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Book 1 Chapter 1

“WELL, PRINCE, Genoa and Lucca are now no more than private estates of the Bonaparte family. No, I warn you, that if you do not tell me we are at war, if you again allow yourself to palliate all the infamies and atrocities of this Antichrist (upon my word, I believe he is), I don't know you in future, you are no longer my friend, no longer my faithful slave, as you say. There, how do you do, how do you do? I see I'm scaring you, sit down and talk to me.”

These words were uttered in July 1805 by Anna Pavlovna Scherer, a distinguished lady of the court, and confidential maid-of-honour to the Empress Marya Fyodorovna. It was her greeting to Prince Vassily, a man high in rank and office, who was the first to arrive at her soirée. Anna Pavlovna had been coughing for the last few days; she had an attack of la grippe, as she said—grippe was then a new word only used by a few people. In the notes she had sent round in the morning by a footman in red livery, she had written to all indiscriminately:

“If you have nothing better to do, count (or prince), and if the prospect of spending an evening with a poor invalid is not too alarming to you, I shall be charmed to see you at my house between 7 and 10. Annette Scherer.”

“Heavens! what a violent outburst!” the prince responded, not in the least disconcerted at such a reception. He was wearing an embroidered court uniform, stockings and slippers, and had stars on his breast, and a bright smile on his flat face.

He spoke in that elaborately choice French, in which our forefathers not only spoke but thought, and with those slow, patronising intonations peculiar to a man of importance who has grown old in court society. He went up to Anna Pavlovna, kissed her hand, presenting her with a view of his perfumed, shining bald head, and complacently settled himself on the sofa.

“First of all, tell me how you are, dear friend. Relieve a friend's anxiety,” he said, with no change of his voice and tone, in which indifference, and even irony, was perceptible through the veil of courtesy and sympathy.

“How can one be well when one is in moral suffering? How can one help being worried in these times, if one has any feeling?” said Anna Pavlovna. “You'll spend the whole evening with me, I hope?”

“And the fête at the English ambassador's? To-day is Wednesday. I must put in an appearance there,” said the prince. “My daughter is coming to fetch me and take me there.”

“I thought to-day's fête had been put off. I confess that all these festivities and fireworks are beginning to pall.”

“If they had known that it was your wish, the fête would have been put off,” said the prince, from habit, like a wound-up clock, saying things he did not even wish to be believed.

“Don't tease me. Well, what has been decided in regard to the Novosiltsov dispatch? You know everything.”

“What is there to tell?” said the prince in a tired, listless tone. “What has been decided? It has been decided that Bonaparte has burnt his ships, and I think that we are about to burn ours.”

Prince Vassily always spoke languidly, like an actor repeating his part in an old play. Anna Pavlovna Scherer, in spite of her forty years, was on the contrary brimming over with excitement and impulsiveness. To be enthusiastic had become her pose in society, and at times even when she had, indeed, no inclination to be so, she was enthusiastic so as not to disappoint the expectations of those who knew her. The affected smile which played continually about Anna Pavlovna's face, out of keeping as it was with her faded looks, expressed a spoilt child's continual consciousness of a charming failing of which she had neither the wish nor the power to correct herself, which, indeed, she saw no need to correct.

In the midst of a conversation about politics, Anna Pavlovna became greatly excited.

“Ah, don't talk to me about Austria! I know nothing about it, perhaps, but Austria has never wanted, and doesn't want war. She is betraying us. Russia alone is to be the saviour of Europe. Our benefactor knows his lofty destiny, and will be true to it. That's the one thing I have faith in. Our good and sublime emperor has the greatest part in the world to play, and he is so virtuous and noble that God will not desert him, and he will fulfil his mission—to strangle the hydra of revolution, which is more horrible than ever now in the person of this murderer and miscreant.… Whom can we reckon on, I ask you? … England with her commercial spirit will not comprehend and cannot comprehend all the loftiness of soul of the Emperor Alexander. She has refused to evacuate Malta. She tries to detect, she seeks a hidden motive in our actions. What have they said to Novosiltsov? Nothing. They didn't understand, they're incapable of understanding the self-sacrifice of our emperor, who desires nothing for himself, and everything for the good of humanity. And what have they promised? Nothing. What they have promised even won't come to anything! Prussia has declared that Bonaparte is invincible, and that all Europe can do nothing against him.… And I don't believe a single word of what was said by Hardenberg or Haugwitz.

That famous Prussian neutrality is a mere snare. I have no faith but in God and the lofty destiny of our adored emperor. He will save Europe!” She stopped short abruptly, with a smile of amusement at her own warmth.

“I imagine,” said the prince, smiling, “that if you had been sent instead of our dear Wintsengerode, you would have carried the Prussian king's consent by storm,—you are so eloquent. Will you give me some tea?”

“In a moment. By the way,” she added subsiding into calm again, “there are two very interesting men to be here to-night, the vicomte de Mortemart; he is connected with the Montmorencies through the Rohans, one of the best families in France. He is one of the good emigrants, the real ones. Then Abbé Morio; you know that profound intellect? He has been received by the emperor. Do you know him?”

“Ah! I shall be delighted,” said the prince. “Tell me,” he added, as though he had just recollected something, speaking with special non-chalance, though the question was the chief motive of his visit: “is it true that the dowager empress desires the appointment of Baron Funke as first secretary to the Vienna legation? He is a poor creature, it appears, that baron.” Prince Vassily would have liked to see his son appointed to the post, which people were trying, through the Empress Marya Fyodorovna, to obtain for the baron.

Anna Pavlovna almost closed her eyes to signify that neither she nor any one else could pass judgment on what the empress might be pleased or see fit to do.

“Baron Funke has been recommended to the empress-mother by her sister,” was all she said in a dry, mournful tone. When Anna Pavlovna spoke of the empress her countenance suddenly assumed a profound and genuine expression of devotion and respect, mingled with melancholy, and this happened whenever she mentioned in conversation her illustrious patroness. She said that her Imperial Majesty had been graciously pleased to show great esteem to Baron Funke, and again a shade of melancholy passed over her face. The prince preserved an indifferent silence. Anna Pavlovna, with the adroitness and quick tact of a courtier and a woman, felt an inclination to chastise the prince for his temerity in referring in such terms to a person recommended to the empress, and at the same time to console him.

“But about your own family,” she said, “do you know that your daughter, since she has come out, charms everybody? People say she is as beautiful as the day.”

The prince bowed in token of respect and acknowledgment.

“I often think,” pursued Anna Pavlovna, moving up to the prince and smiling cordially to him, as though to mark that political and worldly conversation was over and now intimate talk was to begin: “I often think how unfairly the blessings of life are sometimes apportioned. Why has fate given you two such splendid children—I don't include Anatole, your youngest—him I don't like” (she put in with a decision admitting of no appeal, raising her eyebrows)—“such charming children? And you really seem to appreciate them less than any one, and so you don't deserve them.”

And she smiled her ecstatic smile.

“What would you have? Lavater would have said that I have not the bump of paternity,” said the prince.

“Don't keep on joking. I wanted to talk to you seriously. Do you know I'm not pleased with your youngest son. Between ourselves” (her face took its mournful expression), “people have been talking about him to her majesty and commiserating you…”

The prince did not answer, but looking at him significantly, she waited in silence for his answer. Prince Vassily frowned.

“What would you have me do?” he said at last. “You know I have done everything for their education a father could do, and they have both turned out des imbéciles.

Ippolit is at least a quiet fool, while Anatole's a fool that won't keep quiet, that's the only difference,” he said, with a smile, more unnatural and more animated than usual, bringing out with peculiar prominence something surprisingly brutal and unpleasant in the lines about his mouth.

“Why are children born to men like you? If you weren't a father, I could find no fault with you,” said Anna Pavlovna, raising her eyes pensively.

“I am your faithful slave and to you alone I can confess. My children are the bane of my existence. It's the cross I have to bear, that's how I explain it to myself.

What would you have?” … He broke off with a gesture expressing his resignation to a cruel fate. Anna Pavlovna pondered a moment.

“Have you never thought of marrying your prodigal son Anatole? People say,” she said, “that old maids have a mania for matchmaking. I have never been conscious of this failing before, but I have a little person in my mind, who is very unhappy with her father, a relation of ours, the young Princess Bolkonsky.”

Prince Vassily made no reply, but with the rapidity of reflection and memory characteristic of worldly people, he signified by a motion of the head that he had taken in and was considering what she said.

“No, do you know that that boy is costing me forty thousand roubles a year?” he said, evidently unable to restrain the gloomy current of his thoughts. He paused.

“What will it be in five years if this goes on? These are the advantages of being a father.… Is she rich, your young princess?”

“Her father is very rich and miserly. He lives in the country. You know that notorious Prince Bolkonsky, retired under the late emperor, and nicknamed the ‘Prussian King.' He's a very clever man, but eccentric and tedious. The poor little thing is as unhappy as possible. Her brother it is who has lately been married to Liza Meinen, an adjutant of Kutuzov's. He'll be here this evening.”

“Listen, dear Annette,” said the prince, suddenly taking his companion's hand, and for some reason bending it downwards. “Arrange this matter for me and I am your faithful slave for ever and ever. She's of good family and well off. That's all I want.”

And with the freedom, familiarity, and grace that distinguished him, he took the maid-of-honour's hand, kissed it, and as he kissed it waved her hand, while he stretched forward in his low chair and gazed away into the distance.

“Wait,” said Anna Pavlovna, considering. “I'll talk to Lise (the wife of young Bolkonsky) this very evening, and perhaps it can be arranged. I'll try my prentice hand as an old maid in your family.”
 

“啊,公爵,热那亚和卢加现在是波拿巴家族的领地,不过,我得事先对您说,如果您不对我说我们这里处于战争状态,如果您还敢袒护这个基督的敌人(我确乎相信,他是一个基督的敌人)的种种卑劣行径和他一手造成的灾祸,那么我就不再管您了。您就不再是我的朋友,您就不再是,如您所说的,我的忠实的奴隶。啊,您好,您好。我看我正在吓唬您了,请坐,讲给我听。”

一八○五年七月,遐迩闻名的安娜·帕夫洛夫娜·舍列尔——皇后玛丽亚·费奥多罗夫娜的宫廷女官和心腹,在欢迎首位莅临晚会的达官显要瓦西里公爵时说过这番话。安娜·帕夫洛夫娜一连咳嗽几天了。正如她所说,她身罹流行性感冒(那时候,流行性感冒是个新词,只有少数人才用它)。清早由一名红衣听差在分别发出的便函中,千篇一律地写道:“伯爵(或公爵),如您意下尚无任何可取的娱乐,如今日晚上这个可怜的女病人的症候不致使您过分惧怕,则请于七时至十时间莅临寒舍,不胜雀跃。安娜·舍列尔。”

“我的天,大打出手,好不激烈!”一位进来的公爵答道,对这种接见丝毫不感到困惑,他穿着绣花的宫廷礼服、长统袜子、短靴皮鞋,佩戴着多枚明星勋章,扁平的面部流露出愉快的表情。

他讲的是优雅的法语,我们的祖辈不仅借助它来说话,而且借助它来思考,他说起话来带有很平静的、长辈庇护晚辈时特有的腔调,那是上流社会和宫廷中德高望重的老年人独具的语调。他向安娜·帕夫洛夫娜跟前走来,把那洒满香水的闪闪发亮的秃头凑近她,吻吻她的手,就心平气和地坐到沙发上。

“亲爱的朋友,请您首先告诉我,身体可好吗?您让我安静下来,”他说道,嗓音并没有改变,透过他那讲究礼貌的、关怀备至的腔调可以看出冷淡的、甚至是讥讽的意味。

“当你精神上遭受折磨时,身体上怎么能够健康呢?……在我们这个时代,即令有感情,又怎么能够保持宁静呢?”安娜·帕夫洛夫娜说道,“我希望您整个晚上都待在我这儿,好吗?”

“英国公使的喜庆日子呢?今日是星期三,我要在那里露面,”公爵说道,“我女儿顺便来接我,坐一趟车子。”

“我以为今天的庆祝会取消了。Jevousavouequetoutescesfetesettouscesfeuxd'artificecommencentadevenirinBsipides.”①

“若是人家知道您有这种心愿,庆祝会就得取消的。”公爵说道,他俨然像一架上紧发条的钟,习惯地说些他不想要别人相信的话。

“Nemetourmentezpas.Ehbienqu'a-t-ondécidéparrapportàladépêchedeNovosilzoff?Voussaveztout.”②

“怎么对您说好呢?”公爵说道,他的语调冷淡,索然无味。“Qu'a—t—ondécidê?OnadécidêqueBuonaparteabrúlésesvaisseaux,etjecroisquenoussommesentraindebrulerlesnotres.”③

①法语:老实说,所有这些庆祝会、烟火,都令人厌恶极了。

②法语:请您不要折磨我。哦,他们就诺沃西利采夫的紧急情报作出了什么决议?这一切您了若指掌。

③法语:决定了什么?他们决定:波拿巴既已焚烧自己的战船,看来我们也要准备这样做。


瓦西里公爵向来是慢吞吞地说话,像演员口中道出旧台词那样。安娜·帕夫洛夫娜·舍列尔虽说是年满四十,却反而充满活力和激情。

她满腔热情,使她取得了社会地位。有时她甚至没有那种希冀,但为不辜负熟悉她的人们的期望,她还是要做一个满腔热情的人。安娜·帕夫洛夫娜脸上经常流露的冷淡的微笑,虽与她的憔悴的面容不相称,但却像娇生惯养的孩童那样,表示她经常意识到自己的微小缺点,不过她不想,也无法而且认为没有必要去把它改正。

在有关政治行动的谈话当中,安娜·帕夫洛夫娜的心情激昂起来。

“咳!请您不要对我谈论奥地利了!也许我什么都不明白,可是奥地利从来不需要,现在也不需要战争。它把我们出卖了。唯独俄罗斯才应当成为欧洲的救星。我们的恩人知道自己的崇高天职,他必将信守不渝。这就是我唯一的信条。我们慈善的国君当前需要发挥世界上至为伟大的职能。他十分善良,道德高尚,上帝决不会把他抛弃,他必将履行自己的天职,镇压革命的邪恶势力;他如今竟以这个杀手和恶棍作为代表人物,革命就显得愈益可怖了。遵守教规者付出了鲜血,唯独我们才应该讨还这一笔血债。我们要仰赖谁呢?我问您……散布着商业气息的英国决不懂得,也没法懂得亚历山大皇帝品性的高尚。美国拒绝让出马耳他。它想窥看,并且探寻我们行动的用意。他们对诺沃西利采夫说了什么话?……什么也没说。他们不理解,也没法理解我们皇帝的奋不顾身精神,我们皇帝丝毫不贪图私利,他心中总想为全世界造福。他们许诺了什么?什么也没有。他们的许诺,将只是一纸空文!普鲁士已经宣布,说波拿巴无敌于天下,整个欧洲都无能同他作对……我一点也不相信哈登贝格·豪格维茨的鬼话。Cettefameuseneutralitéprussienne,cen'estqu'unpiège.①我只相信上帝,相信我们的贤明君主的高贵命运。他一定能够拯救欧洲!……”她忽然停了下来,对她自己的激昂情绪流露出讥讽的微笑。

“我认为,”公爵面露微笑地说道,“假如不委派我们这个可爱的温岑格罗德,而是委派您,您就会迫使普鲁士国王达成协议。您真是个能言善辩的人。给我斟点茶,好吗?”

“我马上把茶端来。顺带提一句,”她又心平气和地补充说,“今天在这儿有两位饶有风趣的人士,一位是LevicomtedeMostmart,ilestalliéauxMontmorencyparlesRohans,②法国优秀的家族之一。他是侨民之中的一个名副其实的佼佼者。另一位则是L'abbeMorio.③您认识这位聪明透顶的人士么?国王接见过他了。您知道吗?”

“啊!我将会感到非常高兴,”公爵说道,“请您告诉我,”他补充说,仿佛他方才想起某件事,显露出不经心的神态,而他所要问的事情,正是他来拜谒的主要鹄的。“L'impératrice-mère④想委派斗克男爵出任维也纳的头等秘书,真有其事吗?C'estunpauvresire,cebaron,àcequ'ilparait,⑤”瓦西里公爵想把儿子安插到这个职位上,而大家却在千方百计地通过玛丽亚·费奥多罗夫娜为男爵谋到这个职位。

①法语:普鲁士的这种臭名昭著的中立,只是个陷阱。

②法语:莫特马尔子爵,借助罗昂家的关系,已同蒙莫朗西结成亲戚。

③法语:莫里约神甫。

④法语:孀居的太后。

⑤法语:这公爵似乎是个卑微的人。


安娜·帕夫洛夫娜几乎阖上了眼睛,暗示无论是她,或是任何人都不能断定,皇太后乐意或者喜欢做什么事。

“MonsieurlebarondeFunkeaétérecommandéàL'impératrice-mèreparsasoeur,”①她只是用悲哀的、冷冰冰的语调说了这句话。当安娜·帕夫洛夫娜说到太后的名字时,她脸上顿时流露出无限忠诚和十分敬重的表情,而且混杂有每次谈话中提到她的至高无上的庇护者时就会表现出来的忧悒情绪。她说,太后陛下对斗克男爵beaucoupd'estime,②于是她的目光又笼罩着一抹愁云。

公爵不开腔了,现出了冷漠的神态。安娜·帕夫洛夫娜本身具备有廷臣和女人的那种灵活和麻利的本能,待人接物有分寸,她心想抨击公爵,因为他胆敢肆意评论那个推荐给太后的人,而同时又安慰公爵。

“Maisàproposdevotrefamille,”③她说道,“您知道吗?自从您女儿抛头露面,进入交际界以来,faitlesdélicesdetoutlemonde,Onlatrouvebelle,commeLejour.”④

①法语:斗克男爵是由太后的妹妹向太后推荐的。

②法语:十分尊重。

③法语:顺便谈谈您的家庭情况吧。

④法语:她是整个上流社会的宠物。大家都认为她是娇艳的美人。


公爵深深地鞠躬,表示尊敬和谢意。

“我常有这样的想法,”安娜·帕夫洛夫娜在沉默须臾之后继续说道,她将身子凑近公爵,对他露出亲切的微笑,仿佛在表示,政界和交际界的谈话已经结束,现在可以开始推心置腹地交谈,“我常有这样的想法,生活上的幸福有时安排得不公平。为什么命运之神赐予您这么两个可爱的孩子(除开您的小儿子阿纳托利,我不喜欢他),”她扬起眉毛,断然地插上一句话,“为什么命运之神赐予您这么两个顶好的孩子呢?可是您真的不珍惜他们,所以您不配有这么两个孩子。”

她于是兴奋地莞然一笑。

“Quevoulez-vous?Lafaterauraitditquejen'aipaslabossedelapaternité,①”公爵说道。

“请不要再开玩笑。我想和您认真地谈谈。您知道,我不满意您的小儿子。对这些话请别介意,就在我们之间说说吧(她脸上带有忧悒的表情),大家在太后跟前议论他,都对您表示惋惜……”

公爵不回答,但她沉默地、有所暗示地望着他,等待他回答。瓦西里公爵皱了一阵眉头。

“我该怎样办呢?”他终于说道。“您知道,为教育他们,我已竭尽为父的应尽的能事,可是到头来两个都成了desimBbeciles,②伊波利特充其量是个温顺的笨蛋,阿纳托利却是个惴惴不安的笨蛋。这就是二人之间唯一的差异。”他说道,笑得比平常更不自然,更兴奋,同时嘴角边起了皱褶,特别强烈地显得出人意料地粗暴和可憎。

①法语:怎么办呢?拉法特会说我没有父爱的骨相。

②法语:笨蛋。


“为什么像您这种人要生儿女呢?如果您不当父亲,我就无话可责备您了。”安娜·帕夫洛夫娜说道,若有所思地抬起眼睛。

“Jesuisvotre①忠实的奴隶,etàvousseulejepuisl'avou-er,我的孩子们——cesontlesentravesdemonexisBtence,②这就是我的苦难。我是这样自我解释的。Quevoulezvous?……”③他默不作声,用手势表示他听从残酷命运的摆布。

①法语:我是您的。

②法语:我只能向您一人坦白承认。我的孩子们是我的生活负担。

③法语:怎么办呢?


安娜·帕夫洛夫娜陷入了沉思。

“您从来没有想到替您那个浪子阿纳托利娶亲的事么?据说,”她开口说道,“老处女都有lamainedesmariages,①我还不觉得我自己会有这个弱点,可是我这里有一个petitepersonne,②她和她父亲相处,极为不幸,她就是博尔孔斯卡娅,uneparenteanous,uneprincesse.”③尽管瓦西里公爵具备上流社会人士固有的神速的颖悟力和记忆力,但对她的见识他只是摇摇脑袋表示要加以斟酌,并没有作答。

“不,您是不是知道,这个阿纳托利每年都要花费我四万卢布。”他说道,看来无法遏制他那忧悒的心绪。他沉默了片刻。

“若是这样拖下去,五年后那会怎样呢?VoilàL'avantageà'ètrepère。④您那个公爵小姐很富有吗?”

①法语:为人办婚事的癖性。

②法语:少女。

③法语:我们的一个亲戚,公爵小姐。

④法语:这就是为父的益处。


“他父亲很富有,可也很吝啬。他在乡下居住。您知道,这个大名鼎鼎的博尔孔斯基公爵早在已故的皇帝在位时就退休了,他的绰号是‘普鲁士国王'。他是个非常聪明的人,可脾气古怪,难于同他相处。Lapauvrepetiteestmalheureuse,commelespierres,①她有个大哥,在当库图佐夫的副官,就在不久前娶上了丽莎·梅南,今天他要上我这儿来。”

“Ecoutez,chèreAnnette,②”公爵说道,他忽然抓住交谈者的手,不知怎的使它稍微向下弯。“Arrangez-moicetteaffaireetjesuisvotre③最忠诚的奴隶àtoutjamais(奴辈,commemon村长m'écritdes④在汇报中所写的)。她出身于名门望族,又很富有。这一切都是我所需要的。”

他的动作灵活、亲昵而优美,可作为他的表征,他抓起宫廷女官的手吻了吻,握着她的手摇晃了几下,伸开手脚懒洋洋地靠在安乐椅上,抬起眼睛向一旁望去。

“Attendez,”⑤安娜·帕夫洛夫娜思忖着说道,“我今天跟丽莎(Lafemmedujeune博尔孔斯基⑥)谈谈,也许这事情会办妥的。Ceseradansvotrefamille,

quejeferaimonapBprentissagedevieillefille.⑦”

①法语:这个可怜的小姐太不幸了。

②法语:亲爱的安内特,请听我说吧。

③法语:替我办妥这件事,我就永远是您的。

④法语:正如我的村长所写的。

⑤法语:请您等一等。

⑥法语:博尔孔斯基的妻子。

⑦我开始在您家里学习老处女的行当。



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