Book Two: 1805 - Chapter 9

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Pursued by the French army of a hundred thousand men under the

command of Bonaparte, encountering a population that was unfriendly to

it, losing confidence in its allies, suffering from shortness of

supplies, and compelled to act under conditions of war unlike anything

that had been foreseen, the Russian army of thirty-five thousand men

commanded by Kutuzov was hurriedly retreating along the Danube,

stopping where overtaken by the enemy and fighting rearguard actions

only as far as necessary to enable it to retreat without losing its

heavy equipment. There had been actions at Lambach, Amstetten, and

Melk; but despite the courage and endurance- acknowledged even by

the enemy- with which the Russians fought, the only consequence of

these actions was a yet more rapid retreat. Austrian troops that had

escaped capture at Ulm and had joined Kutuzov at Braunau now separated

from the Russian army, and Kutuzov was left with only his own weak and

exhausted forces. The defense of Vienna was no longer to be thought

of. Instead of an offensive, the plan of which, carefully prepared

in accord with the modern science of strategics, had been handed to

Kutuzov when he was in Vienna by the Austrian Hofkriegsrath, the

sole and almost unattainable aim remaining for him was to effect a

junction with the forces that were advancing from Russia, without

losing his army as Mack had done at Ulm.

On the twenty-eighth of October Kutuzov with his army crossed to the

left bank of the Danube and took up a position for the first time with

the river between himself and the main body of the French. On the

thirtieth he attacked Mortier's division, which was on the left

bank, and broke it up. In this action for the first time trophies were

taken: banners, cannon, and two enemy generals. For the first time,

after a fortnight's retreat, the Russian troops had halted and after a

fight had not only held the field but had repulsed the French.

Though the troops were ill-clad, exhausted, and had lost a third of

their number in killed, wounded, sick, and stragglers; though a number

of sick and wounded had been abandoned on the other side of the Danube

with a letter in which Kutuzov entrusted them to the humanity of the

enemy; and though the big hospitals and the houses in Krems

converted into military hospitals could no longer accommodate all

the sick and wounded, yet the stand made at Krems and the victory over

Mortier raised the spirits of the army considerably. Throughout the

whole army and at headquarters most joyful though erroneous rumors

were rife of the imaginary approach of columns from Russia, of some

victory gained by the Austrians, and of the retreat of the

frightened Bonaparte.

Prince Andrew during the battle had been in attendance on the

Austrian General Schmidt, who was killed in the action. His horse

had been wounded under him and his own arm slightly grazed by a

bullet. As a mark of the commander in chief's special favor he was

sent with the news of this victory to the Austrian court, now no

longer at Vienna (which was threatened by the French) but at Brunn.

Despite his apparently delicate build Prince Andrew could endure

physical fatigue far better than many very muscular men, and on the

night of the battle, having arrived at Krems excited but not weary,

with dispatches from Dokhturov to Kutuzov, he was sent immediately

with a special dispatch to Brunn. To be so sent meant not only a

reward but an important step toward promotion.

The night was dark but starry, the road showed black in the snow

that had fallen the previous day- the day of the battle. Reviewing his

impressions of the recent battle, picturing pleasantly to himself

the impression his news of a victory would create, or recalling the

send-off given him by the commander in chief and his fellow

officers, Prince Andrew was galloping along in a post chaise

enjoying the feelings of a man who has at length begun to attain a

long-desired happiness. As soon as he closed his eyes his ears

seemed filled with the rattle of the wheels and the sensation of

victory. Then he began to imagine that the Russians were running

away and that he himself was killed, but he quickly roused himself

with a feeling of joy, as if learning afresh that this was not so

but that on the contrary the French had run away. He again recalled

all the details of the victory and his own calm courage during the

battle, and feeling reassured he dozed off.... The dark starry night

was followed by a bright cheerful morning. The snow was thawing in the

sunshine, the horses galloped quickly, and on both sides of the road

were forests of different kinds, fields, and villages.

At one of the post stations he overtook a convoy of Russian wounded.

The Russian officer in charge of the transport lolled back in the

front cart, shouting and scolding a soldier with coarse abuse. In each

of the long German carts six or more pale, dirty, bandaged men were

being jolted over the stony road. Some of them were talking (he

heard Russian words), others were eating bread; the more severely

wounded looked silently, with the languid interest of sick children,

at the envoy hurrying past them.

Prince Andrew told his driver to stop, and asked a soldier in what

action they had been wounded. "Day before yesterday, on the Danube,"

answered the soldier. Prince Andrew took out his purse and gave the

soldier three gold pieces.

"That's for them all," he said to the officer who came up.

"Get well soon, lads!" he continued, turning to the soldiers.

"There's plenty to do still."

"What news, sir?" asked the officer, evidently anxious to start a

conversation.

"Good news!... Go on!" he shouted to the driver, and they galloped

on.

It was already quite dark when Prince Andrew rattled over the

paved streets of Brunn and found himself surrounded by high buildings,

the lights of shops, houses, and street lamps, fine carriages, and all

that atmosphere of a large and active town which is always so

attractive to a soldier after camp life. Despite his rapid journey and

sleepless night, Prince Andrew when he drove up to the palace felt

even more vigorous and alert than he had done the day before. Only his

eyes gleamed feverishly and his thoughts followed one another with

extraordinary clearness and rapidity. He again vividly recalled the

details of the battle, no longer dim, but definite and in the

concise form concise form in which he imagined himself stating them to

the Emperor Francis. He vividly imagined the casual questions that

might be put to him and the answers he would give. He expected to be

at once presented to the Emperor. At the chief entrance to the palace,

however, an official came running out to meet him, and learning that

he was a special messenger led him to another entrance.

"To the right from the corridor, Euer Hochgeboren! There you will

find the adjutant on duty," said the official. "He will conduct you to

the Minister of War."

The adjutant on duty, meeting Prince Andrew, asked him to wait,

and went in to the Minister of War. Five minutes later he returned and

bowing with particular courtesy ushered Prince Andrew before him along

a corridor to the cabinet where the Minister of War was at work. The

adjutant by his elaborate courtesy appeared to wish to ward off any

attempt at familiarity on the part of the Russian messenger.

Prince Andrew's joyous feeling was considerably weakened as he

approached the door of the minister's room. He felt offended, and

without his noticing it the feeling of offense immediately turned into

one of disdain which was quite uncalled for. His fertile mind

instantly suggested to him a point of view which gave him a right to

despise the adjutant and the minister. "Away from the smell of powder,

they probably think it easy to gain victories!" he thought. His eyes

narrowed disdainfully, he entered the room of the Minister of War with

peculiarly deliberate steps. This feeling of disdain was heightened

when he saw the minister seated at a large table reading some papers

and making pencil notes on them, and for the first two or three

minutes taking no notice of his arrival. A wax candle stood at each

side of the minister's bent bald head with its gray temples. He went

on reading to the end, without raising his eyes at the opening of

the door and the sound of footsteps.

"Take this and deliver it," said he to his adjutant, handing him the

papers and still taking no notice of the special messenger.

Prince Andrew felt that either the actions of Kutuzov's army

interested the Minister of War less than any of the other matters he

was concerned with, or he wanted to give the Russian special messenger

that impression. "But that is a matter of perfect indifference to me,"

he thought. The minister drew the remaining papers together,

arranged them evenly, and then raised his head. He had an intellectual

and distinctive head, but the instant he turned to Prince Andrew the

firm, intelligent expression on his face changed in a way evidently

deliberate and habitual to him. His face took on the stupid artificial

smile (which does not even attempt to hide its artificiality) of a man

who is continually receiving many petitioners one after another.

"From General Field Marshal Kutuzov?" he asked. "I hope it is good

news? There has been an encounter with Mortier? A victory? It was high

time!"

He took the dispatch which was addressed to him and began to read it

with a mournful expression.

"Oh, my God! My God! Schmidt!" he exclaimed in German. "What a

calamity! What a calamity!"

Having glanced through the dispatch he laid it on the table and

looked at Prince Andrew, evidently considering something.

"Ah what a calamity! You say the affair was decisive? But Mortier is

not captured." Again he pondered. "I am very glad you have brought

good news, though Schmidt's death is a heavy price to pay for the

victory. His Majesty will no doubt wish to see you, but not today. I

thank you! You must have a rest. Be at the levee tomorrow after the

parade. However, I will let you know."

The stupid smile, which had left his face while he was speaking,

reappeared.

"Au revoir! Thank you very much. His Majesty will probably desire to

see you," he added, bowing his head.

When Prince Andrew left the palace he felt that all the interest and

happiness the victory had afforded him had been now left in the

indifferent hands of the Minister of War and the polite adjutant.

The whole tenor of his thoughts instantaneously changed; the battle

seemed the memory of a remote event long past.

Read next: Book Two: 1805#Chapter 10

Read previous: Book Two: 1805#Chapter 8

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