Chapter Summaries: Dole: The Rostofs at home. Denisof's poem. Music. Nikolai's thoughts. Suicide? Natasha sings. Her voice and method. Her power.
Briggs: Nikolay returns home. Natasha enchants the company with her singing.
Maude: Nicholas at home. Natasha sings
Pevear and Volkhonsky (Chapters 15 and 16): Nikolai returns home. The party. Natasha sings. Nikolai's talk with his father. Denisov proposes to Natasha. Nikolai rejoins his regiment in Poland.
Translation:
XV.
To say "tomorrow" and withstand a tone of decency was not difficult, but to come home alone, see his sisters, brother, mother, father, to recognize and to ask for money, in which he did not have the right after these honest words, was terrible.
At home they were still not sleeping. The young people at the home of the Rostovs, back from the theatre, having dinner, sat at the clavichord. As only Nikolay entered into the hall, he was swept in that loving, poetic atmosphere, which reigned in that winter at their house and which now, after the offer of Dolohov and the ball of Iogel, seemed, still more thickened, as the air before a thunderstorm, above Sonya and Natasha. Sonya and Natasha in the blue dresses in which they were in at the theater, pretty and knowing this, happily smiling, were standing at the clavichord. Vera with Shinshin played chess in the living room. The old countess, expecting her son and husband, played solitaire with an old noblewoman who lived with them in their house. Denisov with brilliant eyes and ruffled hair sat, throwing his back leg backwards, at the clavichord, and clapping it by his own short fingers, took the chords, and rolling up his eyes, in his little, hoarse, yet faithful voice, sang composed a by him poem "enchantress," to which he tried to find music.
enchantress, say, how power
attracted me to abandoned strings;
what fire is driven in your heart,
which excitedly is spilled out by fingers!
He sang in a passionate voice, glistening the frightened and happy Natasha and her own agate, black eyes.
— Perfect! Fine! — shouted Natasha. — Still another couplet, — she said, not noticing Nikolay.
"In them is all the same," — thought Nikolay, peeping into the living room where he saw Vera and his mother with the old woman.
— Ah! Here is Nikolinka! — Natasha ran up to him.
— Is daddy at home? — he asked.
— How happy I am that you have arrived! — not answering, said Natasha, — We are so funny. Vasiliy Dmitrich stayed for me another day, did you know?
— No, papa has still not come, — said Sonya.
— Coco, you have arrived, come to me, my friend, — said the voice of the countess from the living room. Nikolay came up to his mother, kissed her hand and, silently seating to her table, began to look at her hand, and the laid out cards. From the halls all heard laughter and the funny, persuading voice of Natasha.
— Well, okay, okay, — shouted Denisov, — now there is nothing tp dissuade the barcarolla for you, I beg you.
Countess looked around at her silent son.
— What is with you? — asked the mother at Nikolay.
— Ah, nothing, — he said, as if he was now bothered by this one and that same question. — Is daddy coming soon?
— I think.
"In them all is the same. They know nothing! Where am I to disappear?" thought Nikolay and went again into the hall, where the clavichord was standing.
Sonya sat behind the clavichord and played the prelude of that barcarolla, which Denisov especially loved. Natasha was going to sing. Denisov with enthusiastic eyes watched her.
Nikolay began to walk back and forth by the room.
"And here wishing to force her to sing! — What may she sing? And nothing here is fun," thought Nikolay.
Sonya took the first chord of the prelude.
"My God, I am lost, I am a dishonorable person. A bullet in the forehead, another, what to stay for, but not to sing, he thought. Leave? But what again? I don’t care, let them sing!"
Nikolay gloomily walked by the room, looked at Denisov and the girls, avoiding their views.
"Nikolinka, what is with you?" — asked the look of Sonya, aspiring to him. She immediately saw that something happened with him.
Nikolay turned away from her. Natasha with her sensitivity instantly noticed the state of her brother. She noticed him, but she was in the most fun at that moment, so far away she was from grief, sadness, and reproach that she (as this often is with young people) purposely deceived herself. "No, I am too funny now, so that to spoil my fun to have empathy for a stranger’s grief," she felt, and said to herself: "No, I am rightly mistaken, he should be happy so the same as I am."
— Well, Sonya, — she said and exited into the very middle of the halls, where by her opinion the resonance was better. Lifting her head, lowering her lifelessly dangling hand, as this is done by dancers, Natasha with energetic movement stepping over with a heel on to her toe, walked by the middle of the room and stopped.
"Here am I!" as if she said, answering the enthusiastic look of Denisov, watching behind her.
"And why she rejoices! — thought Nikolay, looking at his sister. — And how she is not bored and not ashamed!" Natasha took the first note, her throat expanded, her chest straightened up, and her eyes passed a serious expression. She did not think about anyone, or about anything in this moment, and from the smile of her folded mouth poured sounds, those sounds which may be produced in those same gaps of time and in those same intervals which for a thousand times may leave you cold, and at the thousand and first time force you to shudder and cry.
Natasha in this winter for the first time began to seriously sing and in particular because of how Denisov admired her singing. She sang now not childishly, it really was not in her to sing this comic, childish diligence, which was in her before; but she sang still not well, as said all connoisseurs and judges which listened to her. "Not processed, but a beautiful voice, she needs to process," said all. But this was said usually now much after her voice fell silent. In that same time, when was heard this untreated voice with improper aspirations and with efforts of transitions, even connoisseurs and judges said nothing, and only enjoyed this untreated voice and only wanted to hear more of it. In her voice was that pristine virginity, that ignorance of forces and that still untreated velvet which so connected with the disadvantages of the art of singing, that it seemed nothing could be changed in this voice, and not spoil it.
"What such is this? — thought Nikolay, upon hearing her voice and widely revealing her eyes. — What has been made from her? How does she sing now?" — he thought. And suddenly all the world for him was focused in the pending next notes, next phrases, and all in the world was made divided in the three paces: "About my cruel love...417 One, two, three...One, two... three... One... Oh mio crudele affetto (About my cruel love)...One, two, three... One. Oh, our life is stupid! — thought Nikolay. — All this misfortune, money, Dolohov, malice, and honor — all this is nonsense... but here it is present... Well, Natasha, well, darling! Well mother!...How does she take this? Taken! Thank God!" — and he himself not noticing that he sang, so that to strengthen this, taking the second and the third high notes."My God! So okay! Is it really I taking this? So happy!" he thought.
Oh, how trembled this third, and how something set off the best that was in the soul of Rostov. And this something was whatever from the world, and above the world. What here is losing, Dolohov, and word of honor!...All is nonsense! One can slaughter, steal and all the same be happy...
417 Oh mio crudele affetto...
Time: see previous chapter, winter
Mentioned: To-morrow
Locations: the Rostovs' home
Mentioned: theatre, Iohel's ball
Pevear and Volkhonsky: The Dolokhov episode with Sonya has not made the house any less happy. Nikolai brings his unhappiness into the happiness. “For them everything’s the same,” thought Nikolai”, again a realization that one’s own feelings do not affect those around you.
Briggs: Nikolay returns home. Natasha enchants the company with her singing.
Maude: Nicholas at home. Natasha sings
Pevear and Volkhonsky (Chapters 15 and 16): Nikolai returns home. The party. Natasha sings. Nikolai's talk with his father. Denisov proposes to Natasha. Nikolai rejoins his regiment in Poland.
Translation:
XV.
To say "tomorrow" and withstand a tone of decency was not difficult, but to come home alone, see his sisters, brother, mother, father, to recognize and to ask for money, in which he did not have the right after these honest words, was terrible.
At home they were still not sleeping. The young people at the home of the Rostovs, back from the theatre, having dinner, sat at the clavichord. As only Nikolay entered into the hall, he was swept in that loving, poetic atmosphere, which reigned in that winter at their house and which now, after the offer of Dolohov and the ball of Iogel, seemed, still more thickened, as the air before a thunderstorm, above Sonya and Natasha. Sonya and Natasha in the blue dresses in which they were in at the theater, pretty and knowing this, happily smiling, were standing at the clavichord. Vera with Shinshin played chess in the living room. The old countess, expecting her son and husband, played solitaire with an old noblewoman who lived with them in their house. Denisov with brilliant eyes and ruffled hair sat, throwing his back leg backwards, at the clavichord, and clapping it by his own short fingers, took the chords, and rolling up his eyes, in his little, hoarse, yet faithful voice, sang composed a by him poem "enchantress," to which he tried to find music.
enchantress, say, how power
attracted me to abandoned strings;
what fire is driven in your heart,
which excitedly is spilled out by fingers!
He sang in a passionate voice, glistening the frightened and happy Natasha and her own agate, black eyes.
— Perfect! Fine! — shouted Natasha. — Still another couplet, — she said, not noticing Nikolay.
"In them is all the same," — thought Nikolay, peeping into the living room where he saw Vera and his mother with the old woman.
— Ah! Here is Nikolinka! — Natasha ran up to him.
— Is daddy at home? — he asked.
— How happy I am that you have arrived! — not answering, said Natasha, — We are so funny. Vasiliy Dmitrich stayed for me another day, did you know?
— No, papa has still not come, — said Sonya.
— Coco, you have arrived, come to me, my friend, — said the voice of the countess from the living room. Nikolay came up to his mother, kissed her hand and, silently seating to her table, began to look at her hand, and the laid out cards. From the halls all heard laughter and the funny, persuading voice of Natasha.
— Well, okay, okay, — shouted Denisov, — now there is nothing tp dissuade the barcarolla for you, I beg you.
Countess looked around at her silent son.
— What is with you? — asked the mother at Nikolay.
— Ah, nothing, — he said, as if he was now bothered by this one and that same question. — Is daddy coming soon?
— I think.
"In them all is the same. They know nothing! Where am I to disappear?" thought Nikolay and went again into the hall, where the clavichord was standing.
Sonya sat behind the clavichord and played the prelude of that barcarolla, which Denisov especially loved. Natasha was going to sing. Denisov with enthusiastic eyes watched her.
Nikolay began to walk back and forth by the room.
"And here wishing to force her to sing! — What may she sing? And nothing here is fun," thought Nikolay.
Sonya took the first chord of the prelude.
"My God, I am lost, I am a dishonorable person. A bullet in the forehead, another, what to stay for, but not to sing, he thought. Leave? But what again? I don’t care, let them sing!"
Nikolay gloomily walked by the room, looked at Denisov and the girls, avoiding their views.
"Nikolinka, what is with you?" — asked the look of Sonya, aspiring to him. She immediately saw that something happened with him.
Nikolay turned away from her. Natasha with her sensitivity instantly noticed the state of her brother. She noticed him, but she was in the most fun at that moment, so far away she was from grief, sadness, and reproach that she (as this often is with young people) purposely deceived herself. "No, I am too funny now, so that to spoil my fun to have empathy for a stranger’s grief," she felt, and said to herself: "No, I am rightly mistaken, he should be happy so the same as I am."
— Well, Sonya, — she said and exited into the very middle of the halls, where by her opinion the resonance was better. Lifting her head, lowering her lifelessly dangling hand, as this is done by dancers, Natasha with energetic movement stepping over with a heel on to her toe, walked by the middle of the room and stopped.
"Here am I!" as if she said, answering the enthusiastic look of Denisov, watching behind her.
"And why she rejoices! — thought Nikolay, looking at his sister. — And how she is not bored and not ashamed!" Natasha took the first note, her throat expanded, her chest straightened up, and her eyes passed a serious expression. She did not think about anyone, or about anything in this moment, and from the smile of her folded mouth poured sounds, those sounds which may be produced in those same gaps of time and in those same intervals which for a thousand times may leave you cold, and at the thousand and first time force you to shudder and cry.
Natasha in this winter for the first time began to seriously sing and in particular because of how Denisov admired her singing. She sang now not childishly, it really was not in her to sing this comic, childish diligence, which was in her before; but she sang still not well, as said all connoisseurs and judges which listened to her. "Not processed, but a beautiful voice, she needs to process," said all. But this was said usually now much after her voice fell silent. In that same time, when was heard this untreated voice with improper aspirations and with efforts of transitions, even connoisseurs and judges said nothing, and only enjoyed this untreated voice and only wanted to hear more of it. In her voice was that pristine virginity, that ignorance of forces and that still untreated velvet which so connected with the disadvantages of the art of singing, that it seemed nothing could be changed in this voice, and not spoil it.
"What such is this? — thought Nikolay, upon hearing her voice and widely revealing her eyes. — What has been made from her? How does she sing now?" — he thought. And suddenly all the world for him was focused in the pending next notes, next phrases, and all in the world was made divided in the three paces: "About my cruel love...417 One, two, three...One, two... three... One... Oh mio crudele affetto (About my cruel love)...One, two, three... One. Oh, our life is stupid! — thought Nikolay. — All this misfortune, money, Dolohov, malice, and honor — all this is nonsense... but here it is present... Well, Natasha, well, darling! Well mother!...How does she take this? Taken! Thank God!" — and he himself not noticing that he sang, so that to strengthen this, taking the second and the third high notes."My God! So okay! Is it really I taking this? So happy!" he thought.
Oh, how trembled this third, and how something set off the best that was in the soul of Rostov. And this something was whatever from the world, and above the world. What here is losing, Dolohov, and word of honor!...All is nonsense! One can slaughter, steal and all the same be happy...
417 Oh mio crudele affetto...
Time: see previous chapter, winter
Mentioned: To-morrow
Locations: the Rostovs' home
Mentioned: theatre, Iohel's ball
Pevear and Volkhonsky: The Dolokhov episode with Sonya has not made the house any less happy. Nikolai brings his unhappiness into the happiness. “For them everything’s the same,” thought Nikolai”, again a realization that one’s own feelings do not affect those around you.
“Why on earth make her sing!...There’s no fun it it at all...My God, I’m a dishonest, lost man. A bullet in the head is all that’s left for me, not singling…”
“She was so far from grief, sorrow, reproach, that she purposely deceived herself (as often happens with young people)...he must be as merry as I am”.
“From her lips composed into a smile sounds poured forth, sounds that anyone can produce for the same lengths of time, at the same intervals, but which leave one cold a thousand times, then for the thousand and first time make one
tremble and weep”.
tremble and weep”.
Denisov’s presence and support push Natasha further from her childhood.
“Oh, how that third had vibrated, and how touched was something that was best in Rostov’s soul. And that something was independent of anything in the world and higher than anything in the world. What are gambling losses, and
Dolokhovs, and words of honor!...It’s all nonsense! One can kill, and steal, and still be happy”.
Dolokhovs, and words of honor!...It’s all nonsense! One can kill, and steal, and still be happy”.
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 *):
Nikolai (also “Nikolenka” and “Koko”)
Dolokhof
Iogel
Sonya
Natasha
Viera
Shinshin
Countess Rostova (“the old countess”)
Vasili Dmitritch Denisof
Count Rostov (just “papenka” and “husband”)
(also “an old noblewoman who made her home in their family”, as in Dole. “old gentlewoman who was living in her house” in Wiener. “An old lady---noble but poor to whom they had given a home” in Bell.)
Abridged Versions: No break for Bell.
Fuller: Entire Chapter is Cut
Gibian: Chapter 14.
Gibian: Chapter 14.
Komroff: Denisov’s song is cut, but more importantly, while Natasha’s singing is focused on, Rostov’s joining in and momentary jubilation is removed. No break.
Kropotkin: Chapter 10: A lot of detail at the first of the chapter that describes what the family is doing and Denisov’s song is cut. Rostov’s realization at the end of the chapter is shortened and flows directly into the next chapter.
Indeed, not only is there not a break for Kropotkin, but the next chapter starts in the same paragraph.
Indeed, not only is there not a break for Kropotkin, but the next chapter starts in the same paragraph.
Bromfield: No Denisov song, no big detail about the family playing games, but straight into the music. That section plays out mostly the same. No break.
Simmons: Chapter 14: Denisov's poem is gone, but the rest of the chapter is preserved.
Simmons: Chapter 14: Denisov's poem is gone, but the rest of the chapter is preserved.
Additional Notes:
Lucerne (Maude/Briggs): Page 287: “‘That is so under the new republican laws,’...’They don't want to understand that a poor fellow must live somehow. If I were not a cripple, I would work. But does my singing hurt anyone?
What does it mean? The rich can live as they please, but un pauvre tiable like myself mayn’t even live. Are these the laws a republic should have? If so, we don’t want a republic - isn’t that so, dear so? We don't want a
republic, but we want - we simply want...we want’ - he hesitated a while - ‘we want natural laws.’”
Davidov/Troubetzkoy: Page 9: Denis Davidov, the famous partisan of the 1812 War, was a general of merit, a well-known poet, an authority on the theory of warfare and a chronicler of military history. He was, in addition, an astute landowner, a competent estate manager, a passionate hunter, a gifted conversationalist and a successful ladies' man. His literary activities earned him a deserved reputation and his personal attractiveness charmed many of his contemporaries, including the famous Russian poet Pushkin, despite a fifteen-year age difference....he makes an appearance in Tolstoy's War and Peace in the person of Denisov...
Confession (Kentish): Page 30: “If a magician had come and offered to grant my wishes I would not have known what to say. If in my intoxicated moments I still had the habit of desire, rather than real desire, in my sober moments I knew that it was a delusion and that I wanted nothing. I did not even wish to know the truth because I had guessed what it was. The truth was that life is meaningless...But it was impossible to stop, and impossible to turn back or close my eyes in order not to see that there was nothing ahead other than deception of life and of happiness, and the reality of suffering and death: of complete annihilation...I was afraid of life and strove against it, yet I still hoped for something from it.”
Lucerne (Maude/Briggs): Page 287: “‘That is so under the new republican laws,’...’They don't want to understand that a poor fellow must live somehow. If I were not a cripple, I would work. But does my singing hurt anyone?
What does it mean? The rich can live as they please, but un pauvre tiable like myself mayn’t even live. Are these the laws a republic should have? If so, we don’t want a republic - isn’t that so, dear so? We don't want a
republic, but we want - we simply want...we want’ - he hesitated a while - ‘we want natural laws.’”
Davidov/Troubetzkoy: Page 9: Denis Davidov, the famous partisan of the 1812 War, was a general of merit, a well-known poet, an authority on the theory of warfare and a chronicler of military history. He was, in addition, an astute landowner, a competent estate manager, a passionate hunter, a gifted conversationalist and a successful ladies' man. His literary activities earned him a deserved reputation and his personal attractiveness charmed many of his contemporaries, including the famous Russian poet Pushkin, despite a fifteen-year age difference....he makes an appearance in Tolstoy's War and Peace in the person of Denisov...
Confession (Kentish): Page 30: “If a magician had come and offered to grant my wishes I would not have known what to say. If in my intoxicated moments I still had the habit of desire, rather than real desire, in my sober moments I knew that it was a delusion and that I wanted nothing. I did not even wish to know the truth because I had guessed what it was. The truth was that life is meaningless...But it was impossible to stop, and impossible to turn back or close my eyes in order not to see that there was nothing ahead other than deception of life and of happiness, and the reality of suffering and death: of complete annihilation...I was afraid of life and strove against it, yet I still hoped for something from it.”
No comments:
Post a Comment