Chapter Summaries: Dole: The right wing. Bagration sends Nikolai to Kutuzof. His exciting ride. The charge of the Leib-Uhlans. Narrow escape. Boris. Berg wounded. Evil presentiments.
Briggs: Nikolay meets the wounded Boris. He cannot believe how bad things are.
Translation:
XVII. On the right flank of Bagration at 9 the business had still not begun. Not wishing to agree with the demand of Dolgorukov to begin the business and wishing to eject from himself liability, Prince Bagration proposed to Dolgorukov to send to ask about this to the commander in chief. Bagration knew that a distance of almost 10 versts separated one flank from another, should it not kill whom was sent (that was very probable), and should he even find the commander in chief, and that was quite difficult, he would not be sent in time to return before the evening. Bagration looked around his suite with his own large, expressionless, sleepy eyes, and the unwittingly fading away from excitement and hopes childish face of Rostov was first thrown at his eyes. He sent him. — But should I meet his majesty before the commander in chief, your excellency? — said Rostov, holding his hand to his visor. — You may deliver it to his majesty, — hastily interrupting Bagration, said Dolgorukov. Changing from the rows, Rostov had time to nap a few hours before morning and felt himself fun, bold, decisive, with those resilience movements, certain in his happiness and in this location of spirit, in which all seems easy, funny and possible. All his willingness was executed by this morning; general battle was given, he participated in it; little understanding that he was orderly to the bravest general; little understanding that he rode with instruction to Kutuzov, but maybe, to the most sovereign. The morning was clear and the horse under him was good. In his soul was joy and happiness. Receiving the order, he let his horse gallop along the lines. First he rode by the lines of Bagration’s troops, still not marching into the business and standing still; then he entered into the space occupied by the cavalry of Uvarov and here saw now the movement and signs of preparations of business; the cavalry of Uvarov driving, he now clearly heard the sounds of cannon and gun shooting ahead of himself. The shooting all intensified. In the fresh, morning air were heard now, not as before in the unequal gaps, two, three shots and then one or two gunshots, but by the slopes of the mountains, ahead of Pratzen, was heard the cracks of gun firing, interrupted so by the frequent shots of cannons that sometimes a few cannon shots were now not separated from each other, but merged into one common rumble. It was seen how the haze of the guns as if ran by the slopes, catching up with each other, and as the smoke of the cannons swirled, blurred and merged into one with another. Visible were the shine of bayonets between smoke, moving masses of infantry and the narrow stripes of artillery with green boxes. Rostov on the hillock stopped for a moment on his horse, so that to consider what he did; but as he strained his attention, he could not understand anything, or make out from this what he did: moved there in the smoke some people, moving in the front and back some canvases of troops; but what for? Who? Where? It could not be understood. These views and sounds did not excite in him something dull or give him a timid feeling, but, the opposite, gave him energy and determination. "Well, more, give more!" — he approached mentally to these sounds and again started to gallop by the lines, all farther and farther penetrating into the region of troops now marching into the business. "Really how this will be here, I do not know, but all will be okay!" thought Rostov. Driving by some Austrian troops, Rostov saw that next behind that part of the lines (this was the guard) now marched into the business. "By that is better! I'll see nearer," he thought. He rode almost to the front of the lines. A few riders galloped in his direction. These were our court lancers, who in disturbed rows returned from attacks. Rostov passed them, unwittingly seeing one of them in blood and galloped farther. "Before me are not the affairs!" he thought. He did not have time to drive several hundred steps after this, as to the left of him, across from him, appeared to all throughout the field a huge mass of cavalrymen on black horses, in white brilliant uniforms, which trotting went all to him. Rostov let his horse in all lope, so to leave from the roads from these cavalrymen, and he would have left from them, would they have all went by that same gait, but they all added to the passage, so that some horses now galloped. To Rostov all more audibly and more audibly became their clattering and rattling of their weapons and more visible became their horses, figures and even their faces. These were our cavalry guards, marching to attack on the French cavalry, moving forward towards them. The cavalry guards galloped, but were still holding their horses. Rostov now saw their faces and heard the command: "march, march!" spoken by the officer, issuing in all steps of the blood of his horse. Rostov, fearing to be crushed or enticed in the attack of the French, galloped along the front with what was in his horse, and all the same did not have time to pass by them. The extreme of the cavalry guard, a huge by height pockmarked man, viciously frowned, seeing before himself Rostov, with whom he should inevitably face. This cavalry guard indispensably would have knocked Rostov down from his feet with him Bedouin (Rostov himself seemed so little and weak in comparison with these huge people and horses), would he not have guessed to wave his whip at the eye of the cavalry guard horse. The black, tough, five-pointed horse dodged, and attached its ears; but the pockmarked cavalry guard planted it with a swing in the sides with his huge spurs, and the horse, waving its tail and stretching out its neck, raced still faster. Barely had the cavalry guards passed Rostov as he heard them shout: "hoorah!" and looking back, saw that their front ranks were mixed up with strangers, probably the French, cavalrymen in red epaulettes. Farther than this nothing could be seen because of how immediately again after this somewhere the guns began to fire, and all froze in the smoke. At that moment as the cavalry guards passed him, hiding in the smoke, Rostov hesitated whether to gallop behind them or go there, where he was needed. This was that brilliant attack of the cavalry guards that were surprised by the French themselves. Rostov was to fearfully hear then that throughout these huge masses of handsome people, of all these brilliant, on thousands of horses, rich, youth, officers and cadets galloping past him, after attacks were left only eighteen people. "What an envy to me, I will not leave, and I now, maybe, will see the sovereign!" thought Rostov and galloped farther. Getting up from the guards to the infantry, he saw that through it and about it flew cannonballs, not so many because he heard the sound of cannonballs, but because that in the face of the soldiers he saw anxiety and on the faces of the officers — unnatural, warlike solemnity. Driving behind one of the lines of the infantry guard regiments, he heard a voice calling him by name. — Rostov! — What? — he responded, not recognizing Boris. — What is on the first line hit! Our regiment went on attack! — said Boris, smiling that happy smile, which is in young people for the first time visiting into fire. Rostov had stopped. — How is it here! — he said. — Well what? — Beat off! — lively said Boris, becoming chatty. — Can you represent yourself? And Boris began telling how the guard came into place and seeing before themselves the troops, accepting the Austrians behind them and suddenly by cannonballs, fired from these troops, recognized that it was at the first of the lines, and suddenly should march into business. Rostov, not listening to Boris, touched his horse. — To where are you going? — asked Boris. — To his majesty with an instruction. — Here he is! — said Boris, who heard that Rostov needed "his highness," instead of "his majesty." And he pointed out to him the great prince, which was a hundred steps from them, in a hard hat and with a cavalry guard sword, with his own raised shoulders and frowning eyebrows, shouting something at a white and pale Austrian officer. — Yes but this is the great prince, but I am going to the commander in chief or the sovereign, — said Rostov and touched his horse. — Count, count! — shouted Berg, such the same lively, as Boris, running up with different parties, — Count, I am injured in the right hand (he spoke, showing the wrist of his hand, bloody, tied up by a nasal handkerchief) and stayed in the front. Count, I hold my sword in the left hand: In our breed and background the Bergs, count, all have been knights. Berg said something more, but Rostov, not listening to him, now went farther. Driving by the guard and the empty gap, Rostov, so that to not again get to the first line, as he hit upon under the attack of cavalry guards, went by the lines of the reserves, going far away around that place, where was heard the hot shooting and cannonade. Suddenly ahead of himself and behind our troops, in such a location, where he in no way could assume as enemy, he heard the close gun shooting. "What may this be? — thought Rostov. — Is the enemy in the rear of our troops? It may not be, — thought Rostov, and with horror and fear for himself and for the outcome of the battle alone was suddenly found in him. — What would this be, however, — he thought, — now already there is nothing to travel for. I should search for the commander in chief here, and should all die, that is my business to die with all together." The evil premonition, found suddenly in Rostov, was confirmed all more and more, the farther he entered into the busy droves of busy troops in the space located behind the village of Pratzen. — What? What? Who shoots? Who shoots? — asked Rostov, leveling with Russian and Austrian soldiers, running and mixing in droves across the roads. — But damn who knows? Beat them all! Disappear them all! — answered him in Russian, in German and in Czech, the crowd running and misunderstanding exactly so the same as he did here. — Beat Germans! — shouted one. — But damn them, tear them to pieces! — traitors. — Damn these Russians!..387— someone grumbled in German. A few wounded went by the roads. Swear words, shouting, and moans blended into one common rumble. The shooting fell silent and, as Rostov then found out, the Russian and Austrian soldiers fired at each other. "My God! What such are these? — thought Rostov. — And here, where all in a moment the sovereign may see them... but no, this is, rightly, only a few bastards. This will pass, this is not that what may be, — he thought. — Only soon, soon will we drive through them!" The idea about defeat and flight could not come in the head of Rostov. Although he saw the French guns and troops were on the Pratzen mountain, on that where he was ordered to look for the commander in chief, he could not and did not want to believe this. 387 Zum Henker diese Russen!..
Time: nine o'clock
Locations: Bagration's right flank, hills in front of Pratzen, behind the village of Pratzen, Pratzen heights
Mentioned: Austrian, French, German, Russian (or Russen in French)
Pevear and Volkhonsky Notes:
Briggs: Nikolay meets the wounded Boris. He cannot believe how bad things are.
Translation:
XVII. On the right flank of Bagration at 9 the business had still not begun. Not wishing to agree with the demand of Dolgorukov to begin the business and wishing to eject from himself liability, Prince Bagration proposed to Dolgorukov to send to ask about this to the commander in chief. Bagration knew that a distance of almost 10 versts separated one flank from another, should it not kill whom was sent (that was very probable), and should he even find the commander in chief, and that was quite difficult, he would not be sent in time to return before the evening. Bagration looked around his suite with his own large, expressionless, sleepy eyes, and the unwittingly fading away from excitement and hopes childish face of Rostov was first thrown at his eyes. He sent him. — But should I meet his majesty before the commander in chief, your excellency? — said Rostov, holding his hand to his visor. — You may deliver it to his majesty, — hastily interrupting Bagration, said Dolgorukov. Changing from the rows, Rostov had time to nap a few hours before morning and felt himself fun, bold, decisive, with those resilience movements, certain in his happiness and in this location of spirit, in which all seems easy, funny and possible. All his willingness was executed by this morning; general battle was given, he participated in it; little understanding that he was orderly to the bravest general; little understanding that he rode with instruction to Kutuzov, but maybe, to the most sovereign. The morning was clear and the horse under him was good. In his soul was joy and happiness. Receiving the order, he let his horse gallop along the lines. First he rode by the lines of Bagration’s troops, still not marching into the business and standing still; then he entered into the space occupied by the cavalry of Uvarov and here saw now the movement and signs of preparations of business; the cavalry of Uvarov driving, he now clearly heard the sounds of cannon and gun shooting ahead of himself. The shooting all intensified. In the fresh, morning air were heard now, not as before in the unequal gaps, two, three shots and then one or two gunshots, but by the slopes of the mountains, ahead of Pratzen, was heard the cracks of gun firing, interrupted so by the frequent shots of cannons that sometimes a few cannon shots were now not separated from each other, but merged into one common rumble. It was seen how the haze of the guns as if ran by the slopes, catching up with each other, and as the smoke of the cannons swirled, blurred and merged into one with another. Visible were the shine of bayonets between smoke, moving masses of infantry and the narrow stripes of artillery with green boxes. Rostov on the hillock stopped for a moment on his horse, so that to consider what he did; but as he strained his attention, he could not understand anything, or make out from this what he did: moved there in the smoke some people, moving in the front and back some canvases of troops; but what for? Who? Where? It could not be understood. These views and sounds did not excite in him something dull or give him a timid feeling, but, the opposite, gave him energy and determination. "Well, more, give more!" — he approached mentally to these sounds and again started to gallop by the lines, all farther and farther penetrating into the region of troops now marching into the business. "Really how this will be here, I do not know, but all will be okay!" thought Rostov. Driving by some Austrian troops, Rostov saw that next behind that part of the lines (this was the guard) now marched into the business. "By that is better! I'll see nearer," he thought. He rode almost to the front of the lines. A few riders galloped in his direction. These were our court lancers, who in disturbed rows returned from attacks. Rostov passed them, unwittingly seeing one of them in blood and galloped farther. "Before me are not the affairs!" he thought. He did not have time to drive several hundred steps after this, as to the left of him, across from him, appeared to all throughout the field a huge mass of cavalrymen on black horses, in white brilliant uniforms, which trotting went all to him. Rostov let his horse in all lope, so to leave from the roads from these cavalrymen, and he would have left from them, would they have all went by that same gait, but they all added to the passage, so that some horses now galloped. To Rostov all more audibly and more audibly became their clattering and rattling of their weapons and more visible became their horses, figures and even their faces. These were our cavalry guards, marching to attack on the French cavalry, moving forward towards them. The cavalry guards galloped, but were still holding their horses. Rostov now saw their faces and heard the command: "march, march!" spoken by the officer, issuing in all steps of the blood of his horse. Rostov, fearing to be crushed or enticed in the attack of the French, galloped along the front with what was in his horse, and all the same did not have time to pass by them. The extreme of the cavalry guard, a huge by height pockmarked man, viciously frowned, seeing before himself Rostov, with whom he should inevitably face. This cavalry guard indispensably would have knocked Rostov down from his feet with him Bedouin (Rostov himself seemed so little and weak in comparison with these huge people and horses), would he not have guessed to wave his whip at the eye of the cavalry guard horse. The black, tough, five-pointed horse dodged, and attached its ears; but the pockmarked cavalry guard planted it with a swing in the sides with his huge spurs, and the horse, waving its tail and stretching out its neck, raced still faster. Barely had the cavalry guards passed Rostov as he heard them shout: "hoorah!" and looking back, saw that their front ranks were mixed up with strangers, probably the French, cavalrymen in red epaulettes. Farther than this nothing could be seen because of how immediately again after this somewhere the guns began to fire, and all froze in the smoke. At that moment as the cavalry guards passed him, hiding in the smoke, Rostov hesitated whether to gallop behind them or go there, where he was needed. This was that brilliant attack of the cavalry guards that were surprised by the French themselves. Rostov was to fearfully hear then that throughout these huge masses of handsome people, of all these brilliant, on thousands of horses, rich, youth, officers and cadets galloping past him, after attacks were left only eighteen people. "What an envy to me, I will not leave, and I now, maybe, will see the sovereign!" thought Rostov and galloped farther. Getting up from the guards to the infantry, he saw that through it and about it flew cannonballs, not so many because he heard the sound of cannonballs, but because that in the face of the soldiers he saw anxiety and on the faces of the officers — unnatural, warlike solemnity. Driving behind one of the lines of the infantry guard regiments, he heard a voice calling him by name. — Rostov! — What? — he responded, not recognizing Boris. — What is on the first line hit! Our regiment went on attack! — said Boris, smiling that happy smile, which is in young people for the first time visiting into fire. Rostov had stopped. — How is it here! — he said. — Well what? — Beat off! — lively said Boris, becoming chatty. — Can you represent yourself? And Boris began telling how the guard came into place and seeing before themselves the troops, accepting the Austrians behind them and suddenly by cannonballs, fired from these troops, recognized that it was at the first of the lines, and suddenly should march into business. Rostov, not listening to Boris, touched his horse. — To where are you going? — asked Boris. — To his majesty with an instruction. — Here he is! — said Boris, who heard that Rostov needed "his highness," instead of "his majesty." And he pointed out to him the great prince, which was a hundred steps from them, in a hard hat and with a cavalry guard sword, with his own raised shoulders and frowning eyebrows, shouting something at a white and pale Austrian officer. — Yes but this is the great prince, but I am going to the commander in chief or the sovereign, — said Rostov and touched his horse. — Count, count! — shouted Berg, such the same lively, as Boris, running up with different parties, — Count, I am injured in the right hand (he spoke, showing the wrist of his hand, bloody, tied up by a nasal handkerchief) and stayed in the front. Count, I hold my sword in the left hand: In our breed and background the Bergs, count, all have been knights. Berg said something more, but Rostov, not listening to him, now went farther. Driving by the guard and the empty gap, Rostov, so that to not again get to the first line, as he hit upon under the attack of cavalry guards, went by the lines of the reserves, going far away around that place, where was heard the hot shooting and cannonade. Suddenly ahead of himself and behind our troops, in such a location, where he in no way could assume as enemy, he heard the close gun shooting. "What may this be? — thought Rostov. — Is the enemy in the rear of our troops? It may not be, — thought Rostov, and with horror and fear for himself and for the outcome of the battle alone was suddenly found in him. — What would this be, however, — he thought, — now already there is nothing to travel for. I should search for the commander in chief here, and should all die, that is my business to die with all together." The evil premonition, found suddenly in Rostov, was confirmed all more and more, the farther he entered into the busy droves of busy troops in the space located behind the village of Pratzen. — What? What? Who shoots? Who shoots? — asked Rostov, leveling with Russian and Austrian soldiers, running and mixing in droves across the roads. — But damn who knows? Beat them all! Disappear them all! — answered him in Russian, in German and in Czech, the crowd running and misunderstanding exactly so the same as he did here. — Beat Germans! — shouted one. — But damn them, tear them to pieces! — traitors. — Damn these Russians!..387— someone grumbled in German. A few wounded went by the roads. Swear words, shouting, and moans blended into one common rumble. The shooting fell silent and, as Rostov then found out, the Russian and Austrian soldiers fired at each other. "My God! What such are these? — thought Rostov. — And here, where all in a moment the sovereign may see them... but no, this is, rightly, only a few bastards. This will pass, this is not that what may be, — he thought. — Only soon, soon will we drive through them!" The idea about defeat and flight could not come in the head of Rostov. Although he saw the French guns and troops were on the Pratzen mountain, on that where he was ordered to look for the commander in chief, he could not and did not want to believe this. 387 Zum Henker diese Russen!..
Time: nine o'clock
Locations: Bagration's right flank, hills in front of Pratzen, behind the village of Pratzen, Pratzen heights
Mentioned: Austrian, French, German, Russian (or Russen in French)
Pevear and Volkhonsky Notes:
Bagration is using a stall tactic, Tolstoy underscoring the difficulty of getting orders communicated. Bagration, like Kutuzov, also sleepy, or at least has sleepy eyes. Rostov sent on the pointless mission that could get him killed.
Everything about Rostov is positive, he has gotten sleep. When Rostov sees the confusion, his reaction is different than Andrei (although his actions in wanting this mission are a lot like his): “The sights and sounds not only
did not arouse any sort of dejected or timid feelings in him, but on the contrary, gave him energy and determination.”
Everything about Rostov is positive, he has gotten sleep. When Rostov sees the confusion, his reaction is different than Andrei (although his actions in wanting this mission are a lot like his): “The sights and sounds not only
did not arouse any sort of dejected or timid feelings in him, but on the contrary, gave him energy and determination.”
Tolstoy plays with time here, “Rostov was horrified to hear later that” to accentuate the horror and connect Rostov to these masses.
“Boris, smiling that happy smile which occurs in young men who have been under fire for the first time.”
Berg emphasizes his bravery and his family history, that they were all knights.
The divide between the Russians and Austrian/Germans comes to its climax, with them shooting each other (“as Rostov learned later”).
Rostov is being hit with some rather heavy cognitive dissonance.
Characters (characters who do not appear, but are mentioned are placed in italics. First appearances are in Bold. First mentions are underlined. Final appearance denoted by *):
Prince Bagration
Dolgorukhof
Kutuzof (“commander-in-chief”)
Rostof
Emperor Alexander (“his majesty” and “emperor”)
Uvarof (only in relation to his cavalry. “Uvarov” in Edmonds, Wiener, and Maude)
Bedouin (mentioned by name)
Boris
Grand duke (also “his highness”)
Berg
(all kind of soldiers, especially “Guardsmen” or “chevalier-guard” as in Wiener.)
Abridged Versions: No break in Bell. The scanning in Dole messes up at 346, as the previous two pages are erroneously and unreadably copied over them. However, they are then preserved so no text is missing, but
the bad two pages remain.
Gibian: line break instead of chapter break.
the bad two pages remain.
Gibian: line break instead of chapter break.
Fuller: Chapter is cut.
Komroff: Some visual description is removed. Most of the people he talks to are removed and the episode where the guards nearly run him over.
Kropotokin: Chapter is removed.
Bromfield: Chapter 14: Again, more overview and general information about the battle. “It is always the case that the more shamefully a battle has been lost, the greater the number of unforeseen circumstances.”
That’s all this chapter is: extra information removed in the full book. Chapter 15: Extra detail about soldiers stealing boots from the dead. “He (Rostov) was not afraid but, as happens with all men at war, an inner instinct
forced him to pay no heed their sufferings, even to feel indifferent towards them..he felt less sympathy for the death and suffering of these thousands of men than for a comrade’s toothache in a calm moment.” (the Tit
joke is “Are you feeling fit?” here). End of chapter.
Simmons: Chapter is cut and replaced with "Bagration, commanding the Russian right flank and unwilling to accept responsibility for ordering his troops to attack, sends his adjutant Nicholas Rostov to the commander in chief
for instructions. Bagration realizes that Rostov will hardly be able to return, if at all, before evening.
That’s all this chapter is: extra information removed in the full book. Chapter 15: Extra detail about soldiers stealing boots from the dead. “He (Rostov) was not afraid but, as happens with all men at war, an inner instinct
forced him to pay no heed their sufferings, even to feel indifferent towards them..he felt less sympathy for the death and suffering of these thousands of men than for a comrade’s toothache in a calm moment.” (the Tit
joke is “Are you feeling fit?” here). End of chapter.
Simmons: Chapter is cut and replaced with "Bagration, commanding the Russian right flank and unwilling to accept responsibility for ordering his troops to attack, sends his adjutant Nicholas Rostov to the commander in chief
for instructions. Bagration realizes that Rostov will hardly be able to return, if at all, before evening.
Additional Notes: “Fyodor Petrovitch Uvarov...objected to the Russian cavalry’s retreat at Austerlitz. He fought in all campaigns against Napoleon.”
Roberts: Page 381: “Pratzen heights...Despite their name, the heights are more undulations than cliff-like slopes and the folds of the ground were capable of hiding relatively large bodies of troops quite close to its plateaued
summit. Some part of them are deceptively steep, and must have seemed more so when marching uphill under fire.”
Fremont-Barnes: Page 107: "Oddly, while Prshibyshevsky and Buxhowden contined to prosecute the offensive in the south as directed, no one informed them of the full extent of the disaster befalling their comrades on the Pratzen Heights. As such, while Kutuzov was ordering the withdrawal of all troops from that feature towards Austerlitz and Krenowitz, he failed to appreciate the danger to which he was exposing his left wing around Tenitz and Sokolnitz."
Roberts: Page 381: “Pratzen heights...Despite their name, the heights are more undulations than cliff-like slopes and the folds of the ground were capable of hiding relatively large bodies of troops quite close to its plateaued
summit. Some part of them are deceptively steep, and must have seemed more so when marching uphill under fire.”
Fremont-Barnes: Page 107: "Oddly, while Prshibyshevsky and Buxhowden contined to prosecute the offensive in the south as directed, no one informed them of the full extent of the disaster befalling their comrades on the Pratzen Heights. As such, while Kutuzov was ordering the withdrawal of all troops from that feature towards Austerlitz and Krenowitz, he failed to appreciate the danger to which he was exposing his left wing around Tenitz and Sokolnitz."
Rey: Page 168: "At 11:00 the signal for retreat was given but would only be executed two hours later, transforming the defeat into a rout. Many soldiers would die frozen in the Satchan pond in crevasses opened up by the
French bombardment...The defeat at Austerlitz, in which the tsar took a direct share because he assumed command of military operations, took a very heavy toll. First, on the human level: the allies lost 35,000 killed or
missing (25-28,000 Russians (Page 169) and 6,000 Austrians), as opposed to only 9,000 for the Grande Armee."
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