战争与和平(上)-第294部分

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But　words　alone　would　be　no　proof　that　he　grasped　the　significance　of　events　at　the　time。　His　actions—all　without　the　slightest　deviation—　were　directed　toward　the　one　threefold　aim：　first；　to　concentrate　all　his　forces　to　strike　a　blow　at　the　French；　secondly；　to　defeat　them；　and　thirdly；　to　drive　them　out　of　Russia；　alleviating　as　far　as　was　possible　the　sufferings　of　the　people　and　the　soldiers　in　doing　so。
He；　the　lingerer　Kutuzov；　whose　motto　was　always　“Time　and　Patience；”　the　sworn　opponent　of　precipitate　action；　he　fought　the　battle　of　Borodino；　and　made　all　his　preparations　for　it　with　unwonted　solemnity。　Before　the　battle　of　Austerlitz　he　foretold　that　it　would　be　lost；　but　at　Borodino；　in　spite　of　the　conviction　of　the　generals　that　the　battle　was　a　defeat；　in　spite　of　the　fact；　unprecedented　in　history；　of　his　army　being　forced　to　retreat　after　the　victory；　he　alone　declared　in　opposition　to　all　that　it　was　a　victory；　and　persisted　in　that　opinion　to　his　dying　day。　He　was　alone　during　the　whole　latter　part　of　the　campaign　in　insisting　that　there　was　no　need　of　fighting　now；　that　it　was　a　mistake　to　cross　the　Russian　frontier　and　to　begin　a　new　war。　It　is　easy　enough　now　that　all　the　events　with　their　consequences　lie　before　us　to　grasp　their　significance；　if　only　we　refrain　from　attributing　to　the　multitude　the　aims　that　only　existed　in　the　brains　of　some　dozen　or　so　of　men。
But　how　came　that　old　man；　alone　in　opposition　to　the　opinion　of　all；　to　gauge　so　truly　the　importance　of　events　from　the　national　standard；　so　that　he　never　once　was　false　to　the　best　interests　of　his　country？
The　source　of　this　extraordinary　intuition　into　the　significance　of　contemporary　events　lay　in　the　purity　and　fervour　of　patriotic　feeling　in　his　heart。
It　was　their　recognition　of　this　feeling　in　him　that　led　the　people　in　such　a　strange　manner　to　pick　him　out；　an　old　man　out　of　favour；　as　the　chosen　leader　of　the　national　war；　against　the　will　of　the　Tsar。　And　this　feeling　alone　it　was　to　which　he　owed　his　exalted　position；　and　there　he　exerted　all　his　powers　as　commander…in…chief　not　to　kill　and　maim　men；　but　to　save　them　and　have　mercy　on　them。
This　simple；　modest；　and　therefore　truly　great　figure；　could　not　be　cast　into　the　false　mould　of　the　European　hero；　the　supposed　leader　of　men；　that　history　has　invented。
To　the　flunkey　no　man　can　be　great；　because　the　flunkey　has　his　own　flunkey　conception　of　greatness。


Chapter　6
THE　5TH　of　November　was　the　first　day　of　the　so…called　battle　of　Krasnoe。
Many　had　been　the　blunders　and　disputes　among　the　generals；　who　had　not　reached　their　proper　places；　many　the　contradictory　orders　carried　to　them　by　adjutants；　but　towards　evening　it　was　clear　that　the　enemy　were　everywhere　in　flight；　and　that　there　would　not　and　could　not　be　a　battle。　In　the　evening　Kutuzov　set　out　from　Krasnoe　towards　Dobroe；　to　which　place　the　headquarters　had　that　day　been　removed。
It　had　been　a　clear；　frosty　day。　Kutuzov；　mounted　on　his　fat；　white　little　horse；　was　riding　towards　Dobroe；　followed　by　an　immense　suite　of　generals；　whispering　their　dissatisfaction　behind　his　back。　Seven　thousand　French　prisoners　had　been　taken　that　day；　and　all　along　the　road　they　met　parties　of　them；　crowding　to　warm　themselves　round　the　camp…fires。　Not　far　from　Dobroe　they　heard　a　loud　hum　of　talk　from　an　immense　crowd　of　tattered　prisoners；　bandaged　and　wrapped　up　in　rags　of　all　sorts；　standing　in　the　road　near　a　long　row　of　unharnessed　French　cannons。　At　the　approach　of　the　commander…in…chief　the　buzz　of　talk　died　away；　and　all　eyes　were　fixed　upon　Kutuzov；　who　moved　slowly　along　the　road；　wearing　a　white　cap　with　a　red　band；　and　a　wadded　overcoat；　that　set　in　a　hunch　on　his　round　shoulders。　One　of　the　generals　began　explaining　to　Kutuzov　where　the　prisoners　and　the　guns　had　been　taken。
Kutuzov　seemed　absorbed　in　anxious　thought；　and　did　not　hear　the　general’s　words。　He　screwed　up　his　eyes　with　an　air　of　displeasure；　and　gazed　intently　at　the　figures　of　the　prisoners；　who　presented　a　particularly　pitiable　appearance。　The　majority　of　the　French　soldiers　were　disfigured　by　frost…bitten　cheeks　and　noses；　and　almost　all　of　them　had　red；　swollen；　and　streaming　eyes。
One　group　of　Frenchmen　was　standing　close　by　the　road；　and　two　soldiers；　one　with　his　face　covered　with　sores；　were　tearing　at　a　piece　of　raw　meat　with　their　hands。　There　was　something　bestial　and　horrible　in　the　cursory　glance　they　cast　on　the　approaching　generals；　and　the　frenzied　expression　with　which　the　soldier　with　the　sore　face；　after　a　glance　at　Kutuzov；　turned　away　and　went　on　with　what　he　was　doing。
Kutuzov　looked　a　long　while　intently　at　these　two　soldiers；　frowning　more　than　before；　he　half…closed　his　eyelids；　and　shook　his　head　thoughtfully。　Further　on；　he　noticed　a　Russian　soldier；　who　was　saying　something　friendly　to　a　French　prisoner；　laughing　and　clapping　him　on　the　shoulder。　Kutuzov　shook　his　head　again　with　the　same　expression。
“What　do　you　say？”　he　asked　the　general；　who　was　trying　to　draw　the　commander…in…chief’s　attention　to　the　French　flags；　that　were　set　up　in　front　of　the　Preobrazhensky　regiment。
“Ah；　the　flags！”　said　Kutuzov；　rousing　himself　with　evident　difficulty　from　the　subject　absorbing　his　thoughts。　He　looked　about　him　absently。　Thousands　of　eyes　were　gazing　at　him　from　all　sides；　waiting　for　his　words。
He　came　to　a　standstill　before　the　Preobrazhensky　regiment；　sighed　heavily　and　closed　his　eyes。　One　of　the　suite　beckoned　to　the　soldiers　holding　the　flags　to　come　up　and　set　up　the　flagstaffs　around　the　commander…in…chief。　Kutuzov　was　silent　for　a　few　seconds。　Then　with　obvious　reluctance；　yielding　to　the　obligations　of　his　position；　he　raised　his　head　and　began　to　speak。　Crowds　of　officers　gathered　round　him。　He　scanned　the　circle　of　officers　with　an　attentive　eye；　recognising　some　of　them。
“I　thank　you　all！”　he　said；　addressing　the　soldiers；　and　then　again　turning　to　the　officers。　In　the　deep　stillness　that　prevailed　all　round　him；　his　slowly　articulated　words　were　distinctly　audible：　“I　thank　you　all　for　your　hard　and　faithful　service。　The　victory　is　complete；　and　Russia　will　not　forget　you。　Your　glory　will　be　for　ever！”　He　paused；　looking　about　him。
“Lower；　bow　his　head　lower；”　he　said　to　the　soldier；　who　was　holding　the　French　eagle；　and　had　accidentally　lowered　it　before　the　Preobrazhensky　standard。
“Lower；　lower；　that’s　it。　Hurrah；　lads！”　he　said；　his　chin　moving　quickly　as　he　turned　to　the　soldiers。
“Hurrah…rah…rah！”　thousands　of　voices　roared。
While　the　soldiers　were　shouting；　Kutuzov；　bending　forward　in　his　saddle；　bowed　his　head；　and　his　eyes　gleamed　with　a　mild　and；　as　it　were；　ironical　light。
“And　now；　brothers　…”　he　said；　when　the　shouts　had　died　away。
And　all　at　once　his　face　and　expression　changed：　it　was　not　the　commander…in…chief　speaking　now；　but　a　simple；　aged　man；　who　plainly　wanted　to　say　something　most　important　now　to　his　comrades。
“And　now；　brothers。　I　know　it’s　hard　for　you；　but　there’s　no　help　for　it！　Have　a　little　patience；　it　won’t　last　much　longer。　We　will　see　our　visitors　off；　and　then　we　will　rest。　The　Tsar　won’t　forget　your　services。　It’s　hard　for　you；　but　still　you　are　at　home；　while　they—you　see　what　they　have　come　to；”　he　said；　pointing　to　the　prisoners。　“Worse　than　the　lowest　beggars。　While　they　were　strong；　we　did　not　spare　ourselves；　but　now　we　can　even　spare　them。　They　too　are　men。　Eh；　lads？”
He　looked　about　him。　And　in　the　unflinching；　respectfully　wondering　eyes　staring　persistently　at　him；　he　read　sympathy　with　his　words。　His　face　grew　brighter　and　brighter　with　the　gentle　smile　of　old　age；　that　brought　clusters　of　wrinkles　at　the　corners　of　his　mouth　and　his　eyes。　He　paused　and　dropped　his　head；　as　though　in　doubt。
“But　after　all　is　said　and　done；　who　asked　them　to　come　here？　It　serves　them　right；　the　b—　b—”　he　said　suddenly；　lifting　his　head。　And　swinging　his　riding…whip；　he　rode　off　at　a　gallop；　accompanied　for　the　first　time　during　the　whole　campaign　by　gleeful　guffaws　and　roars　of　hurrah　from　the　men　as　they　moved　out　of　rank。
The　words　uttered　by　Kutuzov　were　hardly　understood　by　the　soldiers。　No　one　could　have　repeated　the　field…marshal’s　speech　at　first　of　such　solemnity；　and　towards　the　end　of　such　homely　simplicity。　But　the　meaning　at　the　bottom　of　his　words；　they　understood　very　well；　and　the　same　feeling　of　solemn　triumph　in　their　victory；　together　with　pity　for　the　enemy　and　the　sense　of　the　justice　of　their　cause—expressed；　too；　with　precisely　the　same　homely　coarseness—lay　at　the　bottom　of　every　soldier’s　heart；　and　found　a　vent　in　delighted　shouts；　that　did　not　cease　for　a　long　while。　When　one　of　the　generals　addressed　the　commander…in…chief　after　this；　asking　whether　he　desired　his　carriage；　Kutuzov　broke　into　a　sudden　sob　in　replying。　He　was　evidently　deeply　moved。


Chapter　7
IT　was　getting　dusk　on　the　8th　of　November；　the　last　day　of　the　battle　of　Krasnoe；　when　the　soldiers　reached　their　halting…place　for　the　night。　The　whole　day　had　been　still　and　frosty；　with　now　and　then　a　few　light　flakes　of　snow。　Towards　evening　the　sky　began　to　grow　clearer。　Through　the　snowflakes　could　be　seen　a　dark；　purplish；　starlit　sky；　and　the　frost　was　growing　more　intense。
A　regiment　of　musketeers；　which　had　left　Tarutino　three　thousand　strong；　but　had　now　dwindled　to　nine　hundred；　was　among　the　first　to　reach　the　halting…place；　a　village　on　the　high　road。　The　quartermasters；　on　meeting　the　regiment；　reported　that　all　the　cottages　were　full　of　sick　and　dead　Frenchmen；　cavalrymen；　and　staff…officers。　There　was　only　one　cottage　left　for　the　colonel　of　the　regiment。
The　colonel　went　on　to　his　cottage。　The　regiment　passed　through　the　village；　and　stacked　their　guns　up　at　the　furthest　cottages　along　the　road。
Like　a　huge；　many…legged　monster；　the　regiment　set　to　work　preparing　its　food　and　lodging　for　the　night。　One　party　of　soldiers　trudged　off；　knee…deep　in　the　snow；　into　the　birch　copse；　on　the　right　of　the　village；　and　the　ring　of　axes　and　cutlasses；　the　crash　of　breaking　branches；　and　the　sounds　of　merry　voices　were　immediately　heard　coming　thence。　Another　group　were　busily　at　work　all　round　the　regimental　baggage…waggons；　which　were　drawn　up　a