Chapter 4 Chapter Four

At two o'clock a meeting was called in one of the spacious and best rooms of the peasant Andrei Savostyanov.The men, women, and children of this large farm family were all crowded into the chimneyless farmhouse across the hall.Only one of Andrei's granddaughters, Maratha, a little girl of six years old, stayed on the stove in the great room, and the Lord fondled her and gave her a lump of sugar at tea.Maratha looked timidly and joyfully from the fireplace at the faces of the generals, their uniforms and crosses, as they entered the room one after another, went straight to the guest seats, and sat down on the broad stools under the icon.Grandpa, Kutuzov, as Malasha called him in his heart, deliberately avoided the crowd and sat in a dark corner behind the stove.He was buried in a fold-out armchair, coughing and clearing his throat, and pulling at the collar of his coat, which was open, as if it was still stuck in his neck.People came to the field marshal one after another, some shook hands, some bowed.Adjutant Kesarov tried to draw the curtain opposite Kutuzov, but Kutuzov waved him angrily, and Kesarov understood that the Order did not want his face to be seen.

Maps, plans, pencils, and paper were placed on the fir table in the farmhouse. There were too many people to sit on the table, so the orderly had to bring another bench and put it beside the table.Sitting on this stool were Ermolov, Kesarov, and Thor who had just arrived.In the first place below the icon sat Barclay de Tolly, with the Cross of St. George, with a sickly pale face, whose high forehead merged with his bald neck.He had had malaria for two days and was chilling and falling apart.Sitting next to him was Uvarov, who was telling Barclay something in a low voice (as everyone talked) and with extremely quick gestures.The squat Dokhturov, with high eyebrows, folded his hands on his belly, listened intently.Sitting on the other side was Count Osterman-Tolstoy. He rested his angular and heroic head on his broad palm, showing a pensive look.Laevsky impatiently wrapped his black curls as usual, and looked now at Kutuzov, now at the door.Konovnitsyn had a gentle and sly smile on his resolute, beautiful and kind face.He caught Maratha's eye and gave her a wink, which amused the little girl.

Everyone was waiting for Bennigsen, who was still enjoying a delicious lunch on the pretext of inspecting the position again.Everyone waited from four o'clock to six o'clock. During the whole period of time, there was no formal meeting, just whispering about off-topic topics. Kutuzov got up from the corner just as Bennigsen entered the room and moved closer to the table, but only slightly so that the candle on the table did not reach his face. Bennigsen took the lead: "To lose Russia's sacred ancient capital without a fight? Or to defend it with a fight?" A long general silence ensued.Everyone was sullen, and in the silence only Kutuzov was heard angrily coughing phlegm down his throat.All eyes were on him.Malasa also looked at the old man.She was the closest to him, and when she saw him frowning, she was about to cry.But this time is not long.

"E.R.S.God.Holy.Old.U.D.!" he spoke suddenly, repeating Bennigsen's words in an angry voice, thereby pointing out the hypocrisy of these words. "Permit me to tell you, sir, that this question is considered meaningless by a Russian. (He leans forward with his heavy body.) Such a question should not be asked, such a question is meaningless. I invite these gentlemen We have come to discuss a military issue. The question is as follows: 'Saving Russia depends on the army. Is it worth sacrificing the army and risking a war with Moscow, or is it more beneficial to abandon Moscow and not fight this war? This is the question I want to know what you think where.'" (He staggers back in his chair.)

The debate unfolded.Bennigsen did not admit defeat.Although he agreed with Barclay and others that it was impossible to fight a defensive battle on the outskirts of Fili, after all, he was full of patriotism for Russia and deep affection for Moscow. He suggested that the army be transferred from the right wing to the left at night and attack the next day. French right wing.There are arguments for and against this opinion.Ermolov, Dohturov and Laevsky agreed with Bennigsen.I don't know whether the generals felt that some sacrifices should be made before abandoning the ancient capital, or it was out of other personal considerations, but they didn't seem to understand that this meeting could no longer change the course of events, and Moscow had now given up.The other generals understood this, and, leaving aside the question of Moscow, talked about where the troops should go when they withdrew.Marasa stared intently at what was happening before her eyes, and had different understandings of the meaning of the meeting.It seemed to her that it was all just a personal quarrel between "grandpa" and the robe wearer, whom she called Bennigsen.She could see the anger between the two of them talking, but her heart was for the old man.In the middle of the argument, she caught the old man throwing a quick, alert look at Bennigsen, and then she noticed with delight that the old man said something to the robed man that silenced him: Bennigsen flushed suddenly, Turning around the room angrily.What affected Bennigsen so much was Kutuzov's calm whispered opinion about the advantages and disadvantages of Bennigsen's proposal, namely, about the transfer of the army from the right to the left at night in order to launch an attack on the French army. Flank attack.

"Gentlemen, I," said Kutuzov, "cannot admire the count's plan. It is always dangerous to move troops within close range of the enemy, and military history confirms this opinion. For example..., (Kutuzov) Zoff, as if in thought, searched for examples and glanced at Bennigsen with a bright, innocent look.) Take the battle of Friedland, which, I think, the Count clearly remembered, It went . . . not entirely well, simply because our troops were redeploying too close to the enemy . . . ” There was a minute of silence, but it was felt to be an inordinately long time. The debate continued again, but it was interrupted from time to time, and there was a feeling that there was nothing to say.

-------- ① Friedland is in East Prussia.In 1807, the French and Russian armies confronted each other here. Bennigsen made a mistake in command, which led to the failure of the Russian army and the French army was able to invade Russia. During a break in the conversation, Kutuzov sighed deeply, as if about to speak.All looked at him. "Ehbien, messieurs! Jevoisquec'estmoiquipayerailespotscasses," he said, and getting up slowly, he went to the table. "Gentlemen, I have listened to your opinions. There are those who disapprove of me. But I (he paused) with the authority bestowed upon me by Your Majesty and the Fatherland, I—order a retreat."

-------- ①French: Ladies and gentlemen, it seems that I have to pay for the broken jar. The generals then exited solemnly, as if they had attended a funeral. Several generals talked to the commander-in-chief in low voices, and the tone of their speech was completely different from the speeches at the meeting. Malasa carefully climbed off the high plank bed with her back turned outwards. With bare feet, she groped for the steps of the wall stove. After getting off the ground, she stood between the generals' legs and ran out of the house. Her family was already waiting for her for dinner.

After dismissing the generals, Kutuzov sat for a long time with his elbows on the table, brooding over the dreaded question: "When, exactly, was it finally decided that Moscow should give up? When was it decided?" , whose fault is it?" "This, this I did not expect," he said to his adjutant Schneider who had come, and it was now late at night. "This I did not expect! This did not occur to me!" "It's time for you to rest, Your Honor," said the adjutant. "Not now! They'll chew horse meat, like the Turks," he growled, ignoring the adjutant, pounding the table with his flaccid fist, "and they will, if...