BOOK NINE: 1812
22. CHAPTER XXII
(continued)
Pierre wished to reply, but could not get in a word. He felt that
his words, apart from what meaning they conveyed, were less audible
than the sound of his opponent's voice.
Count Rostov at the back of the crowd was expressing approval;
several persons, briskly turning a shoulder to the orator at the end
of a phrase, said:
"That's right, quite right! Just so!"
Pierre wished to say that he was ready to sacrifice his money, his
serfs, or himself, only one ought to know the state of affairs in
order to be able to improve it, but he was unable to speak. Many
voices shouted and talked at the same time, so that Count Rostov had
not time to signify his approval of them all, and the group increased,
dispersed, re-formed, and then moved with a hum of talk into the
largest hall and to the big table. Not only was Pierre's attempt to
speak unsuccessful, but he was rudely interrupted, pushed aside, and
people turned away from him as from a common enemy. This happened
not because they were displeased by the substance of his speech, which
had even been forgotten after the many subsequent speeches, but to
animate it the crowd needed a tangible object to love and a tangible
object to hate. Pierre became the latter. Many other orators spoke
after the excited nobleman, and all in the same tone. Many spoke
eloquently and with originality.
Glinka, the editor of the Russian Messenger, who was recognized
(cries of "author! author!" were heard in the crowd), said that
"hell must be repulsed by hell," and that he had seen a child
smiling at lightning flashes and thunderclaps, but "we will not be
that child."
"Yes, yes, at thunderclaps!" was repeated approvingly in the back
rows of the crowd.
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