Book Six: 1808-10 - Chapter I

by Leo Tolstoy

　　Prince Andrew had spent two years continuously in the country.

　　All the plans Pierre had attempted on his estates- and constantlychanging from one thing to another had never accomplished- werecarried out by Prince Andrew without display and without perceptibledifficulty.

　　He had in the highest degree a practical tenacity which Pierrelacked, and without fuss or strain on his part this set things going.

　　On one of his estates the three hundred serfs were liberated andbecame free agricultural laborers- this being one of the firstexamples of the kind in Russia. On other estates the serfs' compulsorylabor was commuted for a quitrent. A trained midwife was engaged forBogucharovo at his expense, and a priest was paid to teach reading andwriting to the children of the peasants and household serfs.

　　Prince Andrew spent half his time at Bald Hills with his fatherand his son, who was still in the care of nurses. The other half hespent in "Bogucharovo Cloister," as his father called PrinceAndrew's estate. Despite the indifference to the affairs of theworld he had expressed to Pierre, he diligently followed all that wenton, received many books, and to his surprise noticed that when he orhis father had visitors from Petersburg, the very vortex of life,these people lagged behind himself- who never left the country- inknowledge of what was happening in home and foreign affairs.

　　Besides being occupied with his estates and reading a greatvariety of books, Prince Andrew was at this time busy with acritical of survey our last two unfortunate campaigns, and withdrawing up a proposal for a reform of the army rules and regulations.

　　In the spring of 1809 he went to visit the Ryazan estates whichhad been inherited by his son, whose guardian he was.

　　Warmed by the spring sunshine he sat in the caleche looking at thenew grass, the first leaves on the birches, and the first puffs ofwhite spring clouds floating across the clear blue sky. He was notthinking of anything, but looked absent-mindedly and cheerfully fromside to side.

　　They crossed the ferry where he had talked with Pierre the yearbefore. They went through the muddy village, past threshing floors andgreen fields of winter rye, downhill where snow still lodged nearthe bridge, uphill where the clay had been liquefied by the rain, paststrips of stubble land and bushes touched with green here and there,and into a birch forest growing on both sides of the road. In theforest it was almost hot, no wind could be felt. The birches withtheir sticky green leaves were motionless, and lilac-colored flowersand the first blades of green grass were pushing up and lifting lastyear's leaves. The coarse evergreen color of the small fir treesscattered here and there among the birches was an unpleasantreminder of winter. On entering the forest the horses began to snortand sweated visibly.

　　Peter the footman made some remark to the coachman; the latterassented. But apparently the coachman's sympathy was not enough forPeter, and he turned on the box toward his master.

　　"How pleasant it is, your excellency!" he said with a respectfulsmile.

　　"What?"

　　"It's pleasant, your excellency!"

　　"What is he talking about?" thought Prince Andrew. "Oh, thespring, I suppose," he thought as he turned round. "Yes, reallyeverything is green already.... How early! The birches and cherryand alders too are coming out.... But the oaks show no sign yet. Ah,here is one oak!"

　　At the edge of the road stood an oak. Probably ten times the age ofthe birches that formed the forest, it was ten times as thick andtwice as tall as they. It was an enormous tree, its girth twice asgreat as a man could embrace, and evidently long ago some of itsbranches had been broken off and its bark scarred. With its hugeungainly limbs sprawling unsymmetrically, and its gnarled hands andfingers, it stood an aged, stern, and scornful monster among thesmiling birch trees. Only the dead-looking evergreen firs dotted aboutin the forest, and this oak, refused to yield to the charm of springor notice either the spring or the sunshine.

　　"Spring, love, happiness!" this oak seemed to say. "Are you notweary of that stupid, meaningless, constantly repeated fraud? Alwaysthe same and always a fraud? There is no spring, no sun, no happiness!Look at those cramped dead firs, ever the same, and at me too,sticking out my broken and barked fingers just where they havegrown, whether from my back or my sides: as they have grown so Istand, and I do not believe in your hopes and your lies."

　　As he passed through the forest Prince Andrew turned several timesto look at that oak, as if expecting something from it. Under the oak,too, were flowers and grass, but it stood among them scowling,rigid, misshapen, and grim as ever.

　　"Yes, the oak is right, a thousand times right," thought PrinceAndrew. "Let others- the young- yield afresh to that fraud, but weknow life, our life is finished!"

　　A whole sequence of new thoughts, hopeless but mournfullypleasant, rose in his soul in connection with that tree. During thisjourney he, as it were, considered his life afresh and arrived athis old conclusion, restful in its hopelessness: that it was not forhim to begin anything anew- but that he must live out his life,content to do no harm, and not disturbing himself or desiringanything.