y wanted.
The head steward expressed great sympathy for Pierre's intentions, but observed that apart from these innovations things were in a bad way and needed a thorough sorting out.
Ever since Pierre had inherited Count Bezukhov's enormous wealth and with it an annual income of five hundred thousand, he had felt much worse off than he had been with an allowance of ten thousand from his father. He had formed a vague idea of his budget, which could be outlined as follows. About 80,000 roubles were being paid into the Land Bank. Another 30,000 went on the upkeep of his estate just outside Moscow together with his Moscow house and allowances for the three princesses. About 15,000 went into pensions, and a similar amount to charity. His countess was getting 150,000 for her maintenance. Interest on loans accounted for something like 70,000. The building of a new church had run to about 10,000 over the last couple of years. He hardly knew where the rest went - another 100,000 or so - but almost every year he was forced to take out new loans. And beyond that, every year the head steward wrote to him saying that fires had broken out, crops had failed and factories and workshops needing rebuilding. And so the first task Pierre had to face was the one he was least suited to and least fond of - to become a businessman.
Every day Pierre 'got down to business' with the head steward. But he couldn't escape the feeling that what he was doing didn't improve things one iota. He felt that what he was doing didn't affect the business side of things at all, business was beyond his grip and he wasn't making anything happen. On the one hand, the head steward put the bleakest construction on everything, insisting that Pierre had to go on paying his debts and starting up new projects based on serf labour, though this was something Pierre couldn't accept. On the other hand, Pierre kept demanding that they proceed with the business of liberating the serfs, to which the head steward objected by further insistence on the need to pay off debts to the Land Bank, which meant that things could not be hurried. He didn't say it was out of the question. He proposed to solve the problem by selling things off: the forests in the Kostroma province, some of the land lower down the river and the Crimean estate. But the way he put it, all these operations involved such complicated procedures concerned with the removal of distraints, proper authorization and all the rest that Pierre soon lost the thread and was reduced to saying lamely, 'Yes, do that then.'
Lacking any practical ability or tenacity that might have made it possible for him to go into things properly, Pierre never took to management, and all he could do was keep up a pretence of businesslike interest to impress the head steward. The steward maintained his own fiction, that what he was doing was of great benefit to the count, but a great nuisance to him.
Pierre knew some people in Kiev, where unacquainted persons moved quickly to make themselves acquainted by extending a warm welcome to the wealthy new arrival, the biggest landowner in the province. Temptations in the area of Pierre's major weakness, the one he had confessed to during his initiation into the lodge, proved quite irresistible. Once again whole days, weeks and months of his life went by with him busily doing the rounds of parties, dinners, lunches and balls. It was as bad as Petersburg for leaving him no time to think. Instead of the new life Pierre had hoped to lead, he was still living the old one, but in new surroundings.
Of the three precepts of freemasonry Pierre had to admit falling down on the one that said every mason must become a model of morality; and of the seven virtues he was completely deficient in two - good living and the love of death. He found some consolation in the belief that he was working on one of the other precepts, the improvement of the human race, and he did have other virtues such as loving his neighbour and generosity.
In the spring of 1807 Pierre made up his mind to go back to Petersburg. Along the way it was his intention to call in at each one of his estates to check for himself how far they had got with what he had told them to do and what was the current situation of the people whom God had entrusted to his care and whom he had been trying so hard to benefit.
The head steward, who thought that all the young count's silly schemes were bordering on madness and useless to them all - him, his master and all the peasants - had nevertheless made some concessions. While still insisting that liberation was impracticable, he did make arrangements on all the estates for the building of decent-sized schools, hospitals and alms-houses. During the master's various visits he arranged for him to be met not with pomp and ceremony, which he knew Pierre wouldn't like, but by little groups of religious and charitable people, with plenty of icons and bread-and-salt hospitality, the sort of thing that would, according to his reading of the count, impress him and pull the wool over his eyes.
The southern spring, the swift and easy running of his Viennese carriage and the solitude of the open road all put Pierre in a good mood. The estates, which he had never visited before, became one by one more and more picturesque; all the peasants seemed to be thriving and they were touchingly grateful for his kindness to them. Everywhere Pierre was given a welcome that embarrassed him, yet deep down he found it all heart-warming. At one place the peasants brought him bread and salt and a icon of St Peter and St Paul, and then asked permission to build a new chapel in their church at their own expense in honour of these patron saints of his and as a gesture of love and gratitude for his kindness to them. At another stop he was welcomed by women carrying tiny babies, grateful for being released from hard physical work. In a third place he was met by a priest with a cross, surrounded by little children who were being taught reading, writing and religion because of the count's generosity. On all his estates Pierre saw with his own eyes stone buildings under construction or already built, all to the same plan - hospitals, schools and alms-houses, soon to be opened. Everywhere Pierre saw the steward's records showing a decrease in the amount of work done by the peasants for the benefit of the master, compared with previous years, and he heard the most moving expressions of gratitude from deputations of peasants dressed in their traditional blue kaftans.
What Pierre did not know was that the place where they brought him bread and salt and were building a new chapel to St Peter and St Paul was a trading village which held a fair every St Peter's day, and the chapel had been started long before by wealthy peasants of that village, where nine-tenths of the peasants lived in abject poverty. He did not know that as a result of his orders to stop sending nursing mothers out to work on the master's land, those same mothers had to work even harder on their own patches of land. He did not know that the priest who met him with the cross oppressed the peasants with his methods of extortion, and that the pupils gathered round him had been yielded up with much weeping and could be redeemed by their parents only for large sums of money. He did not know that the stone buildings were being put up, all to the same plan, by his own workers, which meant an actual increase in the forced labour of his peasants, but that didn't show up on paper. He did not know that where the steward's records showed a one-third reduction in rent, in accordance with his instructions, their compulsory labour had gone up by half. And so it was that Pierre returned from the tour of his estates delighted and fully restored to the mood of philanthropy in which he had left Petersburg, and he wrote most enthusiastically to his 'brother and mentor', as he called the Grand Master.
'How easy it is, what little effort it takes to do so much good,' thought Pierre, 'and how little we trouble ourselves to do it!'
He was pleased that so much gratitude had been shown him, but he felt embarrassed by this. Such gratitude only served to remind him how much more he could do for those kind and simple people.
The head steward, a very stupid man but with plenty of cunning, had the measure of his clever but simple-minded master, and he toyed with him. Noting the impact on the count of these carefully staged receptions, he redoubled and strengthened his arguments - it was impossible, and, what was more important, it was quite unnecessary to liberate the peasants, who were perfectly happy as things stood.
Deep down, Pierre had to agree with the steward that it would be difficult to imagine the people being any happier, and there was no telling what their future might be in freedom. However, not without reluctance, he continued to stick to what he thought was right. The steward promised to do everything in his power to carry out the count's wishes, knowing full well that the count would never be in a position to check whether everything possible had been done to speed up the sale of the forests and pay off the bank-loans, and he would probably never even ask about the buildings, let alone find out that when they were finished they just stood empty, and the peasants went on giving in labour and money exactly what other peasants gave to other masters - all that could be got out of them.
CHAPTER 11
Back from his southern tour in buoyant mood, Pierre did what he had been intending to do for some time; he went to visit his friend Bolkonsky, not having seen him for two years. At the last post-station he heard that Andrey was not at Bald Hills but at his new separate estate, so he went straight there.
Bogucharovo lay in flat, dull countryside covered with fields and stretches of birch and fir-trees, some felled and others growing wild. The manor house was at the end of a village that lay sprawled out down a long straight road. It stood in young woodland dominated by several large pine-trees, just above a newly dug pond filled to overflowing, with grass yet to grow on its banks.
The homestead consisted of a threshing floor, outbuildings, stables, a bath-house, a lodge and a large stone house with a semi-circular facade, still under construction. Around the house a new garden had recently been laid out. The fences and gates were solid and new, and in an open shed there were two fire-pumps and a water-butt painted green. The paths were straight, the bridges were strong and they had handrails. There was an air of efficiency and good house-keeping about the place. Some house serfs along the way, when asked where the prince was living, pointed to a small new lodge at the very edge of the pond. Prince Andrey's old servant, Anton, who had been with him since childhood, helped Pierre down from the carriage, said that the prince was at home and showed him into a clean little ante-room.
Pierre was struck by the modesty of this clean little house, after the splendid surroundings in which he had last seen his friend in Petersburg.
He walked quickly through into a little parlour, finished but not yet plastered and smelling of pine wood, and he would have gone on, but Anton tiptoed ahead and knocked at the door.
'What is it?' came a rough, unpleasant voice.
'A visitor,' answered Anton.
'Ask him to wait.' A chair was heard being scraped back.
Pierre hurried up to the door and suddenly found himself face to face with Prince Andrey, who was on his way out with a scowl on his face, looking older. Pierre hugged him, lifted his spectacles, kissed him on the cheeks and gave him a close scrutiny.
'Well, look who's here! I'm so pleased to see you,' said Prince Andrey.
Pierre said nothing; he was looking at his friend in some surprise and couldn't take his eyes off him. He was struck by how much Prince Andrey had changed. His words were welcoming enough, his face and his lips seemed to smile, but the lacklustre eyes had a dead look about them and despite his best efforts Prince Andrey seemed unable to make them shine with joy and happiness. It wasn't just that his friend looked thinner and paler, as well as being more mature; Pierre was shocked by Andrey's subdued look and his furrowed brow, both of which suggested obsessive worrying about something, and he was put off for a moment until he got used to it.
It always happens that when friends come together after a long separation the conversation jumps from one topic to another. Quick questions were met with short answers as they touched on things which they knew ought to be discussed at length. At last the conversation began to settle down, gradually returning to points that had been skimpily treated before, inquiries about how things had been going, any future plans, Pierre's travels and what he had been up to, the war and much more besides. The crestfallen look of worry which Pierre had noticed in Prince Andrey's eyes was even more noticeable in his smile as he listened, especially when Pierre spoke with joy and enthusiasm about the past and the future. The impression was that Prince Andrey wanted to involve himself in what Pierre was saying but couldn't manage to do so. Pierre began to feel it was somehow wrong to be talking to Prince Andrey so eagerly about his dreams and all his hopes of happiness and goodness. It would be too embarrassing for him to go into the new ideas he had got from the masons, and especially the way these had been refreshed and strengthened by his recent tour. He held back, afraid to seem naive, but at the same time he felt an urgent desire to show his friend without further ado that he was a changed man, better than the old Pierre that he had known in Petersburg.
'I can't begin to tell you what I've gone through since we met. I wouldn't recognize my old self.'
'Yes, we've both changed a lot since those days,' said Prince Andrey.
'Anyway, what about you?' asked Pierre. 'What are your plans?'
'Plans?' echoed Prince Andrey sarcastically. 'My plans?' he said again, as if surprised by the word and its meaning. 'Well . . . you can see I've got some building going on. I should be able to move in next year . . .'
Pierre said nothing; he was staring closely at Prince Andrey's face, which seemed to have aged so much.
'No, what I meant was . . .' Pierre began but Prince Andrey cut him short.
'But let's not talk about me . . . You do the talking. Tell me about your grand tour. What have you been up to on your estates?'
Pierre launched into a description of what he had been doing on his estates, trying as well as he could to play down his own involvement in the improvements that had been made. More than once Prince Andrey was able to anticipate what Pierre was going to say, as if all his efforts were old hat, and although he listened with some interest he did seem rather embarrassed at what he was hearing.
All of which made Pierre feel awkward and quite depressed sitting there with his friend. He stopped talking.
'I tell you what, my dear fellow,' said Prince Andrey, clearly depressed and ill at ease with his visitor, 'I'm just camped out here. I just came to have a look round. I'm going back to my sister today. I'll introduce you. Oh, but you've met before, haven't you?' he added, obviously trying to be pleasant to a guest he now had nothing in common with. 'We'll go back after dinner. And now would you care to look round my place?'
They went out and went for a good walk until dinner-time, talking politics and mentioning mutual acquaintances, like two people who were rather distant from each other. The only things that sparked any animation or interest in Prince Andrey were the new homestead and the building work, but even on this subject, when they were up on the scaffolding and Prince Andrey was describing the plan of the house, he suddenly stopped in mid-conversation. 'Oh, but this isn't very interesting,' he said. 'Let's have our dinner and get going.'
At dinner the conversation turned to Pierre's marriage.
'I was really surprised when I heard,' said Prince Andrey.
Pierre blushed as he always did when this subject came up, and he said hastily, 'I'll tell you the whole story one day. But you do know it's all finished, don't you?'
'For ever?' said Prince Andrey. 'Nothing's for ever.'
'But do you know what happened in the end? Have you heard about the duel?'
'Yes, you had to go through all that, didn't you!'
'The one thing I thank God for is that I didn't kill that man,' said Pierre.
'Why not?' said Prince Andrey. 'Killing a vicious dog is a good thing, really.'
'No, killing is wrong. It's bad.'
'What's wrong with it?' retorted Prince Andrey. 'What's right and what's wrong is something we can't decide. People keep making mistakes and they always will, especially when it comes to right and wrong.'
'Anything that harms someone else is wrong,' said Pierre, noticing with pleasure that for the first time since his arrival Prince Andrey was getting worked up about something and starting to speak out. He even seemed ready to make a clean breast of everything that had turned him into what he now was.
'And how do you know what's bad for somebody else?' he asked.
'Bad! Bad!' said Pierre. 'We all know what's bad for us.'
'Yes, you're right, but just because I know something is bad for me, it doesn't mean I can do the same harm to somebody else,' said Prince Andrey, getting more and more excited, and now evidently eager to let Pierre know all about his new attitude. (He was speaking in French.) 'I only know two really harmful things in life - remorse and illness. There is never any good unless these two things are absent. Living for myself and avoiding these two evils - that's my philosophy now.'
'What about loving your neighbour, and sacrificing yourself?' began Pierre. 'No, I can't agree with you! Living your life with the sole object of avoiding evil just so you won't regret anything afterwards - it's not enough. I used to live like that, I used to live for myself, and I ruined my life. And it's only now, when I'm living - or trying to live' (modesty called for this adjustment) 'for other people, it's only now that I've come to know any happiness in life. No, I just don't agree. And I don't think you believe what you're saying.'
Prince Andrey looked at Pierre with a sardonic smile and said nothing.
'Well, you'll soon see my sister, Marie. You two will get on together,' he said at last. 'You may be right as far as you're concerned,' he added, after a brief pause, 'but everyone's different. You used to live for yourself, and you tell me it almost ruined your life, and you've only found any happiness since you started living for other people. Well, my experience has been the other way round. I used to live for glory. (And what is glory? It's the same love for other people, wanting to do something for them, wanting praise from them.) In that kind of way I used to live for other people, and I did ruin my life, not almost - completely! And I've only found any peace of mind since I started living for myself.'
'But how can you think of living for yourself?' said Pierre, all worked up. 'What about your son, your sister, your fat