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“Most Gracious Sovereign and Emperor!” Prince Vasli sternly declaimed, looking round at his audience as if to inquire whether anyone had anything to say to the contrary. But no one said anything. “Moscow, our ancient capital, the New Jerusalem, receives her Christ”—he placed a sudden emphasis on the word her—“as a mother receives her zealous sons into her arms, and through the gathering mists, foreseeing the brilliant glory of thy rule, sings in exultation, ‘Hosanna, blessed is he that cometh!’”
Prince Vasli pronounced these last words in a tearful voice.
Bilbin attentively examined his nails, and many of those present appeared intimidated, as if asking in what they were to blame. Anna Pvlovna whispered the next words in advance, like an old woman muttering the prayer at Communion: “Let the bold and insolent Goliath...” she whispered.
Prince Vasli continued.
“Let the bold and insolent Goliath from the borders of France encompass the realms of Russia with death-bearing terrors; humble Faith, the sling of the Russian David, shall suddenly smite his head in his bloodthirsty pride. This icon of the Venerable Sergius, the servant of God and zealous champion of old of our country’s weal, is offered to Your Imperial Majesty. I grieve that my waning strength prevents rejoicing in the sight of your most gracious presence. I raise fervent prayers to Heaven that the Almighty may exalt the race of the just, and mercifully fulfill the desires of Your Majesty.”
“What force! What a style!” was uttered in approval both of reader and of author.
Animated by that address Anna Pvlovna’s guests talked for a long time of the state of the fatherland and offered various conjectures as to the result of the battle to be fought in a few days.
“You will see,” said Anna Pvlovna, “that tomorrow, on the Emperor’s birthday, we shall receive news. I have a favorable presentiment!”
Anna Pvlovna’s presentiment was in fact fulfilled. Next day during the service at the palace church in honor of the Emperor’s birthday, Prince Volknski was called out of the church and received a dispatch from Prince Kutzov. It was Kutzov’s report, written from Tatrinova on the day of the battle. Kutzov wrote that the Russians had not retreated a step, that the French losses were much heavier than ours, and that he was writing in haste from the field of battle before collecting full information. It followed that there must have been a victory. And at once, without leaving the church, thanks were rendered to the Creator for His help and for the victory.
Anna Pvlovna’s presentiment was justified, and all that morning a joyously festive mood reigned in the city. Everyone believed the victory to have been complete, and some even spoke of Napoleon’s having been captured, of his deposition, and of the choice of a new ruler for France.
It is very difficult for events to be reflected in their real strength and completeness amid the conditions of court life and far from the scene of action. General events involuntarily group themselves around some particular incident. So now the courtiers’ pleasure was based as much on the fact that the news had arrived on the Emperor’s birthday as on the fact of the victory itself. It was like a successfully arranged surprise. Mention was made in Kutzov’s report of the Russian losses, among which figured the names of Tchkov, Bagratin, and Kutysov. In the Petersburg world this sad side of the affair again involuntarily centered round a single incident: Kutysov’s death. Everybody knew him, the Emperor liked him, and he was young and interesting. That day everyone met with the words:
“What a wonderful coincidence! Just during the service. But what a loss Kutysov is! How sorry I am!”
“What did I tell about Kutzov?” Prince Vasli now said with a prophet’s pride. “I always said he was the only man capable of defeating Napoleon.”
But next day no news arrived from the army and the public mood grew anxious. The courtiers suffered because of the suffering the suspense occasioned the Emperor.
“Fancy the Emperor’s position!” said they, and instead of extolling Kutzov as they had done the day before, they condemned him as the cause of the Emperor’s anxiety. That day Prince Vasli no longer boasted of his protg Kutzov, but remained silent when the commander in chief was mentioned. Moreover, toward evening, as if everything conspired to make Petersburg society anxious and uneasy, a terrible piece of news was added. Countess Hlne Bezkhova had suddenly died of that terrible malady it had been so agreeable to mention. Officially, at large gatherings, everyone said that Countess Bezkhova had died of a terrible attack of angina pectoris, but in intimate circles details were mentioned of how the private physician of the Queen of Spain had prescribed small doses of a certain drug to produce a certain effect; but Hlne, tortured by the fact that the old count suspected her and that her husband to whom she had written (that wretched, profligate Pierre) had not replied, had suddenly taken a very large dose of the drug, and had died in agony before assistance could be rendered her. It was said that Prince Vasli and the old count had turned upon the Italian, but the latter had produced such letters from the unfortunate deceased that they had immediately let the matter drop.
Talk in general centered round three melancholy facts: the Emperor’s lack of news, the loss of Kutysov, and the death of Hlne.
On the third day after Kutzov’s report a country gentleman arrived from Moscow, and news of the surrender of Moscow to the French spread through the whole town. This was terrible! What a position for the Emperor to be in! Kutzov was a traitor, and Prince Vasli during the visits of condolence paid to him on the occasion of his daughter’s death said of Kutzov, whom he had formerly praised (it was excusable for him in his grief to forget what he had said), that it was impossible to expect anything else from a blind and depraved old man.
“I only wonder that the fate of Russia could have been entrusted to such a man.”
As long as this news remained unofficial it was possible to doubt it, but the next day the following communication was received from Count Rostopchn:
Prince Kutzov’s adjutant has brought me a letter in which he demands police officers to guide the army to the Ryazn road. He writes that he is regretfully abandoning Moscow. Sire! Kutzov’s action decides the fate of the capital and of your empire! Russia will shudder to learn of the abandonment of the city in which her greatness is centered and in which lie the ashes of your ancestors! I shall follow the army. I have had everything removed, and it only remains for me to weep over the fate of my fatherland.
