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Having left Petersburg on the seventh of December with his suite—Count Tolsty, Prince Volknski, Arakchev, and others—the Emperor reached Vlna on the eleventh, and in his traveling sleigh drove straight to the castle. In spite of the severe frost some hundred generals and staff officers in full parade uniform stood in front of the castle, as well as a guard of honor of the Semnov regiment.
A courier who galloped to the castle in advance, in a troyka with three foam-flecked horses, shouted “Coming!” and Konovntsyn rushed into the vestibule to inform Kutzov, who was waiting in the hall porter’s little lodge.
A minute later the old man’s large stout figure in full-dress uniform, his chest covered with orders and a scarf drawn round his stomach, waddled out into the porch. He put on his hat with its peaks to the sides and, holding his gloves in his hand and walking with an effort sideways down the steps to the level of the street, took in his hand the report he had prepared for the Emperor.
There was running to and fro and whispering; another troyka flew furiously up, and then all eyes were turned on an approaching sleigh in which the figures of the Emperor and Volknski could already be descried.
From the habit of fifty years all this had a physically agitating effect on the old general. He carefully and hastily felt himself all over, readjusted his hat, and pulling himself together drew himself up and, at the very moment when the Emperor, having alighted from the sleigh, lifted his eyes to him, handed him the report and began speaking in his smooth, ingratiating voice.
The Emperor with a rapid glance scanned Kutzov from head to foot, frowned for an instant, but immediately mastering himself went up to the old man, extended his arms and embraced him. And this embrace too, owing to a long-standing impression related to his innermost feelings, had its usual effect on Kutzov and he gave a sob.
The Emperor greeted the officers and the Semnov guard, and again pressing the old man’s hand went with him into the castle.
When alone with the field marshal the Emperor expressed his dissatisfaction at the slowness of the pursuit and at the mistakes made at Krsnoe and the Berzina, and informed him of his intentions for a future campaign abroad. Kutzov made no rejoinder or remark. The same submissive, expressionless look with which he had listened to the Emperor’s commands on the field of Austerlitz seven years before settled on his face now.
When Kutzov came out of the study and with lowered head was crossing the ballroom with his heavy waddling gait, he was arrested by someone’s voice saying:
“Your Serene Highness!”
Kutzov raised his head and looked for a long while into the eyes of Count Tolsty, who stood before him holding a silver salver on which lay a small object. Kutzov seemed not to understand what was expected of him.
Suddenly he seemed to remember; a scarcely perceptible smile flashed across his puffy face, and bowing low and respectfully he took the object that lay on the salver. It was the Order of St. George of the First Class.
Next day the field marshal gave a dinner and ball which the Emperor honored by his presence. Kutzov had received the Order of St. George of the First Class and the Emperor showed him the highest honors, but everyone knew of the imperial dissatisfaction with him. The proprieties were observed and the Emperor was the first to set that example, but everybody understood that the old man was blameworthy and good-for-nothing. When Kutzov, conforming to a custom of Catherine’s day, ordered the standards that had been captured to be lowered at the Emperor’s feet on his entering the ballroom, the Emperor made a wry face and muttered something in which some people caught the words, “the old comedian.”
The Emperor’s displeasure with Kutzov was specially increased at Vlna by the fact that Kutzov evidently could not or would not understand the importance of the coming campaign.
When on the following morning the Emperor said to the officers assembled about him: “You have not only saved Russia, you have saved Europe!” they all understood that the war was not ended.
Kutzov alone would not see this and openly expressed his opinion that no fresh war could improve the position or add to the glory of Russia, but could only spoil and lower the glorious position that Russia had gained. He tried to prove to the Emperor the impossibility of levying fresh troops, spoke of the hardships already endured by the people, of the possibility of failure and so forth.
This being the field marshal’s frame of mind he was naturally regarded as merely a hindrance and obstacle to the impending war.
To avoid unpleasant encounters with the old man, the natural method was to do what had been done with him at Austerlitz and with Barclay at the beginning of the Russian campaign—to transfer the authority to the Emperor himself, thus cutting the ground from under the commander in chief’s feet without upsetting the old man by informing him of the change.
With this object his staff was gradually reconstructed and its real strength removed and transferred to the Emperor. Toll, Konovntsyn, and Ermlov received fresh appointments. Everyone spoke loudly of the field marshal’s great weakness and failing health.
His health had to be bad for his place to be taken away and given to another. And in fact his health was poor.
So naturally, simply, and gradually—just as he had come from Turkey to the Treasury in Petersburg to recruit the militia, and then to the army when he was needed there—now when his part was played out, Kutzov’s place was taken by a new and necessary performer.
The war of 1812, besides its national significance dear to every Russian heart, was now to assume another, a European, significance.
The movement of peoples from west to east was to be succeeded by a movement of peoples from east to west, and for this fresh war another leader was necessary, having qualities and views differing from Kutzov’s and animated by different motives.
Alexander I was as necessary for the movement of the peoples from east to west and for the refixing of national frontiers as Kutzov had been for the salvation and glory of Russia.
Kutzov did not understand what Europe, the balance of power, or Napoleon meant. He could not understand it. For the representative of the Russian people, after the enemy had been destroyed and Russia had been liberated and raised to the summit of her glory, there was nothing left to do as a Russian. Nothing remained for the representative of the national war but to die, and Kutzov died.
