War And Peace: Book 3 - CHAPTER IX

作者: Leo Tolstoy

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Author: Leo Tolstoy

THE DAY AFTER THE REVIEW Boris Drubetskoy put on his best uniform, and

accompanied by his comrade Berg's good wishes for his success, rode to Olmütz to

see Bolkonsky, in the hope of profiting by his friendliness to obtain a better

position, especially the position of an adjutant in attendance on some personage

of importance, a post which seemed to him particularly alluring.

“It's all very well for Rostov, whose father sends him ten thousand at a

time, to talk about not caring to cringe to any one, and not being a lackey to

any man. But I, with nothing of my own but my brains, have my career to make,

and mustn't let opportunities slip, but must make the most of them.”

He did not find Prince Andrey at Olmütz that day. But the sight of

Olmütz—where were the headquarters and the diplomatic corps, and where both

Emperors with their suites, their households, and their court, were staying—only

strengthened his desire to belong to this upper world.

He knew no one; and in spite of his smart guardsman's uniform, all these

exalted persons, racing to and fro about the streets in their elegant carriages,

plumes, ribbons, and orders, courtiers and military alike, all seemed to be so

immeasurably above him, a little officer in the Guards, as to be not simply

unwilling, but positively unable to recognise his existence. At the quarters of

the commander-in-chief, Kutuzov, where he asked for Bolkonsky, all the adjutants

and even the orderlies looked at him as though they wished to impress on him

that a great many officers of his sort came hanging about here, and that they

were all heartily sick of seeing them. In spite of this, or rather in

consequence of it, he went again the following day, the 15th, after dinner, to

Olmütz, and going into the house occupied by Kutuzov, asked for Bolkonsky.

Prince Andrey was at home, and Boris was ushered into a large room, probably at

some time used for dancing. Now there were five bedsteads in it and furniture of

various kinds: a table, chairs, a clavichord. One adjutant was sitting in a

Persian dressing-gown writing at a table near the door. Another, the stout,

red-faced Nesvitsky, was lying on a bed, his arms under his head, laughing with

an officer sitting by the bedside. A third was playing a Vienna waltz on the

clavichord, while a fourth lay on the clavichord, humming to the tune. Bolkonsky

was not in the room. Not one of these gentlemen changed his position on

observing Boris. The one who was writing, on being applied to by Boris, turned

round with an air of annoyance, and told him that Bolkonsky was the adjutant on

duty, and that he should go to the door to the left, into the reception-room, if

he wanted to see him. Boris thanked him, and went to the reception-room. There

he found some ten officers and generals.

At the moment when Boris entered, Prince Andrey dropping his eye-lids

disdainfully (with that peculiar air of courteous weariness which so distinctly

says, “If it were not my duty, I would not stay talking to you for a minute”),

was listening to an old Russian general with many decorations, who, rigidly

erect, almost on tiptoe, was laying some matter before Prince Andrey with the

obsequious expression of a common soldier on his purple face.

“Very good, be so kind as to wait a moment,” he said to the general in

Russian, with that French accent with which he always spoke when he meant to

speak disdainfully, and noticing Boris, Prince Andrey took no further notice of

the general (who ran after him with entreaties, begging him to hear something

more), but nodded to Boris with a bright smile, as he turned towards him. At

that moment Boris saw distinctly what he had had an inkling of before, that is,

that quite apart from that subordination and discipline, which is written down

in the drill-book, and recognised in the regiment and known to him, there was in

the army another and more actual subordination, that which made this rigid,

purple-faced general wait respectfully while Prince Andrey—of captain's

rank—found it more in accordance with his pleasure to talk to Lieutenant

Drubetskoy. Boris felt more than ever determined to follow in future the

guidance not of the written code laid down in the regulations, but of this

unwritten code. He felt now that simply because he had been recommended to

Prince Andrey, he had become at one step superior to the general, who in other

circumstances, at the front, could annihilate a mere lieutenant in the guards

like him. Prince Andrey went up to him and shook hands.

“Very sorry you didn't find me in yesterday. I was busy the whole day with

the Germans. We went with Weierother to survey the disposition. When Germans

start being accurate, there's no end to it!”

Boris smiled, as though he understood, as a matter of common knowledge, what

Prince Andrey was referring to. But it was the first time he had heard the name

of Weierother, or even the word “disposition” used in that sense.

“Well, my dear boy, you still want an adjutant's post? I have been thinking

about you since I saw you.”

“Yes,” said Boris, involuntarily flushing for some reason, “I was thinking of

asking the commander-in-chief; he has had a letter about me from Prince Kuragin;

and I wanted to ask him simply because,” he added, as though excusing himself,

“I am afraid the guards won't be in action.”

“Very good, very good! we will talk it over later,” said Prince Andrey, “only

let me report on this gentleman's business and I am at your disposal.” While

Prince Andrey was away reporting to the commander-in-chief on the business of

the purple-faced general, that general, who apparently did not share Boris's

views as to the superior advantages of the unwritten code, glared at the

insolent lieutenant, who had hindered his having his say out, so that Boris

began to be uncomfortable. He turned away and waited with impatience for Prince

Andrey to come out of the commander-in-chief's room.

“Well, my dear fellow, I have been thinking about you,” said Prince Andrey,

when they had gone into the big room with the clavichord in it. “It's no use

your going to the commander-in-chief; he will say a lot of polite things to you,

will ask you to dine with him” (“that wouldn't come amiss in the service of that

unwritten code,” thought Boris), “but nothing more would come of it; we shall

soon have a complete battalion of adjutants and orderly officers. But I tell you

what we will do: I have a friend, a general adjutant and an excellent fellow,

Prince Dolgorukov. And though you may not be aware of it, the fact is that

Kutuzov and his staff and all of us are just now of no account at all.

Everything now is concentrated about the Emperor, so we'll go together to

Dolgorukov. I have to go to see him, and I have already spoken of you to him. So

we can see whether he may not think it possible to find a post for you on his

staff, or somewhere there nearer to the sun.”

Prince Andrey was always particularly keen over guiding a young man and

helping him to attain worldly success. Under cover of this help for another,

which he would never have accepted for himself, he was brought into the circle

which bestowed success, and which attracted him. He very readily took up Boris's

cause, and went with him to Prince Dolgorukov.

It was late in the evening as they entered the palace at Olmütz, occupied by

the Emperors and their retinues.

There had been on that same day a council of war, at which all the members of

the Hofkriegsrath and the two Emperors had been present. At the council it had

been decided, contrary to the advice of the elder generals, Kutuzov and Prince

Schwarzenberg, to advance at once and to fight a general engagement with

Bonaparte. The council of war was only just over when Prince Andrey, accompanied

by Boris, went into the palace in search of Prince Dolgorukov. Every one at

headquarters was still under the spell of the victory gained that day by the

younger party at the council of war. The voices of those who urged delay, and

counselled waiting for something and not advancing, had been so unanimously

drowned and their arguments had been confuted by such indubitable proofs of the

advantages of advancing, that what had been discussed at the council, the future

battle and the victory certain to follow it, seemed no longer future but past.

All the advantages were on our side. Our immense forces, undoubtedly superior to

those of Napoleon, were concentrated in one place; the troops were encouraged by

the presence of the two Emperors, and were eager for battle. The strategic

position on which they were to act was to the minutest detail known to the

Austrian general Weierother, who was at the head of the troops (as a lucky

chance would have it, the Austrian troops had chosen for their man