ON THE 25TH of August, on the eve of the battle of Borodino, the prefect of the French Emperor's palace, M. de Beausset, and Colonel Fabvier, arrived, the former from Paris, and the latter from Madrid, at Napoleon's encampment at Valuev.
After changing into a court uniform M. de Beausset ordered the package he had brought for the Emperor to be carried before him, and walked into the first compartment of Napoleon's tent, where he busied himself while conversing with the aides-de-camp in unpacking the box.
Fabvier stood talking with generals of his acquaintance in the entrance of the tent.
The Emperor Napoleon had not yet left his bedroom, he was finishing his toilet. With snorts and grunts of satisfaction, he was turning first his stout back and then his plump, hirsute chest towards the flesh-brush with which a valet was rubbing him down. Another valet, holding a bottle with one finger on it, was sprinkling eau de cologne on the Emperor's pampered person with an expression which seemed to say that he alone knew where and how much eau de cologne must be sprinkled. Napoleon's short hair was wet and matted on his brow. But his face, though puffy and yellow, expressed physical satisfaction.
“Go on, hard, go on …” he said, shrugging and clearing his throat, to the valet brushing him. An adjutant, who had come into the bedroom to report to the Emperor the number of prisoners taken in the last engagement, was standing at the door, after giving his message, awaiting permission to withdraw. Napoleon, frowning, glanced up from under his brows at the adjutant. “No prisoners,” he repeated the adjutant's words. “They are working their own destruction. So much the worse for the Russian army,” said he. “Harder, brush harder,” he said, hunching his fat shoulders before the valet. “Good. Let Beausset come in and Fabvier too,” he said to the adjutant, nodding.
“I obey, sire,” and the adjutant disappeared.
The two valets rapidly dressed his majesty, and in the blue uniform of the guards he walked into the reception-room with firm, rapid steps.
Beausset meanwhile was in great haste setting up the present he had brought from the Empress on two chairs just before the Emperor as he entered. But the Emperor had been so unaccountably rapid over getting dressed and coming in that he had not time to have the surprise ready for him.
Napoleon at once noticed what they were about, and guessed they were not ready. He did not want to deprive them of the pleasure of preparing an agreeable surprise for him. He pretended not to see M. de Beausset, and beckoned Fabvier to him. Napoleon, frowning sternly, listened in silence to what Fabvier was saying of the gallantry and devotion of his army, fighting before Salamanca, at the other end of Europe; they had, he said, but one dream—to be worthy of their Emperor, and one fear—to displease him. The result of the battle had been disastrous. Napoleon made ironical remarks during Fabvier's account of it, as though he had not expected it to be otherwise in his absence.
“I must make up for it at Moscow,” said Napoleon. “A tant?t,” he added, and summoned Beausset, who had by this time succeeded in preparing his effect, had stood something on the chairs and thrown a cover over it.
Beausset made a courtier's low bow, such as only the old retainers of the Bourbons knew how to make, and approached him, handing him a letter.
Napoleon addressed him gaily and pinched him by the ear.
“You have been quick, delighted to see you. Well, what is Paris saying?” he said, his look of sternness suddenly changing to the most cordial expression.
“Sire, all Paris is regretting your absence,” answered Beausset, as in duty bound. But though Napoleon knew Beausset was bound to say this or something like it, though at his lucid moments he knew it was all false, he was glad to hear this from him. He condescended to pinch his ear again.
“I am very sorry to have made you to travel so far,” he said.
“Sire, I expected to find you at least at the gates of Moscow,” said Beausset.
Napoleon smiled, and lifting his head absently looked round to the right. An adjutant approached obsequiously with a gold snuffbox and offered it. Napoleon took it.
“Yes, it's a happy chance for you,” he said, putting the open snuffbox to his nose. “You are fond of travelling, and in three days you will see Moscow. You probably did not expect to see the Asiatic capital. You will have a delightful journey.”
Beausset bowed with gratitude for this interest in his tastes for travel (of which he had till that moment been unaware).
“Ah! what's this?” said Napoleon, observing that all the courtiers were gazing at something concealed under a covering. Beausset with courtier-like agility retired two steps with a half turn, not showing his back, and at the same moment twitched off the covering, saying: “A present to your majesty from the Empress.”
It was a portrait, painted in brilliant colours by Gérard, of the child of Napoleon and the daughter of the Austrian Emperor, the little boy whom every one for some unknown reason called the King of Rome.
The very pretty, curly-headed child, with eyes like the Christ with the Sistine Madonna, had been portrayed playing cup and ball. The ball represented the terrestrial globe and the cup in the other hand was a sceptre.
Though it was not altogether clear what the painter had intended to express by representing the so-called King of Rome tossing the terrestrial globe on a sceptre, the allegory apparently seemed to Napoleon, as it had to every one who had seen it in Paris, quite clear and extremely pleasing.
“The King of Rome!” he said, pointing with a graceful gesture to the portrait. “Admirable!” With the characteristic Italian facility for changing his expression at will, he went up to the portrait and assumed an air of pensive tenderness. He felt that what he might say or do at that moment would be historical. And it struck him that the best line he could take at that moment, at the height of his grandeur—so great that his child was playing cup and ball with the earth—would be to display, in contrast with that grandeur, the simplest, fatherly tenderness. His eyes were veiled by emotion; he moved up, looked round for a chair (a chair seemed to spring up under him), and sat down, facing the portrait. At a single gesture from him all withdrew on tip-toe, leaving the great man to himself and his feelings. After sitting there a little while and passing his fingers, he could not have said why, over the rough surface of the painting, he got up and again sent for Beausset and the officer on duty. He gave orders for the portrait to be carried out in front of his tent, so that the Old Guard, standing about his tent, might not be deprived of the happiness of seeing the King of Rome, the son and heir of their adored Emperor.
While he sat at breakfast with M. de Beausset—whom he had honoured by an invitation to join him—he heard, as he had expected, enthusiastic shouts from the soldiers and officers of the Old Guard, who had run up to see the portrait.
“Vive l'Empereur! Vive le roi de Rome! Vive l'Empereur!” shouted enthusiastic voices.
After breakfast, in Beausset's presence, Napoleon dictated his proclamation to the army.
“Courte et énergique!” Napoleon pronounced it, when he had read over the proclamation that he had dictated straight off without corrections. It was as follows:
“Soldiers! This is the battle you have so greatly desired. Victory is in your hands. It is essential for us; it will give us everything we need: comfortable quarters and a speedy return to our own country. Behave as you behaved at Austerlitz, Friedland, Vitebsk, and Smolensk. May posterity recall with pride your achievement on this day! And may they say of each of you: he was at the great battle before Moscow!”
“Before Moscow,” repeated Napoleon, and inviting M. de Beausset, so fond of travel, to accompany him on his ride, he went out of the tent to the saddled horses awaiting them outside.
“Your majesty is too kind,” said Beausset, in response to the invitation to accompany the Emperor. He was very sleepy. He could not ride well, and was afraid of horses.
But Napoleon nodded to the traveller, and Beausset had to mount. When Napoleon came out of the tent the shouts of the Guards before his son's portrait were redoubled. Napoleon frowned.
“Take him away,” he said, with a gracefully majestic gesture, pointing to the portrait. “It is too early yet for him to look upon the field of battle.”
Beausset, dropping his eyelids, and bowing his head, heaved a deep sigh, to testify how well he was able to appreciate and comprehend the Emperor's words.
八月二十五日，波罗底诺战役的前夜，法国皇宫长官德波塞先生和法布维埃上校前来拿破仑在瓦卢耶瓦的驻地觐见他们的皇帝，前者从巴黎来，后者从马德里来。
德波塞先生换上朝服，吩咐把他带给皇帝的礼盒在他前面抬着走，进了拿破仑的帐篷的头一个房间，他一面同他周围的拿破仑的副官谈话，一面打开礼盒。
法布维埃没进帐篷，在门口跟他认识的将军们谈话。
拿破仑皇帝还没有从卧室出来，正在结束他的打扮。他哼哧着鼻子，清清嗓子，时而转过他那肥厚的背脊，时而转过多毛的肥胖的胸脯，让近侍刷他的身体。另一个近侍用大拇指按住瓶口，正向皇帝那保养得很好的身体喷香水。近侍的神情好像说，只有他一个人知道应当在什么地方洒和洒多少香水。拿破仑的短发还是湿的，散乱在额前。他的脸虽浮肿，焦黄，但表现出生理上的满足。“Allez ferme，allez toujours……”①他蜷缩着身子，发出哼哼歪歪的声音，不时对那个正给他刷身子的近侍轻声说。一个副官走进卧室，向皇帝报告昨天在战场上抓了多少俘虏，他报告完后，就站在门旁，等候让他退出去，拿破仑皱着眉头，翻眼看了看副官。
“Point de prisonniers，”他重复副官的话。“Il se font démolir Tant pis pour lármée russe，”他说“Allez toujours，Allez ferme．”②他一面说，一面拱着背，移近他那肥胖的肩膀给人刷。
“C'est bien！Faites entren monsieur de BeausBset，ainsi que Fa－bvier．”③他对那个副官点点头，说。
“Qui，Sire．”④那个副官走出了帐篷。
①法语：再来，使点劲刷。
②法语：没有俘虏，他们逼我歼灭他们。这对俄军更坏，再来，再使点劲。
③法语：好了！让德波塞进来，法布维埃也进来。
④法语：是，陛下。
两个近侍连忙给陛下穿好衣服，于是他穿着近卫军的蓝制服，迈着坚定而急速的步子，走进接待室。
这时德波塞两只手正忙着把他带来的皇后送的礼物安放在正对着皇帝进门的地方的两把椅子上。不料皇帝这么快就穿好衣服走了出来，以致他来不及完全布置好这一惊人的场面。
拿破仑立刻看出他们在做什么，并且猜出他们还没有做好。他不希望他们失掉使他惊喜的快乐。他装着没看见德波塞先生。只把法布维埃叫过来。拿破仑严厉地皱着眉头，默默地听法布维埃讲述他的军队在欧洲的另一端萨拉曼卡作战怎样勇敢、怎样忠诚，只想不辜负他们的皇帝，唯恐不能讨他欢心。那场战争的结束是可悲的。拿破仑在法布维埃报告的中间插了几句讽刺的话，好像没有他在那儿，他并不期望事情会有别样的结果。
“我一定在莫斯科挽回影响，”拿破仑说。“A tantot，”①他又说，把德波塞叫来，德波塞这时已经布置好令人惊讶的场面——把什么东西放在两把椅子上，用一块布盖着。
德波塞用那只有波旁王朝的旧臣才懂得的礼节，深施一礼，走向前去递是一封信。
拿破仑愉快地接见他，揪了揪他的耳朵。
“您赶来了，我非常高兴。巴黎有什么议论吗？”他说，突然改变了刚才那副严厉的表情，换上了一副和蔼可亲的样子。
“Sire，tout Paris regrette votre absence．”②德波塞照例这样回答，虽然拿破仑知道德波塞一定要说这一类话，虽然他在头脑清醒时知道这是不真实的，但是听了德波塞的话他仍然觉得高兴。他又揪了揪他的耳朵以示赏赐。
“Je suis faAché de vous avoir fait faire tant de chemin．”③他说。
“Sire！Je ne m'attendais pas à moins qu'à vous trouver aux portes de Moscou．”④德波塞说。
①法语：再见。
②法语：陛下，全巴黎都在想念您呢。
③法语：让您走这么远，很抱歉。
④法语：陛下！我完全料到会在莫斯科城下见到您。
拿破仑微笑了一下，心不在焉地抬头向右边看了看。副官摇摆着步子走过来，递给他一个金质的鼻烟壶。拿破仑接了过来。
“是的，您来得巧，”他说，把打开的鼻烟壶移近鼻子，“您喜欢旅行，三天后您就可以在莫斯科观光了。您大概没料到会看见亚洲的首府。您可以作一次愉快的旅行了。”
德波塞鞠了一躬，对此关心表示了谢意（他自己也不知道他有旅行的爱好）。
“啊！这是什么？”拿破仑说，他发现所有的大臣都在看一件用布盖着的东西。德波塞以其宫廷式的灵巧，不把背对着皇帝，侧着身子倒退两步，同时揭开了那块布，说：
“皇后献给陛下的礼物。”
这是日拉尔①用鲜明的色彩画的一幅孩子的肖像，这是奥国公主为拿破仑生的儿子，不知为什么人们都管这个孩子叫罗马王。
这个非常俊秀的，鬈发，眼睛都具有西克斯丁圣母像中基督的神态的孩子，正在玩一个球。球代表地球，另一只手中的小棒代表权杖。
虽然对画家画这个所谓罗马王用小棍捅地球要表现什么不十分了解，但其寓意，不论是在巴黎看见这幅画的所有人，还是拿破仑本人，都是清楚的，而且觉得非常称心。
“Roi de Rome，”②他用优美的手势指着画像，说。
①日拉尔·弗朗索瓦（1770～1837），法国古典主义运动后期著名肖像画家，曾为鲁卡米埃夫人画像。
②法语：罗马王。
“Admira－ble！”①他走到肖像跟前，以意大利人特有的可以随意变换表情的本领，做出含情沉思的神态。他觉得，他现在一言一行都将成为历史。他觉得他现在最好的做法是：就算是自己的伟大足以使儿子玩耍地球，而与此相照应，他又要表现父亲的慈爱。他的眼睛模糊了，他向前跨了一步，回头看了一眼那把椅子（椅子好像自动跳到了他的身旁），在肖像前坐下。他打了个手势——于是所有的人都踮着脚尖走出去了，让这位大人物独自在那儿欣赏。
他坐了一会儿，自己也不知为什么，用手摸了摸画像凸起发亮的地方。他站起身，又把德波塞和值日官叫来。他命令把肖像移到帐篷前，让那些在他帐篷附近守卫的老近卫军人有欣赏罗马王——他们所崇拜的皇帝的儿子（继承人）的幸福。
果然不出他所料，在他赏赐德波塞先生以荣幸——与他共进早餐的时候，传来了帐篷外那些跑来看画像的老近卫军官兵们的欢呼声：
“Vire I'empereur！Vire le Roi de Rome！Vive I'empereur！”②听见一片欢呼声。
早餐后，拿破仑当着德波塞的面上授给军队发布的告示。
“Courte et énergique！③”拿破仑在读完他那无须修改的告示时说。告示如下：
①法语：好极②法语：皇帝万岁！罗马王万岁！皇帝万岁！
③法语：简短有力。
“战士们！这是你们盼望已久的战斗。胜利寄托在你们身上。我们一定要取胜；胜利能给我们带来一切需要的东西：舒适的住宅，早日返回祖国。希望你们要像在奥斯特利茨、弗里德兰、维捷布斯克和斯摩棱斯克那样战斗。让我们的子孙后代自豪地回忆你们今天的丰功伟绩。让他们在提到你们每一个人时都说：他参加过莫斯科城下大战！”
“De la Moskowa！”①拿破仑重复了一遍，然后邀请爱旅行的德波塞先生去散步，他走出帐篷，走向已备好的马。
“Votre Majesté a trop de bonté。”②德波塞在应邀陪皇帝散步时说。其实他很想睡觉，而且他不会骑马，也怕骑马。
①法语：莫斯科城下。
②法语：您太仁慈了，陛下。
但是拿破仑向这位旅行家点头示意，德波塞只得骑马了。当拿破仑走出帐篷时，近卫军人在他儿子画像前的喊声更起劲了，拿破仑皱起了眉头。
“把它拿开吧。”他用优美庄严的姿势指着画像说。“参观战场在他看来还太早。”
德波塞闭上眼睛，低下头，深深叹息了一声，表示他对皇帝的话完全领会和理解。
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