was out scouting, killed one hare and wounded another. Following the wounded hare he made his way far into the forest
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and came upon the left flank of Murat’s army, encamped
there without any precautions. The Cossack laughingly told
his comrades how he had almost fallen into the hands of the
French. A cornet, hearing the story, informed his commander.
The Cossack was sent for and questioned. The Cossack
officers wished to take advantage of this chance to capture
some horses, but one of the superior officers, who was acquainted with the higher authorities, reported the incident
to a general on the staff. The state of things on the staff had
of late been exceedingly strained. Ermolov had been to see
Bennigsen a few days previously and had entreated him to
use his influence with the commander in chief to induce him
to take the offensive.
‘If I did not know you I should think you did not want
what you are asking for. I need only advise anything and his
Highness is sure to do the opposite,’ replied Bennigsen.
The Cossack’s report, confirmed by horse patrols who
were sent out, was the final proof that events had matured.
The tightly coiled spring was released, the clock began to
whirr and the chimes to play. Despite all his supposed power, his intellect, his experience, and his knowledge of men,
Kutuzovhaving taken into consideration the Cossack’s report, a note from Bennigsen who sent personal reports to the
Emperor, the wishes he supposed the Emperor to hold, and
the fact that all the generals expressed the same wishcould
no longer check the inevitable movement, and gave the order
to do what he regarded as useless and harmfulgave his approval, that is, to the accomplished fact.
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Chapter IV
Bennigsen’s note and the Cossack’s information that the
left flank of the French was unguarded were merely final indications that it was necessary to order an attack, and it was
fixed for the fifth of October.
On the morning of the fourth of October Kutuzov signed
the dispositions. Toll read them to Ermolov, asking him to attend to the further arrangements.
‘All rightall right. I haven’t time just now,’ replied Ermolov,
and left the hut.
The dispositions drawn up by Toll were very good. As in
the Austerlitz dispositions, it was writtenthough not in German this time:
‘The First Column will march here and here,’ ‘the Second
Column will march there and there,’ and so on; and on paper, all these columns arrived at their places at the appointed
time and destroyed the enemy. Everything had been admirably thought out as is usual in dispositions, and as is always
the case, not a single column reached its place at the appointed time.
When the necessary number of copies of the dispositions
had been prepared, an officer was summoned and sent to deliver them to Ermolov to deal with. A young officer of the
Horse Guards, Kutuzov’s orderly, pleased at the importance
of the mission entrusted to him, went to Ermolov’s quarters.
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War and Peace
‘Gone away,’ said Ermolov’s orderly.
The officer of the Horse Guards went to a general with
whom Ermolov was often to be found.
‘No, and the general’s out too.’
The officer, mounting his horse, rode off to someone else.
‘No, he’s gone out.’
‘If only they don’t make me responsible for this delay!
What a nuisance it is!’ thought the officer, and he rode round
the whole camp. One man said he had seen Ermolov ride past
with some other generals, others said he must have returned
home. The officer searched till six o’clock in the evening without even stopping to eat. Ermolov was nowhere to be found
and no one knew where he was. The officer snatched a little
food at a comrade’s, and rode again to the vanguard to find
Miloradovich. Miloradovich too was away, but here he was
told that he had gone to a ball at General Kikin’s and that Ermolov was probably there too.
‘But where is it?’
‘Why, there, over at Echkino,’ said a Cossack officer, pointing to a country house in the far distance.
‘What, outside our line?’
‘They’ve put two regiments as outposts, and they’re having such a spree there, it’s awful! Two bands and three sets
of singers!’
The officer rode out beyond our lines to Echkino. While
still at a distance he heard as he rode the merry sounds of a
soldier’s dance song proceeding from the house.
‘In the meadows… in the meadows!’ he heard, accompanied by whistling and the sound of a torban, drowned every
1865
now and then by shouts. These sounds made his spirits rise,
but at the same time he was afraid that he would be blamed
for not having executed sooner the important order entrusted to him. It was already past eight o’clock. He dismounted
and went up into the porch of a large country house which
had remained intact between the Russian and French forces.
In the refreshment room and the hall, footmen were bustling
about with wine and viands. Groups of singers stood outside
the windows. The officer was admitted and immediately saw
all the chief generals of the army together, and among them
Ermolov’s big imposing figure. They all had their coats unbuttoned and were standing in a semicircle with flushed and
animated faces, laughing loudly. In the middle of the room a
short handsome general with a red face was dancing the trepak with much spirit and agility.
‘Ha, ha, ha! Bravo, Nicholas Ivanych! Ha, ha, ha!’
The officer felt that by arriving with important orders at
such a moment he was doubly to blame, and he would have
preferred to wait; but one of the generals espied him and,
hearing what he had come about, informed Ermolov.
Ermolov came forward with a frown on his face and,
hearing what the officer had to say, took the papers from him
without a word.
‘You think he went off just by chance?’ said a comrade,
who was on the staff that evening, to the officer of the Horse
Guards, referring to Ermolov. ‘It was a trick. It was done on
purpose to get Konovnitsyn into trouble. You’ll see what a
mess there’ll be tomorrow.’
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War and Peace
Chapter V
Next day the decrepit Kutuzov, having given orders to
be called early, said his prayers, dressed, and, with an unpleasant consciousness of having to direct a battle he did
not approve of, got into his caleche and drove from Letashovka (a village three and a half miles from Tarutino) to the
place where the attacking columns were 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 indication that
the action had begun. But all was still quiet. A damp dull
autumn morning was just dawning. On approaching Tarutino Kutuzov noticed cavalrymen leading their horses to
water across the road along which he was driving. Kutuzov looked at them searchingly, stopped his carriage, and
inquired what regiment they belonged to. They belonged
to a column that should have been far in front and in ambush long before then. ‘It may be a mistake,’ thought the old
commander in chief. But a little further on he saw infantry regiments with their arms piled and the soldiers, only
partly dressed, eating their rye porridge and carrying fuel.
He sent for an officer. The officer reported that no order to
advance had been received.
‘How! Not rec…’ Kutuzov began, but checked himself
immediately and sent for a senior officer. Getting out of his
caleche, he waited with drooping head and breathing heav
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ily, 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 officer was
to blame for the mistake, but because he was an object of
sufficient importance for him to vent his wrath on. Trembling and panting the old man fell into that state of fury
in which he sometimes used to roll on the ground, and he
fell upon Eykhen, threatening him with his hands, shouting
and loading him with gross abuse. Another man, Captain
Brozin, who happened to turn up and who was not at all to
blame, 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 and reeling.
He was suffering physically. He, the commander in chief,
a Serene Highness who everybody said possessed powers such as no man had ever had in Russia, to be placed in
this positionmade the laughingstock of the whole army!
‘I needn’t have been in such a hurry to pray about today,
or have kept awake thinking everything over all night,’
thought he to himself. ‘When I was a chit of an officer no
one would have dared to mock me so… and now!’ He was in
a state of physical suffering as if from corporal punishment,
and could not avoid expressing it by cries of anger and distress. But his strength soon began to fail him, and looking
about him, conscious of having said much that was amiss,
he again got into his caleche and drove back in silence.
His wrath, once expended, did not return, and blinking feebly he listened to excuses and self-justifications
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War and Peace
(Ermolov did not come to see him till the next day) and to
the insistence of Bennigsen, Konovnitsyn, and Toll that the
movement that had miscarried should be executed next day.
And once more Kutuzov had to consent.
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Chapter VI
Next day the troops assembled in their appointed places
in the evening and advanced during the night. It was an
autumn night with dark purple clouds, but no rain. The
ground was damp but not muddy, and the troops advanced
noiselessly, only occasionally a jingling of the artillery
could be faintly heard. The men were forbidden to talk out
loud, to smoke their pipes, or to strike a light, and they tried
to prevent their horses neighing. The secrecy of the undertaking heightened its charm and they marched gaily. Some
columns, supposing. they had reached their destination,
halted, piled arms, and settled down on the cold ground,
but the majority marched all night and arrived at places
where they evidently should not have been.
Only Count Orlov-Denisov with his Cossacks (the least
important detachment of all) got to his appointed place at
the
