战争与和平(上)-第264章

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at　Tchitchagov；　Kutuzov；　and　Wittgenstein　would　all　reach　an　appointed　spot　in　time　was　so　remote　that　it　practically　amounted　to　impossibility。　As　Kutuzov　in　fact　regarded　it　when　he　said　that　man？uvres　planned　at　great　distances　do　not　produce　the　results　expected　of　them。
Secondly；　it　was　impossible；　because　to　paralyse　the　force　of　inertia　with　which　Napoleon’s　army　was　rebounding　back　along　its　track；　incomparably　greater　forces　were　needed　than　those　the　Russians　had　at　their　command。
Thirdly；　it　was　impossible；　because　the　military　expression；　to　cut　off；　was　really　no　meaning。　One　may　cut　off　a　slice　of　bread；　but　not　an　army。　To　cut　off　an　army—that　is；　to　bar　its　road—is　impossible；　because　there　are　always　many　places　by　which　the　men　can　make　a　circuit　to　get　out；　and　there　is　always　the　night；　during　which　nothing　can　be　done；　a　fact　of　which　the　military　strategists　might　have　been　convinced　by　the　examples　of　Krasnoe　and　Berezina。　One　can　never　take　a　prisoner　unless　he　agrees　to　be　taken；　just　as　one　can　never　catch　a　swallow；　though　of　course　it　is　possible　if　it　settles　on　one’s　hand。　One　can　take　a　prisoner　who　will　surrender；　as　the　Germans　did；　in　accordance　with　the　rules　of　strategy　and　tactics。　But　the　French　soldiers　very　wisely　did　not　feel　it　incumbent　on　them　to　do　so；　since　death　from　cold　and　hunger　awaited　them　as　much　if　taken　prisoner；　as　if　persisting　in　their　flight。
The　fourth　and　chief　reason　why　it　was　impossible　is　that　war　was　waged　in　1812　under　conditions　more　terrible　than　ever　since　the　world　has　existed；　and　the　Russian　troops　strained　every　nerve　in　the　pursuit　of　the　French；　and　could　not　have　done　more　without　perishing　themselves。
The　Russian　army　lost　in　its　march　from　Tarutino　to　Krasnoe　fifty　thousand　sick　or　stragglers；　that　is；　a　number　equal　to　the　population　of　a　large　provincial　town。　Half　of　the　army　was　lost　without　a　battle。
At　this　period　of　the　campaign　the　soldiers　were　without　boots　or　fur…lined　coats；　on　half　rations；　without　vodka；　camping　out　at　night　for　months　in　the　snow　with　fifteen　degrees　of　frost；　while　there　were　only　seven　or　eight　hours　of　daylight；　and　the　rest　was　night；　where　discipline　could　not　exert　the　same　influence；　and　men　were　put　in　peril　of　death；　not　for　a　few　hours；　as　on　the　field　of　battle；　but　for　whole　months　together　were　keeping　up　a　struggle　every　moment　with　death　from　cold　and　hunger。　And　of　this　period　of　the　campaign；　when　half　the　army　perished　in　one　month；　the　historians　tell　us　that　Miloradovitch　ought　to　have　made　an　oblique　march　in　one　direction；　and　Tormasov　in　another；　and　Tchitchagov　ought　to　have　advanced　to　this　point　（the　men　advancing　knee…deep　in　the　snow）；　and　that　so　and　so　pushed　through　and　cut　the　French　off；　and　so　on；　and　so　on。
The　Russian　soldiers　did　all　that　could　or　ought　to　have　been　done　to　attain　an　end　worthy　of　the　people；　and　half　of　them　died　in　doing　it。　They　are　not　to　blame　because　other　Russians；　sitting　in　warm　rooms　at　home；　proposed　that　they　should　do　the　impossible。
All　this　strange　discrepancy　between　the　facts　and　the　accounts　of　historians；　so　difficult　to　understand　to…day；　arises　simply　from　this；　that　the　historians　wrote　the　history　of　the　noble　sentiments　and　fine　speeches　of　various　generals；　and　not　the　history　of　the　events　themselves。
They　attach　great　consequence　to　the　words　of　Miloradovitch；　to　the　honours　bestowed　on　this　general　or　that；　and　the　proposals　made　by　them。　But　the　question　of　the　fifty　thousand　men　who　lay　in　the　hospitals　and　graveyards　does　not　even　interest　them；　for　it　does　not　come　within　the　scope　of　their　researches。
And　yet　we　have　but　to　turn　away　from　researches　among　the　reports　and　plans　of　the　generals；　and　to　look　into　the　movements　of　those　hundred　thousand　men　who　took　direct　immediate　part　in　the　events；　and　all　the　questions　that　seemed　insoluble　before　can　be　readily　and　certainly　explained　with　extraordinary　ease　and　simplicity。
The　plan　of　cutting　off　Napoleon　and　his　army　never　existed　save　in　the　imagination　of　some　dozen　men。　It　could　not　have　existed　because　it　was　absurd　and　could　not　be　carried　out。
The　people　had　a　single　aim：　to　clear　their　country　of　the　invaders。　That　aim　was　effected　primarily　of　itself；　since　the　French　were　flying；　and　all　that　was　necessary　was　not　to　check　their　flight。　It　was　promoted；　too；　by　the　irregular　warfare　kept　up　by　the　people　destroying　the　French　army　piecemeal；　and　thirdly；　by　the　great　Russian　army　following　in　the　rear　of　the　French；　ready　to　use　force　in　case　there　were　any　pause　in　their　retreat。
The　Russian　army　had　to　act　as　a　whip　urging　on　a　fleeing　animal。　And　the　experienced　driver　knew　that　it　was　better　to　keep　the　whip　raised　as　a　menace　than　to　bring　it　down　on　the　creature’s　back。


Part　Fifteen
Chapter　1
WHEN　A　MAN　sees　an　animal　dying；　a　horror　comes　over　him。　What　he　is　himself—his　essence；　visibly　before　his　eyes；　perishes—ceases　to　exist。　But　when　the　dying　creature　is　a　man　and　a　man　dearly　loved；　then；　besides　the　horror　at　the　extinction　of　life；　what　is　felt　is　a　rending　of　the　soul；　a　spiritual　wound；　which；　like　a　physical　wound；　is　sometimes　mortal；　sometimes　healed；　but　always　aches　and　shrinks　from　contact　with　the　outer　world；　that　sets　it　smarting。
After　Prince　Andrey’s　death；　Natasha　and　Princess　Marya　both　alike　felt　this。　Crushed　in　spirit；　they　closed　their　eyes　under　the　menacing　cloud　of　death　that　hovered　about　them；　and　dared　not　look　life　in　the　face。　Carefully　they　guarded　their　open　wounds　from　every　rough　and　painful　touch。　Everything—the　carriage　driving　along　the　street；　the　summons　to　dinner；　the　maid　asking　which　dress　to　get　out；　worse　still—words　of　faint；　feigned　sympathy—set　the　wound　smarting；　seemed　an　insult　to　it；　and　jarred　on　that　needful　silence　in　which　both　were　trying　to　listen　to　the　stern；　terrible　litany　that　had　not　yet　died　away　in　their　ears；　and　to　gaze　into　the　mysterious；　endless　vistas　that　seemed　for　a　moment　to　have　been　unveiled　before　them。
Only　alone　together　were　they　safe　from　such　outrage　and　pain。　They　said　little　to　one　another。　When　they　did　speak；　it　was　about　the　most　trivial　subjects。　And　both　equally　avoided　all　mention　of　anything　connected　with　the　future。
To　admit　the　possibility　of　a　future　seemed　to　them　an　insult　to　his　memory。　Still　more　circumspectly　did　they　avoid　in　their　talk　all　that　could　be　connected　with　the　dead　man。　It　seemed　to　them　that　what　they　had　felt　and　gone　through　could　not　be　expressed　in　words。　It　seemed　to　them　that　every　allusion　in　words　to　the　details　of　his　life　was　an　outrage　on　the　grandeur　and　holiness　of　the　mystery　that　had　been　accomplished　before　their　eyes。
The　constant　restraint　of　speech　and　studious　avoidance　of　everything　that　might　lead　to　words　about　him；　these　barriers；　fencing　off　on　all　sides　what　could　not　be　spoken　of；　brought　what　they　were　feeling　even　more　clearly　and　vividly　before　their　minds。
But　pure　and　perfect　sorrow　is　as　impossible　as　pure　and　perfect　joy。　From　the　isolation　of　her　position；　as　the　guardian　and　foster…mother　of　her　nephew；　and　independent　mistress　of　her　own　destinies；　Princess　Marya　was　the　first　to　be　called　back　to　life　from　that　world　of　mourning　in　which　she　lived　for　the　first　fortnight。　She　received　letters　from　her　relations　which　had　to　be　answered；　the　room　in　which　Nikolushka　had　been　put　was　damp；　and　he　had　begun　to　cough。　Alpatitch　came　to　Yaroslavl　with　accounts。　He　had　suggestions　to　make；　and　advised　Princess　Marya　to　move　to　Moscow　to　the　house　in　Vozdvizhenka；　which　was　uninjured；　and　only　needed　some　trifling　repairs。　Life　would　not　stand　still；　and　she　had　to　live。　Painful　as　it　was　for　Princess　Marya　to　come　out　of　that　world　of　solitary　contemplation；　in　which　she　had　been　living　till　then；　and　sorry；　and；　as　it　were；　conscience…stricken；　as　she　felt　at　leaving　Natasha　alone；　the　duties　of　daily　life　claimed　her　attention；　and　against　her　own　will　she　had　to　give　herself　up　to　them。　She　went　through　the　accounts　with　Alpatitch；　consulted　Dessalle　about　her　little　nephew；　and　began　to　make　preparations　for　moving　to　Moscow。
Natasha　was　left　alone；　and　from　the　time　that　Princess　Marya　began　to　busy　herself　with　preparations　for　her　journey；　she　held　aloof　from　her　too。
Princess　Marya　asked　the　countess　to　let　Natasha　come　to　stay　with　her　in　Moscow；　and　both　mother　and　father　eagerly　agreed　to　her　suggestion；　for　they　saw　their　daughter’s　physical　strength　failing　every　day；　and　they　hoped　that　change　of　scene　and　the　advice　of　Moscow　doctors　might　do　her　good。
“I　am　not　going　anywhere；”　answered　Natasha；　when　the　suggestion　was　made　to　her；　“all　I　ask　is；　please　let　me　alone；”　she　said；　and　she　ran　out　of　the　room；　hardly　able　to　restrain　tears　more　of　vexation　and　anger　than　of　sorrow。
Since　she　felt　herself　deserted　by　Princess　Marya；　and　alone　in　her　grief；　Natasha　had　spent　most　of　her　time　alone　in　her　room；　huddled　up　in　a　corner　of　her　sofa。　While　her　slender；　nervous　fingers　were　busy　twisting　or　tearing　something；　she　kept　her　eyes　fixed　in　a　set　stare　on　the　first　object　that　met　them。　This　solitude　exhausted　and　tortured　her；　but　it　was　what　she　needed。　As　soon　as　any　one　went　in　to　her；　she　got　up　quickly；　changed　her　attitude　and　expression；　and　picked　up　a　book　or　some　needlework；　obviously　waiting　with　impatience　for　the　intruder　to　leave　her。
It　seemed　to　her　continually　that　she　was　on　the　very　verge　of　understanding；　of　penetrating　to　the　mystery　on　which　her　spiritual　vision　was　fastened　with　a　question　too　terrible　for　her　to　bear。
One　day　towards　the　end　of　December；　Natasha；　thin　and　pale　in　a　black　woollen　gown；　with　her　hair　fastened　up　in　a　careless　coil；　sat　perched　up　in　the　corner　of　her　sofa；　her　fingers　nervously　crumpling　and　smoothing　out　the　ends　of　her　sash；　while　she　gazed　at　the　corner　of　the　door。
She　was　inwardly　gazing　whither　he　had　gone；　to　that　further　shore。　And　that　shore；　of　which　she　had　never　thought　in　old　days；　which　had　seemed　to　her　so　far　away；　so　incredible；　was　now　closer　to　her；　and　more　her　own；　more　comprehensible　than　this　side　of　life；　in　which　all　was　emptiness　and　desolation　or　suffering　and　humiliation。
She　was　gazing　into　that　world　where　she　knew　he　was。　But　she　could　not　see　him；　except　as　he　had　been　here　on　earth。　She　was　seeing　him　again　as　he　had　been　at　Mytishtchy；　at　Troitsa；　at　Yaroslavl。
She　was　seeing　his　face；　hearing　his　voice；　and　repeating　his　words；　and　words　of　her　own　that　she　had　put　into　his　mouth；　and　sometimes　imagining　fresh　phrases　for　herself　and　him　which　could　only　have　been　uttered　in　the　past。
Now　she　saw　him　as　he　had　once　been；　lying　on　a　low　chair　in　his　velvet；　fur…lined　cloak；　his　head　propped　on　his　thin；　pale　hand。　His　chest　looked　fearfully　hollow；　and　his　shoulders　high。　His　lips　were　firmly　closed；　his　eyes　shining；　and　there　was　a　line　on　his　white　brow　that　came　and　vanished　again。　There　was　a　rapid　tremor　just　perceptible　in　one　foot。　Natasha　knew　he　was　struggling　to　bear　horrible　pain。　“What　was　that　pain　like？　Why　was　it　there？　What　was　he　feeling？　How　did　it　hurt？”　Natasha　had　wondered。　He　had　noticed　her　attention；　raised　his　eyes；　and；　without　smiling；　began　to　sp