Book One: 1805 - Chapter XXVII

by Leo Tolstoy

　　At the appointed hour the prince, powdered and shaven, entered thedining room where his daughter-in-law, Princess Mary, and MademoiselleBourienne were already awaiting him together with his architect, whoby a strange caprice of his employer's was admitted to table thoughthe position of that insignificant individual was such as couldcertainly not have caused him to expect that honor. The prince, whogenerally kept very strictly to social distinctions and rarelyadmitted even important government officials to his table, hadunexpectedly selected Michael Ivanovich (who always went into a cornerto blow his nose on his checked handkerchief) to illustrate the theorythat all men are equals, and had more than once impressed on hisdaughter that Michael Ivanovich was "not a whit worse than you orI." At dinner the prince usually spoke to the taciturn MichaelIvanovich more often than to anyone else.

　　In the dining room, which like all the rooms in the house wasexceedingly lofty, the members of the household and the footmen- onebehind each chair- stood waiting for the prince to enter. The headbutler, napkin on arm, was scanning the setting of the table, makingsigns to the footmen, and anxiously glancing from the clock to thedoor by which the prince was to enter. Prince Andrew was looking ata large gilt frame, new to him, containing the genealogical tree ofthe Princes Bolkonski, opposite which hung another such frame with abadly painted portrait (evidently by the hand of the artistbelonging to the estate) of a ruling prince, in a crown- an allegeddescendant of Rurik and ancestor of the Bolkonskis. Prince Andrew,looking again at that genealogical tree, shook his head, laughing as aman laughs who looks at a portrait so characteristic of the originalas to be amusing.

　　"How thoroughly like him that is!" he said to Princess Mary, who hadcome up to him.

　　Princess Mary looked at her brother in surprise. She did notunderstand what he was laughing at. Everything her father did inspiredher with reverence and was beyond question.

　　"Everyone has his Achilles' heel," continued Prince Andrew."Fancy, with his powerful mind, indulging in such nonsense!"

　　Princess Mary could not understand the boldness of her brother'scriticism and was about to reply, when the expected footsteps wereheard coming from the study. The prince walked in quickly and jauntilyas was his wont, as if intentionally contrasting the briskness ofhis manners with the strict formality of his house. At that moment thegreat clock struck two and another with a shrill tone joined in fromthe drawing room. The prince stood still; his lively glittering eyesfrom under their thick, bushy eyebrows sternly scanned all present andrested on the little princess. She felt, as courtiers do when the Tsarenters, the sensation of fear and respect which the old man inspiredin all around him. He stroked her hair and then patted her awkwardlyon the back of her neck.

　　"I'm glad, glad, to see you," he said, looking attentively intoher eyes, and then quickly went to his place and sat down. "Sitdown, sit down! Sit down, Michael Ianovich!"

　　He indicated a place beside him to his daughter-in-law. A footmanmoved the chair for her.

　　"Ho, ho!" said the old man, casting his eyes on her roundedfigure. "You've been in a hurry. That's bad!"

　　He laughed in his usual dry, cold, unpleasant way, with his lipsonly and not with his eyes.

　　"You must walk, walk as much as possible, as much as possible," hesaid.

　　The little princess did not, or did not wish to, hear his words. Shewas silent and seemed confused. The prince asked her about her father,and she began to smile and talk. He asked about mutualacquaintances, and she became still more animated and chattered awaygiving him greetings from various people and retailing the towngossip.

　　"Countess Apraksina, poor thing, has lost her husband and she hascried her eyes out," she said, growing more and more lively.

　　As she became animated the prince looked at her more and moresternly, and suddenly, as if he had studied her sufficiently and hadformed a definite idea of her, he turned away and addressed MichaelIvanovich.

　　"Well, Michael Ivanovich, our Bonaparte will be having a bad time ofit. Prince Andrew" (he always spoke thus of his son) "has been tellingme what forces are being collected against him! While you and Inever thought much of him."

　　Michael Ivanovich did not at all know when "you and I" had said suchthings about Bonaparte, but understanding that he was wanted as apeg on which to hang the prince's favorite topic, he lookedinquiringly at the young prince, wondering what would follow.

　　"He is a great tactician!" said the prince to his son, pointing tothe architect.

　　And the conversation again turned on the war, on Bonaparte, andthe generals and statesmen of the day. The old prince seemed convincednot only that all the men of the day were mere babies who did not knowthe A B C of war or of politics, and that Bonaparte was aninsignificant little Frenchy, successful only because there were nolonger any Potemkins or Suvorovs left to oppose him; but he was alsoconvinced that there were no political difficulties in Europe and noreal war, but only a sort of puppet show at which the men of the daywere playing, pretending to do something real. Prince Andrew gailybore with his father's ridicule of the new men, and drew him on andlistened to him with evident pleasure.

　　"The past always seems good," said he, "but did not Suvorovhimself fall into a trap Moreau set him, and from which he did notknow how to escape?"

　　"Who told you that? Who?" cried the prince. "Suvorov!" And he jerkedaway his plate, which Tikhon briskly caught. "Suvorov!... Consider,Prince Andrew. Two... Frederick and Suvorov; Moreau!... Moreau wouldhave been a prisoner if Suvorov had had a free hand; but he had theHofs-kriegs-wurst-schnapps-Rath on his hands. It would have puzzledthe devil himself! When you get there you'll find out what thoseHofs-kriegs-wurst-Raths are! Suvorov couldn't manage them so whatchance has Michael Kutuzov? No, my dear boy," he continued, "you andyour generals won't get on against Buonaparte; you'll have to callin the French, so that birds of a feather may fight together. TheGerman, Pahlen, has been sent to New York in America, to fetch theFrenchman, Moreau," he said, alluding to the invitation made that yearto Moreau to enter the Russian service.... "Wonderful!... Were thePotemkins, Suvorovs, and Orlovs Germans? No, lad, either you fellowshave all lost your wits, or I have outlived mine. May God help you,but we'll see what will happen. Buonaparte has become a greatcommander among them! Hm!..."

　　"I don't at all say that all the plans are good," said PrinceAndrew, "I am only surprised at your opinion of Bonaparte. You maylaugh as much as you like, but all the same Bonaparte is a greatgenerall"

　　"Michael Ivanovich!" cried the old prince to the architect who, busywith his roast meat, hoped he had been forgotten: "Didn't I tell youBuonaparte was a great tactician? Here, he says same thing."

　　"To be sure, your excellency." replied the architect.

　　The prince again laughed his frigid laugh.

　　"Buonaparte was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. He has gotsplendid soldiers. Besides he began by attacking Germans. And onlyidlers have failed to beat the Germans. Since the world beganeverybody has beaten the Germans. They beat no one- except oneanother. He made his reputation fighting them."

　　And the prince began explaining all the blunders which, according tohim, Bonaparte had made in his campaigns and even in politics. His sonmade no rejoinder, but it was evident that whatever arguments werepresented he was as little able as his father to change his opinion.He listened, refraining from a reply, and involuntarily wondered howthis old man, living alone in the country for so many years, couldknow and discuss so minutely and acutely all the recent Europeanmilitary and political events.

　　"You think I'm an old man and don't understand the present stateof affairs?" concluded his father. "But it troubles me. I don'tsleep at night. Come now, where has this great commander of yoursshown his skill?" he concluded.

　　"That would take too long to tell," answered the son.

　　"Well, then go to your Buonaparte! Mademoiselle Bourienne, here'sanother admirer of that powder-monkey emperor of yours," heexclaimed in excellent French.

　　"You know, Prince, I am not a Bonapartist!"

　　"Dieu sait quand reviendra"... hummed the prince out of tune and,with a laugh still more so, he quitted the table.

　　The little princess during the whole discussion and the rest ofthe dinner sat silent, glancing with a frightened look now at herfather-in-law and now at Princess Mary. When they left the table shetook her sister-in-law's arm and drew her into another room.

　　"What a clever man your father is," said she; "perhaps that is why Iam afraid of him."

　　"Oh, he is so kind!" answered Princess Mary.