The prince’s house did not belong to what is known as fashionable society, but his little circle—though not much talked about in town—was one it was more flattering to be received in than any other. Boris had realized this the week before when the commander-in-chief in his presence invited Rostopchin to dinner on St. Nicholas’ Day, and Rostopchin had replied that he could not come:
“On that day I always go to pay my devotions to the relics of Prince Nicholas Bolkonski.”
“Oh, yes, yes!” replied the commander-in-chief. “How is he? . . .”
The small group that assembled before dinner in the lofty old-fashioned drawing room with its old furniture resembled the solemn gathering of a court of justice. All were silent or talked in low tones. Prince Nicholas came in serious and taciturn. Princess Mary seemed even quieter and more diffident than usual. The guests were reluctant to address her, feeling that she was in no mood for their conversation. Count Rostopchin alone kept the conversation going, now relating the latest town news, and now the latest political gossip.
Lopukhin and the old general occasionally took part in the conversation. Prince Bolkonski listened as a presiding judge receives a report, only now and then, silently or by a brief word, showing that he took heed of what was being reported to him. The tone of the conversation was such as indicated that no one approved of what was being done in the political world. Incidents were related evidently confirming the opinion that everything was going from bad to worse, but whether telling a story or giving an opinion the speaker always stopped, or was stopped, at the point beyond which his criticism might touch the sovereign himself.
At dinner the talk turned on the latest political news: Napoleon’s seizure of the Duke of Oldenburg’s territory,2 and the Russian Note, hostile to Napoleon, which had been sent to all the European courts.
“Bonaparte treats Europe as a pirate does a captured vessel,” said Count Rostopchin, repeating a phrase he had uttered several times before. “One only wonders at the long-suffering or blindness of the crowned heads. Now the Pope’s turn has come and Bonaparte doesn’t scruple to depose the head of the Catholic Church—yet all keep silent! Our sovereign alone has protested against the seizure of the Duke of Oldenburg’s territory, and even . . .” Count Rostopchin paused, feeling that he had reached the limit beyond which censure was impossible.
“Other territories have been offered in exchange for the Duchy of Oldenburg,” said Prince Bolkonski. “He shifts the Dukes about as I might move my serfs from Bald Hills to Bogucharovo or my Ryazan estates.”
“The Duke of Oldenburg bears his misfortunes with admirable strength of character and resignation,” remarked Boris, joining in respectfully.
He said this because on his journey from Petersburg he had had the honor of being presented to the Duke. Prince Bolkonski glanced at the young man as if about to say something in reply, but changed his mind, evidently considering him too young.
“I have read our protests about the Oldenburg affair and was surprised how badly the Note was worded,” remarked Count Rostopchin in the casual tone of a man dealing with a subject quite familiar to him.
Pierre looked at Rostopchin with naive astonishment, not understanding why he should be disturbed by the bad composition of the Note.
“Does it matter, Count, how the Note is worded,” he asked, “so long as its substance is forcible?”
“My dear fellow, with our five hundred thousand troops it should be easy to have a good style,” returned Count Rostopchin.
Pierre now understood the count’s dissatisfaction with the wording of the Note.
“One would have thought quill drivers enough had sprung up,” remarked the old prince. “There in Petersburg they are always writing—not notes only but even new laws. My Andrew there has written a whole volume of laws for Russia. Nowadays they are always writing!” and he laughed unnaturally.
There was a momentary pause in the conversation; the old general cleared his throat to draw attention.
“Did you hear of the last event at the review in Petersburg? The figure cut by the new French ambassador.”
“Eh? Yes, I heard something: he said something awkward in His Majesty’s presence.”
“His Majesty drew attention to the Grenadier division and to the march past,” continued the general, “and it seems the ambassador took no notice and allowed himself to reply that: ‘We in France pay no attention to such trifles!’ The Emperor did not condescend to reply. At the next review, they say, the Emperor did not once deign to address him.”
All were silent. On this fact relating to the Emperor personally, it was impossible to pass any judgment.
“Impudent fellows!” said the prince. “You know Metivier? I turned him out of my house this morning. He was here; they admitted him in spite of my request that they should let no one in,” he went on, glancing angrily at his daughter.
And he narrated his whole conversation with the French doctor and the reasons that convinced him that Metivier was a spy. Though these reasons were very insufficient and obscure, no one made any rejoinder.
After the roast, champagne was served. The guests rose to congratulate the old prince. Princess Mary, too, went round to him.
He gave her a cold, angry look and offered her his wrinkled, clean-shaven cheek to kiss. The whole expression of his face told her that he had not forgotten the morning’s talk, that his decision remained in force, and only the presence of visitors hindered his speaking of it to her now.
When they went into the drawing room where coffee was served, the old men sat together.
Prince Nicholas grew more animated and expressed his views on the impending war.
He said that our wars with Bonaparte would be disastrous so long as we sought alliances with the Germans and thrust ourselves into European affairs, into which we had been drawn by the Peace of Tilsit. “We ought not to fight either for or against Austria. Our political interests are all in the East, and in regard to Bonaparte the only thing is to have an armed frontier and a firm policy, and he will never dare to cross the Russian frontier, as was the case in 1807!”
“How can we fight the French, Prince?” said Count Rostopchin. “Can we arm ourselves against our teachers and divinities? Look at our youths, look at our ladies! The French are our Gods: Paris is our Kingdom of Heaven.”
He began speaking louder, evidently to be heard by everyone.
“French dresses, French ideas, French feelings! There now, you turned Metivier out by the scruff of his neck because he is a Frenchman and a scoundrel, but our ladies crawl after him on their knees. I went to a party last night, and there out of five ladies three were Roman Catholics and had the Pope’s indulgence for doing woolwork on Sundays. And they themselves sit there nearly naked, like the signboards at our Public Baths if I may say so. Ah, when one looks at our young people, Prince, one would like to take Peter the Great’s old cudgel out of the museum and belabor them in the Russian way till all the nonsense jumps out of them.”
All were silent. The old prince looked at Rostopchin with a smile and wagged his head approvingly.
“Well, good-bye, your excellency, keep well!” said Rostopchin, getting up with characteristic briskness and holding out his hand to the prince.
“Good-by, my dear fellow. . . . His words are music, I never tire of hearing him!” said the old prince, keeping hold of the hand and offering his cheek to be kissed.
Following Rostopchin’s example the others also rose.
- F. V. Rostopchin (1763-1828) had been a favorite of the Emperor Paul, and was Governor General and Commander in Chief of Moscow in 1812. He was an extreme reactionary, the author of many volumes, and a most eccentric and unreliable man.—A.M.
- Considering the Duchy of Oldenburg to be an obstacle in his path, Napoleon in 1810 dealt roughly and harshly with it. Commissaries were sent to announce the annexation of Oldenburg to France and to seize it and all its funds. The Duke (who was Alexander Fs uncle) was to be allowed a place of residence at Erfurt.
Alexander protested against this seizure. He had been given to understand at the Erfurt Congress the year before that Napoleon would like to marry his sister, Elizabeth. Nothing was definitely settled at the time, however, and a little later Elizabeth married one of the Oldenburg princes. The following year Napoleon made a suggestion that he should marry Alexander’s youngest sister, Anne. This proposal found favor in Petersburg, but Alexander delayed a decision as Napoleon was delaying the signature of an arrangement agreed on concerning Poland, and he feared that Napoleon might create an independent Poland or “Grand Duchy of Warsaw” as it was then called. Alexander’s delay irritated Napoleon and stung his vanity, and when the Emperor of Austria showed himself inclined to arrange an alliance with the conqueror who had just humiliated Austria afresh by the Peace of Schdnorunn, and to let him marry his daughter, the Princess Marie Louise, Napoleon seized the opportunity to unite himself with one of the Imperial families and prepared to break off his alliance with Russia. These things prompted his arbitrary treatment of the Duke of Oldenburg. Apart from that, the Treaty of Tilsit was falling to pieces, as the Continental System, aimed by Napoleon at England’s commerce, was harmful to Russia’s trade and was not observed by Russia as strictly as Napoleon demanded. From 1810 onwards both France and Russia
