Bab Bab 340 · 第340章

The fundamental and essential significance of the European events of the

beginning of the nineteenth century lies in the movement of the mass of

the European peoples from west to east and afterwards from east to west.

The commencement of that movement was the movement from west to east.

For the peoples of the west to be able to make their warlike movement

to Moscow it was necessary: (1) that they should form themselves into

a military group of a size able to endure a collision with the warlike

military group of the east, (2) that they should abandon all established

traditions and customs, and (3) that during their military movement they

should have at their head a man who could justify to himself and to them

the deceptions, robberies, and murders which would have to be committed

during that movement.

And beginning with the French Revolution the old inadequately large

group was destroyed, as well as the old habits and traditions, and step

by step a group was formed of larger dimensions with new customs and

traditions, and a man was produced who would stand at the head of the

coming movement and bear the responsibility for all that had to be done.

A man without convictions, without habits, without traditions, without

a name, and not even a Frenchman, emerges—by what seem the strangest

chances—from among all the seething French parties, and without joining

any one of them is borne forward to a prominent position.

The ignorance of his colleagues, the weakness and insignificance of

his opponents, the frankness of his falsehoods, and the dazzling and

self-confident limitations of this man raise him to the head of the

army. The brilliant qualities of the soldiers of the army sent to Italy,

his opponents’ reluctance to fight, and his own childish audacity and

self-confidence secure him military fame. Innumerable so-called chances

accompany him everywhere. The disfavor into which he falls with the

rulers of France turns to his advantage. His attempts to avoid his

predestined path are unsuccessful: he is not received into the Russian

service, and the appointment he seeks in Turkey comes to nothing. During

the war in Italy he is several times on the verge of destruction and

each time is saved in an unexpected manner. Owing to various diplomatic

considerations the Russian armies—just those which might have destroyed

his prestige—do not appear upon the scene till he is no longer there.

On his return from Italy he finds the government in Paris in a process

of dissolution in which all those who are in it are inevitably wiped

out and destroyed. And by chance an escape from this dangerous position

presents itself in the form of an aimless and senseless expedition

to Africa. Again so-called chance accompanies him. Impregnable Malta

surrenders without a shot; his most reckless schemes are crowned with

success. The enemy’s fleet, which subsequently did not let a single boat

pass, allows his entire army to elude it. In Africa a whole series of

outrages are committed against the almost unarmed inhabitants. And the

men who commit these crimes, especially their leader, assure themselves

that this is admirable, this is glory—it resembles Caesar and Alexander

the Great and is therefore good.

This ideal of glory and grandeur—which consists not merely in

considering nothing wrong that one does but in priding oneself on every

crime one commits, ascribing to it an incomprehensible supernatural

significance—that ideal, destined to guide this man and his associates,

had scope for its development in Africa. Whatever he does succeeds. The

plague does not touch him. The cruelty of murdering prisoners is not

imputed to him as a fault. His childishly rash, uncalled-for, and

ignoble departure from Africa, leaving his comrades in distress, is

set down to his credit, and again the enemy’s fleet twice lets him slip

past. When, intoxicated by the crimes he has committed so successfully,

he reaches Paris, the dissolution of the republican government, which a

year earlier might have ruined him, has reached its extreme limit, and

his presence there now as a newcomer free from party entanglements can

only serve to exalt him—and though he himself has no plan, he is quite

ready for his new rôle.

He had no plan, he was afraid of everything, but the parties snatched at

him and demanded his participation.

He alone—with his ideal of glory and grandeur developed in Italy and

Egypt, his insane self-adulation, his boldness in crime and frankness in

lying—he alone could justify what had to be done.

He is needed for the place that awaits him, and so almost apart from

his will and despite his indecision, his lack of a plan, and all his

mistakes, he is drawn into a conspiracy that aims at seizing power and

the conspiracy is crowned with success.

He is pushed into a meeting of the legislature. In alarm he wishes to

flee, considering himself lost. He pretends to fall into a swoon and

says senseless things that should have ruined him. But the once proud

and shrewd rulers of France, feeling that their part is played out, are

even more bewildered than he, and do not say the words they should have

said to destroy him and retain their power.

Chance, millions of chances, give him power, and all men as if by

agreement co-operate to confirm that power. Chance forms the characters

of the rulers of France, who submit to him; chance forms the character

of Paul I of Russia who recognizes his government; chance contrives

a plot against him which not only fails to harm him but confirms his

power. Chance puts the Duc d’Enghien in his hands and unexpectedly

causes him to kill him—thereby convincing the mob more forcibly than

in any other way that he had the right, since he had the might.

Chance contrives that though he directs all his efforts to prepare an

expedition against England (which would inevitably have ruined him) he

never carries out that intention, but unexpectedly falls upon Mack and

the Austrians, who surrender without a battle. Chance and genius give

him the victory at Austerlitz; and by chance all men, not only the

French but all Europe—except England which does not take part in the

events about to happen—despite their former horror and detestation of

his crimes, now recognize his authority, the title he has given

himself, and his ideal of grandeur and glory, which seems excellent and

reasonable to them all.

As if measuring themselves and preparing for the coming movement, the

western forces push toward the east several times in 1805, 1806, 1807,

and 1809, gaining strength and growing. In 1811 the group of people that

had formed in France unites into one group with the peoples of Central

Europe. The strength of the justification of the man who stands at the

head of the movement grows with the increased size of the group. During

the ten-year preparatory period this man had formed relations with all

the crowned heads of Europe. The discredited rulers of the world can

oppose no reasonable ideal to the insensate Napoleonic ideal of

glory and grandeur. One after another they hasten to display their

insignificance before him. The King of Prussia sends his wife to seek

the great man’s mercy; the Emperor of Austria considers it a favor that

this man receives a daughter of the Caesars into his bed; the Pope, the

guardian of all that the nations hold sacred, utilizes religion for the

aggrandizement of the great man. It is not Napoleon who prepares himself

for the accomplishment of his role, so much as all those round him who

prepare him to take on himself the whole responsibility for what is

happening and has to happen. There is no step, no crime or petty fraud

he commits, which in the mouths of those around him is not at once

represented as a great deed. The most suitable fête the Germans can

devise for him is a celebration of Jena and Auerstädt. Not only is he

great, but so are his ancestors, his brothers, his stepsons, and his

brothers-in-law. Everything is done to deprive him of the remains of his

reason and to prepare him for his terrible part. And when he is ready so

too are the forces.

The invasion pushes eastward and reaches its final goal—Moscow. That

city is taken; the Russian army suffers heavier losses than the opposing

armies had suffered in the former war from Austerlitz to Wagram. But

suddenly instead of those chances and that genius which hitherto had

so consistently led him by an uninterrupted series of successes to the

predestined goal, an innumerable sequence of inverse chances occur—from

the cold in his head at Borodinó to the sparks which set Moscow on

fire, and the frosts—and instead of genius, stupidity and immeasurable

baseness become evident.

The invaders flee, turn back, flee again, and all the chances are now

not for Napoleon but always against him.

A countermovement is then accomplished from east to west with a

remarkable resemblance to the preceding movement from west to east.

Attempted drives from east to west—similar to the contrary movements of

1805, 1807, and 1809—precede the great westward movement; there is the

same coalescence into a group of enormous dimensions; the same adhesion

of the people of Central Europe to the movement; the same hesitation

midway, and the same increasing rapidity as the goal is approached.

Paris, the ultimate goal, is reached. The Napoleonic government and army

are destroyed. Napoleon himself is no longer of any account; all his

actions are evidently pitiful and mean, but again an inexplicable chance

occurs. The allies detest Napoleon whom they regard as the cause of

their sufferings. Deprived of power and authority, his crimes and his

craft exposed, he should have appeared to them what he appeared ten

years previously and one year later—an outlawed brigand. But by some

strange chance no one perceives this. His part is not yet ended. The man

who ten years before and a year later was considered an outlawed brigand

is sent to an island two days’ sail from France, which for some reason

is presented to him as his dominion, and guards are given to him and

millions of money are paid him.