Book Eleven: 1812 - Chapter IV

by Leo Tolstoy

　　The Council of War began to assemble at two in the afternoon inthe better and roomier part of Andrew Savostyanov's hut. The men,women, and children of the large peasant family crowded into theback room across the passage. Only Malasha, Andrew's six-year-oldgranddaughter whom his Serene Highness had petted and to whom he hadgiven a lump of sugar while drinking his tea, remained on the top ofthe brick oven in the larger room. Malasha looked down from the ovenwith shy delight at the faces, uniforms, and decorations of thegenerals, who one after another came into the room and sat down on thebroad benches in the corner under the icons. "Granddad" himself, asMalasha in her own mind called Kutuzov, sat apart in a dark cornerbehind the oven. He sat, sunk deep in a folding armchair, andcontinually cleared his throat and pulled at the collar of his coatwhich, though it was unbuttoned, still seemed to pinch his neck. Thosewho entered went up one by one to the field marshal; he pressed thehands of some and nodded to others. His adjutant Kaysarov was about todraw back the curtain of the window facing Kutuzov, but the lattermoved his hand angrily and Kaysarov understood that his SereneHighness did not wish his face to be seen.

　　Round the peasant's deal table, on which lay maps, plans, pencils,and papers, so many people gathered that the orderlies brought inanother bench and put it beside the table. Ermolov, Kaysarov, andToll, who had just arrived, sat down on this bench. In the foremostplace, immediately under the icons, sat Barclay de Tolly, his highforehead merging into his bald crown. He had a St. George's Crossround his neck and looked pale and ill. He had been feverish for twodays and was now shivering and in pain. Beside him sat Uvarov, whowith rapid gesticulations was giving him some information, speaking inlow tones as they all did. Chubby little Dokhturov was listeningattentively with eyebrows raised and arms folded on his stomach. Onthe other side sat Count Ostermann-Tolstoy, seemingly absorbed inhis own thoughts. His broad head with its bold features and glitteringeyes was resting on his hand. Raevski, twitching forward the blackhair on his temples as was his habit, glanced now at Kutuzov and nowat the door with a look of impatience. Konovnitsyn's firm, handsome,and kindly face was lit up by a tender, sly smile. His glance metMalasha's, and the expression of his eyes caused the little girl tosmile.

　　They were all waiting for Bennigsen, who on the pretext ofinspecting the position was finishing his savory dinner. They waitedfor him from four till six o'clock and did not begin theirdeliberations all that time talked in low tones of other matters.

　　Only when Bennigsen had entered the hut did Kutuzov leave his cornerand draw toward the table, but not near enough for the candles thathad been placed there to light up his face.

　　Bennigsen opened the council with the question: "Are we to abandonRussia's ancient and sacred capital without a struggle, or are we todefend it?" A prolonged and general silence followed. There was afrown on every face and only Kutuzov's angry grunts and occasionalcough broke the silence. All eyes were gazing at him. Malasha toolooked at "Granddad." She was nearest to him and saw how his facepuckered; he seemed about to cry, but this did not last long.

　　"Russia's ancient and sacred capital!" he suddenly said, repeatingBennigsen's words in an angry voice and thereby drawing attention tothe false note in them. "Allow me to tell you, your excellency, thatthat question has no meaning for a Russian." (He lurched his heavybody forward.) "Such a question cannot be put; it is senseless! Thequestion I have asked these gentlemen to meet to discuss is a militaryone. The question is that of saving Russia. Is it better to give upMoscow without a battle, or by accepting battle to risk losing thearmy as well as Moscow? That is the question on which I want youropinion," and he sank back in his chair.

　　The discussion began. Bennigsen did not yet consider his gamelost. Admitting the view of Barclay and others that a defensive battleat Fili was impossible, but imbued with Russian patriotism and thelove of Moscow, he proposed to move troops from the right to theleft flank during the night and attack the French right flank thefollowing day. Opinions were divided, and arguments were advancedfor and against that project. Ermolov, Dokhturov, and Raevski agreedwith Bennigsen. Whether feeling it necessary to make a sacrificebefore abandoning the capital or guided by other, personalconsiderations, these generals seemed not to understand that thiscouncil could not alter the inevitable course of events and thatMoscow was in effect already abandoned. The other generals, however,understood it and, leaving aside the question of Moscow, of thedirection the army should take in its retreat. Malasha, who kept hereyes fixed on what was going on before her, understood the meaningof the council differently. It seemed to her that it was only apersonal struggle between "Granddad" and "Long-coat" as she termedBennigsen. She saw that they grew spiteful when they spoke to oneanother, and in her heart she sided with "Granddad." In the midst ofthe conversation she noticed "Granddad" give Bennigsen a quick, subtleglance, and then to her joys he saw that "Granddad" said somethingto "Long-coat" which settled him. Bennigsen suddenly reddened andpaced angrily up and down the room. What so affected him was Kutuzov'scalm and quiet comment on the advantage or disadvantage of Bennigsen'sproposal to move troops by night from the right to the left flank toattack the French right wing.

　　"Gentlemen," said Kutuzov, "I cannot approve of the count's plan.Moving troops in close proximity to an enemy is always dangerous,and military history supports that view. For instance..." Kutuzovseemed to reflect, searching for an example, then with a clear,naive look at Bennigsen he added: "Oh yes; take the battle ofFriedland, which I think the count well remembers, and which was...not fully successful, only because our troops were rearranged too nearthe enemy..."

　　There followed a momentary pause, which seemed very long to themall.

　　The discussion recommenced, but pauses frequently occurred andthey all felt that there was no more to be said.

　　During one of these pauses Kutuzov heaved a deep sigh as ifpreparing to speak. They all looked at him.

　　"Well, gentlemen, I see that it is I who will have to pay for thebroken crockery," said he, and rising slowly he moved to the table."Gentlemen, I have heard your views. Some of you will not agree withme. But I," he paused, "by the authority entrusted to me by mySovereign and country, order a retreat."

　　After that the generals began to disperse with the solemnity andcircumspect silence of people who are leaving, after a funeral.

　　Some of the generals, in low tones and in a strain very differentfrom the way they had spoken during the council, communicatedsomething to their commander in chief.

　　Malasha, who had long been expected for supper, climbed carefullybackwards down from the oven, her bare little feet catching at itsprojections, and slipping between the legs of the generals shedarted out of the room.

　　When he had dismissed the generals Kutuzov sat a long time withhis elbows on the table, thinking always of the same terriblequestion: "When, when did the abandonment of Moscow become inevitable?When was that done which settled the matter? And who was to blamefor it?"

　　"I did not expect this," said he to his adjutant Schneider whenthe latter came in late that night. "I did not expect this! I didnot think this would happen."

　　"You should take some rest, your Serene Highness," repliedSchneider.

　　"But no! They shall eat horseflesh yet, like the Turks!" exclaimedKutuzov without replying, striking the table with his podgy fist."They shall too, if only..."