บทที่ บทที่ 174 · 第174章

After all that Napoleon had said to him—those bursts of anger and the

last dryly spoken words: “I will detain you no longer, General; you

shall receive my letter,” Balashëv felt convinced that Napoleon would

not wish to see him, and would even avoid another meeting with him—an

insulted envoy—especially as he had witnessed his unseemly anger. But,

to his surprise, Balashëv received, through Duroc, an invitation to dine

with the Emperor that day.

Bessières, Caulaincourt, and Berthier were present at that dinner.

Napoleon met Balashëv cheerfully and amiably. He not only showed no sign

of constraint or self-reproach on account of his outburst that morning,

but, on the contrary, tried to reassure Balashëv. It was evident that

he had long been convinced that it was impossible for him to make a

mistake, and that in his perception whatever he did was right, not

because it harmonized with any idea of right and wrong, but because he

did it.

The Emperor was in very good spirits after his ride through Vílna, where

crowds of people had rapturously greeted and followed him. From all

the windows of the streets through which he rode, rugs, flags, and his

monogram were displayed, and the Polish ladies, welcoming him, waved

their handkerchiefs to him.

At dinner, having placed Balashëv beside him, Napoleon not only treated

him amiably but behaved as if Balashëv were one of his own courtiers,

one of those who sympathized with his plans and ought to rejoice at

his success. In the course of conversation he mentioned Moscow and

questioned Balashëv about the Russian capital, not merely as an

interested traveler asks about a new city he intends to visit, but as

if convinced that Balashëv, as a Russian, must be flattered by his

curiosity.

“How many inhabitants are there in Moscow? How many houses? Is it true

that Moscow is called ‘Holy Moscow’? How many churches are there in

Moscow?” he asked.

And receiving the reply that there were more than two hundred churches,

he remarked:

“Why such a quantity of churches?”

“The Russians are very devout,” replied Balashëv.

“But a large number of monasteries and churches is always a sign of the

backwardness of a people,” said Napoleon, turning to Caulaincourt for

appreciation of this remark.

Balashëv respectfully ventured to disagree with the French Emperor.

“Every country has its own character,” said he.

“But nowhere in Europe is there anything like that,” said Napoleon.

“I beg your Majesty’s pardon,” returned Balashëv, “besides Russia there

is Spain, where there are also many churches and monasteries.”

This reply of Balashëv’s, which hinted at the recent defeats of the

French in Spain, was much appreciated when he related it at Alexander’s

court, but it was not much appreciated at Napoleon’s dinner, where it

passed unnoticed.

The uninterested and perplexed faces of the marshals showed that they

were puzzled as to what Balashëv’s tone suggested. “If there is a point

we don’t see it, or it is not at all witty,” their expressions seemed

to say. So little was his rejoinder appreciated that Napoleon did not

notice it at all and naïvely asked Balashëv through what towns the

direct road from there to Moscow passed. Balashëv, who was on the alert

all through the dinner, replied that just as “all roads lead to Rome,”

so all roads lead to Moscow: there were many roads, and “among them the

road through Poltáva, which Charles XII chose.” Balashëv involuntarily

flushed with pleasure at the aptitude of this reply, but hardly had

he uttered the word Poltáva before Caulaincourt began speaking of the

badness of the road from Petersburg to Moscow and of his Petersburg

reminiscences.

After dinner they went to drink coffee in Napoleon’s study, which four

days previously had been that of the Emperor Alexander. Napoleon sat

down, toying with his Sèvres coffee cup, and motioned Balashëv to a

chair beside him.

Napoleon was in that well-known after-dinner mood which, more than

any reasoned cause, makes a man contented with himself and disposed to

consider everyone his friend. It seemed to him that he was surrounded

by men who adored him: and he felt convinced that, after his dinner,

Balashëv too was his friend and worshiper. Napoleon turned to him with a

pleasant, though slightly ironic, smile.

“They tell me this is the room the Emperor Alexander occupied? Strange,

isn’t it, General?” he said, evidently not doubting that this remark

would be agreeable to his hearer since it went to prove his, Napoleon’s,

superiority to Alexander.

Balashëv made no reply and bowed his head in silence.

“Yes. Four days ago in this room, Wintzingerode and Stein were

deliberating,” continued Napoleon with the same derisive and

self-confident smile. “What I can’t understand,” he went on, “is that

the Emperor Alexander has surrounded himself with my personal enemies.

That I do not... understand. Has he not thought that I may do the same?”

and he turned inquiringly to Balashëv, and evidently this thought turned

him back on to the track of his morning’s anger, which was still fresh

in him.

“And let him know that I will do so!” said Napoleon, rising and pushing

his cup away with his hand. “I’ll drive all his Württemberg, Baden, and

Weimar relations out of Germany.... Yes. I’ll drive them out. Let him

prepare an asylum for them in Russia!”

Balashëv bowed his head with an air indicating that he would like to

make his bow and leave, and only listened because he could not help

hearing what was said to him. Napoleon did not notice this expression;

he treated Balashëv not as an envoy from his enemy, but as a man

now fully devoted to him and who must rejoice at his former master’s

humiliation.

“And why has the Emperor Alexander taken command of the armies? What is

the good of that? War is my profession, but his business is to reign

and not to command armies! Why has he taken on himself such a

responsibility?”

Again Napoleon brought out his snuffbox, paced several times up and down

the room in silence, and then, suddenly and unexpectedly, went up to

Balashëv and with a slight smile, as confidently, quickly, and simply

as if he were doing something not merely important but pleasing to

Balashëv, he raised his hand to the forty-year-old Russian general’s

face and, taking him by the ear, pulled it gently, smiling with his lips

only.

To have one’s ear pulled by the Emperor was considered the greatest

honor and mark of favor at the French court.

“Well, adorer and courtier of the Emperor Alexander, why don’t you say

anything?” said he, as if it was ridiculous, in his presence, to be the

adorer and courtier of anyone but himself, Napoleon. “Are the horses

ready for the general?” he added, with a slight inclination of his head

in reply to Balashëv’s bow. “Let him have mine, he has a long way to

go!”

The letter taken by Balashëv was the last Napoleon sent to Alexander.

Every detail of the interview was communicated to the Russian monarch,

and the war began....