《War And Peace》 Book5 CHAPTER VI
by Leo Tolstoy
PIERRE'S DUEL with Dolohov was smoothed over, and in spite of the Tsar's
severity in regard to duels at that time, neither the principals nor the seconds
suffered for it. But the scandal of the duel, confirmed by Pierre's rupture with
his wife, made a GREat noise in society. Pierre had been looked upon with
patronising condescension when he was an illegitimate son; he had been made much
of and extolled for his virtues while he was the wealthiest match in the Russian
empire; but after his marriage, when young ladies and their mothers had nothing
to hope from him, he had fallen greatly in the opinion of society, especially as
he had neither the wit nor the wish to ingratiate himself in public favour. Now
the blame of the whole affair was thrown on him; it was said that he was
insanely jealous, and subject to the same fits of blood-thirsty fury as his
father had been. And when, after Pierre's departure, Ellen returned to
Petersburg, she was received by all her acquaintances not only cordially, but
with a shade of deference that was a tribute to her distress. When the
conversation touched upon her husband, Ellen assumed an expression of dignity,
which her characteristic tact prompted her to adopt, though she had no
conception of its significance. That expression suggested that she had resolved
to bear her affliction without complaint, and that her husband was a cross God
had laid upon her. Prince Vassily expressed his opinion more openly. He shrugged
his shoulders when the conversation turned upon Pierre, and pointing to his
forehead, said:
“Crackbrained, I always said so.”
“I used to say so even before,” Anna Pavlovna would say of Pierre, “at the
time I said at once and before every one” (she insisted on her priority) “that
he was an insane young man, corrupted by the dissolute ideas of the age. I used
to say so at the time when every one was in such ecstasies over him; and he had
only just come home from abroad, and do you remember at one of my soirées
he thought fit to pose as a sort of Marat? And how has it ended? Even then I was
against this marriage, and foretold all that has come to pass.”
Anna Pavlovna used still to give soirées on her free days as before,
soirées such as only she had the gift of arranging, soirées at
which were gathered “the cream of really good society, the flower of the
intellectual essence of Petersburg society,” as Anna Pavlovna herself used to
say. Besides this fine sifting of the society, Anna Pavlovna's soirées
were further distinguished by some new interesting person, secured by the
hostess on every occasion for the entertainment of the company. Moreover, the
point on the political thermometer, at which the temperature of loyal court
society stood in Petersburg, was nowhere so clearly and unmistakably marked as
at these soirées.
Towards the end of the year 1806, when all the melancholy details of
Napoleon's destruction of the Prussian army at Jena and Auerstadt, and the
surrender of the GREater number of the Prussian forts, had arrived, when our
troops were already entering Prussia, and our second war with Napoleon was
beginning, Anna Pavlovna was giving one of her soirées. “The cream of
really good society” consisted of the fascinating and unhappy Ellen, abandoned
by her husband; of Mortemart; of the fascinating Prince Ippolit, who had just
come home from Vienna; of two diplomats, of the old aunt; of a young man, always
referred to in that society by the designation, “a man of a great deal of merit
…”; of a newly appointed maid of honour and her mother, and several other less
noteworthy persons.
The novelty Anna Pavlovna was offering her guests for their entertainment
that evening was Boris Drubetskoy, who had just arrived as a special messenger
from the Prussian army, and was in the suite of a personage of very high
rank.
What the political thermometer indicated at that soirée was something
as follows: All the European rulers and generals may do their utmost to flatter
Bonaparte with the object of causing me and us generally these
annoyances and mortifications, but our opinion in regard to Bonaparte can
undergo no change. We do not cease giving undisguised expression to our way of
thinking on the subject, and can only say to the Prussian king and others: “So
much the worse for you.” “Tu l'as voulu, George Dandin,” that's all we
can say. This was what the political thermometer indicated at Anna Pavlovna's
soirée. When Boris, who was to be offered up to the guests, came into the
drawing-room, almost all the company had assembled, and the conversation, guided
by Anna Pavlovna, was of our diplomatic relations with Austria, and the hope of
an alliance with her.
Boris, fresh, rosy, and manlier looking, walked easily into the drawing-room,
wearing the elegant uniform of an adjutant. He was duly conducted to pay his
respects to the aunt, and then joined the general circle.
Anna Pavlovna gave him her shrivelled hand to kiss, introduced him to several
persons whom he did not know, and gave him a whispered description of each of
them. “Prince Ippolit Kuragin, M. Krug, chargé d'affaires from
Copenhagen, a profound intellect and simple, M. Shitov, a man of a GREat deal of
merit …” this of the young man always so spoken of.
Thanks to the efforts of Anna Mihalovna, his own tastes and the peculiarities
of his reserved character, Boris had succeeded by that time in getting into a
very advantageous position in the service. He was an adjutant in the suite of a
personage of very high rank, he had received a very important commission in
Prussia, and had only just returned thence as a special messenger. He had
completely assimilated that unwritten code which had so pleased him at Olmütz,
that code in virtue of which a lieutenant may stand infinitely higher than a
general, and all that is needed for success in the service is not effort, not
work, not gallantry, not perseverance, but simply the art of getting on with
those who have the bestowal of promotion, and he often himself marvelled at the
rapidity of his own proGREss, and that others failed to grasp the secret of it.
His whole manner of life, all his relations with his old friends, all his plans
for the future were completely transformed in consequence of this discovery. He
was not well off, but he spent his last copeck to be better dressed than others.
He would have deprived himself of many pleasures rather than have allowed
himself to drive in an inferior carriage, or to be seen in the streets of
Petersburg in an old uniform. He sought the acquaintance and cultivated the
friendship only of persons who were in a higher position, and could consequently
be of use to him. He loved Petersburg and despised Moscow. His memories of the
Rostov household and his childish passion for Natasha were distasteful to him,
and he had not once been at the Rostovs' since he had entered the army. In Anna
Pavlovna's drawing-room, his entry into which he looked upon as an important
step upward in the service, he at once took his cue, and let Anna Pavlovna make
the most of what interest he had to offer, while himself attentively watching
every face and appraising the advantages and possibilities of intimacy with
every one of the persons present. He sat on the seat indicated to him beside the
fair Ellen and listened to the general conversation.
“Vienna considers the bases of the proposed treaty so unattainable that not
even a continuance of the most brilliant successes would put them within reach,
and doubts whether any means could gain them for us. These are the actual words
of the ministry in Vienna,” said the Danish chargé d'affaires.
“It is polite of them to doubt,” said the man of profound intellect with a
subtle smile.
“We must distinguish between the ministry in Vienna and the Emperor of
Austria,” said Mortemart. “The Emperor of Austria can never have thought of such
a thing; it is only the ministers who say it.”
“Ah, my dear vicomte,” put in Anna Pavlovna; “Europe will never be our
sincere ally.”
Then Anna Pavlovna turned the conversation upon the courage and firmness of
the Prussian king, with the object of bringing Boris into action.
Boris listened attentively to the person who was speaking, and waited for his
turn, but meanwhile he had leisure to look round several times at the fair
Ellen, who several times met the handsome young adjutant's eyes with a
smile.
Very naturally, speaking of the position of Prussia, Anna Pavlovna asked
Boris to describe his journey to Glogau, and the position in which he had found
the Prussian army. Boris in his pure, correct French, told them very
deliberately a GREat many interesting details about the armies, and the court,
studiously abstaining from any expression of his own opinion in regard to the
facts he was narrating. For some time Boris engrossed the whole attention of the
company, and Anna Pavlovna felt that the novelty she was serving her guests was
being accepted by them all with pleasure. Of all the party, the person who
showed most interest in Boris's description was Ellen. She asked him several
questions about his expedition, and seemed to be extremely interested in the
position of the Prussian army. As soon as he had finished, she turned to him
with her habitual smile.
“You absolutely must come and see me,” she said in a tone that suggested that
for certain considerations, of which he could have no knowledge, it was
absolutely essential. “On Tuesday between eight and nine. It will give me GREat
pleasure.”
Boris promised to do so, and was about to enter into conversation with her,
when Anna Pavlovna drew him aside on the pretext that her aunt wished to hear
his story.
“You know her husband, of course?” said Anna Pavlovna, dropping her eyelids,
and with a melancholy gesture indicating Ellen. “Ah, such an unhappy and
exquisite woman! Don't speak of him before her; pray, don't speak of him. It's
too much for her!”
