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When Ermolov, having been sent by Kutuzov to inspect the position,
told the field marshal that it was impossible to fight there before
Moscow and that they must retreat, Kutuzov looked at him in silence.
"Give me your hand," said he and, turning it over
so as to feel the pulse, added: "You are not well, my dear
fellow. Think what you are saying!"
Kutuzov could not yet admit the possibility of retreating
beyond Moscow without a battle.
On the Poklonny Hill, four miles from the Dorogomilov gate
of Moscow, Kutuzov got out of his carriage and sat down on a bench
by the roadside. A great crowd of generals gathered round him,
and Count Rostopchin, who had come out from Moscow, joined them.
This brilliant company separated into several groups who all discussed
the advantages and disadvantages of the position, the state of
the army, the plans suggested, the situation of Moscow, and military
questions generally. Though they had not been summoned for the
purpose, and though it was not so called, they all felt that this
was really a council of war. The conversations all dealt with
public questions. If anyone gave or asked for personal news, it
was done in a whisper and they immediately reverted to general
matters. No jokes, or laughter, or smiles even, were seen among
all these men. They evidently all made an effort to hold themselves
at the height the situation demanded. And all these groups, while
talking among themselves, tried to keep near the commander in
chief (whose bench formed the center of the gathering) and to
speak so that he might overhear them. The commander in chief listened
to what was being said and sometimes asked them to repeat their
remarks, but did not himself take part in the conversations or
express any opinion. After hearing what was being said by one
or other of these groups he generally turned away with an air
of disappointment, as though they were not speaking of anything
he wished to hear. Some discussed the position that had been chosen,
criticizing not the position itself so much as the mental capacity
of those who had chosen it. Others argued that a mistake had been
made earlier and that a battle should have been fought two days
before. Others again spoke of the battle of Salamanca, which was
described by Crosart, a newly arrived Frenchman in a Spanish uniform.
(This Frenchman and one of the German princes serving with the
Russian army were discussing the siege of Saragossa and considering
the possibility of defending Moscow in a similar manner.) Count
Rostopchin was telling a fourth group that he was prepared to
die with the city train bands under the walls of the capital,
but that he still could not help regretting having been left in
ignorance of what was happening, and that had he known it sooner
things would have been different.... A fifth group, displaying
the profundity of their strategic perceptions, discussed the direction
the troops would now have to take. A sixth group was talking absolute
nonsense. Kutuzov's expression grew more and more preoccupied
and gloomy. From all this talk he saw only one thing: that to
defend Moscow was a physical impossibility in the full meaning
of those words, that is to say, so utterly impossible that if
any senseless commander were to give orders to fight, confusion
would result but the battle would still not take place. It would
not take place because the commanders not merely all recognized
the position to be impossible, but in their conversations were
only discussing what would happen after its inevitable abandonment.
How could the commanders lead their troops to a field of battle
they considered it impossible to hold? The lower-grade officers
and even the soldiers (who too reason) also considered the position
impossible and therefore could not go to fight, fully convinced
as they were of defeat. If Bennigsen insisted on the position
being defended and others still discussed it, the question was
no longer important in itself but only as a pretext for disputes
and intrigue. This Kutuzov knew well.
Bennigsen, who had chosen the position, warmly displayed his
Russian patriotism (Kutuzov could not listen to this without wincing)
by insisting that Moscow must be defended. His aim was as clear
as daylight to Kutuzov: if the defense failed, to throw the blame
on Kutuzov who had brought the army as far as the Sparrow Hills
without giving battle; if it succeeded, to claim the success as
his own; or if battle were not given, to clear himself of the
crime of abandoning Moscow. But this intrigue did not now occupy
the old man's mind. One terrible question absorbed him and to
that question he heard no reply from anyone. The question for
him now was: "Have I really allowed Napoleon to reach Moscow,
and when did I do so? When was it decided? Can it have been yesterday
when I ordered Platov to retreat, or was it the evening before,
when I had a nap and told Bennigsen to issue orders? Or was it
earlier still?... When, when was this terrible affair decided?
Moscow must be abandoned. The army must retreat and the order
to do so must be given." To give that terrible order seemed
to him equivalent to resigning the command of the army. And not
only did he love power to which he was accustomed (the honours
awarded to Prince Prozorovski, under whom he had served in Turkey,
galled him), but he was convinced that he was destined to save
Russia and that that was why, against the Emperor's wish and by
the will of the people, he had been chosen commander in chief.
He was convinced that he alone could maintain command of the army
in these difficult circumstances, and that in all the world he
alone could encounter the invincible Napoleon without fear, and
he was horrified at the thought of the order he had to issue.
But something had to be decided, and these conversations around
him which were assuming too free a character must be stopped.
He called the most important generals to him.
"My head, be it good or bad, must depend on itself,"
said he, rising from the bench, and he rode to Fili where his
carriages were waiting.
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