الفصل الفصل 191 · 第191章

Napoleon began the war with Russia because he could not resist going

to Dresden, could not help having his head turned by the homage he

received, could not help donning a Polish uniform and yielding to the

stimulating influence of a June morning, and could not refrain from

bursts of anger in the presence of Kurákin and then of Balashëv.

Alexander refused negotiations because he felt himself to be personally

insulted. Barclay de Tolly tried to command the army in the best

way, because he wished to fulfill his duty and earn fame as a great

commander. Rostóv charged the French because he could not restrain

his wish for a gallop across a level field; and in the same way the

innumerable people who took part in the war acted in accord with their

personal characteristics, habits, circumstances, and aims. They were

moved by fear or vanity, rejoiced or were indignant, reasoned, imagining

that they knew what they were doing and did it of their own free will,

but they all were involuntary tools of history, carrying on a work

concealed from them but comprehensible to us. Such is the inevitable

fate of men of action, and the higher they stand in the social hierarchy

the less are they free.

The actors of 1812 have long since left the stage, their personal

interests have vanished leaving no trace, and nothing remains of that

time but its historic results.

Providence compelled all these men, striving to attain personal aims, to

further the accomplishment of a stupendous result no one of them at all

expected—neither Napoleon, nor Alexander, nor still less any of those

who did the actual fighting.

The cause of the destruction of the French army in 1812 is clear to us

now. No one will deny that that cause was, on the one hand, its advance

into the heart of Russia late in the season without any preparation for

a winter campaign and, on the other, the character given to the war

by the burning of Russian towns and the hatred of the foe this aroused

among the Russian people. But no one at the time foresaw (what now seems

so evident) that this was the only way an army of eight hundred thousand

men—the best in the world and led by the best general—could be destroyed

in conflict with a raw army of half its numerical strength, and led by

inexperienced commanders as the Russian army was. Not only did no one

see this, but on the Russian side every effort was made to hinder the

only thing that could save Russia, while on the French side, despite

Napoleon’s experience and so-called military genius, every effort was

directed to pushing on to Moscow at the end of the summer, that is, to

doing the very thing that was bound to lead to destruction.

In historical works on the year 1812 French writers are very fond of

saying that Napoleon felt the danger of extending his line, that he

sought a battle and that his marshals advised him to stop at Smolénsk,

and of making similar statements to show that the danger of the campaign

was even then understood. Russian authors are still fonder of telling

us that from the commencement of the campaign a Scythian war plan was

adopted to lure Napoleon into the depths of Russia, and this plan some

of them attribute to Pfuel, others to a certain Frenchman, others to

Toll, and others again to Alexander himself—pointing to notes, projects,

and letters which contain hints of such a line of action. But all these

hints at what happened, both from the French side and the Russian, are

advanced only because they fit in with the event. Had that event not

occurred these hints would have been forgotten, as we have forgotten the

thousands and millions of hints and expectations to the contrary

which were current then but have now been forgotten because the event

falsified them. There are always so many conjectures as to the issue of

any event that however it may end there will always be people to say:

“I said then that it would be so,” quite forgetting that amid their

innumerable conjectures many were to quite the contrary effect.

Conjectures as to Napoleon’s awareness of the danger of extending his

line, and (on the Russian side) as to luring the enemy into the depths

of Russia, are evidently of that kind, and only by much straining can

historians attribute such conceptions to Napoleon and his marshals,

or such plans to the Russian commanders. All the facts are in flat

contradiction to such conjectures. During the whole period of the war

not only was there no wish on the Russian side to draw the French

into the heart of the country, but from their first entry into Russia

everything was done to stop them. And not only was Napoleon not afraid

to extend his line, but he welcomed every step forward as a triumph and

did not seek battle as eagerly as in former campaigns, but very lazily.

At the very beginning of the war our armies were divided, and our sole

aim was to unite them, though uniting the armies was no advantage if we

meant to retire and lure the enemy into the depths of the country. Our

Emperor joined the army to encourage it to defend every inch of Russian

soil and not to retreat. The enormous Drissa camp was formed on Pfuel’s

plan, and there was no intention of retiring farther. The Emperor

reproached the commanders in chief for every step they retired. He could

not bear the idea of letting the enemy even reach Smolénsk, still less

could he contemplate the burning of Moscow, and when our armies did

unite he was displeased that Smolénsk was abandoned and burned without a

general engagement having been fought under its walls.

So thought the Emperor, and the Russian commanders and people were still

more provoked at the thought that our forces were retreating into the

depths of the country.

Napoleon having cut our armies apart advanced far into the country and

missed several chances of forcing an engagement. In August he was at

Smolénsk and thought only of how to advance farther, though as we now

see that advance was evidently ruinous to him.

The facts clearly show that Napoleon did not foresee the danger of the

advance on Moscow, nor did Alexander and the Russian commanders then

think of luring Napoleon on, but quite the contrary. The luring of

Napoleon into the depths of the country was not the result of any plan,

for no one believed it to be possible; it resulted from a most complex

interplay of intrigues, aims, and wishes among those who took part in

the war and had no perception whatever of the inevitable, or of the one

way of saving Russia. Everything came about fortuitously. The armies

were divided at the commencement of the campaign. We tried to unite

them, with the evident intention of giving battle and checking the

enemy’s advance, and by this effort to unite them while avoiding battle

with a much stronger enemy, and necessarily withdrawing the armies at

an acute angle—we led the French on to Smolénsk. But we withdrew at an

acute angle not only because the French advanced between our two armies;

the angle became still more acute and we withdrew still farther, because

Barclay de Tolly was an unpopular foreigner disliked by Bagratión (who

would come under his command), and Bagratión—being in command of the

second army—tried to postpone joining up and coming under Barclay’s

command as long as he could. Bagratión was slow in effecting the

junction—though that was the chief aim of all at headquarters—because,

as he alleged, he exposed his army to danger on this march, and it was

best for him to retire more to the left and more to the south, worrying

the enemy from flank and rear and securing from the Ukraine recruits for

his army; and it looks as if he planned this in order not to come under

the command of the detested foreigner Barclay, whose rank was inferior

to his own.

The Emperor was with the army to encourage it, but his presence and

ignorance of what steps to take, and the enormous number of advisers and

plans, destroyed the first army’s energy and it retired.

The intention was to make a stand at the Drissa camp, but Paulucci,

aiming at becoming commander in chief, unexpectedly employed his energy

to influence Alexander, and Pfuel’s whole plan was abandoned and the

command entrusted to Barclay. But as Barclay did not inspire confidence

his power was limited. The armies were divided, there was no unity of

command, and Barclay was unpopular; but from this confusion, division,

and the unpopularity of the foreign commander in chief, there resulted

on the one hand indecision and the avoidance of a battle (which we could

not have refrained from had the armies been united and had someone else,

instead of Barclay, been in command) and on the other an ever-increasing

indignation against the foreigners and an increase in patriotic zeal.

At last the Emperor left the army, and as the most convenient and indeed

the only pretext for his departure it was decided that it was necessary

for him to inspire the people in the capitals and arouse the nation in

general to a patriotic war. And by this visit of the Emperor to Moscow

the strength of the Russian army was trebled.

He left in order not to obstruct the commander in chief’s undivided

control of the army, and hoping that more decisive action would then

be taken, but the command of the armies became still more confused and

enfeebled. Bennigsen, the Tsarévich, and a swarm of adjutants general

remained with the army to keep the commander in chief under observation

and arouse his energy, and Barclay, feeling less free than ever under

the observation of all these “eyes of the Emperor,” became still more

cautious of undertaking any decisive action and avoided giving battle.

Barclay stood for caution. The Tsarévich hinted at treachery and

demanded a general engagement. Lubomírski, Bronnítski, Wlocki, and the

others of that group stirred up so much trouble that Barclay, under

pretext of sending papers to the Emperor, dispatched these Polish

adjutants general to Petersburg and plunged into an open struggle with

Bennigsen and the Tsarévich.

At Smolénsk the armies at last reunited, much as Bagratión disliked it.

Bagratión drove up in a carriage to the house occupied by Barclay.

Barclay donned his sash and came out to meet and report to his senior

officer Bagratión.

Despite his seniority in rank Bagratión, in this contest of magnanimity,

took his orders from Barclay, but, having submitted, agreed with him

less than ever. By the Emperor’s orders Bagratión reported direct to

him. He wrote to Arakchéev, the Emperor’s confidant: “It must be as

my sovereign pleases, but I cannot work with the Minister (meaning

Barclay). For God’s sake send me somewhere else if only in command of

a regiment. I cannot stand it here. Headquarters are so full of Germans

that a Russian cannot exist and there is no sense in anything. I thought

I was really serving my sovereign and the Fatherland, but it turns out

that I am serving Barclay. I confess I do not want to.”

The swarm of Bronnítskis and Wintzingerodes and their like still further

embittered the relations between the commanders in chief, and even

less unity resulted. Preparations were made to fight the French before

Smolénsk. A general was sent to survey the position. This general,

hating Barclay, rode to visit a friend of his own, a corps commander,

and, having spent the day with him, returned to Barclay and condemned,

as unsuitable from every point of view, the battleground he had not

seen.

While disputes and intrigues were going on about the future field of

battle, and while we were looking for the French—having lost touch with

them—the French stumbled upon Nevérovski’s division and reached the

walls of Smolénsk.

It was necessary to fight an unexpected battle at Smolénsk to save our

lines of communication. The battle was fought and thousands were killed

on both sides.

Smolénsk was abandoned contrary to the wishes of the Emperor and of the

whole people. But Smolénsk was burned by its own inhabitants who had

been misled by their governor. And these ruined inhabitants, setting

an example to other Russians, went to Moscow thinking only of their own

losses but kindling hatred of the foe. Napoleon advanced farther and we

retired, thus arriving at the very result which caused his destruction.