THE FRENCH ARMY went on melting away at a regularly increasing rate. And the crossing of the Berezina, of which so much has been written, was only one of the intermediate stages of the destruction of the army, and by no means the decisive episode of the campaign. The reason that so much has been written about Berezina on the French side is that at the broken-down bridge of Berezina the woes, which had till then come upon them in a sort of regular succession, were suddenly concentrated there in a single moment—in one tragic catastrophe, which remained printed on the memory of all. On the Russian side, the reason that so much has been made of Berezina was simply that at Petersburg, far away from the theatre of war, a plan had been devised (again by Pfuhl of all people) for catching Napoleon in a strategic snare on the banks of the Berezina. Every one was convinced that the plan would come off exactly as arranged, and so they insisted that Berezina had in any case been the scene of the final ruin of the French. In reality the results of Berezina were less ruinous to the French in loss of cannons and prisoners than was the fighting at Krasnoe, as statistics prove.
The sole significance of the disaster of Berezina lies in the fact that it proved obviously and unmistakably how misleading were all plans for cutting off the enemy's retreat; and the one possible course of action was that which was supported by Kutuzov and the mass of the Russian army—simply to follow on the enemy's track. The crowd of French soldiers fled with continually accelerating velocity, with all their energies directed to the attainment of their goal. It was fleeing like a wounded beast and could not be stopped on the way. This was proved, not so much by the construction of the crossing, as by what happened at the bridges. When the bridges were broken down, unarmed soldiers, camp-followers from Moscow, women with children, who were with the French transport, all under the influence of vis inerti?, dashed forward for the boats, or rushed into the frozen water, instead of surrendering.
Their impulse was a reasonable one. The position of fugitives and of pursuers was equally wretched. By remaining with his own men, each hoped for the help of comrades in misfortune, for a definite place of his own among them. By surrendering to the Russians, he found himself in the same wretched circumstances, but placed on a lower level than others as regards the satisfaction of his vital needs. The French had no need of authentic evidence that half of the prisoners—whom the Russians were unable to look after, however much they desired to save them— were dying of cold and hunger. They felt that it could not but be so. The most humane Russian officers, even those naturally warmly disposed to the French, Frenchmen in the Russian service, could do nothing for the prisoners. They perished from the wretched plight in which the Russians were themselves placed. Bread and clothing could not be taken from the starving, insistent soldiers to give it to Frenchmen—not hated, not obnoxious, nor in any way to blame—but simply superfluous. Some did even do this; but it was only an exception.
Behind them lay certain destruction; before them lay hope. Their ships were burnt; there was no hope of safety but in keeping together and in flight, and all the forces of the French were bent on this united flight.
The more precipitate the flight of the French, and the more wretched the plight of those left behind (especially after Berezina, on which great hopes had been set, owing to the Petersburg plan), the more violent were the attacks made by the Russian generals on one another, and still more on Kutuzov. Assuming that the failure of the Petersburg plan would be ascribed to him, the dissatisfaction with him, contempt of him, and jeering at him became more and more pronounced. This contempt and jeering was of course expressed in respectful form—in such a form that Kutuzov could not even ask what he was accused of. They did not talk to him seriously; they submitted their reports and asked for his decisions with an air of performing a melancholy ceremony, while they winked behind his back, and at every step tried to deceive him. It was accepted as a recognised thing by all those men that it was useless talking to the old man, simply because they could not understand him. They took it for granted that he could never comprehend the deep significance of their plans, that he would answer them with his phrases (they fancied they were only meaningless phrases) about a golden bridge, and about the impossibility of going beyond the frontier with a crowd of barefoot beggars. And everything he said—for instance, that they must wait for provisions, or that the men had no boots—all was so simple; while everything they proposed was so complicated and so clever, that it was obvious to them that he was stupid and in his dotage, while they were military officers of genius, without authority to take the lead. The dissatisfaction and malicious gossip of the staff reached its utmost limits after the brilliant admiral, the favourite hero of Petersburg, Wittgenstein, had joined the army. Kutuzov saw it, and simply sighed and shrugged his shoulders. Only once, after Berezina, he lost his temper and wrote to Bennigsen, who was in private correspondence with the Tsar, the following note:
“I beg your Most High Excellency on the receipt of this letter to retire to Kaluga, on account of your attacks of ill-health, and there to await the further commands of His Majesty the Emperor.”
But this dismissal of Bennigsen was followed by the arrival on the scene of the Grand Duke Konstantin Pavlovitch, who had received a command at the beginning of the campaign and had been removed from the army by Kutuzov. Now the Grand Duke on rejoining the army informed Kutuzov of the Tsar's dissatisfaction at the poor successes of our troops, and the slowness of their progress. The Tsar himself intended to be with the army in a few days.
The old man, as experienced in court methods as in warfare—who in the August of that year had been chosen commander-in-chief against the Tsar's will, who had dismissed the Grand Duke and heir-apparent from the army, and acting on his own authority, in opposition to the Tsar's will, had decreed the abandonment of Moscow—understood at once now that his day was over, that his part was played out, and that his supposed power was no more. And not only from the attitude of the court did he see this. On one side he saw the war—that war in which he had played his part—was over, and he felt that his work was done. On the other hand, at this very time, he began to be sensible of the physical weariness of his aged frame, and the necessity of physical rest.
On the 29th of November, Kutuzov reached Vilna—his dear Vilna, as he used to call it. Twice during his military career he had been governor of Vilna.
In that wealthy town, which had escaped injury, Kutuzov found old friends and old associations, as well as the comforts of which he had been so long deprived. And at once turning his back on all military and political cares, he plunged into the quiet routine of his accustomed life, so far as the passions raging all round him would permit. It was as though all that was being done, and had still to be done, in the world of history, was no concern of his now.
Tchitchagov was one of the generals most zealous in advocating attack and cutting off the enemy's retreat; he had at first suggested making a diversion in Greece and then in Warsaw, but was never willing to go where he was commanded to go. Tchitchagov, who was notorious for the boldness of his remarks to the Tsar, considered Kutuzov was under an obligation to him, because when he had been sent in 1811 to conclude peace with Turkey over Kutuzov's head, and found on arriving that peace had already been concluded, he had frankly admitted to the Tsar that the credit of having concluded peace belonged to Kutuzov.
This Tchitchagov was the first to meet Kutuzov at Vilna, at the castles where the latter was to stay. Wearing a naval uniform with a dirk, and holding his forage cap under his arm, he handed the commander-in-chief the military report and the keys of the town. The contemptuously respectful attitude of youth to old age in its dotage was expressed in the most marked manner in all the behaviour of Tchitchagov, who was aware of the disfavour into which Kutuzov had fallen.
In conversation with Tchitchagov, Kutuzov happened to say that his carriages, packed with china, that had been carried off by the enemy at Borisovo, had been recovered unhurt, and would be restored to him.
“You mean to say I have nothing to eat out of? On the contrary, I can provide everything for you, even if you want to give dinner-parties,” Tchitchagov protested, getting hot. Every word he had uttered had been with the motive of proving his own rectitude, and so he imagined that Kutuzov too was preoccupied with the same desire. Shrugging his shoulders and smiling his subtle, penetrating smile, Kutuzov answered:
“I mean to say to you what I do say to you. Nothing more.”
In opposition to the Tsar's wishes, Kutuzov kept the greater part of the troops in Vilna. He was said by all the persons about him to be getting much weaker, and breaking down physically during his stay in Vilna. He took no interest in the business of the army, left everything to his generals, and spent the time of waiting for the Tsar in social dissipation.
The Tsar, with his suite—Count Tolstoy, Prince Volkonsky, Araktcheev, and the rest—left Petersburg on the 7th of December, and reached Vilna on the 11th, and drove straight up to the castle in his travelling sledge. In spite of the intense cold there were some hundred generals and staff-officers in full parade uniform, and a guard of honour of the Semyonovsky regiment standing before the castle.
A courier, galloping up to the castle with steaming horses in advance of the Tsar, shouted: “He is coming!”
Konovnitsyn rushed into the vestibule to inform Kutuzov, who was waiting in the porter's little room within.
A minute later the big, heavy figure of the old man in full parade uniform, his breast covered with orders, and a scarf drawn tight about his bulky person, walked with a rolling gait on to the steps. He put his cocked hat on, with the flat side foremost, took his gloves in his hand, and going sideways with difficulty down the steps, took in his hand the report, that had been prepared to give the Tsar.
Bustle and hurry and whispering, another set of three horses dashing furiously up, and all eyes were turned on the approaching sledge, in which the figures of the Tsar and Volkonsky could already be distinguished.
From the habit of fifty years, all this had a physically agitating effect on the old man. He felt himself over with nervous haste, set his hat straight, and pulling himself together and standing erect at the very moment when the Tsar stepping out of the sledge, turned his eyes upon him, he handed him the report, and began speaking in his measured, ingratiating voice.
The Tsar scanned Kutuzov from head to foot in a rapid glance, frowned for an instant; but at once overcoming his feelings, went up to him, and opening his arms, embraced the old general. Again, through old habitual association of ideas, arousing some deep feeling in his own heart, this embrace had its usual effect on Kutuzov: he gave a sob.
The Tsar greeted the officers and the Semyonovsky guard of honour; and once more shaking hands with the old man, he went with him into the castle.
When he was alone with the commander-in-chief, the Tsar gave expression to his displeasure at the slowness of the pursuit of the enemy, and the blunders made at Krasnoe and the Berezina, and to his views as to the coming campaign abroad. Kutuzov made no observation or explanation. The same expression of unreasoning submission with which seven years before he had listened to the Tsar's commands on the field of Austerlitz remained fixed now on his face.
When Kutuzov had left the room, and with downcast head walked across the reception-hall with his heavy, waddling step, a voice stopped him.
“Your highness,” said some one.
He raised his head, and looked into the face of Count Tolstoy, who stood facing him with a small object on a silver dish. Kutuzov seemed for some time unable to grasp what was wanted of him.
All at once he seemed to recollect himself; a faint smile gleamed on his pudgy face, and with a low, respectful bow, he picked up the object on the dish. It was the Order of St. George of the first rank.
实际数字证明：事实上，强渡别列济纳河法国人在武器和人员方面的损失比在克拉斯诺耶战役所遭受的损失要小得多。
强渡别列济纳河战役唯一的意义是，这次行动确切无疑地证明，所有切断敌人的计划都是错误的，而库图佐夫主张的唯一可行的行动方式——只在敌人后面跟踪追击，是完全正确的。法国的乌合之众在逃跑过程中不断加快逃跑速度，为了能逃到目的地而竭尽了全部力量。法国人像一头受伤的野兽那样没命狂奔，要挡住他们的逃路是不可能的。与其说是强渡，还不如说是桥上发生的情形证明了这一点。当桥倒塌时，徒手的士兵们和在法军输重队中的莫斯科的居民和一些带着小孩的妇女们，都因受惯性的影响，停止不下来，涌到船上和冰凉的河水中。
这种愿望是合乎情理的。逃跑的人和追赶的人的境遇都同样糟糕。每一个遭难的人，要是落在自己人中间，还可以指望伙伴们的帮助，在自己人当中还可以占有一定的地位。要是投降了俄国人，他虽然还是处在同样的遭难的境地，但是在分配生活必需品时，他必然会低人一等。法国人不需要知道，他们有一半的人已当了俘虏的确切消息。尽管俄国人相信他们不至于被冻死、饿死，对这么多俘虏，他们也不知道该怎么办。法国人已感觉到这种状况只能是这种样子。最富有同情心的俄国军官和对法国人有好感的人，甚至在俄国军队中服务的法国人，对俘虏也都是爱莫能助。俄国军队也正在经受着那种毁灭了法国人的灾难。不能从饥饿的士兵手中拿走他们自己也正需要的面包和衣服，去给那些已经无害、也不可恨、也没有罪、然而却已是无用了的法国人。有一些俄国人是这样做了，但是这仅仅是一些极个别的，例外的情况。
慢了则必死无疑；希望在前面。只有破釜沉舟，除了集体逃跑，没有别的道路可以选择，于是法国人就竭尽其全力集体逃跑。
法国人越是逃跑下去，其残余部队的处境越悲惨，尤其是在根据彼得堡的计划所寄予厚望的别列济纳战役之后，更加如此；俄国军官们互相责怪，特别是责怪库图佐夫的情绪也更加激烈。他们认为，彼得堡的别列济纳计划如果失败，必然归咎于库图佐夫，因而对他的不满、轻视和讥笑将愈来愈激烈。自然，轻视和讥笑是以恭敬的形式表现出来的，这就使库图佐夫无法质问他们责怪他什么和为什么责怪他。他们在向他报告和请他批准什么的时候，谈话极不认真，做出履行一种痛苦的手续的样子，而在背后却挤眉弄眼，他们时时处处都尽量欺骗他。
正因为他们不能理解他，所以这些人就认为跟这个老头子没有什么可谈的；他永远不会理解他们计划的深刻含意；他要对自己的关于金桥啦和不能率领一群乌合之众打到国境界以外去啦等类似的空话（他们认为这些仅仅是空话）给予回答。但是，所有这一切，他们早都从他那里听到过了。他所说的一切：例如，需要等待给养，士兵们没有靴子，都是如此简单，而他们的建议才是复杂而明智的，在他们看来是显而易见的；他已经又老又糊涂，而他们却是没有当权的天才统帅。
特别是在卓越的海军上将的军队和彼得堡维特根施泰因的英雄军队会师之后，这种情绪和参谋部的流言蜚语都达到了顶点。库图佐夫看出了这一点，他只好叹口气，耸耸肩膀。只有一次，就是在别列济纳战役之后，他生了气，他给独自向皇帝密奏的贝尼格森写了如下的一封信：
“因你的旧病复发，见此信后，请阁下即刻前往卡卢加，听候皇帝陛下的旨意和任命。”
在打发走贝尼格森之后，接着康士坦丁·帕夫洛维奇大公（十月革命前沙皇之弟、兄·孙之封号——译者注）来到了军队，他在战争初期参过战，后来库图佐夫把他调离军队。现在大公来到军中，他告诉库图佐夫，皇上对我军战绩不大，行动缓慢不满意，皇上打算最近亲自到军队中来。
库图佐夫是一位在宫廷里和在军队里都有丰富经验的老者。就是这个库图佐夫，在本年八月违背皇上的意愿而被选为总司令，也就是他把皇储和大公调离军队，也还是他，凭着自己的权力，违背皇上的旨意，放弃了莫斯科，如今的这个库图佐夫立刻明白，他的那个时代已经完结了，他手中的这种虚假权力已不复存在。他明白了这一点，还不仅是依据宫廷中的态度。一方面，他看得出，他在其中扮演着角色的军事活动已经结束，因而他感到他的使命已经完成。另一方面，正在此刻他感到他那衰老的身体已十分疲惫，需要休息。
十一月二十九日，库图佐夫进驻维尔纳——他听说的“亲爱的维尔纳”。库图佐夫曾两次担任过维尔纳总督。在华丽的、战争中保持完好的维尔纳城，库图佐夫除了找到他久已失去的舒适的生活条件之外，还找到了一些老朋友和对往事的回忆。于是，他突然抛开他对军队和国家的一切忧虑，尽可能沉浸在平稳时，原先习惯的，在他周围尽量保持宁静的生活，好像在历史进程中已经发生的和正在发生的事情都与他毫无关系。
奇恰戈夫——一个最热衷于切断和击溃战术的人——，奇恰戈夫，他最先要到希腊、然后要到华沙进行佯攻，然而无论如何都不去派他去的地方，奇恰戈夫，他以敢于向皇上进言而闻名的人，奇恰戈夫，他自以为库图佐夫受过他的好处，这是因为在一八一一年他被派去与土耳其媾和，他背着库图佐夫，当他确信，和约已经缔结，于是在皇上面前承认，缔结和约的功劳属于库图佐夫；就是这一位奇恰戈夫第一个在维尔纳库图佐夫将进驻的城堡门前迎接他。奇恰戈夫身着海军文官制服，腰佩短剑，腋下夹着帽子，递给库图佐夫一份战例报告和城门的钥匙。奇恰戈夫已经得悉库图佐夫受到了谴责，在一切言谈举止上充分表现出一个年轻人对一个昏庸老者那种貌似恭敬的轻蔑态度。
在同奇恰戈夫的谈话中，库图佐夫顺便告诉他，他在博里索夫被抢走的那几车器皿，已经夺回来了，就要还给他。
“C'estpourmedirequejen'aipassurquoimanger…
Jepuisaucontrairevousfournirdetoutdanslecasmêmeoǔ，vousvoudrezdonnerdesdiners．”①奇恰戈夫面红耳赤地说，他想证明他所说的每一句话都是正确的，因而，他认为库图佐夫对他所说的话很关注。库图佐夫脸上露出了微妙的、能洞察一切的微笑，他耸耸肩膀回答说：“Cen'estquepourvousdirecequejevousdis．”②
①法语：您的意思是说，我连吃饭用的器皿也没有了。恰恰相反，就是您要马上举行宴会，我也完全能够提供出全部餐具。
②法语：我只是要说我刚才说过的话。
皇帝率领着侍从——托尔斯泰伯爵，沃尔孔斯基公爵、阿拉克契耶夫等等，在十二月七日离开彼得堡，十一日抵达维尔纳，乘坐他的旅行雪橇直接驰往城堡。虽然天气严寒，百多位将军和参谋人员穿着全副检阅服装，还有谢苗诺夫团的仪仗队都在城堡门前等候。
一位信使坐着一辆三匹浑身汗湿了的马拉着的雪橇，在皇帝尚未到达之前急速来到城堡，他高声喊道：“圣驾到！”于是科诺夫尼岑跑进门厅，向在门房小屋内的库图佐夫通报。
一分钟后，老人肥胖、庞大的身驱摇晃着走出门廊，他身穿大礼服，胸前挂满胸章，腰间缠着一条绶带。库图佐夫头戴两侧有遮檐的帽子①，手里拿着手套，斜侧着身子吃力地走下台阶，来到街面上，他手上拿着准备呈送给皇帝的报告。
①这种帽子原名“三角帽”，亚历山大时代改为两个遮檐。戴时遮檐可前后，可两侧。
由于积五十年之经验，眼下所有这一切使这位老将军惊惶不安；他谨慎小心地拍打了一下衣服，整了一下帽子；就在皇帝下了雪橇，抬起眼睛看他的这一刹那间，他强打起精神，挺直身子，把报告呈了上去，开始用他那缓慢的、均匀的、令人喜欢的声音说起话来。
皇帝用迅速的目光把库图佐夫从头到脚仔细地打量了一番，微微皱了一下眉头，但是，他立刻控制住自己，向前紧走了几步，伸开双臂，抱住了老将军。仍然是由于长时间内所养成的习惯的影响，或者是由于他内心思想的关系，这种拥抱果真对库图佐夫又起了作用，他感激涕零。
皇帝向军官们和谢苗诺夫团的仪仗队问好，然后再一次握住老将军的手，和他一道走进城堡。
当皇帝同老元帅单独在一起的时候，皇帝对追击的迟缓，对在克拉斯诺耶和别列济纳所犯的错误表示不满。皇帝把自己要把战争打到国境界以外的意图告诉了库图佐夫，他既不作辩解，也不发表意见。他现在脸上的表情，也就是七年前在奥斯特利茨战场上聆听皇帝命令时的那种顺从的、毫无意义的表情。
当库图佐夫从书房走出来时，他低着头，迈着沉重的步子，步履蹒跚，他经过大厅旁边时，有一个声音叫住了他。
“阁下。”有一个人喊他。
库图佐夫抬起头，对着托尔斯泰伯爵的眼睛看了好一阵子，伯爵手托银盘站在他的面前，库图佐夫好像不明白要他做什么。
突然间，他似乎想起来了；有一丝几乎看不出的笑容从他的胖脸上一闪而过，他恭敬地俯下身子拿起了那件东西。那是一级圣乔治勋章。