War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy [164]
It was already late in the evening when they entered the Olmütz palace, which was occupied by the emperors and their retinues.
On that same day there had been a council of war in which all the members of the Hofkriegsrath and both emperors took part. At the council, in opposition to the opinion of the old men—Kutuzov and Prince Schwarzenberg—it was decided to go on the offensive immediately and give general battle to Bonaparte. The council of war had just ended when Prince Andrei, accompanied by Boris, came to the palace to look for Prince Dolgorukov. The headquarters personnel were all still under the charm of that day’s council of war, which had been victorious for the younger party. The voices of the foot-draggers, who advised waiting for something else and not going on the offensive, had been so unanimously stifled and their arguments refuted by the indubitable proofs of the advantages of an offensive, that what was talked about at the council—the future battle and undoubted victory—seemed no longer future but past. All the advantages were on our side. Enormous forces, undoubtedly superior to Napoleon’s, were massed in one place; the troops were inspired by the presence of the emperors and straining for action; the strategic point at which they were to act was known in the smallest detail to the Austrian general Weyrother, who was leading the army (as if by a lucky chance, the Austrian troops had been on maneuvers a year before precisely on the fields where they were now to fight the French); the lay of the land was known and mapped in the smallest detail; and Bonaparte, obviously weakened, was undertaking nothing.
Dolgorukov, one of the most fervent advocates of the offensive, had just come back from the council, weary, exhausted, but animated and proud of the victory won. Prince Andrei introduced the officer he was patronizing, but Prince Dolgorukov, giving him a polite and firm handshake, said nothing to Boris and, obviously unable to keep from speaking out the thoughts that occupied him most at that moment, addressed Prince Andrei in French.
“Well, my friend, what a battle we went through! God only grant that the one that results from it is as victorious. However, my dear,” he spoke haltingly and animatedly, “I must confess my guilt before the Austrians and especially before Weyrother. What precision, what detail, what knowledge of the terrain, what foresight of all possibilities, all conditions, all the smallest details! No, my dear, more advantageous conditions than those we find ourselves in could not be purposely invented. The combination of Austrian clarity with Russian courage—what more do you want?”
“So the offensive is definitely decided upon?” asked Bolkonsky.
“And you know, my friend, it seems to me that Bonaparte has decidedly lost his Latin.4 You know, a letter to the emperor came from him today.” Dolgorukov smiled significantly.
“Well, now! What does he write?” asked Bolkonsky.
“What can he write? Fal-di-diddle-da and the like, all only with the purpose of gaining time. I tell you, he’s in our hands, that’s certain. But the most amusing thing,” he said, suddenly laughing good-naturedly, “is that we simply couldn’t decide how to address the reply! If not as consul, and naturally not as emperor, then as General Buonaparte, it seemed to me.”
“But there’s a difference between not acknowledging him as emperor and calling him General Buonaparte,” said Bolkonsky.
“That’s just it,” Dolgorukov interrupted, laughing and speaking quickly. “You know Bilibin, he’s a very intelligent man, he suggested addressing him as ‘Usurper and Enemy of the Human Race.’”
Dolgorukov burst into merry laughter.
“No more than that?” remarked Bolkonsky.
“But anyhow Bilibin found a serious title of address. A witty and intelligent man…”
“What is it?”
“‘To the head of the French Government, Au chef du gouvernement français,’” Dolgorukov said seriously and with satisfaction. “It’s