On the first arrival of the news of the battle of Austerlitz, Moscow had been bewildered. At that time, the Russians were so used to victories that on receiving news of the defeat some would simply not believe it, while others sought some extraordinary explanation of so strange an event. In the English Club, where all who were distinguished, important, and well informed foregathered when the news began to arrive in December, nothing was said about the war and the last battle, as though all were in a conspiracy of silence. The men who set the tone in conversation⁠—Count Rostopchín, Prince Yúri Vladímirovich Dolgorúkov, Valúev, Count Markóv, and Prince Vyázemski⁠—did not show themselves at the club, but met in private houses in intimate circles, and the Moscovites who took their opinions from others⁠—Count Ilyá Andréevich Rostóv among them⁠—remained for a while without any definite opinion on the subject of the war and without leaders. The Moscovites felt that something was wrong and that to discuss the bad news was difficult, and so it was best to be silent. But after a while, just as a jury comes out of its room, the bigwigs who guided the club’s opinion reappeared, and everybody began speaking clearly and definitely.