War And Peace: Book 10 - CHAPTER VII

作者: Leo Tolstoy

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Author: Leo Tolstoy

AT THE TIME when this was taking place in Petersburg, the French had passed

through Smolensk, and were moving closer and closer to Moscow. Napoleon's

historian, Thiers, like others of Napoleon's historians, tries to justify his

hero by maintaining that he was drawn on to the walls of Moscow against his

will. He is as right as any historians who seek the explanation of historic

events in the will of a man; he is as right as the Russian historians, who

assert that Napoleon was lured to Moscow by the skilful strategy of the Russian

generals. In this case, apart from the law of “retrospectiveness,” which makes

all the past appear a preparation for the subsequent facts, the element of

mutual interaction, too, comes in, confusing the whole subject. A good

chess-player, who has lost a game, is genuinely convinced that his failure is

due to his blunders, and he seeks the blunder at the commencement of the game,

forgetting that at every move during the whole game there were similar errors,

that not one piece has been played as perfectly as possible. The blunder on

which he concentrates his attention attracts his notice simply because his

opponent took advantage of it. How much more complex is the game of war, which

must be played within certain limits of time, in which there is not one will

controlling lifeless toys, in which the whole is the resultant of the

innumerable collisions of diverse individual wills!

After Smolensk, Napoleon tried to force on a battle beyond Dorogobuzh, at

Vyazma, and then at Tsarevo-Zaimishtche. But the Russians could not give battle,

owing to innumerable combinations of circumstances, till Borodino, one hundred

and twelve versts from Moscow. From Vyazma Napoleon gave instructions for an

advance straight upon Moscow.

“Moscow, the Asiatic capital of this great empire, the holy city of the

peoples of Alexander, Moscow, with its innumerable churches in the form of

Chinese pagodas!”

This Moscow would not let Napoleon's imagination rest. On the march from

Vyazma to Tsarevo-Zaimishtche Napoleon was riding on his cream-coloured English

horse, accompanied by his guards, and sentinels, and pages, and adjutants. The

commander of the staff, Berthier, had dropped behind to put questions to a

Russian prisoner taken by the cavalry. Accompanied by the interpreter, Lelorme

d'Ideville, he galloped after Napoleon, and pulled his horse up with an amused

expression.

“Well?” said Napoleon.

“A Cossack of Platov's detachment says Platov is effecting a junction with

the main army, and that Kutuzov has been appointed commander-in-chief. He is

very shrewd and talkative.”

Napoleon smiled, and bade them give the Cossack a horse and bring him before

him. He wished to talk to him himself. Several adjutants galloped off, and

within an hour Denisov's serf Lavrushka, whom his master had left with Rostov,

rode up to Napoleon, sitting on a French cavalry saddle, wearing an orderly's

short jacket, and looking sly, tipsy, and mirthful. Napoleon bade him ride at

his side and began questioning him.

“Are you a Cossack?”

“Yes; a Cossack, your honour.”

“The Cossack, ignorant in whose company he was, since Napoleon's plain

appearance had nothing to suggest to the Oriental imagination the presence of a

monarch, talked with extraordinary familiarity of the incidents of the war,”

says Thiers, relating this episode. In reality Lavrushka, who had been drunk the

previous evening, and had left his master without dinner, had been thrashed for

it, and sent to the village in quest of fowls, where he was tempted on by

plunder till he got caught by the French. Lavrushka was one of those coarse,

impudent lackeys who have seen a good deal of life, look on it as a duty to do

nothing without cunning and trickery, are ready to do any kind of service for

their masters, and are particularly keen in scenting out the baser impulses of

their superiors, especially on the side of vanity and pettiness. On coming into

the presence of Napoleon, whom he easily and confidently recognised, Lavrushka

was not in the least taken aback, and only did his utmost to win the favour of

his new master.

He was very well aware that this was Napoleon, and Napoleon's presence

impressed him no more than Rostov's or the quartermaster's with the rod in his

hand, because he had nothing of which either the quartermaster or Napoleon could

not deprive him.

He had repeated all the gossip that was talked among the officers' servants.

Much of it was true. But when Napoleon asked him whether the Russians expected

to conquer Bonaparte or not, Lavrushka screwed up his eyes and thought a

bit.

He saw in the question a sharp piece of cunning, as cunning fellows, like

Lavrushka, always do in everything. He frowned and paused a minute.

“Well, if it does come to a battle,” he said thoughtfully, “and pretty soon,

then yours will win. That's sure thing. But if now, three days and there's a

battle after that, well then, I say, that same battle will be a long job.” This

was translated to Napoleon. “If a battle is fought within three days the French

will win it, but if later, God knows what will come of it,” Lelorme d'Ideville

put it, smiling. Napoleon did not smile, though he was evidently in high good

humour, and told him to repeat the words.

Lavrushka noticed that, and to entertain him further, said, pretending not to

know who he was:

“We know, you have got your Bonaparte; he has conquered every one in the

world, ay, but with us it will be a different story …” himself hardly aware how

and why this bit of bragging patriotism slipped out. The interpreter translated

these words without the conclusion; and Bonaparte smiled. “The young Cossack

brought a smile on to the lips of his august companion,” says Thiers. After a

few paces in silence, Napoleon turned to Berthier, and said he should like to

try the effect “sur cet enfant du Don” of learning that the man with whom

he was speaking was the Emperor himself, the very Emperor who had carved his

immortally victorious name on the Pyramids. The fact was communicated.

Lavrushka—discerning that this was done to test him, and that Napoleon expected

him to be panic-stricken—tried to gratify his new masters by promptly affecting

to be astounded, struck dumb; he opened round eyes, and made the sort of face

usual with him when he was being led off to be thrashed. “Hardly,” says Thiers,

“had Napoleon's interpreter spoken, than the Cossack was struck dumb with

amazement; he did not utter another word, and walked with his eyes constantly

fixed on the great conqueror, whose fame had reached him across the steppes of

the East. All his loquacity suddenly vanished, and was replaced by a na

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