War and Peace, Volume 1 by Leo Tolstoy Part 1/3
War and Peace Volume One
This is a Librivox recording. All Librivox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to
volunteer please visit Librivox.org.
War and Peace Volume 1 by Leo Tolstoy, translated by Elmer Mod. Book 1, 1805. Chapter One:
Well, Prince, so Genoa and Luca are now just family estates of the Bonapartes. 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 Pavlova Shearer, maid of honor and
favorite of the Empress Maria Federovna. With these words she greeted Prince, a man of high rank and
importance, who was the first to arrive at her reception. Anna Pavlovila 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-liveried
footman that morning, ran as follows:
If you have nothing better to do, Count (or Prince), and if the prospect of spending an evening with a
poor invalid is not too terrible, I shall be very charmed to see you tonight between 7 and 10—Annette
Scherer.
“Heavens! What a virulent attack!” replied the Prince, not in the least disconcerted by this reception. He
had just entered, wearing an embroidered court uniform, knee breeches, and shoes, and had stars on his
breast and a serene expression on his flat face. He spoke in that refined French in which our grandfathers
not only spoke but thought, and with the gentle, patronizing intonation natural to a man of importance
who had grown old in society and at court. He went up to Anna Pavlovna, kissed her hand, presenting to
her his bald, scented, and shining head, and complacently seated himself on the sofa.
“First of all, dear friend, tell me how you are. Set your friend’s mind at rest,” said he, without altering his
tone, beneath the politeness and affected sympathy of which indifference and even irony could be
discerned.
, “Can one be well while suffering morally? Can one be calm in times like these if one has any feeling?”
said Anna Pavlovna. “You are staying the whole evening, I hope?”
“And the English Ambassador’s?”
“Today is Wednesday. I must put in an appearance there,” said the Prince. “My daughter is coming for
me to take me there.”
“I thought today’s fete had been canceled. I confess all these festivities and fireworks are becoming
wearisome.”
“If they had known that you wished it, the entertainment would have been put off,” said the Prince, who,
like a wound-up clock, by force of habit said things he did not even wish to be believed.
“Don’t tease! Well, and what has been decided about Novosiltsev’s dispatch? You know everything.”
“What can one say about it?” replied the Prince in a cold, listless tone. “What has been decided? They
have decided that Buonaparte has burnt his boats, and I believe that we are ready to burn ours.”
Prince Vasily always spoke languidly, like an actor repeating a stale part, and Anna Pavlovna Shearer, on
the contrary, despite her forty years, overflowed with animation and impulsiveness. To be an enthusiast
had become her social vocation and, sometimes even when she did not feel like it, she became
enthusiastic in order not to disappoint the expectations of those who knew her. The subdued smile
which, though it did not suit her faded features, always played round her lips expressed, as in a spoiled
child, a continual consciousness of her charming defect, which she neither wished, nor could, nor
considered it necessary, to correct. In the midst of a conversation on political matters Anna Pavlovna
burst out:
“Oh, don’t speak to me of Austria. Perhaps I don’t understand things, but Austria never has wished, and
does not wish, for war. She is betraying
Chapter 1: A Father’s Troubles
The passage opens with a conversation between two characters, Prince Vasily and Anna Pavlovna. Prince
Vasily is expressing his frustration with his children’s lack of success despite his efforts to educate them.
War and Peace Volume One
This is a Librivox recording. All Librivox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to
volunteer please visit Librivox.org.
War and Peace Volume 1 by Leo Tolstoy, translated by Elmer Mod. Book 1, 1805. Chapter One:
Well, Prince, so Genoa and Luca are now just family estates of the Bonapartes. 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 Pavlova Shearer, maid of honor and
favorite of the Empress Maria Federovna. With these words she greeted Prince, a man of high rank and
importance, who was the first to arrive at her reception. Anna Pavlovila 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-liveried
footman that morning, ran as follows:
If you have nothing better to do, Count (or Prince), and if the prospect of spending an evening with a
poor invalid is not too terrible, I shall be very charmed to see you tonight between 7 and 10—Annette
Scherer.
“Heavens! What a virulent attack!” replied the Prince, not in the least disconcerted by this reception. He
had just entered, wearing an embroidered court uniform, knee breeches, and shoes, and had stars on his
breast and a serene expression on his flat face. He spoke in that refined French in which our grandfathers
not only spoke but thought, and with the gentle, patronizing intonation natural to a man of importance
who had grown old in society and at court. He went up to Anna Pavlovna, kissed her hand, presenting to
her his bald, scented, and shining head, and complacently seated himself on the sofa.
“First of all, dear friend, tell me how you are. Set your friend’s mind at rest,” said he, without altering his
tone, beneath the politeness and affected sympathy of which indifference and even irony could be
discerned.
, “Can one be well while suffering morally? Can one be calm in times like these if one has any feeling?”
said Anna Pavlovna. “You are staying the whole evening, I hope?”
“And the English Ambassador’s?”
“Today is Wednesday. I must put in an appearance there,” said the Prince. “My daughter is coming for
me to take me there.”
“I thought today’s fete had been canceled. I confess all these festivities and fireworks are becoming
wearisome.”
“If they had known that you wished it, the entertainment would have been put off,” said the Prince, who,
like a wound-up clock, by force of habit said things he did not even wish to be believed.
“Don’t tease! Well, and what has been decided about Novosiltsev’s dispatch? You know everything.”
“What can one say about it?” replied the Prince in a cold, listless tone. “What has been decided? They
have decided that Buonaparte has burnt his boats, and I believe that we are ready to burn ours.”
Prince Vasily always spoke languidly, like an actor repeating a stale part, and Anna Pavlovna Shearer, on
the contrary, despite her forty years, overflowed with animation and impulsiveness. To be an enthusiast
had become her social vocation and, sometimes even when she did not feel like it, she became
enthusiastic in order not to disappoint the expectations of those who knew her. The subdued smile
which, though it did not suit her faded features, always played round her lips expressed, as in a spoiled
child, a continual consciousness of her charming defect, which she neither wished, nor could, nor
considered it necessary, to correct. In the midst of a conversation on political matters Anna Pavlovna
burst out:
“Oh, don’t speak to me of Austria. Perhaps I don’t understand things, but Austria never has wished, and
does not wish, for war. She is betraying
Chapter 1: A Father’s Troubles
The passage opens with a conversation between two characters, Prince Vasily and Anna Pavlovna. Prince
Vasily is expressing his frustration with his children’s lack of success despite his efforts to educate them.
