war and peace

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2011 Fall SemesterIntro to Graphic Design

W r i t e r

D e s i g n e r

Book One . . . . . . . . . . . 4Book Two . . . . . . . . . . . 5Book Three . . . . . . . . . . 6Book Four . . . . . . . . . . . 7Book Five & Six . . . . . . . . 8Book Seven . . . . . . . . . . 9Book Eight & Nine . . . . . .10Book Ten . . . . . . . . . . .11Book Eleven & Twelve . . . .12Book Thirteen . . . . . . . . .13Book Fourteen . . . . . . . .14Book Fifteen . . . . . . . . .15Colophon . . . . . . . . . . .16

Table of Contents

ell, Prince, so Genoa and Lucca are now just family estates of the Buon-

apartes. But I warn you, if you don’t tell me that this means war, if you still try to

defend the infamies and horrors perpetrated by that Antichrist- I really believe he is Antichrist- I will have nothing more to do with you and you are no longer my friend, no longer my ‘ faithful slave,’ as you call yourself! But how do you do? I see I have frightened you- sit down and tell me all the news.” It was in July, 1805, and the speaker was the well-known Anna Pav-lovna Scherer, maid of honor and favorite of the Empress Marya Fedorovna. With these words she greeted Prince Vasili Kuragin, a man of high rank and importance, who was the first to arrive at her reception. Anna Pav-lovna had had a cough for some days. She was, as she said, suffering from la grippe; grippe being then a new word in St. Petersburg, used only by the elite. All her invitations without exception, written in French, and delivered by a scarlet-liverihave faith only in Gope!”

1 4 2

In October, 1805, a Russian army was occupying the villages and towns of the Archduchy of Austria, and yet other regiments freshly arriving from Russia were settling near the fortress of Braunau and burdening the inhabitants on whom they were quartered. Brau-nau was the headquarters of the commander-in-chief, Kutuzov. On October 11, 1805, one of the infantry regiments that had just reached Braunau had halted half a mile from the town, waiting to be inspected by the commander in chief. Despite the un-Russian appearance of the locality and sur-roundings- fruit gardens, stone fences, tiled roofs, and hills in the distance- and despite the fact that the inhabitants (who gazed with curiosity at the soldiers) were not Russians, the regiment had just the appearance of any Russian regi-ment preparing for an inspection anywhere in the heart of Russia. On the evening of the last day’s march an order had been received that the commander in chief would inspect the regiment on the march. Though the words of the order were not clear to the regimental commander, and the question arose whether the troops were to be in marching order or not, it was decided at a consultation between the bat-talion commanders to present the regiment in parade order, on the principle that it is always better to “bow too low than not bow low enough.” So the soldiers, after a twenty-mile march, were kept mending and cleaning all night long without closing their eyes, while the adjutants and company commanders calculated and reckoned, and by morn-ing the regiment- instead of the straggling, disorderly crowd it had been on its last march the day before- presented a well-ordered array of two thousand men each of whom knew

1 5 2

were also twenty-two hours in the day during which the private and intimate life of the house continued. After Prince Andrews engagement to Natasha, Pierre without any apparent cause suddenly felt it

impossible to go on living as before. Firmly convinced as he was of the truths revealed to him by his benefactor, and happy as he had been in perfecting his inner man, to which he had devoted himself with

such ardor- all the zest of such a life vanished after the engagement of Andrew and Natasha and the death of Joseph Alexeevich, the news of which reached him almost at the same time. Only the skeleton of

life remained: his house, a brilliant wife who now enjoyed the favors of a very important personage, acquaintance with all Petersburg, and his court service with its dull formalities. And this life suddenly

seemed to Pierre unexpectedly loathsome. He ceased keeping a diary, avoided the company of the Brothers, began going to the Club again, drank a great deal, and came once more in touch with the bachelor

sets, leading such a life that the Countess Helene thought it necessary to speak severely to him about it. Pierre felt that she right, and to avoid compromising her went away to Moscow. In Moscow as soon as

he entered his huge house in which the faded and fading princesses still lived, with its enormous retinue; as soon as, driving through the town, he saw the Iberian shrine with innumerable tapers burning

before the golden covers of the icons, the Kremlin Square with its snow undisturbed by vehicles, the sleigh drivers and hovels of the Sivtsev Vrazhok, those old Moscovites who desired nothing, hurried

nowhere, and were ending their days leisurely; when he saw those old Moscow ladies, the Moscow balls, and the English Club, he felt himself at home in a quiet haven. In Moscow he felt at peace, at home,

warm and dirty as in an old dressing gown. Moscow society, from the old women down to the children, received Pierre like a long-expected guest whose place was always ready awaiting him. For Moscow

society Pierre was the nicest, kindest, most intellectual, merriest, and most magnanimous of cranks, a heedless, genial nobleman of the old Russian type. His purse was always empty because it was open to

everyone. Benefit performances, poor pictures, statues, benevolent societies, gypsy choirs, schools, subscription dinners, sprees, Freemasons, churches, and books- no one and nothing met with a refusal from him, and had it not been for two friends who had borrowed large sums from him and taken him under their protection, he would have given everything away. There was never a dinner or soiree at the Club without him. As soon as he sank into his place on the sofa after two bottles of Margaux he was surrounded, and talking, disputing, and joking began. When there were quarrels, his kindly smile and well-timed jests reconciled the antagonists. The Masonic dinners were dull and dreary when he was not there. When after a bachelor supper he rose with his amiable and kindly smile, yielding to the en-treaties of the festive company to drive off somewhere with them, shouts of delight and triumph arose among the young men. At balls he danced if a partner was needed. Young ladies, married and unmar-ried, liked him because without making love to any of them, he was equally amiable to all, especially after supper. “Il est charmant; il n’a pas de sexe,”* they said of him. *”He is charming; he has no sex.” Pierre was one of those retired gentlemen-in-waiting of whom there were hundreds good-humoredly ending their days in Moscow. How horrified he would have been seven years before, when he first arrived from abroad, had he been told that there was no need for him to seek or plan anything, that his rut had long been shaped, eternally predetermined, and that wriggle as he might, he would be what all in his position were. He could not have believed it! Had he not at one time longed with all his heart to establish a republic in Russia; then himself to be a Napoleon; then to be a philosopher; and then a strate-gist and the conqueror of Napoleon? Had he not seen the possibility of, and passionately desired, the regeneration of the sinful human race, and his own progress to the highest degree of perfection? Had he not established schools and hospitals and liberated his serfs? But instead of all that- here he was, the wealthy husband of an unfaithful wife, a retired gentleman-in-waiting, fond of eating and drinking and, as he unbuttoned his waistcoat, of abusing the government a bit, a member of the Moscow English Club, and a universal favorite in Moscow society. For a long time he could not reconcile himself to the idea that he was one of those same retired Moscow gentlemen-in-waiting he had so despised seven years before. Sometimes he consoled himself with the thought that he was only living this life temporarily; but then he was shocked by the thought of how many, like himself, had entered that life and that Club temporarily, with all their teeth and hair, and had only left it when not a single tooth or hair remained. In moments of pride, when he thought of his position it seemed to him that he was quite different and distinct from those other retired gentlemen-in-waiting he had formerly despised: they were empty, stupid, contented fellows, satisfied with their position, “while I am still discontented and want to do something for mankind. But perhaps all these comrades of mine struggled just like me and sought something new, a path in life of their own, and like me were brought by force of circumstances, society, and race- by that elemental force against which man is powerless- to the condition I am in,” said he to himself in moments of humility; and after living some time in Moscow he no longer despised, but began to grow fond of, to respect, and to pity his comrades in destiny, as he pitied himself. Pierre longer suffered moments of despair, hypochondria, and disgust with life, but the malady that had formerly found expression in such acute attacks was driven inwards and never left him for a moment. “What for? Why? What is going on in the world?” he would ask himself in perplexity several times a day, involuntarily beginning to reflect anew on the meaning of the phenomena of life; but knowing by experience that there were no answers to these questions he made haste to turn away from them, and took up a book, or hurried of to the Club or to Apollon Nikolaevich’s, to exchange the gossip of the town. “Helene, who has never cared for anything but her own body and is one of the stupidest women in the world,” thought Pierre, “is regarded by people as the acme of intelligence and refinement, and they pay homage to her. Napoleon Bonaparte was despised by all as long as he was great, but now that he has become a wretched comedian the Emperor Francis wants to offer him his daughter in an illegal marriage. The Spaniards, through the Catholic clergy, offer praise to God for their victory over the French on the fourteenth of June, and the French, also through the Catholic clergy, offer praise because on that same fourteenth of June they defeated the Spaniards. My brother Masons swear by the blood that they are ready to sacrifice everything for their neighbor, but they do not give a ruble each to the collections for the poor, and they intrigue, the Astraea Lodge against the Manna Seekers, and fuss about an authentic Scotch carpet and a charter that nobody needs, and the meaning of which the very man who wrote it does not under-stand. We all profess the Christian law of forgiveness of injuries and love of our neighbors, the law in honor of which we have built in Moscow forty times forty churches- but yesterday a deserter was knouted to death and a minister of that same law of love and forgiveness, a priest, gave the soldier a cross to kiss before his execution.” So thought Pierre, and the whole of this general deception which everyone accepts, accustomed as he was to it, astonished him each time as if it were something new. “I understand the deception and confusion,” he thought, “but how am I to tell them all that I see? I have tried, and have always found that they too in the depths of their souls understand it as I do, and only try not to see it. So it appears that it must be so! But I- what is to become of me?” thought he. He had the unfortu-nate capacity many men, especially Russians, have of seeing and believing in the possibility of goodness and truth, but of seeing the evil and falsehood of life too clearly to be able to take a serious part in it. Every sphere of work was connected, in his eyes, with evil and deception. Whatever he tried to be, whatever he engaged in, the evil and falsehood of it repulsed him and blocked every path of activity. Yet he had to live and to find occupation. It was too dreadful to be under the burden of these insoluble problems, so he abandoned himself to any distraction in order to forget them. He frequented every kind of society, drank much, bought pictures, engaged in building, and above all- read. He read, and read everything that came to hand. On coming home, while his valets were still taking off his things, he picked up a book and began to read. From reading he passed to sleeping, from sleeping to gossip in drawing rooms of the Club, from gossip to carousals and women; from carousals back to gossip, reading, and wine. Drinking became more and more a physical and also a moral necessity. Though the doctors warned him that with his corpulence wine was dangerous for him, he drank a great deal. He was only quite at ease when having poured several glasses of wine mechanically into his large mouth he felt a pleasant warmth in his body, an amiability toward all his fellows, and a readiness to respond superficially to every idea without probing it deeply. Only after emptying a bottle or two did he feel dimly that the terribly tangled skein of life which previously had terrified him was not as dreadful as he had thought. He was always conscious of some aspect of that skein, as with a buzzing in his head after dinner or supper he chatted or listened to conversation or read. But under the influence of wine he said to himself: “It doesn’t matter. I’ll get it unraveled. I have a solution ready, but have no time now- I’ll think it all out later on!” But the later on never came. In the morning, on an empty stomach, all the old questions appeared as insoluble and terrible as ever, and Pierre hastily picked up a book, and if anyone came to see him he was glad. Sometimes he remembered how he had heard that soldiers in war when entrenched under the enemy’s fire, if they have nothing to do, try hard to find some occupation the more easily to bear the danger. To Pierre all men seemed like those soldiers, seeking refuge from life: some in ambition, some in cards, some in framing laws, some in women, some in toys, some in horses, some in politics, some in sport, some in wine, and some in governmental affairs. “Nothing is trivial, and nothing is important, it’s all the same- only to save oneself from it as best one can,” thought Pierre. “Only not to see it, that dreadful it!”

Prince Vasili was not a man who deliberately thought out his plans. Still less did he think of injuring anyone for his own advantage. He was merely a man of the world who had got on and to whom getting on had become a habit. Schemes and devices for which he never rightly accounted to himself, but which formed the whole interest of his life, were constantly shaping themselves

in his mind, arising from the circumstances and persons he met. Of these plans he had not merely one or two in his head but dozens, some only beginning to form themselves, some ap-proaching achievement, and some in course of disintegration. He did not, for instance, say to himself: “This man now has influence, I must gain his

confidence and friendship and through him obtain a special grant.” Nor did he say to himself: “Pierre is a rich man, I must entice him to marry my daughter and lend me the forty thousand rubles I need.” But when he came across a man of posi-

tion his instinct immediately told him that this man could be useful, and w i th o u t a ny preme ditat ion Prince Vasili took the first opportunity to gain his confidence, flatter him, become intimate with him, and finally make his request. He had Pierre at hand in Moscow and pro- c u r e d f o r h i m a n a p -

pointment as Gentleman of the Bed- chamber, which at that time con- f e r r e d t h e status of Coun-cilor of State, and insisted on the young man accompanying him to Pe- tersburg and staying at his

house. With apparent absent-minded- ness, yet with unhesitating assurance that he was doing the right thing, Prince Vasili did everything to get Pierre to marry his daughter. Had he thought out his plans

beforehand he could not have been so natural and shown such unaffected familiarity in intercourse with everybody both above and be- low him in social standing. Some- t h i n g a l - w a y s d r e w

him toward those richer and more powerful than himself and he had rare skill in se i z ing the most opportune moment for making use of people. Pierre, on unexpectedly b e c o m i n g

Count Bezukhov and a rich man, felt himself after his recent loneliness and f re e- d o m f r o m cares so beset and preoccupied that only in bed was he able to be by himself. He had to sign pa-

pers, to present himself at government offices, the purpose of which was not clear to him, to question his chief steward, to visit his estate near Moscow, and to receive many people

who formerly did not even wish to know of his existence but would now have been offended and grieved had he chosen not to see them. These different peo- p le- bus i -

nessmen, relations, and acquaintanc- es alike- were all disposed to treat the young heir in the most friendly and flattering manner: they were all evidently firmly con-

vinced of Pierre’s noble qualities. He was always hearing such words as: “With your remarkable kindness,” or, “With your excellent heart,” “You are yourself so honorable Count,” or, “Were he as clever as you,” and so on, till he began sincerely to believe in

his own exceptional kindness and extraordinary intelligence, the more so as in the depth of his heart it had always seemed to him that he really was ver y kind

and intelligent. Even people who had formerly been spiteful toward him a n d e v i -dently unfriendly now became gen- tle and affectionate. The angry eldest p r i n c e s s ,

with the long waist and hair plas- tered down like a doll’s, had come into P i e r r e ’ s room after the funeral. With droop- ing eyes and frequent blushes she told him s h e w a s

very sorry about their past misun- derstandings and did not now feel she had a right to ask him for anything, except only f o r p e r - mission, after the blow she had received, to

remain for a few weeks longer in the house she so loved and where she had sac- rificed so much. She could not refrain from weeping at these words. Touched that this stat- u e s q u e

princess could so change, Pierre took her hand and begged her forgiveness, w i t h o u t knowing what for. From that day t h e e l - dest princess quite changed toward Pierre and began knitting a striped scarf for him. “Do this for my sake, mon cher; after all, she had to

put up with a great deal from the deceased,” said Prince Vasili to him, handing h i m a deed to sign for the princess’ benefit. P r i n c e Vasili had come to the conclusion that it was

necessary to throw this bone- a bill for thirty thousand rubles- to the poor princess that it might not occur to her to speak of his share in the affair of the inlaid portfo- lio. Pierre

signed the deed and after that the p r i n ce s s grew still kinder. The younger sis- ters also became affectionate to him, especially the youngest, the pretty one with the m o l e ,

who often made him feel confused by her smiles and her own confusion when meeting him. It seemed so natural to Pierre that everyone should like him, and it would have seemed

so unnatural had anyone disliked him, that he could not but believe in the sincerity of those around him. Besides, he had no time to ask himself whether these

people were sincere or not. He was always busy and always felt in a state of mild and cheerful intoxication. He felt as though he were the

center of some important and general movement; that some-thing was constantly expected of him, that if he did not

do it he would grieve and disappoint many people, but if he did this and that, all would be well;

and he did what was demanded of him, but still that happy result always

remained in the f uture . More than a n y o n e

e l s e , Prince

Vasili took pos-

session of Pierre’s affairs and of Pierre

himself in those early days. From the death of Count Be-zukhov he did not let go his hold of the lad. He had the air of a man oppressed by business, weary and suffering, who yet

would not, for pity’s sake, leave this helpless youth who, after all, was the

son of his old friend and the possessor of such enormous wealth, to the caprice of

fate and the designs of rogues. During t h e fe w days he spent in Moscow after

the death of Count Bezukhov, he would c a l l Pierre, or go to him himself, and

tel l him what ought to be done in a tone of weari- ness and assurance, as if he were

a d d i n g every time: “You know I am over-whelmed with business and it is purely out

of charity that I trouble myself about you, a n d y o u also know quite well that what I

propose is the only thing possible.” “Well, my dear fellow, tomorrow we are off at last,”

said Prince Vasili one day, closing his eyes and f inger ing Pierre’s elbow, speaking as if he

were say- ing something which had long since been agreed upon and could not now be

a l t e r e d . “We start tomorrow and I’m giving you a place in my carriage. I am very glad. All

o u r i m - portant business here is now set-tled, and I ought to have been off long ago.

H e r e i s something I have received from the chancellor. I asked him for you, and you have

b e e n e n - tered in the diplomatic corps and made a Gen- tleman of the Bedchamber. Early in

the year 1806 Nicholas Rostov returned home on leave. Denisov was going home to Voronezh and Rostov persuaded him to travel with him as far as Moscow and to stay with him there. Meeting

a comrade at the last post station but one before Moscow, Denisov had drunk three bottles of wine with him and, despite the jolting ruts across the snow-covered road, did not once wake up on the way

to Moscow, but lay at the bottom of the sleigh beside Ros- tov, who grew more and more impa-

t i e n t t h e nearer they got to Moscow. “How m u c h l o n - ger? How much longer? Oh, these in-

s u f f e r a b l e streets, shops, bakers’ signboards, street lamps, and sleighs!” thought Rostov, when

t h e i r l e a v e permits had been passed at the town gate and they had entered Moscow. “Denisov!

We’re here ! He’s asleep,” he added, leaning for-ward with his whole body as if in that position he

hoped to has- ten the speed of the sleigh. Denisov gave no answer. “There’s the corner at the crossroads,

where the cab- man, Zakhar, has his stand, and there’s Zakhar himself and still the same horse! And here’s

the little shop where we used to buy gingerbread! Can’t you hurry up? Now then!” “Which house is it?” asked

the driver. “Why, that one, right at the end, the big one. Don’t you see? That’s our house,” said Rostov. “Of course, it’s our house! Denisov, Denisov! We’re almost

there!” Denisov raised his head, coughed, and made no answer. “Dmitri,” said Rostov to his valet on the box, “those lights are in our house, aren’t they?” “Yes, sir, and there’s a light in your father’s study.” “Then they’ve not gone to

b e d y e t ? W h a t d o y o u

Vasili took pos-

session of Pierre’s affairs and of Pierre

himself in those early days. From the death of Count Be-zukhov he did not let go his hold of the lad. He had the air of a man oppressed by business, weary and suffering, who yet

would not, for pity’s sake, leave this helpless youth who, after all, was the

son of his old friend and the possessor of such enormous wealth, to the caprice of

fate and the designs of rogues. During t h e fe w days he spent in Moscow after

the death of Count Bezukhov, he would c a l l Pierre, or go to him himself, and

tel l him what ought to be done in a tone of weari- ness and assurance, as if he were

a d d i n g every time: “You know I am over-whelmed with business and it is purely out

of charity that I trouble myself about you, a n d y o u also know quite well that what I

propose is the only thing possible.” “Well, my dear fellow, tomorrow we are off at last,”

said Prince Vasili one day, closing his eyes and f inger ing Pierre’s elbow, speaking as if he

were say- ing something which had long since been agreed upon and could not now be

a l t e r e d . “We start tomorrow and I’m giving you a place in my carriage. I am very glad. All

o u r i m - portant business here is now set-tled, and I ought to have been off long ago.

H e r e i s something I have received from the chancellor. I asked him for you, and you have

b e e n e n - tered in the diplomatic corps and made a Gen- tleman of the Bedchamber. Early in

the year 1806 Nicholas Rostov returned home on leave. Denisov was going home to Voronezh and Rostov persuaded him to travel with him as far as Moscow and to stay with him there. Meeting

a comrade at the last post station but one before Moscow, Denisov had drunk three bottles of wine with him and, despite the jolting ruts across the snow-covered road, did not once wake up on the way

to Moscow, but lay at the bottom of the sleigh beside Ros- tov, who grew more and more impa-

t i e n t t h e nearer they got to Moscow. “How m u c h l o n - ger? How much longer? Oh, these in-

s u f f e r a b l e streets, shops, bakers’ signboards, street lamps, and sleighs!” thought Rostov, when

t h e i r l e a v e permits had been passed at the town gate and they had entered Moscow. “Denisov!

We’re here ! He’s asleep,” he added, leaning for-ward with his whole body as if in that position he

hoped to has- ten the speed of the sleigh. Denisov gave no answer. “There’s the corner at the crossroads,

where the cab- man, Zakhar, has his stand, and there’s Zakhar himself and still the same horse! And here’s

the little shop where we used to buy gingerbread! Can’t you hurry up? Now then!” “Which house is it?” asked

the driver. “Why, that one, right at the end, the big one. Don’t you see? That’s our house,” said Rostov. “Of course, it’s our house! Denisov, Denisov! We’re almost

there!” Denisov raised his head, coughed, and made no answer. “Dmitri,” said Rostov to his valet on the box, “those lights are in our house, aren’t they?” “Yes, sir, and there’s a light in your father’s study.” “Then they’ve not gone to

b e d y e t ? W h a t d o y o u

think? Mind now, don’t forget to put out my new coat,” added Rostov, fingering his new mustache. “Now then, get on,” he

shouted to the driver. “Do wake up, Vaska!” he went on, turning to Denisov, whose head was again nodding. “Come, get on! You shall have three rubles for vodka- get on!” Rostov shouted, when the sleigh was only three houses

from his door. It seemed to him the horses were not moving at all. At last the sleigh bore to the right, drew up at an entrance, and Ros- tov saw overhead the old familiar cornice

with a bit of plaster broken off, the porch, and the post by the side of the pave-ment. He sprang out before the sleigh stopped, and ran into the hall. The house stood cold and silent, as if quite regardless of who had come to it. There was no one in the hall. “Oh God! Is everyone all right?” he thought, stopping for a moment with a sink- ing heart, and then immediately start-ing to run along the hall and up the warped steps of the familiar staircase. The well-known old door handle, which always angered the countess when it was not properly cleaned, turned as loosely as ever. A solitary tal-low candle burned in the anteroom. Old Michael was asleep on the chest. Prokofy, the footman, who was so strong that he could lift the back of the carriage from behind, sat plaiting slippers out of cloth selvedges. He looked up at the opening door and his expression of sleepy indifference suddenly changed to one of delight- ed amazement. “Gracious heavens! The young count!” he cried, recog- nizing his young master. “Can it be? My treasure!” and Prokofy, trem- bling with excitement, rushed to-ward the drawing-room door, prob- ably in order to announce him, but, changing his mind, came back and stooped to kiss the young man’s shoulder. “All well?” asked Rostov, drawing away his arm. “Yes, God be thanked! Yes! They’ve just finished supper. Let me have a look at you, your excellency.” “Is everything quite all right?” “The Lord be thanked, yes!” Rostov, who had completely forgotten Denisov, not wishing anyone to forestall him, threw off his fur coat and ran on tiptoe through the large dark ball-room. All was the same: there were the same old card tables and the same chandelier with a cover over it; but someone had already seen the young master, and, be-fore he had reached the drawing room, something flew out from a side door like a tornado and began hugging and kissing him. Another and yet another creature of the same kind sprang from a second door and a third; more hugging, more kissing, more outcries, and tears of joy. He could not distinguish which was Papa, which Natasha, and which Petya. Everyone shouted, talked, and kissed him at the same time. Only his mother was not there, he noticed that. “And I did not know... Nicholas... My darling!...” “Here he is... our own... Kolya,* dear fellow... How he has changed!... Where are the candles?... Tea!...” *Nicholas. “And me, kiss me!” “Dearest... and me!”

Sonya , Natasha , Petya , Anna Mikhaylovna, Vera, and the old count were all hugging him, and the serfs, men and maids, flocked into the room, exclaiming and oh-ing and ah-ing. Petya, clinging to his legs, kept shouting, “And me too!” Natasha, after she had pulled him down toward her and covered his face with kisses, holding him tight by the skirt of his coat, sprang away and pranced up and down in one place like a goat and shrieked pierc-ingly. All around were loving eyes glistening with tears of joy, and all around were lips seeking a kiss. Sonya too, all rosy red, clung to his arm and, radiant with bliss, looked eagerly toward his eyes, waiting for the look for which she

longed. Sonya now was sixteen and she was very pretty, especially at this mo-ment of happy, rapturous excitement. She gazed at him, not taking her eyes off him, and smiling and holding her breath. He gave her a grateful look, but was still expectant and looking for someone. The old countess had not yet come. But now steps were heard at the door, steps so rapid that they could

hardly be his mother’s. Yet it was she, dressed in a new gown which he did not know, made since he had left. All the others let him go, and he ran to her.

When they met, she fell on his breast, sobbing. She could not lift her face, but only pressed it to the cold braiding of his hussar’s jacket. Denisov, who had come into the room unno-

ticed by anyone, stood there and wiped his eyes at the sight. “Vasili Denisov, your son’s friend,” he said, introduc-ing himself to the count, who was looking inquiringly at him. “You are most welcome! I know, I know,” said the

count , kissing and embracing Denisov. “Nicholas wrote us... Nat a sh a , Ve r a ,

1 9 2

Th e Bible legend tells us that the absence of labor- idleness- was a condition of the f rst man’s blessedness before the Fall . Fallen man has retained a love o

f idlen

ess, b

ut th

e cur

se w

eigh

s on

the r

ace n

ot o

nly b

ecau

se we h

ave t

o seek our bread in the sweat

of our brows, but because our m

oral idle and at ease . A

n inner voice tells nature is such that we cannot be both

us we are in the wrong if we are idle .

By adopting smaller and smaller elements of mo-tion we only approach a solution of the problem,

but,

a common ratio of one tenth and have found

the sum of this progres-sion to infinity, do we

reach

can now yield in other more complex problems of motion which used to

appear insoluble. This modern

never reach it . Only when we have admitted the conception of the infnite-ly small, and the resulting geometrical progression with

a solution of the prob-lem . A modern branch of mathematics having achieved the art of deal-ing with the infnitely small

branch of mathematics, unknown to the ancients, when dealing with prob-lems of motion admits the conception of the infnitely .

1 12 2

Man’s mind cannot grasp the causes of events in their completeness, but the desire to find

those causes is implanted in man’s soul. And without considering the multiplicity

and complexity of the conditions any one of which taken separately may

seem to be the cause, he snatches at the first approximation to

a cause that seems to him intelligible and says: “This

is the cause!” In histori-cal events (where the

actions of men are the subject of

observation) t h e f i r s t

and most primi-

t ive

was the w

ill of the gods and, after that, the will

of those who stood in the m

ost prominent

position- the heroes of history. But we need

only penetrate to the essence of any his-toric event- w

hich lies in the activity of the general m

ass of men w

ho take part in it- to be convinced that the

will of the historic hero does not control the actions of the

mass but is itself continu-ally controlled. It m

ay seem

to be a mat-

ter of indifference w

hether we un-

derstand the m

eaning of historical

events this

way or that; yet there is the same difference be-tween a man who says that the people of the

West moved on the East because Napoleon wished it and a man who says that this

happened because it had to happen, as there is between those who declared

that the earth was stationary and that the planets moved round

it and those who admitted that they did not know

what upheld the earth, but knew there were

laws directing its movement and

that of the other plan-

ets. There is, and

can

be, n

o ca

use

of a

n hi

stor

ical

eve

nt e

xcep

t the

on

e ca

use

of a

ll ca

uses

. But

ther

e ar

e la

ws

dire

ctin

g eve

nts,

and

som

e of t

hese

law

s are

kn

own

to u

s whi

le w

e ar

e co

nsci

ous o

f ot

hers

we c

anno

t com

preh

end.

The d

is-co

very

of t

hese

law

s is o

nly p

ossib

le w

hen

we

have

qui

te a

band

oned

th

e at

tem

pt to

find

the

caus

e in

the w

ill o

f som

e one

man

, ju

st as

the d

iscov

ery o

f the

law

s of t

he m

otio

n of

the

plan

ets w

as p

ossib

le

only

whe

n m

en

aban

done

d th

e co

ncep

tion

of

the fi

xity

of

the e

arth

.

1 13 2

freedom

dom

On August

others were

of themselves

sometimes

24 Davydov’s

recognized.

from that

shook that

first partisan

They gath-

withered

tree itself.

detachment

ered the

tree- the

was formed

fallen leaves

French

and the

army- and

that dropped

1 14 2

freedom

freedom freedomfreedom

f r e e d o m

freedom

dependence

1 15 2

C o l o p h o n

Cover Bold Display Light Italic

Title Page Bold Display 108/84 Bold Display 14/18 Display 14/18

Credits Light Italic 16/19 Bold 16/19 light 14/16

TOC Bold Display 60/60 Bold Display 23/60 Italic 19/26

Page 4 Light Italic 12/13

Page 5 Light Italic 12/13

Page 6 Bold Display 12/31 - .5

Page 7 Bold Display 12/31 - .5

Page 8 Light Subhead 4/4


Page 10 Regular

Page 11 Italic 12/19

Page 12 Semibold 12/13 Italic 12/11


Page 14 Subhead 11/10

Page 15 Bold Italic Display 170/200 Caption 110/130 Light Subhead 110/80 Bold Display 75/91 Light Italic 90/100 Light Subhead 31/37 Light Display 170/200 Bold Caption 72/86

1 16 2

war and peace

Documents

book fourteen14book

book seven9book

book three6book

parade order

marching order

s t o ya n d r e w b

grippe grippe

unrussian appearance