Book Nine: 1812 - Chapter XXII

by Leo Tolstoy

　　Two days later, on the fifteenth of July, an immense number ofcarriages were standing outside the Sloboda Palace.

　　The great halls were full. In the first were the nobility and gentryin their uniforms, in the second bearded merchants in full-skirtedcoats of blue cloth and wearing medals. in the noblemen's hall therewas an incessant movement and buzz of voices. The chief magnates saton high-backed chairs at a large table under the portrait of theEmperor, but most of the gentry were strolling about the room.

　　All these nobles, whom Pierre met every day at the Club or intheir own houses, were in uniform- some in that of Catherine's day,others in that of Emperor Paul, others again in the new uniforms ofAlexander's time or the ordinary uniform of the nobility, and thegeneral characteristic of being in uniform imparted somethingstrange and fantastic to these diverse and familiar personalities,both old and young. The old men, dim-eyed, toothless, bald, sallow,and bloated, or gaunt and wrinkled, were especially striking. Forthe most part they sat quietly in their places and were silent, or, ifthey walked about and talked, attached themselves to someoneyounger. On all these faces, as on the faces of the crowd Petya hadseen in the Square, there was a striking contradiction: the generalexpectation of a solemn event, and at the same time the everydayinterests in a boston card party, Peter the cook, Zinaida Dmitrievna'shealth, and so on.

　　Pierre was there too, buttoned up since early morning in anobleman's uniform that had become too tight for him. He was agitated;this extraordinary gathering not only of nobles but also of themerchant-class- les etats generaux (States-General)- evoked in him awhole series of ideas he had long laid aside but which were deeplygraven in his soul: thoughts of the Contrat social and the FrenchRevolution. The words that had struck him in the Emperor's appeal-that the sovereign was coming to the capital for consultation with hispeople- strengthened this idea. And imagining that in this directionsomething important which he had long awaited was drawing near, hestrolled about watching and listening to conversations, but nowherefinding any confirmation of the ideas that occupied him.

　　The Emperor's manifesto was read, evoking enthusiasm, and then allmoved about discussing it. Besides the ordinary topics ofconversation, Pierre heard questions of where the marshals of thenobility were to stand when the Emperor entered, when a ball should begiven in the Emperor's honor, whether they should group themselvesby districts or by whole provinces... and so on; but as soon as thewar was touched on, or what the nobility had been convened for, thetalk became undecided and indefinite. Then all preferred listeningto speaking.

　　A middle-aged man, handsome and virile, in the uniform of aretired naval officer, was speaking in one of the rooms, and a smallcrowd was pressing round him. Pierre went up to the circle that hadformed round the speaker and listened. Count Ilya Rostov, in amilitary uniform of Catherine's time, was sauntering with a pleasantsmile among the crowd, with all of whom he was acquainted. He tooapproached that group and listened with a kindly smile and nods ofapproval, as he always did, to what the speaker was saying. Theretired naval man was speaking very boldly, as was evident from theexpression on the faces of the listeners and from the fact that somepeople Pierre knew as the meekest and quietest of men walked awaydisapprovingly or expressed disagreement with him. Pierre pushed hisway into the middle of the group, listened, and convinced himself thatthe man was indeed a liberal, but of views quite different from hisown. The naval officer spoke in a particularly sonorous, musical,and aristocratic baritone voice, pleasantly swallowing his r's andgenerally slurring his consonants: the voice of a man calling out tohis servant, "Heah! Bwing me my pipe!" It was indicative ofdissipation and the exercise of authority.

　　"What if the Smolensk people have offahd to waise militia for theEmpewah? Ah we to take Smolensk as our patte'n? If the nobleawistocwacy of the pwovince of Moscow thinks fit, it can show itsloyalty to our sov'weign the Empewah in other ways. Have wefo'gotten the waising of the militia in the yeah 'seven? All thatdid was to enwich the pwiests' sons and thieves and wobbahs...."

　　Count Ilya Rostov smiled blandly and nodded approval.

　　"And was our militia of any use to the Empia? Not at all! It onlywuined our farming! Bettah have another conscwiption... o' ou' menwill wetu'n neithah soldiers no' peasants, and we'll get onlydepwavity fwom them. The nobility don't gwudge theah lives- evewyone of us will go and bwing in more wecwuits, and the sov'weign" (thatwas the way he referred to the Emperor) "need only say the word andwe'll all die fo' him!" added the orator with animation.

　　Count Rostov's mouth watered with pleasure and he nudged Pierre, butPierre wanted to speak himself. He pushed forward, feeling stirred,but not yet sure what stirred him or what he would say. Scarcely hadhe opened his mouth when one of the senators, a man without a tooth inhis head, with a shrewd though angry expression, standing near thefirst speaker, interrupted him. Evidently accustomed to managingdebates and to maintaining an argument, he began in low but distincttones:

　　"I imagine, sir," said he, mumbling with his toothless mouth,"that we have been summoned here not to discuss whether it's bestfor the empire at the present moment to adopt conscription or tocall out the militia. We have been summoned to reply to the appealwith which our sovereign the Emperor has honored us. But to judge whatis best- conscription or the militia- we can leave to the supremeauthority...."

　　Pierre suddenly saw an outlet for his excitement. He hardened hisheart against the senator who was introducing this set and narrowattitude into the deliberations of the nobility. Pierre steppedforward and interrupted him. He himself did not yet know what he wouldsay, but he began to speak eagerly, occasionally lapsing into Frenchor expressing himself in bookish Russian.

　　"Excuse me, your excellency," he began. (He was well acquainted withthe senator, but thought it necessary on this occasion to addresshim formally.) "Though I don't agree with the gentleman..." (hehesitated: he wished to say, "Mon tres honorable preopinant"- "My veryhonorable opponent") "with the gentleman... whom I have not thehonor of knowing, I suppose that the nobility have been summoned notmerely to express their sympathy and enthusiasm but also to considerthe means by which we can assist our Fatherland! I imagine," he wenton, warming to his subject, "that the Emperor himself would not besatisfied to find in us merely owners of serfs whom we are willingto devote to his service, and chair a canon* we are ready to make ofourselves- and not to obtain from us any co-co-counsel."

　　*"Food for cannon."

　　Many persons withdrew from the circle, noticing the senator'ssarcastic smile and the freedom of Pierre's remarks. Only Count Rostovwas pleased with them as he had been pleased with those of the navalofficer, the senator, and in general with whatever speech he hadlast heard.

　　"I think that before discussing these questions," Pierrecontinued, "we should ask the Emperor- most respectfully ask HisMajesty- to let us know the number of our troops and the position inwhich our army and our forces now are, and then..."

　　But scarcely had Pierre uttered these words before he was attackedfrom three sides. The most vigorous attack came from an oldacquaintance, a boston player who had always been well disposed towardhim, Stepan Stepanovich Adraksin. Adraksin was in uniform, and whetheras a result of the uniform or from some other cause Pierre sawbefore him quite a different man. With a sudden expression ofmalevolence on his aged face, Adraksin shouted at Pierre:

　　"In the first place, I tell you we have no right to question theEmperor about that, and secondly, if the Russian nobility had thatright, the Emperor could not answer such a question. The troops aremoved according to the enemy's movements and the number of menincreases and decreases..."

　　Another voice, that of a nobleman of medium height and about fortyyears of age, whom Pierre had formerly met at the gypsies' and knew asa bad cardplayer, and who, also transformed by his uniform, came up toPierre, interrupted Adraksin.

　　"Yes, and this is not a time for discussing," he continued, "but foracting: there is war in Russia! The enemy is advancing to destroyRussia, to desecrate the tombs of our fathers, to carry off ourwives and children." The nobleman smote his breast. "We will allarise, every one of us will go, for our father the Tsar!" heshouted, rolling his bloodshot eyes. Several approving voices wereheard in the crowd. "We are Russians and will not grudge our bloodin defense of our faith, the throne, and the Fatherland! We must ceaseraving if we are sons of our Fatherland! We will show Europe howRussia rises to the defense of Russia!"

　　Pierre wished to reply, but could not get in a word. He felt thathis words, apart from what meaning they conveyed, were less audiblethan the sound of his opponent's voice.

　　Count Rostov at the back of the crowd was expressing approval;several persons, briskly turning a shoulder to the orator at the endof a phrase, said:

　　"That's right, quite right! Just so!"

　　Pierre wished to say that he was ready to sacrifice his money, hisserfs, or himself, only one ought to know the state of affairs inorder to be able to improve it, but he was unable to speak. Manyvoices shouted and talked at the same time, so that Count Rostov hadnot time to signify his approval of them all, and the group increased,dispersed, re-formed, and then moved with a hum of talk into thelargest hall and to the big table. Not only was Pierre's attempt tospeak unsuccessful, but he was rudely interrupted, pushed aside, andpeople turned away from him as from a common enemy. This happenednot because they were displeased by the substance of his speech, whichhad even been forgotten after the many subsequent speeches, but toanimate it the crowd needed a tangible object to love and a tangibleobject to hate. Pierre became the latter. Many other orators spokeafter the excited nobleman, and all in the same tone. Many spokeeloquently and with originality.

　　Glinka, the editor of the Russian Messenger, who was recognized(cries of "author! author!" were heard in the crowd), said that"hell must be repulsed by hell," and that he had seen a childsmiling at lightning flashes and thunderclaps, but "we will not bethat child."

　　"Yes, yes, at thunderclaps!" was repeated approvingly in the backrows of the crowd.

　　The crowd drew up to the large table, at which sat gray-haired orbald seventy-year-old magnates, uniformed and besashed almost all ofwhom Pierre had seen in their own homes with their buffoons, orplaying boston at the clubs. With an incessant hum of voices the crowdadvanced to the table. Pressed by the throng against the high backs ofthe chairs, the orators spoke one after another and sometimes twotogether. Those standing behind noticed what a speaker omitted tosay and hastened to supply it. Others in that heat and crush rackedtheir brains to find some thought and hastened to utter it. The oldmagnates, whom Pierre knew, sat and turned to look first at one andthen at another, and their faces for the most part only expressedthe fact that they found it very hot. Pierre, however, felt excited,and the general desire to show that they were ready to go to alllengths- which found expression in the tones and looks more than inthe substance of the speeches- infected him too. He did not renouncehis opinions, but felt himself in some way to blame and wished tojustify himself.

　　"I only said that it would be more to the purpose to make sacrificeswhen we know what is needed!" said he, trying to be heard above theother voices.

　　One of the old men nearest to him looked round, but his attentionwas immediately diverted by an exclamation at the other side of thetable.

　　"Yes, Moscow will be surrendered! She will be our expiation!"shouted one man.

　　"He is the enemy of mankind!" cried another. "Allow me to speak....""Gentlemen, you are crushing me!..."