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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.
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