the war minister, someone trusted by the Tsar, and his personal qualities are his own business. He's been given the job of studying my note, so he must be the only person who can take it forward,' thought Prince Andrey, waiting his turn among the many important and unimportant persons in Count Arakcheyev's reception-room.
During his years of service, mostly as an adjutant, Prince Andrey had seen the waiting-rooms of many important people, and he was familiar with their distinctive characteristics. Count Arakcheyev's reception-room had its own special flavour. The faces of the unimportant people queuing for an audience with Count Arakcheyev betrayed nothing but obsequious humiliation, whereas the higher-ranking faces wore an expression of all-round embarrassment hiding behind a mask of unconcern and flippancy towards themselves, their situation and the person they were waiting to see. Some of them paced up and down deep in thought, others whispered and giggled, and Prince Andrey caught the nickname 'Mr Savage' and the words 'he's the boss and he can dish it out' applied to Count Arakcheyev. One general (a person of some significance), obviously offended at having to wait so long, sat with his legs crossed, smiling to himself with great disdain.
But each time the door opened, every face betrayed a single feeling - terror.
Prince Andrey asked the duty officer to mention his name again, but he was met with an amused look and told to wait his turn. After several persons had been ushered in and out of the minister's room by an adjutant, an officer with a particularly abject and panic-stricken face was admitted through the dreaded portal. His audience went on and on. Suddenly through the door came the roar of a thunderous voice, and the officer emerged white-faced and lips trembling, and walked off through the waiting-room with his head in his hands. It was then that Prince Andrey was ushered to the door and the adjutant whispered to him, 'Go to your right, over to the window.'
Prince Andrey walked into a rather ordinary, tidy study, and saw a man of about forty standing by a table, long in the body, with a long thin head and closely cropped hair. He was deeply wrinkled, his brows arched with a scowl over dull, greenish-hazel eyes, and a beaky red nose. Arakcheyev turned his head towards Prince Andrey without looking at him.
'What's your petition?' asked Arakcheyev.
'I'm . . . not petitioning, sir.' Prince Andrey spoke the words calmly. Arakcheyev's eyes turned to look at him.
'Sit down,' said Arakcheyev. 'Prince Bolkonsky?'
'I'm not petitioning, but his Majesty the Tsar has been kind enough to send your Excellency a memorandum submitted by me . . .'
'If you would kindly look here, my dear sir . . . I have read your note,' Arakcheyev interrupted, looking away again, any politeness not extending beyond his first words, his tone rising with impatience and contempt. 'You are proposing new army regulations? There are plenty of regulations already; the old ones get ignored. Nowadays everybody's drawing up new regulations. Writing's easier than doing something.'
'I come at his Majesty's will to learn from your Excellency how you propose to deal with my memorandum,' said Prince Andrey courteously.
'I have come to a decision about your memorandum and I have forwarded it to the committee. I do not approve it,' said Arakcheyev, getting to his feet and picking up a document from the desk. 'Here you are.' He handed it to Prince Andrey. Scrawled across the note was the following comment, badly spelt and with no punctuation or capital letters: 'unconvincing seeing its coppied from french army regulations and needlessly departs from our articles of war'.
'Which committee has the note been referred to?' asked Prince Andrey.
'The Army Regulations Committee, and I have recommended your Honour for membership. Unpaid.'
Prince Andrey smiled.
'I don't want any pay.'
'Unpaid membership,' repeated Arakcheyev. 'I bid you good day.'
And he bawled out, 'Next!' as he bowed Prince Andrey out.
CHAPTER 5
While awaiting official confirmation of his committee membership, Prince Andrey looked up some old acquaintances, especially people he knew to be in power and therefore of possible use. Here in Petersburg he kept feeling as he had done before on the eve of a battle, when he was tormented by a restless curiosity and irresistibly attracted to higher spheres where the future was taking shape, a future that would determine the destiny of millions. Taking stock of everything - the angry irritability of the old guard, the caution of those who were in the know and the curiosity of those who were not, the fact that everyone was always in a hurry and anxious, the burgeoning of committees and commissions - not a day passed without him learning of a new one - he began to sense that now, in the year 1809, here in Petersburg, a momentous non-military campaign was beginning to build up, the commander-in-chief being a mysterious character he did not know, but someone he took to be a man of genius - Speransky.
And the whole reform movement, for all its vagueness, together with Speransky himself, the power behind it, captured his interest so keenly that his ideas on army regulations very soon began to take second place in his thinking.
Prince Andrey happened to be in a very favourable position for gaining a successful entree into the broadest and highest circles of Petersburg society of the day. The reformist group welcomed him warmly and made every effort to attract him, firstly because he was considered clever and very well read, and secondly because he had already gained a reputation as a liberal by the freeing of his serfs. The miserable old guard welcomed him simply as his father's son, and expected him to sympathize with their condemnation of the reforms. The world of women that constituted society gave him a generous reception because he was a wealthy man of high rank and therefore a good match, as well as being a virtual newcomer in their midst surrounded by a romantic aura deriving from his brush with death and the tragic loss of his young wife. It was also the general opinion of all who knew him from days gone by that over the last five years he had changed a good deal for the better, softening his character and coming to full maturity. He was said to have lost his old affectation, pride and caustic cynicism, and to have gained the serenity that comes with years. He was talked about, a focus of interest, someone that people wanted to see.
The day after his interview with Count Arakcheyev, Prince Andrey happened to be at an evening reception at Count Kochubey's. He told him about his meeting with 'Mr Savage'. (This was how Kochubey referred to Arakcheyev, with the kind of sardonic amusement that Prince Andrey had observed in the war minister's waiting-room.)
'My dear fellow, even in this matter you can't do without Mikhail Mikhaylovich. He gets things done. I'll speak to him. He said he was coming this evening . . .'
'But what does Speransky have to do with army regulations?' asked Prince Andrey.
Kochubey shook his head with a smile, as if marvelling at Bolkonsky's naivety.
'He and I were talking about you the other day,' Kochubey continued, 'about your free tillers of the soil . . .'
'Oh, so you're the one, Prince, who freed the serfs?' said an old gentleman, a leftover from Catherine's day, turning towards Bolkonsky with great disdain.
'It was just a small estate and it wasn't profitable,' answered Bolkonsky, anxious not to annoy the old gentleman unnecessarily and therefore trying to minimize what he had done.
'You're afraid of being late,' said the old gentleman, looking at Kochubey.
'There's one thing I don't understand,' the old gentleman persisted. 'Who's going to farm the land if they are set free? It's easy to pass laws, but management is hard work. Same thing now - I ask you, Count, who will the department heads be when everybody has to take examinations?'
'Those who pass the examinations, I suppose,' answered Kochubey, crossing his legs and looking around the room.
'Look, what about Pryanichnikov, working for me, splendid man, salt of the earth, but he's sixty. Is he going to start taking examinations?'
'Yes, that's a difficult question, considering that education is not very widespread, but . . .'
Count Kochubey did not finish what he was saying. He got to his feet, took Prince Andrey by the arm and went over to meet a tall, fair-haired but balding man of about forty who had just come in. He had a large, open forehead and an elongated face of quite exceptional whiteness. He wore a dark-blue swallowtail coat with a cross around his neck and a star on his left breast. It was Speransky. Prince Andrey knew who it was immediately, and he felt the kind of shock that comes upon people at critical moments in life. Whether it was respect, envy or anticipation he couldn't tell. Speransky's whole figure had a special character by which he could be immediately recognized. Nowhere in the society frequented by Prince Andrey had he seen such composure and self-assurance as in this man's clumsy and ungainly movements. Nowhere had he seen a glance that was so decisive and yet so gentle as in these half-closed, rather watery eyes. Never had he seen this kind of firmness in such a meaningless smile. Never had he heard a voice so delicate, smooth and soft. But what struck him most of all was the tender whiteness of the face, and especially the rather broad hands which were unusually puffy, soft and white. This kind of facial whiteness and softness Prince Andrey had seen only in soldiers who had spent a long time in hospital.
This was Speransky, secretary of state, confidential adviser to the Tsar, who had been at his side in Erfurt, and seen and spoken to Napoleon on more than one occasion. Speransky's eyes did not flit from one face to another as eyes do instinctively on first coming into a large company, and he was in no hurry to speak. When he did, he spoke softly, certain that he would be listened to, and looked only at the person to whom he was speaking.
Prince Andrey followed Speransky's every word and gesture with the closest attention. As people often do, particularly those who are highly critical of their fellow men, Prince Andrey, on meeting someone new - especially someone like Speransky whom he knew by reputation - always entertained the hope of discovering in him a perfect blend of human qualities.
Speransky apologized to Kochubey for not being able to come earlier, but he had been detained at the palace. He did not say that the Tsar had kept him. And this affectation of modesty was not lost on Prince Andrey. When Kochubey introduced Prince Andrey by name, Speransky slowly transferred his eyes to Bolkonsky with the same smile on his face, and he gazed at him for a moment in silence.
'I am so pleased to meet you. I've heard about you. Everyone has,' he said.
Kochubey said a few words about Arakcheyev's reception of Bolkonsky. Speransky's smile broadened.
'The chairman of the Army Regulations Committee is a good friend of mine - Mr Magnitsky,' he said, carefully articulating every word and every syllable, 'and if you wish I can bring you together.' (He paused at the full stop.) 'I hope you may find him sympathetic and anxious to comply with anything reasonable.'
A small crowd had gathered around Speransky and the old gentleman who had been speaking about his clerk, Pryanichnikov, asked Speransky a question.
Without joining in the conversation Prince Andrey followed Speransky's every movement. Here was a man, thought Bolkonsky, who had only recently been a theology student, a nonentity, yet he now held in his hands, those puffy white hands, the very destiny of Russia. Prince Andrey was struck by the extraordinary disdain and composure with which Speransky responded to the old gentleman. He seemed to condescend from heights beyond measure. When the old man started talking too loud, Speransky smiled and said he couldn't judge the rights and wrongs of what the Tsar saw fit to do.
After chatting for a while in the general circle, Speransky got to his feet, went over to Prince Andrey and led him across the room. He obviously thought it best to take an interest in Bolkonsky.
'I've had no time to talk to you, Prince, because of the fascinating conversation that excellent old gentleman dragged me into,' he said, with a smile of gentle disdain, a smile that drew Prince Andrey and him together in recognizing the uselessness of the people he had just been talking to. This was flattering to Prince Andrey. 'I have known of you for some time, firstly from what you did with your serfs, an early example of something that needs to be followed, and, secondly, from your being one of those gentlemen of the chamber who did not consider themselves wronged by the new decree on court preferment that has been the cause of so much gossip and criticism.'
'You're quite right,' said Prince Andrey. 'My father didn't want me to take advantage of privilege. I began at the bottom.'
'Your father, a man of the old regime, clearly stands higher than those contemporaries of ours who condemn this measure, even though it is simply the embodiment of natural justice.'
'I imagine there is some basis, though, even for this kind of condemnation, ' said Prince Andrey, trying to resist Speransky's influence, which he was beginning to notice. He was reluctant to agree with him in all respects; he wanted to put up a fight. Prince Andrey, whose speech was usually so easy and fluent, had some difficulty in expressing himself as he talked to Speransky. He was preoccupied with observing the personality of such a famous man.
'A basis of personal ambition perhaps.' Speransky spoke softly as he put in his word.
'And to some extent for the state,' said Prince Andrey.
'How do you mean?' said Speransky softly, looking down.
'I am an admirer of Montesquieu,'2 said Prince Andrey. 'And his idea of honour as the principle of monarchy seems to me unchallengeable. I can see certain rights and privileges of the nobility as the means of maintaining that sentiment.'
The smile vanished from Speransky's white face, much to the advantage of his features. Prince Andrey's idea had probably struck him as particularly interesting.
'If you look at the question from that angle,' he began, speaking French with no little difficulty and enunciating even more elaborately than he had done in Russian, but still maintaining perfect composure. He said that honour (l'honneur) cannot be supported by privileges that get in the way of good service, that honour (l'honneur) is either a negative concept - the avoidance of reprehensible actions - or a known source of competition for commendation and rewards which are its fullest expression.
His arguments were concise, straightforward and clear. 'The institution that best underpins that honour, the source of proper competition, is an institution akin to the great Emperor Napoleon's Legion of Honour, which does not impede but actually promotes good government service, rather than class or court privilege.'
'I don't dispute that, but there's no denying that court privilege did the same thing,' said Prince Andrey. 'Every courtier considers himself bound to justify his position by worthy conduct.'
'But you decided not to take advantage of it, Prince,' said Speransky, his smile indicating that the argument was becoming embarrassing for his companion and he wanted to end it in the nicest way possible. 'If you will do me the honour of calling in next Wednesday, I shall have seen Magnitsky by then and I should have something to tell you that may be of interest, though it will also be a pleasure to continue our conversation.' At this he closed his eyes, bowed and left the drawing-room in the French manner, without saying goodbye, trying to slip away unnoticed.
CHAPTER 6
In the first weeks of his stay in Petersburg Prince Andrey sensed that the way of thinking he had worked out in his solitary life had been completely eclipsed by the petty concerns that now beset him in Petersburg.
When he got home in the evening he would jot down in his note-book four or five essential calls to be made or appointments at fixed times. The mechanical management of his life, arranging his day so as to get everywhere on time, absorbed most of his vital energy. He did nothing and thought nothing - he had no time to think. All he did was talk, and this he did successfully when dealing with ideas he had had time to think about before in the country.
He was sometimes annoyed to find himself saying the same thing on the same day to different audiences. But he kept himself so busy for days on end that he had no time to reflect that he wasn't actually doing anything. Speransky followed up their first meeting at Kochubey's with another long, confiding talk with Prince Andrey on Wednesday at his own home, where he received Bolkonsky alone and made a great impression on him.
Prince Andrey regarded the great bulk of humanity as contemptible and worthless creatures, and he was eager to find someone who embodied the ideal of perfection that he was striving for himself, so he was only too ready to believe that in Speransky he had found this ideal of a perfectly rational and virtuous man. Had Speransky come from the same background as Prince Andrey, with the same upbringing and moral code, Bolkonsky would soon have spotted his weak, human, unheroic sides, but he was so taken with this new, logical way of thinking that his understanding of the man remained incomplete. Besides this, Speransky, either because he was impressed by Prince Andrey's abilities or because he thought it prudent to recruit him as a supporter, toyed with him, flaunting his own dispassionate application of reason, and flattering him in honeyed tones bordering on the kind of arrogance that exists in a tacit assumption between two men that they are the only people capable of appreciating how stupid everybody else is and how wise and profound their own thoughts are.
In the course of their long conversation on Wednesday evening Speransky kept saying things like, 'With us anything that goes beyond the common run of established tradition is considered . . .', or (with a smile), 'But what we want is well-fed wolves with the sheep safe,' or 'They can't get it into their heads . . .' - and always with a special inflection that said, 'The pair of us, you and I, we understand what they are and who we are.'
This first long conversation with Speransky served only to reinforce the feeling about him that Prince Andrey had had when they first met. He saw in him a thinking man of ruthless reason and enormous intellect, who had used nothing but his own energy and doggedness to gain power, which he was now using solely for the good of Russia. In Prince Andrey's eyes Speransky was just what he wanted to be - a man with a rational explanation for every aspect of human life, accepting reason as the only yardstick of validity and fully capable of applying this standard of reason to everything that came along. Everything ca