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War in Peace, Book 3 Chapter 12, read for leapforks.org by Mark O'Neill.
Shortly after 9 o'clock that evening, Wayroather drove with his plans to Kutusov's quarters,
where the Council of War was to be held.
All the commanders of columns were summoned to the commander-in-chiefs, and with the
exception of Prince Begration, who declined to come, were all there at the appointed
time.
Wayroather, who was in full control of the proposed battle, by his eagerness and briskness,
presented a marked contrast to the dissatisfied and drowsy Kutusov, who reluctantly played
the part of Chairman and President of the Council of War.
Wayroather evidently felt himself to be the head of a movement that had already become
unrestrainable.
He was like a horse running downhill, harnessed to a heavy cart, whether he was pulling it
or being pushed by it, he did not know, but rushed along at headlong speeds, with no
time to consider what this movement might lead to.
Wayroather had been twice that evening, to the enemy's picket line, to reconitor personally,
and twice to the emperors, Russian and Austrian, to report and explain.
And to his headquarters, where he had dictated the dispositions in German, and now much exhausted,
he arrived at Kutusov's.
He was evidently so busy that he even forgot to be polite to the commander-in-chief.
He interrupted him, talked rapidly and indistinctly, without looking at the man he was addressing.
It did not reply to questions put to him.
He was whispered with mud, and had a pitiful, weary and distracted air, though at the same
time he was halty and self-confident.
Kutusov was occupying a noblemen's castle of modest dimensions, near Australis.
In the large drawing room which had become the commander-in-chief's office, where
gathered Kutusov himself, Wayroather, and the members of the council of war, they were
drinking tea, and only awaited Prince Begration to begin the council.
At last, Begration's orderly came in with the news that the prince could not attend.
Prince Andrew came in to inform the commander-in-chief of this, and availing himself of permission,
previously given him by Kutusov to be present at the council, he remained in the room.
Since Prince Begration is not coming, we may begin, said Wayroather, hurriedly rising
from his seat and going up to the table, on which an enormous map of the environs of
Brune were spread out.
Kutusov with his uniform unbuttoned, so that his fat neck bulged over his collar, as if
escaping, were sitting almost asleep in a low chair, with his podgey old hands resting
symmetrically on its arms.
At the sound of Wayroather's voice, he opened his one eye with an effort.
Yes, yes, if you please, it's already late, said he, and nodding his head, he let it
droop and again close to his eye.
If at first the members of the council thought that Kutusov was pretending to sleep, the
environs his nose emitted, joined the reading that followed, proved that the commander
in chief at that moment was absorbed by a far more serious matter than a desire to show
his content for the dispositions or anything else.
He was engaged in satisfying the irresistible human need for sleep.
He really was asleep.
Wayroather, with the gesture of a man too busy to lose a moment, glanced at Kutusov,
and having convinced himself that he was asleep, took up a paper, and in a loud monotonous
voice began to read out the dispositions for the impending battle, under a heading which
he also read out.
Dispositions for an attack on the enemy position, behind cobalnits and circleknits, November
30th, 1805.
The dispositions were very complicated and difficult, they began as follows.
As the enemy's left wing rests on wooded hills, and his right extends along cobalnits
and circleknits, behind the ponds that are there, while we on the other hand, with
our left wing by far, outflank is right.
It is advantageous to attack the enemy's lateral wing, especially if we occupy the villages
of circleknits and cobalnits, whereby we can both fall on his flank and pursue him over
the plain, between schleppinits and the thoraciforest, avoiding the defiles of schleppinits and
bellavits, which cover the enemy's front.
For this object, it is necessary that, the first column marches, the second column marches,
the third column marches, and so on, red wave rather.
The generals seemed to listen reluctantly to the difficult dispositions.
The tall fair here general Bucks Hauden stood, leaning his back against the wall, his
eyes fixed on a burning candle, and seemed not to listen to, or even to wish to be thought
to listen.
Exactly opposite wave rather, with his glistening wide open eyes, fixed upon him, and his
moustache twisted upwards, sat the ruddy Milovidovich in a military pose, his elbows turned
outward, his hands on his knees, and his shoulders raised.
He remained stubbornly silent, gazing at way rather's face, and only turning away
his eyes when the Oshrin chief of staff finished reading.
Then Milovidovich looked round significantly at the other generals.
It one could not tell from that significant look, whether he agreed or disagreed, and
was satisfied or not with the arrangements.
Just the way rather sat Count Langeron, who with a subtle smile that never left his typically
southern French face during the whole time of the reading, gazed at his delicate fingers,
with rapidly twirled by his corners, a gold snuff box on which was a portrait.
In the middle of one of the longest sentences, he stopped the rotary motion of the snuff
box, raised his head, and with immacable politeness, lurking in the corners of his thin
lips, interrupted way rather, wishing to say something.
But the Austrian general continued to read, frowned angrily, and jerked his elbows as
if to say, you can tell me you have used later, but now be so good as to look at the map
and listen.
Langeron lifted his eyes with an expression of perplexity, turned around to Milovidovich
as if seeking an explanation, but meeting the latter's impressive but meaningless gaze
drooped his eyes sadly, and again took to twirling his snuff box.
A geography lesson he muttered as if to himself, but loud enough to be heard.
Prepozuski, with respectful but dignified politeness, held his hand to his ear to watch
way rather, with the air of a man absorbed in attention.
Ditteroth, a little man, sat opposite way rather, with an asidious and modest mean, and
stripping over the outspread map, conscientiously studied the dispositions, and the unfamiliar
locality.
He asked way rather several times to repeat words he had not clearly heard, and the difficult
names of fillages, way rather complied and Ditteroth noted them down.
When the reading which lasted more than an hour was over, Langeron again brought his
snuff box to rest, and without looking at way rather, or at anyone in particular, began
to say how difficult it was to carry out such a plan in which the enemy's position
was assumed to be known, whereas it was perhaps not known, since the enemy was in movement.
Langeron's objections were valid, but it was obvious that their chief aim was to show
a general way rather, who had read his dispositions with as much self-confidence as if he was
addressing school children, that he had to do not with fills, but with men who could
teach him something in military matters.
When the monotonous sound of way rather's voice ceased, cutes off open his eye as a miller
wakes up when the super-rific drone of the male wheelers interruptes.
He listened to what Langeron said, as if remarking, so you are still at that silly business,
quickly closes eye again, and let his head sink still lower.
Langeron, trying as fervently as possible to sting way rather's vanity, as author of
the military plan, argued that Bonaparte might easily attack instead of being attacked,
and so render the whole of this plan perfectly worthless.
Waderoather met all objections with a firm and contemptuous smile, evidently prepared
beforehand to meet all objections, be they what they might.
If he could attack us he would have done so today, said he.
So you think he is powerless, said Langeron.
He has forty thousand men at most replied, Waderoather, with the smile of a doctor to
whom an old wife wishes to explain the treatment of a case.
In that case he is inviting his doom by awaiting our attacks at Langeron, with a subtly
ironical smile, again glancing round for support to Millidovich who was near him.
But Millidovich was at that moment evidently thinking of anything rather than of what
the generals were disputing about.
Mafua said he, tomorrow we shall see all that on the battlefield.
Waderoather again gave that smile which seemed to say that to him it was strange and ridiculous
to meet objections from Russian generals, and to have to prove to them what he had not
merely convinced himself of, but it also convinced the sovereign Emperor's off.
The enemy has quenched his fires, and a continual noise is heard from his camp said he.
What does that mean, either he is retreating, which is the only thing we need fear, or
he is changing his position, he smiled ironically.
But even if he also took up a position in the Thurasa, he merely saves us a great deal
of trouble, and all our arrangements for the minutest detail remain the same.
How is that, began Prince Andrew, who had for long been waiting an opportunity to express
his doubts?
He is off here woke up, coughed heavily, and lute round at the generals.
Gentleman, the dispossessions for tomorrow, or rather for today for it is past midnight,
cannot now be altered said he.
You have heard them, and we shall all do our duty.
But before a battle there is nothing more important, he paused, than to have a good sleep.
He moved as if to rise.
The generals bowed and retired, it was past midnight, Prince Andrew went out.
The council of war at which Prince Andrew had not been able to express his opinion as
he had hoped to, left on him a vague and uneasy impression, with a dogar off and wayroather
or kutasoth, langaron and the others who did not approve of the plan of attack, were
right, he did not know.
But was it really not possible for kutasoth to state his views plainly to the emperor?
Is it possible that on account of court and personal considerations, tens of thousands
of lives, and my life, my life he thought, must be risked?
Yes, it is very likely that I shall be killed tomorrow he thought.
And suddenly at this thought of death, a whole series of most distant, most intimate memories
rose in his imagination.
He remembered his last parting from his father and his wife.
He remembered the days when he first loved her, he thought of her pregnancy and felt sorry
for her, and for himself.
And in an nervously emotional and soft mood, he went out of the hut in which he was
built with Novitsky and began to walk up and down before it.
The night was foggy, and through the fog the moonlight gleamed mysteriously.
Yes, tomorrow, tomorrow he thought, tomorrow everything may be over for me.
All these memories will be no more, none of them will have any meaning for me.
Tomorrow perhaps, even sessionally, I have a pre-sensimate that for the first time I
shall have to show all I can do.
At his fancy picture of the battle, its loss, the concentration of fighting at one point,
and the hesitation of all the commanders.
And then had happy moments, that too long for which he had long waited, presents itself
to him at last.
He firmly and clearly expresses his opinion to cut us off, to a way rather, and to the
emperors.
All are struck by the justice of his views, but no one undertakes to carried them out,
so he takes a regiment.
A division stipulates that no one is to interfere with his arrangements, leads his division
to the decisive point, and gains the victory alone.
But death and suffering suggested another voice.
Prince Andrew however did not answer that voice, and went on dreaming of his trials.
The dispossessions for the next battle are planned by him alone.
Not manually, he is only an adjutant on cut us off staff, but he does everything alone.
The next battle is one by him alone, cut us off is removed, and he is appointed.
Well and then asked the other voice, if before that you are not ten times wounded, killed
or betrayed, well what then?
Well then Prince Andrew answered himself, I don't know what will happen, and don't want
to know, and can't, but if I want this, want glory, want to be known to men, want to be
loved by them, it is not my fault that I wanted, and want nothing but that, and live only
for that.
Yes, for that alone.
I shall never tell anyone, but oh God, what am I to do if I love nothing but fame in
men's esteem?
Death wounds the loss of family, I fear nothing, and precious and dear as many persons are to
me, father, sister, wife, those dearest to me, yet dreadful and unnatural as it seems,
I would give them all at once for a moment of glory, of triumph over men, of men here
he thought.
As he listened to voices in Kutuzof's courtyard, the voices were those of the orderlies who
were packing up, one voice, probably a coachman, was teasing Kutuzof's old cook, who in Prince
Andrew knew, and who was called tit, he was saying, tit I say, tit, well return the old man,
go tit, thresh a bit said the wike, all go to the devil called out a voice, drowned
by the laughter of the orderlies and servants.
All the same I love and value nothing, but triumph over them all, I value this mystic
power and glory that is floating here above me in this mist.
of Chapter 12, recording by Marco Niel, Votsburg, Germany, www.betterthantherapy.net
