الفصل الفصل 176 · 第176章

Prince Andrew reached the general headquarters of the army at the end of

June. The first army, with which was the Emperor, occupied the fortified

camp at Drissa; the second army was retreating, trying to effect a

junction with the first one from which it was said to be cut off by

large French forces. Everyone was dissatisfied with the general course

of affairs in the Russian army, but no one anticipated any danger of

invasion of the Russian provinces, and no one thought the war would

extend farther than the western, the Polish, provinces.

Prince Andrew found Barclay de Tolly, to whom he had been assigned, on

the bank of the Drissa. As there was not a single town or large

village in the vicinity of the camp, the immense number of generals and

courtiers accompanying the army were living in the best houses of the

villages on both sides of the river, over a radius of six miles. Barclay

de Tolly was quartered nearly three miles from the Emperor. He received

Bolkónski stiffly and coldly and told him in his foreign accent that he

would mention him to the Emperor for a decision as to his employment,

but asked him meanwhile to remain on his staff. Anatole Kurágin, whom

Prince Andrew had hoped to find with the army, was not there. He had

gone to Petersburg, but Prince Andrew was glad to hear this. His mind

was occupied by the interests of the center that was conducting

a gigantic war, and he was glad to be free for a while from the

distraction caused by the thought of Kurágin. During the first four

days, while no duties were required of him, Prince Andrew rode round the

whole fortified camp and, by the aid of his own knowledge and by

talks with experts, tried to form a definite opinion about it. But the

question whether the camp was advantageous or disadvantageous remained

for him undecided. Already from his military experience and what he had

seen in the Austrian campaign, he had come to the conclusion that in

war the most deeply considered plans have no significance and that all

depends on the way unexpected movements of the enemy—that cannot be

foreseen—are met, and on how and by whom the whole matter is handled.

To clear up this last point for himself, Prince Andrew, utilizing his

position and acquaintances, tried to fathom the character of the control

of the army and of the men and parties engaged in it, and he deduced for

himself the following of the state of affairs.

While the Emperor had still been at Vílna, the forces had been divided

into three armies. First, the army under Barclay de Tolly, secondly, the

army under Bagratión, and thirdly, the one commanded by Tormásov. The

Emperor was with the first army, but not as commander in chief. In the

orders issued it was stated, not that the Emperor would take command,

but only that he would be with the army. The Emperor, moreover, had

with him not a commander in chief’s staff but the imperial headquarters

staff. In attendance on him was the head of the imperial staff,

Quartermaster General Prince Volkónski, as well as generals, imperial

aides-de-camp, diplomatic officials, and a large number of foreigners,

but not the army staff. Besides these, there were in attendance on the

Emperor without any definite appointments: Arakchéev, the ex-Minister

of War; Count Bennigsen, the senior general in rank; the Grand Duke

Tsarévich Constantine Pávlovich; Count Rumyántsev, the Chancellor;

Stein, a former Prussian minister; Armfeldt, a Swedish general; Pfuel,

the chief author of the plan of campaign; Paulucci, an adjutant general

and Sardinian émigré; Wolzogen—and many others. Though these men had no

military appointment in the army, their position gave them influence,

and often a corps commander, or even the commander in chief, did not

know in what capacity he was questioned by Bennigsen, the Grand Duke,

Arakchéev, or Prince Volkónski, or was given this or that advice and did

not know whether a certain order received in the form of advice emanated

from the man who gave it or from the Emperor and whether it had to be

executed or not. But this was only the external condition; the essential

significance of the presence of the Emperor and of all these people,

from a courtier’s point of view (and in an Emperor’s vicinity all became

courtiers), was clear to everyone. It was this: the Emperor did not

assume the title of commander in chief, but disposed of all the armies;

the men around him were his assistants. Arakchéev was a faithful

custodian to enforce order and acted as the sovereign’s bodyguard.

Bennigsen was a landlord in the Vílna province who appeared to be doing

the honors of the district, but was in reality a good general, useful

as an adviser and ready at hand to replace Barclay. The Grand Duke

was there because it suited him to be. The ex-Minister Stein was there

because his advice was useful and the Emperor Alexander held him in high

esteem personally. Armfeldt virulently hated Napoleon and was a general

full of self-confidence, a quality that always influenced Alexander.

Paulucci was there because he was bold and decided in speech. The

adjutants general were there because they always accompanied the

Emperor, and lastly and chiefly Pfuel was there because he had drawn up

the plan of campaign against Napoleon and, having induced Alexander to

believe in the efficacy of that plan, was directing the whole business

of the war. With Pfuel was Wolzogen, who expressed Pfuel’s thoughts in

a more comprehensible way than Pfuel himself (who was a harsh, bookish

theorist, self-confident to the point of despising everyone else) was

able to do.

Besides these Russians and foreigners who propounded new and unexpected

ideas every day—especially the foreigners, who did so with a boldness

characteristic of people employed in a country not their own—there were

many secondary personages accompanying the army because their principals

were there.

Among the opinions and voices in this immense, restless, brilliant,

and proud sphere, Prince Andrew noticed the following sharply defined

subdivisions of tendencies and parties:

The first party consisted of Pfuel and his adherents—military theorists

who believed in a science of war with immutable laws—laws of oblique

movements, outflankings, and so forth. Pfuel and his adherents demanded

a retirement into the depths of the country in accordance with precise

laws defined by a pseudo-theory of war, and they saw only barbarism,

ignorance, or evil intention in every deviation from that theory. To

this party belonged the foreign nobles, Wolzogen, Wintzingerode, and

others, chiefly Germans.

The second party was directly opposed to the first; one extreme, as

always happens, was met by representatives of the other. The members of

this party were those who had demanded an advance from Vílna into Poland

and freedom from all prearranged plans. Besides being advocates of bold

action, this section also represented nationalism, which made them still

more one-sided in the dispute. They were Russians: Bagratión, Ermólov

(who was beginning to come to the front), and others. At that time a

famous joke of Ermólov’s was being circulated, that as a great favor he

had petitioned the Emperor to make him a German. The men of that party,

remembering Suvórov, said that what one had to do was not to reason,

or stick pins into maps, but to fight, beat the enemy, keep him out of

Russia, and not let the army get discouraged.

To the third party—in which the Emperor had most confidence—belonged the

courtiers who tried to arrange compromises between the other two. The

members of this party, chiefly civilians and to whom Arakchéev belonged,

thought and said what men who have no convictions but wish to seem to

have some generally say. They said that undoubtedly war, particularly

against such a genius as Bonaparte (they called him Bonaparte now),

needs most deeply devised plans and profound scientific knowledge and

in that respect Pfuel was a genius, but at the same time it had to be

acknowledged that the theorists are often one-sided, and therefore one

should not trust them absolutely, but should also listen to what Pfuel’s

opponents and practical men of experience in warfare had to say, and

then choose a middle course. They insisted on the retention of the camp

at Drissa, according to Pfuel’s plan, but on changing the movements of

the other armies. Though, by this course, neither one aim nor the other

could be attained, yet it seemed best to the adherents of this third

party.

Of a fourth opinion the most conspicuous representative was the

Tsarévich, who could not forget his disillusionment at Austerlitz, where

he had ridden out at the head of the Guards, in his casque and cavalry

uniform as to a review, expecting to crush the French gallantly; but

unexpectedly finding himself in the front line had narrowly escaped amid

the general confusion. The men of this party had both the quality

and the defect of frankness in their opinions. They feared Napoleon,

recognized his strength and their own weakness, and frankly said so.

They said: “Nothing but sorrow, shame, and ruin will come of all this!

We have abandoned Vílna and Vítebsk and shall abandon Drissa. The only

reasonable thing left to do is to conclude peace as soon as possible,

before we are turned out of Petersburg.”

This view was very general in the upper army circles and found support

also in Petersburg and from the chancellor, Rumyántsev, who, for other

reasons of state, was in favor of peace.

The fifth party consisted of those who were adherents of Barclay de

Tolly, not so much as a man but as minister of war and commander in

chief. “Be he what he may” (they always began like that), “he is an

honest, practical man and we have nobody better. Give him real power,

for war cannot be conducted successfully without unity of command, and

he will show what he can do, as he did in Finland. If our army is well

organized and strong and has withdrawn to Drissa without suffering

any defeats, we owe this entirely to Barclay. If Barclay is now to

be superseded by Bennigsen all will be lost, for Bennigsen showed his

incapacity already in 1807.”

The sixth party, the Bennigsenites, said, on the contrary, that at any

rate there was no one more active and experienced than Bennigsen: “and

twist about as you may, you will have to come to Bennigsen eventually.

Let the others make mistakes now!” said they, arguing that our

retirement to Drissa was a most shameful reverse and an unbroken series

of blunders. “The more mistakes that are made the better. It will at any

rate be understood all the sooner that things cannot go on like this.

What is wanted is not some Barclay or other, but a man like Bennigsen,

who made his mark in 1807, and to whom Napoleon himself did justice—a

man whose authority would be willingly recognized, and Bennigsen is the

only such man.”

The seventh party consisted of the sort of people who are always to

be found, especially around young sovereigns, and of whom there were

particularly many round Alexander—generals and imperial aides-de-camp

passionately devoted to the Emperor, not merely as a monarch but as a

man, adoring him sincerely and disinterestedly, as Rostóv had done

in 1805, and who saw in him not only all the virtues but all human

capabilities as well. These men, though enchanted with the sovereign

for refusing the command of the army, yet blamed him for such excessive

modesty, and only desired and insisted that their adored sovereign

should abandon his diffidence and openly announce that he would place

himself at the head of the army, gather round him a commander in chief’s

staff, and, consulting experienced theoreticians and practical men where

necessary, would himself lead the troops, whose spirits would thereby be

raised to the highest pitch.

The eighth and largest group, which in its enormous numbers was to the

others as ninety-nine to one, consisted of men who desired neither

peace nor war, neither an advance nor a defensive camp at the Drissa

or anywhere else, neither Barclay nor the Emperor, neither Pfuel nor

Bennigsen, but only the one most essential thing—as much advantage

and pleasure for themselves as possible. In the troubled waters of

conflicting and intersecting intrigues that eddied about the Emperor’s

headquarters, it was possible to succeed in many ways unthinkable at

other times. A man who simply wished to retain his lucrative post would

today agree with Pfuel, tomorrow with his opponent, and the day after,

merely to avoid responsibility or to please the Emperor, would declare

that he had no opinion at all on the matter. Another who wished to

gain some advantage would attract the Emperor’s attention by loudly

advocating the very thing the Emperor had hinted at the day before,

and would dispute and shout at the council, beating his breast and

challenging those who did not agree with him to duels, thereby proving

that he was prepared to sacrifice himself for the common good. A third,

in the absence of opponents, between two councils would simply solicit

a special gratuity for his faithful services, well knowing that at that

moment people would be too busy to refuse him. A fourth while seemingly

overwhelmed with work would often come accidentally under the Emperor’s

eye. A fifth, to achieve his long-cherished aim of dining with the

Emperor, would stubbornly insist on the correctness or falsity of some

newly emerging opinion and for this object would produce arguments more

or less forcible and correct.

All the men of this party were fishing for rubles, decorations, and

promotions, and in this pursuit watched only the weathercock of imperial

favor, and directly they noticed it turning in any direction, this whole

drone population of the army began blowing hard that way, so that it

was all the harder for the Emperor to turn it elsewhere. Amid the

uncertainties of the position, with the menace of serious danger giving

a peculiarly threatening character to everything, amid this vortex of

intrigue, egotism, conflict of views and feelings, and the diversity

of race among these people—this eighth and largest party of those

preoccupied with personal interests imparted great confusion and

obscurity to the common task. Whatever question arose, a swarm of these

drones, without having finished their buzzing on a previous theme, flew

over to the new one and by their hum drowned and obscured the voices of

those who were disputing honestly.

From among all these parties, just at the time Prince Andrew reached

the army, another, a ninth party, was being formed and was beginning

to raise its voice. This was the party of the elders, reasonable men

experienced and capable in state affairs, who, without sharing any of

those conflicting opinions, were able to take a detached view of what

was going on at the staff at headquarters and to consider means of

escape from this muddle, indecision, intricacy, and weakness.

The men of this party said and thought that what was wrong resulted

chiefly from the Emperor’s presence in the army with his military court

and from the consequent presence there of an indefinite, conditional,

and unsteady fluctuation of relations, which is in place at court but

harmful in an army; that a sovereign should reign but not command the

army, and that the only way out of the position would be for the Emperor

and his court to leave the army; that the mere presence of the Emperor

paralyzed the action of fifty thousand men required to secure his

personal safety, and that the worst commander in chief, if independent,

would be better than the very best one trammeled by the presence and

authority of the monarch.

Just at the time Prince Andrew was living unoccupied at Drissa,

Shishkóv, the Secretary of State and one of the chief representatives of

this party, wrote a letter to the Emperor which Arakchéev and Balashëv

agreed to sign. In this letter, availing himself of permission given him

by the Emperor to discuss the general course of affairs, he respectfully

suggested—on the plea that it was necessary for the sovereign to arouse

a warlike spirit in the people of the capital—that the Emperor should

leave the army.

That arousing of the people by their sovereign and his call to them to

defend their country—the very incitement which was the chief cause of

Russia’s triumph in so far as it was produced by the Tsar’s personal

presence in Moscow—was suggested to the Emperor, and accepted by him, as

a pretext for quitting the army.