‘I know only too well that we have no control over our likes and dislikes,’ thought Prince Andrey, ‘so it’s no use even thinking I might be able to hand over my note on army reform to the Tsar personally, but the thing will speak for itself.’ He sent word of his note to an old field-marshal, a friend of his father’s. The field-marshal gave him an appointment, received him with affection and promised to inform the Tsar. A few days later Prince Andrey received notice to call on the war minister, Count Arakcheyev.
At nine o’clock in the morning on the appointed day Prince Andrey entered Count Arakcheyev’s reception-room.
Prince Andrey did not know Arakcheyev personally, never having met him, but everything he had heard had left him with little respect for this man.
‘He is 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
‘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
