《War And Peace》 Book14 CHAPTER I
by Leo Tolstoy
THE BATTLE of Borodino with the occupation of Moscow and the flight of the
French, that followed without any more battles, is one of the most instructive
phenomena in history.
All historians are aGREed that the external activity of states and peoples in
their conflicts finds expression in wars; that the political power of states and
peoples is increased or diminished as the immediate result of success or defeat
in war.
Strange are the historical accounts that tell us how some king or emperor,
quarrelling with another king or emperor, levies an army, fights a battle with
the army of his foe, gains a victory, kills three, five, or ten thousand men,
and consequently subdues a state and a whole people consisting of several
millions; and incomprehensible it seems that the defeat of any army, one
hundredth of the whole strength of a people, should force that people to submit.
Yet all the facts of history (so far as we know it) confirm the truth of the
statement, that the successes or defeats of a nation's army are the causes or,
at least, the invariable symptoms of the increase or diminution of the power of
a nation. An army gains a victory, and immediately the claims of the conquering
people are increased to the detriment of the conquered. An army is defeated, and
at once the people loses its rights in proportion to the magnitude of the
defeat; and if its army is utterly defeated, the people is completely conquered.
So (according to history) it has been from the most ancient times up to the
present. All Napoleon's earlier wars serve as illustrations of the rule. As the
Austrian armies were defeated, Austria was deprived of her rights, and the
rights and power of France were increased. The victories of the French at Jena
and at Auerstadt destroyed the independent existence of Prussia.
But suddenly, in 1812, the French gained a victory before Moscow. Moscow was
taken, and in consequence of that, with no subsequent battles, not Russia, but
the French army of six hundred thousand, and then Napoleonic France itself
ceased to exist. To strain the facts to fit the rules of history, to maintain
that the field of Borodino was left in the hands of the Russians, or that after
the evacuation of Moscow, there were battles that destroyed Napoleon's army—is
impossible.
After the victory of the French at Borodino, there was no general engagement,
nor even a skirmish of any GREat importance, yet the French army ceased to
exist. What is the meaning of it? If it had been an example from the history of
China, we could have said it was not an historical fact (the resource of
historians when anything will not fit in with their rules). If it had occurred
in a conflict on a small scale, in which only small numbers of soldiers had
taken part, we might have looked upon it as an exception. But all this took
place before the eyes of our fathers, for whom it was a question of life and
death for their country; and the war was on a larger scale than any wars we know
of.
The sequel of the campaign of 1812—from Borodino to the final expulsion of
the French—has proved that victories are not always a cause nor even an
invariable sign of conquest; it has proved that the force that decides the fate
of peoples does not lie in military leaders, nor even in armies and battles, but
in something else.
The French historians, who describe the position of the French troops before
they marched out of Moscow, assert that everything was in good order in the
Grande Armée, except the cavalry, the artillery, and the transport, and that
there was no forage for the horses and cattle. There was no remedy for this
defect, because the peasants of the surrounding country burned their hay rather
than let the French have it.
Victory did not bring forth its usual results, because the peasants, Karp and
Vlas, by no means persons of heroic feelings (after the French evacuation, they
hurried with their carts to pillage Moscow), and the immense multitude of others
like them burnt their hay rather than bring it to Moscow, however high the
prices offered them.
Let us imagine two men, who have come out to fight a duel with swords in
accordance with all the rules of the art of swordsmanship. The fencing has
lasted for some time. All at once one of the combatants, feeling that he is
wounded, grasping that it is no joking matter, but a question of life and death,
flings away his sword, and snatching up the first cudgel that comes handy,
begins to brandish that. But let us imagine that the combatant, who has so
sensibly made use of the best and simplest means for the attainment of his
object, should be inspired by the traditions of chivalry to try and disguise the
real cause of the conflict and should persist in declaring that he had been
victor in the duel in accordance with all the rules of swordsmanship. One can
imagine what confusion and obscurity would arise from his description of the
duel!
The duellist, who insisted on the conflict being fought in accordance with
the principles of the fencer's art, stands for the French; his opponent, who
flung away his sword and snatched up a cudgel, did like the Russians; and the
attempted description of the duel in accordance with the rules of swordsmanship
has been given us by the historians of the war.
From the time of the burning of Smolensk a war began which did not follow any
of the old traditions of warfare. The burning of towns and villages, the retreat
after every battle, the blow dealt at Borodino and followed by retreat, the
burning of Moscow, the capture of marauders, the seizing of transports,—the
whole of the irregular warfare was a departure from the rules.
Napoleon was aware of it, and from the time when he stood waiting in Moscow
in the correct pose of the victorious fencer, and instead of his opponent's
sword, saw the bludgeon raised against him, he never ceased complaining to
Kutuzov and to the Emperor Alexander that the war was being conducted contrary
to all the rules of war. (As though any rules existed for the slaughter of
men!)
In spite of the complaints of the French that they did not keep to the rules,
in spite of the fact that the Russians in the highest positions felt it somehow
shameful to be fighting with a cudgel, and wanted to take up the correct
position en quarte or en tierce, to make a skilful thrust, en
prime and so on, the cudgel of the people's war was raised in all its
menacing and majestic power; and troubling itself about no question of any one's
tastes or rules, about no fine distinctions, with stupid simplicity, with
perfect consistency, it rose and fell and belaboured the French till the whole
invading army had been driven out.
And happy the people that will not, as the French did in 1813, saluting
according to the rules, gracefully and cautiously offer the sword hilt to the
magnanimous conqueror. Happy the people who, in the moment of trial, asks no
questions how others would act by the recognised rules in such cases, but with
ease and directness picks up the first cudgel that comes handy and deals blows
with it, till resentment and revenge give way to contempt and pity.
