Book Two: 1805 - Chapter X

by Leo Tolstoy

　　Prince Andrew stayed at Brunn with Bilibin, a Russian acquaintanceof his in the diplomatic service.

　　"Ah, my dear prince! I could not have a more welcome visitor,"said Bilibin as he came out to meet Prince Andrew. "Franz, put theprince's things in my bedroom," said he to the servant who wasushering Bolkonski in. "So you're a messenger of victory, eh?Splendid! And I am sitting here ill, as you see."

　　After washing and dressing, Prince Andrew came into the diplomat'sluxurious study and sat down to the dinner prepared for him. Bilibinsettled down comfortably beside the fire.

　　After his journey and the campaign during which he had been deprivedof all the comforts of cleanliness and all the refinements of life,Prince Andrew felt a pleasant sense of repose among luxurioussurroundings such as he had been accustomed to from childhood. Besidesit was pleasant, after his reception by the Austrians, to speak if notin Russian (for they were speaking French) at least with a Russian whowould, he supposed, share the general Russian antipathy to theAustrians which was then particularly strong.

　　Bilibin was a man of thirty-five, a bachelor, and of the same circleas Prince Andrew. They had known each other previously inPetersburg, but had become more intimate when Prince Andrew was inVienna with Kutuzov. Just as Prince Andrew was a young man who gavepromise of rising high in the military profession, so to an evengreater extent Bilibin gave promise of rising in his diplomaticcareer. He still a young man but no longer a young diplomat, as he hadentered the service at the age of sixteen, had been in Paris andCopenhagen, and now held a rather important post in Vienna. Both theforeign minister and our ambassador in Vienna knew him and valued him.He was not one of those many diplomats who are esteemed because theyhave certain negative qualities, avoid doing certain things, and speakFrench. He was one of those, who, liking work, knew how to do it,and despite his indolence would sometimes spend a whole night at hiswriting table. He worked well whatever the import of his work. Itwas not the question "What for?" but the question "How?" thatinterested him. What the diplomatic matter might be he did not care,but it gave him great pleasure to prepare a circular, memorandum, orreport, skillfully, pointedly, and elegantly. Bilibin's serviceswere valued not only for what he wrote, but also for his skill indealing and conversing with those in the highest spheres.

　　Bilibin liked conversation as he liked work, only when it could bemade elegantly witty. In society he always awaited an opportunity tosay something striking and took part in a conversation only whenthat was possible. His conversation was always sprinkled withwittily original, finished phrases of general interest. Thesesayings were prepared in the inner laboratory of his mind in aportable form as if intentionally, so that insignificant societypeople might carry them from drawing room to drawing room. And, infact, Bilibin's witticisms were hawked about in the Viennese drawingrooms and often had an influence on matters considered important.

　　His thin, worn, sallow face was covered with deep wrinkles, whichalways looked as clean and well washed as the tips of one's fingersafter a Russian bath. The movement of these wrinkles formed theprincipal play of expression on his face. Now his forehead wouldpucker into deep folds and his eyebrows were lifted, then his eyebrowswould descend and deep wrinkles would crease his cheeks. His small,deep-set eyes always twinkled and looked out straight.

　　"Well, now tell me about your exploits," said he.

　　Bolkonski, very modestly without once mentioning himself,described the engagement and his reception by the Minister of War.

　　"They received me and my news as one receives a dog in a game ofskittles," said he in conclusion.

　　Bilibin smiled and the wrinkles on his face disappeared.

　　"Cependant, mon cher," he remarked, examining his nails from adistance and puckering the skin above his left eye, "malgre la hauteestime que je professe pour the Orthodox Russian army, j'avoue quevotre victoire n'est pas des plus victorieuses."*

　　*"But my dear fellow, with all my respect for the Orthodox Russianarmy, I must say that your victory was not particularly victorious."

　　He went on talking in this way in French, uttering only thosewords in Russian on which he wished to put a contemptuous emphasis.

　　"Come now! You with all your forces fall on the unfortunateMortier and his one division, and even then Mortier slips through yourfingers! Where's the victory?"

　　"But seriously," said Prince Andrew, "we can at any rate say withoutboasting that it was a little better than at Ulm..."

　　"Why didn't you capture one, just one, marshal for us?"

　　"Because not everything happens as one expects or with thesmoothness of a parade. We had expected, as I told you, to get attheir rear by seven in the morning but had not reached it by five inthe afternoon."

　　"And why didn't you do it at seven in the morning? You ought to havebeen there at seven in the morning," returned Bilibin with a smile."You ought to have been there at seven in the morning."

　　"Why did you not succeed in impressing on Bonaparte by diplomaticmethods that he had better leave Genoa alone?" retorted PrinceAndrew in the same tone.

　　"I know," interrupted Bilibin, "you're thinking it's very easy totake marshals, sitting on a sofa by the fire! That is true, butstill why didn't you capture him? So don't be surprised if not onlythe Minister of War but also his Most August Majesty the Emperor andKing Francis is not much delighted by your victory. Even I, a poorsecretary of the Russian Embassy, do not feel any need in token ofmy joy to give my Franz a thaler, or let him go with his Liebchen tothe Prater... True, we have no Prater here..."

　　He looked straight at Prince Andrew and suddenly unwrinkled hisforehead.

　　"It is now my turn to ask you 'why?' mon cher," said Bolkonski. "Iconfess I do not understand: perhaps there are diplomatic subtletieshere beyond my feeble intelligence, but I can't make it out. Mackloses a whole army, the Archduke Ferdinand and the Archduke Karlgive no signs of life and make blunder after blunder. Kutuzov alone atlast gains a real victory, destroying the spell of the invincibilityof the French, and the Minister of War does not even care to hearthe details."

　　"That's just it, my dear fellow. You see it's hurrah for the Tsar,for Russia, for the Orthodox Greek faith! All that is beautiful, butwhat do we, I mean the Austrian court, care for your victories?Bring us nice news of a victory by the Archduke Karl or Ferdinand (onearchduke's as good as another, as you know) and even if it is onlyover a fire brigade of Bonaparte's, that will be another story andwe'll fire off some cannon! But this sort of thing seems done onpurpose to vex us. The Archduke Karl does nothing, the ArchdukeFerdinand disgraces himself. You abandon Vienna, give up itsdefense- as much as to say: 'Heaven is with us, but heaven help youand your capital!' The one general whom we all loved, Schmidt, youexpose to a bullet, and then you congratulate us on the victory! Admitthat more irritating news than yours could not have been conceived.It's as if it had been done on purpose, on purpose. Besides, supposeyou did gain a brilliant victory, if even the Archduke Karl gained avictory, what effect would that have on the general course ofevents? It's too late now when Vienna is occupied by the French army!"

　　"What? Occupied? Vienna occupied?"

　　"Not only occupied, but Bonaparte is at Schonbrunn, and the count,our dear Count Vrbna, goes to him for orders."

　　After the fatigues and impressions of the journey, his reception,and especially after having dined, Bolkonski felt that he could nottake in the full significance of the words he heard.

　　"Count Lichtenfels was here this morning," Bilibin continued, "andshowed me a letter in which the parade of the French in Vienna wasfully described: Prince Murat et tout le tremblement... You see thatyour victory is not a matter for great rejoicing and that you can't bereceived as a savior."

　　"Really I don't care about that, I don't care at all," said PrinceAndrew, beginning to understand that his news of the battle beforeKrems was really of small importance in view of such events as thefall of Austria's capital. "How is it Vienna was taken? What of thebridge and its celebrated bridgehead and Prince Auersperg? We heardreports that Prince Auersperg was defending Vienna?" he said.

　　"Prince Auersperg is on this, on our side of the river, and isdefending us- doing it very badly, I think, but still he isdefending us. But Vienna is on the other side. No, the bridge hasnot yet been taken and I hope it will not be, for it is mined andorders have been given to blow it up. Otherwise we should long agohave been in the mountains of Bohemia, and you and your army wouldhave spent a bad quarter of an hour between two fires."

　　"But still this does not mean that the campaign is over," saidPrince Andrew.

　　"Well, I think it is. The bigwigs here think so too, but theydaren't say so. It will be as I said at the beginning of the campaign,it won't be your skirmishing at Durrenstein, or gunpowder at all, thatwill decide the matter, but those who devised it," said Bilibinquoting one of his own mots, releasing the wrinkles on his forehead,and pausing. "The only question is what will come of the meetingbetween the Emperor Alexander and the King of Prussia in Berlin? IfPrussia joins the Allies, Austria's hand will be forced and there willbe war. If not it is merely a question of settling where thepreliminaries of the new Campo Formio are to be drawn up."

　　"What an extraordinary genius!" Prince Andrew suddenly exclaimed,clenching his small hand and striking the table with it, "and whatluck the man has!"

　　"Buonaparte?" said Bilibin inquiringly, puckering up his forehead toindicate that he was about to say something witty. "Buonaparte?" herepeated, accentuating the u: "I think, however, now that he lays downlaws for Austria at Schonbrunn, il faut lui faire grace de l'u!* Ishall certainly adopt an innovation and call him simply Bonaparte!"

　　*"We must let him off the u!"

　　"But joking apart," said Prince Andrew, "do you really think thecampaign is over?"

　　"This is what I think. Austria has been made a fool of, and she isnot used to it. She will retaliate. And she has been fooled in thefirst place because her provinces have been pillaged- they say theHoly Russian army loots terribly- her army is destroyed, her capitaltaken, and all this for the beaux yeux* of His Sardinian Majesty.And therefore- this is between ourselves- I instinctively feel that weare being deceived, my instinct tells me of negotiations with Franceand projects for peace, a secret peace concluded separately."

　　*Fine eyes.

　　"Impossible!" cried Prince Andrew. "That would be too base."

　　"If we live we shall see," replied Bilibin, his face againbecoming smooth as a sign that the conversation was at an end.

　　When Prince Andrew reached the room prepared for him and lay down ina clean shirt on the feather bed with its warmed and fragrant pillows,he felt that the battle of which he had brought tidings was far, faraway from him. The alliance with Prussia, Austria's treachery,Bonaparte's new triumph, tomorrow's levee and parade, and the audiencewith the Emperor Francis occupied his thoughts.

　　He closed his eyes, and immediately a sound of cannonading, ofmusketry and the rattling of carriage wheels seemed to fill hisears, and now again drawn out in a thin line the musketeers weredescending the hill, the French were firing, and he felt his heartpalpitating as he rode forward beside Schmidt with the bullets merrilywhistling all around, and he experienced tenfold the joy of living, ashe had not done since childhood.

　　He woke up...

　　"Yes, that all happened!" he said, and, smiling happily to himselflike a child, he fell into a deep, youthful slumber.