Chapter 22 Chapter Twenty Two

On the third day after that, that is, on the morning of the 15th, countless carriages were parked in front of the Sloboda Palace. The hall was full of people.Inside the first building were nobles in uniform, and inside the second building were businessmen with medals, beards, and blue-gray long coats.In the noble meeting hall, there was a buzz of talking and walking.At a table under the emperor's hanging portrait, some of the most important dignitaries sat in high armchairs, but most of the nobles were walking up and down the hall. All these aristocrats whom Pierre saw every day, either in clubs or in their homes, are now in uniform, some from the time of Empress Catherine, some from the time of Emperor Paul, some They wore the uniforms of the new dynasty of Emperor Alexander, and some of them wore ordinary noble uniforms. The common feature of these uniforms is to add a sense of weirdness to these familiar characters, old and young, of all kinds.Especially conspicuous were the old men, with dim eyes, tooth loss, bald skulls, puffy faces, turmeric skin, or wrinkled and bony faces.Most of them sat silent in their seats.If they walk around, looking for someone to talk to, it's looking for a certain young person.All these faces, like the faces Petya had seen in the square, were startling opposites: the anticipation of something great and solemn and the view of everyday, yesterday's events, such as the Boston game. , Chef Petrushka, Zinaida Dmitrievna's health, and other such things.

Early in the morning Pierre appeared in the hall in a narrow aristocratic uniform which made him clumsy.He was very excited: this extraordinary meeting (not only attended by nobles, but also merchants-including all classes of Lesetatsgeneraux), set off in him a series of long-suspended, but deeply imprinted thoughts on Contrat Social and the French Revolution. Lenovo.He saw a sentence in the "Letter to the People", saying that the emperor returned to the capital to discuss state affairs with the people. Pluralism believes that the world has multiple original philosophies.There is much materialism, which affirms his ideas even more.So he thought that the important event he had been looking forward to was coming, so he walked about, watched, listened, but found nowhere the thought that concerned him.

-------- ①French: three-level meeting. ②French: On the Civil Contract. When the emperor's proclamation was read, there was a burst of ecstasy, and then everyone talked and dispersed.In addition to hearing some daily topics, Pierre also heard people talking about: when the emperor came in, where the chief nobles should stand, when to hold a ball in honor of the emperor, whether the counties were separated or the whole province was together... etc.; But when it comes to war and how to summon nobles, it is not so clear and vague.Everyone is willing to listen rather than speak. A middle-aged man, handsome and dignified, wearing a retired navy uniform, was speaking in a hall surrounded by many people.Pierre approached the small circle surrounding the speaker and listened.Count Ilya Andreitch, in the uniform of a Catherine general, was walking up and down the crowd with a cheerful smile.He knew all the people, and he approached the group as he always listened, with a kind smile, nodding his head approvingly as he listened.The ex-marine's talk was bold; it was seen in the looks of the audience, in the dismissive or disapproving behavior of those whom Pierre considered the most honest and stable.Pierre squeezed into the middle, listened attentively, and believed that the speaker was indeed a liberal, but not the liberal he had imagined.The voice of the navy soldiers is particularly loud and melodious. It is the baritone voice unique to the nobility. It pronounces the "P" sound in a French accent with very short consonants, as if calling someone: "Bring tea, bring a cigarette bag!" Tones like that.

There was a habitual arrogance and commanding flavor in his voice. "The Smolensk people suggested to the emperor to form a volunteer army. Are the words of the Smolensk people an order to us? If the nobles of the Moscow province think it necessary, they can use other methods to serve the emperor. Have we forgotten 1807 The vigilante group of the year! As a result, only those who eat the food of the church are the ones who get the benefits, and then there are thieves and robbers..." Count Ilya Andreitch smiled sweetly and nodded approvingly. "Let me ask, is our volunteer army beneficial to the country? There is no benefit at all! It can only ruin our property. It is best to conscript again... Otherwise, the soldiers who return from demobilization are not like soldiers, and farmers are not like farmers. He is a libertine. Nobles do not spare their lives, we all join the army, all of us recruit soldiers, and at the call of the Holy One (as he called the emperor), we will all sacrifice for him.” The orator again passionately said: added.

Ilya Andreitch swallowed with joy and kept poking Pierre, but Pierre was eager to talk too, he pushed forward, feeling very excited, but he didn't know it himself. What, I don't know what to say.Just as he was about to speak, a privy councilor, who was very close to the speaker--a man with no teeth, and a clever face, but scowling, interrupted Pierre.He was clearly accustomed to leading discussions and addressing issues.His voice was low, but still audible. "I think, Your Excellency," the Privy Councilor mumbled in his toothless mouth, "that we have not been summoned to discuss what is in the best interest of the country at present—conscription or a volunteer army. We have come to respond to His Majesty's Our call. As for whether conscription is beneficial or forming a volunteer army is beneficial, we await the ruling of the highest authority..."

Suddenly Pierre's passion had an outlet.Pierre ruthlessly refuted the pedantic and narrow views of the privy councilor on the present affairs of the aristocracy.Pierre stepped forward to stop him.Not even knowing what to say, he began to speak enthusiastically, now with bits of French and now in written Russian. "Excuse me, sir," he began (Pierre was an old acquaintance with the privy councilor, but he thought it necessary for him to speak in an official way at this time), "although I do not agree with this gentleman ... (Pierre Ernestly, he wanted to say montreshonorablepreopinant①) and did not agree with this gentleman ... quejen'aipasl'honneurdeconnalAtre②; but I think that the nobles are invited, besides expressing their sympathy and joy, they should also discuss the salvation of our country Great plan. I think," he said passionately, "if the Emperor sees that we are nothing but serf-owners who have given their serfs to him, that we are merely . ...to save...the strategy of saving the nation, then the emperor will not be satisfied."

-------- ①French: My respectable opponent. ②French: I haven't had the honor to know him yet. ③French: cannon fodder. Seeing the contemptuous smile of the Privy Councilor and Pierre's nonsense, many people walked away from the crowd; only Ilya Andreitch was as satisfied with Pierre's words as he was with the sailors, the Privy Councilor. In short, he is satisfied with everything he has just heard from anyone. "I think, before discussing such matters," continued Pierre, that we ought to ask the Emperor, and respectfully ask His Majesty, to tell us how many troops we have, and what our troops are like with the ones that are fighting, and then ..."

However, before Pierre finished speaking, he was suddenly attacked from three directions.The most serious assailant against him was an old acquaintance of his, Stepan Stepanovitch Apraksin, a good Boston player, who had always been fond of Pierre.Stepan Stepanovitch was wearing a uniform, whether because of it or for some other reason, and Pierre saw a completely different person at this moment.Stepan Stepanovich, suddenly showing an old man's look on his face, shouted at Pierre: "First, sir, we have no right to ask the emperor about this; secondly, even if the Russian nobles have such Right, the emperor may also answer us. The army depends on the enemy's actions - the increase and decrease of the army..."

Apraksin was interrupted by another voice. This man was about forty years old. Pierre had often seen him at the gipsy dancers a while ago, and he knew that he was a bad card player. Changed by his uniform, he took a step towards Pierre. "And now is not the time for talk," said the nobleman's voice, "but for action. The flames of war have spread to Russia. The enemy has come to destroy Russia, to trample on the graves of our ancestors, and to take away our Wife and children." The nobleman beat his chest. "Let us all act, go forward, and fight for the Tsar Lord!" he shouted, with bloodshot eyes.There were approving voices from the crowd.

"In order to defend our beliefs, throne and motherland, we Russians will not hesitate to shed blood and die. If we are the sons of the motherland, let's not just talk about it. Let Europe know how the Russians stood up to defend the motherland." That exclaimed the nobleman. Pierre wanted to object, but could not utter a word.The problem, he felt, was not what thought was in his words, but that his voice was not as loud as that of a lively aristocrat. Ilya Andreitch nodded approvingly behind the circle of the crowd; and at the last words of the man some of them turned sharply to the speaker and said:

"Yes, yes, that's it!" Pierre wanted to say that he had no objection to giving money, serfs, or even himself, but that if the matter were to be solved, it was necessary to understand the situation, but he could not speak a word.Many voices shouted and expressed their opinions, so that Ilya Andreitch was overwhelmed and nodded; the crowd gathered and parted, broke up and gathered again, noisily, and all rushed to a table in the hall.Not only did Pierre fail to finish his sentence, but he was interrupted roughly, they pushed him away, avoided him as if they were a common enemy.This happened not because of dissatisfaction with the meaning of his words—many others spoke after him, and his opinions were long forgotten—but because, in order to cheer a crowd, there must be Objects of love that can be felt and objects of hate that can be felt.Pierre became the latter.After the nobleman's impassioned speech, many others spoke, but they all spoke in the same tone. Many of them spoke very well and had unique insights. Glinka, the publisher of the Russian Herald, was recognized ("Writer, writer!" a cry came from the crowd), and the publisher said that hell should fight back with hell; Smiling while crossing, but let's not be that kid. -------- ① Xie Ni Glinka (1776~1847), a Russian writer. "Yes, yes, thunder and lightning!" Several people standing behind repeated approvingly. The crowd moved towards a large table, at which sat several white-haired and bald dignitaries of seventy, in uniform and sash, almost all of whom Pierre had seen frequently at home amusing clowns. , or playing Boston at the club.The crowd moved noisily to the table.The speakers followed one another, sometimes two at a time, and the speakers were pushed behind the high chairs by the bustling crowd.Those who stood behind found that the speaker had something to say, and hurriedly added it.Others were racking their brains in the heat and crowd for something to say quickly.The senior officials known to Pierre were sitting there, looking now at this and now at that, with obvious expressions on their faces, which only showed that they were very hot.But Pierre's spirits also rose, and the general sacrificing spirit (expressed more in the voice than in the content of the speech) infected him.He does not give up his opinion, but he feels that he has made a mistake and wants to defend himself. "I'm just saying that our sacrifices are worth more when we know what the urgent need is," he said hastily, trying to overpower the others. A little old man who was closest looked back at him, and was immediately attracted by the voice from the other side of the table. "Yes, Moscow is about to be abandoned! It will be a sacrifice!" Someone shouted. "He is the enemy of man!" cried another. "Let me say... Gentlemen, I'm crushed! . . . "