Book Nine: 1812 - Chapter VIII

by Leo Tolstoy

　　After his interview with Pierre in Moscow, Prince Andrew went toPetersburg, on business as he told his family, but really to meetAnatole Kuragin whom he felt it necessary to encounter. On reachingPetersburg he inquired for Kuragin but the latter had already left thecity. Pierre had warned his brother-in-law that Prince Andrew was onhis track. Anatole Kuragin promptly obtained an appointment from theMinister of War and went to join the army in Moldavia. While inPetersburg Prince Andrew met Kutuzov, his former commander who wasalways well disposed toward him, and Kutuzov suggested that heshould accompany him to the army in Moldavia, to which the old generalhad been appointed commander in chief. So Prince Andrew, havingreceived an appointment on the headquarters staff, left for Turkey.

　　Prince Andrew did not think it proper to write and challengeKuragin. He thought that if he challenged him without some fresh causeit might compromise the young Countess Rostova and so he wanted tomeet Kuragin personally in order to find a fresh pretext for a duel.But he again failed to meet Kuragin in Turkey, for soon after PrinceAndrew arrived, the latter returned to Russia. In a new country,amid new conditions, Prince Andrew found life easier to bear. Afterhis betrothed had broken faith with him- which he felt the moreacutely the more he tried to conceal its effects- the surroundingsin which he had been happy became trying to him, and the freedom andindependence he had once prized so highly were still more so. Not onlycould he no longer think the thoughts that had first come to him as helay gazing at the sky on the field of Austerlitz and had laterenlarged upon with Pierre, and which had filled his solitude atBogucharovo and then in Switzerland and Rome, but he even dreaded torecall them and them and the bright and boundless horizons they hadrevealed. He was now concerned only with the nearest practical mattersunrelated to his past interests, and he seized on these the moreeagerly the more those past interests were closed to him. It was as ifthat lofty, infinite canopy of heaven that had once towered abovehim had suddenly turned into a low, solid vault that weighed him down,in which all was clear, but nothing eternal or mysterious.

　　Of the activities that presented themselves to him, army service wasthe simplest and most familiar. As a general on duty on Kutuzov'sstaff, he applied himself to business with zeal and perseverance andsurprised Kutuzov by his willingness and accuracy in work. Nothaving found Kuragin in Turkey, Prince Andrew did not think itnecessary to rush back to Russia after him, but all the same he knewthat however long it might be before he met Kuragin, despite hiscontempt for him and despite all the proofs he deduced to convincehimself that it was not worth stooping to a conflict with him- he knewthat when he did meet him he would not be able to resist calling himout, any more than a ravenous man can help snatching at food. Andthe consciousness that the insult was not yet avenged, that his rancorwas still unspent, weighed on his heart and poisoned the artificialtranquillity which he managed to obtain in Turkey by means ofrestless, plodding, and rather vainglorious and ambitious activity.

　　In the year 1812, when news of the war with Napoleon reachedBucharest- where Kutuzov had been living for two months, passing hisdays and nights with a Wallachian woman- Prince Andrew asked Kutuzovto transfer him to the Western Army. Kutuzov, who was already weary ofBolkonski's activity which seemed to reproach his own idleness, veryreadily let him go and gave him a mission to Barclay de Tolly.

　　Before joining the Western Army which was then, in May, encampedat Drissa, Prince Andrew visited Bald Hills which was directly onhis way, being only two miles off the Smolensk highroad. During thelast three years there had been so many changes in his life, he hadthought, felt, and seen so much (having traveled both in the eastand the west), that on reaching Bald Hills it struck him as strangeand unexpected to find the way of life there unchanged and still thesame in every detail. He entered through the gates with their stonepillars and drove up the avenue leading to the house as if he wereentering an enchanted, sleeping castle. The same old stateliness,the same cleanliness, the same stillness reigned there, and insidethere was the same furniture, the same walls, sounds, and smell, andthe same timid faces, only somewhat older. Princess Mary was still thesame timid, plain maiden getting on in years, uselessly andjoylessly passing the best years of her life in fear and constantsuffering. Mademoiselle Bourienne was the same coquettish,self-satisfied girl, enjoying every moment of her existence and fullof joyous hopes for the future. She had merely become moreself-confident, Prince Andrew thought. Dessalles, the tutor he hadbrought from Switzerland, was wearing a coat of Russian cut andtalking broken Russian to the servants, but was still the samenarrowly intelligent, conscientious, and pedantic preceptor. The oldprince had changed in appearance only by the loss of a tooth, whichleft a noticeable gap on one side of his mouth; in character he wasthe same as ever, only showing still more irritability andskepticism as to what was happening in the world. Little Nicholasalone had changed. He had grown, become rosier, had curly dark hair,and, when merry and laughing, quite unconsciously lifted the upper lipof his pretty little mouth just as the little princess used to do.He alone did not obey the law of immutability in the enchanted,sleeping castle. But though externally all remained as of old, theinner relations of all these people had changed since Prince Andrewhad seen them last. The household was divided into two alien andhostile camps, who changed their habits for his sake and only metbecause he was there. To the one camp belonged the old prince,Madmoiselle Bourienne, and the architect; to the other PrincessMary, Dessalles, little Nicholas, and all the old nurses and maids.

　　During his stay at Bald Hills all the family dined together, butthey were ill at ease and Prince Andrew felt that he was a visitor forwhose sake an exception was being made and that his presence made themall feel awkward. Involuntarily feeling this at dinner on the firstday, he was taciturn, and the old prince noticing this also becamemorosely dumb and retired to his apartments directly after dinner.In the evening, when Prince Andrew went to him and, trying to rousehim, began to tell him of the young Count Kamensky's campaign, the oldprince began unexpectedly to talk about Princess Mary, blaming her forher superstitions and her dislike of Mademoiselle Bourienne, who, hesaid, was the only person really attached to him.

　　The old prince said that if he was ill it was only because ofPrincess Mary: that she purposely worried and irritated him, andthat by indulgence and silly talk she was spoiling little PrinceNicholas. The old prince knew very well that he tormented his daughterand that her life was very hard, but he also knew that he could nothelp tormenting her and that she deserved it. "Why does Prince Andrew,who sees this, say nothing to me about his sister? Does he think mea scoundrel, or an old fool who, without any reason, keeps his owndaughter at a distance and attaches this Frenchwoman to himself? Hedoesn't understand, so I must explain it, and he must hear me out,"thought the old prince. And he began explaining why he could not putup with his daughter's unreasonable character.

　　"If you ask me," said Prince Andrew, without looking up (he wascensuring his father for the first time in his life), "I did notwish to speak about it, but as you ask me I will give you my frankopinion. If there is any misunderstanding and discord between youand Mary, I can't blame her for it at all. I know how she loves andrespects you. Since you ask me," continued Prince Andrew, becomingirritable- as he was always liable to do of late- "I can only say thatif there are any misunderstandings they are caused by that worthlesswoman, who is not fit to be my sister's companion."

　　The old man at first stared fixedly at his son, and an unnaturalsmile disclosed the fresh gap between his teeth to which Prince Andrewcould not get accustomed.

　　"What companion, my dear boy? Eh? You've already been talking itover! Eh?"

　　"Father, I did not want to judge," said Prince Andrew, in a hard andbitter tone, "but you challenged me, and I have said, and always shallsay, that Mary is not to blame, but those to blame- the one toblame- is that Frenchwoman."

　　"Ah, he has passed judgment... passed judgement!" said the old manin a low voice and, as it seemed to Prince Andrew, with someembarrassment, but then he suddenly jumped up and cried: "Be off, beoff! Let not a trace of you remain here!..."

　　Prince Andrew wished to leave at once, but Princess Mary persuadedhim to stay another day. That day he did not see his father, who didnot leave his room and admitted no one but Mademoiselle Bourienneand Tikhon, but asked several times whether his son had gone. Nextday, before leaving, Prince Andrew went to his son's rooms. The boy,curly-headed like his mother and glowing with health, sat on his knee,and Prince Andrew began telling him the story of Bluebeard, but fellinto a reverie without finishing the story. He thought not of thispretty child, his son whom he held on his knee, but of himself. Hesought in himself either remorse for having angered his father orregret at leaving home for the first time in his life on bad termswith him, and was horrified to find neither. What meant still moreto him was that he sought and did not find in himself the formertenderness for his son which he had hoped to reawaken by caressing theboy and taking him on his knee.

　　"Well, go on!" said his son.

　　Prince Andrew, without replying, put him down from his knee and wentout of the room.

　　As soon as Prince Andrew had given up his daily occupations, andespecially on returning to the old conditions of life amid which hehad been happy, weariness of life overcame him with its formerintensity, and he hastened to escape from these memories and to findsome work as soon as possible.

　　"So you've decided to go, Andrew?" asked his sister.

　　"Thank God that I can," replied Prince Andrew. "I am very sorryyou can't."

　　"Why do you say that?" replied Princess Mary. "Why do you saythat, when you are going to this terrible war, and he is so old?Mademoiselle Bourienne says he has been asking about you...."

　　As soon as she began to speak of that, her lips trembled and hertears began to fall. Prince Andrew turned away and began pacing theroom.

　　"Ah, my God! my God! When one thinks who and what- what trash- cancause people misery!" he said with a malignity that alarmed PrincessMary.

　　She understood that when speaking of "trash" he referred not only toMademoiselle Bourienne, the cause of her misery, but also to the manwho had ruined his own happiness.

　　"Andrew! One thing I beg, I entreat of you!" she said, touchinghis elbow and looking at him with eyes that shone through her tears."I understand you" (she looked down). "Don't imagine that sorrow isthe work of men. Men are His tools." She looked a little abovePrince Andrew's head with the confident, accustomed look with whichone looks at the place where a familiar portrait hangs. "Sorrow issent by Him, not by men. Men are His instruments, they are not toblame. If you think someone has wronged you, forget it and forgive! Wehave no right to punish. And then you will know the happiness offorgiving."

　　"If I were a woman I would do so, Mary. That is a woman's virtue.But a man should not and cannot forgive and forget," he replied, andthough till that moment he had not been thinking of Kuragin, all hisunexpended anger suddenly swelled up in his heart.

　　"If Mary is already persuading me forgive, it means that I oughtlong ago to have punished him," he thought. And giving her nofurther reply, he began thinking of the glad vindictive moment when hewould meet Kuragin who he knew was now in the army.

　　Princess Mary begged him to stay one day more, saying that sheknew how unhappy her father would be if Andrew left without beingreconciled to him, but Prince Andrew replied that he would probablysoon be back again from the army and would certainly write to hisfather, but that the longer he stayed now the more embittered theirdifferences would become.

　　"Good-by, Andrew! Remember that misfortunes come from God, and menare never to blame," were the last words he heard from his sister whenhe took leave of her.

　　"Then it must be so!" thought Prince Andrew as he drove out of theavenue from the house at Bald Hills. "She, poor innocent creature,is left to be victimized by an old man who has outlived his wits.The old man feels he is guilty, but cannot change himself. My boy isgrowing up and rejoices in life, in which like everybody else hewill deceive or be deceived. And I am off to the army. Why? I myselfdon't know. I want to meet that man whom I despise, so as to givehim a chance to kill and laugh at me!

　　These conditions of life had been the same before, but then theywere all connected, while now they had all tumbled to pieces. Onlysenseless things, lacking coherence, presented themselves one afteranother to Prince Andrew's mind.