o longer borne by the waves from one shore to the other; now they stayed in one place and seemed to be going round in little eddies. The historical figures that had led armies and reflected the movement of the masses by waging war, marching men about and going into battle now reflected that same seething movement in political and diplomatic stratagems, statutes and treaties.
This kind of activity on the part of historical figures is called 'reactive' by historians.
In describing such activity the historians censure the historical figures most severely, accusing them of bringing about what they call 'reaction'. They sit in judgement on all the famous people of the age, from Alexander and Napoleon to Madame de Stael, Photius, Schelling, Fichte, Chateaubriand2 and the rest, and find them innocent or guilty of promoting 'progress' or 'reaction'.
By their account Russia was a centre of reaction at that time, and Alexander I bears most of the blame for this - the same Alexander who, by their account too, had been mainly responsible for liberal initiatives taken early in his reign, and for the saving of Russia.
In modern Russian letters there is no one, from schoolboy to learned historian, who is not ready to throw his little stone at Alexander for the bad things he did during the latter period of his reign.
'He should have done this or that. On this occasion he did well; on that occasion he did badly. He behaved splendidly at the beginning of his reign and throughout 1812, but he performed badly when he gave Poland a constitution,3 set up the Holy Alliance,4 gave authority to Arakcheyev, encouraged first Golitsyn5 with all his mysticism, and then Shishkov6 and Photius. He was wrong to go out to the front during the war, wrong to disband the Semyonovsky regiment,7 and so on.'
It would take a dozen pages or more to list all the charges levelled against him by the historians, all of them working on the safe assumption that they have a unique knowledge of what is good for humanity.
What do these charges amount to?
Is it not true that the actions of Alexander I that are applauded by historians, the liberal initiatives taken early in his reign, his struggle against Napoleon, his intransigence in 1812, and the campaign of 1813, flow from the same sources - the blood-line, upbringing and life experience that made Alexander's personality what it was - that produced the actions for which he is censured by historians, such as the Holy Alliance, the restoration of Poland, the reaction that set in during the 1820s?
What is the essence of these charges?
Alexander I is charged as follows: he, a figure of history standing on the highest pinnacle of human power, with all the blinding light of history focused upon him, a man who was prey to the strongest blandishments of intrigue, trickery, flattery and self-delusion inextricably linked with power, someone who at all stages of his life felt a sense of personal responsibility for everything that was going on all over Europe, a living personality as opposed to a creature of fiction, subject like everybody else to his own practices, passions and impulses towards goodness, beauty and truth - this man is charged not with lacking virtue fifty years ago (the historians have no complaints on this score), but with a failure to share the same views concerning the good of humanity as those held today by some professor who has spent all his adult life studying, i.e. reading books, listening to lectures and scribbling notes from these books and lectures in a note-book.
But even if we assume that Alexander I, fifty years ago,8 was mistaken in his view of what was good for the various peoples, we must also assume that the historian censuring Alexander will with the passage of time also prove to be wrong in his view of what constitutes the good of humanity. Such a claim seems normal and inescapable when we look at the course of history and note that with each passing year and each new writer the view of what constitutes the good of humanity tends to change, and something that seemed good ten years ago now seems bad, and vice versa. To make matters worse, we discover that in history there are sometimes contemporaries who hold opposing views about what is good and what is bad. The granting of a constitution to Poland and the Holy Alliance are seen by some people as redounding to Alexander's credit, by others to his shame.
When discussing the actions of Alexander and Napoleon we cannot claim them as good or bad, because we cannot say what makes them good or bad. If their actions happen not to appeal to someone, the lack of appeal comes from nothing more than a disparity between the activities themselves and a narrow view of what constitutes the good of humanity. Even if I take a positive view of the survival of my father's house in Moscow in 1812, or the glory of the Russian army, or the success of Petersburg University and other universities, or the independence of Poland, or the supremacy of Russia, or the balance of power in Europe, or a particular development in European enlightenment that goes by the name of progress, I am bound to admit that the activity of any historical figure was aimed at more than these things, at more generalized goals beyond my comprehension.
But let us suppose that 'science' has the power of reconciling all contradictions, and can judge historical figures and events according to a fixed standard of goodness and badness.
Let us suppose that Alexander could have done everything differently. Let us assume that he could have been guided by those who now censure him and confidently claim to know the ultimate goal of the movement of humanity, and could have followed the programme of nationalism, freedom, equality and progress (these seem to cover the ground) that today's critics would have selected for him. Let us suppose that this programme, once found to be feasible, might have been feasible and actually implemented by Alexander. Then what would have happened to everything that was done by those who opposed the policies of the government of the day and indulged in activities that were, according to the same historians, good and beneficial? There would have been no such activities, there would have been no life, there would have been nothing.
Once you allow that human life is subject to reason you extinguish any possibility of life.
CHAPTER 2
If we assume, as historians do, that great men lead humanity towards the achievement of certain goals, such as the supremacy of Russia or France, the balance of power in Europe, the dissemination of ideas stemming from the Revolution, general progress, or anything you fancy, it becomes impossible to explain the phenomena of history without having recourse to concepts like chance and genius.
If the object of the European wars at the beginning of this century had been the aggrandizement of Russia, this object could have been attained without any of the preceding wars, and without the need for invasion. If the object had been the aggrandizement of France, this object might have been attained without the need for Revolution or empire. If the object had been the dissemination of ideas, the printing of books would have attained that object much more efficiently than soldiers. If the object had been the advancement of civilization, we can safely assume there are other more expedient ways of diffusing civilized values than slaughtering men and destroying their property.
So why did things happen this way and not otherwise? Because this is how they happened. 'Chance set up the situation; genius exploited it,' history tells us.
But what is chance? What is genius?
The words chance and genius denote nothing that actually exists, and therefore they cannot be defined. All they denote is a degree of attainment in the understanding of phenomena. I don't know why a certain phenomenon occurs, I believe I never can know why, so I end up not wanting to know and I talk about chance. I observe a force producing an effect out of all proportion to the general run of human quality; I don't understand why this happens, so I talk about genius.
To a flock of sheep the sheep who gets driven into a special pen by the shepherd every evening for a good feed, and becomes twice as fat as the rest, must seem like a genius. And the fact that every evening this sheep doesn't come into the common fold, but goes into a special pen where there are lots of oats, and this same sheep fattens up nicely and then gets killed for mutton must look like a curious combination of genius and a series of unusual coincidences.
But all the sheep have to do is drop the assumption that everything that happens to them comes about solely for the furtherance of their sheepish interests; once they assume that the events occurring to them might have aims beyond their comprehension they will immediately perceive a unity and coherence in what is happening to the sheep that is being fattened up. Even if they will never quite understand why it is being fattened up, at least they will know that chance played no part in anything that happened to it, and they will have no need for concepts like chance or genius.
Only by renouncing any claim to knowledge of an immediate, intelligible purpose, and acknowledging the ultimate aim to be beyond our comprehension, shall we see any coherence or expediency in the lives of historical persons. The reason behind the effect that they produce, which does not accord with the general run of human capabilities, will then be revealed to us, and we shall have no further need for words like chance or genius.
All we have to do is admit that far from knowing the purpose of the convulsions that shook the European nations we know only the facts - a series of murders committed first in France, then in Italy, then in Africa, Prussia, Austria, Spain and Russia - and also that movements from west to east and from east to west constitute the essence and the aim of those events, and we shall not need to see anything very exceptional like genius in the character of Napoleon or Alexander, indeed we shall be unable to conceive of these figures as being at all different from anybody else. And not only shall we be able to dispense with chance as an explanation of the sequence of trivial events that made those men what they were, it will be clear to us that all these trivialities were inevitable.
Once we have renounced all knowledge of an ultimate purpose, we shall clearly perceive that just as we cannot invent for any plant a more characteristic blossom or seed than the ones it produces itself, so we cannot imagine any two persons, with all their past behind them, better attuned to their calling, even down to the smallest details, than Napoleon and Alexander.
CHAPTER 3
The essential feature underlying the events that occurred in Europe at the beginning of the present century is the mass movement of European peoples for military purposes first from west to east, then from east to west. The movement that started it all was from west to east. For the peoples of the west to carry out their military advance on Moscow, which they did complete, it was necessary for them to (1) come together in a military grouping large enough to be able to survive conflict with the military group of the east, (2) give up all their long-established traditions and customs, and (3) ensure that their military incursion was headed by a man capable of justifying, in his own name and in theirs, all the duplicity, robbery and murder that ensued.
So, beginning with the French Revolution, an old group falls apart because it is not large enough, old customs and traditions are done away with, a new group comes together bit by bit with different proportions, different customs and different traditions, and a man is groomed to stand at the head of the coming movement and assume full responsibility for what has to be done.
Along comes a man with no convictions, no customs, no traditions, no name, not even a Frenchman, and he works his way - seemingly by a series of curious chances - through the ferment of party conflict in France, and ends up in a prominent position without attaching himself to any particular party.
He finds himself in charge of the army, thanks to the incompetence of his colleagues, the spinelessness of his piffling opponents and his own bare-faced duplicity, bravura and narrow-minded over-confidence. The brilliance of the Italian soldiers, the reluctance of his opponents to take up arms, together with his boyish cockiness and over-confidence, win him military glory. Everywhere he is assisted by a string of what you might call chance contingencies. When he falls into disfavour with the French government this soon becomes an advantage. Every effort of his to change the course of his destiny comes to nothing; he is rejected for service in Russia, and he cannot get himself posted to Turkey.9
During the wars in Italy he finds himself several times staring death in the face, only to be saved on every occasion by some bolt from the blue. The Russian armies, the troops really capable of shattering his prestige, keep getting delayed by diplomacy and stay out of Europe while he is still there.10
On his return from Italy he finds the government in Paris in such a process of disintegration that all men entering it are being steadily wiped out and destroyed. But an escape route from this dangerous situation offers itself in the form of a pointless, totally unjustified expedition to Africa. Once again he is favoured by chance events. Impregnable Malta surrenders without a shot being fired; his most reckless schemes are now being crowned with success. The enemy navy, which later on will never miss a single rowing-boat, now lets a whole army through. In Africa a series of atrocities is perpetrated against the virtually defenceless inhabitants. Meanwhile the men perpetrating these atrocities, and especially their leader, persuade themselves that this is wonderful, this is glory, something worthy of Julius Caesar and Alexander the Great, a good thing all round.
This ideal of glory and greatness - stemming from a belief that one's every action is beyond reproach, and every crime a proud achievement invested with a supernatural significance beyond all understanding - this ideal, which would prove to be the guiding principle of this man and those around him, is deployed on a massive scale in Africa. Whatever he does comes off. The plague doesn't touch him. The callous slaughtering of his prisoners is not held against him. His childishly impetuous, unwarranted and ignoble departure from Africa, leaving behind comrades in distress, redounds to his credit, and again the enemy navy lets him slip through their fingers - twice. Dizzy with the success of his crimes and ready for his new role, he arrives in Paris without any plan in mind just as the disintegration of the Republican government, which might have brought him down a year earlier, completes its course; his arrival there as a man untainted by party loyalty serves only to raise his standing.
He has no sort of plan, he is scared of his own shadow, but all parties grab at him and solicit his support.
He alone - with his ideal of glory and greatness developed in Italy and Egypt, with his maniacal self-adulation, outrageous criminality and bare-faced duplicity - he alone can justify what has to be done.
He is needed to fill the place that awaits him, and so it is that, almost independently of his own will, and in spite of his dithering, his failure to plan ahead and his proneness to error, he finds himself drawn into a conspiracy aimed at the seizure of power, and the conspiracy comes off.
He is dragged before the legislature. Thinking all is lost, he panics and tries to run away, pretends to faint and says the most outrageous things that ought to have spelt ruin for him. But the once proud and discerning rulers of France, now under the impression that their day is done, turn out to be more confused than he is, and they say anything but what needs to be said in order to maintain their own power and see him off.
Chance contingencies, millions of them, bring him to power, and all men now seem to collude in asserting his authority. It is chance that determines the personalities of those who rule France at this time, and now cringe before him; chance that determines the personality of Paul I in Russia, who recognizes his authority; chance that sets up a plot against him that enhances his power instead of bringing him down. Chance delivers the Duc d'Enghien into his hands and somehow impels him to kill him and thereby persuades the mob by the strongest of all arguments that because he has the power he also has the right. Chance determines that although he strains every fibre to launch an expedition against England, which quite clearly would have led to his downfall, he never carries out this intention; instead he falls upon Mack with the Austrians, who give in without a fight. Chance and genius bring him victory at Austerlitz, and chance determines that all men, not only the French but every country in Europe except England, which will have no involvement in the events about to unfold, set aside their former horror and repugnance at his criminality and now legitimize the power he has acquired, the title he has bestowed on himself and his ideal concept of greatness and glory, which appeals to everybody as something splendidly reasonable.
As if to flex their muscles and prepare for the great movement ahead of them, the forces of the west lunge eastward on several occasions - in 1805, 1806, 1807 and 1809 - building up strength and adding to their numbers. In 1811 a group of men formed in France joins forces with an enormous group from the peoples of Central Europe. The growth in numbers is matched by an increase in the force of justification on the part of the man at the head of the movement. Throughout the ten-year preparatory period preceding the great movement this man has been hobnobbing with all the crowned heads of Europe. The discredited rulers of the world have no sensible concept or rational ideal with which to challenge the mindless Napoleonic ideal of glory and greatness. They fall over each other to demonstrate their lack of substance. The King of Prussia sends his wife to suck up to the great man; the Emperor of Austria considers it a mark of esteem that this man should take a daughter of the Kaisers to his bed. The Pope, the guardian of all that the nations hold sacred, uses religion to enhance the great man's reputation. It is not a question of Napoleon preparing himself for his new part; everything around him encourages him to assume personal responsibility for what is being done and is about to be done. There is no action, no atrocity, no little bit of trickery he could indulge in without it being immediately represented on the lips of those about him as a great deed. The best tribute the Germans can dream up for him is the celebration of Jena and Auerstadt. Here, not only is he a great man, but greatness devolves also to his ancestors, brothers, stepsons and brothers-in-law. Everything conspires to deprive him of the last scintilla of reason, and prepare him for his terrible role. Once he is ready, so are his forces.
The invading army flows east and reaches its ultimate goal: Moscow. The