library_books Bookstacks

Volume I, Part Three, Chapter X

The next day the Emperor stopped at Wischau. The physician-in-ordinary Villiers was summoned to him several times. In headquarters and among the nearest troops the news spread that the Emperor was unwell. He ate nothing and slept badly that night, as those close to him reported. The cause of this indisposition lay in the strong impression produced on the Emperor's sensitive soul by the sight of the killed and wounded.

At dawn on the 17th, a French officer, who had come with a flag of truce demanding an interview with the Russian Emperor, was brought into Wischau from the outposts. This officer was Savary. The Emperor had just fallen asleep, and therefore Savary had to wait. At noon he was admitted to the Emperors, and an hour later he rode with Prince Dolgorukov to the outposts of the French army.

As it was rumored, the aim of sending Savary was to propose a meeting between the Emperor Alexander and Napoleon. To the joy and pride of the whole army, a personal interview was refused, and instead of the Emperor, Prince Dolgorukov, the victor of Wischau, was sent with Savary to negotiate with Napoleon, in case these negotiations, contrary to expectation, were prompted by a real desire for peace.

In the evening Dolgorukov returned, went straight to the Emperor, and remained alone with him for a long time.

On the 18th and 19th of November, the army advanced another two days' marches, and the enemy outposts, after brief skirmishes, retreated. In the higher spheres of the army, from noon on the 19th, a great, bustling, and excited movement began, which continued till the morning of the following day, the 20th of November, when the memorable battle of Austerlitz was fought.

Until noon on the 19th, the movement, the animated conversations, the running to and fro, and the dispatching of adjutants were confined to the Emperors' headquarters; after noon of the same day, the movement spread to Kutuzov's headquarters and to the staffs of the commanders of the columns. In the evening this movement was spread by adjutants to all ends and parts of the army, and in the night of the 19th to the 20th, the eighty-thousand-strong mass of the allied army rose from its bivouacs, hummed with voices, swayed, and moved forward like a huge nine-verst canvas.

The concentrated movement that had begun in the morning at the Emperors' headquarters and had given the impulse to all the subsequent movement was like the first movement of the central wheel of a large tower clock. One wheel moved slowly, another turned, and a third, and faster and faster the wheels, pulleys, and gearwheels began to turn, the chimes began to play, figures popped out, and the hands began to move evenly, showing the result of the motion.

As in the mechanism of a clock, so in the mechanism of military affairs, an impulse once given leads just as inexorably to the final result, and just as indifferently and motionlessly, a moment before the transmission of the movement, the parts of the mechanism which the action has not yet reached stand still. The wheels whistle on their axes as the cogs engage, the rapidly turning pulleys hiss, but the neighboring wheel is as calm and motionless as though it were ready to stand in that immobility for hundreds of years; but the moment comes — the lever catches, and, obeying the impulse, the wheel cracks, turns, and merges into one action, the result and aim of which are incomprehensible to it.

As in a clock the result of the complex movement of innumerable different wheels and pulleys is only the slow and measured movement of the hand pointing to the time, so the result of all the complex human movements of these 160,000 Russians and Frenchmen — all the passions, desires, regrets, humiliations, sufferings, outbursts of pride, fear, and enthusiasm of these men — was only the loss of the battle of Austerlitz, the so-called battle of the three Emperors, that is to say, a slow shifting of the world-historic hand on the dial of human history.

Prince Andrew was on duty that day and was constantly with the commander in chief.

At six o'clock in the evening Kutuzov arrived at the Emperors' headquarters, and after a short stay with the Emperor, he went to see the Ober-Hofmarschall, Count Tolstoy.

Bolkonsky took advantage of this time to call on Dolgorukov to find out details about the matter. Prince Andrew felt that Kutuzov was upset and displeased about something, and that they were displeased with him at headquarters, and that all the persons of the Emperor's headquarters treated him with the tone of men who know something that others do not; and he therefore wished to speak to Dolgorukov.

— Ah, how do you do, mon cher, — said Dolgorukov, who was sitting at tea with Bilibin. — A celebration for tomorrow. How is your old man? Out of sorts?

— I would not say he is out of sorts, but he seems to want to be heard.

— But he was heard at the council of war, and will be heard when he talks sense; but to delay and wait for something now, when Bonaparte fears a general battle more than anything, is impossible.

— Yes, have you seen him? — said Prince Andrew. — Well, what of Bonaparte? What impression did he make on you?

— Yes, I saw him and was convinced that he fears a general battle more than anything in the world, — repeated Dolgorukov, evidently prizing this general conclusion he had drawn from his meeting with Napoleon. — If he did not fear a battle, why would he have demanded this interview, negotiated, and, above all, retreated, when retreating is so contrary to his whole method of waging war? Believe me: he is afraid, he is afraid of a general battle, his hour has come. I tell you this.

— But tell me, how is he, what is he like? — Prince Andrew asked again.

— He is a man in a gray overcoat, who very much wished me to address him as "Your Majesty," but, to his chagrin, received no title from me. That is the kind of man he is, and nothing more, — answered Dolgorukov, glancing with a smile at Bilibin.

— In spite of my full respect for old Kutuzov, — he continued, — a fine state of affairs it would be if we all waited for something and thereby gave him a chance to escape or deceive us, when he is now certainly in our hands. No, we must not forget Suvorov and his rule: not to put oneself in the position of being attacked, but to attack oneself. Believe me, in war the energy of young men often points out the way more surely than all the experience of old cunctators.

— But in what position are we attacking him? I was at the outposts today, and it is impossible to determine exactly where he stands with his main forces, — said Prince Andrew.

He wished to explain to Dolgorukov his own plan of attack, which he had devised.

— Ah, that is quite immaterial, — Dolgorukov began quickly, rising and unrolling a map on the table. — All eventualities have been foreseen: if he is standing at Brünn...

And Prince Dolgorukov rapidly and indistinctly outlined Weyrother's plan of a flanking movement.

Prince Andrew began to object and to demonstrate his own plan, which might have been as good as Weyrother's, but had the disadvantage that Weyrother's plan had already been approved. As soon as Prince Andrew began to point out the defects of the one and the advantages of his own, Prince Dolgorukov ceased to listen and looked absentmindedly not at the map, but at Prince Andrew's face.

— However, Kutuzov is holding a council of war tonight: you can say all this there, — said Dolgorukov.

— And so I will, — said Prince Andrew, moving away from the map.

— And what are you worrying yourselves about, gentlemen? — said Bilibin, who, until now, had listened to their conversation with a cheerful smile and now evidently intended to make a joke. — Whether there is a victory or a defeat tomorrow, the glory of Russian arms is secure. Except for your Kutuzov, there is not a single Russian commander of a column. The commanders are: Herr general Wimpffen, le comte de Langeron, le prince de Lichtenstein, le prince de Hohenlohe et enfin Prsch... prsh... et ainsi de suite, comme tous les noms polonais. [Mr. General Wimpffen, Count Langeron, Prince Lichtenstein, Prince Hohenlohe, and finally Prsch... prsh... and so on, like all Polish names.]

— Taisez vous, mauvaise langue [Hold your tongue, you evil speaker], — said Dolgorukov. — It is not true, now there are two Russians: Miloradovich and Dokhturov, and there would have been a third, Count Arakcheyev, but his nerves are weak.

— However, Mikhail Ilarionovich, I think, has come out, — said Prince Andrew. — I wish you luck and success, gentlemen, — he added, and went out, having shaken hands with Dolgorukov and Bilibin.

On the way home, Prince Andrew could not refrain from asking Kutuzov, who sat silently beside him, what he thought of tomorrow's battle.

Kutuzov looked sternly at his adjutant and, after a pause, replied:

— I think the battle will be lost, and I told Count Tolstoy so and asked him to convey it to the Emperor. And what do you think he answered me? Eh, mon cher général, je me mêle de riz et des côtelettes, mêlez vous des affaires de la guerre. [Eh, my dear general, I concern myself with rice and cutlets; you concern yourself with military affairs.] Yes... That is what they answered me!