战争与和平(上)-第218部分

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ound　him。
“You　are　very　hasty；　Beliard；”　said　Napoleon；　going　back　again　to　him。　“It　is　easy　to　make　a　mistake　in　the　heat　of　the　fray。　Go　and　look　again　and　then　come　to　me。”　Before　Beliard　was　out　of　sight　another　messenger　came　galloping　up　from　another　part　of　the　battlefield。
“Well；　what　is　it　now？”　said　Napoleon；　in　the　tone　of　a　man　irritated　by　repeated　interruptions。
“Sire；　the　prince　…”　began　the　adjutant。
“Asks　for　reinforcements？”　said　Napoleon；　with　a　wrathful　gesture。　The　adjutant　bent　his　head　affirmatively　and　was　proceeding　to　give　his　message；　but　the　Emperor　turned　and　walked　a　couple　of　steps　away；　stopped；　turned　back；　and　beckoned　to　Berthier。　“We　must　send　the　reserves；”　he　said　with　a　slight　gesticulation。　“Whom　shall　we　send　there？　what　do　you　think？”　he　asked　Berthier；　that　“gosling　I　have　made　an　eagle；”　as　he　afterwards　called　him。
“Claparède’s　division；　sire；”　said　Berthier；　who　knew　all　the　divisions；　regiments；　and　battalions　by　heart。
Napoleon　nodded　his　head　in　assent。
The　adjutant　galloped　off　to　Claparède’s　division。　And　a　few　moments　later　the　Young　Guards；　stationed　behind　the　redoubt；　were　moving　out。　Napoleon　gazed　in　that　direction　in　silence。
“No；”　he　said　suddenly　to　Berthier；　“I　can’t　send　Claparède。　Send　Friant’s　division。”
Though　there　was　no　advantage　of　any　kind　in　sending　Friant’s　division　rather　than　Claparède’s；　and　there　was　obvious　inconvenience　and　delay　now　in　turning　back　Claparède　and　despatching　Friant；　the　order　was　carried　out。　Napoleon　did　not　see　that　in　relation　to　his　troops　he　played　the　part　of　the　doctor；　whose　action　in　hindering　the　course　of　nature　with　his　nostrums　he　so　truly　gauged　and　condemned。
Friant’s　division　vanished　like　the　rest　into　the　smoke　of　the　battlefield。　Adjutants　still　kept　galloping　up　from　every　side；　and　all；　as　though　in　collusion；　said　the　same　thing。　All　asked　for　reinforcements；　all　told　of　the　Russians　standing　firm　and　keeping　up　a　hellish　fire；　under　which　the　French　troops　were　melting　away。
Napoleon　sat　on　a　camp…stool；　plunged　in　thought。　M。　de　Beausset；　the　reputed　lover　of　travel；　had　been　fasting　since　early　morning；　and　approaching　the　Emperor；　he　ventured　respectfully　to　suggest　breakfast　to　his　majesty。
“I　hope　that　I　can　already　congratulate　your　majesty　on　a　victory；”　he　said。
Napoleon　shook　his　head。　Supposing　the　negative　to　refer　to　the　victory　only　and　not　to　the　breakfast；　M。　de　Beausset　permitted　himself　with　respectful　playfulness　to　observe　that　there　was　no　reason　in　the　world　that　could　be　allowed　to　interfere　with　breakfast　when　breakfast　was　possible。
“Go　to　the…”　Napoleon　jerked　out　gloomily；　and　he　turned　his　back　on　him。　A　saintly　smile　of　sympathy；　regret；　and　ecstasy　beamed　on　M。　de　Beausset’s　face　as　he　moved　with　his　swinging　step　back　to　the　other　generals。
Napoleon　was　experiencing　the　bitter　feeling　of　a　lucky　gambler；　who；　after　recklessly　staking　his　money　and　always　winning；　suddenly　finds；　precisely　when　he　has　carefully　reckoned　up　all　contingencies；　that　the　more　he　considers　his　course；　the　more　certain　he　is　of　losing。
The　soldiers　were　the　same；　the　generals　the　same；　there　had　been　the　same　preparations；　the　same　disposition；　the　same　proclamation；　“court　et　énergique。”　He　was　himself　the　same；—he　knew　that；　he　knew　that　he　was　more　experienced　and　skilful　indeed　now　than　he　had　been　of　old。　The　enemy　even　was　the　same　as　at　Austerlitz　and　Friedland。　But　the　irresistible　wave　of　his　hand　seemed　robbed　of　its　might　by　magic。
All　the　old　man？uvres　that　had　invariably　been　crowned　with　success：　the　concentration　of　the　battery　on　one　point；　and　the　advance　of　the　reserves　to　break　the　line；　and　the　cavalry　attack　of　“men　of　iron；”　all　these　resources　had　been　employed；　and　far　from　victory　being　secure；　from　all　sides　the　same　tidings　kept　pouring　in　of　killed　or　wounded　generals；　of　reinforcements　needed；　of　the　troops　being　in　disorder；　and　the　Russians　impossible　to　move。
Hitherto；　after　two　or　three　orders　being　given；　two　or　three　phrases　delivered；　marshals　and　adjutants　had　galloped　up　with　radiant　faces　and　congratulations；　announcing　the　capture　as　trophies　of　whole　corps　of　prisoners；　of　bundles　of　flags　and　eagles；　of　cannons　and　stores；　and　Murat　had　asked　leave　to　let　the　cavalry　go　to　capture　the　baggage。　So　it　had　been　at　Lodi；　Marengo；　Arcole；　Jena；　Austerlitz；　Wagram；　and　so　on；　and　so　on。　But　now　something　strange　was　coming　over　his　men。
In　spite　of　the　news　of　the　capture　of　the　flèches；　Napoleon　saw　that　things　were　not　the　same；　not　at　all　the　same　as　at　previous　battles。　He　saw　that　what　he　was　feeling；　all　the　men　round　him；　experienced　in　military　matters；　were　feeling　too。　All　their　faces　were　gloomy；　all　avoided　each　others’　eyes。　It　was　only　a　Beausset　who　could　fail　to　grasp　the　import　of　what　was　happening。　Napoleon　after　his　long　experience　of　war　knew　very　well　all　that　was　meant　by　an　unsuccessful　attack　after　eight　hours’　straining　every　possible　effort。　He　knew　that　this　was　almost　equivalent　to　a　defeat；　and　that　the　merest　chance　might　now；　in　the　critical　point　the　battle　was　in；　be　the　overthrow　of　himself　and　his　troops。
When　he　went　over　in　his　own　mind　all　this　strange　Russian　campaign；　in　which　not　a　single　victory　had　been　gained；　in　which　not　a　flag；　nor　a　cannon；　nor　a　corps　had　been　taken　in　two　months；　when　he　looked　at　the　concealed　gloom　in　the　faces　round　him；　and　heard　reports　that　the　Russians　still　held　their　ground—a　terrible　feeling；　such　as　is　experienced　in　a　nightmare；　came　over　him；　and　all　the　unlucky　contingencies　occurred　to　him　that　might　be　his　ruin。　The　Russians　might　fall　upon　his　left　wing；　might　break　through　his　centre；　a　stray　ball　might　even　kill　himself。　All　that　was　possible。　In　his　former　battles　he　had　only　considered　the　possibilities　of　success；　now　an　immense　number　of　unlucky　chances　presented　themselves；　and　he　expected　them　all。　Yes；　it　was　like　a　nightmare；　when　a　man　dreams　that　an　assailant　is　attacking　him；　and　in　his　dream　he　lifts　up　his　arm　and　deals　a　blow　with　a　force　at　his　assailant　that　he　knows　must　crush　him；　and　feels　that　his　arm　falls　limp　and　powerless　as　a　rag；　and　the　horror　of　inevitable　death　comes　upon　him　in　his　helplessness。
The　news　that　the　Russians　were　attacking　the　left　flank　of　the　French　army　aroused　that　horror　in　Napoleon。　He　sat　in　silence　on　a　camp…stool　under　the　redoubt；　his　elbows　on　his　knees；　and　his　head　sunk　in　his　hands。　Berthier　came　up　to　him　and　suggested　that　they　should　inspect　the　lines　to　ascertain　the　position　of　affairs。
“What？　What　do　you　say？”　said　Napoleon。　“Yes；　tell　them　to　bring　my　horse。”　He　mounted　a　horse　and　rode　to　Semyonovskoye。
In　the　slowly　parting　smoke；　over　the　whole　plain　through　which　Napoleon　rode；　men　and　horses；　singly　and　in　heaps；　were　lying　in　pools　of　blood。　Such　a　fearful　spectacle；　so　great　a　mass　of　killed　in　so　small　a　space；　had　never　been　seen　by　Napoleon　nor　any　of　his　generals。　The　roar　of　the　cannon　that　had　not　ceased　for　ten　hours；　exhausted　the　ear　and　gave　a　peculiar　character　to　the　spectacle　（like　music　accompanying　living　pictures）。　Napoleon　rode　up　to　the　height　of　Semyonovskoye；　and　through　the　smoke　he　saw　ranks　of　soldiers　in　uniforms　of　unfamiliar　hues。　They　were　the　Russians。
The　Russians　stood　in　serried　ranks　behind　Semyonovskoye　and　the　redoubt；　and　their　guns　kept　up　an　incessant　roar　and　smoke　all　along　their　lines。　It　was　not　a　battle。　It　was　a　prolonged　massacre；　which　could　be　of　no　avail　either　to　French　or　Russians。　Napoleon　pulled　up　his　horse；　and　sank　again　into　the　brooding　reverie　from　which　Berthier　had　roused　him。　He　could　not　stay　that　thing　that　was　being　done　before　him　and　about　him；　and　that　was　regarded　as　being　led　by　him　and　as　depending　on　him；　that　thing　for　the　first　time；　after　ill　success；　struck　him　as　superfluous　and　horrible。　One　of　the　generals；　riding　up　to　Napoleon；　ventured　to　suggest　to　him　that　the　Old　Guards　should　advance　into　action。　Ney　and　Berthier；　standing　close　by；　exchanged　glances　and　smiled　contemptuously　at　the　wild　suggestion　of　this　general。
Napoleon　sat　mute　with　downcast　head。
“Eight　hundred　leagues　from　France；　I　am　not　going　to　let　my　Guard　be　destroyed；”　he　said；　and　turning　his　horse；　he　rode　back　to　Shevardino。


Chapter　35
KUTUZOV；　with　his　grey　head　hanging；　and　his　heavy；　corpulent　frame　sunk　into　a　heap；　was　sitting　on　a　bench　covered　with　a　rug；　in　the　same　place　in　which　Pierre　had　seen　him　in　the　morning。　He　issued　no　orders；　and　simply　gave　or　withheld　his　assent　to　what　was　proposed　to　him。
“Yes；　yes；　do　so；”　he　would　say　in　reply　to　various　suggestions。　“Yes；　yes；　go　across；　my　dear　boy；　and　see；”　he　would　cry　first　to　one　and　the　to　another　of　the　adjutants　near　him；　or；　“No；　better　not；　we’d　better　wait　a　bit；”　he　would　say。　He　listened　to　the　reports　brought　him；　and　gave　orders；　when　they　were　asked　for。　But　as　he　heard　the　reports；　he　seemed　to　take　little　interest　in　the　import　of　the　words　spoken；　something　else　in　the　expression　of　his　face；　in　the　tone　of　the　voice　of　the　speaker；　seemed　to　interest　him　more。　From　long　years　of　military　experience　he　had　learned；　and　with　the　wisdom　of　old　age　he　had　recognised；　that　one　man　cannot　guide　hundreds　of　thousands　of　men　struggling　with　death；　that　the　fate　of　battles　is　not　decided　by　the　orders　given　by　the　commander…in…chief；　nor　the　place　in　which　the　troops　are　stationed；　nor　the　number　of　cannons；　nor　of　killed；　but　by　that　intangible　force　called　the　spirit　of　the　army；　and　he　followed　that　force　and　led　it　as　far　as　it　lay　in　his　power。
The　general　expression　of　Kutuzov’s　face　was　concentrated；　quiet　attention　and　intensity；　with　difficulty　overcoming　his　weak　and　aged　body。
At　eleven　o’clock　they　brought　him　the　news　that　the　French　had　been　driven　back　again　from　the　flèches　they　had　captured；　but　that　Bagration　was　wounded。　Kutuzov　groaned；　and　shook　his　head。
“Ride　over　to　Prince　Pyotr　Ivanovitch　and　find　out　exactly　about　it；”　he　said　to　one　of　the　adjutants；　and　then　he　turned　to　the　Prince　of　Würtemberg；　who　was　standing　behind　him：
“Will　your　highness　be　pleased　to　take　the　command　o