Book Five: 1806-07 - Chapter XI

by Leo Tolstoy

　　Returning from his journey through South Russia in the happieststate of mind, Pierre carried out an intention he had long had ofvisiting his friend Bolkonski, whom he had not seen for two years.

　　Bogucharovo lay in a flat uninteresting part of the country amongfields and forests of fir and birch, which were partly cut down. Thehouse lay behind a newly dug pond filled with water to the brink andwith banks still bare of grass. It was at the end of a village thatstretched along the highroad in the midst of a young copse in whichwere a few fir trees.

　　The homestead consisted of a threshing floor, outhouses, stables,a bathhouse, a lodge, and a large brick house with semicircular facadestill in course of construction. Round the house was a garden newlylaid out. The fences and gates were new and solid; two fire pumpsand a water cart, painted green, stood in a shed; the paths werestraight, the bridges were strong and had handrails. Everything borean impress of tidiness and good management. Some domestic serfs Pierremet, in reply to inquiries as to where the prince lived, pointed out asmall newly built lodge close to the pond. Anton, a man who had lookedafter Prince Andrew in his boyhood, helped Pierre out of his carriage,said that the prince was at home, and showed him into a clean littleanteroom.

　　Pierre was struck by the modesty of the small though clean houseafter the brilliant surroundings in which he had last met his friendin Petersburg.

　　He quickly entered the small reception room with itsstill-unplastered wooden walls redolent of pine, and would have gonefarther, but Anton ran ahead on tiptoe and knocked at a door.

　　"Well, what is it?" came a sharp, unpleasant voice.

　　"A visitor," answered Anton.

　　"Ask him to wait," and the sound was heard of a chair being pushedback.

　　Pierre went with rapid steps to the door and suddenly came face toface with Prince Andrew, who came out frowning and looking old. Pierreembraced him and lifting his spectacles kissed his friend on the cheekand looked at him closely.

　　"Well, I did not expect you, I am very glad," said Prince Andrew.

　　Pierre said nothing; he looked fixedly at his friend withsurprise. He was struck by the change in him. His words were kindlyand there was a smile on his lips and face, but his eyes were dull andlifeless and in spite of his evident wish to do so he could not givethem a joyous and glad sparkle. Prince Andrew had grown thinner,paler, and more manly-looking, but what amazed and estranged Pierretill he got used to it were his inertia and a wrinkle on his browindicating prolonged concentration on some one thought.

　　As is usually the case with people meeting after a prolongedseparation, it was long before their conversation could settle onanything. They put questions and gave brief replies about thingsthey knew ought to be talked over at length. At last theconversation gradually settled on some of the topics at firstlightly touched on: their past life, plans for the future, Pierre'sjourneys and occupations, the war, and so on. The preoccupation anddespondency which Pierre had noticed in his friend's look was nowstill more clearly expressed in the smile with which he listened toPierre, especially when he spoke with joyful animation of the pastor the future. It was as if Prince Andrew would have liked tosympathize with what Pierre was saying, but could not. The latterbegan to feel that it was in bad taste to speak of his enthusiasms,dreams, and hopes of happiness or goodness, in Prince Andrew'spresence. He was ashamed to express his new Masonic views, which hadbeen particularly revived and strengthened by his late tour. Hechecked himself, fearing to seem naive, yet he felt an irresistibledesire to show his friend as soon as possible that he was now aquite different, and better, Pierre than he had been in Petersburg.

　　"I can't tell you how much I have lived through since then. I hardlyknow myself again."

　　"Yes, we have altered much, very much, since then," said PrinceAndrew.

　　"Well, and you? What are your plans?"

　　"Plans!" repeated Prince Andrew ironically. "My plans?" he said,as if astonished at the word. "Well, you see, I'm building. I meanto settle here altogether next year...."

　　Pierre looked silently and searchingly into Prince Andrew's face,which had grown much older.

　　"No, I meant to ask..." Pierre began, but Prince Andrewinterrupted him.

　　"But why talk of me?... Talk to me, yes, tell me about yourtravels and all you have been doing on your estates."

　　Pierre began describing what he had done on his estates, trying asfar as possible to conceal his own part in the improvements that hadbeen made. Prince Andrew several times prompted Pierre's story of whathe had been doing, as though it were all an old-time story, and helistened not only without interest but even as if ashamed of whatPierre was telling him.

　　Pierre felt uncomfortable and even depressed in his friend's companyand at last became silent.

　　"I'll tell you what, my dear fellow," said Prince Andrew, whoevidently also felt depressed and constrained with his visitor, "Iam only bivouacking here and have just come to look round. I amgoing back to my sister today. I will introduce you to her. But ofcourse you know her already," he said, evidently trying to entertain avisitor with whom he now found nothing in common. "We will go afterdinner. And would you now like to look round my place?"

　　They went out and walked about till dinnertime, talking of thepolitical news and common acquaintances like people who do not knoweach other intimately. Prince Andrew spoke with some animation andinterest only of the new homestead he was constructing and itsbuildings, but even here, while on the scaffolding, in the midst ofa talk explaining the future arrangements of the house, he interruptedhimself:

　　"However, this is not at all interesting. Let us have dinner, andthen we'll set off."

　　At dinner, conversation turned on Pierre's marriage.

　　"I was very much surprised when I heard of it," said Prince Andrew.

　　Pierre blushed, as he always did when it was mentioned, and saidhurriedly: "I will tell you some time how it all happened. But youknow it is all over, and forever."

　　"Forever?" said Prince Andrew. "Nothing's forever."

　　"But you know how it all ended, don't you? You heard of the duel?"

　　"And so you had to go through that too!"

　　"One thing I thank God for is that I did not kill that man," saidPierre.

　　"Why so?" asked Prince Andrew. "To kill a vicious dog is a very goodthing really."

　　"No, to kill a man is bad- wrong."

　　"Why is it wrong?" urged Prince Andrew. "It is not given to man toknow what is right and what is wrong. Men always did and always willerr, and in nothing more than in what they consider right and wrong."

　　"What does harm to another is wrong," said Pierre, feeling withpleasure that for the first time since his arrival Prince Andrew wasroused, had begun to talk, and wanted to express what had broughthim to his present state.

　　"And who has told you what is bad for another man?" he asked.

　　"Bad! Bad!" exclaimed Pierre. "We all know what is bad forourselves."

　　"Yes, we know that, but the harm I am conscious of in myself issomething I cannot inflict on others," said Prince Andrew, growingmore and more animated and evidently wishing to express his newoutlook to Pierre. He spoke in French. "I only know two very realevils in life: remorse and illness. The only good is the absence ofthose evils. To live for myself avoiding those two evils is my wholephilosophy now."

　　"And love of one's neighbor, and self-sacrifice?" began Pierre. "No,I can't agree with you! To live only so as not to do evil and not tohave to repent is not enough. I lived like that, I lived for myselfand ruined my life. And only now when I am living, or at least trying"(Pierre's modesty made him correct himself) "to live for others,only now have I understood all the happiness of life. No, I shallnot agree with you, and you do not really believe what you aresaying." Prince Andrew looked silently at Pierre with an ironic smile.

　　"When you see my sister, Princess Mary, you'll get on with her,"he said. "Perhaps you are right for yourself," he added after ashort pause, "but everyone lives in his own way. You lived foryourself and say you nearly ruined your life and only foundhappiness when you began living for others. I experienced just thereverse. I lived for glory.- And after all what is glory? The samelove of others, a desire to do something for them, a desire fortheir approval.- So I lived for others, and not almost, but quite,ruined my life. And I have become calmer since I began to live onlyfor myself."

　　"But what do you mean by living only for yourself?" asked Pierre,growing excited. "What about your son, your sister, and your father?"

　　"But that's just the same as myself- they are not others," explainedPrince Andrew. "The others, one's neighbors, le prochain, as you andPrincess Mary call it, are the chief source of all error and evil.Le prochain- your Kiev peasants to whom you want to do good."

　　And he looked at Pierre with a mocking, challenging expression. Heevidently wished to draw him on.

　　"You are joking," replied Pierre, growing more and more excited."What error or evil can there be in my wishing to do good, and evendoing a little- though I did very little and did it very badly? Whatevil can there be in it if unfortunate people, our serfs, peoplelike ourselves, were growing up and dying with no idea of God andtruth beyond ceremonies and meaningless prayers and are now instructedin a comforting belief in future life, retribution, recompense, andconsolation? What evil and error are there in it, if people were dyingof disease without help while material assistance could so easily berendered, and I supplied them with a doctor, a hospital, and an asylumfor the aged? And is it not a palpable, unquestionable good if apeasant, or a woman with a baby, has no rest day or night and I givethem rest and leisure?" said Pierre, hurrying and lisping. "And I havedone that though badly and to a small extent; but I have donesomething toward it and you cannot persuade me that it was not agood action, and more than that, you can't make me believe that you donot think so yourself. And the main thing is," he continued, "that Iknow, and know for certain, that the enjoyment of doing this good isthe only sure happiness in life."

　　"Yes, if you put it like that it's quite a different matter," saidPrince Andrew. "I build a house and lay out a garden, and you buildhospitals. The one and the other may serve as a pastime. But what'sright and what's good must be judged by one who knows all, but notby us. Well, you want an argument," he added, come on then."

　　They rose from the table and sat down in the entrance porch whichserved as a veranda.

　　"Come, let's argue then," said Prince Andrew, "You talk of schools,"he went on, crooking a finger, "education and so forth; that is, youwant to raise him" (pointing to a peasant who passed by them takingoff his cap) "from his animal condition and awaken in him spiritualneeds, while it seems to me that animal happiness is the onlyhappiness possible, and that is just what you want to deprive himof. I envy him, but you want to make him what I am, without giving himmy means. Then you say, 'lighten his toil.' But as I see it,physical labor is as essential to him, as much a condition of hisexistence, as mental activity is to you or me. You can't helpthinking. I go to bed after two in the morning, thoughts come and Ican't sleep but toss about till dawn, because I think and can't helpthinking, just as he can't help plowing and mowing; if he didn't, hewould go to the drink shop or fall ill. Just as I could not standhis terrible physical labor but should die of it in a week, so hecould not stand my physical idleness, but would grow fat and die.The third thing- what else was it you talked about?" and Prince Andrewcrooked a third finger. "Ah, yes, hospitals, medicine. He has a fit,he is dying, and you come and bleed him and patch him up. He will dragabout as a cripple, a burden to everybody, for another ten years. Itwould be far easier and simpler for him to die. Others are beingborn and there are plenty of them as it is. It would be different ifyou grudged losing a laborer- that's how I regard him- but you want tocure him from love of him. And he does not want that. And besides,what a notion that medicine ever cured anyone! Killed them, yes!" saidhe, frowning angrily and turning away from Pierre.

　　Prince Andrew expressed his ideas so clearly and distinctly thatit was evident he had reflected on this subject more than once, and hespoke readily and rapidly like a man who has not talked for a longtime. His glance became more animated as his conclusions became morehopeless.

　　"Oh, that is dreadful, dreadful!" said Pierre. "I don't understandhow one can live with such ideas. I had such moments myself not longago, in Moscow and when traveling, but at such times I collapsed sothat I don't live at all- everything seems hateful to me... myselfmost of all. Then I don't eat, don't wash... and how is it withyou?..."

　　"Why not wash? That is not cleanly," said Prince Andrew; "on thecontrary one must try to make one's life as pleasant as possible.I'm alive, that is not my fault, so I must live out my life as bestI can without hurting others."

　　"But with such ideas what motive have you for living? One wouldsit without moving, undertaking nothing...."

　　"Life as it is leaves one no peace. I should be thankful to donothing, but here on the one hand the local nobility have done methe honor to choose me to be their marshal; it was all I could do toget out of it. They could not understand that I have not the necessaryqualifications for it- the kind of good-natured, fussy shallownessnecessary for the position. Then there's this house, which must bebuilt in order to have a nook of one's own in which to be quiet. Andnow there's this recruiting."

　　"Why aren't you serving in the army?"

　　"After Austerlitz!" said Prince Andrew gloomily. "No, thank you verymuch! I have promised myself not to serve again in the activeRussian army. And I won't- not even if Bonaparte were here at Smolenskthreatening Bald Hills- even then I wouldn't serve in the Russianarmy! Well, as I was saying," he continued, recovering hiscomposure, "now there's this recruiting. My father is chief in commandof the Third District, and my only way of avoiding active service isto serve under him."

　　"Then you are serving?"

　　"I am."

　　He paused a little while.

　　"And why do you serve?"

　　"Why, for this reason! My father is one of the most remarkable menof his time. But he is growing old, and though not exactly cruel hehas too energetic a character. He is so accustomed to unlimitedpower that he is terrible, and now he has this authority of acommander in chief of the recruiting, granted by the Emperor. If I hadbeen two hours late a fortnight ago he would have had a paymaster'sclerk at Yukhnovna hanged," said Prince Andrew with a smile. "So Iam serving because I alone have any influence with my father, andnow and then can save him from actions which would torment himafterwards."

　　"Well, there you see!"

　　"Yes, but it is not as you imagine," Prince Andrew continued. "I didnot, and do not, in the least care about that scoundrel of a clerk whohad stolen some boots from the recruits; I should even have beenvery glad to see him hanged, but I was sorry for my father- that againis for myself."

　　Prince Andrew grew more and more animated. His eyes glitteredfeverishly while he tried to prove to Pierre that in his actions therewas no desire to do good to his neighbor.

　　"There now, you wish to liberate your serfs," he continued; "that isa very good thing, but not for you- I don't suppose you ever hadanyone flogged or sent to Siberia- and still less for your serfs. Ifthey are beaten, flogged, or sent to Siberia, I don't suppose they areany the worse off. In Siberia they lead the same animal life, andthe stripes on their bodies heal, and they are happy as before. But itis a good thing for proprietors who perish morally, bring remorse uponthemselves, stifle this remorse and grow callous, as a result of beingable to inflict punishments justly and unjustly. It is those peopleI pity, and for their sake I should like to liberate the serfs. Youmay not have seen, but I have seen, how good men brought up in thosetraditions of unlimited power, in time when they grow moreirritable, become cruel and harsh, are conscious of it, but cannotrestrain themselves and grow more and more miserable."

　　Prince Andrew spoke so earnestly that Pierre could not help thinkingthat these thoughts had been suggested to Prince Andrew by hisfather's case.

　　He did not reply.

　　"So that's what I'm sorry for- human dignity, peace of mind, purity,and not the serfs' backs and foreheads, which, beat and shave as youmay, always remain the same backs and foreheads."

　　"No, no! A thousand times no! I shall never agree with you," saidPierre.