Book 2 Chapter 10

PRINCE ANDREY stayed at Br?nn with a Russian of his acquaintance in the diplomatic service, Bilibin.

“Ah, my dear prince, there's no one I could have been more pleased to see,” said Bilibin, coming to meet Prince Andrey. “Franz, take the prince's things to my bedroom,” he said to the servant, who was ushering Bolkonsky in. “What, a messenger of victory? That's capital. I'm kept indoors ill, as you see.”

After washing and dressing, Prince Andrey came into the diplomat's luxurious study and sat down to the dinner prepared for him. Bilibin was sitting quietly at the fireplace.

Not his journey only, but all the time he had spent with the army on the march, deprived of all the conveniences of cleanliness and the elegancies of life, made Prince Andrey feel now an agreeable sense of repose among the luxurious surroundings to which he had been accustomed from childhood. Moreover, after his Austrian reception, he was glad to speak—if not in Russian, for they talked French—at least to a Russian, who would, he imagined, share the general Russian dislike (which he felt particularly keenly just then) for the Austrians.

Bilibin was a man of five-and-thirty, a bachelor, of the same circle as Prince Andrey. They had been acquainted in Petersburg, but had become more intimate during Prince Andrey's last stay at Vienna with Kutuzov. Just as Prince Andrey was a young man, who promised to rise high in a military career, Bilibin promised to do even better in diplomacy. He was still a young man, but not a young diplomat, as he had been in the service since he was sixteen. He had been in Paris and in Copenhagen; and now in Vienna he filled a post of considerable importance. Both the foreign minister and our ambassador at Vienna knew him and valued him. He was not one of that great multitude of diplomats whose qualification is limited to the possession of negative qualities, who need simply avoid doing certain things and speak French in order to be very good diplomats. He was one of those diplomats who like work and understand it, and in spite of his natural indolence, he often spent nights at his writing-table. He worked equally well whatever the object of his work might be. He was interested not in the question “Why?” but in the question “How?” What constituted his diplomatic work, he did not mind, but to draw up a circular, a memorandum, or a report subtly, pointedly, and elegantly, was a task which gave him great pleasure. Apart from such labours, Bilibin's merits were esteemed the more from his ease in moving and talking in the higher spheres.

Bilibin enjoyed conversation just as he enjoyed work, only when the conversation could be elegantly witty. In society he was continually watching for an opportunity of saying something striking, and did not enter into conversation except under such circumstances. Bilibin's conversation was continually sprinkled with original, epigrammatic, polished phrases of general interest. These phrases were fashioned in the inner laboratory of Bilibin's mind, as though intentionally, of portable form, so that insignificant persons could easily remember them and carry them from drawing-room to drawing-room. And Bilibin's good things were hawked about in Viennese drawing-rooms and afterwards had an influence on so-called great events.

His thin, lean, yellow face was all covered with deep creases, which always looked as clean and carefully washed as the tips of one's fingers after a bath. The movement of these wrinkles made up the chief play of expression of his countenance. At one moment his forehead wrinkled up in broad furrows, and his eyebrows were lifted, at another moment his eyebrows drooped again and deep lines creased his cheeks. His deep-set, small eyes looked out frankly and good-humouredly.

“Come, now, tell us about your victories,” he said. Bolkonsky in the most modest fashion, without once mentioning himself in connection with it, described the engagement, and afterwards his reception by the war minister.

“They received me and my news like a dog in a game of skittles,” he concluded.

Bilibin grinned, and the creases in his face disappeared.

“All the same, my dear fellow,” he said, gazing from a distance at his finger-nails, and wrinkling up the skin over his left eye, “notwithstanding my high esteem for the holy Russian armament, I own that your victory is not so remarkably victorious.”

He went on talking in French, only uttering in Russian those words to which he wished to give a contemptuous intonation.

“Why? with the whole mass of your army you fell upon the unlucky Mortier with one division, and Mortier slipped through your fingers? Where's the victory?”

“Seriously speaking, though,” answered Prince Andrey, “we can at least say without boasting that it's rather better than Ulm…”

“Why didn't you capture us one, at least, one marshal?”

“Because everything isn't done as one expects it will be, and things are not as regular as on parade. We had expected, as I told you, to attack the enemy in the rear at seven o'clock in the morning, but we did not arrive at it until five o'clock in the evening.”

“But why didn't you do it at seven in the morning? You ought to have done it at seven in the morning,” said Bilibin, smiling; “you ought to have done it at seven in the morning.”

“Why didn't you succeed in impressing on Bonaparte by diplomatic methods that he had better leave Genoa alone?” said Prince Andrey in the same tone.

“I know,” broke in Bilibin, “you are thinking that it's very easy to capture marshals, sitting on the sofa by one's fireside. That's true, but still why didn't you capture him? And you needn't feel surprised if the most august Emperor and King Francis, like the war minister, is not very jubilant over your victory. Why, even I, a poor secretary of the Russian Embassy, feel no necessity to testify my rejoicing by giving my Franz a thaler and sending him out for a holiday to disport himself with his Liebchen on the Prater…though it's true there is no Prater here…” He looked straight at Prince Andrey and suddenly let the creases drop out of his puckered forehead.

“Now it's my turn to ask you ‘why,' my dear boy,” said Bolkonsky. “I must own that I don't understand it; perhaps there are diplomatic subtleties in it that are beyond my feeble intellect; but I can't make it out. Mack loses a whole army, Archduke Ferdinand and Archduke Karl give no sign of life and make one blunder after another; Kutuzov alone gains at last a decisive victory, breaks the prestige of invincibility of the French, and the minister of war does not even care to learn the details!”

“For that very reason, my dear boy, don't you see! Hurrah for the Tsar, for Russia, for the faith! That's all very nice; but what have we, I mean the Austrian court, to do with your victories? You bring us good news of a victory of Archduke Karl or Ferdinand—one archduke's as good as the other, as you know—if it's only a victory over a fire brigade of Bonaparte, and it will be another matter, it will set the cannons booming. But this can only tantalise us, as if it were done on purpose. Archduke Karl does nothing, Archduke Ferdinand covers himself with disgrace, you abandon Vienna, give up its defence, as though you would say to us, God is with us, and the devil take you and your capital. One general, whom we all loved, Schmidt, you put in the way of a bullet, and then congratulate us on your victory!…You must admit that anything more exasperating than the news you have brought could not be conceived. It's as though it were done on purpose, done on purpose. But apart from that, if you were to gain a really brilliant victory, if Archduke Karl even were to win a victory, what effect could it have on the general course of events? It's too late now, when Vienna is occupied by the French forces.”

“Occupied? Vienna occupied?”

“Not only is Vienna occupied, but Bonaparte is at Sch?nbrunn, and the count—our dear Count Urbna—is setting off to receive his orders.”

After the fatigues and impressions of his journey and his reception, and even more after the dinner he had just eaten, Bolkonsky felt that he could not take in all the significance of the words he had just heard.

“Count Lichtenfels was here this morning,” pursued Bilibin, “and he showed me a letter containing a full description of the parade of the French at Vienna. Prince Murat and all the rest of it … You see that your victory is not a great matter for rejoicing, and that you can't be received as our deliverer…”

“Really, I don't care about that, I don't care in the slightest!” said Prince Andrey, beginning to understand that his news of the battle before Krems was really of little importance in view of such an event as the taking of the capital of Austria. “How was Vienna taken? And its bridge and its famous fortifications, and Prince Auersperg? We heard rumours that Prince Auersperg was defending Vienna,” said he.

“Prince Auersperg is stationed on this side—our side—and is defending us; defending us very ineffectually, I imagine, but any way he is defending us. But Vienna's on the other side of the river. No, the bridge has not been taken, and I hope it won't be taken, because it is mined and orders have been given to blow it up. If it were not so, we should have long ago been in the mountains of Bohemia, and you and your army would have spent a bad quarter of an hour between two fires.”

“But still that doesn't mean that the campaign is over,” said Prince Andrey.

“But I believe that it is over. And so do all the big-wigs here, though they don't dare to say so. It will be as I said at the beginning of the campaign, that the matter will not be settled by your firing before D?renstein, not by gunpowder, but by those who invented it,” said Bilibin, repeating one of his mots, letting the creases run out of his forehead and pausing. “The only question is what the meeting of the Emperor Alexander and the Prussian king may bring forth. If Prussia enters the alliance, they will force Austria's hand and there will be war. If not, the only point will be to arrange where to draw up the articles of the new Campo Formio.”

“But what an extraordinary genius!” cried Prince Andrey suddenly, clenching his small hand and bringing it down on the table. “And what luck the man has!”

“Buonaparte?” said Bilibin interrogatively, puckering up his forehead and so intimating that a mot was coming. “Buonaparte?” he said, with special stress on the u. “I think, though, that now when he is dictating laws to Austria from Sch?nbrunn, we must let him off the u. I shall certainly adopt the innovation, and call him simply Bonaparte.”

“No, joking apart,” said Prince Andrey, “do you really believe the campaign is over?”

“I'll tell you what I think. Austria has been made a fool of, and she is not used to that. And she'll avenge it. And she has been made a fool of because in the first place her provinces have been pillaged (they say the Holy Russian armament is plundering them cruelly), her army has been destroyed, her capital has been taken, and all this for the sweet sake of his Sardinian Majesty. And so between ourselves, my dear boy, my instinct tells me we are being deceived; my instinct tells me of negotiations with France and projects of peace, a secret peace, concluded separately.”

“Impossible!” said Prince Andrey. “That would be too base.”

“Time will show,” said Bilibin, letting the creases run off his forehead again in token of being done with the subject.

When Prince Andrey went to the room that had been prepared for him, and lay down in the clean linen on the feather-bed and warmed and fragrant pillows, he felt as though the battle of which he brought tidings was far, far away from him. The Prussian alliance, the treachery of Austria, the new triumph of Bonaparte, the levée and parade and the audience of Emperor Francis next day, engrossed his attention. He closed his eyes and instantly his ears were ringing with the cannonade, the firing of muskets, and the creaking of wheels, and again he saw the long line of musketeers running down-hill and the French firing, and he felt his heart beating and saw himself galloping in front of the lines with Schmidt, and, the bullets whizzing merrily around him; and he knew that sense of intensified joy in living that he had not experienced since childhood. He waked up.

“Yes, that all happened!”…he said, with a happy, childlike smile to himself. And he fell into the deep sleep of youth.

安德烈公爵在布吕恩的一个相识——俄国外交官比利宾那里住下来。

“啊，亲爱的公爵，没有比看见您这位客人更令人高兴的事，”比利宾出去迎接安德烈公爵时说道。“弗朗茨，把公爵的东西送到我的卧室中去！”他把脸转向伴随博尔孔斯基的仆人说，“怎么，是报送胜利消息的人吗？好极了。您看，我正害病哩。”

安德烈公爵盥洗、穿衣之后，便走进外交官的豪华的书斋，坐下来，他面前摆着做好的午餐。比利宾安闲地坐在壁炉旁。

安德烈公爵不仅在旅行之后，而且在他丧失一切舒适、洁净和优越的生活条件的行军之后，他体会到自从童年时代以来他就在这个已经习惯的奢侈生活环境中休息时所体会的那种心旷神怡的感觉。除此而外，他在受到奥国人的接待后，能够和一个俄国人谈话，即使不说俄国话（他们用法国话交谈），也感到愉快；因为他认为这个交谈者也怀有俄国人对奥国人的共同的厌恶之感（现在特别强烈地被他体会到的厌恶之感）。

比利宾三十五岁左右，未娶妻，他和安德烈公爵属于同一个上流社会。他们早在彼得堡就已相识，但在安德烈公爵随同库图佐夫抵达维也纳时，他们的交往就更密切了。如果说，安德烈公爵年轻，并且在军事舞台会有远大前途，那末比利宾在外交舞台的前途就更远大了。他还年轻，而他已经不是年轻的外交官了，因为他从十六岁那年起就开始任职，曾经留驻巴黎、哥本哈根。目下在维也纳担任相当重要的职务。首相和我国驻维也纳大使都认识他，而且重视他。他独树一帜，不属于多数外交家之列，他们为了要成为至为优秀的外交官员，就需具备一些消极的优点，不做某些不该做的事情，而要会说一口法语。虽然有一些外交官秉性懒惰，但是他们热爱工作，而且善于工作，他们有时候坐在办公桌旁一连熬上几个通宵，比利宾属于这些外交官之列。无论工作的实质何在，他都干得很出色。他所关注的不是“为什么要干”的问题，而是“怎样干”的问题。外交上的事务是什么，他满不在乎。他认为，熟练地雅致而妥当地草拟通令、备忘录或报告才是他的莫大的乐趣。比利宾的功绩受到珍视，除了笔头工作而外，他还擅长在上层社会致词和交际。

只是在交谈的人说说文雅的俏皮话的时候，比利宾才像喜爱工作那样喜爱谈话。在上流社会，他经常等候机会去说句什么动听的话，而且只是在这种环境中他才与人攀谈。比利宾谈起话来，经常在话中夹杂许多奇特古怪的俏皮话，而在结束时总要加上几句大家都感兴趣的漂亮话。这些漂亮话仿佛是在比利宾的内在的创作活动中故意编造出来的，具有独特的性质，而其目的在于便于卑微庸俗的上流社会人士记忆并在客厅中广泛流行。真的，lesmotsdeBilibinesecolporBtaientdanslessalonsdeVienne①，据说，常对所谓的重大国事产生影响。

①法语：比利宾的评论在维也纳的客厅中广为流传。

他那消瘦的、略带黄色的脸上布满了宽宽的皱纹，这些皱纹和洗完澡之后的指头尖一般总是细心地洗得干干净净的。这些皱纹的活动构成他面部表情的主要变化。他时而竖起眉尖，额头上就露出宽宽的皱褶，时而把眉尖向下低垂，面颊上就形成宽宽的皱纹。一对深陷的小眼睛总是快活地向前直视着。

“喂，现在给我们讲讲你们的战功吧。”他说道。博尔孔斯基一次也没有提到他自己，他很谦虚地讲到前方的战况和军政大臣接待他的情形。

“Ilsm'ontrecuavecmanouvelle，commeunchiendansunjeudequilles．”①他说了一句收尾的话。

比利宾苦笑一阵，舒展开脸皮上的皱褶。

“Cependant，moncher，”他说道，一面远远地察看自己的指甲，一面皱起左眼以上的皮肤，“malgrelahauteestimequejepsofessepourle东正教的俄国战士们，j'avouequevotrevictoiren'estpasdesplusvictorieuses．”②

①法语：他们像对待跑进九柱戏场地的狗那样接待我这个报送消息的人。

②法语：我亲爱的，虽然我十分尊敬东正教的俄国战士们，但是我认为，你们的胜利不是最辉煌的。

他用法国话继续说下去，他想轻蔑地加以强调的那些词才用俄国话说出来。

“可不是？你们仗着全军人马猛烈地攻打只有一师人的很不幸的莫蒂埃，这个莫蒂埃竟从你们手中逃跑了？哪能算什么胜利呢？”

“但是，严格地说，”安德烈公爵答道，“我们还可以不吹牛地说，这总比乌尔姆战役略胜一筹……”

“你们为什么不给我们俘获一个元帅呢？即使是一个也行。”

“因为不是一切事情都能按计划办成，也不能像检阅那样定期举行。正像我对您说的，我以为早上七点以前能迂回走到敌人后方，可是在下午五点以前还没有走到。”

“你们为什么不在早上七点钟以前走到呢？你们应当在早上七点钟以前走到，”比利宾面露微笑地说道，“应当在早上七点钟走到。”

“你们为什么不用外交手腕开导波拿巴，要他最好放弃热那亚呢？”安德烈公爵用同样的语调说道。

“我知道，”比利宾打断他的话，“您坐在壁炉前的沙发上，心中在想，抓住元帅是很容易的事。这没有错，可是你们究竟为什么没有把他抓住呢？您不要诧异，不仅军政大臣，而且至圣的皇帝弗朗茨陛下对你们的胜利都不会感到非常高兴，就连我这个不幸的俄国使馆的秘书也不觉得这有什么特别高兴的……”

他双眼直勾勾地望望安德烈公爵，忽然舒展开前额上绷紧的皮肤。

“我亲爱的，现在轮到我来问问您‘为什么'？”博尔孔斯基说道，“我向您承认，我也许并不明白，这里头会有什么超出我这贫乏智慧的外交上的微妙之处，但是我也弄不明白，马克丧失了全军人马，费迪南大公和卡尔大公奄奄待毙，毫无生气，而且接一连二地做出错事，只有库图佐夫终于赢得了真正的胜利，粉碎了法国人的Chavme①，而军政大臣甚至不想知道详细的战况哩！”

“我亲爱的，正是因为这个缘故。Voyez－vous，monchesB．②乌拉！为了沙皇，为了俄国，为了信仰！Toutcaestbeletbon③，但是，我说你们的胜利对我们、对奥国朝廷有什么关系？你们替我们带来卡尔大公或者费迪南大公赢得胜利的好消息吧。正像您所知道的，unarchiduevautl'autre④，打垮波拿巴的消防队也好哩，不过那是另一码事，而我们到那时一定要鸣炮示意。其实这只像是故意招惹我们似的。卡尔大公毫无作为，费迪南大公蒙受耻辱。你们在放弃维也纳，不再去保卫它了，commesivousnousdisiez⑤，上帝保佑我们，上帝也保佑你们和你们的首都。一位我们人人热爱的施米持将军：你们竟让他死在枪弹之下，现在反而要庆贺我们的胜利啦！……您赞同我们的看法吧，再也没想出比您带来的消息更令人气愤的事了。C'estcommeunfaitexprès，commeunfaitexprès⑥．此外，嗯，即使你们赢得辉煌的胜利，就连卡尔大公也赢得胜利，这就会改变整个军事行动的进程吧？维也纳已被法国军队占领，现在为时太晚了。”

①法语：战无不胜的誓言。

②法语：您要明白。

③法语：这一切都好极了。

④法语：这个大公顶得上那个大公。

⑤法语：你们好像是对我们说的。

⑥法语：这好像有意作对似的，有意作对似的。

“怎么已被占领了？维也纳已被占领了？”

“不仅被占领，而且波拿巴正待在申布鲁恩宫。伯爵，我们可爱的伯爵弗尔布纳已动身前往波拿巴处乞求指示了。”

博尔孔斯基在旅途劳累之后，印象犹新，在领受接待之后，尤其是在午宴之后他觉得，他弄不明白他所听到的这番话的全部意义。

“今天早上利希滕费尔斯伯爵到过这里了，”比利宾继续说下去，“他把一封信拿给我看，信中详尽地描述了法国人在维也纳举行阅兵式的实况。LeprinceMuratettoutletremBblement…①您知道，你们的胜利不是令人很高兴的事，您也不会像救世主那样受到厚待……”

“说实在的，我是无所谓的，完全无所谓的啊！”安德烈公爵说道。他开始明了，因为奥国首都已被占领，所以他所获悉的克雷姆斯城郊一战的消息就缺乏重要意义了。“维也纳怎么被占领了？那座大桥、那座举世闻名的tetedepont②，还有奥尔斯珀格公爵怎么样了？我们这里谣传，奥尔斯珀格公爵正在捍卫维也纳。”他说道。

①法语：缪拉亲王及其他……

②法语：堡垒。

“奥尔斯珀格公爵驻守在我军占领的大河这边，正在保卫我们。我认为他保卫得十分差劲，但毕竟是在保卫。维也纳在大河对岸。有一座桥还未被占领。我希望桥梁不被占领，因为桥上布满了地雷，并且下达了炸桥的命令。否则，我们老早就到波希米亚山区去了，你们随同你们的军队都要遭受到两面夹攻了。”

“但是，这还不意味，战役已经宣告结束。”安德烈公爵说道。

“我想，战役已经结束了。这里的一些大笨伯都有这种想法，但是不敢说出这句话。我在战役开始时说过的话就要兑现了，对战事起决定作用的不是你们的échauffouréedeDürenstein①，而且根本不是火药，而是那些妄图发动战争的人，”比利宾说道，把他爱用的mots②重说一遍，又一面舒展额角上皱起的皮肤，停顿一会儿，“问题只在于，亚历山大皇帝和普鲁士国王在柏林会谈的内容如何。如果普鲁士加入联盟，onforceralamainàl'Autriche③，战争就会爆发起来。若非如此，那末，问题只在于，双方议定于何地拟订新的CamBpoFormio④的初步条款。

“多么非凡的天才啊！”安德烈公爵忽然喊道，握紧他那细小的拳头，捶打着桌子，“这个人多么幸运啊！”

“Buonaparte？”⑤比利宾带着疑问的语调说道，他蹙起额头，想要人家意识到，unmot⑥就要出现了，“是波拿巴吗？”他说道，特别强调“u”的重音，“不过我以为，正当他在申布鲁恩宫制定奥国法典时，ilfautluifairvegracedel'u，⑦我要坚决地规定一项新办法，索兴称他Bonapartetoutcourt。”⑧

①法语和德语：迪伦斯坦交火。

②法语：词儿。

③法语：那就对奥国采取强制手段。

④法语：坎波福朱奥和约。

⑤法语：是波拿巴吗？

⑥法语：俏皮话。

⑦法语：就应当使他避免发出“u”音。

⑧法语：索兴称他波拿巴。

“不，甭开玩笑，”安德烈公爵说道，“您难道以为战役已经结束了吗？”

“我就是这样想的。奥国打输了，可是它不会习惯于失败的局面。它要报复的。它之所以失利，首先是因为一些省份已被摧毁（ondit，leest东正教的terriblepourlepillage①，军队被粉碎，首都被占领，这一切都是pourlesbeauxyeuxdu撒丁陛下②，其二是因为——entrenous，moncherB，③——我凭嗅觉正闻到，人家在欺骗我们，我凭嗅觉还闻到，他们和法国搭上了关系，制订了和约草案——单独缔结的秘密和约草案。”

“这不可能啊！”安德烈公爵说道，“这真是可恶极了。”

“Quivivranerra．”④比利宾说，又舒展皱起的皮肤，表示谈话结束了。

①法语：据说东正教的军队抢得很厉害。

②法语：为了撒丁陛下好看的眼睛。

③法语：我亲爱的，在我们之间说说。

④法语：过些日子，就会看清楚。

当安德烈公爵走到给他布置的房间、穿着干净的睡衣躺在绒毛褥子上、垫着香喷喷的暖和的枕头的时候，他感觉到，由他报送消息的那次战斗和他相隔很远很远了。他关心的是普鲁士联盟、奥国的变节、波拿巴的又一次大捷、明天的出朝、阅兵以及弗朗茨皇帝的接见。

他闭上眼睛，就在这一瞬间他耳鼓中响起隆隆的枪炮声和辚辚的车轮声，又看见排成一条长线的火枪兵走下山来，一群法国兵开枪射击，他于是觉得，他的心在颤栗着，他和施米特并骑向前疾驶，子弹在他四周欢快地呼啸，他体会到一种从童年起未曾体会到的生存的万分喜悦的感觉。

他醒悟了……

“是啊，这一切已是明日黄花！……”他说道，他脸上自然流露着幸福的童稚的微笑，这个年轻人于是酣然入睡了。