BOOK ELEVEN: 1812
3. CHAPTER III
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.
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