War and Peace

ext day the field marshal gave a dinner and ball which the Emperor
honored by his presence. Kutúzov had received the Order of St. George
of the First Class and the Emperor showed him the highest honors, but
everyone knew of the imperial dissatisfaction with him. The proprieties
were observed and the Emperor was the first to set that example,
but everybody understood that the old man was blameworthy and
good-for-nothing. When Kutúzov, conforming to a custom of Catherine’s
day, ordered the standards that had been captured to be lowered at the
Emperor’s feet on his entering the ballroom, the Emperor made a wry face
and muttered something in which some people caught the words, “the old
comedian.”

The Emperor’s displeasure with Kutúzov was specially increased at Vílna
by the fact that Kutúzov evidently could not or would not understand the
importance of the coming campaign.

When on the following morning the Emperor said to the officers assembled
about him: “You have not only saved Russia, you have saved Europe!” they
all understood that the war was not ended.

Kutúzov alone would not see this and openly expressed his opinion that
no fresh war could improve the position or add to the glory of Russia,
but could only spoil and lower the glorious position that Russia had
gained. He tried to prove to the Emperor the impossibility of levying
fresh troops, spoke of the hardships already endured by the people, of
the possibility of failure and so forth.

This being the field marshal’s frame of mind he was naturally regarded
as merely a hindrance and obstacle to the impending war.

To avoid unpleasant encounters with the old man, the natural method was
to do what had been done with him at Austerlitz and with Barclay at
the beginning of the Russian campaign—to transfer the authority to the
Emperor himself, thus cutting the ground from under the commander in
chief’s feet without upsetting the old man by informing him of the
change.

With this object his staff was gradually reconstructed and its real
strength removed and transferred to the Emperor. Toll, Konovnítsyn, and
Ermólov received fresh appointments. Everyone spoke loudly of the field
marshal’s great weakness and failing health.

His health had to be bad for his place to be taken away and given to
another. And in fact his health was poor.

So naturally, simply, and gradually—just as he had come from Turkey to
the Treasury in Petersburg to recruit the militia, and then to the army
when he was needed there—now when his part was played out, Kutúzov’s
place was taken by a new and necessary performer.

The war of 1812, besides its national significance dear to every Russian
heart, was now to assume another, a European, significance.

The movement of peoples from west to east was to be succeeded by a
movement of peoples from east to west, and for this fresh war another
leader was necessary, having qualities and views differing from
Kutúzov’s and animated by different motives.

Alexander I was as necessary for the movement of the peoples from east
to west and for the refixing of national frontiers as Kutúzov had been
for the salvation and glory of Russia.

Kutúzov did not understand what Europe, the balance of power, or
Napoleon meant. He could not understand it. For the representative of
the Russian people, after the enemy had been destroyed and Russia had
been liberated and raised to the summit of her glory, there was nothing
left to do as a Russian. Nothing remained for the representative of the
national war but to die, and Kutúzov died.