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At eight o'clock Kutuzov rode to Pratzen at the head of the
fourth column, Miloradovich's, the one that was to take the place
of Przebyszewski's and Langeron's columns which had already gone
down into the valley. He greeted the men of the foremost regiment
and gave them the order to march, thereby indicating that he intended
to lead that column himself. When he had reached the village of
Pratzen he halted. Prince Andrew was behind, among the immense
number forming the commander in chief's suite. He was in a state
of suppressed excitement and irritation, though controlledly calm
as a man is at the approach of a long-awaited moment. He was firmly
convinced that this was the day of his Toulon, or his bridge of
Arcola. How it would come about he did not know, but he felt sure
it would do so. The locality and the position of our troops were
known to him as far as they could be known to anyone in our army.
His own strategic plan, which obviously could not now be carried
out, was forgotten. Now, entering into Weyrother's plan, Prince
Andrew considered possible contingencies and formed new projects
such as might call for his rapidity of perception and decision.
To the left down below in the mist, the musketry fire of unseen
forces could be heard. It was there Prince Andrew thought the
fight would concentrate. "There we shall encounter difficulties,
and there," thought he, "I shall be sent with a brigade
or division, and there, standard in hand, I shall go forward and
break whatever is in front of me."
He could not look calmly at the standards of the passing battalions.
Seeing them he kept thinking, "That may be the very standard
with which I shall lead the army."
In the morning all that was left of the night mist on the
heights was a hoar frost now turning to dew, but in the valleys
it still lay like a milk-white sea. Nothing was visible in the
valley to the left into which our troops had descended and from
whence came the sounds of firing. Above the heights was the dark
clear sky, and to the right the vast orb of the sun. In front,
far off on the farther shore of that sea of mist, some wooded
hills were discernible, and it was there the enemy probably was,
for something could be descried. On the right the Guards were
entering the misty region with a sound of hoofs and wheels and
now and then a gleam of bayonets; to the left beyond the village
similar masses of cavalry came up and disappeared in the sea of
mist. In front and behind moved infantry. The commander in chief
was standing at the end of the village letting the troops pass
by him. That morning Kutuzov seemed worn and irritable. The infantry
passing before him came to a halt without any command being given,
apparently obstructed by something in front.
"Do order them to form into battalion columns and go
round the village!" he said angrily to a general who had
ridden up. "Don't you understand, your excellency, my dear
sir, that you must not defile through narrow village streets when
we are marching against the enemy?"
"I intended to re-form them beyond the village, your
excellency," answered the general.
Kutuzov laughed bitterly.
"You'll make a fine thing of it, deploying in sight of
the enemy! Very fine!"
"The enemy is still far away, your excellency. According
to the dispositions..."
"The dispositions!" exclaimed Kutuzov bitterly.
"Who told you that?... Kindly do as you are ordered."
"Yes, sir."
"My dear fellow," Nesvitski whispered to Prince
Andrew, "the old man is as surly as a dog."
An Austrian officer in a white uniform with green plumes in
his hat galloped up to Kutuzov and asked in the Emperor's name
had the fourth column advanced into action.
Kutuzov turned round without answering and his eye happened
to fall upon Prince Andrew, who was beside him. Seeing him, Kutuzov's
malevolent and caustic expression softened, as if admitting that
what was being done was not his adjutant's fault, and still not
answering the Austrian adjutant, he addressed Bolkonski.
"Go, my dear fellow, and see whether the third division
has passed the village. Tell it to stop and await my orders."
Hardly had Prince Andrew started than he stopped him.
"And ask whether sharpshooters have been posted,"
he added. "What are they doing? What are they doing?"
he murmured to himself, still not replying to the Austrian.
Prince Andrew galloped off to execute the order.
Overtaking the battalions that continued to advance, he stopped
the third division and convinced himself that there really were
no sharpshooters in front of our columns. The colonel at the head
of the regiment was much surprised at the commander in chief's
order to throw out skirmishers. He had felt perfectly sure that
there were other troops in front of him and that the enemy must
be at least six miles away. There was really nothing to be seen
in front except a barren descent hidden by dense mist. Having
given orders in the commander in chief's name to rectify this
omission, Prince Andrew galloped back. Kutuzov still in the same
place, his stout body resting heavily in the saddle with the lassitude
of age, sat yawning wearily with closed eyes. The troops were
no longer moving, but stood with the butts of their muskets on
the ground.
"All right, all right!" he said to Prince Andrew,
and turned to a general who, watch in hand, was saying it was
time they started as all the left-flank columns had already descended.
"Plenty of time, your excellency," muttered Kutuzov
in the midst of a yawn. "Plenty of time," he repeated.
Just then at a distance behind Kutuzov was heard the sound
of regiments saluting, and this sound rapidly came nearer along
the whole extended line of the advancing Russian columns. Evidently
the person they were greeting was riding quickly. When the soldiers
of the regiment in front of which Kutuzov was standing began to
shout, he rode a little to one side and looked round with a frown.
Along the road from Pratzen galloped what looked like a squadron
of horsemen in various uniforms. Two of them rode side by side
in front, at full gallop. One in a black uniform with white plumes
in his hat rode a bobtailed chestnut horse, the other who was
in a white uniform rode a black one. These were the two Emperors
followed by their suites. Kutuzov, affecting the manners of an
old soldier at the front, gave the command "Attention!"
and rode up to the Emperors with a salute. His whole appearance
and manner were suddenly transformed. He put on the air of a subordinate
who obeys without reasoning. With an affectation of respect which
evidently struck Alexander unpleasantly, he rode up and saluted.
This unpleasant impression merely flitted over the young and
happy face of the Emperor like a cloud of haze across a clear
sky and vanished. After his illness he looked rather thinner that
day than on the field of Olmutz where Bolkonski had seen him for
the first time abroad, but there was still the same bewitching
combination of majesty and mildness in his fine gray eyes, and
on his delicate lips the same capacity for varying expression
and the same prevalent appearance of goodhearted innocent youth.
At the Olmutz review he had seemed more majestic; here he
seemed brighter and more energetic. He was slightly flushed after
galloping two miles, and reining in his horse he sighed restfully
and looked round at the faces of his suite, young and animated
as his own. Czartoryski, Novosiltsev, Prince Volkonsky, Strogonov,
and the others, all richly dressed gay young men on splendid,
well-groomed, fresh, only slightly heated horses, exchanging remarks
and smiling, had stopped behind the Emperor. The Emperor Francis,
a rosy, long faced young man, sat very erect on his handsome black
horse, looking about him in a leisurely and preoccupied manner.
He beckoned to one of his white adjutants and asked some question-
"Most likely he is asking at what o'clock they started,"
thought Prince Andrew, watching his old acquaintance with a smile
he could not repress as he recalled his reception at Brunn. In
the Emperors' suite were the picked young orderly officers of
the Guard and line regiments, Russian and Austrian. Among them
were grooms leading the Tsar's beautiful relay horses covered
with embroidered cloths.
As when a window is opened a whiff of fresh air from the fields
enters a stuffy room, so a whiff of youthfulness, energy, and
confidence of success reached Kutuzov's cheerless staff with the
galloping advent of all these brilliant young men.
"Why aren't you beginning, Michael Ilarionovich?"
said the Emperor Alexander hurriedly to Kutuzov, glancing courteously
at the same time at the Emperor Francis.
"I am waiting, Your Majesty," answered Kutuzov,
bending forward respectfully.
The Emperor, frowning slightly, bent his ear forward as if
he had not quite heard.
"Waiting, Your Majesty," repeated Kutuzov. (Prince
Andrew noted that Kutuzov's upper lip twitched unnaturally as
he said the word "waiting.") "Not all the columns
have formed up yet, Your Majesty."
The Tsar heard but obviously did not like the reply; he shrugged
his rather round shoulders and glanced at Novosiltsev who was
near him, as if complaining of Kutuzov.
"You know, Michael Ilarionovich, we are not are not on
the Empress' Field where a parade does not begin till all the
troops are assembled," said the Tsar with another glance
at the Emperor Francis, as if inviting him if not to join in at
least to listen to what he was saying. But the Emperor Francis
continued to look about him and did not listen.
"That is just why I do not begin, sire," said Kutuzov
in a resounding voice, apparently to preclude the possibility
of not being heard, and again something in his face twitched-
"That is just why I do not begin, sire, because we are not
on parade and not on the Empress' Field." said clearly and
distinctly.
In the Emperor's suite all exchanged rapid looks that expressed
dissatisfaction and reproach. "Old though he may be, he should
not, he certainly should not, speak like that," their glances
seemed to say.
The Tsar looked intently and observantly into Kutuzov's eye
waiting to hear whether he would say anything more. But Kutuzov,
with respectfully bowed head, seemed also to be waiting. The silence
lasted for about a minute.
"However, if you command it, Your Majesty," said
Kutuzov, lifting his head and again assuming his former tone of
a dull, unreasoning, but submissive general.
He touched his horse and having called Miloradovich, the commander
of the column, gave him the order to advance.
The troops again began to move, and two battalions of the
Novgorod and one of the Apsheron regiment went forward past the
Emperor.
As this Apsheron battalion marched by, the red-faced Miloradovich,
without his greatcoat, with his Orders on his breast and an enormous
tuft of plumes in his cocked hat worn on one side with its corners
front and back, galloped strenuously forward, and with a dashing
salute reined in his horse before the Emperor.
"God be with you, general!" said the Emperor.
"Ma foi, sire, nous ferons ce qui sera dans notre possibilite,
sire,"* he answered gaily, raising nevertheless ironic smiles
among the gentlemen of the Tsar's suite by his poor French.
*"Indeed, Sire, we shall do everything it is possible
to do, Sire."
Miloradovich wheeled his horse sharply and stationed himself
a little behind the Emperor. The Apsheron men, excited by the
Tsar's presence, passed in step before the Emperors and their
suites at a bold, brisk pace.
"Lads!" shouted Miloradovich in a loud, self-confident,
and cheery voice, obviously so elated by the sound of firing,
by the prospect of battle, and by the sight of the gallant Apsherons,
his comrades in Suvorov's time, now passing so gallantly before
the Emperors, that he forgot the sovereigns' presence. "Lads,
it's not the first village you've had to take," cried he.
"Glad to do our best!" shouted the soldiers.
The Emperor's horse started at the sudden cry. This horse
that had carried the sovereign at reviews in Russia bore him also
here on the field of Austerlitz, enduring the heedless blows of
his left foot and pricking its ears at the sound of shots just
as it had done on the Empress' Field, not understanding the significance
of the firing, nor of the nearness of the Emperor Francis' black
cob, nor of all that was being said, thought, and felt that day
by its rider.
The Emperor turned with a smile to one of his followers and
made a remark to him, pointing to the gallant Apsherons.
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