________________________________________________
_ In Petersburg at that time a complicated struggle was being
carried on with greater heat than ever in the highest circles, between
the parties of Rumyantsev, the French, Marya Fedorovna, the Tsarevich,
and others, drowned as usual by the buzzing of the court drones. But
the calm, luxurious life of Petersburg, concerned only about
phantoms and reflections of real life, went on in its old way and made
it hard, except by a great effort, to realize the danger and the
difficult position of the Russian people. There were the same
receptions and balls, the same French theater, the same court
interests and service interests and intrigues as usual. Only in the
very highest circles were attempts made to keep in mind the
difficulties of the actual position. Stories were whispered of how
differently the two Empresses behaved in these difficult
circumstances. The Empress Marya, concerned for the welfare of the
charitable and educational institutions under her patronage, had given
directions that they should all be removed to Kazan, and the things
belonging to these institutions had already been packed up. The
Empress Elisabeth, however, when asked what instructions she would
be pleased to give- with her characteristic Russian patriotism had
replied that she could give no directions about state institutions for
that was the affair of the sovereign, but as far as she personally was
concerned she would be the last to quit Petersburg.
At Anna Pavlovna's on the twenty-sixth of August, the very day of
the battle of Borodino, there was a soiree, the chief feature of which
was to be the reading of a letter from His Lordship the Bishop when
sending the Emperor an icon of the Venerable Sergius. It was
regarded as a model of ecclesiastical, patriotic eloquence. Prince
Vasili himself, famed for his elocution, was to read it. (He used to
read at the Empress'.) The art of his reading was supposed to lie in
rolling out the words, quite independently of their meaning, in a loud
and singsong voice alternating between a despairing wail and a
tender murmur, so that the wail fell quite at random on one word and
the murmur on another. This reading, as was always the case at Anna
Pavlovna's soirees, had a political significance. That evening she
expected several important personages who had to be made ashamed of
their visits to the French theater and aroused to a patriotic
temper. A good many people had already arrived, but Anna Pavlovna, not
yet seeing all those whom she wanted in her drawing room, did not
let the reading begin but wound up the springs of a general
conversation.
The news of the day in Petersburg was the illness of Countess
Bezukhova. She had fallen ill unexpectedly a few days previously,
had missed several gatherings of which she was usually ornament, and
was said to be receiving no one, and instead of the celebrated
Petersburg doctors who usually attended her had entrusted herself to
some Italian doctor who was treating her in some new and unusual way.
They all knew very well that the enchanting countess' illness
arose from an inconvenience resulting from marrying two husbands at
the same time, and that the Italian's cure consisted in removing
such inconvenience; but in Anna Pavlovna's presence no one dared to
think of this or even appear to know it.
"They say the poor countess is very ill. The doctor says it is
angina pectoris."
"Angina? Oh, that's a terrible illness!"
"They say that the rivals are reconciled, thanks to the angina..."
and the word angina was repeated with great satisfaction.
"The count is pathetic, they say. He cried like a child when the
doctor told him the case was dangerous."
"Oh, it would be a terrible loss, she is an enchanting woman."
"You are speaking of the poor countess?" said Anna Pavlovna,
coming up just then. "I sent to ask for news, and hear that she is a
little better. Oh, she is certainly the most charming woman in the
world," she went on, with a smile at her own enthusiasm. "We belong to
different camps, but that does not prevent my esteeming her as she
deserves. She is very unfortunate!" added Anna Pavlovna.
Supposing that by these words Anna Pavlovna was somewhat lifting the
veil from the secret of the countess' malady, an unwary young man
ventured to express surprise that well known doctors had not been
called in and that the countess was being attended by a charlatan
who might employ dangerous remedies.
"Your information maybe better than mine," Anna Pavlovna suddenly
and venomously retorted on the inexperienced young man, "but I know on
good authority that this doctor is a very learned and able man. He
is private physician to the Queen of Spain."
And having thus demolished the young man, Anna Pavlovna turned to
another group where Bilibin was talking about the Austrians: having
wrinkled up his face he was evidently preparing to smooth it out again
and utter one of his mots.
"I think it is delightful," he said, referring to a diplomatic
note that had been sent to Vienna with some Austrian banners
captured from the French by Wittgenstein, "the hero of Petropol" as he
was then called in Petersburg.
"What? What's that?" asked Anna Pavlovna, securing silence for the
mot, which she had heard before.
And Bilibin repeated the actual words of the diplomatic dispatch,
which he had himself composed.
"The Emperor returns these Austrian banners," said Bilibin,
"friendly banners gone astray and found on a wrong path," and his brow
became smooth again.
"Charming, charming!" observed Prince Vasili.
"The path to Warsaw, perhaps," Prince Hippolyte remarked loudly
and unexpectedly. Everybody looked at him, understanding what he
meant. Prince Hippolyte himself glanced around with amused surprise.
He knew no more than the others what his words meant. During his
diplomatic career he had more than once noticed that such utterances
were received as very witty, and at every opportunity he uttered in
that way the first words that entered his head. "It may turn out
very well," he thought, "but if not, they'll know how to arrange
matters." And really, during the awkward silence that ensued, that
insufficiently patriotic person entered whom Anna Pavlovna had been
waiting for and wished to convert, and she, smiling and shaking a
finger at Hippolyte, invited Prince Vasili to the table and bringing
him two candles and the manuscript begged him to begin. Everyone
became silent.
"Most Gracious Sovereign and Emperor! " Prince Vasili sternly
declaimed, looking round at his audience as if to inquire whether
anyone had anything to say to the contrary. But no one said
anything. "Moscow, our ancient capital, the New Jerusalem, receives
her Christ"- he placed a sudden emphasis on the word her- "as a mother
receives her zealous sons into her arms, and through the gathering
mists, foreseeing the brilliant glory of thy rule, sings in
exultation, 'Hosanna, blessed is he that cometh!'"
Prince Vasili pronounced these last words in a tearful voice.
Bilibin attentively examined his nails, and many of those present
appeared intimidated, as if asking in what they were to blame. Anna
Pavlovna whispered the next words in advance, like an old woman
muttering the prayer at Communion: "Let the bold and insolent
Goliath..." she whispered.
Prince Vasili continued.
"Let the bold and insolent Goliath from the borders of France
encompass the realms of Russia with death-bearing terrors; humble
Faith, the sling of the Russian David, shall suddenly smite his head
in his blood-thirsty pride. This icon of the Venerable Sergius, the
servant of God and zealous champion of old of our country's weal, is
offered to Your Imperial Majesty. I grieve that my waning strength
prevents rejoicing in the sight of your most gracious presence. I
raise fervent prayers to Heaven that the Almighty may exalt the race
of the just, and mercifully fulfill the desires of Your Majesty."
"What force! What a style!" was uttered in approval both of reader
and of author.
Animated by that address Anna Pavlovna's guests talked for a long
time of the state of the fatherland and offered various conjectures as
to the result of the battle to be fought in a few days.
"You will see," said Anna Pavlovna, "that tomorrow, on the Emperor's
birthday, we shall receive news. I have a favorable presentiment!" _
Read next: Book Twelve: 1812: Chapter 2
Read previous: Book Eleven: 1812: Chapter 34
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