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Napoleon grinned maliciously and again raised his snuffbox to his nose.
Balashv knew how to reply to each of Napoleon’s remarks, and would have done so; he continually made the gesture of a man wishing to say something, but Napoleon always interrupted him. To the alleged insanity of the Swedes, Balashv wished to reply that when Russia is on her side Sweden is practically an island: but Napoleon gave an angry exclamation to drown his voice. Napoleon was in that state of irritability in which a man has to talk, talk, and talk, merely to convince himself that he is in the right. Balashv began to feel uncomfortable: as envoy he feared to demean his dignity and felt the necessity of replying; but, as a man, he shrank before the transport of groundless wrath that had evidently seized Napoleon. He knew that none of the words now uttered by Napoleon had any significance, and that Napoleon himself would be ashamed of them when he came to his senses. Balashv stood with downcast eyes, looking at the movements of Napoleon’s stout legs and trying to avoid meeting his eyes.
“But what do I care about your allies?” said Napoleon. “I have allies—the Poles. There are eighty thousand of them and they fight like lions. And there will be two hundred thousand of them.”
And probably still more perturbed by the fact that he had uttered this obvious falsehood, and that Balashv still stood silently before him in the same attitude of submission to fate, Napoleon abruptly turned round, drew close to Balashv’s face, and, gesticulating rapidly and energetically with his white hands, almost shouted:
“Know that if you stir up Prussia against me, I’ll wipe it off the map of Europe!” he declared, his face pale and distorted by anger, and he struck one of his small hands energetically with the other. “Yes, I will throw you back beyond the Dvna and beyond the Dnieper, and will re-erect against you that barrier which it was criminal and blind of Europe to allow to be destroyed. Yes, that is what will happen to you. That is what you have gained by alienating me!” And he walked silently several times up and down the room, his fat shoulders twitching.
He put his snuffbox into his waistcoat pocket, took it out again, lifted it several times to his nose, and stopped in front of Balashv. He paused, looked ironically straight into Balashv’s eyes, and said in a quiet voice:
“And yet what a splendid reign your master might have had!”
Balashv, feeling it incumbent on him to reply, said that from the Russian side things did not appear in so gloomy a light. Napoleon was silent, still looking derisively at him and evidently not listening to him. Balashv said that in Russia the best results were expected from the war. Napoleon nodded condescendingly, as if to say, “I know it’s your duty to say that, but you don’t believe it yourself. I have convinced you.”
When Balashv had ended, Napoleon again took out his snuffbox, sniffed at it, and stamped his foot twice on the floor as a signal. The door opened, a gentleman-in-waiting, bending respectfully, handed the Emperor his hat and gloves; another brought him a pocket handkerchief. Napoleon, without giving them a glance, turned to Balashv:
“Assure the Emperor Alexander from me,” said he, taking his hat, “that I am as devoted to him as before: I know him thoroughly and very highly esteem his lofty qualities. I will detain you no longer, General; you shall receive my letter to the Emperor.”
And Napoleon went quickly to the door. Everyone in the reception room rushed forward and descended the staircase.
After all that Napoleon had said to him—those bursts of anger and the last dryly spoken words: “I will detain you no longer, General; you shall receive my letter,” Balashv felt convinced that Napoleon would not wish to see him, and would even avoid another meeting with him—an insulted envoy—especially as he had witnessed his unseemly anger. But, to his surprise, Balashv received, through Duroc, an invitation to dine with the Emperor that day.
Bessires, Caulaincourt, and Berthier were present at that dinner.
Napoleon met Balashv cheerfully and amiably. He not only showed no sign of constraint or self-reproach on account of his outburst that morning, but, on the contrary, tried to reassure Balashv. It was evident that he had long been convinced that it was impossible for him to make a mistake, and that in his perception whatever he did was right, not because it harmonized with any idea of right and wrong, but because he did it.
The Emperor was in very good spirits after his ride through Vlna, where crowds of people had rapturously greeted and followed him. From all the windows of the streets through which he rode, rugs, flags, and his monogram were displayed, and the Polish ladies, welcoming him, waved their handkerchiefs to him.
At dinner, having placed Balashv beside him, Napoleon not only treated him amiably but behaved as if Balashv were one of his own courtiers, one of those who sympathized with his plans and ought to rejoice at his success. In the course of conversation he mentioned Moscow and questioned Balashv about the Russian capital, not merely as an interested traveler asks about a new city he intends to visit, but as if convinced that Balashv, as a Russian, must be flattered by his curiosity.
“How many inhabitants are there in Moscow? How many houses? Is it true that Moscow is called ‘Holy Moscow’? How many churches are there in Moscow?” he asked.
And receiving the reply that there were more than two hundred churches, he remarked:
“Why such a quantity of churches?”
“The Russians are very devout,” replied Balashv.
“But a large number of monasteries and churches is always a sign of the backwardness of a people,” said Napoleon, turning to Caulaincourt for appreciation of this remark.
Balashv respectfully ventured to disagree with the French Emperor.
“Every country has its own character,” said he.
“But nowhere in Europe is there anything like that,” said Napoleon.
“I beg your Majesty’s pardon,” returned Balashv, “besides Russia there is Spain, where there are also many churches and monasteries.”
This reply of Balashv’s, which hinted at the recent defeats of the French in Spain, was much appreciated when he related it at Alexander’s court, but it was not much appreciated at Napoleon’s dinner, where it passed unnoticed.
The uninterested and perplexed faces of the marshals showed that they were puzzled as to what Balashv’s tone suggested. “If there is a point we don’t see it, or it is not at all witty,” their expressions seemed to say. So little was his rejoinder appreciated that Napoleon did not notice it at all and navely asked Balashv through what towns the direct road from there to Moscow passed. Balashv, who was on the alert all through the dinner, replied that just as “all roads lead to Rome,” so all roads lead to Moscow: there were many roads, and “among them the road through Poltva, which Charles XII chose.” Balashv involuntarily flushed with pleasure at the aptitude of this reply, but hardly had he uttered the word Poltva before Caulaincourt began speaking of the badness of the road from Petersburg to Moscow and of his Petersburg reminiscences.
