Chapter Chapter 112 · 第112章

During the first weeks of his stay in Petersburg Prince Andrew felt the

whole trend of thought he had formed during his life of seclusion quite

overshadowed by the trifling cares that engrossed him in that city.

On returning home in the evening he would jot down in his notebook four

or five necessary calls or appointments for certain hours. The mechanism

of life, the arrangement of the day so as to be in time everywhere,

absorbed the greater part of his vital energy. He did nothing, did

not even think or find time to think, but only talked, and talked

successfully, of what he had thought while in the country.

He sometimes noticed with dissatisfaction that he repeated the same

remark on the same day in different circles. But he was so busy for

whole days together that he had no time to notice that he was thinking

of nothing.

As he had done on their first meeting at Kochubéy’s, Speránski

produced a strong impression on Prince Andrew on the Wednesday, when he

received him tête-à-tête at his own house and talked to him long and

confidentially.

To Bolkónski so many people appeared contemptible and insignificant

creatures, and he so longed to find in someone the living ideal of that

perfection toward which he strove, that he readily believed that in

Speránski he had found this ideal of a perfectly rational and virtuous

man. Had Speránski sprung from the same class as himself and possessed

the same breeding and traditions, Bolkónski would soon have discovered

his weak, human, unheroic sides; but as it was, Speránski’s strange

and logical turn of mind inspired him with respect all the more because

he did not quite understand him. Moreover, Speránski, either because he

appreciated the other’s capacity or because he considered it necessary

to win him to his side, showed off his dispassionate calm reasonableness

before Prince Andrew and flattered him with that subtle flattery which

goes hand in hand with self-assurance and consists in a tacit assumption

that one’s companion is the only man besides oneself capable of

understanding the folly of the rest of mankind and the reasonableness

and profundity of one’s own ideas.

During their long conversation on Wednesday evening, Speránski more

than once remarked: “We regard everything that is above the common

level of rooted custom...” or, with a smile: “But we want the wolves

to be fed and the sheep to be safe...” or: “They cannot understand

this...” and all in a way that seemed to say: “We, you and I,

understand what they are and who we are.”

This first long conversation with Speránski only strengthened in Prince

Andrew the feeling he had experienced toward him at their first meeting.

He saw in him a remarkable, clear-thinking man of vast intellect who by

his energy and persistence had attained power, which he was using solely

for the welfare of Russia. In Prince Andrew’s eyes Speránski was the

man he would himself have wished to be—one who explained all the facts

of life reasonably, considered important only what was rational, and

was capable of applying the standard of reason to everything. Everything

seemed so simple and clear in Speránski’s exposition that Prince

Andrew involuntarily agreed with him about everything. If he replied and

argued, it was only because he wished to maintain his independence and

not submit to Speránski’s opinions entirely. Everything was right

and everything was as it should be: only one thing disconcerted Prince

Andrew. This was Speránski’s cold, mirrorlike look, which did not

allow one to penetrate to his soul, and his delicate white hands, which

Prince Andrew involuntarily watched as one does watch the hands of

those who possess power. This mirrorlike gaze and those delicate hands

irritated Prince Andrew, he knew not why. He was unpleasantly

struck, too, by the excessive contempt for others that he observed in

Speránski, and by the diversity of lines of argument he used to

support his opinions. He made use of every kind of mental device, except

analogy, and passed too boldly, it seemed to Prince Andrew, from one

to another. Now he would take up the position of a practical man and

condemn dreamers; now that of a satirist, and laugh ironically at his

opponents; now grow severely logical, or suddenly rise to the realm of

metaphysics. (This last resource was one he very frequently employed.)

He would transfer a question to metaphysical heights, pass on to

definitions of space, time, and thought, and, having deduced the

refutation he needed, would again descend to the level of the original

discussion.

In general the trait of Speránski’s mentality which struck Prince

Andrew most was his absolute and unshakable belief in the power and

authority of reason. It was evident that the thought could never occur

to him which to Prince Andrew seemed so natural, namely, that it is

after all impossible to express all one thinks; and that he had never

felt the doubt, “Is not all I think and believe nonsense?” And

it was just this peculiarity of Speránski’s mind that particularly

attracted Prince Andrew.

During the first period of their acquaintance Bolkónski felt a

passionate admiration for him similar to that which he had once felt for

Bonaparte. The fact that Speránski was the son of a village priest,

and that stupid people might meanly despise him on account of his

humble origin (as in fact many did), caused Prince Andrew to cherish his

sentiment for him the more, and unconsciously to strengthen it.

On that first evening Bolkónski spent with him, having mentioned the

Commission for the Revision of the Code of Laws, Speránski told him

sarcastically that the Commission had existed for a hundred and fifty

years, had cost millions, and had done nothing except that Rosenkampf

had stuck labels on the corresponding paragraphs of the different codes.

“And that is all the state has for the millions it has spent,” said

he. “We want to give the Senate new juridical powers, but we have no

laws. That is why it is a sin for men like you, Prince, not to serve in

these times!”

Prince Andrew said that for that work an education in jurisprudence was

needed which he did not possess.

“But nobody possesses it, so what would you have? It is a vicious

circle from which we must break a way out.”

A week later Prince Andrew was a member of the Committee on Army

Regulations and—what he had not at all expected—was chairman of a

section of the committee for the revision of the laws. At Speránski’s

request he took the first part of the Civil Code that was being drawn up

and, with the aid of the Code Napoléon and the Institutes of Justinian,

he worked at formulating the section on Personal Rights.