'He's the enemy of mankind!' came another.
'If I could just say . . .'
'Gentlemen, you're squashing me! . . .'
CHAPTER 23
At that moment the crowd parted and Count Rostopchin, with his jutting chin and sharp eyes, came bustling in dressed in a general's uniform with a sash over his shoulder.
'Our sovereign the Emperor will be here immediately,' said Rostopchin. 'I have just come from him. I am assuming that, given our present situation, there is not much to discuss. The Emperor has graciously seen fit to summon us along with the merchants,' said Count Rostopchin. 'Millions will flow from that quarter.' He pointed to the merchants' hall. 'Our task is to raise men and not spare ourselves . . . It's the least we can do.'
The only consultation was with the bigwigs at the table. To say it was conducted quietly would be an understatement; the atmosphere was positively lugubrious when, after the racket that had gone before, all that could be heard were a few old men's voices reciting one at a time, 'Yes, I agree,' or, just to be different, 'Yes, I'm of the same opinion.'
The secretary was instructed to write down the resolution of the Moscow nobility, to wit: the nobles of Moscow, like those of Smolensk, shall furnish a levy of ten men per thousand serfs, fully kitted out.
The gentlemen got to their feet with an air of relief when the session was over, scraped their chairs back and strolled round the room, stretching their legs, taking their friends by the arm and having a good chat.
'The Tsar! The Tsar!' came the sudden call through every room, and the whole crowd swarmed towards the entrance.
The Tsar walked in down a wide aisle formed by two lines of noblemen. Every face was a picture of reverence mixed with alarm and curiosity. Pierre was some way away, and he couldn't quite catch everything said by the Tsar. He could tell from what he did hear that the Tsar was speaking of the danger that threatened the empire, and his great faith in the Moscow nobility. In response another voice informed the Tsar of the resolution just passed by the assembly.
'Gentlemen!' The Tsar's voice trembled as he spoke.
A ripple of anticipation passed through the crowd, then there was silence and Pierre could hear the Tsar quite clearly. He sounded caring, compassionate and deeply emotional as he said:
'I have never doubted the loyalty of you Russian noblemen. But this day it has surpassed my expectations. I thank you in the name of the fatherland. Gentlemen, we must act! Time is of the essence . . .'
The Tsar stopped talking, everyone crowded in on him, and cries of delight echoed on all sides.
'Yes indeed, of the essence . . . from the mouth of the Tsar!' came the sobbing voice of Count Rostov from the back. He hadn't heard a word, but in his own way he seemed to understand.
The Tsar then went on from the nobility's room to the merchants' room. He was there for ten minutes or so. Pierre watched with the rest as the Tsar came back from the merchants' room full of emotion and with tears in his eyes. They learnt afterwards that the Tsar had hardly begun to speak to the merchants when he broke down in tears and finished what he had to say in a trembling voice. When Pierre saw the Emperor he was on his way out with two merchants. Pierre knew one of them, a portly tax-farmer; the other was the mayor, a man with a pinched, sallow face and narrow beard. Both were in tears. The thin man's eyes were watering, but the portly tax-farmer was blubbering like a child and he kept repeating:
'Life, property, take it all, your Majesty!'
At that moment Pierre had only one thought in mind: the urge to show that nothing was too much for him and he would make any sacrifice. The constitutional implications of his speech were on his conscience, and he now wanted a chance to smooth things over. When he heard that Count Mamonov was furnishing a regiment, Bezukhov lost no time in informing Count Rostopchin that he would furnish and maintain a thousand men.
Old Rostov couldn't hold back his tears as he told the whole story to his wife. He agreed to Petya's request on the spot and set off personally to register his name.
The Tsar left Moscow the next day.
The noblemen went back from the assembly to their homes and clubs, took off their uniforms, and with deep misgivings issued orders to their stewards to start raising the levy. They were amazed at what they had done.
PART II
CHAPTER 1
Napoleon went to war with Russia because he could not resist going to Dresden, could not resist the adulation, could not resist the idea of donning the Polish uniform, and giving in to the stimulating feel of a June morning, and could not contain his petulant outbursts in the presence of Kurakin and later on Balashev.
Alexander refused all negotiations because he felt personally insulted. Barclay de Tolly tried to command the army as best he could so as to do his duty and earn a glorious reputation as a great general. Rostov attacked the French because he could not resist the temptation to gallop across a flat field. And all the countless numbers of people involved in this war acted like this, each according to his own peculiarities, habits, circumstances and aims. Moved ostensibly by fear or vanity, pleasure, indignation or reason, and acting on the assumption they knew what they were doing and were doing it for themselves, they were actually nothing more than unwitting tools in the hands of history, performing a function hidden from themselves but comprehensible to us. This is the unavoidable fate of all men of action, and the higher they stand in the social hierarchy the less freedom they have.
As we write, the leading figures of 1812 are long gone from the scene, their personal interests have vanished without trace, and all we have to go on are the historical results of that period.
But if we assume that the people of Europe under Napoleon's leadership somehow had to go over and die in the depths of Russia, all the senseless, cruel and self-contradictory actions of the participants in this war become intelligible.
It was Providence that compelled all those men, striving for the realization of their own personal ambitions, to work co-operatively towards an outcome of immense significance, of which no single individual (not Napoleon, not Alexander, even less anybody actually involved in the fighting) had the slightest inkling.
We write now with a clear view of what caused the rout of the French army in 1812. It is beyond argument: two things caused the rout of Napoleon's French forces - on the one hand, they were badly prepared for a winter campaign in the Russian heartland, and they set out too late; on the other hand, the war took on a special character after the burning of Russian towns and the build-up of Russian hatred for the enemy. But at the time no one foresaw what now seems obvious: this was the only way the best army in the world, eight hundred thousand strong and led by the best general, could have lost to a Russian army wet behind the ears, half as strong and led by inexperienced generals. Not only was this entirely unforeseen, but on the Russian side every last effort was made to prevent the only thing that could have saved Russia, and on the French side, despite Napoleon's depth of experience and supposed military genius, every effort was made to push on to Moscow in late summer, the one thing that would guarantee disaster.
In historical works on the year 1812 French writers like to claim that Napoleon was well aware of the danger of extending his line, that he wanted to fight, and that his marshals advised him to call a halt at Smolensk. By arguing along these lines they seek to demonstrate that even at that stage of the campaign the real danger had been spotted. Russian historians are even keener to claim that from the outset there existed a plan of campaign borrowed from the Scythians which involved luring Napoleon into the heart of Russia, and some writers attribute this plan to Pfuel, some to an unknown Frenchman, some to Toll, while others attribute it to the Emperor Alexander himself, on the basis of notes, draft schemes and letters containing real hints at this course of action. But all these hints that what eventually happened was foreseen on both sides, the French and the Russian, are put forward now only because they have been justified by subsequent events. If the events had not occurred these h
ints would have been forgotten like the thousands, nay millions, of other contradictory hints and speculative ideas prevalent at the time that turned out to be wrong and were soon forgotten. The outcome of any event is always accompanied by such a range of speculative ideas about its cause that irrespective of the outcome there will always be somebody who can say, 'Look, I told you that's how it would turn out,' conveniently forgetting the vast number of other speculative ideas, many of which predicted the exact opposite.
Clearly, any suggestions that Napoleon was aware of the danger of extending his line, and that the Russians had a plan to lure the enemy into the heart of their country, fall into to this category, and only the most biased of historians could attribute any such thoughts to Napoleon and his marshals, or any such plans to the Russian generals. Speculative ideas like these fly in the face of the facts. From the moment of the invasion and during the whole course of the war, far from attempting to lure the French into the heart of Russia, the Russians did everything they could to stop them in their tracks; and Napoleon, far from worrying about extending his line, celebrated every step forward as a triumph, and did not seek opportunities to engage the foe with anything like the same eagerness as he had done in his previous campaigns.
At the outbreak of war our armies were cut off from each other and the only aim we had in mind was to unite them, though if our plan was to retreat and lure the enemy into the heart of the country, there would have been no advantage in bringing them together. The Emperor was out with the army to boost morale by defending every inch of Russian soil, not with some idea of retreat. Pfuel's huge camp at Drissa meant: thus far and no further. The Tsar called the commander-in-chief to account for every retreating step. The Emperor could never have anticipated the enemy's taking of Smolensk let alone the burning of Moscow, and when the armies had been reunited the Tsar was furious to learn that Smolensk had been taken and burnt without a pitched battle being fought outside its walls. This was the Tsar's attitude, but the Russian generals and the Russian people as a whole were even more incensed at the very idea of our men retreating into the heartland.
Napoleon split our armies and moved straight on, deep into the country, spurning several chances to force an engagement. By August he was in Smolensk and his only thought was to keep on going even though, as we can now see, marching forward spelt disaster.
The facts are clear: Napoleon foresaw no danger in pressing on to Moscow, and neither Alexander nor his generals had the slightest thought of luring Napoleon on - they thought the very opposite. Napoleon was drawn on into Russia not by a preconceived plan - no one dreamt of any such possibility - but by some complex interplay of desires, motivation and machinations on the part of the warring contenders, who had no idea of how things would turn out and what would be Russia's sole salvation. The whole thing was a fluke. Our armies were split up early on. We tried to bring them together, with every intention of joining battle and stopping the enemy's advance, but, for all these attempts at unification, while managing to avoid battle with a far stronger enemy, we were forced into retreat at a sharp angle, thus drawing the French along with us to Smolensk. But there is more to it than that. We were retreating at a sharp angle not just because the French were moving in between the two armies; the angle was made sharper and we retreated further because Barclay de Tolly, an unpopular German, was loathed by Bagration, who was due to come under his command, and Bagration employed every delaying tactic in the book with the second army to avoid joining up with him only to hand over control. He delayed unification for as long as he could, even though unification was the main aim of everyone in authority, because he thought that marching his men would expose them to danger, and it would be best for him to edge to the left, southwards, harassing the enemy's flank and rear and building up his army from Ukraine. But it seems likely that his real reason for thinking along these lines was to avoid placing himself under the command of Barclay, the hated German who was his junior in rank.
The Emperor was out with the army to boost morale but his presence there, his vacillation and the vast numbers of counsellors and plans available rendered the first army inactive, so it had to retreat.
The camp at Drissa was where they proposed to draw the line, but up rose Paulucci, with his eye on the commander-in-chief's job, and his tireless efforts finally prevailed on Alexander, with the result that Pfuel's entire scheme was abandoned and the whole thing was handed over to Barclay. But since Barclay failed to inspire complete confidence, limitations were placed on his power. The armies were split up, there was no unity of command and Barclay remained unpopular. But this mess arising from all the divisiveness and the unpopularity of the German commander-in-chief led to two things: on the one hand, vacillation and a reluctance to stand and fight, which could not have been avoided if the armies had been united and led by anyone but Barclay, and on the other hand, rising impatience with the Germans and a surge of patriotism.
At long last the Tsar withdrew from the army, on the pretext - the only convenient one available - of boosting morale in the two capitals in order to guarantee nationwide support for the war. And the Emperor's visit to Moscow did succeed in trebling the Russian military strength. The Tsar had left the army so as not to cramp the style of the overall commander-in-chief, in the hope that more decisive action could be taken. But no, army command became even more confused and enfeebled. Bennigsen and the Tsarevich stayed on with a swarm of adjutants-general, to keep an eye on the commander-in-chief and urge him on to greater activity, but Barclay, more constrained than ever with all these 'eyes of the Tsar' on him, became increasingly wary of decisive action and ever more reluctant to fight.
Barclay insisted on caution. The Tsarevich hinted at treachery and demanded a general engagement. Lyubomirsky, Bronnitsky, Wlocki1 and others of that ilk raised such a hue and cry that Barclay got rid of the Polish generals on the pretext of sending some documents to the Tsar in Petersburg, and from now on it was open war with Bennigsen and the Tsarevich.
Down in Smolensk, despite Bagration's best efforts to the contrary, the armies had come together at last.
Bagration drove up in his carriage to the house occupied by Barclay. Donning his sash, Barclay came out to welcome his superior officer and present his report. Bagration, not to be outdone when it came to displays of magnanimity, ignored his own higher rank and placed himself under Barclay's command, though in doing so he agreed with him less than ever. He still reported directly to the Tsar, as he had been ordered to do. In a letter to Arakcheyev he wrote: My sovereign's will is supreme, but I can do nothing with this 'minister' [Barclay]. For heaven's sake send me somewhere else if only to command a regiment. I cannot stay here. Headquarters is swarming with Germans, so no Russian can live here, and nothing makes any sense. I used to think I was serving my sovereign and my country, but as things have turned out I am serving Barclay. To be quite candid, I don't like it.
Relations between the two commanders were further poisoned by the swarm of Bronnitskys, Wintzengerodes, and their like, so there was now less unity than ever. Preparations were made to attack the French outside Smolensk. A general was sent to take stock of the situation. This general, detesting Barclay, went to see a friend of his, a corps commander, spent a day with him and came back to condemn point by point a proposed battlefield that he hadn't even seen.
In the midst of these arguments and all this intrigue over a proposed battlefield, while we were looking round frantically for the enemy, having somehow lost his location, the French happened upon Neverovsky's division and soon found themselves at the very walls of Smolensk.
We were surprised into sudden action at Smolensk to save our lines of communication. Battle was joined, with thousands of deaths on both sides.
Contrary to the wishes of the Tsar and all his people Smolensk was abandoned. But Smolensk was set on fire by its own inhabitants, who had been let down by their governor, and these ruined people set an example for the rest of Russia to follow by transferring themselves to Mos
cow obsessed with all that they had lost and seething with hatred of the enemy. On went Napoleon, with us in retreat, and this was how the one thing that would destroy Napoleon came about.
CHAPTER 2
The day after his son's departure Prince Nikolay Bolkonsky sent for Princess Marya.
'Well, I hope you're satisfied,' he said to her. 'Causing a row between me and my son! Does that satisfy you? Just what you wanted! I hope you're satisfied . . . It hurts me, hurts me a lot. I'm old and weak, but you've got what you wanted. Well, that's it. I don't blame you for gloating . . .' And after that Princess Marya didn't see her father again for a week. He was ill and never came out of his study.
Princess Marya was surprised to see that during this illness the old prince even excluded Mademoiselle Bourienne from his room. Tikhon was the only person who attended him.
A week later the prince re-emerged and resumed his old way of life, getting closely involved in the new buildings and the gardens, and severing relations with Mademoiselle Bourienne. His tone was frigid and he adopted a funny attitude to Princess Marya that seemed to say, 'Look, you made up stories about me, you lied to Prince Andrey about my relations with that Frenchwoman, and you caused a row between us. Well, now you can see - I can do without the pair of you, you and that Frenchwoman.'
Princess Marya spent half the day with little Nikolay, following his progress, teaching him Russian and music, and talking to Dessalles. The rest of the day she spent in her rooms, reading or passing the time with her old nurse and her 'Servants of God', who came up the back stairs to see her now and then.
Princess Marya's attitude to the war was that of all women. She feared for her brother who was out there fighting, and she was horrified at the unbelievable cruelty that led men to go out and kill each other. She could make nothing of this war, which seemed just like all the others. She could make nothing of it despite the efforts of Dessalles, her constant companion, who followed the war with a keen interest and did his best to put over his version of events, and her 'Servants of God', who had their own hair-raising way of reporting rumours among the peasantry about an invasion by the Antichrist, and even though Julie, now Princess Drubetskoy, had started writing again and was sending a stream of patriotic letters from Moscow. One of them read like a literal translation from the French: I am writing to you in Russian, my good friend, because I have a hatred for all the French people and equally for their language that I cannot support to hear spoken . . . In Moscow we are all excited through enthusiasm for our adored Emperor.