Maximum-assistance view: every word above everyday vocabulary is explained at every appearance; each name is introduced at its first appearance in the chapter.
CHAPTER V
“And what do you think of this latest comedy (this new piece of play-acting; a comedy here is a false show, not something funny), the coronation at Milan (the ceremony in Milan where he set a crown on his own head as king of Italy)?” asked Anna Pávlovna (the lady giving this evening's party), “and of the comedy of the people of Genoa and Lucca (two small Italian states) laying their petitions before (formally begging a favour from) Monsieur (French for Mister; using it here refuses him any higher title) Buonaparte (the French emperor, the enemy in all the evening's talk), and Monsieur Buonaparte sitting on a throne and granting the petitions of the nations (giving whole countries what they beg him for)? Adorable! (the word says lovely; she means the opposite, that it disgusts her) It is enough to make one’s head whirl (make a person dizzy with disbelief)! It is as if the whole world had gone crazy.”
Prince Andrew (a young nobleman, the little princess's husband) looked Anna Pávlovna straight in the face with a sarcastic (saying one thing and meaning the opposite, to mock) smile.
“‘Dieu me la donne, gare à qui la touche!’ (French: God has given me the crown, and anyone who touches it will answer for it)’ * They say he was very fine (very good to hear) when he said that,” he remarked, repeating the words in Italian: “‘Dio mi l’ha dato. Guai a chi la tocchi!’ (the same words in Italian, the language of the country he had just crowned himself over)’
* God has given it to me, let him who touches it beware (anyone who touches it will answer for it)!
“I hope this will prove (show itself to be) the last drop that will make the glass run over (the small final thing that at last makes people act),” Anna Pávlovna continued. “The sovereigns (the kings and emperors of Europe) will not be able to endure (accept without acting) this man who is a menace (a danger) to everything.”
“The sovereigns (the kings and emperors of Europe)? I do not speak of Russia (the country of the people he is speaking to, which he leaves out of the blame),” said the vicomte (the French nobleman; a vicomte is a lord of middle rank), polite but hopeless: “The sovereigns, madame (French: a polite way of speaking to a married woman)... What have they done for Louis XVII (the boy who should have been king of France, who died in prison), for the Queen (the French king's wife, put to death in the Revolution), or for Madame Elizabeth (the dead king's sister, killed in the Revolution)? Nothing!” and he became more animated (lively and heated). “And believe me, they are reaping the reward of (now getting back what they have earned by) their betrayal (the breaking of a promise to their own side) of the Bourbon cause (the fight to put the old royal family of France back on the throne). The sovereigns! Why, (an old way of showing surprise, not the question word) they are sending ambassadors (official messengers sent from one ruler to another) to compliment (say polite things to) the usurper (the man who seized a throne that was not his).”
And sighing disdainfully (in a way that shows he thinks little of them), he again changed his position.
Prince Hippolyte (Prince Vasíli's elder son), who had been gazing (looking steadily) at the vicomte (French nobleman) for some time through his lorgnette (a pair of glasses on a handle, raised to the eyes to look through), suddenly turned completely round toward the little princess (a young woman of one of Russia's great families), and having asked for a needle began tracing (drawing the outline of) the Condé coat of arms (the pattern of colours and shapes that marked the Condé family, a great French noble house) on the table. He explained this to her with as much gravity (seriousness) as if she had asked him to do it.
“Bâton de gueules, engrêlé de gueules d’azur—maison Condé,” (French words for the exact pattern on that family's shield; the point is that he is showing off knowledge nobody asked for) said he.
The princess listened, smiling.
“If Buonaparte remains on the throne (stays as ruler) of France a year longer,” the vicomte (French nobleman) continued, with the air of a man (looking like a man) who, in a matter with which he is better acquainted (who knows more) than anyone else, does not listen to others but follows the current of his own thoughts (says whatever comes next in his own thinking), “things will have gone too far (it will be too late to change anything). By intrigues (secret plots), violence, exile (forcing people to live outside their own country), and executions (killings ordered by the state), French society—I mean good French society (the old noble families and their world, which he counts as the only France worth having)—will have been forever destroyed, and then....”
He shrugged (lifted and dropped his shoulders, meaning he could say no more) his shoulders and spread out his hands (opened both hands wide, meaning there is nothing more to say). Pierre (the big young man newly back from abroad) wished to make a remark, for (because) the conversation interested him, but Anna Pávlovna, who had him under observation (watching him closely), interrupted:
“The Emperor Alexander (the ruler of Russia),” said she (she said), with the melancholy (sadness) which always accompanied any reference (mention) of hers to the Imperial family (the ruling family of Russia), “has declared that he will leave it to (let them decide for themselves) the French people themselves to choose their own form of government (the way a country is to be ruled); and I believe that once free from the usurper (the man who seized a throne that was not his), the whole nation will certainly throw itself into the arms of (gladly give itself to) its rightful king (the king they believe has the true claim),” she concluded, trying to be amiable (friendly) to the royalist emigrant (a Frenchman who ran from the Revolution and still wants a king).
“That is doubtful (not at all certain),” said Prince Andrew. “Monsieur le Vicomte (French: sir, said to a lord of middle rank) quite rightly (correctly) supposes that matters have already gone too far (passed the point where it can be undone). I think it will be difficult to return to the old regime (the way France was ruled before the Revolution).”
“From what I have heard,” said Pierre, blushing (going red in the face) and breaking into the conversation (starting to speak while others were talking), “almost all the aristocracy (the noble families) has already gone over to (changed sides and joined) Bonaparte’s (the same man as Buonaparte, his name spelled the French way instead of the mocking Italian way) side.”
“It is the Buonapartists (the people on Buonaparte's side) who say that,” replied the vicomte (French nobleman) without looking at Pierre. “At the present time it is difficult to know the real state of French public opinion (what ordinary people think).”
“Bonaparte (the same man as Buonaparte, his name spelled the French way instead of the mocking Italian way) has said so,” remarked Prince Andrew with a sarcastic (saying one thing and meaning the opposite, to mock) smile.
It was evident that he did not like the vicomte (French nobleman) and was aiming his remarks at him (saying things meant to sting him), though without looking at him.
“‘I showed them the path to glory (the way to fame won in war), but they did not follow it,’” Prince Andrew continued after a short silence, again quoting (repeating the exact words of) Napoleon’s (the same man the rest of the room calls Buonaparte) words. “‘I opened my antechambers (the small waiting rooms outside a great man's room) and they crowded in (came in all together, eager to serve him in his palace).’ I do not know how far (how much) he was justified (right) in saying so.”
“Not in the least (not at all),” replied the vicomte (French nobleman). “After the murder of the duc (French for the duke; here a young French noble whom Buonaparte had shot) even the most partial (even those most on his side) ceased (stopped) to regard him as (think of him as) a hero. If to some people,” he went on (kept speaking), turning to Anna Pávlovna, “he ever was a hero, after the murder of the duc there was one martyr more in heaven (a neat saying: the dead duke became a holy man killed for a cause, one more in heaven, and Napoleon, by killing him, stopped being a hero) and one hero less on earth.”
Before Anna Pávlovna and the others had time to smile their appreciation (show by smiling that they thought it clever) of the vicomte’s (French nobleman) epigram (a short clever saying), Pierre again broke into the conversation (started to speak while others were talking), and though Anna Pávlovna felt sure he would say something inappropriate (not fit to be said among these people), she was unable to stop him.
“The execution of the Duc d’Enghien (the killing of a young French prince, taken from another country and shot by soldiers),” declared Monsieur Pierre (French: Mister Pierre; the writer names him the French way), “was a political necessity (something a ruler had to do to stay safe in power), and it seems to me that Napoleon (the same man the rest of the room calls Buonaparte) showed greatness of soul (a big and noble heart) by not fearing to take on himself (accept as his own) the whole responsibility of that deed (that act).”
“Dieu! Mon Dieu!” (French: God! My God!) muttered (said in a low unclear voice) Anna Pávlovna in a terrified whisper.
“What, (an old cry of shock, not the question word) Monsieur Pierre (French: Mister Pierre; the writer names him the French way)... Do you consider that assassination (the killing of an important person by surprise) shows greatness of soul (a big and noble heart)?” said the little princess (a young woman of one of Russia's great families), smiling and drawing (pulling) her work (the sewing in her hands) nearer to her.
“Oh! Oh!” exclaimed (called out suddenly) several voices.
“Capital!” (an English word of the time meaning excellent!) said Prince Hippolyte in English, and began slapping (hitting lightly with an open hand) his knee with the palm of his hand.
The vicomte (French nobleman) merely shrugged (lifted and dropped his shoulders, meaning he would not answer) his shoulders. Pierre looked solemnly (very seriously) at his audience over his spectacles (glasses worn on the nose) and continued.
“I say so,” he continued desperately (as a man with nothing left to lose), “because the Bourbons (the old royal family of France) fled (ran away) from the Revolution (French uprising that began in 1789) leaving the people to anarchy (a state with no government at all), and Napoleon (the same man the rest of the room calls Buonaparte) alone understood the Revolution (French uprising that began in 1789) and quelled (put an end to) it, and so for the general good (what is best for everybody), he could not stop short (stop before the thing was finished) for the sake of (just to save) one man’s life.”
“Won’t you come over (move across) to the other table?” suggested Anna Pávlovna.
But Pierre continued his speech without heeding (taking any notice of) her.
“No,” cried he (he said loudly), becoming more and more eager, “Napoleon is great because he rose superior to (stood above, and had power over) the Revolution (the French Revolution, when the people rose against the nobles and killed many of them), suppressed its abuses (stopped the wrongs done in its name), preserved (kept) all that was good in it—equality of citizenship (every person counting the same before the law) and freedom of speech and of the press (the right to say what you think and to print it)—and only for that reason did he obtain power (he got his power for that reason and no other).”
“Yes, if having obtained power, without availing himself of it (without using it) to commit murder he had restored it to (given it back to) the rightful king (the king the old families count as the true one), I should have called him a great man (I would have called him a great man),” remarked the vicomte (French nobleman).
“He could not do that. The people only gave him power that he might (so that he could) rid them of (free them from) the Bourbons (the old royal family of France) and because they saw that he was a great man. The Revolution (French uprising that began in 1789) was a grand thing (a great and fine thing)!” continued Monsieur Pierre (French: Mister Pierre; the writer names him the French way), betraying (showing without meaning to) by this desperate and provocative (made to anger people) proposition (statement offered for argument) his extreme youth and his wish to express all that was in his mind.
“What? Revolution (French uprising that began in 1789) and regicide (the killing of a king) a grand thing (a great and fine thing)?... Well, after that... (an old cry of shock, meaning there is nothing left to say) But won’t you come to this other table?” repeated Anna Pávlovna.
“Rousseau’s Contrat Social (The Social Contract, a famous book by the French writer Rousseau, saying a people may choose who rules them),” said the vicomte (French nobleman) with a tolerant (patient, as with a child) smile.
“I am not speaking of regicide (the killing of a king), I am speaking about ideas.”
“Yes: ideas of robbery (stealing by force), murder, and regicide (the killing of a king),” again interjected (said suddenly, over the other voices) an ironical (saying the opposite of what is meant, to mock) voice.
“Those were extremes (things carried much too far), no doubt, but they are not what is most important. What is important are the rights of man (the claim that every person is owed certain things simply for being a person), emancipation from prejudices (being set free from old beliefs people hold without asking why), and equality of citizenship (every person counting the same before the law), and all these ideas Napoleon (the same man the rest of the room calls Buonaparte) has retained in full force (kept, working exactly as before).”
“Liberty (freedom) and equality,” said the vicomte (French nobleman) contemptuously (as if the words were worth nothing), as if at last deciding seriously to prove (show) to this youth how foolish his words were, “high-sounding words (words that sound noble and mean little) which have long been discredited (shown to be worthless). Who does not love liberty and equality? (he agrees with the words so that they prove nothing: if everyone loves them, loving them says nothing for Pierre) Even our Saviour (Jesus Christ) preached (taught as right) liberty and equality. Have people since the Revolution (French uprising that began in 1789) become happier? On the contrary (the very opposite is true). We wanted liberty, but Buonaparte has destroyed it.”
Prince Andrew kept looking with an amused smile from Pierre to the vicomte (French nobleman) and from the vicomte (French nobleman) to their hostess (the lady giving the party). In the first moment of Pierre’s outburst (sudden loud speech) Anna Pávlovna, despite her social experience, was horror-struck (frozen with shock). But when she saw that Pierre’s sacrilegious (insulting to holy things) words had not exasperated (made angry) the vicomte (French nobleman), and had convinced herself that it was impossible to stop him, she rallied her forces (gathered herself as an army gathers to fight) and joined the vicomte (French nobleman) in a vigorous (strong and determined) attack on the orator (the one making the speech).
“But, my dear Monsieur Pierre (French: my dear Mister Pierre, both warm and polite),” said she, “how do you explain the fact of a great man executing (putting to death by order of the state) a duc (French for a duke, a lord of the highest rank)—or even an ordinary man who—is innocent and untried (never brought before a court)?”
“I should like (I would like),” said the vicomte (French nobleman), “to ask how monsieur (French for the gentleman, meaning Pierre) explains the 18th Brumaire (the day Napoleon took power in France by force; Brumaire was a month in the calendar France used then); was not that an imposture (a false show meant to deceive)? It was a swindle (a trick played to get something for himself), and not at all like the conduct of a great man!”
“And the prisoners he killed in Africa (Africa here means Egypt and the lands beside it, where his army fought and killed men it had taken)? That was horrible!” said the little princess (a young woman of one of Russia's great families), shrugging (lifting and dropping her shoulders, showing disgust) her shoulders.
“He’s a low fellow (a man of no honour), say what you will (whatever anyone argues),” remarked Prince Hippolyte.
Pierre, not knowing whom to answer, looked at them all and smiled. His smile was unlike the half-smile of other people (the writer stops the argument here to show the reader Pierre's face). When he smiled, his grave (serious), even rather gloomy (dark and unhappy), look was instantaneously (in that same moment) replaced by another—a childlike (like a young child's), kindly (warm and friendly), even rather silly look, which seemed to ask forgiveness (that people should stop blaming him).
The vicomte (French nobleman) who was meeting him for the first time saw clearly that this young Jacobin (this young man for the Revolution; Jacobin was the name for its fiercest supporters) was not so terrible as his words suggested. All were silent.
“How do you expect him to answer you all at once (all of them at the same time)?” said Prince Andrew. “Besides, in the actions of a statesman (a man who governs a country) one has to distinguish (tell apart) between his acts as a private person (a man acting for himself and not for the state), as a general, and as an emperor. So it seems to me.”
“Yes, yes, of course!” Pierre chimed in (agreed at that moment), pleased at the arrival of this reinforcement (this help arriving, as fresh soldiers arrive in a battle).
“One must admit,” continued Prince Andrew, “that Napoleon (the same man the rest of the room calls Buonaparte) as a man was great on the bridge of Arcola (a battle where he led his men across a bridge while the enemy shot at them), and in the hospital at Jaffa (Jaffa, a town on the eastern coast of the Mediterranean, where he walked among his own dying men) where he gave his hand to (touched them with his bare hand) the plague-stricken (men dying of a disease that spreads and kills fast); but ... but there are other acts which it is difficult to justify (show to be right).”
Prince Andrew, who had evidently (plainly, as anyone could see) wished to tone down (make less sharp) the awkwardness (the uncomfortable feeling) of Pierre’s remarks, rose and made a sign to his wife that it was time to go.
Suddenly Prince Hippolyte started up (jumped to his feet) making signs to everyone to attend (to listen), and asking them all to be seated began:
“I was told a charming (very pleasing) Moscow (the old capital of Russia, far inland from Petersburg) story today and must treat you to it (give it to you as a pleasure). Excuse me, Vicomte (A French noble title)—I must tell it in Russian or the point will be lost (the joke will stop working)....” And Prince Hippolyte began to tell his story in such Russian as a Frenchman would speak after spending about a year in Russia (in poor, broken speech, like a foreigner who had lived in the country only a year). Everyone waited, so emphatically (with great force) and eagerly (in a way that showed how much he wanted it) did he demand their attention to his story (he demanded that they listen to his story).
“There is in Moscow (the old capital of Russia, far inland from Petersburg) a lady, une dame (French: a lady), and she is very stingy (hating to spend money). She must have two footmen (male servants who rode at the back of a carriage to show their owner's wealth) behind her carriage, and very big ones. That was her taste. And she had a lady’s maid (a woman servant who dressed her and went everywhere with her), also big. She said....”
Here Prince Hippolyte paused, evidently (plainly, as anyone could see) collecting his ideas (trying to get his thoughts in order) with difficulty.
“She said.... Oh yes! She said, ‘Girl,’ to the maid (the woman servant), ‘put on a livery (the uniform a great house gave its servants to wear), get up behind the carriage (climb onto the step at the back where servants rode), and come with me while I make some calls (pay short visits to other people's houses).’”
Here (at this point, not in a place) Prince Hippolyte spluttered (made broken sounds, unable to speak clearly) and burst out laughing long before his audience (began laughing well before the people listening had reached the joke), which produced an effect unfavorable to the narrator (bad for the man telling it). Several persons, among them the elderly lady and Anna Pávlovna, did however smile.
“She went. Suddenly there was a great wind. The girl lost her hat and her long hair came down (fell loose)....” Here (at this point, not in a place) he could contain himself no longer (could not stop himself laughing any more) and went on, between gasps (short sharp breaths) of laughter: “And the whole world knew....”
And so the anecdote (the short story about something that happened) ended. Though it was unintelligible (impossible to make sense of) why he had told it, or why it had to be told in Russian, still Anna Pávlovna and the others appreciated (they were glad of it) Prince Hippolyte’s social tact (the skill of saying the right thing so nobody is hurt) in so agreeably (pleasantly) ending Pierre’s unpleasant and unamiable (unfriendly) outburst (sudden loud speech). After the anecdote the conversation broke up into (separated into) insignificant (too small to matter) small talk (light talk about nothing important) about the last and next balls (large evening parties where people dance), about theatricals (plays performed for and by the guests themselves), and who would meet whom, and when and where.