战争与和平(上)-第194章

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Strange　at　first　sight　as　appears　the　proposition　that　the　Massacre　of　St。　Bartholomew；　the　order　for　which　was　given　by　Charles　IX。；　was　not　the　result　of　his　will；　and　that　it　was　only　in　his　fancy　that　the　command　he　had　given　was　the　cause　of　it；　and　that　the　Borodino　slaughter　of　eighty　thousand　men　was　not　due　to　Napoleon’s　will　（though　he　gave　the　order　for　the　commencement　of　the　battle）；　and　that　it　was　only　his　fancy　that　it　was　his　doing；　strange　as　this　proposition　appears；　yet　human　dignity；　that　tells　us　that　every　one　of　us　is　neither　more　nor　less　a　man　than　Napoleon；　bids　us　admit　that　solution　of　the　question；　and　historical　researches　abundantly　confirm　the　proposition。
At　the　battle　of　Borodino　Napoleon　did　not　fire　at　any　one；　nor　kill　any　one。　All　that　was　done　by　his　soldiers。　Therefore　it　was　not　he　who　killed　those　men。　The　soldiers　of　the　French　army　went　out　to　slay　their　fellow…men　at　Borodino；　not　owing　to　Napoleon’s　commands；　but　through　their　own　desire　to　do　so。　The　whole　army—French；　Italians；　Germans；　Poles—hungry；　ragged；　and　exhausted　by　the　march；　felt　at　the　sight　of　an　army；　barring　their　way　to　Moscow：　the　wine　is　drawn；　it　must　be　drunk。　Had　Napoleon　forbidden　them　at　that　point　to　fight　the　Russians；　they　would　have　killed　him；　and　have　proceeded　to　fight　the　Russians；　because　it　was　inevitable　for　them。
When　they　heard　Napoleon’s　proclamation；　offering　them　as　consolation　for　maiming　and　death　the　reminder　that　posterity　would　say　that　they　had　been　at　the　battle　before　Moscow；　they　shouted；　“Vive　l’Empereur；”　just　as　they　shouted　“Vive　l’Empereur”　at　the　sight　of　the　picture　of　the　little　boy　playing　cup　and　ball　with　the　earth；　and　just　as　they　shouted　“Vive　l’Empereur”　at　every　absurdity　that　was　said。　There　was　nothing　left　for　them　to　do　but　to　shout　“Vive　l’Empereur！”　and　to　fight　so　as　to　get　food　and　rest　as　conquerors　in　Moscow。　Therefore　it　was　not　owing　to　Napoleon’s　commands　that　they　killed　their　fellow…men。
And　it　was　not　Napoleon　who　ordained　the　course　of　the　battle；　because　none　of　his　instructions　were　put　into　execution；　and　he　knew　nothing　of　what　was　passing　before　him。　Therefore　the　manner　in　which　these　men　slaughtered　one　another　did　not　depend　on　Napoleon’s　will；　but　proceeded　independently　of　him；　from　the　wills　of　the　hundreds　of　thousands　of　men　who　took　part　in　the　affair。　It　only　seemed　to　Napoleon　that　all　this　was　due　to　his　will。　And　therefore　the　question　whether　Napoleon　had　or　had　not　a　cold　in　his　head　is　of　no　more　interest　to　history　than　the　cold　of　the　lowest　soldier　of　the　commissariat。
The　contention　of　some　writers；　that　Napoleon’s　cold　was　the　reason　of　his　previous　instructions　and　commands　during　the　battle　being　weaker　than　usual；　is　completely　groundless。
The　instructions　that　have　been　reproduced　here　are　by　no　means　inferior；　are　indeed　superior；　to　many　similar　arrangements　by　which　he　had　gained　victories　in　the　past。　His　supposed　instructions　during　the　day　were　also　in　no　way　inferior　to　the　commands　he　had　given　in　previous　battles；　but　were　much　the　same　as　usual。　But　these　instructions　are　supposed　to　be　inferior；　simply　because　Borodino　was　the　first　battle　in　which　Napoleon　was　not　victorious。　The　finest　and　profoundest　combinations　seem　very　poor；　and　every　military　student　can　criticise　them　with　a　consequential　air；　when　the　battle　has　not　been　won　by　means　of　them；　and　the　stupidest　combinations　will　seem　exceedingly　ingenious；　and　serious　writers　will　fill　volumes　in　proving　their　excellence；　when　the　battle　that　followed　chances　to　have　been　a　victory。
The　plan　composed　by　Weierother　at　Austerlitz　was　a　model　of　perfection　in　its　own　line；　but　it　has　yet　been　condemned；　and　condemned　for　its　very　perfection；　for　its　over…minuteness　in　detail。
At　Borodino　Napoleon　played　his　part　as　the　representative　of　supreme　power　as　well；　or　even　better；　than　he　had　done　at　previous　battles。　He　did　nothing　likely　to　hinder　the　progress　of　the　battle；　he　yielded　to　the　most　sensible　advice；　he　was　not　confused；　did　not　contradict　himself；　did　not　lose　his　presence　of　mind；　nor　run　away　from　the　field　of　battle；　but　with　his　great　tact　and　military　experience；　he　performed　calmly　and　with　dignity　his　role　of　appearing　to　be　in　supreme　control　of　it　all。


Chapter　29
ON　RETURNING　from　a　second　careful　inspection　of　the　lines；　Napoleon　said：
“The　pieces　are　on　the　board；　the　game　will　begin　to…morrow。”
He　ordered　some　punch；　and　sending　for　Beausset　began　talking　of　Paris　with　him；　discussing　various　changes　he　intended　to　make　in　the　Empress’s　household；　and　surprising　the　prefect　by　his　memory　of　the　minutest　details　of　court　affairs。
He　showed　interest　in　trifles；　jested　at　Beausset’s　love　of　travel；　and　chatted　carelessly；　as　some　renowned；　skilful　and　confident　surgeon　will　often　chat　playfully　while　he　tucks　up　his　sleeves　and　puts　on　his　apron；　and　the　patient　is　being　bound　down　on　the　operating…table。　“I　have　the　whole　business　at　my　finger…tips；　and　it’s　all　clear　and　definite　in　my　head。　When　I　have　to　set　to　work；　I　will　do　it　as　no　one　else　could；　but　now　I　can　jest；　and　the　more　serenely　I　jest　the　more　calm　and　confidence　and　admiration　for　my　genius　you　ought　to　feel。”
After　emptying　a　second　glass　of　punch；　Napoleon　went　to　seek　repose　before　the　grave　business　which；　as　he　imagined；　lay　before　him　next　day。
He　was　so　preoccupied　with　what　lay　before　him　that　he　could　not　sleep；　and　in　spite　of　his　cold；　which　got　worse　with　the　damp　of　evening；　he　got　up　at　three　o’clock；　and　went　out　into　the　principal　compartment　of　the　tent；　sneezing　violently。　He　asked　whether　the　Russians　had　not　retreated。　He　was　told　that　the　enemy’s　fires　were　still　in　the　same　places。　He　nodded　approval。
The　adjutant　on　duty　came　into　the　tent。
“Well；　Rapp；　do　you　think　we　shall　do　good　business　to…day？”　he　said　to　him。
“Without　doubt；　sire！”　answered　Rapp。
Napoleon　looked　at　him。
“Do　you　remember　what　you　did　me　the　honour　to　say　at　Smolensk？”　said　Rapp：　“the　wine　is　drawn；　it　must　be　drunk。”
Napoleon　frowned；　and　sat　for　a　long　while　in　silence；　his　head　in　his　hand。
“This　poor　army；　it　has　greatly　diminished　since　Smolensk。　La　fortune　est　une　franche　courtisane；　Rapp。　I　have　always　said　so；　and　I　begin　to　feel　it；　but　the　Guard；　Rapp；　the　Guard　is　intact？”　he　said　inquiringly。
“Yes；　sire；”　replied　Rapp。
Napoleon　took　a　lozenge；　put　it　in　his　mouth；　and　looked　at　his　watch。　He　was　not　sleepy；　and　morning　was　still　far　off；　and　there　were　no　instructions　to　be　drawn　up　to　get　through　the　time；　for　all　had　been　already　given；　and　were　even　now　being　put　into　execution。
“Have　the　biscuits　and　the　rice　been　distributed　to　the　regiments　of　the　Guard？”　Napoleon　asked　severely。
“Yes；　sire。”
“The　rice；　too？”
Rapp　answered　that　he　had　given　the　Emperor’s　orders　about　the　rice；　but　Napoleon　shook　his　head　with　a　dissatisfied　air；　as　though　he　doubted　whether　his　command　had　been　carried　out。　A　servant　came　in　with　punch。　Napoleon　ordered　another　glass　for　Rapp；　and　took　a　few　sips　from　his　own　in　silence。　“I　have　neither　taste　nor　smell；”　he　said；　sniffing　at　the　glass。　“I　am　sick　of　this　cold。　They　talk　about　medicine。　What　is　medicine；　when　they　can’t　cure　a　cold？　Corvisart　gave　me　these　lozenges；　but　they　do　no　good。　What　can　they　cure？　They　can’t　cure　anything。　Our　body　is　a　machine　for　living。　It　is　organised　for　that；　it　is　its　nature；　leave　life　to　it　unhindered；　let　life　defend　itself　in　it；　it　will　do　more　than　if　you　paralyse　it；　encumbering　it　with　remedies。　Our　body　is　a　perfect　watch；　meant　to　go　for　a　certain　time；　the　watchmaker　has　not　the　power　of　opening　it；　he　can　only　handle　it　in　fumbling　fashion；　blindfold。　Our　body　is　a　machine　for　living；　that’s　all。”　And　apparently　because　he　had　dropped　into　making　definitions；　which　he　had　a　weakness　for　doing；　he　suddenly　hazarded　one　on　a　fresh　subject。　“Do　you　know；　Rapp；　what　the　military　art　consists　in？”　he　asked。　“It　is　the　art　of　being　stronger　than　the　enemy　at　a　given　moment。　That　is　all。”
Rapp　made　no　reply。
“To…morrow　we　shall　have　to　do　with　Kutuzov；”　said　Napoleon。　“We　shall　see！　Do　you　remember；　he　was　in　command　at　Braunau；　and　never　once　in　three　weeks　mounted　a　horse　to　inspect　his　entrenchments。　We　shall　see！”
He　looked　at　his　watch。　It　was　still　only　four　o’clock。　He　was　not　sleepy；　the　punch　was　finished；　and　there　was　still　nothing　to　do。　He　got　up；　walked　up　and　down；　put　on　a　warm　coat　and　hat　and　went　out　of　the　tent。　The　night　was　dark　and　damp；　a　slight　drizzle　was　falling　almost　inaudibly。　Close　by　in　the　French　Guard；　the　camp…fires　burned　dimly；　and　far　away　they　were　blazing　brightly　through　the　smoke　along　the　Russian　line。　The　air　was　still；　and　a　faint　stir　and　tramp　could　be　distinctly　heard　from　the　French　troops　beginning　to　move　to　occupy　the　position。
Napoleon　walked　to　and　fro　before　the　tent；　looked　at　the　fires；　listened　to　the　tramp；　and　passed　by　a　tall　guardsman　in　a　fur　cap；　a　sentinel　at　his　tent；　who　drew　himself　up　like　a　black　post　on　seeing　the　Emperor。　The　latter　stood　still；　facing　him。
“Since　what　year　have　you　served？”　he　asked；　with　that　affectation　of　military　bluntness　and　geniality　with　which　he　always　addressed　the　soldiers。　The　soldier　answered。
“Ah！　one　of　the　veterans！　Have　you　all　had　rice　in　the　regiment？”
“Yes；　your　majesty。”
Napoleon　nodded　and　walked　away。
At　half…past　five　Napoleon　rode　to　the　village　of　Shevardino。
It　began　to　get　light；　the　sky　cleared；　only　a　single　storm　cloud　lay　on　the　eastern　horizon。　The　deserted　camp…fires　burned　down　in　the　pale　light　of　morning。
A　solitary；　deep　cannon　shot　boomed　out　on　the　right；　hovered　in　the　air；　and　died　away　in　the　stillness。　Several　minutes　passed。　A　second；　and　a　third　shot　was　heard；　the　air　was　full　of　vibration；　a　fourth　and　a　fifth　boomed　out　majestically；　closely　on　the　right。
The　first　shots　had　not　died　away；　when　others　rang　out；　and　more　and　more；　their　notes　blending　and　overtaking　one　another。
Napoleon　rode　with　his　suite　to　the　Shevardino　redoubt；　and　dismounted　there。　The　game　had　begun。


Chapter　30
PIERRE；　on　returning　to　Gorky　from　seeing　Prince　Andrey；　gave　directions　to　his　postillion　to　have　horses　ready　and　to　call　him　early　next　morning；　and　promptly　fell　fast　asleep　in　the　corner　behind　a　screen　which　Boris　had　put　at　his　disposal。
When　Pierre　was　fully　awake　next　morning；　there　was　no　one　in　the　hut。　The　panes　were　rattling　in　the　little　windows。　The　postillion　was　at　his　side；　shaking　him。　“Your　excellency；　your　excellency；　your　excellency　…”　the　groom　kept　saying　persistently；　shaking　him　by　the　shoulder；　without　even　looking　at　him；　apparently　having　lost　all　hope　of　ever　waking　him　up。
“Eh；　has　it　begun？　Is　it　time？”　said　Pierre；　waking　up。
“Listen　to　the　firing；　your　excellency；”　said　the　postillion；　an　old　soldier；　“all　the　gentlemen　are　gone　already；　his　highness　set　off　long　ago。”
Pierre　dressed　in　haste；　and　ran　out　into　the　porch。　It　was　a　bright；　fresh；　dewy；　cheerful　morning。　The　sun　had　just　broken　through　the　cloud　that　had　screened　it；　and　its　rays　filtered　through　the　rent　clouds；　and　over　the　roofs　of　the　street　opposite　on