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 swallow-tail 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.’
