战争与和平(上)-第271章

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When　next　morning　the　Tsar　said　to　the　officers　gathered　about　him：　“You　have　not　only　saved　Russia；　you　have　saved　Europe；”　every　one　knew　at　once　that　the　war　was　not　over。
Kutuzov　alone　refused　to　see　this；　and　frankly　gave　it　as　his　opinion　that　no　fresh　war　could　improve　the　position　of　Russia；　or　add　to　her　glory；　that　it　could　but　weaken　her　position；　and　cast　her　down　from　that　high　pinnacle　of　glory　at　which　in　his　view　Russia　was　standing　now。　He　tried　to　show　the　Tsar　the　impossibility　of　levying　fresh　troops；　and　talked　of　the　hardships　the　people　were　suffering；　the　possibility　of　failure；　and　so　on。
Such　being　his　attitude　on　the　subject；　the　commander…in…chief　could　naturally　be　looked　upon　only　as　a　hindrance　and　a　drag　on　the　progress　of　the　coming　campaign。
To　avoid　friction　with　the　old　man；　the　obvious　resource　was—as　with　him　at　Austerlitz　and　with　Barclay　at　the　beginning　of　the　war—to　withdraw　all　real　power　from　the　commander…in…chief；　without　disturbing　him　by　any　open　explanation　on　the　matter；　and　to　transfer　it　to　the　Tsar。
With　this　object；　the　staff　was　gradually　transformed；　and　all　the　real　power　of　Kutuzov’s　staff　was　removed　and　transferred　to　the　Tsar。　Toll；　Konovnitsyn；　and　Yermolov　received　new　appointments。　Every　one　talked　openly　of　the　commander…in…chief’s　great　weakness　and　failing　health。
He　was　bound　to　be　in　failing　health；　so　as　to　make　way　for　his　successor。　And　his　health　was；　in　fact；　failing。
Just　as　naturally；　as　simply；　and　as　gradually　as　Kutuzov　had　come　to　the　Court　of　Exchequer　at　Petersburg　out　of　Turkey　to　raise　the　militia；　and　then　to　take　the　command　of　the　army　just　at　the　time　when　he　was　needed；　did　a　new　commander　come　now　to　replace　him；　when　his　part　was　played。
The　war　of　1812；　in　addition　to　its　national　significance；　dear　to　every　Russian　heart；　was　to　take　a　new　European　character。
The　movement　of　men　from　west　to　east　was　to　be　followed　by　a　movement　from　east　to　west；　and　this　new　war　needed　a　new　representative；　with　other　aims　and　other　qualities；　and　moved　by　impulses　different　from　Kutuzov’s。
For　the　movement　from　east　to　west；　and　the　establishment　of　the　position　of　peoples；　Alexander　was　needed　just　as　Kutuzov　was　needed　for　the　deliverance　and　the　glory　of　Russia。
Kutuzov　did　not　see　what　was　meant　by　Europe；　the　balance　of　power；　and　Napoleon。　He　could　not　understand　all　that。
After　the　enemy　had　been　annihilated；　Russia　had　been　delivered　and　raised　to　the　highest　pinnacle　of　her　glory；　the　representative　of　the　Russian　people；　a　Russian　of　the　Russians；　had　no　more　left　to　do。　Nothing　was　left　for　the　representative　of　the　national　war　but　to　die。　And　he　did　die。


Chapter　12
As　is　generally　the　case；　Pierre　only　felt　the　full　strain　of　the　physical　hardships　and　privations　he　had　suffered　as　a　prisoner；　when　they　were　over。　After　he　had　been　rescued；　he　went　to　Orel；　and　two　days　after　getting　there；　as　he　was　preparing　to　start　for　Kiev；　he　fell　ill　and　spent　three　months　laid　up　at　Orel。　He　was　suffering；　so　the　doctors　said；　from　a　bilious　fever。　Although　they　treated　him　by　letting　blood　and　giving　him　drugs；　he　recovered。
Everything　that　had　happened　to　Pierre　from　the　time　of　his　rescue　up　to　his　illness　had　left　hardly　any　impression　on　his　mind。　He　had　only　a　memory　of　dark　grey　weather；　sometimes　rainy　and　sometimes　sunshiny；　of　internal　physical　aches；　of　pain　in　his　feet　and　his　side。　He　remembered　a　general　impression　of　the　misery　and　suffering　of　men；　remembered　the　worrying　curiosity　of　officers　and　generals；　who　questioned　him　about　his　imprisonment；　the　trouble　he　had　to　get　horses　and　a　conveyance；　and　more　than　all　he　remembered　his　own　dullness　of　thought　and　of　feeling　all　that　time。
On　the　day　of　his　rescue　he　saw　the　dead　body　of　Petya　Rostov。　The　same　day　he　learned　that　Prince　Andrey　had　lived　for　more　than　a　month　after　the　battle　of　Borodino；　and　had　only　a　short　time　before　died　at　Yaroslavl　in　the　Rostovs’　house。　The　same　day　Denisov；　who　had　told　Pierre　this　piece　of　news；　happened　to　allude　in　conversation　to　the　death　of　Ellen；　supposing　Pierre　to　have　been　long　aware　of　it。　All　this　had　at　the　time　seemed　to　Pierre　only　strange。　He　felt　that　he　could　not　take　in　all　the　bearings　of　these　facts。　He　was　at　the　time　simply　in　haste　to　get　away　from　these　places　where　men　were　slaughtering　each　other　to　some　quiet　refuge　where　he　might　rest　and　recover　his　faculties；　and　think　over　all　the　new　strange　things　he　had　learned。
But　as　soon　as　he　reached　Orel；　he　fell　ill。　On　coming　to　himself　after　his　illness；　Pierre　saw　waiting　on　him　two　of　his　servants；　Terenty　and　Vaska；　who　had　come　from　Moscow；　and　the　eldest　of　his　cousins；　who　was　staying　at　Pierre’s　estate　in　Elets；　and　hearing　of　his　rescue　and　his　illness　had　come　to　nurse　him。
During　his　convalescence　Pierre　could　only　gradually　recover　from　the　impressions　of　the　last　few　months；　which　had　become　habitual。　Only　by　degrees　could　he　become　accustomed　to　the　idea　that　there　was　no　one　to　drive　him　on　to…morrow；　that　no　one　would　take　his　warm　bed　from　him；　and　that　he　was　quite　sure　of　getting　his　dinner；　and　tea；　and　supper。　But　for　a　long　while　afterwards　he　was　always　in　his　dreams　surrounded　by　his　conditions　as　a　prisoner。
And　only　in　the　same　gradual　way　did　Pierre　grasp　the　meaning　of　the　news　he　had　heard　since　his　escape：　of　the　death　of　Prince　Andrey；　of　the　death　of　his　wife；　and　of　the　overthrow　of　the　French。
The　joyful　sense　of　freedom—that　full；　inalienable　freedom　inherent　in　man；　of　which　he　had　first　had　a　consciousness　at　the　first　halting…place　outside　Moscow—filled　Pierre’s　soul　during　his　convalescence。　He　was　surprised　that　this　inner　freedom；　independent　as　it　was　of　all　external　circumstances；　was　now　as　it　were　decked　out　in　a　luxury；　a　superfluity　of　external　freedom。　He　was　alone　in　a　strange　town　without　acquaintances。　No　one　made　any　demands　on　him；　no　one　sent　him　anywhere。　He　had　all　he　wanted；　the　thought　of　his　wife；　that　had　in　old　days　been　a　continual　torture　to　him；　was　no　more；　since　she　herself　was　no　more。
“Ah；　how　happy　I　am！　how　splendid　it　is！”　he　said　to　himself；　when　a　cleanly　covered　table　was　moved　up　to　him；　with　savoury…smelling　broth；　or　when　he　got　into　his　soft；　clean　bed　at　night；　or　when　the　thought　struck　him　that　his　wife　and　the　French　were　no　more。　“Ah；　how　good　it　is！　how　splendid！”　And　from　old　habit　he　asked　himself　the　question；　“Well；　and　what　then？　what　am　I　going　to　do？”　And　at　once　he　answered　himself：　“I　am　going　to　live。　Ah；　how　splendid　it　is！”
What　had　worried　him　in　old　days；　what　he　had　always　been　seeking　to　solve；　the　question　of　the　object　of　life；　did　not　exist　for　him　now。　That　seeking　for　an　object　in　life　was　over　for　him　now；　and　it　was　not　fortuitously　or　temporarily　that　it　was　over。　He　felt　that　there　was　no　such　object；　and　could　not　be。　And　it　was　just　the　absence　of　an　object　that　gave　him　that　complete　and　joyful　sense　of　freedom　that　at　this　time　made　his　happiness。
He　could　seek　no　object　in　life　now；　because　now　he　had　faith—not　faith　in　any　sort　of　principles；　or　words；　or　ideas；　but　faith　in　a　living；　ever…palpable　God。　In　old　days　he　had　sought　Him　in　the　aims　he　set　before　himself。　That　search　for　an　object　in　life　had　been　only　a　seeking　after　God；　and　all　at　once　in　his　captivity　he　had　come　to　know；　not　through　words　or　arguments；　but　by　his　own　immediate　feeling；　what　his　old　nurse　had　told　him　long　before；　that　God　is　here；　and　everywhere。　In　his　captivity　he　had　come　to　see　that　the　God　in　Karataev　was　grander；　more　infinite；　and　more　unfathomable　than　the　Architect　of　the　Universe　recognised　by　the　masons。　He　felt　like　a　man　who　finds　what　he　has　sought　at　his　feet；　when　he　has　been　straining　his　eyes　to　seek　it　in　the　distance。　All　his　life　he　had　been　looking　far　away　over　the　heads　of　all　around　him；　while　he　need　not　have　strained　his　eyes；　but　had　only　to　look　in　front　of　him。
In　old　days　he　had　been　unable　to　see　the　great；　the　unfathomable；　and　the　infinite　in　anything。　He　had　only　felt　that　it　must　be　somewhere；　and　had　been　seeking　it。　In　everything　near　and　comprehensible；　he　had　seen　only　what　was　limited；　petty；　everyday；　and　meaningless。　He　had　armed　himself　with　the　telescope　of　intellect；　and　gazed　far　away　into　the　distance；　where　that　petty；　everyday　world；　hidden　in　the　mists　of　distance；　had　seemed　to　him　great　and　infinite；　simply　because　it　was　not　clearly　seen。　Such　had　been　European　life；　politics；　freemasonry；　philosophy；　and　philanthropy　in　his　eyes。　But　even　then；　in　moments　which　he　had　looked　on　as　times　of　weakness；　his　thought　had　penetrated　even　to　these　remote　objects；　and　then　he　had　seen　in　them　the　same　pettiness；　the　same　ordinariness　and　meaninglessness。
Now　he　had　learnt　to　see　the　great；　the　eternal；　and　the　infinite　in　everything；　and　naturally　therefore；　in　order　to　see　it；　to　revel　in　its　contemplation；　he　flung　aside　the　telescope　through　which　he　had　hitherto　been　gazing　over　men’s　heads；　and　looked　joyfully　at　the　ever…changing；　ever　grand；　unfathomable；　and　infinite　life　around　him。　And　the　closer　he　looked　at　it；　the　calmer　and　happier　he　was。　The　terrible　question　that　had　shattered　all　his　intellectual　edifices　in　old　days；　the　question：　What　for？　had　no　existence　for　him　now。　To　that　question；　What　for？　he　had　now　always　ready　in　his　soul　the　simple　answer：　Because　there　is　a　God；　that　God　without　whom　not　one　hair　of　a　man’s　head　falls。


Chapter　13
PIERRE　was　hardly　changed　in　his　external　habits。　In　appearance　he　was　just　the　same　as　before。　He　was；　as　he　had　always　been；　absent…minded；　and　seemed　preoccupied　with　something　of　his　own；　something　apart　from　what　was　before　his　eyes。　The　difference　was　that　in　old　days；　when　he　was　unconscious　of　what　was　before　his　eyes；　or　what　was　being　said　to　him；　he　would　seem　with　painfully　knitted　brows　to　be　striving　unsuccessfully　to　discern　something　far　away　from　him。　He　was　just　as　unconscious　now　of　what　was　said　to　him；　or　of　what　was　before　him。　But　now　with　a　faint；　apparently　ironical　smile；　he　gazed　at　what　was　before　him；　or　listened　to　what　was　said；　though　he　was　obviously　seeing　and　hearing　something　quite　different。　In　old　days　he　had　seemed　a　good…hearted　man；　but　unhappy。　And　so　people　had　unconsciously　held　a　little　aloof　from　him。　Now　a　smile　of　joy　in　life　was　continually　playing　about　his　mouth；　and　his　eyes　were　bright　with　sympathy　for　others；　and　the　question：　Were　they　all　as　happy　as　he？　And　people　felt　at　ease　in　his　presence。
In　old　days　he　had　talked　a　great　deal；　and　had　got　hot　when　he　talked；　and　he　had　listened　very　little。　Now　he　was　rarely　carried　away　in　conversation；　and　knew　how　to　listen；　so　that　people　were　very　ready　to　tell　him　the　inmost　secrets　of　their　hearts。
The　princess；　who　had　never　liked　Pierre；　and　had　cherished　a　particularly　hostile　feeling　towards　him；　since　after　the　old　count’s　death　she　had　felt　herself　under　obligation　to　him；　had　come　to　Orel　with　the　intention　of　proving　to　him　that　in　spite　of　his　ingratitude　she　felt　it　her　duty　to　nurse　him；　but　after　a　short　time　she　felt；　to　her　own　surprise　and　annoyance；　that　she　was　growing　fond　of　him。　Pierre　did　nothing　to　try　a