Book Thirteen: 1812 - Chapter V

by Leo Tolstoy

　　Next day the decrepit Kutuzov, having given orders to be calledearly, said his prayers, dressed, and, with an unpleasantconsciousness of having to direct a battle he did not approve of,got into his caleche and drove from Letashovka (a village three anda half miles from Tarutino) to the place where the attacking columnswere to meet. He sat in the caleche, dozing and waking up by turns,and listening for any sound of firing on the right as an indicationthat the action had begun. But all was still quiet. A damp dull autumnmorning was just dawning. On approaching Tarutino Kutuzov noticedcavalrymen leading their horses to water across the road along whichhe was driving. Kutuzov looked at them searchingly, stopped hiscarriage, and inquired what regiment they belonged to. They belongedto a column that should have been far in front and in ambush longbefore then. "It may be a mistake," thought the old commander inchief. But a little further on he saw infantry regiments with theirarms piled and the soldiers, only partly dressed, eating their ryeporridge and carrying fuel. He sent for an officer. The officerreported that no order to advance had been received.

　　"How! Not rec..." Kutuzov began, but checked himself immediately andsent for a senior officer. Getting out of his caleche, he waitedwith drooping head and breathing heavily, pacing silently up and down.When Eykhen, the officer of the general staff whom he had summoned,appeared, Kutuzov went purple in the face, not because that officerwas to blame for the mistake, but because he was an object ofsufficient importance for him to vent his wrath on. Trembling andpanting the old man fell into that state of fury in which he sometimesused to roll on the ground, and he fell upon Eykhen, threatening himwith his hands, shouting and loading him with gross abuse. Anotherman, Captain Brozin, who happened to turn up and who was not at all toblame, suffered the same fate.

　　"What sort of another blackguard are you? I'll have you shot!Scoundrels!" yelled Kutuzov in a hoarse voice, waving his arms andreeling.

　　He was suffering physically. He, the commander in chief, a SereneHighness who everybody said possessed powers such as no man had everhad in Russia, to be placed in this position- made the laughingstockof the whole army! "I needn't have been in such a hurry to prayabout today, or have kept awake thinking everything over all night,"thought he to himself. "When I was a chit of an officer no one wouldhave dared to mock me so... and now!" He was in a state of physicalsuffering as if from corporal punishment, and could not avoidexpressing it by cries of anger and distress. But his strength soonbegan to fail him, and looking about him, conscious of having saidmuch that was amiss, he again got into his caleche and drove back insilence.

　　His wrath, once expended, did not return, and blinking feebly helistened to excuses and self-justifications (Ermolov did not come tosee him till the next day) and to the insistence of Bennigsen,Konovnitsyn, and Toll that the movement that had miscarried shouldbe executed next day. And once more Kutuzov had to consent.