There had been on that same day a council of war, at which all the members of the Hofkriegsrath and the two Emperors had been present. At the council it had been decided, contrary to the advice of the elder- generals, Kutuzov and Prince Schwarzenberg, to advance at once and to fight a general engagement with Bonaparte. The council of war was only just over when Prince Andrey, accompanied by Boris, went into the palace in search of Prince Dolgorukov. Every one at headquarters was still under the spell of the victory gained that day by the younger party at the council of war. The voices of those who urged delay, and counselled waiting for something and not advancing, had been so unanimously drowned and their arguments had been confuted by such indubitable proofs of the advantages of advancing, that what had been discussed at the council, the future battle and the victory certain to follow it, seemed no longer future but past. All the advantages were on'our side. Our immense forces, undoubtedly superior to those of Napoleon, were concentrated in one place; the troops were encouraged by the presence of the
230 WAR AND PEACE
two Emperors, and were eager for battle. The strategic position on which the}’ were to act was to the minutest detail known to the Austrian general Weierother, who was at the head of the troops (as a lucky chance would have it, the Austrian troops had chosen for their manoeuvres the very fields in which they had now to fight the French). Every detail of the surrounding neighbourhood was known and put down on maps, while Bonaparte, apparently growing feebler, was taking no measures.
Dolgorukov, who had been one of the warmest advocates of attack, had just come back from the council, weary, exhausted, but eager and proud of the victory he had gained. Prince Andrey presented the officer for whom he was asking his influence, but Prince Dolgorukov, though he shook hands politely and warmly, said nothing to Boris. Obviously unable to restrain himseff from uttering the thoughts which were engrossing him at that moment, he addressed Prince Andrey in French.
‘Well, my dear fellow, what a battle we have won! God only grant that the one which will be the result of it may be as victorious. I must own, though, my dear fellow,’ he said, jerkily and eagerly, ‘my shortcomings compared with the Austrians and especially Weierother. What accuracy, what minuteness, what knowledge of the locality, what foresight of every possibility, every condition, of every minutest detail! No, my dear boy, anything more propitious than the circumstance we are placed in could j not have been found, if one had arranged it purposely. The union of j Austrian exactitude with Russian valour—what could you wish for more?'
‘So an attack has been finally decided upon?’ said Bolkonsky.
‘And do you know, I fancy, Bonaparte really has lost his head. You know that a letter came from him to-day to the Emperor.’ Dolgorukov smiled significantly.
‘You don’t say so! What does he write?’ asked Bolkonsky.
‘What can he write? Tradi-ri-di-ra—all simply to gain time. I tell you he’s in our hands; that’s the fact! But the most amusing part of it all,’ he said, breaking all at once into a good-natured laugh, ‘is that they couldn’t think how to address an answer to him. If not “consul,” and of ! course not “emperor,” it should be “general” Bonaparte, it seemed to me.’
‘But between not recognising him as emperor and calling him General Bonaparte, there’s a difference,’ said Bolkonsky.
‘That’s just the point,’ Dolgorukov interrupted quickly, laughing. ‘You know Bilibin, he’s a very clever fellow; he suggested addressing it, j “To the Usurper and Enemy of the Human Race,” ’ Dolgorukov chuckled merrily.
‘And nothing more?’ observed Bolkonsky.
‘But still it was Bilibin who found the suitable form of address in earnest. He’s both shrewd and witty . . .’
‘How t was it?’
‘To the Chief of the French Government: au chef du gouvernement jrancais,’ Dolgorukov said seriously and with satisfaction. 'That was the right thing, wasn’t it?’
‘It was all right, but he will dislike it extremely,’ observed Bolkonsky.
‘Oh, extremely! My brother knows him; he’s dined more than once with him—nowadays the emperor—in Paris, and used to tell me that he’d never seen a subtler and more crafty diplomat; you know, a combination of French adroitness and the Italian actor-faculty! You know the anecdote about Bonaparte and Count Markov? Count Markov was the only person who knew how to treat him. You know the story of the handkerchief? It's a gem!’ And the talkative Dolgorukov turning from Boris to Prince Audrey told the story of how Bonaparte, to test Markov, our ambassador, had purposely dropped his handkerchief before him, and had stood looking at him, probably expecting Markov to pick it up for him, and how Markov promptly dropped his own beside it, and had picked up his own without touching Bonaparte’s.
