War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy [487]
“Go your way with God. I know, your way is the way of honor.” He paused. “I was sorry you weren’t in Bucharest: I needed someone to send.” And, changing the subject, Kutuzov began speaking about the Turkish war and the peace that had been concluded. “Yes, I’ve been reproached a good deal,” said Kutuzov, “both for the war and for the peace…but everything came at the right time. Tout vient à point à celui qui sait attendre.*451 And there, too, there were no fewer advisers than here…” he went on, returning to the advisers, who were clearly on his mind. “Ah, advisers, advisers!” he said. “If we’d listened to everybody there in Turkey, we wouldn’t have made peace and brought the war to an end. Everything quickly, but quick turns out to be slow. If Kamensky hadn’t died, he’d have been lost. He stormed fortresses with thirty thousand men.18 It’s not hard to take a fortress, it’s hard to win a campaign. And for that there’s no need to storm and attack, there’s need for patience and time. Kamensky sent soldiers to Rushchuk, but I, with just those two (patience and time), took more fortresses than Kamensky and made the Turks eat horseflesh.” He shook his head. “And the French will, too! Take my word for it,” Kutuzov said, becoming animated and beating his chest, “they’ll eat horseflesh for me!” And again his eyes glistened with tears.
“But won’t we have to accept battle?” said Prince Andrei.
“We’ll have to if everybody wants it, there’s no way around it…And yet, my dear boy, there’s nothing stronger than those two warriors, patience and time; they’d do it all, but the advisers n’entendent pas de cette oreille, voilà le mal.†452 Some want it, others don’t. What can we do?” he asked, evidently expecting an answer. “Yes, what would you have us do?” he repeated, and his eyes shone with a profound, intelligent expression. “I’ll tell you what to do,” he went on, since Prince Andrei still gave no answer. “I’ll tell you what to do, and what I do. Dans le doute, mon cher,” he paused, “abstiens-toi,”‡453 he pronounced measuredly.
“Well, good-bye, my dear friend; remember that I bear your loss with all my heart, and that for you I’m not a serenity, or a prince, or a commander in chief, but a father. If you need anything, come straight to me. Good-bye, my dear boy.” Again he embraced him and kissed him. And before Prince Andrei had time to get through the door, Kutuzov sighed and again picked up the unfinished novel by Mme de Genlis, Les chevaliers du Cygne.
How and why it happened, Prince Andrei could in no way have explained, but after this meeting with Kutuzov, he went back to his regiment relieved with regard to the general course of things and with regard to the man to whom it had been entrusted. The more he saw the absence of anything personal in this old man, in whom there seemed to remain only the habit of passions, and, instead of intelligence (which groups events and draws conclusions), only the ability to calmly contemplate the course of events, the more calmed he felt over everything being as it had to be. “He won’t have anything of his own. He won’t invent, won’t undertake anything,” thought Prince Andrei, “but he’ll listen to everything, remember everything, put everything in its place, won’t hinder anything useful or allow anything harmful. He understands that there is something stronger and more significant than his will—the inevitable course of events—and he’s able to see them, able to understand their significance,