special stress 
 on the word why "I thank you, princess," said he gently. 
 " Sometimes it is hard " 
 
 " So that is the reason, then, that is the reason," said a voice 
 in the Princess' Mariya's heart. " No, it was not alone his 
 merry, kind, and open eyes, not alone his handsome exterior, 
 that I loved in him ; I suspected his nobility, firmness, and 
 sacrificing heart," said she to herself. " Yes, now he is poor, 
 and I am rich. Yes, .that, then, was the sole reason. Yes, if 
 it were not that " 
 
 And, as she remembered his former gentleness, and looked 
 now into his kind and melancholy face, she suddenly realized 
 the reason of his coolness. 
 
 * Russian: " How much water has flowed."
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 271 
 
 M Why is it, count, why is it ? " she suddenly almost screamed, 
 and involuntarily came closer- to him. "Why is it ? tell me. 
 You ought to tell me." 
 
 ?I St^kn^w, count, what your why is," she went on to 
 say _Butit is hard for me too, for me - 1 confess it to you. 
 For some reason you wish to deprive me of your old friend- 
 ship. And this pains me." 
 
 The tears were in her eyes and in her voice. - 
 
 "I have so little happiness in life that every loss is hard 
 
 ''She' Sniy &!?! started to leave the 
 10 ""princess ! Wait! for God's sake!" he cried, trying to 
 
 e For several sec ends ^7 looked jnto 
 
 each other's eyes, each in silence, and what had been distant 
 and impossible, suddenly became near, possible, and 
 table. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 IN the antumn of the year 1813, Nikolai was married L to the 
 Princess Mariya, and went with his wife, his mother, and 
 Sonya to live at Luisiya Gorui. 
 
 In the course of four years, without selling any of his wile s 
 property, he settled the last of his debts and, having _ inhe rited 
 a small estate by the death of a cousin, he also paid back what 
 
 %trl latel Sin 1820, Nikolai had so managed his 
 peLiiary^ affairs that he had purchased a small estate adjoining 
 Luisiya Gorui, and was in negotiations for repurchasing Otia- 
 dnoye, which was one of his favorite dreams. , 
 
 Having been forced by necessity to manage his own estate 
 he quickly grew so passionately interested in farming that it 
 came to be his favorite and almost exclusive occupation.^ 
 
 Nikolai was a farmer of the simple old-fashioned school he 
 liked not innovations, especially the English ones .which ^ at 
 that time were coming into vogue; laughed at theoretical 
 works on farming, disliked machinery, expensive Presses 
 the sowing of costly grains, and as a general thing had no 
 
 p rastrt khozydin . simple proprietor, landowner, householder, etc,
 
 272 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 patience with occupying himself with only one side of farm- 
 ing. He always kept before his eyes the idea of the estate as 
 a whole, and favored no part of it to the exclusion of the 
 rest. 
 
 The chief element of success in an estate was not the azote 
 and the oxygen found in the soil and in the atmosphere, or 
 any especial form of plough or manure, but rather the principal 
 instrument by means of which the oxygen and the nitrogen 
 and the manure and the plough act, the muzhik the work- 
 ing peasant. 
 
 When Nikolai took up the care of his estate and began to 
 study the different parts of it, the muzhik especially attracted 
 his attention. The muzhik seemed to him not only a tool and 
 instrument, but the object and judge. From the very first he 
 studied the muzhik, striving to comprehend what he wanted, 
 what he considered good and bad, and only pretended to give 
 orders and lay out work, while in reality he was learning of 
 the peasants, both from their ways and their words, and their 
 judgment as to what was good or bad. 
 
 And only when at last he learned to understand the tastes 
 and aspirations of the muzhiks, learned to speak their speech, 
 and comprehend the secret significance of their sayings, when 
 he felt himself one with them, only then did he dare boldly to 
 direct them, that is, to fulfil toward them the duties which 
 were demanded of him. 
 
 And Nikolai's management* brought about the most bril- 
 liant results. 
 
 When he undertook the management of the estate, Nikolai 
 at once unerringly, by some gift of second sight, appointed as 
 burmistr, or village bailiff, or as starosta, or as the peasant 
 delegate, the very men who would have been chosen by the 
 muzhiks themselves, if the choice had been in their hands, 
 and his appointees were never changed. 
 
 Before he made investigations into the chemical properties 
 of manures, before he entered into the question of " debit and 
 credit," as he laughingly termed it, he learned about the num- 
 ber of cattle that the peasants had, and increased it by all the 
 means in his power. 
 
 He tried to keep the families of the peasants as large as 
 possible, not permitting them to break up.f He kept a strict 
 
 * Khozydistvo. 
 
 t The communal system of Russia is patriarchal, the head of the family 
 having control of all the sons and daughters, married and single, living un- 
 der his roof.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 273 
 
 oversight upon the lazy, the dissolute, and the feeble, and 
 tried to rid the community of such. During seed-time and 
 hay-making and harvest, he gave the same careful attention 
 to his own fields and those of his muzhiks. And few propri- 
 etors got their seed in so early or averaged such good crops as 
 
 He HkeVnot to have anything to do with the dvorovuie or 
 domestic serfs, called them drones, and, as every one said, paid 
 no heed to them, and thus spoiled them ; when it was neces- 
 sary to do anything, or m'ake any disposition concerning a 
 domestic serf, especially when it was necessary to punish one, 
 he was always undecided, and had to ask the opinion of all m 
 the house ; only when it was possible to send a domestic ser 
 as a soldier in place of a muzhik, he would do so without the 
 slightest hesitation. 
 
 But in regard to all the dispositions which he had to make 
 concerning the muzhiks, he never experienced the slightest 
 hesitancy. He knew that any disposition that he might make 
 concerning the muzhiks would be approved by all excepting 
 perhaps one or a very few. . 
 
 ' Likewise, he never allowed himself to overwork or punish a 
 field hand out of any personal whim or caprice, or would he 
 ease a man's labors or reward him simply because such a 
 thing constituted his personal desire. He could not have said 
 where he got his rule of what was wise and what was unwise ; 
 but this rule was firm and inflexible in his heart. 
 
 Yet often, in vexation at some failure or disorder, he would 
 exclaim : " With this Russian people of ours ! " and try to argue 
 to his own satisfaction that he could not put up with the 
 
 B1 But with all the strength of his heart he loved "this Rus- 
 sian people of ours," and their ways, and this reason alone 
 made him appreciate and adopt the only way and method ot 
 managing his estate which could bring him in good results. 
 
 The Countess Mariya was jealous of her husband because ot 
 this love of his, and regretted that she could not share in it ; 
 but she could not understand the joys and annoyances which, 
 for him, constituted this world so foreign and apart from her 
 own. She could not understand why he should be so pecul- 
 iarly animated and happy, when, having arisen with the 
 dawn and spent the whole morning in the field or the thresh- 
 ing-floor, he came back from the sowing, the mowing, or the 
 harvest, to drink tea with her. 
 
 She could not understand what should so kindle Jus entnu. 
 
 VOL. 4. 18.
 
 274 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 siasm as he told of the wealthy and enterprising muzhik 
 Matvyei Yermishin, who had spent the whole night with his 
 family in carrying sheaves, and who had his corn-stacks 
 all made up, while as yet the others had not touched 
 theirs. 
 
 She could not understand why he was so glad, and smiled so 
 radiantly, and winked, as he came from the window out upon 
 the balcony, while the dense, warm rain fell upon the dry and 
 thirsty young oats, or why, when during hay -making or har- 
 vest time the wind drove away the threatening clouds, he 
 would come in from the threshing-floor flushed, sunburnt, and 
 sweaty, and with the scent of wormwood and wild gentian in 
 his hair, and, gayly rubbing his hands, exclaim : " Well, now, 
 one more short day, and my grain and the peasants' will all 
 be threshed." 
 
 Still less was she able to understand why he, with his kind- 
 ness of heart, with his never-failing readiness to anticipate 
 her desires, was almost in despair when she presented to him 
 petitions from peasant women or muzhiks who had applied to 
 her for relief from some drudgery or other, why he, this good 
 Nicolas, was so obstinate in refusing to do so, and begged her 
 sternly not to interfere in what was not her business. She felt 
 that he had a special world of his own which he passionately 
 loved, and which was governed by laws she could not under- 
 stand. 
 
 When, sometimes, in her endeavors to understand him, she 
 would speak to him of the service he was rendering in doing 
 so much good to his dependants, he lost his temper and re- 
 plied : " Not in the least ; it never entered my head, and I am 
 not doing anything for their good. That is all poetry and old 
 woman's tales, all this talk about kindness to one's neighbor. 
 What I want is, that our children should not become beggars ; 
 what I want is, to get our property on a satisfactory basis 
 while I am alive : that is all. And to do that, order is neces- 
 sary, and so is sternness. That's all there is of it," said he, 
 clinching his sanguine fist " and justice," he added. "Be- 
 cause if the peasant is naked and hungry, and has only one 
 little horse, then he will work neither for himself nor 
 for me." 
 
 And there can be no doubt that for the very reason that 
 Nikolai allowed himself not to think that he was doing any- 
 thing for others, in the way of a benefactor, that all he did 
 was so abundantly successful j his property quickly multi- 
 plied ; neighboring muzhiks came to him and begged him to
 
 WAR AND PLACE. 275 
 
 buy them, and, long after he was dead and gone, a devout 
 memory of his regime obtained among the peasantry. 
 
 " He was a manager.* He looked after his peasants affairs 
 first, and then his own. And he did not show too much indul- 
 gence either. In one word, he was a manager/' 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 ONE thing sometimes troubled Nikolai in relation to his ad- 
 ministration of affairs, and this was his quick temper and a' 
 propensity, which was a relic of his old life as a hussar, to 
 make use of his fists. At first, he saw nothing reprehensible 
 in this ; but in the second year of his married life his views in 
 regard to this form of inflicting punishment underwent a 
 sudden change. 
 
 One time during the summer the starosta of Bogucnarovo, 
 the successor of Dron, who was now dead, was summoned over 
 to Luisiya Gorui charged with various rascalities and villa- 
 nies. Nikolai met him on the porch, and at his first reply the 
 sounds of cries and blows rang through the vestibule. 
 
 On going into the house for breakfast, Nikolai joined his 
 wife, who was sitting with her head bent low over her em- 
 broidery frame, and began to tell her, as his wont was, about 
 all that occupied him that morning, and, among other things, 
 about the starosta of Bogucharovo. The Countess Mariya, 
 turning red, then pale, and compressing her lips, sat with her 
 head still bent, and made no reply to her husband's words. 
 
 " Such an impertinent scoundrel ! " exclaimed he, growing 
 hot at the mere recollection. " If he had only told me that 
 he was drunk I never saw but what is the matter, 
 Marie ? " he suddenly asked. 
 
 The countess raised her head and tried to say something, 
 but again hastily drooped her head, and compressed her lips. 
 
 "What is it ? What is the matter, my darling ? " 
 
 Plain as the Countess Mariya was, she always grew pretty 
 when tears were in her eyes. She never wept because of pain 
 or annoyance, but always from melancholy and pity. And 
 when she wept her liquid eyes acquired an irresistible charm. 
 
 The moment Nikolai took her by the hand, she could no 
 longer restrain herself, but burst into tears. 
 
 "Nicolas, I saw he is at fault, but, oh, Nicolas, why did 
 you ? " And she hid her face in her hands. 
 
 * Khozydin.}
 
 276 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 Nikolai turned crimson, made no reply, and, turning away 
 from her, began to pace up and down the room. He under- 
 stood what made her weep ; but suddenly he found that he 
 could not agree with her in his heart, that what he had been 
 used to looking upon since childhood as a customary thing 
 was wrong. 
 
 "Is it her amiability and feminine weakness, or is she 
 right ? " he asked himself. Not being able to decide this 
 question for himself, he once more looked into her suffering, 
 loving face, and suddenly realized that she was right, and that 
 he had been wrong even in his own eyes for a long time. 
 
 "Marie," said he gently, and he came to her, "this shall 
 never happen again ; I give you my word. Never ! " he re- 
 peated, in a trembling voice like a lad asking forgiveness. 
 
 The tears rolled faster than ever from the countess's eyes. 
 She took her husband's hand and kissed it. 
 
 " Nicolas, when did you break your cameo ? " she asked, 
 for the purpose of changing the conversation, and examining 
 his hand, on which he wore a ring with a Laokoon's head. 
 
 " To-day ; it's all the same story. Akh ! Marie, don't speak 
 of it again." He flushed once more. " I give thee my word 
 of honor that this sha'n't happen again. And let this always 
 be a reminder to me," he added, pointing to the broken ring. 
 
 From that time forth, when he had to enter into explana- 
 tions with the starostas or overseers, and the hot blood flew 
 into his face, and he began to clinch his fists, Nikolai would 
 turn the broken ring round on his finger and drop his eyes 
 before the man who was angering him. However, once or 
 twice a year, he would forget himself, and then, when he came 
 into his wife's presence, he would confess, and again give his 
 promise that it should be the last time. 
 
 " Marie, truly you will despise me," he would say to her. 
 " I deserve it." 
 
 " You should go away, go away as fast as you can if you 
 find that you have not the strength of mind to restrain your- 
 self," said the Countess Mariya, in a tender voice, trying to 
 console her husband. 
 
 Nikolai was respected but not liked among the gentry of 
 the province. He did not care about the interests of the 
 nobility. And on this account some considered him proud ; 
 others, stupid. 
 
 During the summer, he spent all his time in the manage- 
 ment of his farms, from the hour that the seed was put in 
 until the crops were garnered.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 277 
 
 
 
 During the autumn, he gave himself up to hunting with the 
 same practical seriousness which he showed in the care of his 
 estates, and, for a month or two, he would ride out with the 
 hounds. 
 
 During the wnter, he rode off to visit his other villages, 
 and occupied himself with reading. His reading consisted, 
 principally, of historical works, for the purchase of which he 
 spent a certain amount each year. He was forming for him- 
 self, as he said, a " serious library," and he made it a rule to 
 read through every book which he purchased. 
 
 With a grave face, he would shut himself up in his library 
 for this reading, which, at first, he imposed upon himself as a 
 duty ; but in time it came to be his ordinary occupation, fur- 
 nishing him with a certain kind of satisfaction, and the con- 
 sciousness that he was occupied with a serious task. 
 
 Except for the time that he spent out of doors, in the pros- 
 ecution of his affairs, during the winter he was mostly in the 
 house, entering into the domestic life of the family, and tak- 
 ing an interest in the little relations between the mother and 
 children. He kept growing closer and closer to his wife, each 
 day discovering in her new spiritual treasures. 
 
 Sonya, since the time of Nikolai's marriage, had been an 
 inmate of his house. Some time before his marriage, Nikolai, 
 laying all blame on himself, and praising her, had told the 
 Princess Mariya what had occurred between him and Sonya. 
 He had begged the Princess Mariya to be kind and good to 
 his cousin. The Countess Mariya fully realized her husband's 
 fault. She also felt that she was to blame toward Sonya ; she 
 realized that her own position had influenced Nikolai's choice, 
 and she could not see that Sonya was in any way blameworthy, 
 and she wanted to love her ; but not only did she not love 
 her, but often found bitter feelings against her arising in her 
 soul, and she could not overcome them. 
 
 One time she was talking with her friend Natasha about 
 Sonya and about her own injustice toward her. 
 
 " Do you know," said Natasha, " you have read the New 
 Testament a great deal, there is one place that refers directly 
 to Sonya." 
 
 " What is that ? " asked the Countess Mariya, in amazement. 
 
 " ' For unto every one that hath shall be given, but from him 
 that hath not shall be taken away even that which he hath.' Do 
 you remember ? She is the one that hath not. Why, I do not 
 know ; it seems to me she has no selfishness about her. \ 
 don't know, somehow, but it is taken away from her every-
 
 278 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 thing has been taken away from her. I am terribly sorry for 
 her sometimes ; I used to be terribly anxious for Nicolas to 
 marry her, but I always had a sort of presentiment that it 
 would never be. She is a sterile flower ; you have seen them 
 in the strawberry patch, haven't you ? Sometimes I am sorry 
 for her, but then, again, I think that she doesn't feel it as we 
 should." 
 
 And although the Countess Mariya explained to Natasha 
 that these words from the Gospel must have a different mean- 
 ing, still, as she looked at Sonya, she agreed with the expla- 
 nation which Natasha gave to them. 
 
 It really seemed to her that Sonya was not troubled by her 
 uncomfortable position, and was perfectly satisfied with her 
 name of " sterile flower." 
 
 It seemed that she did not so much care for any special 
 individual as for the family as a whole. Like a cat, she at- 
 tached herself, not to the household so much as to the house 
 itself. She took care of the old countess, she petted and 
 spoiled the children, was always ready to show such little 
 services as she could ; but all this was accepted unwittingly, 
 without any special sense of gratitude. 
 
 The establishment at Luisiya Gorui had now been restored 
 to good order, but not on the same footing as it had been dur- 
 ing the late prince's lifetime. The new buildings, begun dur- 
 ing the hard times, were more than simple. The enormous 
 mansion-house, erected on the original stone foundations, was 
 of wood, merely plastered on the inside. The great, spacious 
 mansion, with its unpainted deal floors, was furnished with 
 the most simple and coarse sofas and easy-chairs, tables and 
 chairs made from their own lumber by their own carpenters. 
 The house was capacious, with rooms for the domestics, and 
 special suites for guests. 
 
 The relatives of the Rostofs and Bolkonskys oftentimes 
 came to visit at Luisiya Gorui with their families and almost 
 a score of horses, with dozens of servants, and would spend 
 months there. Moreover, three or four times a year, on the 
 name-day or birthday festivals of the host and hostess, a hun- 
 dred guests would be present at once for several days. 
 
 The rest of the year the regular life moved in its regular 
 channels with the usual occupations teas, breakfasts, din- 
 ners, suppers, supplied from the resources of the estate.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 279 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 IT was the eve of St. Nicholas Day, in the winter * the 
 seventeenth of December, 1820. 
 
 That year Natasha with her children and husband had come 
 early in the autumn to visit her brother. Pierre was in Peters- 
 burg, where he had gone on private business for three or four 
 weeks, as he said, but where he had already spent seven. They 
 were expecting him at any moment. 
 
 On the seventeenth of December the E-ostofs had, besides 
 the Bezukhoi family, Nikolai's old friend, General Vasili 
 Feodorovitch Denisof, who was now on the retired list. 
 
 On the eighteenth, the day of the name-day celebration for 
 which the guests had assembled, Nikolai knew that he should 
 have to take off his beshmet or Tatar blouse, put on his 
 dress-coat and tight, narrow-toed shoes, and go to the new 
 church which he had just built, and then receive congratula- 
 tions and offer lunch, and talk about the elections and the 
 crops ; but he felt that on the eve of his name-day he had the 
 right to spend his time in the usual way. 
 
 Just before dinner Nikolai had been verifying the accounts 
 of the burmistr from the Riazan estate of his wife's nephew, 
 had written two business letters, and had made the round of 
 the granaries, the cattle-yard, and his stables. Having taken 
 precautions against the general drunkenness which was to be 
 expected on the morrow in consequence of it being a capital 
 festival, he came in to dinner, and, without having had a 
 chance for a few moments of private conversation with his 
 wife, he took his seat at the long table set with twenty covers 
 for his whole household. 
 
 At the table were his mother, the old Mrs. Byelova, who 
 still lived with her, his wife, his three children, their gov- 
 erness, their tutor, his nephew with his tutor, Sonya, Denisof, 
 Natasha, her three children, their governess, and the little 
 old Mikhail Ivanuitch, the prince's architect, who lived at 
 Luisiya Gorui on a pension. 
 
 The Countess Mariya was sitting at the opposite end of the 
 table. As soon as her husband took his place she knew by 
 the gesture with which he took his napkin and quickly pushed 
 
 * Nikdla zimnii (as the peasants call it) comes Dec. 5, O. S.,in contradis- 
 tinction to Nikola lye'tnii or St. Nicholas Day in the summer, the 9th (21st) 
 May.
 
 280 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 away the tumbler and wine-glass that were set before him, 
 that he was in bad humor, as was apt to be the case with 
 him especially before soup, and when he came directly from 
 his work to dinner. 
 
 The Countess Mariya knew perfectly well this disposition 
 of his, and, when she herself was in her usual good spirits, 
 she calmly waited until he should have finished his so'up, and 
 not till then would she begin to talk with him and make him 
 realize that his ill-temper was groundless 5 but on the present 
 occasion she had entirely forgotten this observation of hers ; 
 it hurt her to feel that he was angry with her without cause, 
 and she felt that she was innocent. 
 
 She asked him where he had been. 
 
 He told her. 
 
 Then again she asked him if he found everything in good 
 order. He scowled disagreeably at her unnatural tone ; and 
 answered hastily. 
 
 " So I was not mistaken," thought the Countess Mariya, 
 " Now, why is he vexed with me ? " 
 
 By the tone in which he answered her the Countess Mariya 
 detected what she thought was ill will toward herself, and a 
 wish to cut short the conversation. She realized that her 
 own words had been unnatural, but she could not refrain from 
 asking several other questions. 
 
 The conversation during dinner, thanks to Denisof, quickly 
 became general and animated, and the Countess Mariya had 
 no chance to say anything to her husband. When they left 
 the table and went to thank the old countess, the Countess 
 Mariya held out her hand and kissed her husband and asked 
 him why he was vexed with her. 
 
 " You always have such strange ideas ! I had no thought 
 of being vexed with you," said he. But this word always 
 said with sufficient clearness to the Countess Mariya : " Yes, 
 I am angry and I won't tell you." 
 
 Nikolai lived so harmoniously with his wife that even 
 Sonya and the old countess, who out of jealousy might have 
 been happy to see some discord between them, could not find 
 any excuse for reproach ; but still they had their moments of 
 hostility. Sometimes, especially after their happiest times, 
 they were suddenly assailed by the feeling of repulsion and 
 animosity ; this feeling was particularly liable to occur when 
 the Countess Mariya was with child. She was now in this 
 condition. 
 
 "Well, messieurs et mesdames," said Nikolai, in a loud and
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 281 
 
 apparently gay tone, it seemed to the Countess Mariya that 
 it was on purpose to hurt her feelings, "I have been on my 
 feet ever since six o'clock. To-morrow I shall have to endure 
 a good deal, and now I'm going to rest." 
 
 And, without saying anything more to the Countess Mariya, 
 he went into the little divan-room and lay down on the sofa. 
 
 "That's the way it always is," thought the Countess 
 Mariya. " He talks with all the rest, but not with me. I 
 see, I see that I am antipathetic, especially when I am in 
 this condition." 
 
 She looked at her changed figure, and caught sight in the 
 mirror of her yellowish pale, thin face, with her eyes more 
 prominent than ever. 
 
 And everything seemed disagreeable to her- Demsofs 
 shouts and laughter, and Natasha's talk, and especially the 
 look which Sonya hastily threw after her. 
 
 Sonya was always the first pretext which the Countess 
 Mariya took to excuse her irritation. 
 
 After sitting down for a little with her guests, and not 
 comprehending a word of what they said, she softly got up 
 and went to the nursery. 
 
 The children were on chairs, " going to Moscow," and they 
 begged her to join them. She sat down and played with 
 them, but the thought of her husband and his causeless vexa- 
 tion tormented her without ceasing. She got up and went to 
 the little divan-room, painfully trying to walk on her tiptoes. 
 
 " Perhaps he is not asleep ; I will have a talk with him," 
 said she to herself. 
 
 Andryusha, her oldest boy, imitating her, followed her on 
 his tiptoes. The Countess Mariya did not notice him. 
 
 " Chere Marie, il dort,je crois ; il est si fatigue," said Sonya 
 from the large divan-room ; it seemed to the countess as if 
 she met her everywhere ! " Andryusha might wake him." 
 
 The Countess Mariya looked round, saw Andryusha at her 
 heels, and felt that Sonya was right: this very thing made 
 her angry, and it was evidently with difficulty that she 
 restrained herself from a sharp reply. 
 
 She said nothing, and, affecting not to have heard her, she 
 made a gesture with her hand to Andryusha not to make a 
 noise, but to follow her, and went to the door. 
 Sonya passed through another door. 
 
 From the room where Nikolai was sleeping could be heard 
 his measured breathing, so well known to his wife, even to its 
 slightest shadow of change.
 
 282 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 As she listened to his breathing she could see before her 
 his smooth, handsome brow, his mustache, his whole face, at 
 which so often she had gazed in the silence of the night, while 
 he was asleep. 
 
 Nikolai suddenly started and yawned. And at that same 
 instant Andryusha cried from the door, 
 
 " Papenka, mamenka is there ! " 
 
 The Countess Mariya grew pale with fright, and started to 
 make signs to her son. He became still, and for an instant 
 the silence, so terrible to the Countess Mariya, continued. 
 She knew how Nikolai disliked being awakened. 
 
 Suddenly in the room were heard fresh yawns, rustling, and 
 Nikolai's dissatisfied voice said, 
 
 " Can't I have a moment's rest ! Marie, is it you ? What 
 made you bring him here ? " 
 
 " I only came to see if I did not see him forgive 
 me" 
 
 Nikolai coughed, and said nothing more. The Countess 
 Mariya went away from the door, and led her son to the 
 nursery. 
 
 Five minutes later, the little, dark-eyed, three-year-old 
 Natasha, her father's favorite, learning that her papenka was 
 asleep and her mdmenka in the divan-room, ran to her father 
 unobserved by her mother. The dark-eyed little maid boldly 
 pushed the door open with a slam, ran on her energetic little 
 stumpy legs up to the sofa, and, after attentively looking at 
 her father, who was lying with his back turned towards her, 
 she raised herself on her tiptoes and kissed his hand, on which 
 his head was resting. Nikolai, with a fond smile, turned over. 
 
 " Natasha ! Natasha!" the Countess Mariya was heard say- 
 ing in a terrified whisper outside the door, " papenka wants 
 to get a nap." 
 
 " No, mamma ! he doesn't want a nap," replied the little 
 Natasha, in a tone of settled conviction. " He's laughing." 
 
 Nikolai put down his feet, sat up, and took his daughter in 
 his arms. " Come in, Masha," said he to his wife. 
 
 The Countess Mariya went in and sat down near her hus- 
 band. 
 
 " I did not see that he was tagging behind me," said she 
 timidly. "That's the way with me." 
 
 Nikolai, holding his daughter in one arm, looked at his wife, 
 and, perceiving the apologetic expression in her face, he put 
 his other arm around her and kissed her on the hair. 
 
 " May I kiss mamma ? " he asked Natasha.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 283 
 
 % 
 
 Natasha smiled shyly. 
 
 "Again !" said she, with an imperative gesture designating 
 the spot where Nikolai should kiss his wife. 
 
 " I don't know why you should think that I am out of sorts, 
 said Nikolai, answering the question which he knew was in 
 his wife's heart. 
 
 "You cannot imagine how unhappy, how lonely 1 am, 
 when you are so ! It seems to me all the time " 
 
 " Marie, stop ! What nonsense ! Aren't you ashamed of 
 yourself ? " he asked gayly. . 
 
 " It seems to me that you cannot love me, that I am so plain 
 always but now in this con " 
 
 " Akh ! how absurd you are ! Beauty does not make sweet- 
 ness, but sweetness makes beauty ! It is only such women as the 
 Malvinas who are loved for their beauty. Do I love my wife ? 
 I don't love her in that way but I can't explain it. With- 
 out thee or even if a cat should run between us, I should be 
 quite lost and shouldn't know what to do. Well, then, do I 
 love my little finger ? I don't love it, but just try it cut 
 
 it off" 
 
 No, Fm not like that, but I understand you. And so you 
 
 are not vexed with me ? " 
 
 "Oh, yes, I am horribly vexed," said he, smiling; then 
 getting up and smoothing his hair, he began to pace up and 
 down the room. "You know what I was thinking about, he 
 began, now that peace had been made, immediately beginning 
 to think aloud in his wife's hearing. He did not ask whether 
 she were ready to listen to him ; it was all the same to him. 
 If he had any thoughts she must have the same. And he told 
 tier his intention of inviting Pierre to remain with them till 
 spring. 
 
 The Countess Mariya listened to him, made some observa- 
 tion, and began in her turn to think her thoughts aloud. Her 
 thoughts were about her children. 
 
 " How the woman can be seen in her already ! " said she in 
 French, alluding to the little Natasha. " You accuse us women 
 of being illogical. Well, there she is she illustrates our 
 logic. I say, ' Papa wants to get a nap,' but she says, ' No, he 
 is laughing.' And she is right," said the Countess Mariya, 
 with a happy smile. 
 
 "Yes, yes," and, taking his daughter by his strong hands, he 
 lifted her up in the air, set her on his shoulder, holding her 
 by the feet, and began to walk up and down the room with 
 her. The faces of father and daughter alike expressed the 
 most absurd happiness.
 
 284 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 " But you are apt to be partial. You love this one more 
 than the others," whispered the Countess Mariya in French. 
 
 " But how can I help it ? I try not to show it." 
 
 At this instant sounds of slamming doors and steps were 
 heard in the vestibule and anteroom, as though there was an 
 arrival. 
 
 " Some one has come." 
 
 " I think it must be Pierre. I'll go and find out," said the 
 Countess Mariya, and she left the room. 
 
 During her absence Nikolai permitted himself to give his 
 little daughter a gallop around the room. 
 
 All out of breath, he quickly set down the laughing child 
 and pressed her to his heart. His gambols reminded him of 
 dancing, and, as he gazed into the little maid's round, radiant 
 face, he thought of the future, when he should be a nice old 
 man and lead her out and dance the mazurka with her, as his 
 own father had once danced Daniel Cooper with his daughter. 
 
 " Yes, 'tis he, 'tis he, Nicolas," said the Countess Mariya, 
 returning to the room after a few minutes. " Now our Natasha 
 has got back her spirits. You ought to see how happy she is ! 
 and how he caught it for having staid so long ! But come, 
 let us go and see him, come ! Do let him go," said she, look- 
 ing with a smile at her daughter, who clung to her father. 
 
 Nikolai started off, holding the little girl by the hand. 
 
 The Countess Mariya remained in the divan-room. 
 
 " Never, never, would I believe that I could be so happy," 
 she whispered to herself. Her face was radiant with a smile ; 
 but at the same time she sighed, and a gentle melancholy 
 showed itself in her deep eyes. It was as though over and 
 above that happiness which she now experienced there were 
 another kind of happiness, unattainable in this life, and she at 
 that moment involuntarily remembered it. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 NATASHA had been married in the early spring of 1813, and 
 in 1820 she had already three daughters and one son the 
 child of her desires, whom she was now suckling. 
 
 She had grown plump and fleshy, so that it would have been 
 difficult to recognize in the strong matron the slender, viva- 
 cious Natasha of yore. The features of her face had grown 
 more marked, and bore an expression of sedate gentleness and 
 serenity. Her face had lost all of that ever flashing light of
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 285 
 
 animation which' had formerly constituted her chief charm. 
 Now it was often merely her face and her bodily presence 
 that was seen, without anything of the animating soul. It 
 was only a healthy, handsome, fruitful female. 
 
 It was very rarely now that the old fire flashed forth. Inis 
 happened at times when, as now, her husband returned from a 
 journey, or when a child was recovering, or when she and the 
 Countess Mariya talked over old memories of Prince Andrei 
 (she never talked about him with her husband, imagining that 
 he might be moved by some jealousy of such memories), and 
 at the very rare times when something enticed her to sing, 
 though, since her marriage, she had entirely abandoned this 
 accomplishment. And at these rare moments, when the old 
 fire flashed forth, she, with the beauty of her mature develop- 
 ment, was even more fascinating than before. 
 
 Since the time of her marriage, Natasha and Pierre had 
 lived off and on at Moscow, at Petersburg, and their Pod-Mos- 
 kovnaya estate, and with her mother, or rather with Nikolai. 
 
 The young Countess Bezukhaya was seen little in fashion- 
 able society, and those who met her were not attracted by her. 
 She was neither genial nor careful of pleasing. It was not 
 that she liked solitude she knew not whether she liked it 
 or not, it even seemed to her that she did not but while en- 
 gaged in the bearing and nursing and rearing of children, 
 and sharing in each moment of her husband's life, she could 
 not satisfy these demands otherwise than by denying herself 
 
 society. 
 
 All who had known Natasha before her marriage were amazed 
 at the change that had taken place in her, as though it were 
 something extraordinary. Only the old countess, who knew 
 by her maternal insight that all Natasha's impulses of enthu- 
 siasm had their origin merely in the need of having a family, 
 of having a husband, as she had cried more in earnest than in 
 jest that winter at Otradnoye. The mother was amazed at the 
 amazement of people who did not understand Natasha, and she 
 insisted that she had always known that Natasha would be a 
 model wife and mother. 
 
 "Only she carries her love for her husband and children to 
 extremes," the countess would say, " so that it even seems 
 stupid in her." 
 
 Natasha did not follow that golden rule preached by clever 
 men, especially the French, to this effect, that when a young 
 lady marries she must not neglect, must not abandon her tal- 
 ents, must even more zealously than when she was a girl cul-
 
 286 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 tivate her personal adornment, must charm her husband as 
 much after as she did before marriage. 
 
 Natasha, on the contrary, abandoned all at once all her 
 accomplishments, even the one that was most of an accom- 
 plishment her singing. She abandoned it for the very 
 reason that it was an accomplishment. 
 
 Natasha took no pains either with her deportment or the 
 elegance of her language, nor did she try' to give herself 
 graces before her husband, or think about her toilet, or dream 
 of not imposing irksome exactions upon her husband. 
 
 She proceeded in direct opposition to this rule. 
 
 She felt that those witcheries which instinct had taught her 
 to employ before would now be absurd in the eyes of her hus- 
 band, to whom she had surrendered entirely from the first 
 minute that is, with her whole soul, not leaving one single 
 corner secret from him. She felt that the bond between her 
 and her husband was held not by those poetic feelings which 
 had attracted him to her, but by something else, vague and 
 undefined, but irresistible, like the union of her own soul and 
 body. 
 
 To shake her curls, to put on robronui* and to sing ro- 
 mances in order to attract her husband to her, would have 
 seemed to her as ridiculous as to adorn herself for the purpose 
 of giving herself pleasure. 
 
 To adorn herself to please others, possibly, might have been 
 pleasing to her she knew not but she never did such a 
 thing. The chief reason that she did not indulge in singing 
 or the witcheries of the toilet, or in using elegant language, 
 was that she had absolutely no time to indulge herself in 
 these things. 
 
 It is a fact that man has the capaciey of completely im- 
 mersing himself in any object, no matter how insignificant that 
 object may be. And it is a fact that any such object, however 
 insignificant, may expand into infinite proportions, through 
 concentrating the attention upon it. 
 
 The object in which Natasha was absolutely absorbed was 
 her family, that is to say, her husband, whom she had to hold 
 so that he would cling to her and his home, and her children, 
 who had to be born, nursed, and reared. 
 
 And the more she studied, not with her intellect but with 
 
 her whole soul, her whole being, into this object which absorbed 
 
 her, the more this object waxed in her estimation, and the 
 
 weaker and more insignificant seemed to her her own powers, 
 
 * French, robe ronde, a kind of dress, fashionable many years ago.
 
 t AND PEACE. 287 
 
 so that she concentrated them on one and the same thing, and 
 still did not succeed in accomplishing what seemed to her so 
 necessary. 
 
 The discussions and criticisms on the rights of women, on 
 the relations of marriage, on the liberty and the rights of hus- 
 band and wife, although at that period they had not yet begun 
 to be called questions, were nevertheless just the same as they 
 are at the present time ; but not only did these questions not 
 interest Natasha, but she really failed to understand them. 
 
 These questions, even then just the same as at the present 
 time, existed only for those who looked for nothing but that 
 sensual gratification in marriage which husband and wife afford 
 each other: that is, merely the beginning of marriage, and not 
 its whole significance the family. 
 
 These arguments and the present-day questions are analo- 
 gous to the question how can one get the most possible enjoy- 
 ment from dinner ? and at that time did not exist any more 
 than they do now for men whose object in eating dinner is 
 nourishment, and in marriage is raising a family. 
 
 If the object of eating dinner is the nourishment of the 
 body, then the person who should eat two dinners at a sitting 
 would perchance attain great enjoyment, but would not attain 
 his object, since his stomach would not digest the two dinners. 
 
 If the object of marriage is a family, then the person who 
 should wish many wives (or husbands) would perhaps get 
 much enjoyment, but would not in any case be likely to have 
 a family. 
 
 The whole question, provided the object of a dinner is 
 nourishment, and the object of marriage is a family, is settled 
 simply by not eating more than the stomach can digest, and 
 by a person not having more husbands or wives than are neces- 
 sary for a family ; that is, one. 
 
 Natasha wanted a husband. The husband was given to her. 
 And the husband gave her the family. And she not only saw 
 no need of any better husband, but, since all the energies of 
 her soul were directed toward serving her husband and family, 
 she could not imagine, and saw no possible amusement in 
 imagining, what would have been if things had been otherwise. 
 
 Natasha cared not for society in general, but she clung all 
 the more to the society of her relatives the Countess Ma- 
 riya, her brother, her mother, and Sonya. 
 
 She took delight in the society of those whom she could 
 run in to see, with unkempt hair, in her morning gown, right 
 from the nursery, with happy face, to show them the yellow
 
 288 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 instead of green stain on the baby linen, and to hear the 
 comforting words that now the baby would soon be much 
 better. 
 
 Natasha was so neglectful of herself that her dresses, her 
 mode of doing up her hair, her carelessly spoken words, her 
 jealousy, she was jealous of Sonya, of the governess, of 
 every woman, whether pretty or plain, were a common 
 subject for amusement for the whole family. 
 
 The general impression was that Pierre was "under his 
 wife's slipper," as the saying goes, and this was really so. 
 
 During the very first days of her married life, Natasha laid 
 down her demands. Pierre was greatly amazed at this idea 
 of his wife's, which was so absolutely new to him : she in- 
 sisted that every minute of his life belonged to her and his 
 children ; Pierre was amazed at his wife's demand, but he 
 was flattered by it and submitted to it. 
 
 Pierre's submission lay in his acceptance of the implied 
 prohibition of not merely paying attentions to other women, 
 but even of talking and laughing with them, of going to the 
 club to dinner or for the purpose of merely passing away 
 the time, of spending his money on whims, or taking long 
 journeys except on business, and in this category his wife 
 included his interest in scientific pursuits, to which she at- 
 tributed great importance, though she had no understanding 
 of such things. 
 
 In return for this, Pierre had a perfect right to dispose of 
 himself and his whole family as he might please : Natasha, 
 in her own home, placed herself on the footing of a slave 
 toward her husband, and the whole house went on tiptoes 
 when he was busy reading or writing in his library. Pierre 
 had only to manifest any desire, and his wish would be 
 instantly fulfilled. He had only to express a desire, and 
 Natasha would make haste to have it carried out. 
 
 The whole house was conducted according to the husband's 
 supposititious commands, in other words in accordance with 
 Pierre's wishes, which Natasha tried to anticipate. The 
 style, the place of living, their acquaintances, their inter- 
 course with society, Natasha's occupations, the education of 
 their children, everything was done not merely in accord- 
 ance with Pierre's expressed will, but Natasha strove to find 
 out what would elicit hints of his ideas when he was talking. 
 And she actually discovered what constituted the essence of 
 Pierre's desires, and when she thus did, she firmly clung to 
 what she had once adopted. When Pierre himself showed!
 
 * WAR AND PEACE. 289 
 
 
 
 signs of changing his mind, she would turn his own weapons 
 against him. 
 
 Thus, during the trying time, which Pierre never forgot, 
 after the birth of their first child, which was ailing, and they 
 were obliged three times to change wet nurses, and Natasha 
 fell ill from anxiety, Pierre one time told her of the ideas of 
 Rousseau, with whom he was always in perfect -concord, as to 
 the unnaturalness and harmfulness of wet nurses. 
 
 When the next child was born, Natasha, in spite of the 
 opposition of her mother, the doctors, and her husband him- 
 self, who revolted against her suckling the child, as at that 
 time something unheard-of and harmful, she insisted on 
 doing so, and from that time forth she always nursed all her 
 children. 
 
 Very often, in moments of irritation, it would happen that 
 husband and wife would have animated discussions ; but long 
 after the quarrel was forgotten, Pierre would find, to his joy 
 and amazement, not only in what his wife said but in what 
 she did, his own ideas, against which she had rebelled. And 
 not only would he find his own idea, but find it purified of 
 everything superfluous that had been elicited by the excite- 
 ment of the argument. 
 
 After seven years of married life, Pierre felt a joyous, 
 settled consciousness that he was not a bad man, and -this 
 consciousness arose from the fact that he saw himself re- 
 flected in his wife. In himself he felt that all that was good 
 and bad was mixed together and confused. But, in his wife, 
 only that which was truly good found expression; all that 
 was not absolutely good was purged away in her. And this 
 reflection resulted not along the line of logical thought, but 
 from another mysterious, proximate reflection. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 PIERRE, two months before, while he was still visiting the 
 Eostofs, received a letter from Prince Feodor, urging him to 
 come to Petersburg to help decide some weighty questions 
 that were agitating the members of a society of which Pierre 
 was one of the most influential members. 
 
 On reading this letter, Natasha, for she always read her 
 husband's letters, hard as it was for her to bear her hus- 
 band's absence, herself was the first to urge him to go to 
 Petersburg. Every intellectual, abstract interest of her hus* 
 VOL.4. 19.
 
 290 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 band's she considered of immense importance, even though 
 she did not understand it, and she was constantly afraid of 
 being a hinderance to this activity of her husband's. In reply 
 to Pierre's timid, questioning look, on reading this letter, she 
 begged him to go, but to make the time of his return as defi- 
 nite as possible. And leave of absence of a month was 
 given him. 
 
 After this leave of absence had expired, a fortnight before, 
 Natasha found herself in a state of constant alarm, depres- 
 sion, and irritation. 
 
 Denisof, now a general on the retired list, and greatly dis- 
 satisfied with the actual state of affairs, had been visiting at 
 the Rostofs' for the past fortnight, and looked upon Natasha 
 in amazement and grief, as upon an unlike portrait of some 
 once beloved face. Dejected, melancholy looks, haphazard 
 replies, and perpetual talk about the children, were all that 
 were left of his former enchantress. 
 
 Natasha was melancholy and irritable all the time, espe- 
 cially when her mother, her brother, Sonya, or the Countess 
 Mariya tried to excuse Pierre, and find reasons for his 
 delay. 
 
 " All nonsense, trivial nonsense," Natasha would say ; " all 
 these considerations of his, leading to nothing, and all 
 these foolish societies," she would say, in regard to those 
 very things of the immense importance of which she was 
 firmly convinced. And off she would go to the nursery to 
 nurse her only son, the little Petya. 
 
 No one could tell how consoling, how reasonable this little 
 creature of only three months was when he lay at her breast, 
 and she felt the motion of his mouth and the snuffling of his 
 little nose. This being said to her : " Thou art cross, thou art 
 jealous, thou desirest vengeance, thou hast thy fears ; but here, 
 I am he ! Oh, yes, I am he ! " And there was no answer 
 to be made. It was more than the truth ! 
 
 Natasha, during those two weeks of anxiety, went so many 
 times to her baby for consolation, she made such a to-do over 
 him, that she overfed him, and he had an ill turn. She was 
 horror-struck at his illness, and at the same time it was the 
 very thing that she needed. In caring for him, she more 
 easily endured her husband's absence. 
 
 She was nursing him when a commotion, caused by Pierre's 
 arrival, was heard ; and the nyanya, who knew how much it 
 would delight her mistress, came running in noiselessly but 
 swiftly, with a beaming face.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 "Has he come?" asked Natasha in a hurried whisper 
 afraid to move lest she should awaken the sleeping mtant. 
 
 "He's come, matushka ! " whispered the nurse. 
 
 The blood rushed into Natasha's face and her feet made an 
 involuntary movement, but it was impossible to ]ump up and 
 run The child again opened his eyes and looked up , a ; her 
 "Jut thouhere?" he seemed to say, and again smacked his 
 
 ^Cautiously withdrawing the breast, Natasha rocked him a 
 little, and then handed him to the nyanya and ran ^ swiftly to 
 the door But at the door she paused, as though her con- 
 science reproached her for having, in her joy, too hastily given 
 up the child, and she looked round. The nyanya with her 
 elbows in the air, was just putting the baby safely into its 
 
 Cr Yes, go right along, go right along, matushka, have no 
 fears, go right along whispered the nyanya, smiling with the 
 famSifrity which always exists between nurse and mistress. 
 
 And Natasha with light steps ran to the anteroom. . 
 
 Denisof, with his pipe, coming from the library into the 
 hall now for the first time recognized the Natasha of yore. 
 A brighT, gleaming light of joy poured forth in streams from 
 
 omeshe called to him as she flew along, and 
 Denisof felt that he was enthusiastic over Pierre s arrival, 
 though he had never had any great love for him. 
 
 As Natasha came running into the anteroom, she caught 
 sight of the tall form in a shuba, untying his scarf 
 
 Here he is ! Here he is ! Truly, he is here ! "she said 
 to her own heart, and, flying up to him, she threw her arms 
 around him, pressed him to herself with her head on hs 
 breast, and then, pushing him away, she gazed into Pierre s 
 frost-covered, ruddy, happy face. -"Yes, here he is I happy 
 
 ^Inf s S uddenir s he recalled all the torments of disappointed 
 expectation which she had endured during the last two weeks ; 
 the radiance of joy beaming from her face was suddenly 
 clouded; she frowned, and a stream of reproaches and bitter 
 words was poured out upon Pierre. 
 
 "Yes, it's very fine for you; you are very glad, very happy ! 
 But how is it with me ? You've had a great longing for your 
 children ! I nurse them, and the milk was spoilt because of 
 you . Petya almost died. And you are very gay yes, yoi 
 are very gay "
 
 292 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 Pierre knew that it was not his fault, because it was impos- 
 sible for him to return sooner ; he knew, that this explosion 
 of hers was unbecoming, and he knew that within two minutes 
 it would be all over ; he knew, chief of all, that he himself felt 
 gay and happy. He would have preferred to smile, but he 
 had no time to think about it. He put on a scared, timid face, 
 and stooped down to her. 
 
 " It was not in my power but how is Petya ? " 
 
 " He is all right now ! Let us go to him. But aren't you 
 ashamed ? Didn't you know how I missed you, how I was 
 tormented without you ? " 
 
 "Are you well?" 
 
 "Come, let us go, come," said she, not letting go of his 
 hand. 
 
 And they went to their rooms. 
 
 When Nikolai and his wife came to inquire after Pierre, he 
 was in the nursery and was holding on the huge palm of his 
 right hand his babe, now awake, and was tending him. A 
 jolly smile . hovered over his broad face with its toothless 
 mouth. The storm had long since passed over, and the 
 bright sun of joy shone in Natasha's face as she gazed 
 tenderly at her husband and son. 
 
 "And so you talked everything over satisfactorily with 
 Prince Feodor," Natasha was saying. 
 
 " Yes, admirably." 
 
 "Do you see, he's holding it up!" Natasha meant the 
 baby's head. " Well, how he startled me ! " 
 
 " And did you see the princess ? Is it true that she's in 
 love with that " 
 
 " Yes, you can imagine " 
 
 ^At that instant, Nikolai and the Countess Mariya came in. 
 Pierre, not putting down his little son, stooped down and 
 kissed them and replied to their questions. 
 
 But evidently, notwithstanding the much that was interest- 
 ing that they had to talk over, still the baby in its cap, with 
 its vain efforts to hold up its head, absorbed all Pierre's 
 attention. 
 
 " How sweet ! " exclaimed the Countess Mariya, looking 
 at the child and beginning to play with it. "There's one 
 thing I can't understand, Nicolas," said she, turning to her 
 husband, "and that is, why you can't appreciate the charm 
 of these marvellous little creatures." 
 
 "I don't and I can't," said Nikolai, looking at the baby 
 with indifferent eyes. " A lump of flesh. Come. Pierre."
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 293 
 
 
 
 "But really he is such an affectionate father," said the 
 Countess Mariya, apologizing for her husband. "Only at 
 that age, before they are a year old" 
 
 "No, but Pierre makes a splendid nurse," said Natasha. 
 "He says that his hand was made on purpose for a baby's 
 back. Just look ! " 
 
 "Well, not for that alone," said Pierre suddenly, with a 
 laugh, and, seizing the baby, he handed him over to the nurse. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 AT the Luiso-Gorsky home, as in every genuine family, 
 there lived together several absolutely distinct microcosms, 
 which, while each preserved its own individuality and made 
 mutual concessions, united into one harmonious whole. 
 
 Every event that happened to the household was alike glad 
 or sad alike important for all these microcosms ; but each 
 one had its own personal, independent reasons for joy or sor- 
 row at any particular event. 
 
 Thus, Pierre's coming was one of these happy, important 
 events, and it affected the members of the household in some- 
 what this way : - 
 
 The servants (who are always the most reliable judges of 
 their masters, because they judge not by words and the 
 expressions of feelings, but by actions and the manner of 
 life) were glad at Pierre's return, since they knew that when 
 he was there, the count would cease to make the tour of the 
 estate every day, and would be jollier and kinder, and still 
 more because all would receive rich presents on the holidays. 
 
 The children and governesses were delighted at Pierre's 
 return, because there was no one like Pierre to keep up the 
 general life of any occasion. He alone was able to play on 
 the harpsichord that Ecossaise his one piece ! at> which 
 they could dance, as he said, all possible dances, and then 
 besides he would probably make them, too, holiday presents. 
 
 Nikolenka, who was now a thin, sickly, intellectual lad of 
 fifteen, with curling flaxen hair and handsome eyes, was glad, 
 because " Uncle Pierre," as he called him, was the object of 
 his admiration and passionate love. No one had tried to 
 instil in the lad a special love for Pierre, and he had only 
 seen him a few times. His aunt and guardian, the Countess 
 Mariya, exerted all her energies to make Nikolenka love her 
 husband as she loved him ; and Nikolenka did love Ms uncle,
 
 294 . WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 but his love had an almost perceptible tinge of scorn in it. He 
 worshipped Pierre. He had no desire to be a hussar or a cava- 
 lier of St. George ; he preferred to be a learned, good, and intel- 
 lectual man like Pierre. In Pierre's presence, his face always 
 wore a look of radiant delight, and he flushed and choked 
 when Pierre addressed him. He never lost a word that Pierre 
 uttered ; and afterwards, when with Dessalles or even alone by 
 himself, he recalled and pondered over the meaning of every 
 word. 
 
 Pierre's past life, his misfortunes before' 1812 (concerning 
 which he had formed a vague poetic idea from hints that had 
 been dropped), his adventures in Moscow, his imprisonment, 
 Platon Karatayef (of whom he had heard from Pierre), his 
 love for Natasha (whom also the boy loved with a peculiar 
 love), and, above all, his friendship for his father, whom 
 Nikdlenka did not remember, all this made of Pierre a 
 hero and a sacred being for the boy. 
 
 From snatches of conversation concerning his father and 
 Natasha, from the emotion which Pierre always showed when 
 he spoke of the lamented prince, from the guarded tone of 
 veneration and affection with which Natasha spoke of him, 
 the lad, who was only just beginning to have an idea of love, 
 gathered that his father had loved Natasha, and in dying had 
 bequeathed her to his friend. 
 
 This father of his, whom the lad did not remember, seemed 
 to him a divinity whom it was impossible to picture to him- 
 self, and he never thought of him except with an oppression 
 of the heart and with tears of tenderness and enthusiasm. 
 
 And this boy also was glad at Pierre's return. 
 
 The guests were glad, because Pierre was always a man 
 full of life, and a bond of union in any sort of society. 
 
 The adult members of the household, to say nothing of his 
 wife, were glad of a friend who made life easier and smoother. 
 
 The old women were glad, because of the presents which he 
 brought, and principally because his coming gave Natasha 
 new life. 
 
 Pierre felt the effect upon himself of these varying views 
 of the varying microcosms, and hastened to give to each 
 what each expected. 
 
 Pierre, the most abstracted, the most forgetful of men, now, 
 by the advice of his wife, took a memorandum, and, without 
 forgetting a single item, executed the commissions of her 
 mother and brother, buying such things as the dress for 
 Byelova and toys for his nephews.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 295 
 
 When he was first married, this demand of his wife that 
 he should do all her errands and not forget a single thing 
 that he had undertaken to purchase seemed very strange to 
 him, and he was greatly amazed at her grave displeasure 
 when, on his first journey from home, he forgot absolutely every- 
 thing. But afterwards he became used to it. Knowing that 
 Natasha never ordered anything for herself, and ordered for 
 the others only when he himself suggested it, he now took a 
 boyish enjoyment, quite unexpected to himself, in these pur- 
 chases of gifts for the whole household, and he never 
 forgot anything any more. If he deserved reproaches from 
 Natasha, it was solely because he bought needless and over- 
 expensive gifts. In addition to her other deficiencies as 
 they seemed to the majority her slackness and negligence 
 qualities, as they seemed in Pierre's eyes, Natasha had also 
 that of excessive frugality. 
 
 From the time that Pierre began to live on a grand scale, 
 and his family demanded large outlays, he noticed, much to 
 his surprise, that he spent only half as much as before, and 
 that his affairs, which had been in great confusion of late, 
 especially through his wife's debts, were beginning to 
 improve. 
 
 It was cheaper to live, because his life was tied down ; 
 since the most expensive luxury consists in a style of life 
 that can at any minute be changed, Pierre no longer went into 
 this extravagance, and had no longer any wish to do so. He 
 felt that his style of life was determined now until death, 
 that to change it was not in his power, and consequently this 
 style of life was cheap. 
 
 Pierre, with a jovial, smiling face, unwrapped his purchases. 
 
 " How much do you suppose ? " he asked, as, like a shop- 
 keeper, he unwrapped a roll of cloth. 
 
 Natasha was sitting opposite him holding her oldest 
 daughter on her lap, and swiftly turning her shining eyes from 
 her husband to what he was exhibiting. 
 
 "Is that for Byelova ? Splendid!" She examined the 
 niceness of the material : 
 
 " That cost about a ruble, didn't it ? " 
 
 Pierre told her the price. 
 
 "Too dear," said Natasha. " Well, how glad the children 
 and maman will be. Only 'twas of no use to buy that for 
 me," she added, unable to restrain a smile, as she looked at a 
 gold comb set with pearls, which were just then becoming 
 fashionable.
 
 296 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 "Adele tried to dissuade me: I didn't know whether to 
 buy it or not." 
 
 "When should I wear it ? " 
 
 Natasha took it and put it in her braid. "And you 
 brought this for Mashenka : perhaps they'll wear them again. 
 Come, let us go." 
 
 And, having decided upon the disposition of the gifts, 
 they went first to the nursery, and then to the countess's 
 room. 
 
 The countess was sitting as usual with Byelova, playing 
 grand-patience, when Pierre and Natasha, with their parcels 
 under their arms, came into the drawing-room. 
 
 The countess was now sixty years old. She was perfectly 
 gray, and wore a cap which framed her whole face in ruching. 
 Her face was wrinkled, her upper lip sunken, and her eyes 
 were dimmed. 
 
 After the loss of her son, followed so quickly by that of 
 her husband, she felt herself unexpectedly forgotten in this 
 world, a being without aim or object. She ate, drank, 
 slept, sat up, but she did not live. Life left no impression 
 upon her. 
 
 She asked nothing from life except repose, and repose she 
 could find only in death. But till death should come she had 
 to live, that is, employ all her vitality. She exemplified in 
 a high degree what is noticeable in very young children and 
 very old people. Her life had no manifest outward aim, but 
 was merely, so far as could be seen, occupied in exercising 
 her own individual proclivities and peculiarities. She felt 
 the necessity upon her to eat and drink, to sleep a little, to 
 think a little, to talk, to shed a few tears, to do some work, 
 to lose her temper occasionally, and so on, simply because she 
 had a stomach, brains, muscles, nerves, and a liver. 
 
 All this she did, not because action was called forth by 
 anything external, not as people in the full vigor of life do, 
 when above and beyond the object for which they are striving 
 is the unnoticeable object of putting forth their strength. 
 
 She talked, simply because she felt the physical necessity 
 of exercising her lungs, her tongue. She wept like a child, 
 because she had to blow her nose and the like. What for 
 people in the full possession of their faculties was an object 
 and aim, was evidently for her only an excuse. 
 
 Thus in the morning, especially if the evening before she 
 had eaten anything greasy, she manifested a disposition to 
 show temper, and then she would choose the handiest pretext,
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 297 
 
 Byelova's deafness. She would begin to say something in a 
 low tone of voice from the other end of the room. 
 
 "It seems warmer to-day, my love," she would say in a 
 whisper, and when Byelova would reply: "What, has he 
 come ? " she would grumble, 
 
 "Oh, dear me, * how stupid and deaf ! " 
 
 Another pretext was her snuff, which she complained of, as 
 being now too dry, now too damp, now badly powdered. 
 
 After these displays of temper her face would show that 
 there had been an effusion of bile, and her ma^ds had infalli- 
 ble signs to know when it would be the deaf Byelova, and 
 when it would be that the snuff was too damp, and when she 
 would have a bilious countenance. 
 
 Just as it required some preparations for her bilious fats, so 
 also she had to exert herself for her other peculiarities, the 
 pretext for thinking would be " patience." 
 
 When she had occasion to shed tears, then the pretext would 
 be the late count. n . 
 
 When she wanted to be anxious, her pretext was Nikolai 
 
 and his health. 
 
 When she wanted to speak sarcastically, then her pretext 
 
 was the Countess Mariya. 
 
 When she wanted to exercise her voice, this was generally 
 about seven o'clock, after her digesting nap, in her darkened 
 room, then the pretext was forever the same old stories, 
 which she would always tell to the same audience. 
 
 This state of second childhood was understood by all the 
 household, though no one ever mentioned it, and all possible 
 endeavors were made to gratify her desires. Only occasional 
 glances, accompanied by a melancholy half-smile, exchanged 
 between Nikolai and Pierre, Natasha and the Countess Mariya, 
 would express the reciprocal comprehension of her state. .But 
 these glances also said something else : they declared that she 
 had already played her part in life, that what was now to be 
 seen in her was not wholly herself, that all would at last come 
 to be the same, and that it was a pleasure to yield to her, to 
 restrain ourselves for this poor creature who was once so dear, 
 who was once as full of life as we ourselves. 
 
 Memento mori said these glances. Only the utterly depraved 
 and foolish people and little children would fail to understand 
 this, and find cause for shunning her. 
 
 * Bdzhe moi.
 
 298 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 WHEN Pierre and his wife came into the drawing-room, the 
 countess found herself, as usual, absorbed in w T hat she consid- 
 ered the intellectual labor of working out her grand-patience, 
 and therefore, according to her custom, she spoke the words 
 which she was sure to speak on the return of Pierre or her son, 
 namely, "Late," late, my dear; we have been expecting you. 
 Well, thank the Lord ; " and when she was given the presents, 
 she said other perfunctory words : " Wasn't it too expensive 
 a present for me, my dear boy ? Thanks for remembering the 
 old lady" 
 
 But it was evident that Pierre's intrusion was distasteful to 
 her at that moment because it distracted her attention from 
 her unfinished game of grand-patience. She completed the 
 laying out of the cards, and then only turned her attention to 
 her gifts. 
 
 The gifts consisted of a beautifully carved card-casket, a 
 bright blue Sevres cup with a cover and adorned with a pas- 
 toral scene, and, finally, a gold snuff-box with a portrait of 
 the late count, which Pierre had commissioned a Petersburg 
 miniaturist to paint (the countess had been long wishing for 
 one). 
 
 She was not now in one of her tearful moods, and therefore 
 she looked with indifference on the portrait, and took more 
 interest in her card-casket. " Thank you, my dear ; you have 
 cheered me up," said she, just as she always said. " But, best 
 of all, you have brought yourself back. But you can't imagine 
 how naughty it was, you ought to give your wife a good scold- 
 ing. Why ! she was like a crazy person while you were away ! 
 She hadn't any eyes or any memory for anything ! " said the 
 countess in the usual strain. " Look, Anna Timofeyevna, see 
 what a beautiful casket my dear son has brought to us." 
 
 Byelova lauded the gifts, and felt of the silk that was her 
 gift. 
 
 Although Pierre, Natasha, Nikolai, the Countess Mariya, 
 and Denisof were anxious to talk over many things that they 
 were not in the habit of discussing in her presence, not be- 
 cause they wanted to keep anything from her, but because 
 she was so out of the ordinary current of life that when any 
 topic of conversation was brought up in her presence, it was 
 always necessary to answer her questions, however untimely,
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 299 
 
 and repeat for her benefit what had already been many times 
 repeated, tell her who was dead, who was married, and other 
 things that she could not seem to get through her mind, they 
 sat down as usual to tea in the drawing-room, around the 
 samovar, and Pierre replied to all the countess's questions, 
 which were wholly unnecessary to her, and uninteresting to 
 every one else : as to whether Prince Vasili began to show 
 his age, and whether the Countess Marya Alekseyevna sent 
 any message to her, and the like. 
 
 Conversation of this sort, though interesting to no one, was 
 unavoidable, and lasted all through their tea-time. All the 
 adult members of the family were gathered for tea at the round 
 table, over which Sonya presided. 
 
 The children, the tutors, and the governesses had already 
 finished drinking their tea, and their voices were heard in the 
 adjoining divan-room. 
 
 While the elders were at tea, all sat in their accustomed 
 places : Nikolai near the stove, at the little stand, where they 
 handed him his glass. The old Borzaya Milka Milka the 
 swift (daughter of Milka I.) lay on the chair near him with 
 her perfectly gray face, from which occasionally bulged forth 
 a pair of great black eyes. Denisof, with his curly hair, his 
 mustaches, and side whiskers fast turning gray, sat next the 
 Countess Mariya, with his general's coat unbuttoned. Pierre 
 sat between his wife and the old countess. He was relating 
 what, as he knew, would greatly interest the old lady and be 
 comprehensible to her. He was telling her of the superficial 
 events of the society and about those people who had once 
 formed the circle of the old countess's intimate friends, who, 
 in days gone by, had been an active, lively, distinct "coterie, 
 but who now were, for the most part, scattered here and there, 
 like herself waiting for the final summons, gathering the last 
 gleanings of what they had sowed in life. 
 
 But these were the very ones, these contemporaries of hers, 
 who seemed to the old countess the only important and actual 
 
 world. , , 
 
 Natasha knew by Pierre's excitement that his 3ourney had 
 been interesting, that he had much that he wanted to talk 
 about, but did not dare to mention in the old countess s 
 presence. 
 
 ' Denisof, who had not been a member of the family long 
 enough to understand the cause of Pierre's caution, and, more- 
 over, because of his disaffection was greatly interested in what 
 was going on in Petersburg, kept urging Pierre to tell about
 
 300 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 the trouble in the Semyonovsky regiment, which had just 
 then broken out, and about Arakcheyef, and about the Bible 
 Society. Pierre was occasionally drawn away and would be- 
 gin to tell about these things, but Nikolai and Nastasha would 
 always bring him back to the health of Prince Ivan or the 
 Countess Marya Antonovna. 
 
 " Now tell me, what is all this nonsense about Hosner and 
 Tatarinof ? " asked Denisof. " Is it going to last always ? " 
 
 "Last always?" screamed Pierre, "it's worse than ever. 
 The Bible Society has absorbed the whole government." 
 
 " What is that, mon clier ami ? " asked the countess, who 
 had finished drinking her tea, and was now evidently anxious 
 to find some excuse for peevishness after her meal. " What 
 is that you said about the government ? I don't understand." 
 
 " Yes, you know, maman" put in Nikolai, who knew how to 
 translate what was said into language suitable for his mother's 
 comprehension, " Prince A. N. Golitsuin has started a society, 
 and he is now a man of great influence, they say." 
 
 "Arakcheyef and Golitsuin," said Pierre, incautiously, 
 "are now the real heads of the government. And what a 
 government! They affect to see plots in everything; they 
 are afraid of their own shadows." 
 
 " What ! Prince Aleksandr Nikolayevitch* in any way blame- 
 worthy ! He is a very fine man. I met him once at Marya An- 
 tonovna' s," said the countess in an offended tone, and she grew 
 still more offended because no one made any further reply. 
 She went on, "Nowadays, they're always criticising every- 
 body. What harm is there in the Gospel Society ? " 
 
 And she got up (all the rest also arose), and, with a stern 
 face, sailed into the divan-room, to her own table. 
 
 Amid the gloomy silence that ensued could be heard the 
 talking and laughter of the children in the adjoining room. 
 Evidently there was some joyous excitement going on among 
 the little ones. 
 
 " It's done ! It's done ! " rang out little Natasha's merry 
 shriek above all the others. 
 
 Pierre exchanged glances with the Countess Mariya and 
 Nikolai (his eyes were always on Natasha), and smiled gayly. 
 
 " That is wonderful music ! " said he. 
 
 " Anna Makarovna must have finished a stocking," said the 
 Countess Mariya. 
 
 " Oh, I'm going to see ! " cried Pierre, jumping up. " You 
 know," he added, as he paused by the door, " why I specially 
 * Golitsuin (Galitziii).
 
 WAR AND PEACE. SOI 
 
 love that kind of music they make me know for the first 
 time that everything is well. To-day, on my way home, the 
 nearer I come, the more afraid I am. As soon as I come into 
 the anteroom, I hear little Andryusha's voice, and of course J 
 know that all's well." 
 
 I know, I know what that feeling is," attested Nikolai. 
 "But I can't go with you, for you see those stockings are to 
 be a surprise for me ! " 
 
 Pierre joined the children, and the shouts and laughter 
 grew still louder. 
 
 "Well, Anna Makarovna," Pierre's voice was heard saying, 
 "now Pll stand in the middle here, and at the word one, 
 two and when I say three, you come to me. Clap your 
 hands ! Now, then, one two " cried Pierre. 
 
 There was perfect silence. " Three ! " and a rapturous shout 
 of children's voices rang from the room. " Once more ! once 
 more ! " cried the children. 
 
 There were two stockings which, by a secret which she kept 
 to herself, Anna Makarovna had been knitting at the same 
 time, and it was always her habit triumphantly to produce the 
 one out of the other, in the children's presence, when the 
 stockings were done. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 SHORTLY after this the children came in to say good-night. 
 The children kissed all round, the tutors and governesses 
 bowed and left the room. Dessalles and his charge were 
 alone left. The tutor whispered to his charge to go down- 
 stairs. 
 
 "Non, M. Dessalles, je demanderai a ma tante de rester, 
 replied Nikolenka Bolkonsky, also in a whisper. " Ma tante, 
 let me stay," pleaded Nikolenka, going to his aunt. His face 
 was full of entreaty, excitement, and enthusiasm. 
 
 The Countess Mariya looked at him and turned to Pierre. ^ 
 
 " When you are here, he cannot tear himself away," said 
 
 " Je vous le ramenerai tout-d, Vheure M. Dessalles ; bon soir" 
 said Pierre, giving the Swiss gentleman his hand, and then, 
 turning with a smile to Nikolenka, he said: "Really, we 
 haven't had a chance to see each other. Marie, how much he 
 is growing to resemble " he added, turning to the Countess 
 Mariya.
 
 302 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 " My father ? " asked the boy, flushing crimson, -and survey- 
 ing Pierre from head to foot with enraptured, gleaming eyes. 
 Pierre nodded, and went 011 with his story, which had been 
 interrupted by the children. 
 
 The Countess Mariya was working on her embroidery ; 
 Natasha, without dropping her eyes, gazed at her husband. 
 Nikolai and Denisof had got up, asked for their pipes, were 
 smoking, and getting an occasional cup of tea of Sonya, who 
 was sitting downcast and in gloomy silence behind the samo- 
 var, and asked questions of Pierre. 
 
 The curly-headed, sickly lad, with gleaming eyes, sat unob- 
 served by any one in the comer, and merely craned his slender 
 neck from his turned-down collar, so as to look toward Pierre, 
 occasionally starting, or whispering something to himself, and 
 was evidently under the influence of some new and powerful 
 emotion. 
 
 The conversation turned on the contemporary gossip about 
 the higher members of the government, in which the majority 
 of people usually find the chief interest in internal politics. 
 
 Denisof, who was dissatisfied with government on account 
 of his lack of success in the service, was rejoiced to learn of 
 the follies which, in his opinion, were being committed at that 
 time at Petersburg, and his comments on Pierre's remarks 
 were made in keen arid forcible language. 
 
 " Once upon a time you had to be a German : now you must 
 dance with Tatawinova and Madame Kwiidener, and wead 
 Eckarsthausen and the like. Okh ! if we could only set our 
 bwave Bonaparte upon 'em ! He would dwive the folly out of 
 'em ! Now, I'd like to know what's the sense of giving the 
 Semyonovsky wegiment to a man like Schwartz ? " he cried. 
 
 Nikolai, though he had no wish at all to find fault with 
 everything, as Denisof did, felt that it was thoroughly digni- 
 fied and worth his while to make some criticisms on the gov- 
 ernment, and he felt that the fact that A. was appointed 
 minister in this department, and that B. was appointed gov- 
 ernor-general of this city, and that the sovereign said this or 
 that, and this minister something else, and all these things, 
 were very important. And he considered it necessary to take 
 an interest in these things, and to question Pierre. 
 
 Owing to the questions of the two men the conversation did 
 not get beyond that general character of gossip concerning the 
 upper spheres of the administration. 
 
 But Natasha, who knew her husband's every habit and 
 thought, saw that Pierre had been long futilely wishing to
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 303 
 
 lead the conversation into another path, so that he might 
 speak his mind and tell why he had gone to Petersburg to 
 consult with his new friend, Prince Feodor, and she tried to 
 help him with a question : 
 
 How had he got along with Prince Feodor ? 
 
 "What is that ? " asked Nikolai. 
 
 " Oh, it's all one and the same thing," said Pierre, glancing 
 around him. ''All see that affairs are so rotten that they 
 cannot be allowed to remain so, and that it is the duty of all 
 honorable men to oppose them to the best of their ability." 
 
 "What can honorable men do?" asked Nikolai, slightly 
 contracting his brows. " What can be done ? " 
 
 " This can " 
 
 "Come into the library," suggested Nikolai. 
 
 Natasha, who had been for some time expecting to be called 
 to nurse the baby, heard the nyanya's call, and went to the 
 nursery. The 'Countess Mariya went with her. 
 
 The men went into the library ; and Nikolenka Bolkonsky, 
 Unobserved by his uncle, went with them, and sat down in the 
 shadow by the window, at the writing-table. 
 
 " Well, then, what are you going to do ? " asked Denisof. 
 
 " Forever visionary ! " exclaimed Nikolai. 
 
 " This is what," began Pierre, not sitting down, but striding 
 through the room, occasionally pausing and making rapid 
 motions with his hands while he spoke. " This is what : 
 the state of affairs in Petersburg is like this : the sovereign 
 takes no part in anything. He is wholly given over to mysti- 
 cism (Pierre could not pardon mysticism in any one now). 
 All he asks for is to be left in peace, and this peace can be 
 given him only by the men sans foi ni loi, who are perfectly 
 unscrupulous in their rough and cruel treatment of every one : 
 Magnitsky, Arakcheyef, e tutti quanti. You must admit that 
 if you yourself were not busy with your management of the 
 estate, but merely wanted comfort and peace, the more savage 
 your bailiff was, the more quickly you would attain your 
 aim," said he, addressing Nikolai. 
 
 " Well, now, why do you say that ? " demanded Nikolai. 
 
 " Well, everything's going to pieces. Robbery in the courts : 
 the army under the rod : discipline transportation tortur- 
 ing the people civilization crushed. All the young men 
 and the honorable are persecuted. All see that this cannot 
 go on so. The strain is too great, and there must be a break," 
 said Pierre (as men have always said about the deeds of any 
 government, and will always say so long as governments shall 
 last). " I told them one thing at Petersburg "
 
 304 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 "Told whom ? " asked Denisof. 
 
 "Why, you know whom," exclaimed Pierre, giving him a 
 significant look from under his brows. " Prince Feodor and 
 all of them. To make rivals of enlightenment and charity is 
 a fine thing, of course. The aim is admirable and all that, 
 but something else is necessary in the present circumstances." 
 
 At this moment, Nikolai noticed that his nephew was pres- 
 ent. His face became wrathful ; he went over to him : 
 
 " Why are you here ? " 
 
 "Why, let him stay," said Pierre, taking Nikolai by the 
 hand and proceeding : "' That's not all,' said I to them, 
 'something else is necessary. While you stand and wait, this 
 strained cord breaks ; while we are all expecting some immi- 
 nent change, we ought to be gathering closer together, and 
 taking hold of hands, more and more of us, in order to prevent 
 the general catastrophe. All that is young and vigorous is 
 crowding here and becoming corrupt. One is seduced by 
 women ; another, by ambition and grandeur ; a third, by van- 
 ity or money ; and then they go over to the other camp. 
 There are getting to be no independent, free men at all, like 
 you and me. I say widen the circle of the society : let the 
 mot d'ordre be not merely virtue, but also independence and 
 activity.' " 
 
 Nikolai, who had let his nephew remain, angrily moved his 
 chair, sat down in it, and while he listened to Pierre he invol- 
 untarily coughed and scowled still more portentously. 
 
 "Yes, but what is to be the object of this activity ?" he 
 cried. " And what position do you hold toward the govern- 
 ment ? " 
 
 " What position ? The position of helpers. The society 
 might not remain a secret one if the government would give 
 us its favor. It is not only not hostile to the government, but 
 this society is composed of genuine conservatives. It is a soci- 
 ety of gentlemen * in the full meaning of the word. We exist 
 merely to prevent Pugachof t from coming to cut the throats 
 of my children and yours, and Arakcheyef from sending me to 
 one of his military colonies ; for this purpose we have banded 
 together, with the single aim of the general welfare and the 
 general safety." 
 
 11 Yes, but a secret society must necessarily be harmful and 
 prejudicial is bound to produce nothing but evil." 
 
 * Dzhentelmenof. 
 
 t Emilian Pugachof, a vagabond Cossack, during the reign of Catherine 
 the Great, gave himself out for Peter III., and, after about a year of vary- 
 ing success, was captured and quartered in J aimary, 1775.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 305 
 
 " Why so ? Did the Tugendbund, which saved Europe " 
 (even then they dared not imagine that it was Russia that 
 saved Europe), "did that produce anything harmful? Tu- 
 gendbund that means a society of the virtuous : it was love, 
 mutual aid, it was what Christ promised on the cross." 
 
 Natasha, who had come into the room in the midst of the 
 discussion, looked joyfully at her husband. It was not that 
 she was pleased with what he said. It did not even interest 
 her, because it seemed to her that it was all so perfectly sim- 
 ple, and that she had known it all long before it seemed so 
 to her because she knew so well the source from which it all 
 came, from Pierre's mind but she was pleased because she 
 looked into his lively, enthusiastic face. 
 
 With still more joyful enthusiasm, the lad, who again had 
 been forgotten by all, gazed at Pierre, craning his thin neck 
 from his turned-down collar. Every word that Pierre spoke 
 made his heart glow, and, with a nervous motion of his fmgers, 
 without knowing what he was doing, he broke the pens and 
 pieces of stealing-wax on his uncle's table. 
 
 " But I beg of you not to think that the German Tugend- 
 bund and the one to which I belong are at all alike." 
 
 " Come, now, bwother, this Tugendbund is Well enough for 
 the sausage-eaters, but I don't understand it, and I don't say 
 anything against it," cried Denisof, in his loud, decisive tones. 
 " Everything's wotten, and going to wuin, I admit, but as for 
 your Tugendbund, I know nothing about it, and I don't like 
 it give us a weal wevolt, * that's the talk ! Je suis vot'e 
 homme" 
 
 Pierre smiled, Natasha laughed, but Nikolai still further 
 knitted his brows and tried to prove to Pierre that there was 
 no revolution to be apprehended, and that all the danger of 
 which he spoke existed only in his imagination. 
 
 Pierre argued to the contrary ; and as his powers of reason- 
 ing were stronger and better trained, Nikolai felt that he was 
 driven into a corner. This still further incensed him, since, 
 in the bottom of his heart, not through any process of reason- 
 ing, but by something more potent than logic, he knew the 
 indubitable truth of his opinion. 
 
 " Well, this what I tell you," he cried, rising, and with ner- 
 vous motions putting his pipe in the corner and finally throw- 
 ing it down. "I can't prove it to you. You say that every- 
 thing is all rotten, and that there will be a revolution: I 
 
 * A pun an the original: bunt (a revolt^ from German Bund, and prey 
 nounced the same. 
 
 VOL. 4. 20.
 
 806 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 don't see it ; but you say that an oath, of secrecy is an essen- 
 tial condition, and in reply to this I tell you : You are my 
 best friend, you know it, but if in. founding a secret soci- 
 ety you should undertake anything against the administra- 
 tion, whatever it was, I know that it would be my duty to 
 obey it. And if Arakcheyef should order me to go against 
 you, instantly, and cut you down, I should not hesitate a 
 second, but should start. So, then, decide as you please.' 7 
 
 An awkward silence followed these words. 
 
 Natasha was the first to speak : she took her husband's side 
 and opposed her brother. Her defence was weak and clumsy, 
 but her object was attained. The discussion was renewed on 
 a different topic, and no longer in that hostile tone with which 
 Nikolai's last, words had been spoken. 
 
 When all got up to take supper Nikolenka Bolkonsky went 
 to Pierre with pale face, and gleaming, luminous eyes. 
 
 " Uncle Pierre you no if my papa were alive he 
 would agree with you, wouldn't he ? " he asked. 
 
 Pierre suddenly realized what a peculiar, independent, com- 
 plicated, and powerful work must have been operating in this 
 lad's mind during this discussion ; and when he recalled what . 
 had been said, he felt a sense of annoyance that the lad had 
 listened to them. However, he had to answer him. 
 
 " I think so," said he reluctantly, and left the library. 
 
 The lad bent his head, and then for the first time seemed to 
 realize what mischief he had been doing on the writing-table. 
 He flushed, and went to Nikolai. 
 
 " Uncle, forgive me for what I have done. I did not mean 
 to," said he, pointing to the broken pens and pieces of sealing- 
 wax. 
 
 Nikolai gave an angry start. 
 
 " Fine work, fine work," said he, flinging the fragments of 
 pens and wax under the table. And, evidently finding it hard 
 to restrain the anger that overmastered him, he turned away. 
 
 " You ought never to have been here at all," said he. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 AT supper, the talk no longer turned on politics and secret 
 societies, but, on the contrary, proved to be particularly inter- 
 esting to Nikolai, owing to Denisof bringing it round to 
 reminiscences of the war of 1812, and here Pierre was partic- 
 ularly genial and diverting. And the relatives parted for the 
 night on the most friendly terms.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 307 
 
 When, after supper, Nikolai, after having changed his 
 clothes in his library and given orders to his overseer, who 
 was waiting for him, returned in his "khalat to his sleeping- 
 room, he found his wife still at her desk : she was writing 
 something. 
 
 What are you writing, Marie ? " asked Nikolai. 
 
 The Countess Mariya reddened. She feared that what she 
 was writing would not be understood and approved by her 
 husband. She would have preferred to conceal from him 
 what she had been writing, but at the same time she was glad 
 that he had found her and that she had to tell him. 
 
 It is my diary, Nicolas," said she, a bluish note-book 
 written in a fair round hand. 
 
 "A journal!" exclaimed Nikolai, with just a shade 
 irony in his tone, and he took the note-book. It was written 
 in French. 
 
 Dec 16 To-day, Andryusha [her oldest son], when he woke up, did 
 not wish 'to b,e dressed, and Mile. Luisa sent for me. He was ca- 
 pricious and wilful, and when I tried to threaten him, he only grew 
 the more obstinate and angry. Then I took him to my room, left him 
 alone, and began to help the nurse get the rest of the children up, but 1 
 told him that I should not love him. He was silent for a long time, as 
 though in amazement; then he jumped up, ran to me in nothing but his 
 little night shirt, and sobbed so that it was long before 1 could pacify 
 Mm It was evident that he was more grieved because he had troubled 
 me than bv anything else! Then when I put him to bed this evening, 
 and gave him his card, he again wept pitifully, and kissed me. You can 
 do anything with him through his affections. 
 
 " What do you mean by < his card ' ? " asked Nikolai. 
 
 " I have begun to give the older children cards in the even- 
 ing, when they have been good." 
 
 Nikolai glanced into the luminous eyes that gazed at nim, 
 and continued to turn the leaves and read. In the diary was 
 written everything concerning the children's lives that 
 seemed important in the mother's eyes as expressing the char- 
 acter of the children, or that suggested thoughts concerning 
 their education. These were, for the most part, the most 
 insignificant trifles, but they seemed not such to the mother 
 or the father when now, for the first time, he read this journal 
 about his children. 
 
 The entry for the seventeenth of December was : 
 
 Mitya played pranks at table: papa would not let pastry be given to 
 him It was not given to him, but he looked so eagerly and longingly at 
 the others while they were eating! I think that it is a punishment not 
 to let him have a taste of the sweets, only increases his greediness. 
 Must tell Nicolas.
 
 308 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 Nikolai put down the book and looked at his wife. Her 
 radiant eyes looked at him questioiiingly : did he approve, or 
 disapprove, of the diary ? There could be no doubt of his 
 approval or of his admiration for his wife. 
 
 "Perhaps there was no need of doing it in such a pedantic 
 manner, perhaps it was not necessary at all," thought 
 Nikolai ; but this unwearied, everlasting, sincere effort, the 
 sole end and aim of which was the moral welfare of the chil- 
 dren, roused his admiration. If Nikolai could have analyzed 
 his feelings, he would have discovered that the chief basis of 
 his firm, tender, and proud love for his wife was found in his 
 amazement at her cordial sincerity and her spiritual nature, 
 at that lofty moral world in which his wife always lived, but 
 which was almost unattainable for him. 
 
 He was proud that she was so intelligent and so good, 
 acknowledging his inferiority to her in the spiritual world, 
 and rejoicing all the more that she in her soul not only 
 belonged to him but formed a part of him. 
 
 " I approve and thoroughly approve, darling," said he, with 
 a meaning look. And, after a little silence, he added : " I 
 have behaved very scurvily to-day. You were not in the 
 library. Pierre and I had a discussion, and I lost my temper. 
 Yes, it's incredible. He's such a child. I don't know what 
 would become of him if Natasha did not hold him in leading 
 strings. Can you imagine why he went to Petersburg ? 
 They have started there a " 
 
 " Yes, I know," interrupted the Countess Mariya ; " Nata- 
 sha told me about it." 
 
 " Well, then, you must know," pursued Nikolai, growing 
 hot at the mere memory of the quarrel, " he wanted to make 
 me believe that it is the duty of every honorable man to go 
 against the government, even though he has taken the oath of 
 allegiance. I am sorry that you were not there. But they 
 were all against me, Denisof and Natasha. Natasha is ludi- 
 crous. You know how she keeps him under her slipper, but 
 when there is anything to be decided, she can't speak her 
 own mind . at all. She simply says what he says," added 
 Nikolai, giving way to that vague tendency which men have 
 to criticise their nearest and best friends. Nikolai forgot 
 that, word for word, what he said about Natasha might be 
 said about him and his wife. 
 
 " Yes, I have noticed it," said the Countess Mariya. 
 
 " When I told him that my duty and my oath of allegiance 
 were above everything, he tried to prove Heaven knows what
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 309 
 
 Pity that you weren't there, I should like to know what you 
 would have said." 
 
 " In my opinion, you were perfectly right. 
 Natasha. Pierre says that all are suffering, persecuted, cor- 
 rupt and that it is our duty to render help to our neighbors. 
 Of course, he is right," said the Countess Mariya, " but he 
 forgets that we have other obligations, nearer still, which 
 God himself has imposed upon us, and that we may run risks 
 for ourselves but not for our children." 
 
 There, there, that is the very thing I told him, cried 
 Nikolai, who actually thought that he had said that very 
 thino- "But they made out that this was love to the neigh- 
 bor, was Christianity, and all that, before Nikolenka, who 
 stole into the library and broke up everything there was on 
 my table." 
 
 " Akh ! do you know, Nicolas, Nikolenka so often makes me 
 anxious," said the Countess Mariya. " He is such an extraor- 
 dinary boy. And I am afraid that I am too partial to my 
 own children and neglect him. Our children have both father 
 and mother, but he is absolutely alone in the world, 
 always alone with his own thoughts." 
 
 "Well, now, it seems to me that you have nothing to 
 reproach yourself with in regard to him. All the most affec- 
 tionate 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 
 splendid, splendid boy. To-day, he listened to Pierre, and 
 had no ears for anything else. And you can imagine : as we 
 were going out to supper, I look, and lo ! he has broken into 
 flinders everything on my table, and he instantly told me. 
 never knew him to -tell an untruth. Splendid, splendid boy, 
 repeated Nikolai, who really, at heart, did not like the lad, 
 though he always took pains to call him sldvnui, splendid. 
 
 " Well, I am not like a mother to him," said the Countess 
 Mariya ; " I feel that I am not, and it troubles me. He's a 
 wonderful lad, but I'm terribly anxious about him. More 
 society would be a good thing for him." 
 
 "Well, it won't be long; this summer I'm going to take 
 him to Petersburg," said Nikolai. " Yes, Pierre always was 
 and always will be a dreamer, a visionary," he went on to say, 
 returning to the discussion in the library, which had evidently 
 greatly agitated him. " Now, what difference does it make to 
 me that Arakcheyef is not good and all that ? What differ- 
 ence did it make to me when I was married and had so many 
 debts that I might have been put into the sponging-house, and
 
 310 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 mother, who could not see it and understand ? And then you 
 and the children and my affairs ? Is it for my own enjoyment 
 that I spend the whole day from morning till night in attend- 
 ing to business and in the office? No, I know that it is my 
 duty to work in order to soothe my mother's last days, to pay 
 you back, and so as not to leave the children, in such a condi- 
 tion of beggary as I 'was ! " 
 
 The Countess Mariya wanted to tell him that not by bread 
 alone is manhood nourished, that it was possible to set too 
 great store in these affairs of his, but she knew that it would 
 be unnecessary and unprofitable to say this. 
 
 She only took his hand and kissed it. He accepted this act 
 of his wife?s as approval and confirmation of his words, and, 
 after some little time of silent meditation, he went on aloud 
 with his thoughts. 
 
 "Do you know, Marie," said he, "Ilya Mitrof anuitch " 
 this was their man of business "came to-day from our 
 Tambof estate, and told me that they would give eighty 
 thousand for the forest there." 
 
 And Nikolai, with animated face, began to speak about the 
 possibilities of being very soon able to buy back Otradnoye. 
 " If only I live ten years longer, I shall leave the children in 
 a splendid position." 
 
 The Countess Mariya listened to her husband and under- 
 stood all that he said to her. She knew that when he thus 
 thought aloud, he sometimes asked her what he had said, and 
 was vexed to find that she had been thinking of something 
 else. But she had to use great effort over herself, for she was 
 not in the least interested in what he said. 
 
 She looked at him, and if she was not thinking of something 
 else, she had other feelings. She felt an obstinate, tender 
 love for this man, though he would never be able to under- 
 stand what she understood, and, as it were, from this very 
 reason she loved him all the more, with a touch of passionate 
 affection. 
 
 Beside this feeling, which entirely absorbed her, and made 
 her enter into all the details of her husband's plans, her mind 
 was filled with ideas which had no connection with what he 
 was talking about. She was thinking of her nephew the 
 story that her husband told of his excitement at Pierre's re- 
 marks had powerfully impressed her and the various char- 
 acteristics of his tender, sensitive nature arose to her mind, 
 and the thought about her nephew made her think of her own 
 children, ghe made no comparison between her nephew an<J
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 311 
 
 her own children, but she compared her respective feelings 
 toward them, and found to her sorrow that there was some- 
 thing lacking in her feeling for Nikolenka. 
 
 Sometimes the thought came to her that this difference 
 arose from the difference in their ages, but she felt that she 
 was blameworthy toward him, and in her heart she vowed 
 that she would do better and would make every effort : that 
 is, that during her life she would love her husband and her 
 children and Nikdlenka and all her neighbors as Christ loved 
 the human race. 
 
 The Countess Mariya's soul was always* striving toward the 
 Infinite, the Eternal, and the Absolute, and therefore she 
 could never rest content. Her face always wore the stern 
 expression of a soul kept on a high tension by suffering, and 
 becoming a burden to the body. 
 
 Nikolai gazed at her.. 
 
 " My God ! what would become of us if she should die, as 
 it sometimes seems must be when her face has that expres- 
 sion ? " he said to himself, and, stopping in front of the holy 
 pictures, he began to repeat his evening prayers. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 NATASHA and her husband, left alone, also talked as only 
 wife and husband can talk, namely, with extraordinary clear- 
 ness and swiftness, recognizing and communicating each other's 
 thoughts, by a method contrary to all logic, without the aid 
 of reasoning, syllogisms, and deductions, but with absolute 
 freedom. Natasha had become so used to talking with this 
 freedom with her husband that the surest sign, in her mind, 
 that there was something wrong between her and him was for 
 Pierre to give a logical turn to his arguments with her. When 
 he began to bring proofs and to talk with calm deliberation, 
 and when she, carried away by his example, began to do the 
 same, she knew that they were surely on the verge of a quarrel. 
 
 From the moment that they were entirely alone, and Na- 
 tasha with wide, happy eyes went quietly up to him, and 
 suddenly, with a swift motion, taking his head between both 
 her hands, pressed it to her breast, and said : " Now, thou art 
 all mine, mine ! Thou wilt not go ! " from that moment 
 began that intimate dialogue, contrary to air the laws of logic, 
 contrary simply because the talk ran at one and the same 
 time upon such absolutely different topics.
 
 812 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 This simultaneous consideration of many things not only 
 did not prevent their clearly understanding each other, but, 
 on the contrary, was the surest sign that they understood each 
 other. 
 
 As in a vision everything is illusory, absurd, and incoherent 
 except the feeling which is the guide of the vision, so in this 
 intercourse, so contrary to all the laws of logic, the phrases 
 uttered were not logical arid clear, while the feeling that 
 gnided them was. 
 
 Natasha told Pierre about her brother's mode of life, how 
 she had suffered and found it impossible to live while he, her 
 husband, was absent, and how she had grown fonder than ever 
 of Marie, and how Marie was in every respect better than she 
 was. 
 
 In saying this, Natasha was genuine in her acknowledgment 
 that she saw Marie's superiority, but, at the same time, in say- 
 ing this she claimed from Pierre that he should still prefer her 
 to Marie arid all other women, and now again, especially after 
 he had been seeing many women in Petersburg, that he should 
 assure her of this' fact. 
 
 Pierre, in answering Natasha's words, told her how unen- 
 durable it was for him to go to dinners and parties with 
 ladies. 
 
 " I had really forgotten how to talk with the ladies," said 
 he. " It was simply a bore. Especially when I was so busy." 
 
 Natasha gazed steadily at him and went on : 
 
 "Marie ! she is so lovely !" said she. "How well she knows 
 how to treat the children ! It seems as though she only read 
 their souls ! Last evening, for example, little Mitenka began 
 to be contrary " 
 
 " But how like his father he is ! " interrupted Pierre. 
 
 Natasha understood why he made this remark about the 
 likeness between Mitenka and Nikolai : the remembrance of 
 his discussion with his brother-in-law was disagreeable to him, 
 and he wanted to hear her opinion in regard to it. 
 
 " Nikolenka has the weakness of not accepting anything 
 unless it is received by every one. But I apprehend you set 
 a special value upon it, pour ouvrir une carriere" said she, 
 repeating words once spoken by Pierre. 
 
 "'No, the main thing is, Nikolai looks upon thought and 
 reasoning as amusement, almost as a waste of time," said 
 Pierre. "Now he is collecting a library, and he has made a 
 rule for himself never to buy a new book until he has read 
 through what he has already bought Sismondi and Kousseau
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 313 
 
 iind Montesquieu," added Pierre with a smile. "Why, you 
 know him as well as I do." He began to modify his words, 
 ^ufc Natasha interrupted him, giving him to understand that 
 'his was unnecessary. 
 
 "So you think that he considers pure thought mere 
 
 " Yes, and for me everything else is mere trifling. All the 
 time that I was in Petersburg it seemed to me as though I 
 saw all men in a dream. When I am engaged m thinking, 
 then everything else seems a sheer waste of time." 
 
 "Akh! what a pity that I did not see you greet the 
 children ! Which one do you love most of all ? Liza, I 
 suspect." 
 
 " Yes " said Pierre, and he went on with what was engross- 
 ing his attention. " Nikolai says that we have no business 
 to think. Well, I can't help it. Not to mention that I felt 
 in Petersburg I can tell you that if it were not for me, 
 everything, all our scheme, would go to pieces, every one was 
 pulling in his own direction. But I succeeded m uniting jill 
 parties, and, besides, my idea is so simple and clear. You 
 see, I don't say that we ought to act in opposition to this one 
 or that one. We may be deceived. But I say : Let those 
 who love what is right join hands, and let our whole watch- 
 word be action and virtue. Prince Sergii is a splendid man 
 and very intelligent." 
 
 Natasha had no doubt that Pierre's idea was grand, but 
 one thing confused her. This was that he was her hus- 
 band. " Can it be that a man so important, so necessary to 
 the world, can at the same time be my husband ! How did 
 this ever come about ? " 
 
 She wanted to express this doubt to him. "Whoever 
 should pass judgment on this question, he would be so much 
 more intelligent than them all, wouldn't he ? " she asked her- 
 self, and in her imagination she reviewed the men who were 
 very important to Pierre. None of all these men, judging by 
 his own story, had such an important effect upon him as 
 Platon Karatayef. 
 
 " Do you know what I was thinking about ? " she asked. 
 "About Platon Karatayef! How about him? Would he 
 approve, now ? " 
 
 Pierre was not at all surprised at this question, 
 stood the trend of his wife's thoughts. 
 
 " Platon Karatayef ? " he repeated and pondered, apparently 
 honestly endeavoring to realize what Karatayef s opinion con-
 
 314 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 cerning this matter would be. "He would not understand, 
 but still I think he would approve yes ! " 
 
 " I love thee awfully ! " * said Natasha suddenly. " Aw- 
 fully ! Awfully ! " 
 
 "No, he would not approve," said Pierre after a little 
 reconsideration. "What he would approve would be this 
 domestic life of ours. He so liked to see beauty, happiness, 
 repose, in everything, and I should be proud if I could show 
 him ourselves. Now you talk about parting ! But you can- 
 not understand what a strange feeling I have for you after 
 being separated from you " 
 
 " Why, was it " began Natasha. 
 
 " No, not that. I shall never cease to love thee. It would 
 be impossible to love thee more ; but this is peculiar. Well, 
 yes ! " But he did not finish his sentence, because their eyes 
 met and said the rest. 
 
 "What nonsense," suddenly cried Natasha, "that the 
 honeymoon and real happiness are only during the first part 
 of the time ! On the contrary, now i's the best of all. If 
 only you would never go away from me ! Do you remember 
 how we quarrelled ? And it was always I who was at fault. 
 Always I. But as to what we quarrelled about, I am sure I 
 don't remember ! " 
 
 "Always about one thing," said Pierre, smiling. " Jealo" 
 
 "No, don't mention it, I can't endure it," cried Natasha, 
 and a cold, cruel light flashed into her eyes. "Did you see 
 her ? " she added after a little silence. 
 
 " No, and if I had seen her I should not have recognized 
 her." 
 
 They were both silent. 
 
 " Akh ! do you know, when you were talking in the 
 library, I was looking at you," pursued Natasha, evidently 
 trying to drive away the cloud which had suddenly risen. 
 "Well, you and our little lad are as alike as two drops of 
 water." Our little lad mdlchik was what she called her 
 son. " Akh ! it is time for me to go to him I'm sorry to 
 have to go ! " 
 
 They were silent for several seconds. Then suddenly they 
 turned to each other, and each began to make some remark at 
 the same instant. 
 
 Pierre began with self-confidence and impulsive warmth, 
 Natasha with a quiet, blissful smile. Their words colliding, 
 they both stopped to give each other the chance to speak. 
 * Uzhazno: literally, horribly.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 315 
 
 No, what was it ? tell me ! tell me ! " 
 
 -'No, you tell me, what I was going to say was only 
 nonsense," said Natasha. 
 
 Pierre went on with what he had begun to say. It was a 
 continuation of his self-congratulatory opinion concerning the 
 success of his visit at Petersburg. It seemed to him at that 
 moment that he was called to give a new direction to all 
 Eussian society and to the whole world. 
 
 " I was only going to say that all ideas which have porten- 
 tous consequences are always simple. My whole idea con- 
 sists in this : that if all vicious men are bound together and 
 constitute a force, then all honorable men ought to do the 
 same. How simple that is ! " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " And what were .you going to say ? " 
 
 " Only a bit of nonsense ! " 
 
 " No, tell me what it was ! " 
 
 " Oh, nothing, a mere trifle ! " said Natasha, beaming with a 
 still more radiant smile. "I was only going to say some- 
 thing about Petya : To-day the nurse was going to take him 
 from me. He began to laugh, then scowled a little and clung 
 
 to me evidently he thought that he was going to play 
 
 peek-a-boo Awfully cunning. There he is crying ! Well, 
 good-night ! " and she left the room. 
 
 At the same time below in Nikolenka Bolkonsky's apart- 
 ment, in his sleeping-room, the night-lamp was burning as 
 always (the lad was afraid of the darkness and they could 
 not break the lad of this fault Dessalles was sleeping 
 high on his four pillows, and his Roman nose gave forth the 
 measured sounds of snoring). 
 
 Nikolenka, who had just awakened from a nap, 111 a cold 
 perspiration, with wide-opened eyes sat up in bed and was 
 looking straight ahead. 
 
 * A strange dream had awakened him. In his dream he had 
 seen himself and Pierre in helmets such as the men wore in 
 his edition of Plutarch. He and his uncle Pierre were march- 
 ing forward at the head of a tremendous army. This army 
 was composed of white, slanting threads, filling the air, like 
 the cobwebs which float in the autumn, and which Dessalles 
 called lefil de la Vierge the Virgin's thread. 
 
 Before them was glory, just exactly like these threads, only 
 much stouter. They he and Pierre were borne on lightly 
 and joyously, ever nearer and nearer to their goal, Suddenly
 
 316 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 the threads which moved them began to slacken, to grow con- 
 fused ; it became trying. And his uncle Nikolai Ilyitch stood 
 in front of them in a stern and threatening posture. 
 
 " What have you been doing ? " he demanded, pointing to 
 his broken sealing-wax and pens. " I loved you, but 
 Arakcheyef has given me the order, and I shall kill the first 
 who advances." 
 
 Nikolenka looked round at Pierre, but Pierre was no 
 longer there. In place of Pierre was his own father, Prince 
 Andrei, and his father had no shape or form ; but there he 
 was, and in looking at him Nikolenka felt the weakness of 
 love ; he felt himself without strength, without bones, as it 
 were, liquid. His father petted him and pitied him. But 
 his uncle Nikolai Ilyitch came ever closer and closer to him. 
 Horror seized Nikolenka and he awoke. 
 
 " Father," he thought. " Father ! " (although there were in 
 the house two excellent portraits, Nikolenka had never 
 imagined Prince Andrei as existing in human form). " My 
 father was with me and caressed me. He approved of me. 
 He approved of Uncle Pierre. Whatever he says I will do. 
 Mucius Scaevola burnt his hand. But why should I not do as 
 much in my life ? I know they want me to study, and I will 
 study. But when I am grown up then I will do it. I 
 will only ask one thing of God : that I may have in me what 
 the men in Plutarch had, and I will do likewise. I will do 
 better. All will know me, all will love me, all will praise 
 2ae." And suddenly Nikolenka felt the sobs fill his chest, and 
 he burst into tears. 
 
 " Etes-vous indispose ? " asked Dessalles's voice. 
 
 " Non" replied Nikolenka, and he lay back on his pillow. 
 " He is good and kind, I love him," said he of Dessalles, " but 
 Uncle Pierre ! Oh, what a wonderful man ! But my father ! 
 my father! my father! Yes, I will do whatever he would 
 approve."
 
 PART SECOND. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE object of history is the life of nations and of humanity. 
 To grasp and express proximately in words that is, to de- 
 pict the life, not of humanity, but simply of a single people, 
 is an impossibility. 
 
 All the historians of former times employed exactly the 
 same way of grasping and describing the life of a nation. 
 They described the actions of the individuals who ruled 'over 
 a nation, and the actions of these individuals, they supposed, 
 were an epitome of the activity of the nation. 
 
 To the questions, How could individuals make a whole na- 
 tion act in accordance with their wills, and. How was the will 
 of these men themselves controlled ? the historians of old an- 
 swered the first by proclaiming a divine will which subor- 
 dinated nations to the will of a single chosen man; -and the 
 second question, by declaring that this divinity directed the 
 will of the chosen man toward a predestined end. 
 
 For those of old times all such questions were answered by 
 a belief in the immediate interference of the Divinity in 
 human actions. 
 
 The new school of history has in theory abandoned both 
 these positions. 
 
 It would seem that after having abandoned the old faith in 
 the subordination of man to the Divinity, and in the doctrine 
 of predestined ends to which nations are led, the New History 
 ought to study, not the manifestations of power, but the causes 
 which are the source of power. 
 
 But the New History has not done this. 
 
 After theoretically abandoning the views of the old school, 
 it follows them in practice. 
 
 In place of men clothed with divine power and governed 
 directly by the will of the Divinity, the New History repre^ 
 sents either heroes endowed with extraordinary, superhuman 
 qualities, or simply men of the most varied talent, from mon- 
 archs to journalists, directing fche masses. 
 
 317
 
 318 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 Instead of finding in the special, divinely pre-ordained ino- 
 tives of any nation Jewish, Greek, or Roman the motive 
 for human action in general, as was the custom of the histo- 
 rians of old, the ]STew History discovers its motives in the wel- 
 fare of the French, the English, the Germans and, in its 
 loftiest abstraction, in the welfare of the civilized world and 
 of the whole of humanity, by which is generally meant the 
 nations occupying the little northwest corner of the continent. 
 
 Modern history has abandoned the old theories without 
 establishing any new views in place of them, and the logic of 
 their position has compelled the very historians who have 
 rejected the hypothesis of the divine right of kings and the 
 Fatum of the ancients to reach by a different route the same 
 point : the assertion (1), that nations are guided by individu- 
 als, and (2), that there is a special object toward which the 
 nations and humanity are moving. 
 
 In all the works of the most recent historians, from Gibbon 
 to Buckle, notwithstanding their apparent disagreement and 
 the apparent novelty of their views, at bottom lie these two 
 old theories, from which they could not escape. 
 
 In the first place, the historians describe the actions of 
 men who, in their opinion, have guided humanity. One 
 counts as such only monarch?, generals, and statesmen ; an- 
 other, besides monarchs, takes orators, men of science, reform- 
 ers, philosophers, and poets. 
 
 In the second place, the historians believe they know the 
 end toward which humanity is guided : to one, that end is 
 the greatness of the Roman, the Spanish, or the French em- 
 pires ; to another it is liberty and equality, or the kind of 
 civilization that obtains in the little corner of the globe called 
 Europe. 
 
 In 1789 a fermentation begins at Paris ; it grows, spreads, 
 and results in a movement of peoples from west to east. 
 Several times this movement is directed toward the east ; it 
 meets with a counter-movement from east to west. 
 
 In 1812 it -reaches its final limit, Moscow, and with remark- 
 able rhythmic symmetry occurs the counter-movement from 
 east to west, which, like the former, carries with it the na- 
 tions of Central Europe. This return movement reaches to 
 the departing point of the preceding wave, Paris, and subsides. 
 
 During this twenty-years period a tremendous number of 
 fields remain, unploughed, houses are burned, trade changes 
 its direction, millions of men are ruined, are enriched, emi- 
 grate, and millions of Christians who profess to obey the la\f 
 of love to their neighbors kill one another.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 319 
 
 What does all this mean ? What is the cause of this ? 
 What forced these men to burn houses and kill their fellow- 
 men ? What were the reasons for these events ? What force 
 compelled men to act in this way ? 
 
 'Such are the ingenuous, involuntary, and most legitimate 
 questions that humanity propounds to itself on^meeting with 
 the memorials and traditions of this movement in the past. 
 
 For a solution of these questions the common sense of hu- 
 manity looks to the science of history, the aim of which is to 
 teach the nations and humanity self-knowledge. 
 
 If history should assume the old point of view, it would 
 reply, " The Divinity, as a reward or as a punishment of his 
 people, gave power to Napoleon, and guided his will to the 
 accomplishment of the divine purposes." 
 
 And this reply would be, at any rate, full and clear. One 
 may or may not believe in the divine mission of Napoleon ; for 
 one who does believe in it everything in the history of that 
 time would be intelligible, and there would be no contra- 
 diction. 
 
 But the New History cannot reply in this way. bcience 
 does not recognize the view of the ancients .as to the direct 
 interference of the Divinity in human actions, and conse- 
 quently must give another reply. 
 
 The New History, in answering these questions, says, 
 t( You wish to know what the significance of this movement 
 was, why it took place, and what forces produced these events ? 
 Listen : 
 
 " Louis XIV. was a very proud and self-confident man ; 
 he had such and such mistresses, and such and such ministers, 
 and he governed France badly. 
 
 " The successors of Louis XIV. were also weak men, and 
 they also governed France badly, and they also had such and 
 such favorites, and such and such mistresses. 
 
 " Moreover, at that time, certain men wrote certain books. 
 " Toward the end of the eighteenth century, there came 
 together at Paris a score of men who began to declare that all 
 men were free and equal. The result of this was that all over 
 France men began to slaughter and ruin each other. These 
 men killed the king and many others. 
 
 " At this same time there was a man of genius, named Napo- 
 leon. He was everywhere successful ; that is to say, he killed 
 many people, because he was a great genius. 
 
 " And he went off to kill the Africans (for some reason or 
 , and he killed tfoem so well, aad was so sklW4 and
 
 320 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 clever, that, when he came back to France, he ordered every- 
 body to submit to him. 
 
 "And everybody submitted to him. 
 
 " Having made himself emperor, he again went off to kill 
 the people in Italy, Austria, and Prussia. 
 
 " And there he killed many. 
 
 " But in Russia there was the Emperor Alexander, who de- 
 termined to re-establish order in Europe, and, consequently, 
 he waged war with Napoleon. But in 1807 they suddenly 
 became friends, and in 1811 they quarrelled again, and again 
 they killed many people ; and Napoleon led six hundred thou- 
 sand men into Russia, and conquered Moscow, but afterwards 
 he suddenly fled from the city, and then the Emperor Alex- 
 ander, by the advice of Stein and others, united Europe into a 
 coalition against the disturber of the peace. 
 
 "All Napoleon's allies suddenly became his enemies, and 
 this coalition marched against Napoleon, who had got together 
 new forces. 
 
 " The allies defeated Napoleon ; they entered Paris ; they 
 compelled the emperor to abdicate the throne, and sent him to 
 the island of Elba, without depriving him of his dignities of 
 emperor, or failing to show him all possible respect, although 
 five years before and a year after that time all regarded him 
 as a bandit outside of the law. 
 
 " Then Louis XVIII. began to reign, though up to that 
 time the French, and also the allies, had only made sport of 
 him. 
 
 " Napoleon, having shed tears in presence of his old guard, 
 abdicated the throne and went into exile. 
 
 " Thereupon astute statesmen and diplomatists (especially 
 Talleyrand, who managed to anticipate another in sitting down 
 in a certain arm-chair, and thereby magnified the boundaries 
 of France) held a discussion at Vienna, and by their discus- 
 sions made nations happy or unhappy. 
 
 " Suddenly the diplomatists and monarchs almost quarrelled; 
 they were about to set their armies to killing each other again, 
 but, at this moment, Napoleon, with one battalion, came back 
 to France, and the French, who hated him, immediately all 
 submitted to him. 
 
 " But the allied monarchs were indignant at this, and once 
 more set out to fight with the French. 
 
 " And they defeated and sent Napoleon, the genius, calling 
 him a bandit, to the island of St. Helena. 
 
 " And there an exile, separated from those dear to his heart
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 and from his beloved France, he died a lingering death on the 
 rock, and bequeathed his great deeds to posterity. 
 
 Meanwhile, in Europe, a re-action was taking place, and all 
 the sovereigns began once more to oppress their peoples. _ 
 
 Think not that this is a parody or caricature of historical 
 writings. On the contrary, it is the mildest expression ot the 
 contradictory answers which fail to answer, and are given by 
 all History, whether in the form of Memoirs and histories ot 
 various kingdoms, or Universal Histories, and the new kind, 
 Histories of Culture, in vogue at the present time. 
 
 The strangeness and absurdity of these replies are due to 
 the fact that the New History is like a deaf man who answers 
 questions that no one has asked him. 
 
 If the object of history is to describe the movements of 
 nations -and of humanity, then for the first question, and the 
 one which, if left unanswered, makes all the rest unintelligi- 
 ble, an answer will be as follows : 
 
 " What force moves the nations ? " . , 
 
 To this question the New History replies elaborately either 
 
 that Napoleon was a great genius, or that Louis XIV. was 
 
 very proud, or that such and such writers published such and 
 
 such books. .. 
 
 All this may, perhaps, be very true, and humanity is ready 
 to assent, but it did not ask about that. 
 
 All this might be interesting if we acknowledge the divine 
 power, self-established, and always the same, which governs 
 its nations by means of Napoleons, Louises, and the writers, 
 but we do not recognize this power, and, therefore, before talk- 
 ing about Napoleons, Louises, and the writers, it is necessary 
 to show the connecting link between these men and the move- 
 ments of the nations. 
 
 If, in place of the divine power, a new force is to be substi- 
 tuted, then it is necessary to explain in what this new force 
 consists, since it is precisely in this force that all the interest 
 of history is concentrated. 
 
 History seems to take it for granted that this force is a 
 matter of course, known to all. But, in spite of all desire to 
 recognize this new force as known, he who studies very many 
 of the historical writings will, involuntarily, come to doubt; 
 whether this new force, which is understood in so many dit- 
 ferent ways, is wholly clear to the ulstorians themselves. 
 
 VOi. 4. 21.
 
 322 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 WHAT force moves the nations ? 
 
 Ordinary biographers and the historians of distinct nations 
 understand this force as the power inherent in heroes and 
 rulers. According to their writings, events take place exclu- 
 sively in accordance with the wills of the Napoleons and the 
 Alexanders, or, in general, of those individuals whom the pri- 
 vate biographer describes. 
 
 The answers given by historians of this class to the ques- 
 tion " What force moves events ? " are satisfactory only so 
 long as each event has but one historian. But so soon as histo- 
 rians of different nationalities and views begin to describe one 
 and the same event, then the answers given by them imme- 
 diately become nonsensical ; since this force is understood by 
 each one of them not merely in a different way, but often in 
 an absolutely contradictory way. 
 
 One historian affirms that an event took place by means of 
 the power of Napoleon ; another affirms that it took place by 
 means of the power of Alexander ; according to a third, it took 
 place by means of the power of some third person. 
 
 Moreover, the historians of this class contradict one another 
 even in their explanations of that force whereon is based the 
 power of one and the sam.e man. 
 
 Thiers, a Bonapartist, declares that Napoleon's power was 
 due to his virtue and genius. - Laiifrey, a Republican, declares 
 that it was due to his rascality and skill in deceiving the 
 people. 
 
 Thus the historians of this class, by mutually destroying 
 each other's position, in the same process destroy the con- 
 ception of force producing the events, and give no answer to 
 the essential question of history. 
 
 General historians, who treat of all nations, seem to recog- 
 nize the fallacy of the views held by the special historians in 
 regard to the force that produces the event. They will not 
 admit tfyat force to be a power inherent in heroes and rulers, 
 but consider it to be the result of many forces variously 
 applied. 
 
 In describing a war or the subjugation of a nation, the 
 general historian seeks for the cause of- the event, not in the 
 power of any one individual, but in the mutual influence upon 
 each other of many individuals who took part in the event.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 According to this view, the power of historical personages 
 who themselves represent the product of many forces, it would 
 reem cannot be regarded as the force which in itself produces 
 
 ' Andt the general historians, in the majority of cases, 
 make use of a concept of power as a force which in itself pro- 
 duces events and holds the relation to them of first cause. 
 
 According to their exposition, the historical personage is 
 only the product of various forces ; next, his power is a force 
 producing the event. 
 
 Gervinus and Schlosser, for example, and others try to prove 
 that Napoleon was the product of the Revolution of the ideas 
 of 1789, and so forth; and then they say up and down that 
 the campaign of '12, and other events which they disapprove 
 were simply the results of Napoleon's misdirected will, and 
 these very ideas of the year 1789 were hindered m their de- 
 velopment in consequence of Napoleon's opposition. 
 
 The ideas of the Revolution, the general state of public 
 opinion, brought about Napoleon's power and at the same 
 time Napoleon's power stifled the ideas of tne Revolution and 
 the general state of public opinion. . 
 
 This strange contradiction is not accidental. It is not only 
 arising at every step, but from a continuous series of such con- 
 tradictions all the writings of general history are composed. 
 This contradiction results from the fact that on getting into 
 the region of analysis the general historians stop half-way c 
 
 ' In order* to find the component force's equal to the combina- 
 tion or the resultant, it is necessary that the sum of the factors 
 should equal the resultant. . 
 
 This condition is never observed by the general historian, 
 and, therefore, in order to explain the resultant force, they 
 are necessarily compelled to admit in addition to their inade- 
 quate components a still unexplained force, which acts supple- 
 mentary to the resultant. 
 
 An ordinary historian describing the campaign of 1,3 or the 
 restoration of the Bourbons says in so many words that these 
 events were brought about by the will of Alexander. 
 
 But the general historian, Gervinus, refuting this view held 
 by the ordinary historian, endeavors to prove that the cam- 
 paign of '13 and the restoration of the Bourbons had for their 
 causes, not alone the will of Alexander but also the activity 
 of Stein, Metternich, Madame de Stael, Talleyrand, Fichte, 
 Chateaubriand, and others.
 
 324 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 The historian evidently resolved Alexander's power into its 
 factors : Talleyrand, Chateaubriand, and the like. The sum 
 of these factors, that is the mutual influence of Chateaubriand, 
 Talleyrand, Madame de Stae'l, and the others, evidently does 
 not equal the whole resultant : in other words, the phenome- 
 non that millions of the French submitted to the Bourbons. 
 
 From the fact that Chateaubriand, Madame de Stae'l, and 
 others said such and such words to each other show merely 
 their mutual relations, but not the submission of millions. 
 And, therefore, in Order to explain how from this fact of their 
 mutual relations resulted the submission of millions, that is 
 from factors equal to A alone comes a resultant equal to a 
 thousand times A, the historian is inevitably bound to admit 
 that same force of personal power, which he professes to reject, 
 by calling it the resultant of forces ; that is, he is bound to 
 admit an unexplained force acting upon the factors. 
 
 This is the very way in which the general historians reason. 
 And in consequence of this they contradict, not only the biog- 
 raphers, but themselves. 
 
 Inhabitants of the country districts judging by whether 
 they wish rain or fine weather, and having no clear compre- 
 hension of the causes of rain, say, "The wind has scattered 
 the clouds," or " The wind has brought the clouds." 
 
 In exactly the same way the general historians : sometimes, 
 when they want a certain thing, when it fits in with their 
 theory, they say that the power is the result of events ; but at 
 other times, when it is necessary to prove the opposite, they 
 will say that the power produces the events. 
 
 A third class of historians, called the historians of culture, 
 following on the track laid down for them by the general his- 
 torians, recognizing sometimes writers and ladies as forces 
 producing events, reckon this force in an entirely different 
 way still. They see it in so-called culture, in intellectual 
 activity. 
 
 The historians of culture are thoroughgoing partisans in 
 relation to their kinsfolk, the general historians, since if his- 
 torical events can be explained by the fact that certain men 
 had such and such ui effect upon one another, then why not 
 explain them by the fact that certain men wrote certain 
 books ? 
 
 These historians, from the whole monstrous collection of 
 manifestation accompanying every phenomenon of life, select 
 the manifestation of intellectual activity and say that this 
 manifestation is the cause !
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 325 
 
 But, notwithstanding all their endeavors to prove that the 
 cause of the event lay in intellectual activity, it is only by 
 great concessions that we can agree, that there is anything m 
 common between intellectual activity and the movements of 
 the nations, but we cannot admit in any case that intellectual 
 activity directs the activity of men, since such phenomena as 
 the cruel massacres of the French Revolution, which were the 
 outcome of the doctrine of the equality of men, and the wicked 
 wars and reprisals, which were the outcome of the doctrine 
 love, do not support this proposition. 
 
 But even admitting that all the ingenious hypotheses with 
 which these histories are filled are correct, admitting that the 
 nations are led by some undetermined force which is called 
 the idea, the essential question of history still remains unan- 
 swered, since to this original power of monarchs, and the influ- 
 ence of contemporaries and other individuals adduced by the 
 general historians, we must add still this new force of the 
 idea, the relation of which to the masses demands to be ex- 
 
 P We may grant that Napoleon had power and therefore an 
 event took place ; with some concessions, we may moreover 
 grant that Napoleon, together with other influences, was the 
 cause of ,an event ; but how the book Contrat Social influenced 
 the French to destroy each other cannot be understood with- 
 out an explanation of the connection between this new force 
 and the event. ,, , . 
 
 Undoubtedly, there exists a connection between all things 
 existing at the same time, and therefore there is a possibility 
 of finding some connection between the intellectual activity 
 of men and their historical movements, just as this connection 
 can be found between the movement of humanity and trade, 
 handicrafts, horticulture, and what not. 
 
 But why the intellectual activity of men furnishes the 
 historians of culture with the cause or the expression ot 
 every historical movement, it is hard to comprehend. Only 
 the following reasoning can bring historians to such a c 
 
 elusion : , ., . > 
 
 m That history is written by wise men, and it is natural 
 and agreeable for them to think that the activity of their 
 guild is the ruling element in the movement of all humanity, 
 lust as it is natural and agreeable for the merchant the agri- 
 culturist, the soldier, to think the same. (This fails to find 
 expression simply because merchants and soldiers do not 
 write histories.)
 
 326 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 And (2) that intellectual activity, enlightenment, civiliza- 
 tion, culture, the idea, all these things are indeterminate 
 concepts under which it js very convenient to employ words 
 still more vague and therefore easily adapted to any theory. 
 
 But, not to reckon the intrinsic value of this class of his- 
 tory (perhaps they may be useful for some people and for 
 some purposes), the histories of culture, to which all general 
 histories are beginning more and more to conform, are signifi- 
 cant for this reason, that in developing seriously and in 
 detail various religious, philosophical, and political doctrines, 
 as the causes of the events, every time when it becomes neces- 
 sary for them to describe some actual historical event, as, for 
 example, the campaign of '12, they involuntarily describe it 
 as the result of power, saying in so many words that this 
 campaign was the result of Napoleon's will ! 
 
 Speaking in this way, the historians of culture unwittingly 
 contradict themselves, or prove that the new force which they 
 have discovered does not explain historical events, but that 
 the only means of understanding history is to admit that 
 very same power which they affect to disclaim. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 A LOCOMOTIVE is in motion. 
 
 The question is asked, What makes it move ? 
 
 The peasant answers, 'Tis the devil moves it. 
 
 Another says that the locomotive goes because the wheels 
 are in motion. 
 
 A third affirms that the cause of the motion is to be found 
 in the smoke that is borne away by the wind. 
 
 The peasant sticks to his opinion. In order to refute him, 
 some one must prove to him that there is no devil, or an- 
 other peasant must explain to him that it is not the devil, but 
 a German, who makes the locomotive go. 
 
 Only then because of the contradictions will it be seen that 
 they cannot both be right. 
 
 But the one who says that the cause is the movement of 
 the wheels contradicts himself, since, if he enters into the 
 region of analysis, he must go further and further : he must 
 explain the cause of the motion of the wheels. And until he 
 finds the ultimate cause of the motion of the locomotive in 
 .the power of compressed steam, he will not have the right to 
 pause in his search for the cause.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 
 .he ta*. a b, , ' 
 
 individuals are written, -whether 
 
 Caesars ad Alexanders, or Luthers and 
 the histories of all, without a single 
 
 P Thi r s idea of Power is the only handle by means of which it 
 
 authors of u^versal histories and histories of c ^vihzaUon who 
 affect to renounce the idea of power, and yet, mevit 
 
 present time, in its rel^on to 
 
 ^ 
 
 bank noles^ They may pass and circulate 
 
 whether their value is assured.
 
 328 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 If only we forget the question how the will of heroes 
 brings about events, then the histories of the Thierses will be 
 interesting, instructive, and, moreover, will have a touch of 
 poetry. 
 
 But, just as doubt with regard to the actual value of bank 
 notes arises either from the fact that since it is so easy to 
 make them many of them are made, or because there is a gen- 
 eral desire to exchange them for gold, in exactly the same 
 way doubt concerning the actual significance of historical 
 works of this sort arises from the fact that they are too 
 numerous, or because some one, in the simplicity of his heart, 
 asks : " By what force was Napoleon able to do this ? " In 
 other words, wishes to have his bank notes exchanged for the 
 pure gold of the genuine concept. 
 
 General historians and the historians of culture are like 
 men who, recognizing the inconvenience of assignats, should 
 resolve, in place of paper, to make coin out of some metal 
 that had not the density of gold. And their money would 
 actually have the ring of metal, but that would be all. 
 
 Paper notes might deceive the ignorant, but coin w.hich is 
 spurious can deceive no one. 
 
 Now, as gold is only gold when it can be used, not merely 
 for exchange, but in practical business, so universal histories 
 will become gold only when they will be able to reply to the 
 essential question of history : " What is power ? " 
 
 Authors of universal histories contradict one another in 
 their replies to this question, and historians of culture ignore 
 it entirely and reply to something entirely different. 
 
 And as tokens resembling gold can only be used among 
 men who agree to take them for gold or who know not the 
 properties of gold, so the general historians and the historians 
 of culture who do not respond to the essential questions of 
 history have currency only at the universities and among 
 the throng of readers who are fond of " serious books," as 
 they call them. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 HAVING renounced the views of the ancients as to the 
 divinely ordained submission of the will of the people to 
 the one chosen man, and the submission of this one will to 
 the Divinity, history cannot take another step without being 
 involved in contradictions unless it make choice between two
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 329 
 
 alternatives; either to return to the former belief m the 
 immediate interference of the Divinity in human affairs, or 
 definitely to explain the meaning of this force which produces 
 historical events, and is known as Power. 
 
 To return to the first is impossible ; the belief has been 
 overthrown, and therefore it is necessary to explain the mean- 
 
 ins of Power. , , ,-, 
 
 Napoleon gave orders to raise an army and go out to battle. 
 This notion is so familiar to us, we have become to such a 
 degree wonted to this view of things, that the question why 
 six hundred thousand men should go to war because Napoleon 
 said such and such words seems to- us foolish 
 power, and consequently his orders were obeyed. 
 
 This answer is perfectly satisfactory if we believe that the 
 power was given to him by God. But, as soon as we deny it, 
 we must decide what that power is that one man has ovei 
 
 T 6 hat power cannot be the direct power of the physical 
 superiority of a strong being over the weak, -a superiority 
 based on the application or threatened application of Physical 
 force-like the power of Hercules. It cannot be founded 
 either on the superiority of moral f ^ce though certain histo- 
 rians, in the simplicity of their hearts, declare that historical 
 actors are the heroes; that is, men gifted with peculiar force 
 of soul and intellect, called genius. 
 
 This Power cannot be based upon the superiority of moral 
 force, since, without speaking of heroes like Napoleon con- 
 cerning whose moral qualities opinions are completely at 
 variance, history shows us that neither the Louis Xlths, nor 
 the Metternichs, who governed millions of men, had any spe- 
 cial qualities of moral force, but, on the contrary, were, for 
 the most part, morally weaker than any one of the millions c 
 men whom they ruled. . , 
 
 If the source of Power lies in neither the physical nor the 
 moral qualities of the individual exercising it, then evidently 
 - the source of this power must be found outside the individ- 
 ual, in those relations between the masses governed and 
 the individual possessing the Power. . 
 
 In exactly this way, Power is understood by the science ot 
 Law the self-same bank of exchange of history which promises 
 to change the historical concepts of Power into pure gold. 
 ' Power is the accumulation of the wills of the masses, trans- 
 ferred avowedly or tacitly to the rulers chosen by the masses 
 In the domain of the science of Law which is composed ot
 
 330 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 dissertations on the requisite methods of building up a State 
 and Power, if it were possible to do all this, this explanation 
 is all very clear ; but in its application to history this defini- 
 tion of Power demands explanation. 
 
 The science of Law regards a State and Power as the an- 
 cients regarded fire, as something existing absolutely. For 
 History the State and Power are only phenomena, just as in 
 the same way as for the " Physics " of our day fire is not an 
 element but a phenomenon. 
 
 From this fundamental divergence of view between History 
 and the Science of Law, it follows that Science of Law can 
 relate in detail how iiv its opinion it would be necessary to 
 build up Power, and what Power is existing immovably out- 
 side of time ; but to the historical questions about the signifi- 
 cance of Power modified by time it can give no reply. 
 
 If Power is the accumulation of wills transferred to a ruler, 
 then is Pugachof the representative of the wills of the masses ? 
 If he is not, then why is Napoleon I. such a representative ? 
 Why was Napoleon III., when he was apprehended at Bou- 
 logne, a criminal, and why were those whom he afterwards 
 apprehended criminals ? 
 
 In palace revolutions, in which sometimes two or three men 
 only take part, is the will of the masses also transferred to 
 the new monarch ? 
 
 In international relations, is the will of the masses of the 
 people transferred to their conqueror ? 
 
 In 1808 was the will of the Rhine Convention transferred 
 to Napoleon ? 
 
 Was the will of the Russian people transferred to Napoleon 
 in 1809 when our troops, in alliance with the French, went to 
 fight against Austria ? 
 
 These questions may be answered in three ways : 
 
 (1) By acknowledging that the will of the masses is 
 always unconditionally handed over to this or that ruler 
 whom they have chosen, and that consequently every out- 
 break of new power, every struggle against the Power once 
 given over, must be regarded as an infringement of the real 
 Power ; 
 
 Or (2), by acknowledging that the will of the masses is 
 transferred to the rulers conditionally, under known and defi- 
 nite conditions, and by showing that all assaults, collisions, 
 and even the destruction of Power, proceed from non-fulfil- 
 ment of the conditions under which the Power was given to 
 them 5 

 
 WAR AND PEACE. 331 
 
 Or (3), by acknowledging that the will of the masses is 
 transferred to the rulers conditionally, but under unknown 
 and undefined conditions, and that the outbreak of many new 
 Powers, their conflict and fall, arise only from the more or 
 less complete 'fulfilment of those unknown conditions accord- 
 ing to which the will of the masses was transferred from 
 some individuals to others. 
 
 In these three ways the historians explain the relations of 
 the masses to their rulers. 
 
 Some historians, not comprehending in the simplicity of 
 their souls the question of the meaning of Power, the 
 same ordinary and " biographical historians " of whom men- 
 tion has been made above, seem to acknowledge that the 
 accumulated will of the masses is transferred unconditionally 
 to the historical personages, and therefore, in describing any 
 Power whatever, these historians suppose that this self-same 
 Power is the one absolute and genuine, and that any other 
 force rising in opposition to this genuine Power is not a 
 Power, but a breach of Power violence ! 
 
 Their theory, satisfactory for the primitive and simple 
 periods of history, when it comes to be applied to the compli- 
 cated and stormy periods in the life of the nations, during 
 which simultaneously various Powers rise up and struggle 
 together, has the disadvantage that the legitimist historian 
 will try to prove that the Convention, the Directory, and Bona- 
 parte were only infringements of Power, while the Republican 
 and Bonapartist will try to prove, the one that the Conven- 
 tion, and the other that the Empire, was the genuine Power, 
 and that all the rest were only infringements of Power. 
 
 Evidently since the explanations of Power given by these 
 historians mutually contradict each other, they can prove 
 satisfactory only for children of the tenderest growth ! 
 
 A second class of historians, recognizing the fallacy of this 
 view of history, says that Power is founded on the conditional 
 transfer of the accumulated wills of the masses to the rulers, 
 and that historical personages have the Power only on con- 
 dition of carrying out the program which with tacit con- 
 sent has been prescribed by the will of the nation. But what 
 goes to make up this program, these historians fail to tell 
 us, or, if they tell us, they constantly contradict one another. 
 
 To every historian, according to his view of what consti- 
 tutes the object of the movement of the nations, this pro- 
 gram presents itself in the grandeur, liberty, enlightenment, 
 of the citizens of France or some other State,
 
 832 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 But not to speak of the contradictions of the historians, or 
 of what this program is, even granting the existence of one 
 program common to all, still the facts of history almost uni- 
 versally contradict this theory. 
 
 If the conditions under which Power is granted consist in 
 riches, liberty, the enlightenment of the nation, why, then, 
 were the Louis XlVths and Ivan IVths * allowed to live 
 to the end of their reigns, while the Louis XVIths and 
 Charles Ists were put to death by their nations ? 
 
 These historians answer this question by saying that the 
 activity of Louis XIV., being contrary to the program, met 
 with its punishment in the person of Louis XVI. 
 
 But why was the punishment not visited upon Louis XIV. 
 and Louis XV. ? Why should it have been visited especially 
 upon Louis XVI.? And what is the length of time required 
 for such a visitation ? 
 
 To these questions there is and can be no answer. In the 
 same way this view fails to explain the cause of the fact that 
 the accumulated will of the people for several centuries is 
 preserved by the rulers and their successors, and then sud- 
 denly, in the course of fifty years, is transferred to the Con- 
 vention, to the Directory, to Napoleon, to Alexander, to Louis 
 XVIII., to Napoleon again, to Charles X., to Louis Philippe, 
 to the republican administration, to Napoleon III. 
 
 In their explanations of these rapidly occurring transfers 
 of will from one individual to another, and especially in 
 international relations, conquests, and treaties, these his- 
 torians must, in spite of themselves, acknowledge that a part 
 of these phenomena are not regular transfers of will, but 
 accidental chances, dependent now upon cunning, now upon 
 the mistakes or the deceitfulness or the weakness of diplo- 
 mat or monarch or party director. 
 
 So that the greater part of the phenomena of history 
 civil wars, revolutions, conquests appear to these historians 
 certainly not as the products of the transfers of free wills, 
 but as the products of the misdirected will of one man or 
 several men, in other words, again infringements of Power. 
 
 And consequently historical events, even to historians of 
 this class, appear as exceptions to the theory. 
 
 These historians are like a botanist who, observing that 
 
 certain plants come from seeds with dicotyledonous leaves, 
 
 should insist upon it that everything that grew must grow in 
 
 this bifoliate form, and that the palm and the mushroom and 
 
 * loann or Ivan the Terrible, of Russia, reigned from 1546 till 1584
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 333 
 
 even the oak, which develop to their full growth and have no 
 more resemblance to the dicotyledons, are exceptions to their 
 theory. 
 
 A third class of historians acknowledge that the will of the 
 masses is conditionally transferred to the historical person- 
 ages, but assert that these conditions are not known to us. 
 They say that the historical characters possess the power 
 simply because they have to fulfil the will of the masses, which 
 has been transferred to them. 
 
 But in such a case, if the force that moves the nations is 
 not inherent in the historical individuals, but in the nations 
 themselves, then what constitutes the significance of these 
 historical personages ? 
 
 Historical personages, these historians say, are in them- 
 selves the expression of the will of the masses ; the activity 
 of the historical personages serves as the representative of 
 the activity of the masses. 
 
 But in this case the question arises : Does all the activity of 
 the historical characters serve as the expression of the will 
 of the masses, or only a certain side of it ? 
 
 If all the activity of historical personages serves as the 
 expression of the will of the masses, as some think, then 
 the biographies of the Napoleons, the Catherines, with all the 
 details of court gossip, serve as the expression of the life of 
 the nations, which is evidently absurd. 
 
 If only one side of the activity of the historical personage 
 serves as the expression of the life of the nations, as is 
 thought by other, so-called philosopher-historians, then in 
 order to determine what side of the activity of the historical 
 personage expresses the life of the nation, it is necessary first 
 to determine what constitutes the life of the nation. 
 
 Having met with this difficulty, the historians of this sort 
 have invented a most obscure, intangible, and general expla- 
 nation, under which to bring the greatest possible quantity of 
 events, and they say that this abstraction covers the object of 
 the movements of humanity. The most ordinary abstractions 
 which are selected by the historians, almost without excep- 
 tion, are : liberty, equality, enlightenment, progress, civiliza- 
 tion, culture. 
 
 Having thus established as the object of the movement of 
 humanity some abstraction or other, the historians study the 
 men who have left behind them the greatest quantity of 
 memorials tsars, ministers, commanders, authors, reformers, 
 popes, journalists, according as these personages, in their
 
 334 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 judgment, have contributed to help or to oppose the given 
 abstraction. 
 
 But since it has not been shown by any one that the object 
 of humanity consisted in liberty, equality, enlightenment, or 
 civilization, and as the connection of the masses with the rulers 
 and propagators of enlightenment of humanity is based only 
 on an arbitrary assumption, that the accumulation of the wills 
 of the masses is always transferred to those individuals who 
 are known to us, therefore the activity of millions of men, 
 who are inarching forth, burning houses, abandoning agricul- 
 ture, exterminating each other, is never expressed in the 
 description of the activity of a dozen men who have never 
 burned houses, had nothing to do with agriculture, and did 
 not kill their fellow-men. 
 
 History shows this at every step. 
 
 Can the fermentation of the nations of the west at the 
 end of the last century, and their eager rush towards the 
 east, be expressed in the activity of Louis XIV., Louis XV., 
 or Louis XVI., or their mistresses, their ministers, or in the 
 lives of Napoleon, Kousseau, Diderot, Beaurnarchais, and the 
 others ? 
 
 Was the movement of the Russian people toward the east, 
 to Kazan and Siberia, expressed in the details of the sickly 
 character of Ivan IV. and his correspondence with Kurbsky ? 
 
 Is the movement of the nations at the time of the crusades 
 explained in the life and activity of the Godfreys and the St. 
 Louises and their ladies ? For us still incomprehensible re- 
 mains what it was that moved the nations from west to 
 east, without any object, without leadership, a crowd of 
 vagrants, with Peter the Hermit. 
 
 And still more incomprehensible remains the discontinuance 
 of that movement at a time when the reasonable and holy 
 object of the crusades the liberation of Jerusalem was so 
 clearly set forth by the historical agents. Popes, kings, and 
 knights incited the people to rally for the liberation of the 
 Holy Land ; but the people would not go, for the reason that 
 the unknown cause which before had incited them to the 
 movement was no longer in existence. 
 
 The history of the Godfreys and the Minnesingers evi- 
 dently cannot in itself express the life of the nations. And 
 the histories of the Godfreys and the Minnesingers remain the 
 history of the Godfreys and the Minnesingers, while the his- 
 tory of the lives of the nations and their mainsprings of 
 action remain unknown.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 335 
 
 Still less is the life of the nations explained for us by the 
 histories of authors and reformers. 
 
 The history of culture explains for us the awakening of 
 the conditions of life and the thoughts of writers and re- 
 formers. We learn that Luther had an irascible nature and 
 uttered such and such sayings ; we learn that Rousseau was a 
 sceptic and wrote such and such books, but we know not 
 why, after the Reformation, men cut each other's throats, or 
 why, at the time of the French Revolution, they put each 
 other to death. If these two kinds of history are welded 
 together, as some of the most recent historians have done, it 
 will still be the histories of monarchs and writers, but not the 
 history of the life of the nations. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE life of the nations cannot be summarized in the lives 
 of a few men, for the bond connecting such persons with the 
 nations has not been discovered. The theory that this bond 
 of union is based upon the will of the masses transferred to 
 historical personages is an hypothesis not confirmed by the 
 experience of history. 
 
 The theory of the transference of the will of the masses to 
 the historical personages, perhaps, explains many things in 
 the domain of Law, and is very possibly essential for its objects, 
 but in relation to history, as soon as revolutions, civil wars, 
 conquests make their appearance, as soon as history begins, 
 this theory no longer explains anything. 
 
 This theory seems to be irrefutable, simply because the act 
 of transference of -the will of the nation cannot be verified, 
 since it never existed. 
 
 No matter what the event may be, or what personage may 
 stand at the head of it, theory can always say that the per- 
 sonage in question was at the head of the affairs for the rea- 
 son that the accumulated will of the masses was transferred 
 to him. 
 
 The answers afforded by this theory to historical questions 
 are like the answers of a man who, watching a herd of cattle 
 moving about, and not taking into consideration the varying 
 quality of the feed in different parts of the field or the whip 
 of the drover, should attribute their movement in this or that 
 direction to the animal at the head of the herd. 
 
 " The herd go in that direction because the animal at the
 
 836 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 head leads them there, and the accumulated will of all the 
 other animals is transferred to this leader of the herd." 
 
 Thus reply the first class of historians those who believe 
 in the unconditional transference of power. 
 
 " If the animals moving at the head of the herd change their 
 direction, it is because the accumulated will of all the animals 
 is transferred from one leader to another according as this or 
 that animal conducts them in the direction chosen by the 
 herd." 
 
 Thus reply the historians who hold that the accumulated 
 will of the masses is transferred to rulers under certain condi- 
 tions which they consider indeterminate. (In such a method 
 of observation it would often come about that the observer, 
 drawing his conclusions from the direction taken by the herd, 
 would consider certain animals at the side or even at the rear 
 as the leaders, owing to changes of direction taken wholly by 
 chance !) 
 
 " If the animals at the head of the herd constantly change 
 about, and if the course of the whole herd constantly varies, 
 it is from the fact that, in order to attain the direction which 
 we observed, the animals transfer their will to those other 
 animals observed by us ; and, in order to study the move- 
 ments of the herd, we must study all the animals under whose 
 influence the herd is led from side to side." 
 
 Thus argue the historians of the third class, who believe 
 that all historical personages, from monarchs to journalists, 
 are the expressions of their own time. 
 
 The theory of the will of the masses being transferred to 
 historical personages is merely a periphrase only the ques- 
 tion expressed in other words ! 
 
 What is the cause of historical events ? Power. 
 
 "What is power ? 
 
 Power is the accumulated wills of the masses transferred 
 to a given personage. 
 
 Under what conditions are the wills of the masses trans- 
 ferred to a given personage ? 
 
 On condition that the personage- expresses the will of the 
 masses. 
 
 That is, Power is Power. That is, Power is a word, the 
 meaning of which is incomprehensible to us. 
 
 If all human knowledge were comprehended within the 
 domain of abstract reasoning, then humanity, having subjected 
 to criticism the idea of Power which science gives, would come
 
 WAR AXD PEACE. 337 
 
 to the conclusion that Power is only a word, and does not 
 exist, in reality, at all. 
 
 For the knowledge of phenomena, however, man has besides 
 abstract reasoning the tool of experience, by which he tests 
 the results of reasoning. And experience declares that Power 
 is not a mere word, but a thing actually existing. 
 
 Aside from the fact that without the concept of Power it is 
 impossible to describe the united action of men, the existence 
 of Power is proven, not only by history, but by the observation 
 of contemporary events. 
 
 Always, when an historical event takes place, there appears 
 one man or several men, in accordance with whose will the 
 event apparently took place. 
 
 Napoleon III. gives his orders, and the French go to Mexico. 
 
 The King of Prussia and Bismarck give their orders, and 
 the troops enter Bohemia. 
 
 Napoleon I. gives his orders, and the troops march into 
 Russia. 
 
 Alexander I. gives his orders, and the French submit to the 
 Bourbons. 
 
 Experience shows us that whatever event has come to pass 
 is always connected with the will of one man or several rnen ? 
 who gave the commands. 
 
 Historians who, according to the old custom, recognize the 
 participation of the Divinity in the affairs of humanity, try 
 to find the cause of an event in the expression of the will of 
 the individual who is clothed with the Power, but this conclu- 
 sion is confirmed neither by reason nor by experience. 
 
 On the one hand, reason shows us that the expression of 
 the will of a man his words is but a part of the general 
 activity expressed in an event, for example, a war or a revolu- 
 tion j and, therefore, without the acknowledgment of the exist- 
 ence of an incomprehensible, supernatural force a miracle 
 it is impossible to grant that mere words can be the proximate 
 cause of the movement of millions of men ; on the other hand, 
 if we grant that words can be the cause of an event, then his- 
 tory proves that in many cases the expression of the will of 
 historical personages has been productive of no effect what- 
 ever that is, not only have their decrees been often dis- 
 obeyed, but sometimes the exact opposite of what they ordered 
 has' been brought to pass. 
 
 Unless we grant that the Divinity participates in human 
 affairs, we cannot regard Power as the cause of events. 
 
 Power, from the standpoint of experience, is merely the 
 VOL. 4. 22.
 
 338 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 relationship existing between the expressed will of the indi- 
 vidual and the accomplishment of that will by other men. 
 
 To explain the conditions of this relationship, we must first 
 of all establish the idea of the expression of will by referring 
 it to man and not to the Divinity. 
 
 If the Divinity gives commands, expresses his will, as the 
 history written by the ancients would have us believe, then 
 the expression of this will is not dependent upon time, or con- 
 ditioned by any determining cause, since the Divinity is 
 wholly aloof from the event. 
 
 But when we speak of decrees as the expression of the will 
 of men who, in their acts, are subject to time and dependent 
 upon one another, in order to understand the connection be- 
 tween decrees and events, we must establish : 
 
 1. The condition under which everything happens : con- 
 tinuity in time of action, both of the historical movement 
 and the person who gives the command ; and 
 
 2. The condition of the inevitable connection between the 
 personage who gives the command and the men who carry out 
 his command. 
 
 CHAPTEK VI. 
 
 ONLY the expression of the will of the Divinity, which is 
 independent of time, can be related to the whole series of 
 events extending over a few years or centuries, and only the 
 Divinity, which is unconditioned by anything, can by its own 
 will alone determine the direction of the movements of hu- 
 manity ; man, however, acts in time, and himself participates 
 in events. 
 
 Having established the first neglected condition the con- 
 dition of Time we shall see that no command can be 
 executed' without the existence of some previous command, 
 making the fulfilment of the latter possible. 
 
 A command is never a spontaneous utterance, and it never 
 includes in itself a whole series of events ; but each command 
 has its source in another, and is never related to a whole series 
 of events, but only to the one moment of the event. 
 
 When we say, for instance, that Napoleon commanded his 
 armies to go to war, we combine in one simultaneous expres- 
 sion, " command," a series of consecutive orders, dependent 
 one upon another. 
 
 Napoleon could never have decreed the campaign to Russia, 
 and he never did decree it.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 He eave orders one day to write such and such letters to 
 Vienna 5 to Berlin, and to Petersburg ; the next day certain 
 decrees and " orders " to the army the navy, and the = - 
 t, and so on and so on, miiii 
 
 t o s o 
 
 forming a series of commands corresponding to a series o 
 events, which brought the Trench army into Russia. 
 
 If Napoleon throughout the whole course of his reign con- 
 tinues to issue commands concerning the expedition against 
 England, and if on no single one of his designs he wastes so 
 much time and energy, and yet during the whole Bourse of his 
 reign not once attempts to carry out his intention, but ; makes 
 the g expedition to Russia, with which, as he ex Passed himse 
 repeatedly he considered it advantageous to be in alliance, 
 then this results from the fact that the first orders do not cor- 
 respond to any series of events, whereas the second do 
 
 In order that a command should be genuinely carried out, it 
 is necessary that a man should express an order that can be 
 carded out To know what can and what cannot be carried 
 out impossible, not merely in case of a Napoleonic expedi- 
 tion against Russia in which millions participate but even m 
 the simplest event: since for the accomplishment of the one 
 or the other, millions of obstacles may be encountered. 
 
 For every command that is carried out, there are always 
 enormous numbers that are not carried out. 
 
 All infeasible commands have no connection with the event, 
 and are not carried out. Only those which are feasible be- 
 come connected with consecutive series of commands accom- 
 panying whole series of events, and are carried out. 
 
 . Our false conception that the command P"#'*A^ 
 is the cause of the event, arises from the fact that when an 
 event has taken place, and only those out of a thousand com- 
 mands which are connected with the event are carried out, we 
 forget those which were not carried out because they c 
 
 ^Mterfthfchief source of . our error in this way of 
 thinking arises from the fact that in historical narratives a 
 whole series of numberless, various, petty events, as, for exam- 
 pie, what brought the French armies into Russia are general- 
 ized into one event according to the result which proceeded 
 from this series of events, and, corresponding with this gener- 
 alization, the whole series of commands is also generalize 
 into one expression of will. . 
 
 We say : Napoleon wished and made an expedition against 
 
 Russia.
 
 840 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 In reality, we never find in all Napoleon's career anything 
 like the expression of this will, but we find a series of com- 
 mands or expressions of his will in the most varied and inde- 
 terminate sort of direction. 
 
 Out of the numberless series of Napoleonic decrees that 
 were never executed proceeded a series of commands concern- 
 ing the campaign of '12 that were executed, not because these 
 commands were in any respect different from the other com- 
 mands that were not executed, but because the series of these 
 commands coincided with a series of events which brought 
 the French army into Russia, just as by a stencil this or that 
 figure is designed, not because it makes any difference on what 
 side or how the color is applied, but because the color was 
 smeared over the whole side, including the figure that had 
 been cut out of the stencil plate. 
 
 So that, by considering the relation of the commands to the 
 events in time, we shall find that in no case can the command 
 be the cause of the event, but that between the two exists a 
 certain definite connection. 
 
 In order to comprehend what this connection is, it is neces- 
 sary to establish a second neglected condition of every com- 
 mand that proceeds, not from the Divinity, but from a man ; 
 and this is the fact that the man who gives the command must 
 himself be a participant in the event. 
 
 This relationship between the person giving the command 
 and the one to whom the command is given is precisely that 
 which is called Power. 
 
 This relationship consists in the following : 
 
 In order to undertake action in common, men always form 
 themselves into certain groups in which, notwithstanding the 
 variety of the objects which impel them to united action, the 
 relation between the men who participate in the action is 
 always the same. 
 
 Having united into these groups, men always establish 
 among themselves such a relationship that the greater num- 
 ber of the men take the greatest direct part, and the smaller 
 number take the smallest direct part, in the mutual action for 
 which they have united their forces. 
 
 Of all such groups into which men have ever joined them- 
 selves for the accomplishment of a common activity, the most 
 definite and clearly defined is the army. 
 
 Every army is composed of the lower members, " the rank 
 and file " in military parlance, the privates, who always form 
 the majority ; then of those who in military parlance hold higher
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 341 
 
 rank corporals, non-commissioned officers, less in number 
 than the first ; then those still higher, the number of whom 
 is still less, and so on up to the highest power of all, which is 
 concentrated in a single individual. 
 
 The organization of an army may be expressed with periect 
 accuracy under the figure of a cone, in which the base, having 
 the greatest diameter, is represented by the privates, the 
 higher and smaller plane sections representing the higher 
 ranks of the army, and so on up to the very top of the cone, 
 the apex of which will be represented by the commander-m- 
 
 chief. 
 
 The soldiers forming the majority constitute the lowest por- 
 tion of the cone and its base. The soldier himself directly 
 does the killing, burning, pillaging, and always receives com- 
 mands from those who stand above him; he himself never 
 gives commands. 
 
 The non-commissioned officer the number of non-commis- 
 sioned officers is still less more seldom than the soldier 
 takes part in these acts, but he gives commands. 
 
 The officer still more rarely takes part in the action him- 
 self, and gives orders still more frequently. 
 
 The general only commands the troops to march, and tells 
 
 them where they are to go, but he almost never uses weapons. 
 
 The commander-in-chief never can take a direct part in the 
 
 action itself, but merely issues general dispositions concerning 
 
 the movements of the masses. 
 
 The same mutual relationship of individuals is to be noted 
 in every union of men for common activity in agriculture, 
 trade, and in every other enterprise. 
 
 Thus, without elaborately carrying out all the complicated 
 divisions of the cone and the grades of the army or of any 
 calling and establishment of any kind whatever, or of any 
 mutual business, from highest to lowest, the law everywhere 
 holds by which men, for the accomplishment of mutual activi- 
 ties, join together in such a relationship that in proportion as 
 they take a greater direct share in the actual work, and the more 
 they are in numbers, the less they give orders, and in propor- 
 tion as they take a less direct part in the work itself, the more 
 they give orders, and the fewer they are ; thus passing up 
 from the lowest strata to the one man standing alone, taking 
 the smallest possible part in the work, and more than all the 
 others directing his activity to the giving of commands. 
 
 This relationship of the individuals who command to those 
 who are commanded is the very essence of the concept which 
 we call Power.
 
 342 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 Having established the conditions in time under which all 
 events are accomplished, we have found that the command is 
 executed only when it bears some relation to the correspond- 
 ing series of events. 
 
 Having established the inevitable condition of the connec- 
 tion between the commander and the commanded, we have 
 found that by its very nature those who most issue the com- 
 mands take the least part in the event itself, and that their 
 activity is exclusively directed toward commanding. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 WHEN any event whatever is taking place, men express 
 their various opinions and wishes concerning the event, and, 
 as the event proceeds from the united action of many men, 
 some one of the expressed opinions or wishes is sure to be 
 executed, even though it may be approximately. 
 
 When one of the opinions expressed is fulfilled, this opinion 
 seems to be connected with the event as a command preceding 
 it. 
 
 ; Men are dragging along a beam. Each expresses his opin- 
 ions as to how and where it should be dragged. They drag 
 the beam to its destination, and it is shown that it has been 
 done in accordance with what one of them said. 
 
 He gave the command. 
 
 Here the command and the power are seen in their primi- 
 tive form. 
 
 The man who labored hardest with his arms could not so 
 well think what he was doing, or be able to consider what would 
 be the result of the common activity, or to command. 
 
 The one who gave the most commands could, by reason of 
 his activity with his words, evidently do less with his arms. 
 
 In a large concourse of men who are directing their activity 
 to one end, still more sharply defined is the class of those 
 who, in proportion as they take a less active part in the gene- 
 ral business, direct their activity all the more toward giving 
 commands. 
 
 A man, when he acts alone, always carries with him a cer- 
 tain series of considerations which seem to him to have guided 
 his past activity, and serve to facilitate his activity at the mo- 
 ment, and to assist him in his plans for his future enterprises. 
 
 In exactly the same way assemblages of men act, leaving 
 those wbo take no part in the actual work to do their thinking
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 343 
 
 for them, and to justify their operations, and to make their 
 plans for their future activity. 
 
 " For reasons known or unknown to us, the French suddenly 
 bein to ruin and murder each other, and the justification of 
 it is found in the expressed will of the people, who declare 
 that this was essential for the well-being of France, for liberty, 
 for equality ! _ . 
 
 The French cease to murder each other, and the justification 
 of it is found in the necessity for the unity of Power, for re- 
 sistance to Europe and the like. 
 
 Men march from the west to the east, killing their iellow- 
 men, and this event is accompanied by the words : "the 
 glory of France," " the humiliation of England," and the like. 
 3 History shows us that these justifications of events have no 
 common sense, are mutually contradictory, like the murder of 
 a man in consequence of the acknowledgment of his rights, 
 and the massacre of millions in Russia for the humiliation of 
 England. But these justifications have a necessary signifi- 
 cance at the time they are made. 
 
 These justifications release the men who brought these 
 events about from moral responsibility. These temporary 
 objects are like the cow-catchers, which serve to clear the road 
 along the rails in front of the train : they clear the road of 
 the moral responsibility of men. 
 
 Without these justifications we could not answer the sim- 
 plest questions which stand in the way of the examination of 
 every event: "How did millions of men commit wholesale 
 crimes wars, massacres, and the like ? " 
 
 Would it be possible in the present complicated forms of 
 political and social life in Europe to find any event whatever 
 that would not have been predicted, prescribed, ordained, by 
 sovereigns, ministers, parliaments, newspapers ? Could there 
 be any united action which would not find justification for 
 itself in National Unity, in the Balance of Europe, in Civiliza- 
 tion ? 
 
 So that every accomplished event inevitably corresponds to 
 some expressed wish, and, having found justification for itself, 
 appears as the fulfilment of the will of one or several men. 
 
 When a ship moves, whatever may be her course, there will 
 always be visible, in front of the prow, a ripple of the sun- 
 dered waves. For the men who are on board of the ship the 
 movement of this ripple would be the only observable motion. 
 
 Only by observing closely, moment by moment, the move- 
 ment of this ripple, and comparing this movement with the
 
 344 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 motion of the ship, can we persuade ourselves that each mo- 
 ment of the movement of the ripple is determined by the 
 motion of the ship, and that we were led into error by the 
 very fact that we ourselves were imperceptibly moving. 
 
 We see the same thing in following, moment by moment, 
 the motion of historical personages (that is, by establishing 
 the necessary condition of everything that is accomplished 
 the condition of uninterrupted motion in time) and by 
 not losing from sight the inevitable connection of historical 
 personages with the masses. 
 
 Whatever has happened, it always seems that this very 
 thing has been predicted and pre-ordained. In whatever direc- 
 tion the ship moves, the ripple, which does not guide or even 
 condition its movement, boils in front of her, and will seem, 
 to an observer at a distance, not only to be spontaneously 
 moving, but even directing the movement of the ship. 
 
 Historians, regarding only those expressions of the will of 
 historical personages which bore to events the relation of com- 
 mands, have supposed that events are dependent upon com- 
 mands. 
 
 Eegarding the events themselves, and that connection with 
 the masses by which historical personages have been bound, 
 we have discovered that historical personages and their com- 
 mands are dependent on the events. 
 
 An undoubted proof of this deduction is given by the fact 
 that, no matter how many commands are uttered, the event 
 will not take place if there be no other causes for it ; but so 
 soon as any event no matter what it is is accomplished, 
 then out of the number of all the continuously expressed wills 
 of the various individuals, there will be found some which 
 in meaning and time will bear to the event the relation of 
 commands. 
 
 In coming to this conclusion, we are able to give a direct 
 and circumstantial reply to the two essential questions of his- 
 tory, 
 
 (1) What is Power ? 
 
 (2) What force causes the movement of the nations ? 
 
 (1) Power is a relationship established between a certain 
 person and other persons, in virtue of which this person, in 
 inverse proportion to the part which he takes in action, ex- 
 presses opinions, suppositions, and justifications concerning the 
 common action to be accomplished. 
 
 (2) The movement of the nations is due, not to Power nor
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 345 
 
 to intellectual activity, nor even to a union of the two, as 
 some of the historians have thought, but to the activity ot aU 
 the men who took part in the event, and who always group 
 themselves together in such a way that those who take tne 
 greatest direct share in the event assume the least responsi- 
 bility, and vice versa. 
 
 In the moral relation Power is the cause of the event ; m 
 the physical relation it is those who submit to the Power. 
 But since moral activity is meaningless without physical ac- 
 tivity, therefore the cause of an event is found neither in the 
 one nor in the other, but in a combination of the two. 
 
 Or, in other words, the concept of a cause is inapplicable to 
 the phenomenon which we are regarding. 
 
 In last analysis we reach the circle of Eternity, to that ulti- 
 mate limit to which in every domain of thought the human 
 intellect must come, unless it is playing with its subject. 
 
 Electricity produces heat ; heat produces electricity. Atoms 
 attract each other ; atoms repel each other. j > 
 
 Speaking of the reciprocal action of heat and electricity 
 and about the atoms, we cannot say why this is so, but we say 
 that it is, because it is unthinkable in any other way, because 
 it must be so, because it is a law. 
 
 The same holds true about historical phenomena. 
 
 Why are there wars or revolutions ? We know not ; we 
 only know that for the accomplishment of this or that action 
 men band together into a certain group in which all take a share, 
 and we say that this is so because it is unthinkable otherwise, 
 that it is a law. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 IF history had to do with external phenomena, the estab- 
 lishment of this simple and evident law would be sufficient, 
 and we might end our discussion. 
 
 But the law of history relates to man. A particle of matter 
 cannot tell us at all that it is unconscious of the attraction or 
 repulsion of force, and that it is not true. 
 
 Man, however, who is the object of history, declares stoutly, 
 "I am free, and therefore I am not subjected to laws." 
 
 The presence of the question of the freedom of the will, 
 though not acknowledged, is felt at every step in history. 
 
 All serious-minded historians have had, in spite of them- 
 selves, to face this question. All the contradictions, the o1>
 
 846 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 scurities of history, that false route by which this science has 
 travelled, are based upon the impossibility of solving this 
 question. 
 
 If the will of every man were free, that is, if every one could 
 do as he pleased, then history would be a series of discon- 
 nected chances. 
 
 If even one man out of millions, during a period of thou- 
 sands of years, had the power of acting freely, that is, in con- 
 formity with his own wishes, then evidently the free action of 
 that man, being an exception to the laws ? would destroy the 
 possibility of the existence of any laws whatever for all 
 humanity. 
 
 If there were one single law which directed the activities of 
 men, then there could be no free will, since the will of ' men 
 must be subjected to this law. 
 
 In this contrariety is included the whole question of the 
 freedom of the will, a question which from the most ancient 
 times has attracted the best intellects of the human race, and 
 which from the most ancient times has loomed up in all its 
 colossal significance. 
 
 The question, at bottom, is this : 
 
 Looking at man as upon the object of observation from any 
 standpoint that we please, theological, historical, ethnical, 
 philosophical we find the general law of Fate or necessity to 
 which he, like everything else in existence, is subjected. Yet, 
 looking upon him subjectively, as upon something of which we 
 have a consciousness, we feel ourselves to be free. 
 
 This knowledge is a perfectly distinct source of self-con- 
 sciousness, and independent of reason. By means of reason 
 man observes himself ; but he knows himself only through 
 consciousness. 
 
 Without consciousness there could be no such thing as ob- 
 servation or application of the reason. 
 
 In order to understand, to observe, to reason, man must first 
 recognize that he is existent. 
 
 As a living being, man cannot recognize himself other than 
 as a wishing one ; that is, he recognizes his own will. 
 
 His will, which constitutes the essence of his life, man con- 
 ceives and cannot conceive otherwise than as free. 
 
 If, on subjecting himself to study, man sees that his will is 
 always directed in accordance with one and the same law 
 (whether he observe the necessity of taking food or the activ- 
 ity of the brain, or anything else), he cannot understand this 
 invariable direction of his will otherwise than as a HmitatioB 
 of it.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 347 
 
 Whatever should be free could not be also limited. The 
 will of man appears to him limited for the very reason that he 
 can conceive of it in no other way than as free. 
 
 You say, "I am not free, yet I raised and dropped my 
 hand." Every one understands that this illogical answer is 
 an irrefutable proof of freedom. 
 
 This answer is the expression of consciousness, which is not 
 subordinate to reason. 
 
 If the consciousness of freedom were not a separate source 
 of self-consciousness independent of reason, it would be sub- 
 jected to reason and experience, but in reality such subordina- 
 tion never exists and is unthinkable. 
 
 A series of experiments and judgments shows every man 
 that he, as an object of observation, is subordinate to certain 
 laws, and man submits to them and never quarrels with the 
 laws of gravity or impenetrability when once he has learned 
 
 them. 
 
 biieui. ,. 
 
 But this series of experiments and argument proves to nim 
 that the perfect freedom of which he is conscious within him- 
 self is an impossibility, that his every act is dependent upon 
 his organization, his character, and the motives that act upon 
 him, but man will never submit himself to the deduction from 
 these experiments and arguments. 
 
 Knowing from experiment and argument that a stone al- 
 ways falls, man infallibly believes in this, and in all circum- 
 stances he expects to see the fulfilment of this law which he 
 has learned. 
 
 But, though he has learned just as indubitably that nis 
 will is subject to laws, he does not believe it and cannot 
 believe it. 
 
 However many times experience and reason have shown a 
 man that in the same circumstances, with the same character, 
 he will always act in the same way as before, he for the thou- 
 sandth time coming, under the same conditions with the same 
 character, to a deed which always ends in the same way, never- 
 theless indubitably feels himself just as firmly convinced that 
 he can act as he pleases, as he did before the experiment. 
 
 Every man, whether savage or cultivated, however irrefra- 
 gably reason and experiment have taught him that it is impos- 
 sible to imagine two different courses of action in the same 
 circumstances, feels that without his unreasoning idea (which 
 constitutes the essence of freedom) he could not imagine life 
 possible. 
 He feels that, however impossible it is, still it is true, since
 
 348 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 without this notion of freedom he would not only not under- 
 stand life, but could not live a single instant. 
 
 He could not live, because all the aspirations of men, all the 
 incitements to living, are only the aspirations towards enhance- 
 ment of freedom. 
 
 Eiches, poverty ; fame, obscurity ; power, subjection; strength, 
 weakness ; health, sickness ; knowledge, ignorance ; labor, lei- 
 sure ; feasting, hunger ; virtue, vice, are only the greater or 
 less degrees of freedom. 
 
 To imagine a man not having freedom is impossible except 
 he be deprived of life. 
 
 If the concept of freedom seem to reason as a senseless con- 
 tradiction, like the possibility of accomplishing two courses of 
 action at one and the same time, or an effect without a cause, 
 then this only goes to prove that consciousness does not belong 
 to reason. 
 
 This immovable, incontestable consciousness of freedom, 
 which is not subject to experiment and reason, recognized by 
 all thinkers and admitted by all men without exception, a 
 consciousness without which any conception of man is non- 
 sense, constitutes another side of the question. 
 
 Man is the work of an omnipotent, omniscient, and infinitely 
 good God. What is the sin the notion of which takes its 
 origin from the consciousness of the freedom of man ? 
 
 Such is the question of theology. 
 
 The actions of men are subject to invariable general laws 
 expressed by statistics. What constitutes man's responsibility 
 to society, the notion of which takes its origin from the con- 
 sciousness of free will ? 
 
 Such is the question of Law. 
 
 The actions of man flow from his natural temperament and 
 the motives acting upon him. What is conscience and the con- 
 sciousness of the good and evil of the acts that take their 
 origin .from the consciousness of free will ? 
 
 Such is the question of ethics. 
 
 Man, relatively to the general life of humanity, seems to be 
 subject to the laws that determine this life. But this same 
 man, independently of this relation, seems to be free. Must 
 the past life of nations and of humanity be regarded as the 
 product of the free or of the unfree acts of men ? Such is 
 the question of history. 
 
 But in these self-confident days of the popularization of 
 knowledge by that great instrument of ignorance, the diffu- 
 sion of literature, the question of the freedom of the will
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 349 
 
 has been taken into a field where it cannot be a question 
 
 at ln our time, most of the men who call themselves advanced 
 that is a mob of ignoramuses accept the works of the 
 naturalists, who look at only one side of the question, as the 
 solution of the question. 
 
 " There is no soul, no free will, because the life ot man is 
 expressed by muscular movements, but these muscular move- 
 ments are conditioned by nervous action ; there is no soul, no 
 free will, because, in some unknown period of time, we came 
 from monkeys." 
 
 This is spoken, written, and printed by men who do not 
 even suspect that for thousands of years all religions, all 
 thinkers have not only recognized, but have never denied, this 
 same law of necessity which they have been striving so 
 eagerly to prove, with the aid of physiology and comparative 
 
 Z They' do not see that in regard to this question the natural 
 sciences are only to serve as a means of throwing light upon 
 one side of it. .,, 
 
 Since from the standpoint of observation, reason and will 
 are only secretions (secretions) of the brain, and man, fol- 
 lowing the general law, may have developed from lower ani- 
 mals in an indeterminate period of time, it only explains 
 from a new side the truth which has been recognized lor thou- 
 sands of years by all religions and all philosophical theories, 
 that from the standpoint of reason man is subject to the laws 
 of necessity, but it does not advance by a single hair s-breadtn 
 the solution of the question which has another and contradic- 
 tory side, based upon the consciousness of liberty. 
 
 If men could have come from monkeys in an indeterminate 
 period of time, it is just as comprehensible that they could have 
 been formed from a handful of clay during a determined period 
 of time (in the first place, x is the time ; in the second, it is 
 descent) ; and the question as to how far man's consciousness 
 of freedom can be reconciled with the law of necessity to 
 which man is subject, cannot, be solved by physiology and 
 zoology, for we can observe only the muscular activity o tne 
 frog, the rabbit, or the monkey, while in man we can observe 
 neuro-muscular activity and consciousness. 
 
 The naturalists and their disciples, who think they have 
 solved the question, are like masons commissioned to stucco 
 one side of the walls of a church, and who, in a fit ot zeal, 
 taking advantage of the absence of the overseer, should put a
 
 350 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 coat of plaster over the windows, the sacred pictures, the 
 scaffolding, and the walls as yet uncemented, and should be 
 delighted, from their plasterers' standpoint, at having made 
 the whole so even and smooth ! 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 IN the decision of the question of Free Will and Necessity, 
 History has the advantage over all the other branches of 
 knowledge which have taken this question in hand, that for 
 history this question touches not the very essence of man's 
 will, but the manifestation of the display of this will in the 
 past and under certain conditions. 
 
 History, by its decision of this question, stands toward 
 other sciences in the position of an empirical science toward 
 speculative sciences. 
 
 History has for its object not the will of man, but our rep- 
 resentation of it. 
 
 And therefore the impenetrable mystery of the reconcilia- 
 tion of the two contradictories, Free Will and Necessity, 
 cannot exist for History as it does for theology, ethics, and 
 philosophy. 
 
 History examines that manifestation of the life of man, in 
 which the reconciliation of these two contradictions is already 
 effected. 
 
 In actual life, every historical event, every act of man, is 
 understood clearly and definitely, without any sense of the 
 slightest inconsistency, although every event appears in part 
 free and in part necessitated. 
 
 For deciding the question how freedom and necessity are 
 united, and what constitutes the essence of these two con- 
 cepts, the philosophy of history can and must pursue a route 
 contrary to that taken by the other sciences. Instead of 
 denning the concepts of Free Will and Necessity, and then sub- 
 jecting the phenomena of history to the definitions prepared, 
 History, from the enormous collection of phenomena at her 
 service, and which always seem dependent upon Free Will and 
 Necessity, is obliged to deduce her definition from the con- 
 cepts themselves of Free Will and Necessity. 
 
 However we may regard the manifestation of the activities 
 of many men or of one man, we cannot fail to understand it 
 as the product, in part of the freedom of man, in part of the 
 laws of necessity.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. &5 
 
 When we speak of the transmigrations of nations and the 
 invasions of barbarians, or of the arrangements of Napo- 
 leon III or of a man's act performed an hour ago, and con- 
 sisting in the fact that from various directions for his walk 
 he chose one, we detect not the slightest contradiction. Ine 
 measure of Free Will and Necessity involved in the actions ot 
 these men is clearly defined for us. 
 
 Very often, the manifestation of greater or less freedom 
 varies according to the standpoint from which we regard the 
 phenomenon ; but always and invariably every action ot man 
 presents itself to us as a reconciliation of Free Will and 
 Necessity. 
 
 In every act that we take under consideration we see a 
 certain share of Freedom and a certain share of Necessity. 
 And always the more Freedom we see in any action, the less is 
 there of Necessity, and the more Necessity the less Freedom. 
 
 The relation between Freedom and Necessity diminishes 
 and increases according to the standpoint from which the 
 action is viewed; but this relation always remains propor- 
 tional. 
 
 A drowning man, who clutches another and. causes him to 
 drown ; or a starving mother, exhausted in suckling her baby, 
 who steals food; or a soldier in the ranks, subjected to army 
 discipline, who kills a defenceless man by command of his 
 superior, all appear less guilty, that is, less free, and more 
 subjected to the law of Necessity, to one who knows the condi- 
 tions in which these people were brought, and more free to 
 the one who knows not that the man himself was drowning, 
 that the mother was starving, that the soldier was in line, 
 and so on. 
 
 In exactly the same way, a man who, twenty years ago, 
 should have committed a murder, and after that should have 
 lived peaceably and harmlessly in society, appears less guilty ; 
 his action is more subordinated to the law of Necessity for 
 the one who should consider his crime after the lapse of 
 twenty years, and more free to the one who should consider 
 the same action a day after it had been perpetrated. 
 
 And exactly in the same way every action of a lunatic, 
 of a drunken man, or of a person under strong provocation, 
 seems ' less free and more inevitable to the one who knows 
 the mental condition of the person committing the act, and 
 more free and less inevitable to the one who knows not. 
 
 In all these cases the conception of Free Will is increased or 
 , and proportionally tke QOftception p| Necessity is
 
 352 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 increased or diminished, according to the standpoint from 
 which the action is viewed. The greater appears the Neces- 
 sity, the less appears the Freedom of the Will. 
 
 And vice versa. . ., . 
 
 Religion, the common sense of humanity, the science of 
 law, and history itself, accept in exactly the same way this 
 relationship between Necessity and Free Will. 
 
 All cases without exception in which our representation of 
 Free Will and Necessity increases and diminishes may be 
 reduced to three fundamental principles : 
 
 (1) The relation of the man committing the act to the out- 
 side world. 
 
 (2) To time. 
 
 And (3) to the causes which brought about the act. 
 
 The first principle is the more or less palpable relation of 
 the man to the outside world, the more or less distinct con- 
 cept of that definite place which every man occupies toward 
 every other man existing contemporaneously with him. 
 
 This is the principle which makes it evident that the 
 drowning man is less free and more subject to Necessity than 
 a man standing on dry land ; the principle which makes the 
 acts of a man living in close connection with other men, in 
 densely populated localities, the acts of a man bound by 
 family, by service, by engagements, seem less free and more 
 subjected to Necessity than the acts of a single man living 
 alone. 
 
 (1) If we examine an isolated man without any relations to 
 his environment, then his every act seems to us free. But if we 
 detect any relation whatever to what surrounds him, if we de- 
 tect any connection with anything whatever, with the man 
 who talks with him, with the book that he reads, with the 
 labor that he undertakes, even with the atmosphere that sur- 
 rounds him, even with the light that falls upon surrounding 
 objects, we see that each one of these conditions has some 
 influence upon him, and governs at least one phase of his 
 activity. 
 
 And so far as we see these influences, so far our representa- 
 tion of his freedom diminishes and our representation of the 
 necessity to which he is subjected increases. 
 
 (2) The second principle is the more or less visible rela- 
 tion of man to the outside world in time ; the more or less 
 distinct conception of the place which the man's activity 
 occupies in time.
 
 WAU AND PEACE. 
 
 This is the principle whereby the fall of the first man, 
 which had for its consequences the origin of the human race, 
 seems evidently less free than the marriage of a man of our 
 day. 
 
 This is the principle in consequence of which the lives and 
 activities of men who lived a century ago and are bound with 
 me in time cannot seem to me so free as the lives of con- 
 temporaries, the consequences of which are as yet unknown 
 to me. 
 
 The scale of apprehension of the greater or less Freedom 
 or Necessity in this relation depends upon the greater or less 
 interval of time between the accomplishment of the action 
 and my judgment upon it. 
 
 If I regard an act which I performed a moment before under 
 approximately the same conditions in which I find myself 
 now, my action seems to me undoubtedly free. 
 
 But if I judge an act which I performed a month back, 
 then finding myself in different conditions, I cannot help 
 recognizing that if this act had not been performed, many 
 things advantageous, agreeable, and even indispensable, would 
 not have taken place. 
 
 If I go back in memory to some act still further back, 
 that I did ten years ago and more, then the consequences 
 of my act present themselves to me as still more evidently 
 necessitated, and it would be hard for me to imagine what 
 would have happened if this act had not taken place. 
 
 The further back I go in memory, or, what is the same 
 thing, the longer I refrain from judgment, the more doubtful 
 will be my decision as to the freedom of any act. 
 
 In history we find also exactly the same progression of per- 
 suasion as to the part that free will plays in the actions of 
 the human race. A contemporary event taking place seems 
 to us undoubtedly the product of all the eminent men ; but 
 if the event is further away in time, we begin to see its inevi- 
 table consequences, other than which we could not imagine 
 flowing from it. And the further we go back in our investi 
 gation of events, the less do they seem to us spontaneous and 
 free. 
 
 The Austro-Prussian war seems to us the undoubted conse- 
 quence of the acts of the astute Bismarck and so on. 
 
 The Napoleonic wars, though with some shadow of doubt, 
 
 still present themselves to us as the results of the will of 
 
 heroes ; but in the crusades we see an event definitely taking 
 
 its place, an" event without which the modern history of 
 
 VOL. 4. 23.
 
 354 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 Europe would be meaningless, and yet in exactly the same 
 way this event presented itself to the chroniclers of the 
 crusades as merely the outcome of the will of certain 
 individuals. 
 
 In the migration of the nations, even in our time, it never 
 occurs to us that it depended upon the pleasure of Attila to 
 reconstitute the European world. 
 
 The further back into history we carry the object of our 
 investigation, the more doubtful appears the freedom of the 
 men who brought events about, and the more evident grows 
 the law of Necessity. 
 
 (3) The third principle is the greater or less accessibility 
 to us of that endless chain of causes, inevitably claimed by 
 reason, in which every comprehensible phenomenon, and there- 
 fore every act of man, must take its definite place, as the 
 result of what is past, and as the cause of what is to come. 
 
 This is the principle which makes our deeds and those of 
 other men seem to us, on the one hand, the more free and the 
 less subjected to Necessity, according as we know the physio- 
 logical, psychological, and historical laws to which man is 
 subject, and the more faithfully we examine the physiological, 
 psychological, and historical causes of events : and, on the 
 other hand, in proportion as the action under examination is 
 simple and uncomplicated by the character and intellect of 
 the man whose act we are examining. 
 
 When we absolutely fail to comprehend the reasons of any 
 act, in case of crime, an act of virtue, or even an act which 
 has no reference to good and evil, we are apt to attribute 
 the greatest share of freedom in such a case. 
 
 In the case of a crime, we demand especially for such an 
 act the extreme penalty; in case of a good action we espe- 
 cially reward such a virtuous deed. 
 
 In the case of something unique, we recognize the greatest 
 individuality, originality, freedom. 
 
 But if a single one of the innumerable motives be known 
 to us, we recognize a certain degree of necessity, and are not 
 so eager in our demand for the punishment of the crime ; we 
 recognize less service in the virtuous action, less freedom in 
 the apparently original performance. 
 
 The fact that a criminal was brought up among evil-doers 
 mitigates his fault. The self-denial of a father or mother 
 self-denial with the possibility of a reward is more compre- 
 hensible than self-denial without reason, and therefore seems 
 to us deserving of sympathy, less free.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 355 
 
 The founder of a sect or of a party, an inventor, surprises 
 us less when we know how and when his activity was pre- 
 pared beforehand. . 
 L If we have a long series of experiences, if our observation 
 is constantly directed to searching into the correlation be- 
 tween cause and effect in the relations of men, then the acts 
 of men will seem to us proportionally more necessitated and 
 less free, the more accurately we trace causes and effects i 
 
 events. . , f 
 
 If the acts under consideration are simple, and we nave 101 
 our study an enormous number of such acts, then our notion 
 of their Necessity will be still more complete. 
 
 The dishonorable act of a man whose father was dishonor- 
 able : the evil conduct of a woman who has fallen in with, 
 low associates ; the return of the drunkard to his drunken- 
 ness, and the like, are cases which will seem to us less tree 
 the clearer we comprehend their causes. 
 
 If again, a man whose actions we are examining stands on 
 the lowest plane of mental development, as a child, a 
 lunatic, an. idiot, we who know the causes of his activity 
 and lack of complexity in his character and intellect, see 
 iorthwith a decidedly large proportion of necessity and so 
 little freedom of will that so soon as we know the cause that 
 must have produced the act we can foretell the act. 
 
 These three principles alone make possible the theory of 
 irresponsibility for crime that is recognized in all codes, and 
 that of extenuating circumstances. 
 
 Responsibility seems greater or less in proportion to our 
 greater or less knowledge of the conditions in which the man 
 found himself whose crime is under judgment, in proportion 
 to the longer or shorter interval of time between the perpe- 
 tration of the crime and our judgment of it, and in proportion 
 to our more or less complete comprehension of the causes - 
 the act. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THUS our conception of Free Will and Necessity in the 
 phenomenon of the life of man gradually diminishes and in- 
 creases in proportion as we look at the greater or less connec- 
 tion with the outer world, in proportion to the greater or less 
 interval of time, and the greater or less dependence upon tne 
 motives. . , 
 
 So that if we consider the position of a man in wn< 
 
 case
 
 856 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 the connection with the external world is best known, when 
 the period of time between our judgment and the act is the 
 very greatest possible, and the causes of the act most acces- 
 sible, then we shall gain a conception of the most perfect 
 necessity and the least possible freedom. 
 
 Whereas if we consider a man who shows the least depend- 
 ence upon external conditions ; if his act is Consummated at 
 the nearest possible moment to the present time, and the 
 motives of his act are inaccessible to us, then we shall gain a 
 conception of the least possible necessity and the greatest 
 possible freedom. 
 
 But neither in the one case nor the other, however we 
 might change our standpoint, however clear we might make 
 the connection between the man and the outer world, or how- 
 ever inaccessible it might appear to us, however remote or 
 however near might be the period of time, however comprehen- 
 sible or incomprehensible for us the motives, we could never 
 formulate to ourselves the idea of perfect Freedom or of com- 
 plete Necessity. 
 
 (1) However hard we might endeavor to imagine a man 
 freed from all influence of the external world, we could never 
 conceive of such a thing as Freedom in space. 
 
 Every act of a man is inexorably conditioned also by the 
 fact that he is bounded by the very nature of his body. 
 
 I raise my arm and drop it again. My action seems free, 
 but, on asking myself, " Can I raise my arm in every direc- 
 tion ? " I see that I have raised my arm in that direction where 
 there would be the least resistance to such an action either 
 the human bodies around me or the organization of my own 
 body. 
 
 If among all possible directions I choose one, then I choose 
 it because there were less obstacles in that direction. 
 
 In order that my action should be free, it would be indis- 
 pensable that it should meet no obstacles at all. In order to 
 conceive of a man as being free, we should imagine him out- 
 side of space, which is evidently impossible. 
 
 (2) However close we may approximate the time of an 
 event to the present, we can never gain the notion of Freedom 
 in time. 
 
 For if I witness an act which was accomplished a second 
 ago, I am nevertheless obliged to recognize that the act was 
 not free, since the act is conditioned by that very moment of 
 time in which it took place. 
 
 Can I raise my arm ? - k >\
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 357 
 
 I raise it, but I ask myself, Could I have helped raising my 
 arm at that moment of time already past ? 
 
 In order to convince myself, at the next moment I do not 
 raise my arm. But I did not refrain from raising my arm at 
 that former moment when I asked the question about freedom. 
 
 The time has passed, and to retain it was not in my power ; 
 and the arm which I then raised, and the atmosphere in which 
 I made the gesture, are no longer the atmosphere which now 
 surrounds me, or the arm with which I now refrain from mak- 
 ing the motion. 
 
 That moment in which the first gesture was made is irrevo- 
 cable, and at that moment I could make only one gesture, and, 
 whatever gesture I made, that gesture could have been only 
 
 one. 
 
 The fact that in the subsequent moment of time I did not 
 raise my arm is no proof that I might have refrained from rais- 
 ing it then. And since my motion could have been only one, 
 at one moment of time, then it could not have been any other. 
 In order to represent it as free, it is necessary to represent it 
 at the present time, at the meeting point of the past and the 
 future, that is to say, outside of time, which is impossible ; 
 
 (3) However much we may magnify the difficulty of com- 
 prehending motives, we can never arrive at a representation 
 of absolute freedom, that is, to an absence of motive. 
 
 However unattainable for us may be the motive for the 
 expression of will as manifested in an action performed by 
 ourselves or others, the intellect first demands an assumption 
 and search for the motive without which any phenomenon is 
 unthinkable. 
 
 I raise my arm for the purpose of accomplishing an act 
 independent of any motive,' but the fact that I wish to per- 
 form the act that has no motive is the cause of my act. 
 
 But even if, representing to ourselves a man absolutely 
 freed from all influences, regarding merely his momentary 
 action as of the present, and not called forth by any motive, 
 if we grant that the infinitely small residuum of Necessity is 
 equal to zero, even then we should not arrive at the notion of 
 the absolute freedom of man ; since a being that does not 
 respond to any influences from the outside world, exists out- 
 side of time, and is independent of motives, is no longer man. 
 
 In exactly the same way we can never conceive of the acts 
 of a man without a share of freedom, and subjected only to 
 the law of Necessity.
 
 358 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 (1) However great may be our knowledge of the conditions 
 of space in which man finds himself, this knowledge can never 
 be perfect, since the number of these conditions is infinitely 
 great, in the 'same way as space is limitless. And conse- 
 quently, so long as all the conditions that influence man are 
 not known, there can be no absolute Necessity, but there is a 
 certain measure of Freedom. 
 
 (2) However much we may lengthen out the period of time 
 between the act which we are examining, and the time when 
 our judgment is passed, this period will be finite ; but time is 
 endless, and therefore in this relation there can never be 
 absolute Necessity. 
 
 (3) However accessible may be the chain of motives for 
 any act whatever, we should never know the whole chain, 
 since it is endless, and again we should never have absolute 
 Necessity. 
 
 But, moreover, even if, granting a residuum of the least pos- 
 sible Freedom, equal to zero, we were to recognize, in any 
 possible case, as for example a dying man, an unborn child, 
 an idiot, absolute lack of freedom, then by that very act we 
 should destroy our concept of man which we were examining : 
 for without freedom of the will man is not man. 
 
 And therefore our perception of the activity of man, subor- 
 dinated only to the law of Necessity, without the slightest 
 trace of Free Will, is just as impossible as the conception of 
 the absolute Freedom of the acts of man. 
 
 Thus, in order to represent to ourselves the" act of a man 
 subjected only to the law of Necessity without any Freedom 
 of the will, we must have knowledge of an infinite number of 
 the conditions in space, an infinitely long period of time, and 
 an infinite series of motives. 
 
 In order to represent a man absolutely free and unsubor- 
 dinated to the law of Necessity, we must represent him as one 
 outside of space , outside of time, and outside of all dependence 
 upon motives. 
 
 In the first case, if Necessity were possible without Free- 
 dom, we should be brought to define the laws of Necessity by 
 Necessity itself ; that is, a mere form without substance. 
 
 In the second case, if Freedom without Necessity were 
 possible, we should arrive at absolute Freedom outside of 
 space, time, and cause, which, for the very reason that it 
 would be unconditional and illimitable, would be nothing, or 
 substance without form.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 359 
 
 We should have arrived in general terms at those two fun- 
 damental principles on which man's whole conception of the 
 world depends, the searchless essence of life, and the laws 
 which condition this essence. 
 
 Reason says, 
 
 (1) Space, with all its forms, which are given to it by its 
 quality of visibleness, matter, is infinite, and cannot be 
 conceived otherwise. 
 
 (2) Time is endless motion without a moment of rest, and 
 it cannot be conceived otherwise. 
 
 (3) The chain of cause and effect can have no beginning 
 ,ind can have no end. 
 
 Consciousness says, 
 
 (1) I am one, and all that happens is only I ; consequently 
 'I include space ; 
 
 (2) I measure fleeting time by the motionless moment of 
 the present, at which alone I recognize that I am alive ; con- 
 sequently I am outside of time, and 
 
 (3) I am outside of motives, since I feel conscious that I 
 myself am the motive of every manifestation of my life. 
 
 Reason expresses the laws of Necessity. Consciousness 
 expresses the essence of Free Will. 
 
 Freedom, unconditioned by anything, is the essence of life 
 iii the consciousness of man. 
 
 Necessity without substance is the reason of man in its 
 three forms. 
 
 Freedom is that which is examined. Necessity is that 
 which examines. 
 
 Freedom is substance. Necessity is form. 
 
 Only by sundering the two sources of knowledge which are 
 related to each other, as form and substance, do we arrive at 
 the separate, mutually excluding and inscrutable concepts of 
 Free Will and Necessity. 
 
 Only by uniting them is a clear presentation of the life of 
 man obtained. 
 
 Outside of these two concepts, mutually by their union de- 
 fining one another, form and substance, any representa- 
 tion of man's life is impossible. 
 
 All that we know of the life of man is merely the relation 
 of Freedom to Necessity ; that is, an avowal of the laws of 
 Reason. 
 
 All that we know of the outer world of Nature is only a 
 certain relationship of the forces of Nature to Necessity ; that 
 is, the essence of life related to the laws of reason.
 
 360 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 The life forces of Nature lie outside of us, and are unknown 
 to us, and we call these forces gravity, inertia, electricity, vital 
 force, and so on ; but the life forces of man are recognized by 
 us, and we call them Freedom of the Will. 
 
 But just as the force of gravitation, in itself unattainable, 
 inscrutable, though felt by every man, is only comprehensible 
 to us so far as we know the laws of Necessity to which it is 
 subject (from the first consciousness that all bodies are heavy 
 up to the laws of Newton), in exactly the same way incompre- 
 hensible, inscrutable in itself, is the force of Free Will, though 
 recognized by every one, and is- only understood by us so far 
 as we know the laws of Necessity to which it is subject (begin- 
 ning with the fact that every man must die, up to the knowl- 
 edge of the most complicated laws of political economy and 
 history). 
 
 All knowledge is but the bringing of the essence of life 
 under the laws of Reason. 
 
 Man's Free Will is differentiated from every other force by 
 the fact that man is conscious of this force ; but Reason 
 regards it as in no respect different from any other force. 
 
 The forces of gravitation, electricity, chemical affinity, are 
 only in this respect differentiated from one another that these 
 forces are differently defined by Reason. Just so the force of 
 man's Freedom in the eyes of Reason differs from other forces 
 of nature merely by the definition which this very Reason 
 gives it. 
 
 Freedom without Necessity, that is, without the laws of 
 Reason which define it, is in no respect different from gravity, 
 or heat, or the forces of vegetation ; for Reason it is a transi- 
 tory, undefined sensation of life. 
 
 And as the undefined essence of force moving the heavenly 
 bodies, the undefined essence of the force of electricity and the 
 force of chemical affinity and vital force, constitute the sub- 
 stance of astronomy, physics, chemistry, botany, zoology, and 
 so on, in exactly the same way the essence of the force of 
 Freedom constitutes the substance of History. 
 
 But just as the object of every science is the manifestation 
 of this indeterminate essence of life, while this same essence 
 may be only a subject for metaphysics, so the manifestation 
 of the force of the Free Will of men in space, time, and causal- 
 ity constitutes the object of history, while Free Will itself is 
 the subject of metaphysics. 
 
 In the empirical sciences that which we know we call the laws 
 of Necessity ; that which we do not know we call vital force.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 361 
 
 Vital force is only the expression of the unknown reserve of 
 what we know of the essence of life. 
 
 Just so in History : that which is known to us we call the 
 laws of Necessity, that which is. unknown we call Free Will. 
 
 Free Will or History is only the expression of the unknown 
 reserve of what we know about the laws of the life of man. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 HISTORY observes the manifestations of the Free Will of 
 man in their relations with the external world, with time, and 
 with causality : that is, it determines this freedom by the laws 
 of Reason, and therefore History is a science only m so far as 
 it determines Freedom by these laws. 
 
 For History to regard the Free Will of men as a lorce abli 
 to exert influence upon historical events, that is, as not subject 
 to law, is the same thing as for astronomy to recognize freedom 
 in the movement in the heavenly forces. 
 
 This admission would destroy the possibility of the exist- 
 ence of laws, that is, of any knowledge whatever. 
 
 If a single body existed endowed with freedom 01 move- 
 ment, then the laws of Kepler and Newton would no longer 
 exist, and we could have no conception of the movements ot 
 the heavenly bodies. 
 
 If a single human action were free, there would be no his- 
 torical laws, no conception of historical events. 
 
 History is concerned only with the lines of the movement 
 of human wills; one end of which disappears in the unseen; 
 while at the other end appears consciousness of the Free Will 
 of man in the present, moving in space, time, and causality. 
 
 The more the field of movement opens out before our eyes, 
 the more evident become the laws of this movement. 
 To grasp and define these laws is the object of History. 
 From the standpoint from which science now looks at the 
 object of its investigations, along that route which it traverses 
 in seeking the causes of events in the Free Will of men, the 
 formulation of laws is impossible, for, however carefully we 
 limit the Free Will of men, as soon as we recognize it as a 
 force the existence of the law is impossible. 
 
 Only by reducing Will to an infinitesimal, that is, regarding 
 it as an infinitely small quantity, do we believe in the abso- 
 lute accessibility of causes, and only then, instead of seeking 
 for causes, History takes as its problem the search for laws.
 
 362 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 The search for these laws has been undertaken in times 
 past, and the new methods of thought which History must 
 appropriate must be elaborated simultaneously with the self- 
 destruction toward which the " old History " moves with its 
 constant differentiation of the causes of phenomena. 
 
 Along this route all the human sciences have travelled. 
 
 Mathematics, the most exact of . sciences, having reached 
 the infinitely small, abandons the process of differentiation 
 and makes use of a new process, that of summing up the un- 
 known the differential or infinitesimal calculus. 
 
 Mathematics, giving up the concept of causes, seeks for 
 laws ; that is, the qualities common to all of unknown, infini- 
 tesimal elements. 
 
 Though by another form, the other sciences have followed 
 in the same route of thought. 
 
 When Newton formulated the law of gravitation, he did not 
 say that the sun or the earth had the property of attracting; he 
 said that all bodies, from the largest to the smallest, possessed 
 the property of attracting one another ; that is, putting aside 
 the question of the cause of the movement of bodies, he sim- 
 ply formulated a quality common to all bodies, from the 
 infinitely great to the infinitely small. 
 
 The natural sciences do the same ; putting aside the ques- 
 tion of causation, they seek for laws. 
 
 History also stands on the same path, and if history has for 
 its object the study of the movements of peoples and of human- 
 ity, and not a description of episodes in the lives of men, it 
 must put aside the notion of cause, and search for the laws 
 common to all the closely united, infinitesimal elements of 
 Freedom. 
 
 CHAPTEE XII. 
 
 FROM the time that the law of Copernicus was discovered 
 and demonstrated, the mere recognition of the fact that the 
 sun does not move, but the earth, has overturned the entire 
 cosmography of the ancients. 
 
 It was possible, by rejecting the law, to hold fast to the old 
 view of the motion of bodies ; but unless the law was rejected, 
 it became impossible, apparently, to continue in the teaching 
 of the Ptolemaic worlds. And yet, even after the discovery 
 of the law of Copernicus, the Ptolemaic worlds were still 
 taught.
 
 WAR AND PEACE. 363 
 
 From the time when man first said and proved that the 
 number of births or crimes was subject to mathematical laws, 
 and that certain geographical and politico-economical condi- 
 tions determined this or that form of government, that certain 
 relations of the population to the soil produce the movements 
 of the nation, from that time the fundamental principles 
 whereon history was based were entirely subverted. 
 
 It was possible, by rejecting the new laws, to hold to the 
 former views of history ; but, unless they, were rejected, it was 
 impossible, apparently, to continue to teach that historical 
 events were the product of the free will of men. 
 
 For if any particular form of government were established, 
 or any movement of a nation took place, as' a consequence of 
 certain geographical, ethnographical, or economical conditions, 
 the wills of those men who appeared to us to have established 
 the form of government can no longer be regarded as the cause. 
 
 But still the old style of history continues to be taught 
 side by side with the laws of statistics, of geography, of 
 political economy, comparative philology, and geology, which 
 directly contradict its tenets. \ 
 
 Long and stubbornly the struggle between the old view and 
 the new went on in the domain of physical philosophy. 
 
 Theology stood on guard in behalf of the old view, and de- 
 nounced the new for its destruction of Revelation. But when 
 truth won the day, Theology intrenched herself just as solidly 
 in the new ground. 
 
 Just as long and stubbornly at the present time rages the 
 struggle between the old and the new view of history, and, 
 just as before, Theology stands on guard in behalf of the old 
 view, and denounces the new for its subversion of Revelation. 
 
 In the one case, just as in the other, passions have been 
 called into play on both sides, and the truth has been ob- 
 scured. On the one hand, fear and sorrow for all the knowl- 
 edge elaborately built up through the centuries : on the other, 
 the passion for destruction. 
 
 For the men who opposed the rising truth of physics, it 
 seemed as if by their acknowledgment of this truth, their 
 faith in God, in the creation of the universe, in the miracle of 
 Joshua the son of Nun, would be destroyed. 
 
 To the defenders of the laws of Copernicus and Newton, to 
 Voltaire, for instance, it seemed that the laws of astronomy 
 were subversive of religion, and he made the laws of gravita- 
 tion a weapon against religion. 
 
 In exactly the same way now it is only necessary to recog
 
 364 WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 nize the law of necessity and the idea of the soul, of good and 
 evil, and all state and church institutions that revolve around 
 these concepts would be subverted. 
 
 Now, just as Voltaire in his time, the uninvited defenders 
 of the law of Necessity employ this law against religion ; and 
 exactly the same way as the law of Copernicus in astronomy, 
 so now the law of Necessity in history not only does not sub- 
 vert, but even strengthens, the foundation upon which are 
 erected state and ecclesiastical institutions. 
 
 As at that time in the question of astronomy, so now in 
 the question of history, every variety of view is based upon 
 the recognition or non-recognition of the absolute unit which 
 serves as the standard measure of all visible phenomena. In 
 astronomy this standard was the immovability of the earth ; 
 in history it was the independence of the individual Free- 
 dom of the Will. 
 
 As for astronomy, the difficulty in the way of recognizing 
 the immovability of the earth consisted in having to rid one's 
 self of the immediate sensation that the earth was immovable, 
 and of a similar sense as to the motion of the planets ; so also 
 in history the difficulty in the way of recognizing the subjec- 
 tion of personality to the laws of space, time, and causality 
 consisted in being obliged to rid one's self of the sense of 
 the independence of one's personality. 
 
 But, as in astronomy, the new theory says, 
 
 " It is true we are not conscious of the motion of the earth, 
 but if we grant its immobility, we arrive at an absurdity ; 
 whereas, if we admit the motion of which we are not conscious, 
 we arrive at laws," in the same way, in history the new view 
 says, 
 
 " It is true we are not conscious of our dependence, but, by 
 admitting the Freedom of the Will, we arrive at an absurdity ; 
 whereas, by admitting our dependence upon the external 
 world, time, and causality, we arrive at laws." 
 
 In the first case it was necessary to get rid of the conscious- 
 ness of non-existent immobility in space, and to recognize a 
 motion that was not present to our consciousness ; in the 
 present case, in exactly the same way, it is essential to get 
 rid of a Freedom of the Will that does not exist, and to recog- 
 nize a dependence that is not present to our consciousness. 
 
 END OF WAR AND PEACE.
 
 SYNOPSIS OF "WAR AND PEACE." 
 
 VOL. I. PART I. (1805). 
 
 CHAPTER I. PAGE 1. 
 
 at Mile Scherer's. Discussion with Prince Vasfli about politics 
 55^|SaSat Anatdl Kuragin marry the Princess Mariya. 
 
 CHAPTER III P. 6. 
 
 Mile Scherer's drawing-room. The old aunt, The Princess Bolkdnskaya. 
 Pierre. Anna Pavlovna as mistress of ceremonies. 
 
 CHAPTER III. P. 10. 
 
 meeting Napoleon at Mile. George's. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. P. 15. 
 
 The Princess Drubetskaya urges. Prince Vasili to forward the interests of 
 her son Sfs The vafue^f influence. Discussion 9* *g 
 Bonaparte at Milan. The viscount's views of matters in France. Pierre s 
 euS of Napoleon. Pierre's smile. Prince Ippoht's story. 
 
 CHAPTER V. P. 23. 
 
 Description of Pierre. Pierre and Prince Andrei arguing about war and 
 Napoleon. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. P. 27. 
 
 The princess joins the gentlemen. Almost a family qg? 1 - J^J? 
 AndreTs advice to Pierre never to marry, and his reasons. Pierre promises 
 not to join Anatdl's dissipations any more. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. P. 33. 
 
 Pierre breaks his promise and goes once more. ^J^Lf^^SK 
 omard "Rarraoks The wager between Stevens and Dolotnoi. unaracte 
 o?Doldkhof Dolokhof drains the bottle, and wins the fifty rubles. Pierre's 
 frolic with the bear.
 
 SYNOPSIS OF "WAR AND PEACE" 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. P. 39. 
 
 Boris Drubetsko'i attached to Semydnovsky regiment of the Guards. The 
 Princess Drubetskaya visits at the Rostdfs at Moscow. The Countess Ros- 
 tdva. Her dignity. The countess's Name-day reception. Talk about the 
 old Count Bezukho'i and his illegitimate sou. Account of Pierre's spree 
 with Anatdl. Possibility of Pierre inheriting a name and fortune. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. P. 43. 
 
 Irruption of the children. Natasha Rostdva at thirteen. Nikolai Rostdf. 
 Characteristics of Boris Drubetsko'i. 
 
 CHAPTER X. P. 46. 
 
 So'nya the niece; compared to a kitten. Her jealousy. The Countess 
 Rostdva and Mine. Karagina discuss children's education. Appearance of 
 the Countess Viera. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. P. 49. 
 
 Nikolai comforts Sdny_a in the conservatory. Natasha's mischievous kiss. 
 Her engagement to Boris. Viera shows her character to her brothers and 
 sister. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. P. 51. 
 
 The countess and Anna Mikha'ilovna have a confidential talk. The prin- 
 cess acknowledges her want of money. Determines to call upon Count 
 Bezukho'i. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. P. 55. 
 
 Boris and his mother drive to Ki'rill Vladimirovitch's. Anna Mikha'i- 
 lovna's interview with Prince Vasili. Prince Vasili's opinion of Count 
 Rostof. Boris sent to Pierre. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. P. 60. 
 
 Pierre's visit at his father's house. The count's three nieces receive him 
 like " a ghost or a leper." Pierre left severely to himself. Pierre and 
 Boris. Pierre's confusion. Anna Mikha'ilovna's zeal for the old Count 
 Beziikho'i's salvation. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. P. 65. 
 
 Count Rostofs manner of raising seven hundred rubles. The countess 
 presents the money to Anna Mikha'ilovna. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. P. 67. 
 
 Marya Dmitrievna Akhrdsimova. Shinshin and Berg. Berg's defence 
 of his ambition. His egotism. Arrival of Pierre. Description of Marya 
 Dmitrievna, Her semi-humorous attack upon Pierre. The count's dinner 
 party. Girls in love.
 
 SYNOPSIS OF "WAR AND PEACE." 367 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. P. 73. 
 
 Animated conversation. Colonel Schubert's defence of the Emperor's 
 manffeTto. Nikolai's interest in the war. His enthusiastic speech. Nata- 
 sha's mischievous remark about the ices. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. P. 76. 
 
 So'nva's sorrow. Natasha's sympathy. So'nya offers to sacrifice herself . 
 The four young people sing " The Fountain." Natasha dances with Pierre. 
 Count Rosto'f dances " Daniel Cooper " with Marya Dmitrievna. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. P. 81. 
 
 Count Bezukhoi receives his sixth stroke of apoplexy. Scenes at the 
 mansion. Prince Vasili's interview with the Princess Katish. Discussion 
 of Pierre's chances of the inheritance. Prince Vasili's scheme for preventing 
 it. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. P. 88. 
 
 Anna Mikhailovna takes Pierre to his dying father. She promises to look 
 out for his interests. They discover Prince Vasili and the Princess Katish 
 in consultation. Scene in the anteroom. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. P. 93. 
 
 -Glimpse of Count Kirill Bezukhoi. Description of the bedroom. The 
 ceremony of extreme unction. Prince Vasili's strange action. Pierre kisses 
 his father's hand. The count's last look. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. P. 98. 
 
 The midnight scene in the petit salon. Altercation between Anna 
 MikhliloTna a g nd Katish. Anna Mikhailovna rescues the mo^cpoi rtfoho. 
 The struggle for the same. Death of the count. Effect of the count s death 
 on Prince Vasili, Anna Mikhailovna's account of the count's death. Her 
 hopes from Pierre. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. P. 102. 
 
 Prince Nikolai A. Bolkonsky at home. His character and notions. The 
 prince at his lathe. His lesson to his daughter. His praise of mathematics 
 Julie Karagina's letter to Princess Marfya. Julie's description of Nikolai 
 Rostof. Mariya's reply. Conflicting ideas of Pierre. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. P. 111. 
 
 Arrival of Prince Andrei and his wife. Meeting of Liz * a nd Mariya. 
 Prince Andrei's annoyance. Prince Andrei and his father. The old prince 
 dressing. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. P. 116. 
 
 In the prince's dining-room. The ancestral tree. Meeting of the old 
 prince and Liza. Discussion of politics at table.
 
 368 SYNOPSIS OF "WAR AND PEACE: 
 
 CHARTER XXVI. P. 121. 
 
 Prince Andrei's preparations for departure. Serious thoughts. Farewell 
 interview between Mariya and Andrei. Mariya persuades Andrei to wear 
 the blessed medallion. Mariya 's criticisms on her father's religious views. 
 Coquettish Mile. Bourienne. Liza's flighty talk. Andrei's farewell to his 
 father. The prince's memoirs. Farewell to Liza. 
 
 PART II. (1805). 
 
 CHAPTER I. PAGE 130. 
 
 The Russian army and Kutiizof near Braunau. Preparation for inspec- 
 tion. Condition of the regiments. The regimental commander. A change 
 of orders. Doldkhof cashiered. The blue capote. Captain Timdkhin of 
 Company Three. 
 
 CHAPTER II. P. 134. 
 
 Arrival of Kutiizof. The review. Prince Andre"i and Nesyitsky. 
 Zherkdf. The Hussar mimic. Prince Andrei reminds Kutiizof of Dolokhof. 
 Timdkhin's account of Dolokhof. Regimental comments on Kutiizof. 
 " Singers to the front! " Zherkdf tries to make friends with Dolokhof. 
 
 CHAPTER III. P. 142. 
 
 Kutiizof and the member of the Hofskriegsrath. Kutuzof's excuses for 
 not taking an active part in offensive operations. Change in Prince Andrei. 
 Kutuzof's report of him to his father. How regarded by the staff. Arrival 
 of the defeated General Mack. Le malheureiix Mack. Preparations for 
 the campaign. Zherkdf insults General Strauch. Prince Andrei's resent- 
 ment. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. P. 149. 
 
 Nikolai Rostdf as yunker. Nikolai and his horse. His conversation with 
 his German host. Description of Denisof. Lieutenant Telyanin. Disap- 
 pearance of the purse. Nikolai forces Telyanin to refund. 
 
 CHAPTER V. P. 157. 
 
 Nikolai refuses to apologize to the regimental commander. Discussion 
 of the matter. Nikolai's pride. End of inaction. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. P. 160. 
 
 Kutiizof in retreat. The army crossing the Enns. The scene. View 
 from the hill. Firing from the battery. 
 
 CHAPTER* VII. P. 163. 
 
 The Russians crossing the bridge. Nesvitsky on the bridge. Scraps of 
 soldier talk. The German household. Denisof on the bridge Military 
 repartees.
 
 SYNOPSIS OF "WAR AND PEACE." 869 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. P. 107. 
 
 Appearance of the French. The Cossack patrol. The solemn gap 
 between the two belligerents. The Unknown. Under fire. Passage of the 
 Hussars. Nikolai Rostdf. Ordered to burn the bridge. Misunderstanding. 
 Grape. The beauty of the scene. Contrast with death and the destruction 
 of battle. Rostdf 's prayer. Under fire for the first time. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. P. 176. 
 
 The retreat of the Russians. November 9, 1805. Condition of the army. 
 Prince Andrei wounded. Sent with a special courier to the Austrian court 
 at Briinn. Driving through the night. Weird sensations. Prince Andrei 
 at the palace. Invited to meet the war-minister. Cool reception. Thoughts 
 suggested by officialdom. 
 
 CHAPTER X. P. 181. 
 
 Prince Andre"i entertained by the witty Bilibin. His character and 
 career. Diplomatic subtleties. 'Occupation of Vienna. Buonaparte or 
 Bonaparte ? Illusions. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. P. 186. 
 
 Prince Andrei meets the fashionable set "les notres." Prince Ippolit 
 Kuragin and the others at Bill bin's. Prince Ippolit, the butt, entangled. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. P. 189. 
 
 Prince Andrei at the levee. Received by the Emperor Franz. Over- 
 whelmed with invitations. Invested with the order of Maria Theresa of the 
 third degree. Hasty departure of the Court. Bilibin relates the story 
 of the capture of the Thabor Bridge. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. P. 194. 
 
 Prince Andrei returns to the army. The confusion of the Russian army. 
 The doctor's wife. The drunken officer. Prince Andrei finds Nesvitsky. 
 Kutiizof with Prince Bagration and Weirother. The dispositions. Descrip- 
 tion of Bagration. Kutuzof gives Bagration his blessing. Description of 
 Kutiizof. Prince Andrei begs to join Bagration. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. P. 200. 
 
 Kutuzof decides to retreat from Krems to Zna'ini and Olmiitz. Bagration 
 sent across the mountains. " The impossible possible." A trick that failed. 
 The armistice. Bonaparte's indignation at the delay. His letter to Prince 
 Murat. Bagration's four thousand. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. P. 203. 
 
 Prince Andre~i reports to Bagration. Cordially received. Reconnoitres 
 the position. The sutler's tent. Captain Tushin with his boots off. The 
 soldiers at the front. Punishment of the thief. Gossip with the French. 
 Sidorof . Doldkhof spokesman. Siddrof 's glibberish French, 
 
 VOL. 4. 24.
 
 370 SYNOPSIS OF "WAR AND PEACE." 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. P. 209. 
 
 The scene from the hill. The lay of the land. Prince Andrei's compre- 
 hension of the position. Discussion of death. The cannon-shot. Captain 
 Tushin again. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. P. 211. 
 
 The beginning of the action. Influence of the fact. The auditor. 
 " French pan-cakes." The Cossack killed. Tushin's hattery. Setting 
 Schongraben on fire. Tushm's covering forces withdrawn. Tushin forgot- 
 ten. Importance of the general's presence in spite of the fortuitousness of 
 events. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. P. 216. 
 
 Battle scenes. At the front. Effect of the battle on Bagration. The 
 enemy's charge. "Left! left! left! " Charge of the Sixth Jagers. The 
 enemy yield. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. P. 220. 
 
 The Pavlograd hussars attacked by Lannes and defeated. Ordered to 
 retreat. Quarrel between the two officers. The challenge. The test. Ros- 
 tof's squadron facing the enemy. The charge. Nikolai's sensations. Niko- 
 lai falls. The hook-nosed Frenchman. Nikolai runs. Escapes. A 
 benumbed arm. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. P. 226. 
 
 Demoralization in the ranks. Timdkhin's firmness. Doldkhof's gallantry. 
 Tushin still at work. Death in the battery. Tushin's gallantry. His im- 
 agination. Matushka Matveyevna. Prince Andrei sent to recall Tushin. 
 Sights on the battery. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. P. 232. 
 
 Nikolai given a ride on the gun-carriage of the Matveyevna. Bivouac. 
 The living river. The night scene. After the battle. Rpstdf's sensations. 
 Scraps of talk. Tushin summoned to the general. Bagration at the cottage. 
 The captured standard. The regimental commander's story. True because 
 he believes it true. Praise for the blameworthy. Blame for the praise*drthy. 
 Tushin called to account. Prince Andrei defends Tushiii. A splendid 
 tribute. Nikolai's illusion. The conjunction of forces effected. 
 
 PART III. (1806). 
 
 CHAPTER I. PAGE 240. 
 
 Prince Vasili's character. His scheme to marry his daughter to Pierre. 
 Pierre appointed gentleman-in-waiting. Pierre in demand. The effect of 
 wealth. Behavior of the long-waisted Katish. Pierre is generous. Prince 
 Vasili manages Pierre's affairs. Keeps some for himself. Pierre warmly 
 received in Petersburg. Another reception at Mile. Scherer's. Ellen's 
 self-reliance. Pierre's snuff-boxes. Ma tante. Ellen's sensuous beauty. 
 Her power over Pierre. Pierre fits up his Petersburg mansion. Pierre sums 
 up Ellen's character. Ugly stories about her.
 
 SYNOPSIS OF "WAR AND PEACE." 371 
 
 CHAPTER II. P. 249. 
 
 e ,ou, aime." Pierre married. 
 
 > affair to a crisis. " Je vous aime." 
 
 CHAPTER III. P. 257. 
 
 to Lm'siya Gdrui. Prince Nikolai's 
 opinion of rrmce vasui. uu, u, ,,, The "^^ui^Sml h The 
 
 to her prayer. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. P. 266. 
 
 Princess Mariya comes down into the drawing-room. Anatol's self-reli- 
 ance. His behavior toward women. Liza's J ivelmess ^ 
 tion. Prince 
 
 . 
 
 Nikolai's thoughts concerning the 
 Bokdnsky takes offence at his daughter's hair " 
 Effect of Anatol on the women oi>he household. Mile. Bom 
 tions. . ' ' Ma pauvre mere ." Anatdl's breach of etiquette mismterpre 
 
 CHAPTER V. P. 274. 
 
 Liza's fretfulness. The old prince considers and makes up his mind 
 The princess consults with her father. M'^*%feS^ i 8y 
 freedom of choice. She discovers Anatol and ^^rim 
 servatory. Princess Mariya's adverse decision. Forgives Mile. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. P. 280. 
 
 At the Rosto'f's. Letters from Nikolai. How to break 
 countess. The girls try to recollect Nikolai. Petya's 
 countess told. Letters to Nikolai. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. P. 286. 
 
 In camp near Olmutz. Nikolai promoted to cornet. HEk^ 1^ Bil 
 vvho is with Berg. Difference between the young men. Nikolai's jndigna- 
 iion with Boris. Berg's account of the Grand Duke. Nikolai tells about 
 Schongraben. Unconscious exaggeration. Arrival of Prince Andrei. - 
 ola'i quarrels with him. Threatened duel. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. P. 295. 
 
 The emperors review the troops. Nikolai's enthusiasm. Nikolai o* 
 oorseback.
 
 372 SYNOPSIS OF "WAR AND PEACE." 
 
 CHAPTER IX. P. 300. 
 
 Boris visits Prince Andrei at Olmiitz. Headquarters. The unwritten 
 code. Prince Andrei and the general. Prince Andrei takes Boris to see 
 Prince Dolgorukof. The council of war. Prince Dolgoriikof's anecdotes of 
 Napoleon. The men who decide the fate of nations. 
 
 CHAPTER X. P. 306. 
 
 Ready for action. Nikolai in the reserve. The emperor again. Skir- 
 mish at Wischau. The emperor inspects the field. The supper. Nikolai's 
 toast. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. P. 311. 
 
 Savary's mission to the emperor. Dolgorukof sent to confer with Napo- 
 leon. December, 1805. Comparison of an army to a great clock. Dolgorukof 
 describes his visit to Napoleon. Weirother's plan. Kutiizof s prophecy. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. P. 316. 
 
 Council of war. Comparison of Weirother to a horsr> attached to a loaded 
 team. Drowsy Kutiizof. Weirother's "disposition." Discussion. After 
 the council of war. Prince Andrei's doubts. His forebodings. His aspira- 
 tions. The servants teasing Kutiizof 's cook. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. P. 322. 
 
 The Battle of Austerlitz (1805). Nikolai at the front. His sensations. His 
 jeu de mots. Commotion among the French. " Vive VEmpereur!" Visit 
 of Bagration. Nikolai sent to reconnoitre. Nikolai reports. Asks to be 
 transferred from the reserve. Napoleon's order to his army. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. P. 328. 
 
 The morning of the battle. Limitations of a soldier. Compared to a 
 ship. Gossip in the lines. Confusion. Beginning of the battle. View 
 fc-om the Pratzer. Napoleon and his marshals. The key of the situation. 
 Kapoleon gives the order to begin. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. P. 333. 
 
 Kutiizof at Pratzen. The marching of the troops. Prince Andrei's 
 emotions. Kutiizof's behavior toward the Austrian colleague. The empe- 
 ror and Kutiizof. "Why do we not begin ?" The Apsheron regiment. 
 Miloradovitch's charge. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. P. 339. 
 
 Unexpected appearance of the French. Kutiizof wounded. Defeat. 
 Prince Andrei tries to save the day. Battle scenes. Prince Andre"! 
 wounded. Infinite depths of sky. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. P. 343, 
 
 The right wing. Bagration sends Nikolai to Kutiizof. His exciting 
 ride. The charge of the Leib-Uhlans. Narrow escape. Boris. Berg 
 wounded. Evil presentiments.
 
 SYNOPSIS OF. "WAR AND PEACE. 1 
 
 373 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. P. 348. 
 
 Rostdf's ride continued Denforalizatior >^ ft** . 
 
 Augest. Cannonade. 
 
 Dolokhof. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. P. 3 . 
 
 Ahope.ess 
 
 case. 
 
 VOL. II.-PART I. (1806-1811.) 
 
 CHAPTER I. PAGE 1. 
 
 Nikolai. 
 
 CHAPTER II. P. 9- 
 
 , 
 
 V y E e n Hrub. The leaders o, society. 
 
 Sness V ^4 y g SSartS*rE e n gHrub. The leaders o, society. 
 The heroes of the war. Berg's fame. 
 
 CHAPTER III. P. 15- 
 
 ^^^ 
 
 CHAPTER IV. P 20. 
 
 e 
 
 Sokolniki. 
 
 CHAPTER V. P. 25. 
 
 The duel. Doldkhof wounded. Doldkhofs tenderness for his mother and 
 sister. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. P. 27. 
 
 1? ^S^ 
 
 Separation,
 
 374 SYNOPSIS OF "WAR. AND PEACE." 
 
 CHAPTER VII. P. 32. 
 
 Disappearance of Prince Andrei. Kutiizof 's letter to the old prince. The 
 old prince announces the news to his daughter. Princess Many a tries to tell 
 Liza. Effect of the news on the old prince. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. P. 35. 
 
 Liza's confinement. Princess Marfya in her room. The solemn event. 
 The i weather. The old nyauya's tale. The dohktor. Arrrival of Prince 
 Andre'i. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. P. 40. 
 
 The baby. Death of Liza. The old prince and his son. The mute 
 appeal. The christening of Nikolai Andreyitch. 
 
 CHAPTER X. P. 42. 
 
 Nikolai appointed adjutant to the Governor-General of Moscow. Niko- 
 lai's friendship with Dolokhof. Mrs. Doldkhof's admiration for her son. 
 Doldkhof's lofty philosophy. The happy winter. The Rostdfs' home. Na- 
 tasha's judgment of Dolokhof. Of Denisof. Young love. The coming war. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. P. 46. 
 
 Sdnya and Dolokhof. Dolokhof proposes. Refused. Natasha's predic- 
 tion. Nikolai advises Soiiya to reconsider. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. P. 48. 
 
 Iogel r s ball. The girls transfigured. Denisofs enthusiasm. Natasha 
 persuades Denisof to dance with her. Denisofs wonderful dancing. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. P. 52. 
 
 Nikolai invited to dine with Dolokhof. Cards and champagne. Rostdf 
 fleeced. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. P. 55. 
 
 Nikolai's losses. " When will you pay me ? " 
 
 CHAPTER XV. P. 58. 
 
 The Rostc'fs at home. Denisofs poem. Music. Nikolai's thoughts. 
 Suicide? Natasha sings. Her voice and method. Her power. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. P. 62. 
 
 Nikolai confesses his " debt of honor." Denisof proposes. Refused. His 
 departure.
 
 ' SYNOPSIS OF "WAR AND PEACE. 
 PART II. 
 
 CHAPTER I. PAGE 66. 
 
 375 
 
 man. The strange servant. The ring. 
 
 CHAPTER II. P. 69. 
 
 The stranger speaks. Freemasonry. God. Belief. Highest wisdom. 
 ThrFreemrson's advice. Bazdeyef's influence. 
 
 CHAPTER III. P. 75. 
 
 Count Villarsky. Question anticipatory. The initiation. The seven 
 virtues. The signs and symbols. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. P. 82. 
 The Fraternity. The ceremony. 
 
 CHAPTER V. P. 86. 
 
 The sacred square. Prince Vasfli. Pierre refuses to submit to arbitration. 
 Pierre's departure. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. P. 88. [1806.] 
 
 Popu.ar rumors e 
 
 the Prussian ar m y. EUen takes 
 
 Boris up. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. P. 92. 
 
 Ippolit's jest about the king of Prussia." Political conversation. Boris 
 invited to dine with Ellen. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. P. 94. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. P. 98. 
 
 Bih'bin's letter. Account of the campaign. The baby prince out of dan- 
 ger. " All that is left me now." 
 
 CHAPTER X. P. 102.
 
 376 SYNOPSIS OF "WAR AND PEACE." 
 
 CHAPTER XI. P. 107. 
 
 Pierre visits Prince Andrei at Bogucharovo. The estate. Change in 
 Prince Andrei. Discussion of Pierre's affairs. Living lor one's neighbor. 
 Happiness in life. Schools. Physical labor. How to treat the peasantry. 
 Prince Andrei's hatred of the military service. Prince Andre'i's account of 
 his father. Inconsistencies. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. P. 115. 
 
 Journey to Luisiya Gorui. Discussion of man's destiny. Freemasonry. 
 The scene on the river. The ladder of existence. God. The lofty heavens 
 again. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. P. 119. 
 
 The "Men of God " (Bdzhiye Liudi). The pilgrim woman's story. The 
 miracle. Prince Andrei's " blasphemy." 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. P. 123. 
 
 The Princess Mariya's solicitude about her brother. The old prince 
 approves of Pierre. Received as one of the family. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. P. 125. 
 
 Nikolai returns to his regiment. The army life. Good resolutions. The 
 Pavlograd regiment (Pavlogradsiu). The weather in April, 1806. Disease. 
 The fatal root. Nikolai and the pretty Polka. Almost a duel. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. P. 129. 
 
 Denisof and Nikolai at the front. The earth hut. Mashka's sweetwort. 
 Games. Denisof in trouble. Denisof 's indignation. His fit. Exaggerated 
 account of Deuisof 's behavior. Denisof 's obstinate gallantry. Wounded. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. P. 134. 
 
 Nikolai visits Denisof at the hospital. Hospital scenes. The dead 
 soldier. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. P. 138. 
 The officer's ward. Captain Tushm. Denisof 's document. Asks pardon. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. P. 141. 
 
 The interview at Tilsit (June 25, 1806). Boris on hand. Count Zhilin- 
 sky's dinner. The blue spectacles of high society. Nikolai's inopportune 
 visit. Nikolai and Boris. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. P. 145. 
 
 Nikolai tries to present Denisof's petition. Rebuffed. The Emperor, 
 The Emperor's decision. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. P. 149. 
 
 The two emperors. Napoleon decorates Lazaref. Napoleon's appear- 
 ance. Comments among the soldiers. Nikolai's painful reflections. Con- 
 trasts. Nikolai's violence at dinner.
 
 SYNOPSIS OF "WAR AND PEACE." 377 
 
 PART III. 
 
 CHAPTER I. PAGE 154. 
 
 Pessimistic ideas. 
 
 CHAPTER II. P. 157 
 
 ^^ 
 
 Sonya talking. 
 
 CHAPTER III. P. 160. 
 
 The oak in leaf. Rebirth of joy. Change in Prince Andrei. Decides to 
 go to Petersburg. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. P. 162. 
 
 . 
 
 minister of war. 
 
 CHAPTER V- P. 165. 
 
 ^*S$^^ 
 
 Speransky. Montesquieu's maxims. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. P. 171. 
 
 .J*?^ 
 
 on Revision of the Military Code. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. P. 174. 
 
 Dissatisfaction with Pierre's theories. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. P. 178. 
 
 Overtures for ^ofliation^ re^eiv 
 
 losiph Alekse'yevitch's exposition of Mason 
 wife back. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. P. 181. 
 
 CHAPTER X. P. 184. 
 Pierre's mystic diary. Pierre and Boris. Strange visions.
 
 378 SYNOPSIS OF ''WAR AND PEACE." 
 
 CHAPTER XI. P. 187. 
 
 The Rostofs at Petersburg. Their finances. Berg becomes engaged to 
 Viera. Berg's boastfulness. Story of his engagement. The marriage por- 
 tion. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. P. 191. 
 Natasha and Boris. Boris charmed. Natasha apparently in love. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. P. 193. 
 
 Natasha's bedtime confidences. The old countess's good advice. Nata- 
 sha's droll judgment of Boris and Pierre; on herself. Bon's receives hiscongt. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. P. 197. 
 
 The Naruishkins' ball. Preparations at the Rostofs'. The girls' toilets. 
 Count Ilya's superb costume. Last stitches. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. P. 201. 
 
 On the way. The arrival. The notabilities. Countess Beziikhaya. 
 Pierre. Prince Andrei. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. P. 204. 
 
 Arrival of the Emperor and Empress. Natasha's disappointment. A 
 family gathering. Pierre introduces Prince Andrei to Natasha. Natasha's 
 maidenly charm. Natasha in demand. Pierre's moroseness. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. P. 208. 
 
 Prince Andrei dances a cotillion with Natasha. Reminds her of his visit 
 to Otradnoye. Natasha's naive enthusiasm. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. P. 210. 
 
 The gossip Bitsky. Account of the Imperial Council. Prince Andrei 
 dines en famille with Speransky. The laughing statesmen, Magnitsky, 
 Gervais, and Stoluipin. Funny stories. Prince Andre'i's disappointment in 
 Speransky. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. P. 215. 
 
 Prince Andrei calls upon the Rosto'fs. Charming Natasha. Her singing. 
 Her effect on Prince Andre'i. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. P. 217. 
 
 Pierre invited to Berg's little party. The Bergs at home. Desultory 
 talk. A characteristic evening.
 
 SYNOPSIS OF "WAR AND PEACE." 379 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. P. 220. 
 
 Natasha and Prince Andrei, Viera's subtile diplomacy. Impertinent 
 suggestions. Discussion of Natasha's character. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. P. 223. 
 
 Pierre. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. P. 227. 
 
 secret engagement. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. P. 233. 
 
 Natasha of his absence. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. P. 236. 
 
 Prince N. A. Bolkdnsky's ill health. His treatment of the Princess 
 Mariya? Princess Mariya's letter to Julie Karagma. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. P. 239. 
 
 Prinr-p Andre"i writes to his sister about his engagement. Princess 
 Man'va consults w7th her father. The old prince's .attentions to Mile. 
 Bourienne Prfncess Mariya's consolations. Her pilgrim outfit. 
 
 PART IV. 
 
 CHAPTER I. PAGE 243. 
 
 n ^ 
 Si "osse " Though during a journey. Arrival at Otradnoye. Sonya's 
 beauty Changes in Natasha and Petya. The postponed marriage. 
 
 CHAPTER II. P. 247. 
 
 Nikolai undertakes to regulate the finances. Nikolai thrashes Mitenka. 
 The note of hand. 
 
 CHAPTER III. P. 249. 
 
 (1810.) Country scenes in September. The dogs. Milka. Damlo in the 
 house.
 
 380 SYNOPSIS OF "WAR AND PEACE.' 
 
 CHAPTER IV. P. 252. 
 
 The hunt. The horses Donets, Vifl-yan-ka. The " Little Uncle." Karai 
 the wolf-hound. The buffoon, Nastasya Ivanovna. The wolf-hunt. The 
 angry huntsman. 
 
 CHAPTER V. P. 258. 
 Nikolai's prayer. Milka and Liubim. The wolf. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. P. 262. 
 
 The fox-hunt. The Ilagins. The dispute. Ilagin's courtesy. The hound 
 Ydrza (Ydrzanka). The "Little Uncle's" Rugai (Rugaiushka). After 
 hares. The rivalry. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. P. 270. 
 
 The visit at the " Little Uncle's." A Russian proprietor. Anisya 
 (Anisyushka) Feodorovna, the housekeeper. A zakuska. Russian music. 
 Mitka's balalaika. The " Little Uncle " plays. Natasha dances. Would 
 Prince Andrei approve ? The return home. Confidences. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. P. 279. 
 
 The Rostdf household. Pecuniary difficulties. Attempted retrenchment. 
 The hunting establishment. The countess's hopes for Nikolai. Julie 
 Karagina. Nikolai objects. Gloomy days. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. P. 282. 
 
 The Christmas holidays at Otradnoye. Natasha's loneliness: "I want 
 him." Natasha tries her power: rescues Mavrushka from Kondratyevna. 
 Gives orders to the surly Foka. Madagascar. Natasha and P^tya. Na- 
 tasha and Sonya. 
 
 CHAPTER X. P. 286. 
 
 Twelfth night. Confidential talk. Old recollections. The negro. 
 Dimmler plays a Field nocturne. Talking philosophy. Fallen angels. 
 Natasha sings. The maskers. The young folks masquerade. Projected 
 visit to Mrs. Milyiikova. Sdnya's costume. The sledge ride. The race. 
 The enchanted castle. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. P. 295. ^ 
 
 The masqueraders re-enforced. The dances. Fortune-telling. Playing 
 games. Nikolai and So'nya. The moonlight kiss. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. P. 300 
 
 The ride home. "Thou." Nikolai tells Natasha. Enchantment. 
 Twelfth Night magic. Sonya sees a vision. Re-action. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. P. 303. 
 
 Nikolai confesses to his mother. The countess offended. The countess 
 reproaches Sonya. The quarrel. Natasha as peacemaker. Nikolai rejoins 
 his regiment. Natasha's unsatisfactory letters. The Rostdfs' return to Mos- 
 cow.
 
 SYNOPSIS OF "WAR AND PEACE." 381 
 
 PART V. 
 
 CHAPTER I. PAGE 307. 
 
 Pierre's unha^ 
 
 tion. Pierre welcomed 
 berlains. The great question 
 life. 
 
 
 CHAPTER II. P. 312. 
 
 CHAPTER III. P. 316. 
 gSSh 1 idea's^ Th S e olce agrees iih Rostfpchin. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. P. 322. 
 
 Pierre informs Princess Mariya of Boris Druhetskoi's flattering atten- 
 tion^ Her surprise. Her tears. Discussion of Natasha. 
 
 CHAPTER V. P. 324. 
 
 diplomacy. Boris proposes to Julie. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. P. 329. 
 
 lations. Plans. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. P. 333. 
 
 appears. Natasha's humiliation. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. P. 336. 
 
 for Prince Andre~i. In the Rostdfs' box. 
 tie audience. Doldkhof in Persian costume. 
 
 Countess Ellen.
 
 SYNOPSIS OF "WAR AND PEACE." 
 
 CHAPTER IX. P. 340. 
 
 Mock description of the opera. The intoxication of success. Anatol 
 Kuragin. Gossip. Pierre appears. The second act. Natasha sits in Ellen's 
 box. The ballet. Duport. 
 
 CHAPTER X. P. 346. 
 
 Ellen presents her brother to Natasha. The barrier of modesty. AnatoTs 
 audacity. Retrospect. Natasha needs her mother's counsel. 
 
 CHAPTER XL P. 349. 
 
 Explanation of AnatoTs position. His clandestine marriage. His char- 
 acter. His intimacy with Doldkhof. His scheme. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. P. 352. 
 
 Marya Dmitrievna's unsuccessful attempt at mediation. Natasha's unhap- 
 piness. New dresses. Ellen's call. Her flattery. Her bad influence. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. P. 355. 
 
 Ellen's reception. Mile. Georges's dramatic reception. The improvised 
 ball. Anatdl's declaration. Natasha bewitched. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. P. 358. 
 
 Marya Dmitrievna advises the Rostdfs to return to Otradnoye. Her 
 proposal to Natasha. Princess Marfya's letter. Anatdl's letter. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. P. 362. 
 
 Sdnya ^discovers Anatdl's letter. Natasha's strange mood. Sdnya's doubt 
 of Anatol. Natasha breaks her engagement with Prince Andrei. Count 
 Ilya Andreyevitch visits his Podmoskovnaya estate. Sdnya suspects Natasha. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. P. 367. 
 
 Anatol at Dolokhof s. The proposed abduction. The witnesses, Khvose- 
 i-kof and Makarin (Makarka). Dolo'khof remonstrates. Anatdl's argu- 
 ments. The troika driver, Balaga. Reminiscences. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. P. 373. 
 
 Anatdl's farewell. The gypsy girl, Matridna (Matridsha) Matve'yevna and 
 the fox-skin shiiba. The signal. Betrayed. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. P. 375. 
 Sdnya tells Marya Dmitrievna. Natasha scolded. Natasha's condition.
 
 SYNOPSIS OF "WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 383 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. F. 378. 
 
 view with Natasha. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. P. 382. 
 
 Pierre in search of Anato'l. A stormy interview. His apology. Anato? 
 leaves Moscow. Uatasha attempts to poison herself. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. P. 385. 
 
 Prince AndreTs return. Speransky's banishment M. Dessalles. 
 Pri Andrei sends hack Natasha's letters. His excitement. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. P. 389. 
 
 Pierre delivers Prince Andrei's message. Pierre's outburst of frankness. 
 The comet of 1812. 
 
 VOL. III. PART I. 
 
 CHAPTER I. PAGE 1. 
 
 le war of 1812. Theory of Fatalism. Co-opera- 
 freedom and necessity. Emperors subordinated 
 >f ranaes. " Great Men." Napoleon. 
 
 to laws. The complexity of causes. " Great Men. 
 CHAPTER II. P. 6. 
 
 Crossing the Vistula. 
 
 CHAPTER III. P. 10. 
 
 Alexander I. at Vilno. The hall at Count Benigsen's. Countess ^Ellen 
 and Boris General-adjutant Balashdf Arrival of the news. Boris first 
 to learn it. Alexander's indignation. His letter to Napoleon. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. P. 14. 
 
 Balasho'f's mission to Napoleon. Cavalier treatment. Interview with 
 Murat. Taken to Davoust. 
 
 CHAPTER V. P. 18. 
 
 Character of Davoust. Balasho'f's interview with Davoust. Kept wait- 
 ing. Napoleon at Vilno.
 
 384 SYNOPSIS OF "WAR AND PEACE." 
 
 CHAPTER VI. P. 21. 
 
 Balashdf s interview with Napoleon. Description of Napoleon. Napo 
 Icon's pretended desire for peace. The trembling leg. Kurakin's passport. 
 What might have been. Alexander's reception of Napoleon's enemies. 
 Napoleon's irritation. His threat. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. P. 28. 
 
 Balashdf dines with Napoleon. Balashdf 's repartees. *Napoleon pulls his 
 ear. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. P. 31. 
 
 Prince Andre'i in search of Anatdl. Joins Kutiizof in Moldavia. His 
 zeal. Transferred to the Western army. Visits Luisiya Gdrui. Changes. 
 Nikoliishka. Strained relations. Plain talk with the old prince. Prince 
 Andrei dismissed. His talk with Princess Mariy a. Fate. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. P. 37. 
 
 Prince Andre'i at the camp on the Drissa. CHlling reception by Barclay de 
 Tolly. Prince Andre"i studies the situation. The three armies. The com- 
 manders. The essential idea. Theories. The eight great parties. Yermd- 
 lof's famous jest. The ninth party. Shishkdf urges the emperor to leave 
 the army. 
 
 CHAPTER X. P. 45. 
 
 Prince Andrei invited to meet the emperor. The council. Pfuhl, as a 
 type of the German martinet. Types of conceit, French, English, Italian, 
 German, and Russian. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. P. 49. 
 
 Prince Piotr Mikhailovitch Volkdnsky. General Armfeldt's criticisms on 
 the armed camp. Colonel Toll. Paulucci. Woltzogen. Confusion. Panic 
 fear of Napoleon. Prince Andrei's sympathy with Pfuhl. Prince Andrei's 
 conclusions. Prince Andre'i elects active service. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. P. 54. 
 
 Nikolai learns of the broken engagement. His letter to Sdnya. His 
 ideals. Promotion. Retreat of the ariny. The drunken camp. The thun- 
 der shower. Story of the battle of Saltanovo. General Raye'vsky's gal- 
 lantry. Value of personal example. Zdrzhinsky. Marie Heinrichovna. 
 Ilyin. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. P. 59. 
 
 At the tavern. Getting dry. Marie Heinrichovna does the honors. 
 Gallantry of the officers. The regimental doctor's jealousy. Jolly times. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. P. 62. 
 
 Sunrise after the storm. Feelings before an engagement, Battle vt 
 Ostrovno, Tfce cfcajge, Count Qstermann-Tolstioi,
 
 SYNOPSIS OF "WAR AND PEACE! 38$ 
 
 CHAPTER XV. P. 65. 
 
 Rosto'f 's gallant charge upon the French dragoons. Capture of the young 
 officer Refaction. NikolaVs promotion. Thoughts suggested. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. P. 69. 
 
 The Rosto'f sin Moscow. Natasha's illness. The utility of doctors. Na- 
 tasha's symptoms. 
 
 CHAPTER XVJI. P. 72. 
 
 BefaS^^^^^^ 
 
 tions. Their effect. The doctor's mistake. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. P. 75. 
 
 Julv 1812. The emperor's manifesto. Mass at the Razumdvsky chapel. 
 NatSha's conscious beauty. Her prayers. The new invasion prayer. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. P. 80. 
 
 ^teSS&F 
 
 military service. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. P. 84. 
 
 Pierre at the Rostofs'. Natasha's singing. ^y^uadl^ 
 army. Moscow gossip. Shinshin's jests. Reading the manifesto 
 outbreak. Pierre almost betrays himself. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. P. 91. 
 
 Arrival of the Tsar Pe'tya's experiences at the Kreml. Crushed. Ser- 
 vict^he Uspiensky (Assumption) Cathedral. The dinner at the palace. 
 Petya gets the biscuit. And is allowed to enter the army. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. P. 96. 
 
 The Slobodsky palace (July 27, 1812). The meeting. p j<f^ D j^ 
 sions. Pierre's enthusiasm and hopes. Speeches. Pierre s. Its effect. 
 Glinka's patriotism. Count Ilya Andreyevitch. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. P. 102. 
 
 Arrival of the emperor. Rostopchin's speech. The emperor's words. 
 The proposed levy. Pierre's munificence. 
 
 VOL. 4. 25.
 
 386 SYNOPSIS OF "WAR AND PEACE." 
 
 PART II. 
 
 CHAPTER I. PAGE 105. 
 
 Philosophy of Napoleon's invasion. Theory of necessity. Criticism. 
 Ex-post-facto prediction. Facts opposed to hypotheses. Statement of facts. 
 History as seen from the perspective of distance. Union of the armies, 
 Bagration's letter to Arakche'yef. 
 
 CHAPTER II. P. 111. 
 
 Prince Bolkdnsky and his daughter. Princess Mariya's idea of the war. 
 The prince's break with Mile. Bourienne. Correspondence with Julie. 
 The old prince's activity. His restlessness at night.* Letter from Prince 
 Andrei. The old prince's incredulity. His forgetfulness. His will. 
 
 CHAPTER III. P. 115. 
 
 The prince's instructions to Alpatuitch. The prince retires. A vision of 
 the past. Potemkin (Pat-ydni-km). 
 
 CHAPTER IV. P. 118. 
 
 Princess Mariya writes to the governor. Alpatuitch's departure. The 
 bells. ^The crops. Journey to Smolensk (Smal-yensk). The tavern-keeper 
 Ferapdntof. Gossip. Alpatuitch's interview with the governor. Baron 
 Asche. The Baron's message. Barclay de Tolly's false " order of the day." 
 Scenes in Smolensk. Ferapontof thrashes his wife. The price of wheat. 
 Story of Matvyei Ivanuitch Platof. The cannonade. In the cellar. The 
 conflagration. Plundering Ferapdntof's shop. Prince Andre'i meets Alpa- 
 tuitch. Berg's misplaced zeal. Prince Andrei's message to his sister. 
 
 CHAPTER V. P. 129. 
 
 The retreat. The drought. Prince Andrei's popularity. His de'tour to 
 Luisiya Go'rui. Scenes on the place. The little girls and the plums. The 
 men bathing. Chair a canon. Letter from Prince Bagration to Arakche'yef. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. P. 135. 
 
 Matter and form. Anna Pavlovna's salon in 1812. Ellen's clique. Prince 
 Vasili as go-between. L'homme de beaucoup de merite. Criticisms on 
 Kutii/of. Kutiizof made Prince (Kiiiaz). Change in opinion. Ill breeding 
 of the homme de beaucoup de merite. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. P. 140. 
 
 "Was Napoleon lured on to Moscow ? Thiers's opinion. Napoleon's order. 
 Moscou! Napoleon's conversation with Lavrushka. Thiers's version of the 
 interview. 
 
 * This peculiarity of Prince Bolkonsky is evidently imitated from Napoleon at St. 
 Helena: see Bour r ienne's Memoirs.
 
 SYNOPSIS OF "WAR AND PEACE." 387 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. P. 144. 
 
 Prince Bolkonsky arms the landwehr. Princess Mariya refuses to leave. 
 The stroke of paralysis. Taken to Bogucharovo. The change. Mariya's 
 hopes. Her remorse. Her farewell interview with her father. His affec- 
 tion for her. His death. His appearance on the death-bed. On the cata- 
 falque. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. P. 153. 
 
 Characteristics of the Bogucharovo peasantry. The approach of Anti- 
 Christ. Dronushka. The starosta. His excuses for not furnishing horses. 
 Conversation between Yakof Alpatuitch and Dron. 
 
 CHAPTER X. P. 158. 
 
 Princess Mariya. Her interview with Mile. Bpurienne. Bourienne 
 urges her to accept General Rameau's protection. Princess Mariya's indig- 
 nation. Her interview with Dron. Dron's falsehood. Princess Mariya's 
 proposal to share the corn. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. P. 163. 
 
 The gathering of the peasants. Princess Mariya's speech. The represen- 
 tative of her family. Misunderstanding. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. P. 166. 
 
 Princess Mariya's retrospection. Midnight at Bogucharovo. Review of 
 her father's illness. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. P. 168. 
 
 Nikolai and Ilyin visit Bogucharovo. Nikolai and the drunken men. 
 Nikolai and Alpatuitch. Dron sides with the peasants. Nikolai's interview 
 with Princess Mariya. His courtesy. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. P. 173. 
 
 Nikolai manages the insurgent peasants. Escorts Princess Mariya to 
 Yankovo. Her gratitude. Romance. Nikolai loses his temper. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. P. 178. 
 
 Prince Andrei joins Kutuzof at Tsarevo-Zaimishchi. Denisof again. 
 Demsof's bold scheme. Arrival of Kutuzof. His appearance. Sorrow at 
 Prince Bolkdnsky's death. Denisof broaches his scheme. Kutuzof trans- 
 acts business. Kutuzof 's scorn of sense and science. German punctilio. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. P. 184. 
 
 Interview between Prince Andrei and Kutuzof. Kutuzof cunctator. 
 "Time and patience." His genuine Russian character. "Don't." 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. P. 188. 
 
 Life in Moscow. The two voices. Rosto'pchin's placards. Karpushka 
 Chigirin. Shinshin's jest. Picking lint. Fines for talking French. Gos- 
 sip concerning the Rostdfs. Nikolai and Princess Mariya.
 
 388 SYNOPSIS OF "WAR AND PEACE." 
 
 CHAPTER XV1IL 
 
 False reports. Pierre's doubts. The princess's alarm. Pierre remains m 
 Moscow. Difficulty in raising money. Leppich's balloon. Alexander's let- 
 ter to Rostdpchin. The flogging of a French cook. Pierre's coachman Yev- 
 gtafyevitch. Pierre at Perkhushkdvo. Pierre hears of the battle of Borodino. 
 Pierre at Mozhaisk. The joy of sacrifice. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. P. 198. 
 
 Borodino, September 7, 1812. Discussion of the advantages of Borodino. 
 The result. Risk to Napoleon. Comparison between war and checkers. 
 Absurdity of the historians. Description of the battle. Sketch of the battle- 
 field. The fallacy. Proofs. Necessity of shield ing Kutiizof. The real state 
 of the case. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. P. 204. 
 
 Pierre leaves Mozhaisk. The train of wounded. The cavalry regiment. 
 The singers. Pierre and the soldiers. Pierre and the doctor. Pierre's reflec- 
 tions before the battle. Pierre reaches Gorki. The landwehr at work on the 
 fortifications. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. P. 208. 
 
 Bird's-eye view of the battle-field. The officer's account of the Russian 
 position. The procession of the Iverskaya Virgin. The field Te Deum. 
 Kutiizof before the ikon. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. P. 212. 
 
 Boris Drubetskoi. Proposes to Pierre to witness the battle with Benig- 
 sen's staff. Criticises Kutiizof. Pa'isi Sergey evitch Ka'isarof. Kutiizof 
 summons Pierre. Doldkhof again. Marin's poem. Dolokhof apologizes. 
 Benigsen's invitation. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. P. 216. 
 
 Riding round the lines. The Kurgannaya battery. Bagration's fleches. 
 The hare. Benigsen changes one of Kutiizof's dispositions. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. P. 218. 
 
 Prince Andrei at Kniazkovo. New views of life, love, and death. Cap- 
 tain Timdkhin. Pierre arrives. Prince Andrew's annoyance. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. P. 221. 
 
 Discussion of men and measures. Timdkhin's pun. "A skilful com- 
 mander." Prince Andrei on Barclay de Tolly. Prince Andrei's science of 
 war. Those who win. Woltzogen and Klauzewitz ride by. A fragment of 
 talk. " No quarter." Significance of the war. Latent heat of patriotism. 
 Prince Andrei's idea of war. "Good-by." Prince Andrei's recollections of 
 Natasha. Why he loved her. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. P. 229. 
 
 Napoleon's camp at Valiiyevo. Napoleon at his toilet. The Empress's 
 gift. Gerard's portrait. The King of Rome. Making history. Enthusiasm 
 in the French army.
 
 SYNOPSIS OF "WAR AND PEACE." 389 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. P. 233. 
 
 The day before Borodino. Napoleon's actions. His dispositions. The 
 famous plan. Criticism of the plan. Why the various details failed to be 
 carried out. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. P. 236. 
 
 Napoleon's influenza. Effect on the battle. Was a negligent valet the 
 savior of Russia ? Fatalism in history. Napoleon as the representative of 
 Power. A fictitious commander. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. P. 239. 
 
 Napoleon before the battle. "The chessmen are set." His coolness. 
 " Fortune is a fickle jade." Definition of ' ' our bodies." ' ' The art of war." 
 The signal guns. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. P. 242. 
 
 Pierre views the battle-field from the hill. Magnificence of the panorama. 
 The firing. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. P. 245. 
 
 Pierre at the bridge. Under fire. Le bapteme du feu. Pierre at the 
 Kurgan. Adopted by the artillerymen. Scraps of conversation. Lack of 
 ammunition. Death of the little officer. Pierre goes after ammunition. 
 Stunned. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. P. 253. 
 The struggle in the battery. Yermdlof 's charge. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. P. 255. 
 
 Chief action of Borodino. Napoleon's enforced ignorance. Impossibility 
 of directing such a battle. The domain of death. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. P. 259. 
 
 Re-enforcements. Napoleon's indecision. Napoleon and Belliard. Beaus- 
 set proposes breakfast. Napoleon like a gambler. Meaning of the long- 
 deferred victory. Napoleon inspects the. field. Wholesale butchery. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. P. 264. 
 
 Kutiizof. The German generals. Shcherbinin's report. Woltzogen's 
 despair. Kutiizof 's indignation. Rayevsky. Esprit du corps. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. P. 268. 
 
 Prince Andrei with the reserve under fire. Incidents. The cinnamon- 
 colored puppy. The bunch of wormwood. The bursting shell, Prince 
 Andrei wounded. Carried to the field lazaret,
 
 390 SYNOPSIS OF "WAR AND PEACE." 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. P. 273. 
 
 The general impression. The Tatar under the probe. Recollections of 
 childhood. Anatdl's leg amputated. Natasha. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. P. 276. 
 
 Napoleon's sang-froid. Consents to a massing of artillery. Napoleon's 
 St. Helena judgment of the Russian war. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. P. 280. 
 
 After the battle. The message of the rain. Reasons for quiescence. 
 Would the battle have been won had Napoleon used his Old Guard? 
 Exhaustion of the French morale. What is victory ? The wounded beast 
 of prey. Consequence of the battle. 
 
 PART III. 
 
 CHAPTER I. PAGE 283. 
 
 Continuous motion. Achilles and the tortoise. The law of infinitesimals. 
 Reasons for the national movement, 1800-1812. Fallacies. Simultaneous 
 causes. The proper course of history. 
 
 CHAPTER II. P. 286. 
 
 The law of velocity applied to the Invasion. The " beast : ' fatally wounded. 
 Kutiizof's report of victory. Why 110 attempt to fight another battle was 
 made. Conditions which hedge a commander. Criticisms on Kutuzof. 
 The decision to abandon Moscow. When really made. 
 
 CHAPTER III. P. 290. 
 
 Kutuzof on Pakldnnaya Hill. Council of war. The various groups. 
 Benigsen's zeal to defend Moscow. His motive. Kutuzof cuts short the 
 discussion. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. P. 293. 
 
 The council at Savostyanof's cottage. Little Malasha. The participants: 
 Ka'isarof, Termdlof, Barclay de Tolly, Uvarof, Dokhturof, Ostermann- 
 Tolstdi, Konovmtsuin, Benigsen. The qiiestion broached. Moscow prac- 
 tically abandoned. Dispute between the " little grandfather " and " Long- 
 Skirt." Final decision. 
 
 CHAPTER V. P. 297. 
 
 Rostdpchin's behavior. The people. Russian fatalism. Why did the 
 rich abandon Moscow ? Its majestic significance. Count Rostdpchin's 
 behavior. His doggerel. Like a child.
 
 SYNOPSIS OF "WAR AND PEACE." 391 
 
 CHAPTER VI. P. 300. 
 
 Ellen's dilemma. The old grandee or the young prince ? Her ultimatum. 
 Her belief in her own prerogative. Her arguments for divorce a la Aapo- 
 Uon. Ellen and the Romanist priest. The result. Her conversion to 
 Roman Catholicism. Her idea of religion. Venial sin. M. de Jobert. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. P. 303. 
 
 Ellen's scheme. Gossip. Marya Akhrosimova's frankness. Prince 
 Vasi'li's advice. Bilibiii's suggestion. His 60??. mot. ii.llen s mother. 
 Her jealousy. Visit from the Prinz. Ellen's diplomacy. Her letter to 
 Pierre. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. P. 307. 
 
 Pierre after the battle. The three soldiers. Pierre joins them. Returns 
 to Mozhaisk. Discovered by his man. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. P. 310. 
 
 Subjective sensations. They. Pierre's dream. The Benefactor. Con- 
 fused waking. Pierre sets forth from Mozhaisk. News. 
 
 CHAPTER X. P. 313. 
 
 (September 11, 1812.) Pierre summoned before Rostdpchin at Sokdlniki. 
 The ante-room. The bulletin. Rumors about Pierre's divorce. Veresh- 
 chagin the traitor. Anecdotes. Kliucharef . 
 
 CHAPTER XI. P. 316. 
 
 Pierre before Rostopchin. Advised to leave Moscow. Goes home. 
 Reads his wife's letter. Pierre's disappearance. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. P. 319. 
 
 The Countess Rostdva's anxiety about her sons. Her predilection for 
 Petya. Pe'tya with Obolyensky's Cossacks. His independence. Rumors 
 in Moscow. Packing up. Sonya's practical activity. Her melancholy. 
 Natasha's gayety. Reasons for it. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. P. 323. 
 
 Scene at the Rostdfs' (Sept. 11, 1812). Getting ready to start. Natasha's 
 idleness. Arrival of tbe wounded train. Mavra Kuzminitchna. Natasha 
 invites them in. Extorts her mother's permission. The count's agitation. 
 Pe'tya's budget of news. The countess's wile. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. P. 327. 
 
 Hastening preparations. Natasha suddenly shows her capacity. Success 
 in packing. Arrival of Prince Andrei.
 
 392 SYNOPSIS OF "WAR AND PEACE." 
 
 CHAPTER XV. P. 330. 
 
 "Last day" of Moscow. Indications. Value of teams. Th 
 the count. The count yields. The countess's indignation. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. P. 333. 
 
 Arrival of Berg. Berg's present position. His account of affairs. Asks 
 a favor. The chiffonier. Natasha's outburst. "The eggs teach the old 
 hen." The order to unpack. The teams given over to the wounded. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. P. 339. 
 
 Sdnya learns of Prince Andrei's presence. She tells the countess. Nata- 
 sha suspects something. The farewell prayer. The departure. Natasha 
 discovers Pierre in peasant costume. The interview. Pierre's confusion. 
 Natasha wishes she were a man. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. P. 3*^ 
 
 Account of Pierre's motions. Bazdeyef 's books. Gerasim. Makar Alek- 
 seyevitch Bazdeyef. The library. Pierre incognito. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. P. 347. 
 
 (Sept. 13, 1812.) The Russian troops evacuate Moscow. Napoleon on 
 Salutation Hill. September weather. View of Moscow. Moscou as a de- 
 flowered virgin. Napoleon's ruminations. His prospective speech. Non- 
 appearance of the expected deputation. Alarm of the suite. Moscow 
 deserted. Advance on the city. Le ridicule. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. P. 351. 
 
 Comparison of deserted Moscow to a queenless bee-hive. Napoleon 
 informed. A fiasco. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. P. 354. 
 
 The Russian soldiery leaving Moscow. Plundering. The glimpse of 
 convicts. Attempts to stop looting. Appeal of the pimply merchant. 
 Attempts to bribe. Comical scene at the bridge. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. P. 357. 
 
 The Rostdf mansion. Igiiat and Mi'shka. Mavra Kuzminitchna brings 
 order out of chaos. Count Rostdf 's nephew (?). Mavra Kuzmmitclma gives 
 him money. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. P. 359. 
 
 The kabak on the Varvarka. The factory hands. The dispute between 
 the leather worker and the smith. The row. Off to Rostdpchin's. The 
 growing mob. Rostdpchin's placard of Sept. 11. The chief of police. Cheat- 
 ing the mob.
 
 SYNOPSIS OF "WAR AND PEACE." 93 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. P. 364. 
 
 Rostopchin returns to Moscow. His indignation. Letter from Kutuzof. 
 Criticism upon Rostopchin 's conduct. Self-constituted director of popular 
 sentiment. His orders to the different nachalniks. Lunatics and convicts 
 released. 
 
 ;>' CHAPTER XXV. P. 368. 
 
 The pilot of the ship of state. Political storm. Rostdpchin and the mob. 
 Young Vereshchagin (Vee-resh-tchdh-geen). Rostopchin offers a scapegoat. 
 "One God over us." The crime. Murder of Vereshchagin. The frenzied 
 mob. The factory hand rescued. Remorse. Rostopchin's escape. His ter- 
 ror. Consoling thoughts. Le bien puUique. The escaped lunatics. The 
 lunatic's address to Rostopchin. Rostopchin and Kutuzof on the Yauza 
 bridge. Kutuzof 's lie : "We will not give up Moscow." 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. P. 377. 
 
 Entrance of the French. Murat. The Kreml closed. The barricade. 
 The defence. The skirmish. The flight of jackdaws. Thiers's description. 
 Soldiers in the Senate Place. Disintegration of the French army. Fable 
 of the monkey. Comparison of the French army to a herd of famished 
 cattle. Water in sand. Generals in the carriage mart. Cause of the burn- 
 ing of Moscow. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. P. 383. 
 
 Pierre's abnormal state of mind. L'Russe BcsuAof. His plan of ^assassi- 
 nating Napoleon. Reasons for his zeal. Pierre's rehearsal. Makar Alek- 
 seyevitch gets possession of his pistol. Gerasim tries to disarm him. The 
 scuffle. Arrival of the French. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. P. 387. 
 
 The gallant Capitaine Ramball. Makar fires the pistol. Pierre saves the 
 officer's life. His gratitude. A Frenchman's magnanimity. The refection. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. P. 390. 
 
 Monsieur Pierre. Ramball's politeness. His appetite. Kvas. Ramball's 
 description of his battles. " Where are the ladies of Moscow ? " "Paris the 
 capital of the world/' The emperor. Ramball's enthusiasm. The Wurt- 
 temberg hussars. Pierre realizes his own weakness. The captains praise 
 of the Germans. "Refuge" in German. Ramball's sympathy. Story of 
 his life. His gallant adventures. Amour! Pierre unbosoms himself . The 
 beginning of the conflagration. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. P. 401. 
 The Rostofs on their journey. Distant views of the conflagration. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. P. 403. 
 
 Sdnya tells Natasha of Prince Andrei's presence. Night in the Rosto*fs' 
 room. Natasha eludes her mother. Visit to the wounded prince. Hifi 
 appearance.
 
 394 SYNOPSIS OF "WAR AND PEACE:' 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. P. 407. 
 
 The course of Prince AndreTs illness. His illusions. The sphinx. 
 Abnormal condition of his mind. What is love? Natasha appears. Be- 
 comes his nurse. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. P. 413. 
 
 (Sept. 15, 1812.) Pierre's awakening and remorse. The fires. Pierre sets 
 forth to find the Emperor. His abstraction. Scene near Prince Gruzinsky's 
 (Prince of Georgia). The Anferdf family. Marya Nikolayevna's grief. 
 Pierre accompanies Aniska in search of Katitchka. The burning house. 
 The pillagers. The good-natured Frenchman. Rescue of Katitchka. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. P. 420. 
 
 Disappearance of the chindvnik's family. The Armenians. The beauti- 
 ful Armianka. The robbery. Pierre to the rescue. Pierre arrested by the 
 Uhlans. Taken to the Zubovsky Val. 
 
 VOL. IV. PART I. 
 
 CHAPTER I. PAGE 1. 
 
 Life in St. Petersburg in 1812. The Empress and the Empress dowager. 
 A reception at Anna Pavlovna's. The metropolitan's letter. Prince Vasili 
 as a reader. His art. Ellen's illness. Gossip. Anna Paylovna crushes the 
 indiscreet young man. Bilf bin's witticism. Prince Ippolit's attempt at wit. 
 The letter. Anna Pavlovna's presentiment. 
 
 CHAPTER II. P. 5. 
 
 The Te Deum. News of the battle of Borodino. Sorrow over Kutaisofs 
 death. The countess's death. Count Rostopchin's complaint to the Tsar. 
 The Emperor's rescript. 
 
 CHAPTER III. P. 8. 
 
 Official report of the abandonment of Moscow. Colonel Michaud's inter- 
 view with the Emperor. His jest. Alexander's emotion. His vow. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. P. 11. 
 
 Historical perspective. Private interests. Profitless efforts. Useless 
 members of society. Comparison between ta'lkers and doers. Nikolai sent 
 to Vorone'zh. His delight at the change. Interviews with officials. The 
 commander of the landwehr. The landed proprietor. The horse trade. 
 Reception at the governor's. Provincial life in 1812. Nikolai's popularity. 
 His skill as a dancer. The pretty blonde. 
 
 CHAPTER V. P. 16. 
 
 Nikolai's flirtation. NikitaTvanovitch. Anna Ignatyevna Malvmtseva. 
 The governor's wife scolds Nikolai. Proposes that he should marry Princess 
 Mariya. Nikolai's frankness.
 
 SYNOPSIS OF "WAR AND PEACE." 395 
 
 CHAPTER VI. P. 20. 
 
 Princess Mariya at her aunt's. The unstable equilibrium of her emotions. 
 Interview with Nikolai. Her graceful manners. The alabaster lamp. Nik- 
 olai's perplexity. His ideal of the married state. The service at the cathe- 
 dral. Nikolai comforts the princess. Impression made upon him. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. P. 24. 
 
 Nikolai's comparison between Sonya and Mariya. His prayer and the 
 answer. Letters from home. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. P. 29. 
 
 The explanation of So'nya's letter. Her self-sacrifice. Talk with Nata- 
 sha at Tro'itsa. Reminiscences of Twelfth Night. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. P. 33. 
 
 Pierre in the guard-house. Tried as an incendiary. The judicial gutter. 
 Transferred to the coach-house. 
 
 CHAPTER X. P. 36. 
 
 Pierre brought before the marshal. Glimpses of the burnt city. The 
 wrecked Russian nest. French order. Davoust and Pierre. Saved by a 
 look. Doubts. The chain of events. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. P. 40. 
 
 The execution in the Dievitchye Pole. The prisoners. " Two at a time." 
 " No. 5." Buried alive. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. P. 44. 
 
 Reprieved. The balagan. Platon Karatayef. The pink puppy. Kara- 
 tayef's proverbs. The story of his life. His prayer. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. P. 49. 
 
 Karatayef as the embodiment of the truly Russian. His general rotundity. 
 His peculiarities. Life. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. P. 52. 
 
 Princess Mariya plans to go to her brother. Her outfit. Her firmness of 
 purpose. Her feelings toward Nikolai. Arrival at Yaroslavl. Meeting 
 with the Rostdf family. The old countess. Sonya. Change in the count. 
 Natasha. Understandings. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. P. 58. 
 
 Princess Mariya sees her brother. His lack of interest in all earthly 
 things. Nikolushka. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. P. 62. 
 
 Change in Prince Andre"i. His realization of death. Love. Andrei and 
 Natasha. His strange dream. "It." The awakening from life into death. 
 The farewell. Death.
 
 396 SYNOPSIS OF "WAR AND PEACE." 
 
 PART II. 
 
 CHAPTER. I. PAGE 69. 
 
 Association of cause and effect. The will of historical heroes. The flank 
 movement. Criticisms on the historians. The possibility of other results. 
 The war council at Fili. The real reason for abandoning direct retreat. Ex 
 post facto judgments. 
 
 CHAPTER II. P. 72. 
 
 The change of route. Kutiizof at Tarutind. His peculiar merit. Lauris- 
 ton's errand. The cry of the wounded Beast. "The spirit of the people." 
 Changed relations of the armies. The chime of bells. 
 
 CHAPTER III. P. 75. 
 
 The directors of the Russian army. Changes in the staff. Intrigues. 
 The Emperor's letter to Kutiizof. The Cossack Shapovalof. The battle. 
 Kutiizof 's inability to restrain the army. Consenting to a, fait accompli. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. P. 77. 
 
 Kutiizof signs the order drawn up by Toll. Admirable plan. Feasibility. 
 The messenger in search of Yermdlof . The ball at General Kikin's. Dan- 
 cing the Triepaka. 
 
 CHAPTER V. P. 79. 
 
 Kutiizof sets forth. The misunderstanding. His fury. Eichen and 
 Captain Brozin. Repentance. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. P. 81. 
 
 The rendezvous. Count Orlof-Denisof. The Polish deserter. The pro- 
 jected attack on Murat. "Too late." Called back. The charge. Pris- 
 oners. Murat's narrow escape. Cossack plunders. Failure of the plan. 
 Bagaviit and Toll. Tarutind. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. P. 85. 
 
 Kutiizof's nonchalance. Result of the battle of Tarutind. The essential 
 condition of any battle. Impossibility of controlling forces. Paradoxical 
 value of the battle of Tarutind. ../ 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. P. 87. 
 
 Napoleon at Moscow. Brilliancy of his position. Stupidity of his actual 
 course. His genius and activity. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. P. 89. 
 
 Napoleon's actions. Captain Yakdvlef sent to Petersburg. Matters mili- 
 tary, diplomatic, judicial, administrative, etc. Proclamations. Thiers's 
 " eloquent narrative." 
 
 CHAPTER X. P. 92. 
 
 Failure of his projects. Reports of French officials. The wounded Beast. 
 Napoleon's power.
 
 SYNOPSIS OF "WAR AND PEACE." 397 
 
 CHAPTER XI. P. 96. 
 
 (Oct. 18, 1812.) Pierre in the balagan. The gink puppy. Pierre's dress. 
 The change in him. Indian Summer (Babye lie'to). Corporal St. Thomas. 
 Karatayef and the French soldier. The new shirt. 
 
 CHAPTER XH. P. 101. 
 
 Privations. The secret of life. The concept "happiness." Hopes for 
 the future. Pierre's standing among the prisoners. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. P. 104. 
 
 Beginning to retreat. The sick, soldier Sokdlof. The corporal. The 
 fateful force. Off. Burnt Moscow. The corpse. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. P. 107. 
 
 Scenes in the retreating army. Treatment of the prisoners. Horse-flesh. 
 Pierre's sudden hilarity. His immortal soul. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. P.. 112. 
 
 Napoleon's second letter. Defensive operations demanded. Dokhtrfrof 
 sent against Broussier. Character of Dokhtiirof. An unsung hero. The 
 silent motor and the shaving. Bolkhovitinof sent to headquarters for orders. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. P. 115. 
 
 Bolkhovitmof's arrival at headquarters. Shcherbmin. Konovnitsuin's 
 character. At swords' points. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. P. 117. 
 
 Kutuzof. Time and Patience. His views concerning the wounded Beast 
 The desire of his heart. Hearing the news. How affected. 
 
 A 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. P. 121. 
 
 Kutiizof's efforts to prevent active operations. Criticisms on Napoleon's 
 historians. L'Hourrah de VEmpereur. Napoleon's timidity. Decides to 
 retreat. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. P. 122. 
 
 The objective of a journey. Limited perspective. Power increased in 
 an aggregation. Kutuzof resists offensive operations. The fatal road to 
 Smolensk.
 
 398 SYNOPSIS OF "WAR AND PEACE." 
 
 PART III. 
 
 CHAPTER I. PAGE 126. 
 
 Philosophy of conquest. Fallacy of the ordinary theory. The duellist 
 out of rule. The club. Irregular warfare. Honor to the Russians. 
 
 CHAPTER II. P. 129. 
 Partisan warfare. The unknown quantity. Spirit of the army. Tactics. 
 
 CHAPTER III. P. 131. 
 
 Organization of the partisan warfare. Davuidof. Different bands. De- 
 nisof in the forest. Plan to join forces with Doldkhof. 200 vs. 1500. " Cap- 
 turing a tongue." 
 
 CHAPTER IV. P. 135. 
 
 Demsof's band. The esaul Mikhail Feoklatuitch Lova'iski. The French 
 drummer boy. Arrival of Petya Rostdf. 
 
 CHAPTER V. P. 139. 
 
 Reconnaissance of Shamshevo. Escape of Tikhon Shcherbatof. Tikhon'a 
 character. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. P. 142. 
 Tikhon relates his experiences. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. P. 145. 
 
 Petya's career. Scene at the forest izba. Petya's generosity. " I like 
 something sweet." Vincent Bosse : Vesennui. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII'. P. 148. 
 
 Doldkhof 's arrival. Petya volunteers to enter the French lines. Dold- 
 khof 's treatment of prisoners. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. P. 151. 
 The visit to the French camp. Doldkhof 's audacity. Pe'tya's enthusiasm. 
 
 CHAPTER X. P. 154. 
 
 Petya returns. Illusions. The orchestral concert. The sharpened sabft 
 Dawn in the woods.
 
 SYNOPSIS OF "WAR AND PEACE. 
 
 399 
 
 CHAPTER XI. P. 159. 
 
 The start. The signal. The attack. Petya killed. Denisof's sorrow. 
 Pierre set free. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. P. 162. 
 Pierre's experiences. Karatayef. Sufferings. The power of vitality. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. P. 165. 
 Sie'rui. Karatayef s story of the merchant unjustly punished. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. P. 168. 
 The marshal. Execution of Karatayef . The soldiers. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. P. 170. 
 
 Pierre's dream of life. The liquid sphere. Rude awakening. Dreams, 
 Liberation. Burial of Pe'tya. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. P. 172. 
 
 Beginning of cold weather. Melting away of the French army. Ber. 
 thier's letter to Napoleon. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. P. 174. 
 
 Relations of the French and Russian armies. Blind-man's-buff. Flight 
 of the French. Escape of Napoleon. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. P. 176. 
 
 Criticism upon historians who consider the action oi : the masses subset- 
 vient to the will of one man. The ugly truth. Gre 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. P. 178. 
 
 PART IV. 
 
 CHAPTER I. PAGE 183. 
 
 l 
 
 solution of the mystery. Bad news. 
 
 CHAPTER II. P. 187. 
 
 Natasha's mental state. Effect of the bad news on the old count. On 
 the countess. Re-action.
 
 400 SYNOPSIS OF "WAR AND PEACE." 
 
 CHAPTER III. P. 189. 
 
 Natasha's influence over her mother. Healing of Natasha's heart wound. 
 Her friendship with Princess Mari'ya. The mutual love of women. Nata- 
 sha's health. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. P. 192. 
 
 The Russians pursue the French. Losses of the Russians. Direction of 
 Kutiizof's intuitions. His efforts. Skirmish at Krasnoye. Criticisms on 
 Kutiizof. 
 
 CHAPTER V. P. 195. 
 
 Eulogy of Kutiizof's character. Reasons for the choice of him as leader 
 of the popular war. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. P. 199. 
 
 (Nov. 17, 1812.) After the battle. Kutiizof's speech. His emotion. 
 Popular enthusiasm. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. P. 202. 
 A snowy night in camp. The wattled hedge. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. P. 205. 
 Camp scenes. The dance and song. Soldiers' gossip. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. P. 209. 
 
 Captain Ramball. Kindly received. Morel sings. Zaletayef tries to 
 sing French. The stars. 
 
 CHAPTER X. P. 211. 
 
 The passage of the Beresina. Pfuhl's scheme. The fatal impetus. 
 Kutiizof blamed. "The golden bridge." Kutiizof loses his temper. At 
 Vilno. Received by Chitehagof. Kutiizof's life at Vilno. Arrival of the 
 Emperor. Effect on Kutiizof. Alexander offers blame. The decoration. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. P. 217. 
 
 Kutiizof's banquet. The Emperor's covert politeness. The war not 
 ended. Kutiizof a stumbling-block. Reconstituting the staff. " 111 health " 
 an excuse. The European significance of the movement. Death of Kutiizof. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. P. 219. 
 
 Pierre's illness. Dim recollections. Awakening to new life. The joyous 
 sense of freedom. His faith in an everywhere present God. The simple 
 answer.
 
 SYNOPSIS OF "WAR AND PEACE." 401 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. P. 222. 
 
 o 
 
 overseer Save'lyitch. Views of Russia. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. P. 227. 
 
 Comparison of Moscow to an ant-hill. The "something indestructible.'' 
 The population. Plundering. Comparison between the pillage of the French 
 and Russians. Restoration of order. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. P. 230. 
 
 (February, 1815.) Pierre in Moscow. Calls upon Princess Mariya. The 
 -kompanyonka." The rusty door. Natasha. Pierre's delight. Change in 
 Natasha. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. P. 233. 
 Condolence. Story of Prince AndreTs death. Natasha's narration. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. P. 236. 
 
 A midnight supper. Re-action after a solemn talk. Marya Ayramovna's 
 gosfip. "An interesting personage." Pierre's reflection on his wife's death. 
 Pierre relates the story of his captivity. Effect of a genuine woman Nata- 
 sha's intuitions. Princess Mariya's forecast. Pierre's ^KfS^SSiSSi 
 experiences. Natasha bursts into tears. Is Prince Andrei to be forgotten ? 
 "Pierre's moral bath." 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. P. 241. 
 
 Pierre's resolution. Postpones his journey to Petersburg Offers Save'l- 
 yitch his freedom. Save'lyitch advises him to marry. Pierre 'a i cousin: fails to 
 understand. Love changes the world. Burnt Moscow. Dreams. Natasha 
 transformed. Embarrassment. Pierre confides in Princess Mariya. 
 shall await your return with impatience." 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. P. 247. 
 Pierre's joyous insanity. His judgments of men. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. P. 249. 
 The change in Natasha. Princess Mariya's amazement. 
 
 VOL. 4. 26.
 
 402 SYNOPSIS OF "WAR AND PEACE." 
 
 EPILOG. PART I. 
 
 CHAPTER I. PAGE 251. 
 
 (1819.) The storm-tossed historical sea. Re-action and progress. Alex- 
 ander I. Reproaches on his re-actionary tendencies. The welfare of 
 humanity. The activity of Napoleon and Alexander. 
 
 CHAPTER II. P. 254. 
 Chance. Genius. The parable of the fattened sheep. Facts and objects. 
 
 CHAPTER III. P. 256. 
 
 The movements of the nations. Resume of Napoleon's life. The man 
 needed. The readiness of the forces. The movement from west to east. 
 The counter-movement. 
 
 % CHAPTER IV. P. 261. 
 
 The new upheaval. The return of the man of destiny. The last act. 
 Fate. Resume of Alexander's career. Dual relationship of man. The 
 final object of bees. 
 
 CHAPTER V. P. 263. 
 
 Natasha's marriage. The Rostdf family. The count's death. His debts. 
 Nikolai's sense of honor. Inclemency of the debtors. Hard days. Sdnya's 
 character. Nikolai misanthropic. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. P. 267. 
 
 Princess Mariya's call at the Rostdfs'. Nikolai's reserve. The countess 
 urges Nikolai to call on the princess. Nikolai's call. The princess's ab- 
 straction. A personal turn to the conversation. An explanation. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. P. 271. 
 
 Nikolai's marriage. His mode of conducting his estate. His confidence 
 in the muzhik. His rule of conduct. His world apart. Countess Mariya's 
 jealous amazement. His theories. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. P. 275. 
 
 Nikolai's quick temper. Mariya's grief. Nikolai's repentance. The 
 broken cameo. His position in the'province. His routine. His love for his 
 wife. Sdnya. Natasha's judgment upon Sdnya. "A sterile flower." The 
 establishment at Lui'siya Gorui. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. P. 279. 
 
 St. Nicholas Day, 1820. Visitors at the Rostdfs'. Nikolai's ill-humor. 
 A slight misunderstanding. Nikolai's broken nap. Nikolai's son and 
 daughter. The misunderstanding righted. Loving one's little finger. The 
 baby's logic. Nikolai's partiality. Retrospect. Countess Mariya's happi-
 
 SYNOPSIS OF "WAR AND PEACE." 403 
 
 CHAPTER X. P. 284. 
 
 Change in Natasha. The old fire. A model wife and mother. Accom- 
 plishments abandoned. Vital questions. The significance of marriage. 
 Domesticity. Pierre's subjection. Natasha's logic. Seven years of mar- 
 
 CHAPTER XI. P. 289. 
 
 Pierre goes to Petersburg. His long stay. Natasha's annoyance. The 
 baby as a consolation. Pierre's arrival. Natasha's delight. A revulsion. 
 A passing storm. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. P. 293. 
 
 Effect of Pierre's arrival on the various members of the household. Prince 
 Nikolenka Bolkdusky. Gifts. The old countess. Second childhood. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. P. 298. 
 
 The old countess's moods. Anna Timofeyevna Byelova. Gossip. De- 
 nisof . The Bible Society. Dangerous ground. The children s Hour, 
 mysterious stocking. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. P. 301. 
 
 Nikolenka asks to stay with his elders. Denisof's criticisms on the 
 government. Rottenness in public affairs. The discussion. The secret 
 society. Nikdlenka's excitement. Nikolai's threat. Natasha s calming 
 influence. The broken quills. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. P. 306. 
 
 Extracts from Countess Mariya's journal. Nikolai's approval. Plans for 
 Nikolenka. Domestic confidences. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. P. 311. 
 
 Natasha and Pierre. Other domestic confidences. Would Karatayef 
 approve? A hint of jealousy Young Bolko'nsky's dream. His vow. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 CHAPTER I. PAGE 317. 
 
 The object of history. The two schools of History. The chosen Man. 
 The Will of the Divinity. The old theories still obtain. The movement 
 of the nations. Legitimate questions. The New History's statement of 
 facts. A caricature disclaimed. "What force moves the Nations?' A 
 new force. 
 
 CHAPTER II. P. 322. 
 
 Contradictory views. Thiers and Lanfrey. General historians. Power 
 and its factors. Personal power. Historians of culture. Intellectual activ- 
 ity. The Contrat Social. Faulty reasoning.
 
 404 SYNOPSIS OF "WAR AND PEACE." 
 
 CHAPTER III. P. 326. 
 The parable of the locomotive. The idea of Power. Metaphor of money 
 
 CHAPTER IV. P. 328. 
 
 Two alternatives. Power given hy God. Moral superiority. The Science 
 of Law. Accumulated wills. Napoleon as a representative. 'Fallacies. The 
 three answers. Criticism upon them. Parable of the botanist. The life of 
 nations not expressed in historical characters. Abstractions. The Crusades. 
 Distinction between personal biographies and real history. 
 
 CHAPTER V. P. 335. 
 
 The parable of the herd. Reasoning in a circle: " Power is Power.'' Is 
 Power only a word? Men and commands. Miracles. Power not the cause 
 of events. Continuity in time. Connection between commander and com- 
 manded. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. P. 338. 
 
 What is a command? Mistaken conception. The expedition against 
 England. Infeasible commands. Metaphor of the stencil plate. Associa- 
 tion and co-operation. Commanders and workers. Illustration : the army. 
 The cone. The universality of this mutual relationship. The concept 
 "Power." 
 
 CHAPTER VII. P. 342. 
 
 Further illustrations of Power. Men who do the planning and justifying. 
 Parable of the ship and the ripple. Events not dependent upon commands. 
 The real answer to the question: "What is Power?" To the question: 
 " What force moves the nations? " The phenomena. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. P. 345. 
 
 History concerned not alone with external phenomena. Free Will and 
 Fate (Necessity). No example in History of free will. Apparent contra- 
 diction. Consciousness. Will must be free. Will must be limited. Sub- 
 jection to laws. The will and gravitation. Greater or less degrees of 
 freedom. Theology, Law, Ethics, and History. Scorn for the "diffusion 
 of literature." The physicists. Laws of Necessity always recognized. Ab- 
 surdities of Evolution. Fable of the masons. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. P. 350. 
 
 Advantage of History as an empirical science. The reconciliation of the 
 contradictions. Union of Free Will and Fate. Mutual variation. The 
 standpoint. The three fundamental principles: Space, Time, and Caus- 
 ality. Extenuating circumstances. Responsibility.
 
 SYNOPSIS OF "WAR AND PEACE." 406 
 
 CHAPTER X. P. 355. 
 
 Greatest possible Freedom and Necessity. Absolute Freedom or Neces- 
 sity unthinkable. Proof. Impossibility of being outside of space, time, and 
 causality. Reason and consciousness. Substance and form. Comparison 
 between Gravity and the force of Free Will. The Force of Free Will the 
 substance. Vital force. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. P. 361. 
 
 How far History is a science. The grasping and definition of laws the 
 object of History. The application of the theory of differentiation. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. P. 3G2. 
 
 Subversive discoveries. The struggle between the old view and the new. 
 The position of Theology. The new theory not destructive. Astronomy and 
 History Fallacious dictates of consciousness. What is needed,
 
 PRINCIPAL CHARACTEES IN "WAR 
 AND PEACE." 
 
 Bezukh6i: Count Kirill Vladimirovitch. 
 
 Count Pidtr (Pierre) Kirillovitch (Kiriluitch). 
 Bolkonsky: Prince Nikolai Andreyevitch. 
 
 Prince Andrei (Andre, Andre'yusha) Nikolayevitch (Niko- 
 
 laitch). 
 
 Prince Nikolai (Nikolusha, Nikdlenka). 
 Bolkdnskaya : Princess Yelizavie'ta (Liza, Lise) Karlpvna (nee Meinen). 
 
 Princess Mariya (Marie, Masha, Miisheuka) Nikolayevua, 
 afterwards Countess Rostova. 
 
 Kuragin: Prince Vasi'li (Basil) Sergeyevitch (Serge'yitch). 
 
 Prince Ippoh't Vasilyevitch. 
 
 Prince Anatol Vasilyevitch. 
 
 Kuragina: Princess Yelena (Ele'na, Ellen, Lyolina, Lydlya) Vasilyevua, 
 afterwards Countess Beziikhaya. 
 
 Rostdf : Count llya Andreyevitcli (Andreyitch). 
 
 Count Nikolai (Nikoleuka, Nikulushka, Kdlya, Koko) flyitch. 
 Count Pidtr (Pe'tya, Petrushka, Petenka) llyitch. 
 Rostova: Countess Natalya, nee Shinshina. 
 
 Countess Vie'ra (Vie'rushka, Vie'rotchka) Ilyinitchna, after- 
 wards Mrs. Berg. 
 
 Countess Natalya (Nathalie, Natasha) llyinitchna, afterwards, 
 
 Countess Bezukhaya. 
 Sofya (Sophie, Sdnya, Sunyushka) Aleksandrovna, the niece 
 
 of the Rostofs. 
 
 Dmitri (Mitenka) Vasilyevitch, the adopted son and manager 
 Berg: Alphonse Karluitch. 
 
 Drubetsko'i: Prince Bon's (Borenka). 
 Drube'tskaya : Princess Anna Mikhailovna. 
 Karagina : Marya Lvdvna and her daughter 
 
 Julie, afterwards Princess Drubetskaya. 
 
 Mamdntova: Princess Yekatyerina (Ekateriua, Catherine, Katish, Katiche] 
 Semydnovna. 
 
 Princess Sofya Semydnovna. 
 
 Princess Olga Semydnovna. 
 Denisof : Vasi'li (Vaska) Feddorovitch. 
 
 Doldkhof : Feddor (Fe'dya) Ivanovitch, son of 
 Doldkhova: Marya Ivanovna. 
 
 Akhrasimova: Marya Dmitrievua. 
 Shinshin: Piotr Nikolayevitch. 
 Timdkhin: Prokhdr Ignatyevitch. 
 
 406
 
 PRINCIPAL CHARACTERS IN' "WAR AND PEACE." 
 
 Bazdeyef : Osip (Idsiph) Alekseyevitch (vol. ii. p. 68). 
 Schubert: General Karl Bogdanovitch (Bogdanuitch). 
 Perdns-kaya : Marya Ignatyevna (vol. n. p. 198). 
 Karatayef : Platoii (Platdsha, Platoche), vol. iv. p. 45. 
 Sniolyaiiinof : Lieutenant Telyanm. 
 Me'lyukova: Pelagaya Damlovna (vol. 11. p. ) 
 ' 
 
 407 
 
 Sche'rer: Anna Pavlovna (Annette). 
 Bourienne (Burienka) : Mile. Amelie 
 
 y , Karluitch Di.nmler, 
 
 zTl ii Luiza Ivanovna Schoss, Tikhon, Maksimka, Marya Bogdanovna 
 the i midwife Feoktist the cook, Praskovya Savislma the old nyanya, 
 ivanushka tl\e old pilgrim, Fedo^yushka, Father Amfnokhi, Mavrushka 
 the maid, Gerasim the servant, Ilyushka the gypsy, \ akof Alpatuitoh, 
 Lavrushka, etc. 
 
 The Emperor Alexander Pavlovitch (Romanof). 
 
 The Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte. 
 
 Mikhail Iliaronovitch Kutuzof. 
 
 Pavel Ivanovitch Kutuzof (vol. m. p. ITS). 
 
 Feddor Vasilyevitch Rostdpch.in (Riis-tdp-tchin), vol. 11. p. dl. 
 
 Prince Adam Czartoruisky (Char-to-ris-ky). 
 
 Count Ostermann-Tolstdi. 
 
 General Prschebiszewsky (Presh-ev-sky). 
 
 Mikhail Mikhailovitch Speransky (vol. n. p. 318). 
 
 Alekse'i Andreyevitch Arakcheyef (vol. n. p. Ib6). 
 
 General Miloradovitch. . 
 
 Yuri Vladimirovitch Dolgorukof or Polgoruki. 
 
 Count Viazemsky. 
 
 Prince Aleksandr Naruishkin. 
 
 Feddor Petrdvitch Uvarof. 
 
 General Benigsen (or Benningsen). 
 
 Countess Potocka (Pototska). 
 
 Count Maikof . 
 
 de Tolly (vol. ^f 
 
 Orlof-Denfsof (vol. iv. p. 82) Poniatowsky ; (vol. m. 
 Weirother, Balashof, Murat (vol. m. p. 16 . ^ 8 >; ?fX^ n (T S^ fe-ffi 
 iv. 137), Pfuhl (Pfiihl) (vol. iii. p. 40), Rumyantsof, Stoluipin, ^f Duke 
 Konstaiitin Pavlovitch (vol. iii. p. 39), Potemkm (Pat-yom-km), Suvarof 
 (Suvarof, Suwarrow), etc.