Book Six: 1808-10 - Chapter XXV

by Leo Tolstoy

　　During that year after his son's departure, Prince NicholasBolkonski's health and temper became much worse. He grew still moreirritable, and it was Princess Mary who generally bore the brunt ofhis frequent fits of unprovoked anger. He seemed carefully to seek outher tender spots so as to torture her mentally as harshly as possible.Princess Mary had two passions and consequently two joys- hernephew, little Nicholas, and religion- and these were the favoritesubjects of the prince's attacks and ridicule. Whatever was spokenof he would bring round to the superstitiousness of old maids, orthe petting and spoiling of children. "You want to make him"- littleNicholas- "into an old maid like yourself! A pity! Prince Andrew wantsa son and not an old maid," he would say. Or, turning toMademoiselle Bourienne, he would ask her in Princess Mary's presencehow she liked our village priests and icons and would joke about them.

　　He continually hurt Princess Mary's feelings and tormented her,but it cost her no effort to forgive him. Could he be to blametoward her, or could her father, whom she knew loved her in spite ofit all, be unjust? And what is justice? The princess never thoughtof that proud word "justice." All the complex laws of man centered forher in one clear and simple law- the law of love and self-sacrificetaught us by Him who lovingly suffered for mankind though He Himselfwas God. What had she to do with the justice or injustice of otherpeople? She had to endure and love, and that she did.

　　During the winter Prince Andrew had come to Bald Hills and hadbeen gay, gentle, and more affectionate than Princess Mary had knownhim for a long time past. She felt that something had happened to him,but he said nothing to her about his love. Before he left he had along talk with his father about something, and Princess Mary noticedthat before his departure they were dissatisfied with one another.

　　Soon after Prince Andrew had gone, Princess Mary wrote to her friendJulie Karagina in Petersburg, whom she had dreamed (as all girlsdream) of marrying to her brother, and who was at that time inmourning for her own brother, killed in Turkey.

　　Sorrow, it seems, is our common lot, my dear, tender friend Julie.

　　Your loss is so terrible that I can only explain it to myself as aspecial providence of God who, loving you, wishes to try you andyour excellent mother. Oh, my friend! Religion, and religion alone,can- I will not say comfort us- but save us from despair. Religionalone can explain to us what without its help man cannot comprehend:why, for what cause, kind and noble beings able to find happiness inlife- not merely harming no one but necessary to the happiness ofothers- are called away to God, while cruel, useless, harmful persons,or such as are a burden to themselves and to others, are leftliving. The first death I saw, and one I shall never forget- that ofmy dear sister-in-law- left that impression on me. Just as you askdestiny why your splendid brother had to die, so I asked why thatangel Lise, who not only never wronged anyone, but in whose soul therewere never any unkind thoughts, had to die. And what do you think,dear friend? Five years have passed since then, and already I, with mypetty understanding, begin to see clearly why she had to die, and inwhat way that death was but an expression of the infinite goodnessof the Creator, whose every action, though generallyincomprehensible to us, is but a manifestation of His infinite lovefor His creatures. Perhaps, I often think, she was too angelicallyinnocent to have the strength to perform all a mother's duties. As ayoung wife she was irreproachable; perhaps she could not have beenso as a mother. As it is, not only has she left us, and particularlyPrince Andrew, with the purest regrets and memories, but probablyshe will there receive a place I dare not hope for myself. But notto speak of her alone, that early and terrible death has had themost beneficent influence on me and on my brother in spite of allour grief. Then, at the moment of our loss, these thoughts could notoccur to me; I should then have dismissed them with horror, but nowthey are very clear and certain. I write all this to you, dear friend,only to convince you of the Gospel truth which has become for me aprinciple of life: not a single hair of our heads will fall withoutHis will. And His will is governed only by infinite love for us, andso whatever befalls us is for our good.

　　You ask whether we shall spend next winter in Moscow. In spite of mywish to see you, I do not think so and do not want to do so. Youwill be surprised to hear that the reason for this is Buonaparte!The case is this: my father's health is growing noticeably worse, hecannot stand any contradiction and is becoming irritable. Thisirritability is, as you know, chiefly directed to political questions.He cannot endure the notion that Buonaparte is negotiating on equalterms with all the sovereigns of Europe and particularly with our own,the grandson of the Great Catherine! As you know, I am quiteindifferent to politics, but from my father's remarks and his talkswith Michael Ivanovich I know all that goes on in the world andespecially about the honors conferred on Buonaparte, who only atBald Hills in the whole world, it seems, is not accepted as a greatman, still less as Emperor of France. And my father cannot stand this.It seems to me that it is chiefly because of his political viewsthat my father is reluctant to speak of going to Moscow; for heforesees the encounters that would result from his way of expressinghis views regardless of anybody. All the benefit he might derivefrom a course of treatment he would lose as a result of the disputesabout Buonaparte which would be inevitable. In any case it will bedecided very shortly.

　　Our family life goes on in the old way except for my brotherAndrew's absence. He, as I wrote you before, has changed very muchof late. After his sorrow he only this year quite recovered hisspirits. He has again become as I used to know him when a child: kind,affectionate, with that heart of gold to which I know no equal. He hasrealized, it seems to me, that life is not over for him. Buttogether with this mental change he has grown physically muchweaker. He has become thinner and more nervous. I am anxious about himand glad he is taking this trip abroad which the doctors recommendedlong ago. I hope it will cure him. You write that in Petersburg heis spoken of as one of the most active, cultivated, and capable of theyoung men. Forgive my vanity as a relation, but I never doubted it.The good he has done to everybody here, from his peasants up to thegentry, is incalculable. On his arrival in Petersburg he received onlyhis due. I always wonder at the way rumors fly from Petersburg toMoscow, especially such false ones as that you write about- I mean thereport of my brother's betrothal to the little Rostova. I do not thinkmy brother will ever marry again, and certainly not her; and this iswhy: first, I know that though he rarely speaks about the wife hehas lost, the grief of that loss has gone too deep in his heart forhim ever to decide to give her a successor and our little angel astepmother. Secondly because, as far as I know, that girl is not thekind of girl who could please Prince Andrew. I do not think he wouldchoose her for a wife, and frankly I do not wish it. But I amrunning on too long and am at the end of my second sheet. Good-by,my dear friend. May God keep you in His holy and mighty care. Mydear friend, Mademoiselle Bourienne, sends you kisses.

　　Mary