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Book 1 Chapter 24

AT THE EXACT HOUR, the prince, powdered and shaven, walked into the dining-room, where there were waiting for him his daughter-in-law, Princess Marya, Mademoiselle Bourienne, and the prince's architect, who, by a strange whim of the old gentleman's, dined at his table, though being an insignificant person of no social standing, he would not naturally have expected to be treated with such honour. The prince, who was in practice a firm stickler for distinctions of tank, and rarely admitted to his table even important provincial functionaries, had suddenly pitched on the architect Mihail Ivanovitch, blowing his nose in a check pocket-handkerchief in the corner, to illustrate the theory that all men are equal, and had more than once impressed upon his daughter that Mihail Ivanovitch was every whit as good as himself and her. At table the prince addressed his conversation to the taciturn architect more often than to any one.

In the dining-room, which, like all the other rooms in the house, was immensely lofty, the prince's entrance was awaited by all the members of his household and the footmen, standing behind each chair. The butler with a table-napkin on his arm scanned the setting of the table, making signs to the footmen, and continually he glanced uneasily from the clock on the wall to the door, by which the prince was to enter. Prince Andrey stood at an immense golden frame on the wall that was new to him. It contained the genealogical tree of the Bolkonskys, and hanging opposite it was a frame, equally immense, with a badly painted representation (evidently the work of some household artist) of a reigning prince in a crown, intended for the descendant of Rurik and founder of the family of the Bolkonsky princes. Prince Andrey looked at this genealogical tree shaking his head, and he laughed.

“There you have him all over!” he said to Princess Marya as she came up to him.

Princess Marya looked at her brother in surprise. She did not know what he was smiling at. Everything her father did inspired in her reverence that did not admit of criticism.

“Every one has his weak spot,” Prince Andrey went on; “with his vast intellect to condescend to such triviality!”

Princess Marya could not understand the boldness of her brother's criticism and was making ready to protest, when the step they were all listening for was heard coming from the study. The prince walked in with a quick, lively step, as he always walked, as though intentionally contrasting the elasticity of his movements with the rigidity of the routine of the house. At that instant the big clock struck two, and another clock in the drawing-room echoed it in thinner tones. The prince stood still; his keen, stern eyes gleaming under his bushy, overhanging brows scanned all the company and rested on the little princess. The little princess experienced at that moment the sensation that courtiers know on the entrance of the Tsar, that feeling of awe and veneration that this old man inspired in every one about him. He stroked the little princess on the head, and then with an awkward movement patted her on her neck.

“I'm glad, glad to see you,” he said, and looking intently into her eyes he walked away and sat down in his place. “Sit down, sit down, Mihail Ivanovitch, sit down.”

He pointed his daughter-in-law to a seat beside him. The footman moved a chair back for her.

“Ho, ho!” said the old man, looking at her rounded figure. “You've not lost time; that's bad!” He laughed a dry, cold, unpleasant laugh, laughing as he always did with his lips, but not with his eyes. “You must have exercise, as much exercise as possible, as much as possible,” he said.

The little princess did not hear or did not care to hear his words. She sat dumb and seemed disconcerted. The prince asked after her father, and she began to talk and to smile. He asked her about common acquaintances; the princess became more and more animated, and began talking away, giving the prince greetings from various people and retailing the gossip of the town.

“Poor Countess Apraxin has lost her husband; she has quite cried her eyes out, poor dear,” she said, growing more and more lively.

As she became livelier, the prince looked more and more sternly at her, and all at once, as though he had studied her sufficiently and had formed a clear idea of her, he turned away and addressed Mihail Ivanovitch:

“Well, Mihail Ivanovitch, our friend Bonaparte is to have a bad time of it. Prince Andrey” (this was how he always spoke of his son) “has been telling me what forces are being massed against him! While you and I have always looked upon him as a very insignificant person.”

Mihail Ivanovitch, utterly at a loss to conjecture when “you and I” had said anything of the sort about Bonaparte, but grasping that he was wanted for the introduction of the prince's favourite subject, glanced in wonder at the young prince, not knowing what was to come next.

“He's a great tactician!” said the prince to his son, indicating the architect, and the conversation turned again on the war, on Bonaparte, and the generals and political personages of the day. The old prince was, it seemed, convinced that all the public men of the period were mere babes who had no idea of the A B C of military and political matters; while Bonaparte, according to him, was an insignificant Frenchman, who had met with success simply because there were no Potyomkins and Suvorovs to oppose him. He was even persuaded firmly that there were no political difficulties in Europe, that there was no war indeed, but only a sort of marionette show in which the men of the day took part, pretending to be doing the real thing. Prince Andrey received his father's jeers at modern people gaily, and with obvious pleasure drew his father out and listened to him.

“Does everything seem good that was done in the past?” he said; “why, didn't Suvorov himself fall into the trap Moreau laid for him, and wasn't he unable to get out of it too?”

“Who told you that? Who said so?” cried the prince. “Suvorov!” And he flung away his plate, which Tihon very neatly caught. “Suvorov!… Think again, Prince Andrey. There were two men—Friedrich and Suvorov … Moreau! Moreau would have been a prisoner if Suvorov's hands had been free, but his hands were tied by the Hofsskriegswurstschnappsrath; the devil himself would have been in a tight place. Ah, you'll find out what these Hofskriegswurstschnappsraths are like! Suvorov couldn't get the better of them, so how is Mihail Kutuzov going to do it? No, my dear,” he went on; “so you and your generals aren't able to get round Bonaparte; you must needs call in Frenchmen —set a thief to catch a thief! The German, Pahlen, has been sent to New York in America to get the Frenchman Moreau,” he said, alluding to the invitation that had that year been made to Moreau to enter the Russian service. “A queer business!…Why the Potyomkins, the Suvorovs, the Orlovs, were they Germans? No, my lad, either you have all lost your wits, or I have outlived mine. God help you, and we shall see. Bonaparte's become a great military leader among them! H'm!…”

“I don't say at all that all those plans are good,” said Prince Andrey; “only I can't understand how you can have such an opinion of Bonaparte. Laugh, if you like, but Bonaparte is any way a great general!”

“Mihail Ivanovitch!” the old prince cried to the architect, who, absorbed in the roast meat, hoped they had forgotten him. “Didn't I tell you Bonaparte was a great tactician? Here he says so too.”

“To be sure, your excellency,” replied the architect. The prince laughed again his frigid laugh.

“Bonaparte was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. He has splendid soldiers. And he attacked the Germans first too. And any fool can beat the Germans. From the very beginning of the world every one has beaten the Germans. And they've never beaten any one. They only conquer each other. He made his reputation fighting against them.”

And the prince began analysing all the blunders that in his opinion Bonaparte had committed in his wars and even in politics. His son did not protest, but it was evident that whatever arguments were advanced against him, he was as little disposed to give up his opinion as the old prince himself. Prince Andrey listened and refrained from replying. He could not help wondering how this old man, living so many years alone and never leaving the country, could know all the military and political events in Europe of the last few years in such detail and with such accuracy, and form his own judgment on them.

“You think I'm an old man and don't understand the actual position of affairs?” he wound up. “But I'll tell you I'm taken up with it! I don't sleep at nights. Come, where has this great general of yours proved himself to be such?”

“That would be a long story,” answered his son.

“You go along to your Bonaparte. Mademoiselle Bourienne, here is another admirer of your blackguard of an emperor!” he cried in excellent French.

“You know that I am not a Bonapartist, prince.”

“God knows when he'll come back …” the prince hummed in falsetto, laughed still more falsetto, and got up from the table.

The little princess had sat silent during the whole discussion and the rest of the dinner, looking in alarm first at Princess Marya and then at her father-in-law. When they left the dinner-table, she took her sister-in-law's arm and drew her into another room.

“What a clever man your father is,” she said; “perhaps that is why I am afraid of him.”

“Oh, he is so kind!” said Princess Marya.


在那规定的时刻,老公爵扑了香粉,刮了脸,走到餐厅里去,儿媳妇、公爵小姐玛丽亚、布里安小姐和公爵的建筑师都在这里等候他。出于公爵的怪癖,这位建筑师竟被准许入席就座,这个渺小的人物就地位而论,是决不能奢求这种荣幸的。公爵在生活上坚定地遵守等级制度,甚至省府的达官显贵也很少准许入席就座。那个常在角落里用方格手帕擤鼻涕的建筑师米哈伊尔·伊万诺维奇忽然被准许入席就座了,公爵用他这个惯例来表明,人人一律平等,他不只一次开导女儿说,米哈伊尔·伊万诺维奇没有一点不如我们的地方。在筵席间,公爵常和寡言鲜语的米哈伊尔·伊万诺维奇开心畅谈。

这餐厅又高又大,和住室里所有的房间不相上下,家眷和堂倌在每把椅子背后站着,等候公爵走出门来;管家的手上搭着餐巾,他环视着餐桌的摆设,向仆役使眼色,不时地把激动不安的目光从挂钟移向公爵即将出现的门口。安德烈公爵端详着一副他初次看见的金色大框架,框架里面放着博尔孔斯基公爵家的系谱表,对面悬挂着一样大的框架,里面放着一副做工蹩脚的(显然是家庭画师的手笔)享有世袭统治权的公爵的戴冕画像,他一定是出身于留里克家族,即是博尔孔斯基家的始祖。安德烈公爵看系谱表时摇摇头,不时地暗自微笑,那神态就像他看见一副俨像自己的肖像而觉得可笑似的。

“我在这儿认出是他啊!”他对向他身边走来的公爵小姐玛丽亚说道。

公爵小姐玛丽亚惊奇地望望她的哥哥。她不明白他在暗笑什么。父亲所做的一切在她身上激起一种无法评论的敬意。

“每个人都有致命的弱点,”安德烈公爵继续说下去,“以他那卓越的的才智,donnersdansceridicule!”①

①法语:竟然受制于这等琐事。


名叫玛丽亚的公爵小姐无法理解长兄提出的大胆的见解,她准备向他反驳,书斋里忽然传出人人期待的步履声,公爵像平素一样迈着急速的脚步,高高兴兴地走进门来,仿佛蓄意用那来去匆匆的样子和严格的家庭秩序形成相反的对比。正在这一转瞬之间,大钟敲响了两声,客厅里的另一只钟用那尖细的声音作出了响应。公爵停步了。他那炯炯有神、富于表情而严峻的目光从垂下的浓眉下向大家环顾一番,然后投射在年轻的公爵夫人身上。年轻的公爵夫人这时感觉到一种有如近臣见皇帝出朝时的感情;也就是这位老人使他的心腹产生的一种敬畏之感。他用手摸了摸公爵夫人的头,然后呆笨地拍了一下她的后脑。

“我真高兴,我真高兴,”他说道,又聚精会神地望了一下她的眼睛,就飞快地走开,坐回自己的座位,“请坐,请坐!

米哈伊尔·伊万诺维奇,请坐。”

他向儿媳妇指了指身边的座位。堂倌给她移开椅子。

“嘿嘿!”老年人望着她那浑圆的腰部,说道,“太匆忙了,不好!”

他像平常那样只用嘴巴笑,而不用眼睛笑,他乏味地、冷漠而且不痛快地笑起来。

“你应当走动走动,尽量,尽量多走动。”他说道。

矮小的公爵夫人没有听见或是不想听他说话。她沉默不言,觉得困惑不安。公爵向她问到她的父亲的情况,公爵夫人于是微露笑容,开口说话了。他又向她问到一般的熟人的情况,公爵夫人现出更加兴奋的样子,开始述说起来,她代人向公爵问候,并且转告城里的流言飞语。

“LacomtesseApraksine,lapauvre,aperdusonmari,etelleapleurèleslarmesdesesyeux,”①她说道,显得更加兴奋起来。

①法语:可怜的伯爵夫人阿普拉克辛娜丧失了丈夫,痛哭了很久,眼睛都哭坏了,可怜的女人。


她越来越显得兴致勃勃,公爵就越来越严肃地注视着她。公爵忽然转过脸去;不再理睬她,好像他已经把她研究得够多的了,对她已有明确的概念,他然后便向米哈伊尔·伊万诺维奇转过脸去。

“喂,米哈伊尔·伊万诺维奇,我们的波拿巴要遭殃了。安德烈公爵(他向来都用第三人称称呼自己的儿子)告诉我,为了击溃他,聚集了多么雄厚的兵力啊!我们一向认为他是个微不足道的人。”

米哈伊尔·伊万诺维奇根本不知道“我们”在什么时候谈论过波拿巴的事,可是他心里明白,人家有求于他,目的乃在于打开自己喜欢的话匣子。他诧异地望了望年轻的公爵,自己并不知道,这次谈话会产生何种结果。

“他是我们这里的一位伟大的战术家!”公爵用手指着建筑师对儿子说。

谈话又涉及战争,涉及波拿巴和现时的将军以及国事活动家。看来,老公爵不仅相信,当前的政要人物全是一些不通晓军事和国务知识初阶的乳臭小子,波拿巴也是一个微不足道的法国佬,他所以大受欢迎,只是因为没有波将金或者苏沃洛夫式的人物和他对立罢了。他甚至相信,欧洲并没有任何政治上的障碍,也没有战争,只是一些现时的活动家装作一副办事的模样,演演木偶戏罢了。安德烈公爵愉快地忍受父亲对现代人的嘲笑,明显地露出高兴的神色,喊他父亲谈话,而他自己聆听着。

“过去的一切看来都是好的,”他说道,“那个苏沃洛夫岂不落进了莫罗布下的陷阱,无法自拔了么?”

“是谁对你讲的呢?谁讲的呢?”公爵嚷道,“苏沃洛夫吧!”他扔开一只盘子,吉洪赶快将它接住。“苏沃洛夫吧!……安德烈公爵,想想吧。我知道有两个人:一个是腓特烈,一个是苏沃洛夫……莫罗呀!假如苏沃洛夫有权在握,莫罗该当俘虏了,不过他受制于军事参议院。他倒霉透了,鬼都讨厌他。你到了那个地方,你就能尝到腊肠烧酒的滋味啊!苏沃洛夫无法制服他们,米哈伊尔·库图佐夫又怎能应付呢?行不通,朋友,”他继续说下去,“你们和我们的将军们制服不了波拿巴,就得雇用一批法国人,让他们认不清自己人,自己人屠杀自己人。德国人帕伦被派往美国纽约去寻找法国人莫罗,”他说道,暗指当年聘请莫罗至俄军任职一事。“真怪!怎么啦,那波将金、苏沃洛夫、奥尔洛夫式的人物难道都是德国人吗?不是的,朋友,或者是你们都发疯了,或都是我已经昏瞆了。愿上帝保佑你们,我们来瞧瞧吧。在他们那儿,波拿巴竟然当上伟大的统帅了!哼!……”

“我说的根本不是,他的指示都是可取的,”安德烈公爵说道,“不过,我没法弄明白,您怎能这样评说波拿巴。您想怎样嘲笑,就怎样嘲笑吧,而波拿巴仍然是个伟大的统帅!”

“米哈伊尔·伊万诺维奇!”老公爵对那个开始吃烤菜、希望别人把他忘却的建筑师喊道,“我以前对您说过波拿巴是个伟大的战术家,是吗?您看,他也是这样说的。”

“可不是,公爵大人。”建筑师答道。

公爵又冷笑起来。

“波拿巴生来有福分。他的士兵很精锐,而且他先向德国人进攻,只有懒人才不打德国人。自从宇宙存在以来,大家都打德国人。他们打不赢任何人。他们只晓得互相杀戮。他就足凭这一手闻名于世的。”

公爵于是就其看法开始分析波拿巴在战争乃至国务上所犯的过失,儿子不表示异议,但是可以看出,无论向他提出任何论据,他都像老公爵那样很难改变自己的看法。安德烈公爵谛听着,克制着不予辩驳,而且情不自禁地感到谅异,这个老年人足不出户在农村独处许多年,对近几年来欧洲的军事政治局势知晓得如此详尽,评述得如此精辟。

“你认为我这个老头儿不了解目前的事态吗?”他说了一句收尾的话。“我念念不忘时事啊!我彻夜目不交睫。嘿,你那个伟大的统帅究竟在哪里大显身手呀?”

“这说来话长。”儿子答道。

“你到你自己的波拿巴那里去好了M—lleBourienne,voilàencoreunadmirateurdeuotregoujatd'empereur!”①他操着非常漂亮的法国话,喊道:

“Voussavez,quejenesuispasbonapartiste,mon

prince.”②

“OieuSaitquandneviendva…”③公爵不自然地唱道,更加不自然地发笑,从餐桌后面走出来。

在争辩和不争辩的午膳的其余时间里,矮小的公爵夫人默不作声,时而惊惶不安地望望公爵小姐玛丽亚,时而望望老公公,在她从桌子后面走出来时,她一把抓住小姑的手臂,把她喊进另一个房间里。

“Commec'estunhommed'espritvotre,”她说道,“C'estàcausedecelapeut—êtreqúilmefaitpeur.”④“啊,他太慈善了!”公爵小姐玛丽亚说道。

①法语:布里安小姐,你那个奴才般的皇帝又有一个崇拜者了。

②法语:公爵,您知道,我不是波拿巴份子啊。

③法语:天知道什么时候他才回来。

④法语:您爸爸是个很聪明的人,也许因为这种缘故我才害怕他。



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