【有声英语文学名著】战争与和平 Book 11（19）

 

 
Chapter 19 - Napoleon surveys Moscow from Poklónny Hill
 
Kutuzov’s order to retreat through Moscow to the Ryazan road was issued at night on the first of September.
The first troops started at once, and during the night they marched slowly and steadily 1 without hurry. At daybreak, however, those nearing the town at the Dorogomilov bridge saw ahead of them masses of soldiers crowding and hurrying across the bridge, ascending 2 on the opposite side and blocking the streets and alleys 3, while endless masses of troops were bearing down on them from behind, and an unreasoning hurry and alarm overcame them. They all rushed forward to the bridge, onto it, and to the fords and the boats. Kutuzov himself had driven round by side streets to the other side of Moscow.
By ten o’clock in the morning of the second of September, only the rear guard remained in the Dorogomilov suburb, where they had ample room. The main army was on the other side of Moscow or beyond it.
At that very time, at ten in the morning of the second of September, Napoleon was standing 4 among his troops on the Poklonny Hill looking at the panorama 5 spread out before him. From the twenty-sixth of August to the second of September, that is from the battle of Borodino to the entry of the French into Moscow, during the whole of that agitating 6, memorable 7 week, there had been the extraordinary autumn weather that always comes as a surprise, when the sun hangs low and gives more heat than in spring, when everything shines so brightly in the rare clear atmosphere that the eyes smart, when the lungs are strengthened and refreshed by inhaling 8 the aromatic 9 autumn air, when even the nights are warm, and when in those dark warm nights, golden stars startle and delight us continually by falling from the sky.
At ten in the morning of the second of September this weather still held.
The brightness of the morning was magical. Moscow seen from the Poklonny Hill lay spaciously 10 spread out with her river, her gardens, and her churches, and she seemed to be living her usual life, her cupolas glittering like stars in the sunlight.
The view of the strange city with its peculiar 11 architecture, such as he had never seen before, filled Napoleon with the rather envious 12 and uneasy curiosity men feel when they see an alien form of life that has no knowledge of them. This city was evidently living with the full force of its own life. By the indefinite signs which, even at a distance, distinguish a living body from a dead one, Napoleon from the Poklonny Hill perceived the throb 13 of life in the town and felt, as it were, the breathing of that great and beautiful body.
Every Russian looking at Moscow feels her to be a mother; every foreigner who sees her, even if ignorant of her significance as the mother city, must feel her feminine character, and Napoleon felt it.
“Cette ville asiatique aux innombrables eglises, Moscou la sainte. La voila done enfin, cette fameuse ville! Il etait temps,”* said he - * “That Asiatic city with innumerable churches, holy Moscow! Here she is at last, that famous city. It was high time.”, and dismounting he ordered a plan of Moscow to be spread out before him, and summoned Lelorgne d’Ideville, the interpreter.
“A town captured by the enemy is like a maid who has lost her honor,” thought he (he had said so to Tuchkov at Smolensk). From that point of view he gazed at the Oriental beauty he had not seen before. It seemed strange to him that his long-felt wish, which had seemed unattainable, had at last been realized. In the clear morning light he gazed now at the city and now at the plan, considering its details, and the assurance of possessing it agitated 14 and awed 15 him.
“But could it be otherwise?” he thought. “Here is this capital at my feet. Where is Alexander now, and of what is he thinking? A strange, beautiful, and majestic 16 city; and a strange and majestic moment! In what light must I appear to them!” thought he, thinking of his troops. “Here she is, the reward for all those fainthearted men,” he reflected, glancing at those near him and at the troops who were approaching and forming up. “One word from me, one movement of my hand, and that ancient capital of the Tsars would perish. But my clemency 17 is always ready to descend 18 upon the vanquished 19. I must be magnanimous and truly great. But no, it can’t be true that I am in Moscow,” he suddenly thought. “Yet here she is lying at my feet, with her golden domes 20 and crosses scintillating 21 and twinkling in the sunshine. But I shall spare her. On the ancient monuments of barbarism and despotism I will inscribe 22 great words of justice and mercy. . . . It is just this which Alexander will feel most painfully, I know him.” (It seemed to Napoleon that the chief import of what was taking place lay in the personal struggle between himself and Alexander.) “From the height of the Kremlin — yes, there is the Kremlin, yes — I will give them just laws; I will teach them the meaning of true civilization, I will make generations of boyars remember their conqueror 23 with love. I will tell the deputation that I did not, and do not, desire war, that I have waged war only against the false policy of their court; that I love and respect Alexander and that in Moscow I will accept terms of peace worthy 24 of myself and of my people. I do not wish to utilize 25 the fortunes of war to humiliate 26 an honored monarch 27. ‘Boyars,’ I will say to them, ‘I do not desire war, I desire the peace and welfare of all my subjects.’ However, I know their presence will inspire me, and I shall speak to them as I always do: clearly, impressively, and majestically 28. But can it be true that I am in Moscow? Yes, there she lies.”
“Qu’on m’amene les boyars,”* — * “Bring the boyars to me.” said he to his suite 29.
A general with a brilliant suite galloped 30 off at once to fetch the boyars.
Two hours passed. Napoleon had lunched and was again standing in the same place on the Poklonny Hill awaiting the deputation. His speech to the boyars had already taken definite shape in his imagination. That speech was full of dignity and greatness as Napoleon understood it.
He was himself carried away by the tone of magnanimity he intended to adopt toward Moscow. In his imagination he appointed days for assemblies at the palace of the Tsars, at which Russian notables and his own would mingle 31. He mentally appointed a governor, one who would win the hearts of the people. Having learned that there were many charitable institutions in Moscow he mentally decided 32 that he would shower favors on them all. He thought that, as in Africa he had to put on a burnoose and sit in a mosque 33, so in Moscow he must be beneficent like the Tsars. And in order finally to touch the hearts of the Russians — and being like all Frenchmen unable to imagine anything sentimental 34 without a reference to ma chere, ma tendre, ma pauvre mere* — he decided that he would place an inscription 35 on all these establishments in large letters: “This establishment is dedicated 36 to my dear mother.” Or no, it should be simply: Maison de ma Mere,† he concluded. “But am I really in Moscow? Yes, here it lies before me, but why is the deputation from the city so long in appearing?” he wondered.
* “My dear, my tender, my poor mother.”
† “House of my Mother.”
Meanwhile an agitated consultation 37 was being carried on in whispers among his generals and marshals at the rear of his suite. Those sent to fetch the deputation had returned with the news that Moscow was empty, that everyone had left it. The faces of those who were not conferring together were pale and perturbed 38. They were not alarmed by the fact that Moscow had been abandoned by its inhabitants (grave as that fact seemed), but by the question how to tell the Emperor — without putting him in the terrible position of appearing ridiculous — that he had been awaiting the boyars so long in vain: that there were drunken mobs left in Moscow but no one else. Some said that a deputation of some sort must be scraped together, others disputed that opinion and maintained that the Emperor should first be carefully and skillfully prepared, and then told the truth.
“He will have to be told, all the same,” said some gentlemen of the suite. “But, gentlemen . . . ”
The position was the more awkward because the Emperor, meditating 39 upon his magnanimous plans, was pacing patiently up and down before the outspread map, occasionally glancing along the road to Moscow from under his lifted hand with a bright and proud smile.
“But it’s impossible . . . ” declared the gentlemen of the suite, shrugging their shoulders but not venturing to utter the implied word — le ridicule 40 . . .
At last the Emperor, tired of futile 41 expectation, his actor’s instinct suggesting to him that the sublime 42 moment having been too long drawn 43 out was beginning to lose its sublimity 44, gave a sign with his hand. A single report of a signaling gun followed, and the troops, who were already spread out on different sides of Moscow, moved into the city through Tver, Kaluga, and Dorogomilov gates. Faster and faster, vying 45 with one another, they moved at the double or at a trot 46, vanishing amid the clouds of dust they raised and making the air ring with a deafening 47 roar of mingling 48 shouts.
Drawn on by the movement of his troops Napoleon rode with them as far as the Dorogomilov gate, but there again stopped and, dismounting from his horse, paced for a long time by the Kammer-Kollezski rampart, awaiting the deputation.