TOWARDS THE END of the year 1811， there began to be greater activity in levying troops and in concentrating the forces of Western Europe， and in 1812 these forces—millions of men， reckoning those engaged in the transport and feeding of the army— moved from the west eastward， towards the frontiers of Russia， where， since 1811， the Russian forces were being in like manner concentrated.
On the 12th of June the forces of Western Europe crossed the frontier， and the war began， that is， an event took place opposed to human reason and all human nature. Millions of men perpetrated against one another so great a mass of crime—fraud， swindling， robbery， forgery， issue of counterfeit money， plunder， incendiarism， and murder—that the annals of all the criminal courts of the world could not muster such a sum of wickedness in whole centuries， though the men who committed those deeds did not at that time look on them as crimes.
What led to this extraordinary event？ What were its causes？ Historians， with simple-hearted conviction， tell us that the causes of this event were the insult offered to the Duke of Oldenburg， the failure to maintain the continental system， the ambition of Napoleon， the firmness of Alexander， the mistakes of the diplomatists， and so on.
According to them， if only Metternich， Rumyantsev， or Talleyrand had， in the interval between a levée and a court ball， really taken pains and written a more judicious diplomatic note， or if only Napoleon had written to Alexander， “I consent to restore the duchy to the Duke of Oldenburg，” there would have been no war.
We can readily understand that being the conception of the war that presented itself to contemporaries. We can understand Napoleon’s supposing the cause of the war to be the intrigues of England （as he said， indeed， in St. Helena）； we can understand how to the members of the English House of Commons the cause of the war seemed to be Napoleon’s ambition； how to the Duke of Oldenburg the war seemed due to the outrage done him； how to the trading class the war seemed due to the continental system that was ruining Europe； to the old soldiers and generals the chief reason for it seemed their need of active service； to the regiments of the period， the necessity of re-establishing les bons principes； while the diplomatists of the time set it down to the alliance of Russia with Austria in 1809 not having been with sufficient care concealed from Napoleon， and the memorandum， No. 178， having been awkwardly worded. We may well understand contemporaries believing in those causes， and in a countless， endless number more， the multiplicity of which is due to the infinite variety of men’s points of view. But to us of a later generation， contemplating in all its vastness the immensity of the accomplished fact， and seeking to penetrate its simple and fearful significance， those explanations must appear insufficient. To us it is inconceivable that millions of Christian men should have killed and tortured each other， because Napoleon was ambitious， Alexander firm， English policy crafty， and the Duke of Oldenburg hardly treated. We cannot grasp the connection between these circumstances and the bare fact of murder and violence， nor why the duke’s wrongs should induce thousands of men from the other side of Europe to pillage and murder the inhabitants of the Smolensk and Moscow provinces and to be slaughtered by them.
For us of a later generation， who are not historians led away by the process of research， and so can look at the facts with common-sense unobscured， the causes of this war appear innumerable in their multiplicity. The more deeply we search out the causes the more of them we discover； and every cause， and even a whole class of causes taken separately， strikes us as being equally true in itself， and equally deceptive through its insignificance in comparison with the immensity of the result， and its inability to produce （without all the other causes that concurred with it） the effect that followed. Such a cause， for instance， occurs to us as Napoleon’s refusal to withdraw his troops beyond the Vistula， and to restore the duchy of Oldenburg； and then again we remember the readiness or the reluctance of the first chance French corporal to serve on a second campaign； for had he been unwilling to serve， and a second and a third， and thousands of corporals and soldiers had shared that reluctance， Napoleon’s army would have been short of so many men， and the war could not have taken place.
If Napoleon had not taken offence at the request to withdraw beyond the Vistula， and had not commanded his troops to advance， there would have been no war. But if all the sergeants had been unwilling to serve on another campaign， there could have been no war either.
