Soon after his Masonic admission Pierre goes to the Kiev province, where he has the most serfs, carrying written directions for his own guidance. At the head office he tells his stewards that steps will be taken at once to free the people, that till then they must not be overburdened, that nursing women are not to be sent to work, that punishments must be admonitory not corporal, and that hospitals, asylums, and schools are to be established. Semiliterate foremen hear audit, embezzlement, or amusement at his lisp; the cleverest, including the chief steward, hear how to handle the master. The steward expresses sympathy, then remarks that the general state of affairs is far from satisfactory.
Despite an income said to be five hundred thousand rubles, Pierre feels poorer than on his father's old allowance of ten thousand. Land Bank payments, the Moscow estate, three princesses, pensions, asylums, Hélène's alimony, interest, and a new church swallow the budget; fires and bad harvests are reported yearly; he must borrow. He has little aptitude for practical business. Daily talks with the steward never link to real movement: the steward paints ruin and wants new serf labour to pay debts; Pierre wants liberation; the steward answers that Land Bank loans must be cleared first, or forests in Kostromá, river land, and the Crimean estate sold through injunctions and permits that bewilder Pierre into saying yes, do so. He pretends to attend; the steward pretends the consultations are valuable. In Kiev, acquaintances and strangers welcome the richest newcomer, and the weakness he confessed at the Lodge, evening parties and balls, swallows months. He knows he fails the Masonic precept of moral example and lacks two of seven virtues, morality and the love of death, yet consoles himself with reforming the human race, love of his neighbour, and generosity.
In spring 1807 he decides to return to Petersburg and inspect the estates on the way. The steward, who thinks the young count's attempts almost insane, stages gratefully religious receptions with icons and bread and salt, not ceremonial welcomes Pierre would dislike. Southern spring and a Vienna carriage gladden him. Peasants seem thriving. One village offers an icon of Peter and Paul and leave to build a chantry; nursing mothers thank him; a priest with a cross presents children taught at the count's expense; brick buildings rise on one plan; accounts show manorial labour diminished. Pierre does not know the chantry village is a market fair, that nine tenths are poor, that nursing mothers now work harder on their own land, that the priest exacts fees, that parents buy children out of school, that brickwork increases real labour while paper labour falls, and that payments cut by a third hide work increased by a half. He writes enthusiastic letters to the Grand Master, thinking how easy it is to do good. The stupid but cunning steward presses harder that the serfs are already happy. Pierre secretly almost agrees, yet insists on what he thinks right. The steward promises everything, seeing clearly that the count will never verify empty schools or unchanged bondage.
