Book Eleven: 1812 - Chapter XXIII

by Leo Tolstoy

　　From an unfinished house on the Varvarka, the ground floor ofwhich was a dramshop, came drunken shouts and songs. On benchesround the tables in a dirty little room sat some ten factory hands.Tipsy and perspiring, with dim eyes and wide-open mouths, they wereall laboriously singing some song or other. They were singingdiscordantly, arduously, and with great effort, evidently notbecause they wished to sing, but because they wanted to show they weredrunk and on a spree. One, a tall, fair-haired lad in a clean bluecoat, was standing over the others. His face with its fine straightnose would have been handsome had it not been for his thin,compressed, twitching lips and dull, gloomy, fixed eyes. Evidentlypossessed by some idea, he stood over those who were singing, andsolemnly and jerkily flourished above their heads his white arm withthe sleeve turned up to the elbow, trying unnaturally to spread outhis dirty fingers. The sleeve of his coat kept slipping down and healways carefully rolled it up again with his left hand, as if itwere most important that the sinewy white arm he was flourishingshould be bare. In the midst of the song cries were heard, andfighting and blows in the passage and porch. The tall lad waved hisarm.

　　"Stop it!" he exclaimed peremptorily. "There's a fight, lads!"And, still rolling up his sleeve, he went out to the porch.

　　The factory hands followed him. These men, who under theleadership of the tall lad were drinking in the dramshop that morning,had brought the publican some skins from the factory and for thishad had drink served them. The blacksmiths from a neighboringsmithy, hearing the sounds of revelry in the tavern and supposing itto have been broken into, wished to force their way in too and a fightin the porch had resulted.

　　The publican was fighting one of the smiths at the door, and whenthe workmen came out the smith, wrenching himself free from the tavernkeeper, fell face downward on the pavement.

　　Another smith tried to enter the doorway, pressing against thepublican with his chest.

　　The lad with the turned-up sleeve gave the smith a blow in theface and cried wildly: "They're fighting us, lads!"

　　At that moment the first smith got up and, scratching his bruisedface to make it bleed, shouted in a tearful voice: "Police! Murder!...They've killed a man, lads!"

　　"Oh, gracious me, a man beaten to death- killed!..." screamed awoman coming out of a gate close by.

　　A crowd gathered round the bloodstained smith.

　　"Haven't you robbed people enough- taking their last shirts?" said avoice addressing the publican. "What have you killed a man for, youthief?"

　　The tall lad, standing in the porch, turned his bleared eyes fromthe publican to the smith and back again as if considering whom heought to fight now.

　　"Murderer!" he shouted suddenly to the publican. "Bind him, lads!"

　　"I daresay you would like to bind me!" shouted the publican, pushingaway the men advancing on him, and snatching his cap from his headhe flung it on the ground.

　　As if this action had some mysterious and menacing significance, theworkmen surrounding the publican paused in indecision.

　　"I know the law very well, mates! I'll take the matter to thecaptain of police. You think I won't get to him? Robbery is notpermitted to anybody now a days!" shouted the publican, picking up hiscap.

　　"Come along then! Come along then!" the publican and the tallyoung fellow repeated one after the other, and they moved up thestreet together.

　　The bloodstained smith went beside them. The factory hands andothers followed behind, talking and shouting.

　　At the corner of the Moroseyka, opposite a large house with closedshutters and bearing a bootmaker's signboard, stood a score of thin,worn-out, gloomy-faced bootmakers, wearing overalls and longtattered coats.

　　"He should pay folks off properly," a thin workingman, with frowningbrows and a straggly beard, was saying.

　　"But he's sucked our blood and now he thinks he's quit of us. He'sbeen misleading us all the week and now that he's brought us to thispass he's made off."

　　On seeing the crowd and the bloodstained man the workman ceasedspeaking, and with eager curiosity all the bootmakers joined themoving crowd.

　　"Where are all the folks going?"

　　"Why, to the police, of course!"

　　"I say, is it true that we have been beaten?" "And what did youthink? Look what folks are saying."

　　Questions and answers were heard. The publican, taking advantageof the increased crowd, dropped behind and returned to his tavern.

　　The tall youth, not noticing the disappearance of his foe, waved hisbare arm and went on talking incessantly, attracting general attentionto himself. It was around him that the people chiefly crowded,expecting answers from him to the questions that occupied all theirminds.

　　"He must keep order, keep the law, that's what the government isthere for. Am I not right, good Christians?" said the tall youth, witha scarcely perceptible smile. "He thinks there's no government! Howcan one do without government? Or else there would be plenty who'd robus."

　　"Why talk nonsense?" rejoined voices in the crowd. "Will they giveup Moscow like this? They told you that for fun, and you believedit! Aren't there plenty of troops on the march? Let him in, indeed!That's what the government is for. You'd better listen to whatpeople are saying," said some of the mob pointing to the tall youth.

　　By the wall of China-Town a smaller group of people were gatheredround a man in a frieze coat who held a paper in his hand.

　　"An ukase, they are reading an ukase! Reading an ukase!" criedvoices in the crowd, and the people rushed toward the reader.

　　The man in the frieze coat was reading the broadsheet of August 31When the crowd collected round him he seemed confused, but at thedemand of the tall lad who had pushed his way up to him, he began in arather tremulous voice to read the sheet from the beginning.

　　"Early tomorrow I shall go to his Serene Highness," he read("Sirin Highness," said the tall fellow with a triumphant smile on hislips and a frown on his brow), "to consult with him to act, and to aidthe army to exterminate these scoundrels. We too will take part..."the reader went on, and then paused ("Do you see," shouted the youthvictoriously, "he's going to clear up the whole affair foryou...."), "in destroying them, and will send these visitors to thedevil. I will come back to dinner, and we'll set to work. We willdo, completely do, and undo these scoundrels."

　　The last words were read out in the midst of complete silence. Thetall lad hung his head gloomily. It was evident that no one hadunderstood the last part. In particular, the words "I will come backto dinner," evidently displeased both reader and audience. Thepeople's minds were tuned to a high pitch and this was too simpleand needlessly comprehensible- it was what any one of them mighthave said and therefore was what an ukase emanating from the highestauthority should not say.

　　They all stood despondent and silent. The tall youth moved hislips and swayed from side to side.

　　"We should ask him... that's he himself?"... "Yes, ask himindeed!... Why not? He'll explain"... voices in the rear of thecrowd were suddenly heard saying, and the general attention turnedto the police superintendent's trap which drove into the squareattended by two mounted dragoons.

　　The superintendent of police, who had that morning by CountRostopchin's orders to burn the barges and had in connection with thatmatter acquired a large sum of money which was at that moment in hispocket, on seeing a crowd bearing down upon him told his coachman tostop.

　　"What people are these?" he shouted to the men, who were movingsingly and timidly in the direction of his trap.

　　"What people are these?" he shouted again, receiving no answer.

　　"Your honor..." replied the shopman in the frieze coat, "your honor,in accord with the proclamation of his highest excellency the count,they desire to serve, not sparing their lives, and it is not anykind of riot, but as his highest excellence said..."

　　"The count has not left, he is here, and an order will be issuedconcerning you," said the superintendent of police. "Go on!" heordered his coachman.

　　The crowd halted, pressing around those who had heard what thesuperintendent had said, and looking at the departing trap.

　　The superintendent of police turned round at that moment with ascared look, said something to his coachman, and his horsesincreased their speed.

　　"It's a fraud, lads! Lead the way to him, himself!" shouted the tallyouth. "Don't let him go, lads! Let him answer us! Keep him!"shouted different people and the people dashed in pursuit of the trap.

　　Following the superintendent of police and talking loudly thecrowd went in the direction of the Lubyanka Street.

　　"There now, the gentry and merchants have gone away and left us toperish. Do they think we're dogs?" voices in the crowd were heardsaying more and more frequently.