War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy [716]
When Kutuzov came out of the study and, with his heavy, dipping gait, lowering his head, went through the reception room, someone’s voice stopped him.
“Your Serenity,” someone said.
Kutuzov raised his head and looked for a long time into the eyes of Count Tolstoy, who stood before him with some small object on a silver salver. Kutuzov seemed not to understand what was wanted of him.
Suddenly it was as if he remembered: a barely noticeable smile flashed across his puffy face, and with a low, respectful bow, he took the object that lay on the salver. It was the Order of St. George, first degree.
XI
The next day the field marshal gave a dinner and a ball, which the sovereign honored with his presence. The sovereign had conferred on Kutuzov the Order of St. George, first degree; he had shown him the highest honors; but the sovereign’s displeasure with the field marshal was known to everyone. The proprieties were observed, and the sovereign showed the first example of it; but everyone knew that the old man was at fault and good for nothing. When, at the ball, by the old habit of a courtier of Catherine’s time, Kutuzov, on the sovereign’s entrance into the ballroom, ordered the captured standards thrown down at his feet, the sovereign winced unpleasantly and spoke some words, among which some heard: “old comedian.”
The sovereign’s displeasure with Kutuzov increased in Vilno, particularly because Kutuzov obviously would not or could not understand the significance of the coming campaign.
When the sovereign said the next morning to the officers gathered around him, “You have not only saved Russia, you have saved Europe”—they all understood that the war was not yet over.
Kutuzov alone would not understand that and openly voiced his opinion that a new war could not improve the situation and increase the glory of Russia, but could only worsen its position and diminish the highest degree of glory at which, in his opinion, Russia now stood. He tried to demonstrate to the sovereign the impossibility of recruiting new troops; spoke of the hard conditions of the population, the possibility of failure, and so on.
Given such a state of mind, the field marshal naturally seemed only a hindrance and an obstacle in the way of the coming war.
To avoid confrontations with the old man, a way out was found of itself, which consisted, as at Austerlitz and at the beginning of the campaign under Barclay, in removing the ground of authority he stood on from under the commander in chief, without disturbing him or informing him of it, and transferring it to the sovereign himself.
To this end, the staff was gradually reorganized, and all the essential authority of Kutuzov’s staff was cancelled and transferred to the sovereign. Toll, Konovnitsyn, and Ermolov received other assignments. Everyone said aloud that the field marshal had grown very weak and his health was failing.
He had to be in weak health in order to give up his place and have someone else take over for him. And indeed his health was weak.
As naturally, and simply, and gradually as Kutuzov had come from Turkey to the treasury in Petersburg to raise a militia, and then to the army, precisely when he was needed, so now, just as naturally, gradually, and simply, when Kutuzov’s role had been played, there appeared in his place the new leader required.
The war of 1812, besides its national significance dear to the Russian heart, was to have another—this time European.
The movement of peoples from west to east was to be followed by a movement of peoples from east to west, and for this new war a new leader was needed, who had qualities and views different from Kutuzov’s and was moved by different incentives.
Alexander I was as necessary for the movement of peoples from east to west and for the restoration of national frontiers, as Kutuzov had been necessary for the salvation and glory of Russia.
Kutuzov did not understand the significance of Europe, balance,