Book Ten: 1812 - Chapter V

by Leo Tolstoy

　　From Smolensk the troops continued to retreat, followed by theenemy. On the tenth of August the regiment Prince Andrew commanded wasmarching along the highroad past the avenue leading to Bald Hills.Heat and drought had continued for more than three weeks. Each dayfleecy clouds floated across the sky and occasionally veiled thesun, but toward evening the sky cleared again and the sun set inreddish-brown mist. Heavy night dews alone refreshed the earth. Theunreaped corn was scorched and shed its grain. The marshes dried up.The cattle lowed from hunger, finding no food on the sun-parchedmeadows. Only at night and in the forests while the dew lasted wasthere any freshness. But on the road, the highroad along which thetroops marched, there was no such freshness even at night or whenthe road passed through the forest; the dew was imperceptible on thesandy dust churned up more than six inches deep. As soon as day dawnedthe march began. The artillery and baggage wagons moved noiselesslythrough the deep dust that rose to the very hubs of the wheels, andthe infantry sank ankle-deep in that soft, choking, hot dust thatnever cooled even at night. Some of this dust was kneaded by thefeet and wheels, while the rest rose and hung like a cloud over thetroops, settling in eyes, ears, hair, and nostrils, and worst of allin the lungs of the men and beasts as they moved along that road.The higher the sun rose the higher rose that cloud of dust, andthrough the screen of its hot fine particles one could look with nakedeye at the sun, which showed like a huge crimson ball in the uncloudedsky. There was no wind, and the men choked in that motionlessatmosphere. They marched with handkerchiefs tied over their nosesand mouths. When they passed through a village they all rushed tothe wells and fought for the water and drank it down to the mud.

　　Prince Andrew was in command of a regiment, and the management ofthat regiment, the welfare of the men and the necessity of receivingand giving orders, engrossed him. The burning of Smolensk and itsabandonment made an epoch in his life. A novel feeling of angeragainst the foe made him forget his own sorrow. He was entirelydevoted to the affairs of his regiment and was considerate and kind tohis men and officers. In the regiment they called him "our prince,"were proud of him and loved him. But he was kind and gentle only tothose of his regiment, to Timokhin and the like- people quite new tohim, belonging to a different world and who could not know andunderstand his past. As soon as he came across a former acquaintanceor anyone from the staff, he bristled up immediately and grewspiteful, ironical, and contemptuous. Everything that reminded himof his past was repugnant to him, and so in his relations with thatformer circle he confined himself to trying to do his duty and notto be unfair.

　　In truth everything presented itself in a dark and gloomy light toPrince Andrew, especially after the abandonment of Smolensk on thesixth of August (he considered that it could and should have beendefended) and after his sick father had had to flee to Moscow,abandoning to pillage his dearly beloved Bald Hills which he had builtand peopled. But despite this, thanks to his regiment, Prince Andrewhad something to think about entirely apart from general questions.Two days previously he had received news that his father, son, andsister had left for Moscow; and though there was nothing for him to doat Bald Hills, Prince Andrew with a characteristic desire to fomenthis own grief decided that he must ride there.

　　He ordered his horse to be saddled and, leaving his regiment onthe march, rode to his father's estate where he had been born andspent his childhood. Riding past the pond where there used always tobe dozens of women chattering as they rinsed their linen or beat itwith wooden beetles, Prince Andrew noticed that there was not a soulabout and that the little washing wharf, torn from its place andhalf submerged, was floating on its side in the middle of the pond. Herode to the keeper's lodge. No one at the stone entrance gates ofthe drive and the door stood open. Grass had already begun to growon the garden paths, and horses and calves were straying in theEnglish park. Prince Andrew rode up to the hothouse; some of the glasspanes were broken, and of the trees in tubs some were overturned andothers dried up. He called for Taras the gardener, but no one replied.Having gone round the corner of the hothouse to the ornamental garden,he saw that the carved garden fence was broken and branches of theplum trees had been torn off with the fruit. An old peasant whomPrince Andrew in his childhood had often seen at the gate wassitting on a green garden seat, plaiting a bast shoe.

　　He was deaf and did not hear Prince Andrew ride up. He was sittingon the seat the old prince used to like to sit on, and beside himstrips of bast were hanging on the broken and withered branch of amagnolia.

　　Prince Andrew rode up to the house. Several limes in the oldgarden had been cut down and a piebald mare and her foal werewandering in front of the house among the rosebushes. The shutterswere all closed, except at one window which was open. A little serfboy, seeing Prince Andrew, ran into the house. Alpatych, having senthis family away, was alone at Bald Hills and was sitting indoorsreading the Lives of the Saints. On hearing that Prince Andrew hadcome, he went out with his spectacles on his nose, buttoning his coat,and, hastily stepping up, without a word began weeping and kissingPrince Andrew's knee.

　　Then, vexed at his own weakness, he turned away and began toreport on the position of affairs. Everything precious and valuablehad been removed to Bogucharovo. Seventy quarters of grain had alsobeen carted away. The hay and the spring corn, of which Alpatychsaid there had been a remarkable crop that year, had been commandeeredby the troops and mown down while still green. The peasants wereruined; some of them too had gone to Bogucharovo, only a few remained.

　　Without waiting to hear him out, Prince Andrew asked:

　　"When did my father and sister leave?" meaning when did they leavefor Moscow.

　　Alpatych, understanding the question to refer to their departure forBogucharovo, replied that they had left on the seventh and againwent into details concerning the estate management, asking forinstructions.

　　"Am I to let the troops have the oats, and to take a receipt forthem? We have still six hundred quarters left," he inquired.

　　"What am I to say to him?" thought Prince Andrew, looking down onthe old man's bald head shining in the sun and seeing by theexpression on his face that the old man himself understood howuntimely such questions were and only asked them to allay his grief.

　　"Yes, let them have it," replied Prince Andrew.

　　"If you noticed some disorder in the garden," said Alpatych, "it wasimpossible to prevent it. Three regiments have been here and spent thenight, dragoons mostly. I took down the name and rank of theircommanding officer, to hand in a complaint about it."

　　"Well, and what are you going to do? Will you stay here if the enemyoccupies the place?" asked Prince Andrew.

　　Alpatych turned his face to Prince Andrew, looked at him, andsuddenly with a solemn gesture raised his arm.

　　"He is my refuge! His will be done!" he exclaimed.

　　A group of bareheaded peasants was approaching across the meadowtoward the prince.

　　"Well, good-by!" said Prince Andrew, bending over to Alpatych."You must go away too, take away what you can and tell the serfs to goto the Ryazan estate or to the one near Moscow."

　　Alpatych clung to Prince Andrew's leg and burst into sobs. Gentlydisengaging himself, the prince spurred his horse and rode down theavenue at a gallop.

　　The old man was still sitting in the ornamental garden, like a flyimpassive on the face of a loved one who is dead, tapping the laston which he was making the bast shoe, and two little girls, runningout from the hot house carrying in their skirts plums they had pluckedfrom the trees there, came upon Prince Andrew. On seeing the youngmaster, the elder one frightened look clutched her younger companionby the hand and hid with her behind a birch tree, not stopping to pickup some green plums they had dropped.

　　Prince Andrew turned away with startled haste, unwilling to let themsee that they had been observed. He was sorry for the prettyfrightened little girl, was afraid of looking at her, and yet feltan irresistible desire to do so. A new sensation of comfort and reliefcame over him when, seeing these girls, he realized the existence ofother human interests entirely aloof from his own and just aslegitimate as those that occupied him. Evidently these girlspassionately desired one thing- to carry away and eat those greenplums without being caught- and Prince Andrew shared their wish forthe success of their enterprise. He could not resist looking at themonce more. Believing their danger past, they sprang from theirambush and, chirruping something in their shrill little voices andholding up their skirts, their bare little sunburned feet scamperedmerrily and quickly across the meadow grass.

　　Prince Andrew was somewhat refreshed by having ridden off thedusty highroad along which the troops were moving. But not far fromBald Hills he again came out on the road and overtook his regimentat its halting place by the dam of a small pond. It was past oneo'clock. The sun, a red ball through the dust, burned and scorched hisback intolerably through his black coat. The dust always hungmotionless above the buzz of talk that came from the resting troops.There was no wind. As he crossed the dam Prince Andrew smelled theooze and freshness of the pond. He longed to get into that water,however dirty it might be, and he glanced round at the pool fromwhence came sounds of shrieks and laughter. The small, muddy, greenpond had risen visibly more than a foot, flooding the dam, becauseit was full of the naked white bodies of soldiers with brick-redhands, necks, and faces, who were splashing about in it. All thisnaked white human flesh, laughing and shrieking, floundered about inthat dirty pool like carp stuffed into a watering can, and thesuggestion of merriment in that floundering mass rendered it speciallypathetic.

　　One fair-haired young soldier of the third company, whom PrinceAndrew knew and who had a strap round the calf of one leg, crossedhimself, stepped back to get a good run, and plunged into the water;another, a dark noncommissioned officer who was always shaggy, stoodup to his waist in the water joyfully wriggling his muscular figureand snorted with satisfaction as he poured the water over his headwith hands blackened to the wrists. There were sounds of menslapping one another, yelling, and puffing.

　　Everywhere on the bank, on the dam, and in the pond, there washealthy, white, muscular flesh. The officer, Timokhin, with his redlittle nose, standing on the dam wiping himself with a towel, feltconfused at seeing the prince, but made up his mind to address himnevertheless.

　　"It's very nice, your excellency! Wouldn't you like to?" said he.

　　"It's dirty," replied Prince Andrew, making a grimace.

　　"We'll clear it out for you in a minute," said Timokhin, and,still undressed, ran off to clear the men out of the pond.

　　"The prince wants to bathe."

　　"What prince? Ours?" said many voices, and the men were in suchhaste to clear out that the prince could hardly stop them. Hedecided that he would rather himself with water in the barn.

　　"Flesh, bodies, cannon fodder!" he thought, and he looked at his ownnaked body and shuddered, not from cold but from a sense of disgustand horror he did not himself understand, aroused by the sight of thatimmense number of bodies splashing about in the dirty pond.

　　On the seventh of August Prince Bagration wrote as follows fromhis quarters at Mikhaylovna on the Smolensk road:

　　Dear Count Alexis Andreevich- (He was writing to Arakcheev butknew that his letter would be read by the Emperor, and thereforeweighed every word in it to the best of his ability.)

　　I expect the Minister [Barclay de Tolly] has already reported theabandonment of Smolensk to the enemy. It is pitiable and sad, andthe whole army is in despair that this most important place has beenwantonly abandoned. I, for my part, begged him personally mosturgently and finally wrote him, but nothing would induce him toconsent. I swear to you on my honor that Napoleon was in such a fix asnever before and might have lost half his army but could not havetaken Smolensk. Our troops fought, and are fighting, as neverbefore. With fifteen thousand men I held the enemy at bay forthirty-five hours and beat him; but he would not hold out even forfourteen hours. It is disgraceful, a stain on our army, and as forhim, he ought, it seems to me, not to live. If he reports that ourlosses were great, it is not true; perhaps about four thousand, notmore, and not even that; but even were they ten thousand, that'swar! But the enemy has lost masses...

　　What would it have cost him to hold out for another two days? Theywould have had to retire of their own accord, for they had no waterfor men or horses. He gave me his word he would not retreat, butsuddenly sent instructions that he was retiring that night. Wecannot fight in this way, or we may soon bring the enemy to Moscow...

　　There is a rumor that you are thinking of peace. God forbid that youshould make peace after all our sacrifices and such insane retreats!You would set all Russia against you and every one of us would feelashamed to wear the uniform. If it has come to this- we must fightas long as Russia can and as long as there are men able to stand...

　　One man ought to be in command, and not two. Your Minister mayperhaps be good as a Minister, but as a general he is not merely badbut execrable, yet to him is entrusted the fate of our wholecountry.... I am really frantic with vexation; forgive my writingboldly. It is clear that the man who advocates the conclusion of apeace, and that the Minister should command the army, does not loveour sovereign and desires the ruin of us all. So I write youfrankly: call out the militia. For the Minister is leading thesevisitors after him to Moscow in a most masterly way. The whole armyfeels great suspicion of the Imperial aide-de-camp Wolzogen. He issaid to be more Napoleon's man than ours, and he is always advisingthe Minister. I am not merely civil to him but obey him like acorporal, though I am his senior. This is painful, but, loving mybenefactor and sovereign, I submit. Only I am sorry for the Emperorthat he entrusts our fine army to such as he. Consider that on ourretreat we have lost by fatigue and left in the hospital more thanfifteen thousand men, and had we attacked this would not havehappened. Tell me, for God's sake, what will Russia, our motherRussia, say to our being so frightened, and why are we abandoningour good and gallant Fatherland to such rabble and implanting feelingsof hatred and shame in all our subjects? What are we scared at andof whom are we afraid? I am not to blame that the Minister isvacillating, a coward, dense, dilatory, and has all bad qualities. Thewhole army bewails it and calls down curses upon him...