________________________________________________
_ Bilibin was now at army headquarters in a diplomatic capacity, and
though he wrote in French and used French jests and French idioms,
he described the whole campaign with a fearless self-censure and
self-derision genuinely Russian. Bilibin wrote that the obligation
of diplomatic discretion tormented him, and he was happy to have in
Prince Andrew a reliable correspondent to whom he could pour out the
bile he had accumulated at the sight of all that was being done in the
army. The letter was old, having been written before the battle at
Preussisch-Eylau.
"Since the day of our brilliant success at Austerlitz," wrote
Bilibin, "as you know, my dear prince, I never leave headquarters. I
have certainly acquired a taste for war, and it is just as well for
me; what I have seen during these last three months is incredible.
"I begin ab ovo. 'The enemy of the human race,' as you know, attacks
the Prussians. The Prussians are our faithful allies who have only
betrayed us three times in three years. We take up their cause, but it
turns out that 'the enemy of the human race' pays no heed to our
fine speeches and in his rude and savage way throws himself on the
Prussians without giving them time to finish the parade they had
begun, and in two twists of the hand he breaks them to smithereens and
installs himself in the palace at Potsdam.
"'I most ardently desire,' writes the King of Prussia to
Bonaparte, 'that Your Majesty should be received and treated in my
palace in a manner agreeable to yourself, and in so far as
circumstances allowed, I have hastened to take all steps to that
end. May I have succeeded!' The Prussian generals pride themselves
on being polite to the French and lay down their arms at the first
demand.
"The head of the garrison at Glogau, with ten thousand men, asks the
King of Prussia what he is to do if he is summoned to surrender....
All this is absolutely true.
"In short, hoping to settle matters by taking up a warlike attitude,
it turns out that we have landed ourselves in war, and what is more,
in war on our own frontiers, with and for the King of Prussia. We have
everything in perfect order, only one little thing is lacking, namely,
a commander in chief. As it was considered that the Austerlitz success
might have been more decisive had the commander in chief not been so
young, all our octogenarians were reviewed, and of Prozorovski and
Kamenski the latter was preferred. The general comes to us,
Suvorov-like, in a kibitka, and is received with acclamations of joy
and triumph.
"On the 4th, the first courier arrives from Petersburg. The mails
are taken to the field marshal's room, for he likes to do everything
himself. I am called in to help sort the letters and take those
meant for us. The field marshal looks on and waits for letters
addressed to him. We search, but none are to be found. The field
marshal grows impatient and sets to work himself and finds letters
from the Emperor to Count T., Prince V., and others. Then he bursts
into one of his wild furies and rages at everyone and everything,
seizes the letters, opens them, and reads those from the Emperor
addressed to others. 'Ah! So that's the way they treat me! No
confidence in me! Ah, ordered to keep an eye on me! Very well then!
Get along with you!' So he writes the famous order of the day to
General Bennigsen:
'I am wounded and cannot ride and consequently cannot command the
army. You have brought your army corps to Pultusk, routed: here it
is exposed, and without fuel or forage, so something must be done,
and, as you yourself reported to Count Buxhowden yesterday, you must
think of retreating to our frontier- which do today.'
"'From all my riding,' he writes to the Emperor, 'I have got a
saddle sore which, coming after all my previous journeys, quite
prevents my riding and commanding so vast an army, so I have passed on
the command to the general next in seniority, Count Buxhowden,
having sent him my whole staff and all that belongs to it, advising
him if there is a lack of bread, to move farther into the interior
of Prussia, for only one day's ration of bread remains, and in some
regiments none at all, as reported by the division commanders,
Ostermann and Sedmoretzki, and all that the peasants had has been
eaten up. I myself will remain in hospital at Ostrolenka till I
recover. In regard to which I humbly submit my report, with the
information that if the army remains in its present bivouac another
fortnight there will not be a healthy man left in it by spring.
"'Grant leave to retire to his country seat to an old man who is
already in any case dishonored by being unable to fulfill the great
and glorious task for which he was chosen. I shall await your most
gracious permission here in hospital, that I may not have to play
the part of a secretary rather than commander in the army. My
removal from the army does not produce the slightest stir- a blind man
has left it. There are thousands such as I in Russia.'
"The field marshal is angry with the Emperor and he punishes us all,
isn't it logical?
"This is the first act. Those that follow are naturally increasingly
interesting and entertaining. After the field marshal's departure it
appears that we are within sight of the enemy and must give battle.
Buxhowden is commander in chief by seniority, but General Bennigsen
does not quite see it; more particularly as it is he and his corps who
are within sight of the enemy and he wishes to profit by the
opportunity to fight a battle 'on his own hand' as the Germans say. He
does so. This is the battle of Pultusk, which is considered a great
victory but in my opinion was nothing of the kind. We civilians, as
you know, have a very bad way of deciding whether a battle was won
or lost. Those who retreat after a battle have lost it is what we say;
and according to that it is we who lost the battle of Pultusk. In
short, we retreat after the battle but send a courier to Petersburg
with news of a victory, and General Bennigsen, hoping to receive
from Petersburg the post of commander in chief as a reward for his
victory, does not give up the command of the army to General
Buxhowden. During this interregnum we begin a very original and
interesting series of maneuvers. Our aim is no longer, as it should
be, to avoid or attack the enemy, but solely to avoid General
Buxhowden who by right of seniority should be our chief. So
energetically do we pursue this aim that after crossing an
unfordable river we burn the bridges to separate ourselves from our
enemy, who at the moment is not Bonaparte but Buxhowden. General
Buxhowden was all but attacked and captured by a superior enemy
force as a result of one of these maneuvers that enabled us to
escape him. Buxhowden pursues us- we scuttle. He hardly crosses the
river to our side before we recross to the other. At last our enemy.
Buxhowden, catches us and attacks. Both generals are angry, and the
result is a challenge on Buxhowden's part and an epileptic fit on
Bennigsen's. But at the critical moment the courier who carried the
news of our victory at Pultusk to Petersburg returns bringing our
appointment as commander in chief, and our first foe, Buxhowden, is
vanquished; we can now turn our thoughts to the second, Bonaparte. But
as it turns out, just at that moment a third enemy rises before us-
namely the Orthodox Russian soldiers, loudly demanding bread, meat,
biscuits, fodder, and whatnot! The stores are empty, the roads
impassable. The Orthodox begin looting, and in a way of which our last
campaign can give you no idea. Half the regiments form bands and scour
the countryside and put everything to fire and sword. The
inhabitants are totally ruined, the hospitals overflow with sick,
and famine is everywhere. Twice the marauders even attack our
headquarters, and the commander in chief has to ask for a battalion to
disperse them. During one of these attacks they carried off my empty
portmanteau and my dressing gown. The Emperor proposes to give all
commanders of divisions the right to shoot marauders, but I much
fear this will oblige one half the army to shoot the other."
At first Prince Andrew read with his eyes only, but after a while,
in spite of himself (although he knew how far it was safe to trust
Bilibin), what he had read began to interest him more and more. When
he had read thus far, he crumpled the letter up and threw it away.
It was not what he had read that vexed him, but the fact that the life
out there in which he had now no part could perturb him. He shut his
eyes, rubbed his forehead as if to rid himself of all interest in what
he had read, and listened to what was passing in the nursery. Suddenly
he thought he heard a strange noise through the door. He was seized
with alarm lest something should have happened to the child while he
was reading the letter. He went on tiptoe to the nursery door and
opened it.
Just as he went in he saw that the nurse was hiding something from
him with a scared look and that Princess Mary was no longer by the
cot.
"My dear," he heard what seemed to him her despairing whisper behind
him.
As often happens after long sleeplessness and long anxiety, he was
seized by an unreasoning panic- it occurred to him that the child
was dead. All that he saw and heard seemed to confirm this terror.
"All is over," he thought, and a cold sweat broke out on his
forehead. He went to the cot in confusion, sure that he would find
it empty and that the nurse had been hiding the dead baby. He drew the
curtain aside and for some time his frightened, restless eyes could
not find the baby. At last he saw him: the rosy boy had tossed about
till he lay across the bed with his head lower than the pillow, and
was smacking his lips in his sleep and breathing evenly.
Prince Andrew was as glad to find the boy like that, as if he had
already lost him. He bent over him and, as his sister had taught
him, tried with his lips whether the child was still feverish. The
soft forehead was moist. Prince Andrew touched the head with his hand;
even the hair was wet, so profusely had the child perspired. He was
not dead, but evidently the crisis was over and he was convalescent.
Prince Andrew longed to snatch up, to squeeze, to hold to his heart,
this helpless little creature, but dared not do so. He stood over him,
gazing at his head and at the little arms and legs which showed
under the blanket. He heard a rustle behind him and a shadow
appeared under the curtain of the cot. He did not look round, but
still gazing at the infant's face listened to his regular breathing.
The dark shadow was Princess Mary, who had come up to the cot with
noiseless steps, lifted the curtain, and dropped it again behind
her. Prince Andrew recognized her without looking and held out his
hand to her. She pressed it.
"He has perspired," said Prince Andrew.
"I was coming to tell you so."
The child moved slightly in his sleep, smiled, and rubbed his
forehead against the pillow.
Prince Andrew looked at his sister. In the dim shadow of the curtain
her luminous eyes shone more brightly than usual from the tears of joy
that were in them. She leaned over to her brother and kissed him,
slightly catching the curtain of the cot. Each made the other a
warning gesture and stood still in the dim light beneath the curtain
as if not wishing to leave that seclusion where they three were shut
off from all the world. Prince Andrew was the first to move away,
ruffling his hair against the muslin of the curtain.
"Yes, this is the one thing left me now," he said with a sigh. _
Read next: Book Five : 1806-07: Chapter 10
Read previous: Book Five : 1806-07: Chapter 8
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