The secretary was told to write down the resolution of the Moscow nobility: that the nobles of Moscow, like those of Smolensk, would fur-
nish a levy of ten men in every thousand, with their complete equipment.
The gentlemen, who had been sitting, got up with an air of relief; there was a scraping of chairs and the great noblemen walked about to stretch their legs, taking their friends’ arms and chatting together.
‘The Tsar! the Tsar!’ was suddenly heard all through the rooms, and the whole crowd rushed towards the entrance.
The Tsar walked in along the wide, free space left for him, between walls of noblemen close packed on each side. Every face expressed reverent and awe-stricken curiosity. Pierre was at some distance, and could not quite catch all the Tsar said. He knew from what he did hear that the Tsar was speaking of the danger in which the empire was placed, and the hopes he rested on the Moscow nobility. The Tsar was answered by a voice informing him of the resolution just passed by the nobility.
‘Gentlemen!’ said the trembling voice of the Tsar. A stir passed through the crowd, and then a hush fell on it again, and Pierre distinctly heard the voice of the Tsar, warmly humane and deeply touched: ‘I have never doubted of the devotion of the Russian nobility. But this day it has surpassed my expectations. I thank you in the name of the father- land. Gentlemen, let us act—time is more precious than anything. . . .’
The Tsar ceased speaking; the crowd began pressing round him, and cries of enthusiasm were heard on alksides.
‘Yes, more precious than anything ... a royal saying,’ said the voice of Ilya Andreitch with a sob. He had heard nothing, but understood everything in his own way.
From the nobility’s room the Tsar went into the merchants’ room. He was there for about ten minutes. Pierre amongst the rest saw the Tsar coming back from the merchants’ room with tears of emotion in his eyes. They learned afterwards that the Tsar had hardly begun to speak to the mechants when the tears gushed from his eyes and he continued in a trembling voice. When Pierre saw the Tsar come out, he was accompanied by two merchants. One of them Pierre knew, a stout contractor; the other was the mayor, with a thin, yellow face and narrow beard. Both were weeping. The tears stood in the thin man’s eyes, but the stout contractor was sobbing like a child and continually repeating:
‘Take life and property too, your majesty!’
Pierre felt nothing at that moment but the desire to show that nothing was too much for him and that he was ready to sacrifice everything. The P constitutional tenor of his speech weighed on him like a sin; he sought an opportunity of glossing it over. On hearing that Count Mamonov was furnishing a regiment, Bezuhov at once told Count Rastoptchin that he would furnish one thousand men and their equipment.
Old Rostov could not tell his wife what had passed without tears, and he agreed at once to Petya’s wishes, and went himself to enter his name. i
Next day the Tsar went away. All the assembled noblemen went back to their homes and their clubs, took off their uniforms, and with some groans gave orders to their stewards to raise the levy, wondering themselves at what they had done.
PART X
I
Napoleon began the war with Russia because he could not help going to Dresden, being dazzled by the homage paid him there, putting on the Polish uniform, yielding to the stimulating influence of a June morning, and giving way to an outburst of fury in the presence of Kurakin and afterwards of Balashev.
Alexander refused all negotiations because he felt himself personalty insulted. Barclay de Tolly did his utmost to command the army in the best way possible, so as to do his duty and gain the reputation of a great general. Rostov charged the French because he could not resist the temptation to gallop across the level plain. And all the innumerable persons who took part in the war acted similarly, in accordance with their personal peculiarities, habits, circumstances, and aims. They were all impelled by fear or vanity, enjoyment, indignation, or national consideration, supposing that they knew what they were about and that they were acting independently, while they were all the involuntary tools of history and were working out a result concealed from themselves but comprehensible to us. Such is the invariable fate of all practical leaders, and the higher their place in the social hierarchy, the less free they are.
Now the leading men of 1812 have long left their places; their personal interests have vanished, leaving no trace, and nothing remains before us but the historical results of the time.
But once let us admit that the people of Europe under Napoleon’s leadership had to make their way into the heart of Russia and there to perish, and all the self-contradictory, meaningless, cruel actions of the men who took part in this war become intelligible to us.
