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Anna Karenina
War And Peace
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champions," thought Kutuzov.
He knew that an apple should not be plucked while it is green. It will
fall of itself when ripe, but if picked unripe the apple is spoiled,
the tree is harmed, and your teeth are set on edge. Like an
experienced sportsman he knew that the beast was wounded, and
wounded as only the whole strength of Russia could have wounded it,
but whether it was mortally wounded or not was still an undecided
question. Now by the fact of Lauriston and Barthelemi having been
sent, and by the reports of the guerrillas, Kutuzov was almost sure
that the wound was mortal. But he needed further proofs and it was
necessary to wait.
"They want to run to see how they have wounded it. Wait and we shall
see! Continual maneuvers, continual advances!" thought he. "What
for? Only to distinguish themselves! As if fighting were fun. They are
like children from whom one cant get any sensible account of what has
happened because they all want to show how well they can fight. But
thats not what is needed now.
"And what ingenious maneuvers they all propose to me! It seems to
them that when they have thought of two or three contingencies" (he
remembered the general plan sent him from Petersburg) "they have
foreseen everything. But the contingencies are endless."
The undecided question as to whether the wound inflicted at Borodino
was mortal or not had hung over Kutuzovs head for a whole month. On
the one hand the French had occupied Moscow. On the other Kutuzov felt
assured with all his being that the terrible blow into which he and
all the Russians had put their whole strength must have been mortal.
But in any case proofs were needed; he had waited a whole month for
them and grew more impatient the longer he waited. Lying on his bed
during those sleepless nights he did just what he reproached those
younger generals for doing. He imagined all sorts of possible
contingencies, just like the younger men, but with this difference,
that he saw thousands of contingencies instead of two or three and
based nothing on them. The longer he thought the more contingencies
presented themselves. He imagined all sorts of movements of the
Napoleonic army as a whole or in sections--against Petersburg, or
against him, or to outflank him. He thought too of the possibility
(which he feared most of all) that Napoleon might fight him with his
own weapon and remain in Moscow awaiting him. Kutuzov even imagined
that Napoleons army might turn back through Medyn and Yukhnov, but
the one thing he could not foresee was what happened--the insane,
convulsive stampede of Napoleons army during its first eleven days
after leaving Moscow: a stampede which made possible what Kutuzov
had not yet even dared to think of--the complete extermination of
the French. Dorokhovs report about Broussiers division, the
guerrillas reports of distress in Napoleons army, rumors of
preparations for leaving Moscow, all confirmed the supposition that
the French army was beaten and preparing for flight. But these were
only suppositions, which seemed important to the younger men but not
to Kutuzov. With his sixty years experience he knew what value to
attach to rumors, knew how apt people who desire anything are to group
all news so that it appears to confirm what they desire, and he knew
how readily in such cases they omit all that makes for the contrary.
And the more he desired it the less he allowed himself to believe
it. This question absorbed all his mental powers. All else was to
him only lifes customary routine. To such customary routine
belonged his conversations with the staff, the letters he wrote from
Tarutino to Madame de Stael, the reading of novels, the distribution
of awards, his correspondence with Petersburg, and so on. But the
destruction of the French, which he alone foresaw, was his hearts one
desire.
On the night of the eleventh of October he lay leaning on his arm
and thinking of that.
There was a stir in the next room and he heard the steps of Toll,
Konovnitsyn, and Bolkhovitinov.
"Eh, whos there? Come in, come in! What news?" the field marshal
called out to them.
While a footman was lighting a candle, Toll communicated the
substance of the news.
"Who brought it?" asked Kutuzov with a look which, when the candle
was lit, struck Toll by its cold severity.
"There can be no doubt about it, your Highness."
"Call him in, call him here."
Kutuzov sat up with one leg hanging down from the bed and
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