Book Eleven: 1812 - Chapter X

by Leo Tolstoy

　　On the thirteenth of August Pierre reached Moscow. Close to thegates of the city he was met by Count Rostopchin's adjutant.

　　"We have been looking for you everywhere," said the adjutant. "Thecount wants to see you particularly. He asks you to come to him atonce on a very important matter."

　　Without going home, Pierre took a cab and drove to see the Moscowcommander in chief.

　　Count Rostopchin had only that morning returned to town from hissummer villa at Sokolniki. The anteroom and reception room of hishouse were full of officials who had been summoned or had come fororders. Vasilchikov and Platov had already seen the count andexplained to him that it was impossible to defend Moscow and that itwould have to be surrendered. Though this news was being concealedfrom the inhabitants, the officials- the heads of the variousgovernment departments- knew that Moscow would soon be in theenemy's hands, just as Count Rostopchin himself knew it, and to escapepersonal responsibility they had all come to the governor to ask howthey were to deal with their various departments.

　　As Pierre was entering the reception room a courier from the armycame out of Rostopchin's private room.

　　In answer to questions with which he was greeted, the courier made adespairing gesture with his hand and passed through the room.

　　While waiting in the reception room Pierre with weary eyes watchedthe various officials, old and young, military and civilian, whowere there. They all seemed dissatisfied and uneasy. Pierre went up toa group of men, one of whom he knew. After greeting Pierre theycontinued their conversation.

　　"If they're sent out and brought back again later on it will do noharm, but as things are now one can't answer for anything."

　　"But you see what he writes..." said another, pointing to aprinted sheet he held in his hand.

　　"That's another matter. That's necessary for the people," said thefirst.

　　"What is it?" asked Pierre.

　　"Oh, it's a fresh broadsheet."

　　Pierre took it and began reading.

　　His Serene Highness has passed through Mozhaysk in order to joinup with the troops moving toward him and has taken up a strongposition where the enemy will not soon attack him. Forty eight gunswith ammunition have been sent him from here, and his SereneHighness says he will defend Moscow to the last drop of blood and iseven ready to fight in the streets. Do not be upset, brothers, thatthe law courts are closed; things have to be put in order, and we willdeal with villains in our own way! When the time comes I shall wantboth town and peasant lads and will raise the cry a day or twobeforehand, but they are not wanted yet so I hold my peace. An ax willbe useful, a hunting spear not bad, but a three-pronged fork will bebest of all: a Frenchman is no heavier than a sheaf of rye. Tomorrowafter dinner I shall take the Iberian icon of the Mother of God to thewounded in the Catherine Hospital where we will have some waterblessed. That will help them to get well quicker. I, too, am well now:one of my eyes was sore but now I am on the lookout with both.

　　"But military men have told me that it is impossible to fight in thetown," said Pierre, "and that the position..."

　　"Well, of course! That's what we were saying," replied the firstspeaker.

　　"And what does he mean by 'One of my eyes was sore but now I am onthe lookout with both'?" asked Pierre.

　　"The count had a sty," replied the adjutant smiling, "and was verymuch upset when I told him people had come to ask what was thematter with him. By the by, Count," he added suddenly, addressingPierre with a smile, "we heard that you have family troubles andthat the countess, your wife..."

　　"I have heard nothing," Pierre replied unconcernedly. "But what haveyou heard?"

　　"Oh, well, you know people often invent things. I only say what Iheard."

　　"But what did you hear?"

　　"Well, they say," continued the adjutant with the same smile,"that the countess, your wife, is preparing to go abroad. I expectit's nonsense...."

　　"Possibly," remarked Pierre, looking about him absent-mindedly. "Andwho is that?" he asked, indicating a short old man in a clean bluepeasant overcoat, with a big snow-white beard and eyebrows and a ruddyface.

　　"He? That's a tradesman, that is to say, he's the restaurant keeper,Vereshchagin. Perhaps you have heard of that affair with theproclamation."

　　"Oh, so that is Vereshchagin!" said Pierre, looking at the firm,calm face of the old man and seeking any indication of his being atraitor.

　　"That's not he himself, that's the father of the fellow who wrotethe proclamation," said the adjutant. "The young man is in prisonand I expect it will go hard with him."

　　An old gentleman wearing a star and another official, a Germanwearing a cross round his neck, approached the speaker.

　　"It's a complicated story, you know," said the adjutant. "Thatproclamation appeared about two months ago. The count was informedof it. He gave orders to investigate the matter. Gabriel Ivanovichhere made the inquiries. The proclamation had passed through exactlysixty-three hands. He asked one, 'From whom did you get it?' 'Fromso-and-so.' He went to the next one. 'From whom did you get it?' andso on till he reached Vereshchagin, a half educated tradesman, youknow, 'a pet of a trader,'" said the adjutant smiling. "They askedhim, 'Who gave it you?' And the point is that we knew whom he had itfrom. He could only have had it from the Postmaster. But evidentlythey had come to some understanding. He replied: 'From no one; Imade it up myself.' They threatened and questioned him, but he stuckto that: 'I made it up myself.' And so it was reported to the count,who sent for the man. 'From whom did you get the proclamation?' 'Iwrote it myself.' Well, you know the count," said the adjutantcheerfully, with a smile of pride, "he flared up dreadfully- andjust think of the fellow's audacity, lying, and obstinacy!"

　　"And the count wanted him to say it was from Klyucharev? Iunderstand!" said Pierre.

　　"Not at all," rejoined the adjutant in dismay. "Klyucharev had hisown sins to answer for without that and that is why he has beenbanished. But the point is that the count was much annoyed. 'How couldyou have written it yourself?' said he, and he took up the HamburgGazette that was lying on the table. 'Here it is! You did not write ityourself but translated it, and translated it abominably, becauseyou don't even know French, you fool.' And what do you think? 'No,'said he, 'I have not read any papers, I made it up myself.' 'If that'sso, you're a traitor and I'll have you tried, and you'll be hanged!Say from whom you had it.' 'I have seen no papers, I made it upmyself.' And that was the end of it. The count had the father fetched,but the fellow stuck to it. He was sent for trial and condemned tohard labor, I believe. Now the father has come to intercede for him.But he's a good-for-nothing lad! You know that sort of tradesman'sson, a dandy and lady-killer. He attended some lectures somewhereand imagines that the devil is no match for him. That's the sort offellow he is. His father keeps a cookshop here by the Stone Bridge,and you know there was a large icon of God Almighty painted with ascepter in one hand and an orb in the other. Well, he took that iconhome with him for a few days and what did he do? He found somescoundrel of a painter..."