Chapter Summaries: Dole: The Pavlograd hussars attacked by Lannes and defeated. Ordered to retreat. Quarrel between the two officers. The challenge. The test. Rostof's squadron facing the enemy. The charge. Nikolai's sensations. Nikolai falls. The hook-nosed Frenchman. Nikolai runs. Escapes. A benumbed arm.
Briggs: Two Russian commanders at loggerheads. Nikolay is injured.
Translation:
XIX.
The attack of the 6th Jaegers provided the retreat of the right flank. In the center of the action was the forgotten battery of Tushin, who had time to light up Schongraben, stopping the movement of the French. The French put out the fire, carried by the wind, and got time back. The retreat of the center across the ravine was committed hastily and noisy; however the troops stepping back were not confused by commanders. Yet the left flank, which once was attacked and went around the excellent forces of the French under the superiority of Lannes and which consisted of the Azovsky and Podolsky infantry and the Pavlograd hussar regiments, was disturbed. Bagration sent Zherkov to the general of the left flank with an order to immediately go back.
Zherkov smartly, not taking away his hand from his cap, touched his horse and galloped. Yet barely had he driven off from Bagration did his forces change. In him was found an insurmountable fear, and he could not go there, where it was dangerous.
Driving to the troops of the left flank, he went not forward, where the shooting was, but began to look for the general and the chiefs there, where they could not be, and because of this did not deliver the orders.
The command of the left flank belonged to the seniority of the regimental commander, this regiment itself, which was presented under Braunau to Kutuzov and in which served the soldier Dolohov. The command of the same extreme left flank was intended for the commander of the Pavlograd regiment, where served Rostov, owing to a misunderstanding happening. Both chiefs were strongly annoyed with each other, and in that very time as on the right flank for a long time already was this business going on and the French now began the offensive, both chiefs were busy in negotiations which had the purpose of offending each other. The regiments again, as the cavalry, so as the infantry, were quite little prepared for the lying ahead business. The people of the regiments, from the soldier to the general, were not waiting for the battle and were calmly occupied with peaceful business: feeding horses in the cavalry, picking up firewood in the infantry.
— He is, however, older prepared in the rank, — spoke the German hussar colonel, blushing and turning to a driving adjutant, — that leave him to do as he wants to. I cannot sacrifice their hussars. Trumpeter! Play the retreat!
Yet business came in a hurry. The cannonade and the shooting, merging, thundering right and in the center, and the French hooded shooters of Lannes now passed the dammed mills and lined up on this side in two gun shots. The infantry colonel with the trembling gait came up to his horse and, climbing up on it and very directly and highly went to the Pavlograd commander. The regimental commanders gathered together with courteous bows and with hidden malice in their hearts.
— Again it’s the same, colonel, — spoke the general, — I cannot, however, leave half the people in the wood. I beg you, I beg you, — he repeated, — take the position and prepare to attack.
— But I beg you not to get mixed up in this business, — was the response of the getting hot colonel. — If you were a cavalryman...
— I am not a cavalryman, colonel, but I am a Russian general, and if to you this is unknown...
— I very much know, your excellency, — the colonel suddenly cried out, touching his horse, and making him crimson-red. — If not anything is welcomed in rows, and you will take a look that this position is nowhere unsuitable. I do not want to exterminate my own regiment for your pleasures.
— You forget, colonel. I do not pleasure to observe this and say that I will not allow it.
The general, taking the invitation of the colonel to a tournament of courage, straightening his chest and frowning, went from him together by the direction of the rows, as if all their disagreement must be decided there, in the rows, under bullets. They had arrived in the chain, a few bullets flew by above them, and they silently stopped. Looking at the rows there was nothing, so as with these places in which they were standing before, and it was clear that by the bushes and ravines the cavalry act was impossible, and that the French bypassed the left wing. The general and colonel strictly and very much looked like two roosters preparing to battle each other, in vain waiting for signs of cowardice. Both passed the exam. So as to speak was there nothing, for they did not want to give the other the opportunity to say that he was the first left from under the bullets, they would long stand there, mutually testing their bravery should at this time in the wood, almost behind them, they had not heard the rattle of the guns and deafening merging of shouting. The French attacked the soldiers that were in the wood with firewood. The hussars now could not be back together with the infantry. They were cut off from the way of retreat by the left French chain. Now, how uncomfortable the terrain was, it was necessary to attack so that to lay the road themselves.
The squadron, where served Rostov, that only had time to sit on their horses, was stopped to face the enemy. Again, as at the Enns bridge, between the squadron and the enemy was nobody, and between them, sharing them, lied that same terrible feature of suspense and fear, as would be the feature separating the alive from the dead. All people felt this hell, and the question about whether they would get over or not get over this hell, worried them.
To the front drove the colonel, angrily replying something to the questions of the officers and, as a person frantically insisting to them, gave the order. No one spoke anything certainly but by the squadron flashed a rumor about an attack. A ringing out in the squad built, then screeched sabers taken out from scabbards. Yet all still did not move. The troops of the left flank, and the infantry and hussars, felt that the superiors themselves did not know what to do, and the indecision of the chiefs was reported to the troops.
“Soon, soon it will be”, thought Rostov, feeling that finally advanced the time to know the enjoyment of attacks, about which he had so much heard from his hussar friends.
— With the Lord, guys, — was heard the voice of Denisov, — trotting, march!
In the front were a number of swayed horses. Grachik pulled on the reins and itself set off.
On the right Rostov saw the first ranks of the hussars, but still farther ahead could be seen a dark strip, which he could not consider, but counted as the enemy. Shots were heard, but in the distance.
— Add to a trot! — was heard in the squad, and Rostov felt, as lending itself backwards, interrupting into a gallop, his Grachik.
He forward guessed his movements, and he became all more and more fun. He saw a lonely wood ahead. This wood first was ahead, in the middle of those features which seemed so scary. But here and getting over this hell, and not only was nothing scary, but all became more fun and livelier. “Oh, how will I chop them,” thought Rostov, squeezing in his hand the hilt of the saber.
— Hoo-oo-oo-raaaah!! — buzzed voices.
“Well, hit now who will be or was,” thought Rostov, indenting his spurs into Grachik, and, driving by the others, released him in all his career. Ahead now was visible the enemy. Suddenly, as if surrounded by a broom, quilted something by the squadron. Rostov raised his saber, preparing to hack, but in this time of galloping ahead of the soldier of Nikitenko, separating from him, Rostov felt, as if in a dream that continued to carry him with unnatural speed forward and together from staying in that location. Behind him the familiar hussar Bandarchuk jumped at him and looked angrily. The horse of Bandarchuk dodged, and he jumped past.
“What again is this? I am not moving? — I fell, I am killed…” in one moment asked and replied Rostov. He was now alone in the middle of the field. Instead of moving with the horses and hussars backwards he saw around himself motionless land and stubble. The warmth of blood was below him, “no, I am injured, and my horse killed.” Grachik rose was on its front legs, but fell, flattening the rider’s leg. From the head of the horse flowed blood. The horse fought and could not get up. Rostov wanted to get up and fell too: his bag caught behind the saddle. Where ours were, where were the French — he did not know. Nobody was around.
Freeing his leg, he rose. “Where, from what part is now that feature, which so abruptly separated the two troops?” — he asked himself and could not answer. “Now is it not evil that something happened to me? There are such cases, and what is needed to do in these cases?” — he asked himself to get up; and in this time he felt that something unnecessary was hanging on his left numb hand. His wrist was as if alien. He looked around at his hand, in vain looking for blood. “Well, here are people, — he thought happily, seeing some people fleeing to him. — They will help me!” ahead of these people ran one in a strange shako and in a blue greatcoat, black, sunburnt, with a hunchbacked nose. Two more and still more ran behind. One of them spoke something strange, non-Russian. Between and behind such the same people, in these same shakos, stood one Russian hussar. He was held behind his hands; behind him was held his horse.
“Right, our captive... Yes. Is he really to take me? What is behind these people?” all thought Rostov, not believing his eyes. “Is it really the French?” He watched the approaching French, and, despite that behind a second galloped only then, so that to overtake these French and chop them down, so close they seemed to him now so terrible that he did not believe his eyes. “Who are they? What for do they run? Is it really to me? Is it really to me they run? And what for? To kill me? Me, who is so loved by all?” — he remembered the love of him by his mother, family, friends, and the intention of the enemies to kill him seemed impossible. “But they may kill me!” He for more than ten seconds stood, not moving from his place and not understanding his situation. The front of the French with the hunchbacked nose ran up so close that now it was seen the expression of his face. And the heated, alien physiognomy of this human, which with bayonet in superiority, holding back breath, easily ran up to him, scaring Rostov. He grabbed his pistol and, instead of firing it at him, threw it at the Frenchman and ran to the bushes where the forces were. Not with that feeling of doubt and fight, with how he went on the Enns bridge, he ran, with but the feeling of a hare, running away from dogs. One inseparable feeling of fear for his young, happy life controlled all of his essence. Quickly jumping over between, with that swiftness with which he ran playing at race and catch, he flew by the field, occasionally turning around with his pale, good, young face, and a cold horror ran through his back. “No, better not look,” he thought, yet, running up to the bushes, turned back one more time. The French were behind, and even in that moment as he turned back, the front only changed the trot in his step and, turning around, strongly shouted something back to his friend. Rostov stopped. “It is not so, — he thought, — it may not be, for them to kill me.” But his left hand was so heavy, as if a two-pound weight was hung to him. He could not run farther. The French had stopped too and aimed. Rostov squinted and bent down. One, and then another bullet flew by, buzzing past him. He collected his last forces, took his left hand in his right and ran to the bushes. At the bushes were the Russian shooters.
Time: See previous chapter
Location: See previous chapter
Mentioned: Schongraben, French, Braunau, German, Russian, the bridge at Enns
Pevear and Volkhonsky notes: Tushin’s battery causes a fire that the French have to try to put out, giving the Russians time to leave. That’s the right flank, the center is able to leave, but the left is in disarray. Bagration is what holds everyone together as the last two chapters have indicated. Without him, Zherkov feels lost and displays cowardice.
Briggs: Two Russian commanders at loggerheads. Nikolay is injured.
Translation:
XIX.
The attack of the 6th Jaegers provided the retreat of the right flank. In the center of the action was the forgotten battery of Tushin, who had time to light up Schongraben, stopping the movement of the French. The French put out the fire, carried by the wind, and got time back. The retreat of the center across the ravine was committed hastily and noisy; however the troops stepping back were not confused by commanders. Yet the left flank, which once was attacked and went around the excellent forces of the French under the superiority of Lannes and which consisted of the Azovsky and Podolsky infantry and the Pavlograd hussar regiments, was disturbed. Bagration sent Zherkov to the general of the left flank with an order to immediately go back.
Zherkov smartly, not taking away his hand from his cap, touched his horse and galloped. Yet barely had he driven off from Bagration did his forces change. In him was found an insurmountable fear, and he could not go there, where it was dangerous.
Driving to the troops of the left flank, he went not forward, where the shooting was, but began to look for the general and the chiefs there, where they could not be, and because of this did not deliver the orders.
The command of the left flank belonged to the seniority of the regimental commander, this regiment itself, which was presented under Braunau to Kutuzov and in which served the soldier Dolohov. The command of the same extreme left flank was intended for the commander of the Pavlograd regiment, where served Rostov, owing to a misunderstanding happening. Both chiefs were strongly annoyed with each other, and in that very time as on the right flank for a long time already was this business going on and the French now began the offensive, both chiefs were busy in negotiations which had the purpose of offending each other. The regiments again, as the cavalry, so as the infantry, were quite little prepared for the lying ahead business. The people of the regiments, from the soldier to the general, were not waiting for the battle and were calmly occupied with peaceful business: feeding horses in the cavalry, picking up firewood in the infantry.
— He is, however, older prepared in the rank, — spoke the German hussar colonel, blushing and turning to a driving adjutant, — that leave him to do as he wants to. I cannot sacrifice their hussars. Trumpeter! Play the retreat!
Yet business came in a hurry. The cannonade and the shooting, merging, thundering right and in the center, and the French hooded shooters of Lannes now passed the dammed mills and lined up on this side in two gun shots. The infantry colonel with the trembling gait came up to his horse and, climbing up on it and very directly and highly went to the Pavlograd commander. The regimental commanders gathered together with courteous bows and with hidden malice in their hearts.
— Again it’s the same, colonel, — spoke the general, — I cannot, however, leave half the people in the wood. I beg you, I beg you, — he repeated, — take the position and prepare to attack.
— But I beg you not to get mixed up in this business, — was the response of the getting hot colonel. — If you were a cavalryman...
— I am not a cavalryman, colonel, but I am a Russian general, and if to you this is unknown...
— I very much know, your excellency, — the colonel suddenly cried out, touching his horse, and making him crimson-red. — If not anything is welcomed in rows, and you will take a look that this position is nowhere unsuitable. I do not want to exterminate my own regiment for your pleasures.
— You forget, colonel. I do not pleasure to observe this and say that I will not allow it.
The general, taking the invitation of the colonel to a tournament of courage, straightening his chest and frowning, went from him together by the direction of the rows, as if all their disagreement must be decided there, in the rows, under bullets. They had arrived in the chain, a few bullets flew by above them, and they silently stopped. Looking at the rows there was nothing, so as with these places in which they were standing before, and it was clear that by the bushes and ravines the cavalry act was impossible, and that the French bypassed the left wing. The general and colonel strictly and very much looked like two roosters preparing to battle each other, in vain waiting for signs of cowardice. Both passed the exam. So as to speak was there nothing, for they did not want to give the other the opportunity to say that he was the first left from under the bullets, they would long stand there, mutually testing their bravery should at this time in the wood, almost behind them, they had not heard the rattle of the guns and deafening merging of shouting. The French attacked the soldiers that were in the wood with firewood. The hussars now could not be back together with the infantry. They were cut off from the way of retreat by the left French chain. Now, how uncomfortable the terrain was, it was necessary to attack so that to lay the road themselves.
The squadron, where served Rostov, that only had time to sit on their horses, was stopped to face the enemy. Again, as at the Enns bridge, between the squadron and the enemy was nobody, and between them, sharing them, lied that same terrible feature of suspense and fear, as would be the feature separating the alive from the dead. All people felt this hell, and the question about whether they would get over or not get over this hell, worried them.
To the front drove the colonel, angrily replying something to the questions of the officers and, as a person frantically insisting to them, gave the order. No one spoke anything certainly but by the squadron flashed a rumor about an attack. A ringing out in the squad built, then screeched sabers taken out from scabbards. Yet all still did not move. The troops of the left flank, and the infantry and hussars, felt that the superiors themselves did not know what to do, and the indecision of the chiefs was reported to the troops.
“Soon, soon it will be”, thought Rostov, feeling that finally advanced the time to know the enjoyment of attacks, about which he had so much heard from his hussar friends.
— With the Lord, guys, — was heard the voice of Denisov, — trotting, march!
In the front were a number of swayed horses. Grachik pulled on the reins and itself set off.
On the right Rostov saw the first ranks of the hussars, but still farther ahead could be seen a dark strip, which he could not consider, but counted as the enemy. Shots were heard, but in the distance.
— Add to a trot! — was heard in the squad, and Rostov felt, as lending itself backwards, interrupting into a gallop, his Grachik.
He forward guessed his movements, and he became all more and more fun. He saw a lonely wood ahead. This wood first was ahead, in the middle of those features which seemed so scary. But here and getting over this hell, and not only was nothing scary, but all became more fun and livelier. “Oh, how will I chop them,” thought Rostov, squeezing in his hand the hilt of the saber.
— Hoo-oo-oo-raaaah!! — buzzed voices.
“Well, hit now who will be or was,” thought Rostov, indenting his spurs into Grachik, and, driving by the others, released him in all his career. Ahead now was visible the enemy. Suddenly, as if surrounded by a broom, quilted something by the squadron. Rostov raised his saber, preparing to hack, but in this time of galloping ahead of the soldier of Nikitenko, separating from him, Rostov felt, as if in a dream that continued to carry him with unnatural speed forward and together from staying in that location. Behind him the familiar hussar Bandarchuk jumped at him and looked angrily. The horse of Bandarchuk dodged, and he jumped past.
“What again is this? I am not moving? — I fell, I am killed…” in one moment asked and replied Rostov. He was now alone in the middle of the field. Instead of moving with the horses and hussars backwards he saw around himself motionless land and stubble. The warmth of blood was below him, “no, I am injured, and my horse killed.” Grachik rose was on its front legs, but fell, flattening the rider’s leg. From the head of the horse flowed blood. The horse fought and could not get up. Rostov wanted to get up and fell too: his bag caught behind the saddle. Where ours were, where were the French — he did not know. Nobody was around.
Freeing his leg, he rose. “Where, from what part is now that feature, which so abruptly separated the two troops?” — he asked himself and could not answer. “Now is it not evil that something happened to me? There are such cases, and what is needed to do in these cases?” — he asked himself to get up; and in this time he felt that something unnecessary was hanging on his left numb hand. His wrist was as if alien. He looked around at his hand, in vain looking for blood. “Well, here are people, — he thought happily, seeing some people fleeing to him. — They will help me!” ahead of these people ran one in a strange shako and in a blue greatcoat, black, sunburnt, with a hunchbacked nose. Two more and still more ran behind. One of them spoke something strange, non-Russian. Between and behind such the same people, in these same shakos, stood one Russian hussar. He was held behind his hands; behind him was held his horse.
“Right, our captive... Yes. Is he really to take me? What is behind these people?” all thought Rostov, not believing his eyes. “Is it really the French?” He watched the approaching French, and, despite that behind a second galloped only then, so that to overtake these French and chop them down, so close they seemed to him now so terrible that he did not believe his eyes. “Who are they? What for do they run? Is it really to me? Is it really to me they run? And what for? To kill me? Me, who is so loved by all?” — he remembered the love of him by his mother, family, friends, and the intention of the enemies to kill him seemed impossible. “But they may kill me!” He for more than ten seconds stood, not moving from his place and not understanding his situation. The front of the French with the hunchbacked nose ran up so close that now it was seen the expression of his face. And the heated, alien physiognomy of this human, which with bayonet in superiority, holding back breath, easily ran up to him, scaring Rostov. He grabbed his pistol and, instead of firing it at him, threw it at the Frenchman and ran to the bushes where the forces were. Not with that feeling of doubt and fight, with how he went on the Enns bridge, he ran, with but the feeling of a hare, running away from dogs. One inseparable feeling of fear for his young, happy life controlled all of his essence. Quickly jumping over between, with that swiftness with which he ran playing at race and catch, he flew by the field, occasionally turning around with his pale, good, young face, and a cold horror ran through his back. “No, better not look,” he thought, yet, running up to the bushes, turned back one more time. The French were behind, and even in that moment as he turned back, the front only changed the trot in his step and, turning around, strongly shouted something back to his friend. Rostov stopped. “It is not so, — he thought, — it may not be, for them to kill me.” But his left hand was so heavy, as if a two-pound weight was hung to him. He could not run farther. The French had stopped too and aimed. Rostov squinted and bent down. One, and then another bullet flew by, buzzing past him. He collected his last forces, took his left hand in his right and ran to the bushes. At the bushes were the Russian shooters.
Time: See previous chapter
Location: See previous chapter
Mentioned: Schongraben, French, Braunau, German, Russian, the bridge at Enns
Pevear and Volkhonsky notes: Tushin’s battery causes a fire that the French have to try to put out, giving the Russians time to leave. That’s the right flank, the center is able to leave, but the left is in disarray. Bagration is what holds everyone together as the last two chapters have indicated. Without him, Zherkov feels lost and displays cowardice.
Establishment of it being a Rostov chapter. The left flank is stuck in internal strife and can’t quite aruing with each other. We see specifically the divide between the infantry and the calvary yet again. Just as in Berg, just as on the bridge,
just as the infantry officer and Tushin.
just as the infantry officer and Tushin.
Because of inaction due to the argument between the colonel of hussars and general, the hussars now have to attack instead of retreating.
Reminder, “as on the Enns bridge” of the line between the living and the dead.
“The indecisiveness of the superiors communicated itself to the troops”
Rostov heavily anticipates the battle, fearing it, “But then they crossed that line, and not only was there nothing frightening, but everything became merrier and livelier.”
Rostov feels as if he is in a dream, with contradictions all around him, cultivating a sense of detachment.
The killing of Little Rook and the confusion of Rostov, feeling as if he has been killed. The line between the armies has disappeared.
When the French approach: “‘Who are they? Why are they running? Can it be they’re running to me? Can it be? And why? To kill me? Me, whom everybody loves so?” He remembered his mother’s love for him, his family’s, his friends’,
and the enemy’s intention to kill him seemed impossible.”
and the enemy’s intention to kill him seemed impossible.”
Rostov throws his gun and runs “with the feeling of a hare escaping from hounds”
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 *):
Tushin (debatable whether or not he is a character inside the chapter or just mentioned, but since it is in an expository section, I say just mentioned)
Lannes
Bagration (whether or not he is a mentioned character or a character in the chapter really depends on whether you take the authority of “had sent” as in Dole, Garnett, and Maude or “sent” as in Wiener and Bell. “dispatched” in Briggs.)
Zherkof
The regimental commander (the one at the beginning of part 2, as made explicit by the text. Also “infantry general”)
Dolokhof
Bogdanuitch (just the “colonel of hussars”)
Aide (whom Bogdanuitch speaks to)
Nikolai Rostof (just Rostof)
Denisof
Grachik
Nikitenko (as in Dole, Mandelker, and Edmonds. “Nikolenko” in Dunnigan. “Nikitenka” in Bell. “a hussar”)
Bandarchuk (as in Dole, Briggs, and Wiener. “Bondarchuk” in Maude. “a hussar.” Name removed in Bell.)
(unnamed soldiers on both sides)
Abridged Versions: Line break in Bell.
Gibian: End of Chapter 14.
Gibian: End of Chapter 14.
Fuller: The argument between the colonel of hussars and regimental commander is removed. Rest of chapter seems preserved. Followed by line break.
Komroff: The Zherkof section is removed. Rest of chapter is preserved. Followed by line break.
Kropotkin: Chapter 9: Chapter is preserved until the very end, the last sentence ending with “trying to escape from the dogs.” This leaves out the last section where he hides. Chapter break.
Bromfield: Chapter 20: Short added conversation between a non-commissioned officer and another soldier about whether a battle is coming. We also get extra detail that he had made things up with Bogdanich and had received a
medal. The rest of the chapter is the same and ends the chapter
Simmons: The argument between the generals is removed. End of chapter 14.
medal. The rest of the chapter is the same and ends the chapter
Simmons: The argument between the generals is removed. End of chapter 14.
Additional Notes:
Davidov: Page 27: "An adjutant to Prince Bagration and, therefore, without a command of my own, I begged to be sent to the front line, ostensibly to keep track of enemy movements, but really to prance about on my horse, fire my pistols, flourish my sword, and (if the chance arose) hack away at the enemy.....Anger suddenly welled up in me against a total stranger who, God knows, was simply carrying out his duty and obligations just like myself."
Davidov: Page 27: "An adjutant to Prince Bagration and, therefore, without a command of my own, I begged to be sent to the front line, ostensibly to keep track of enemy movements, but really to prance about on my horse, fire my pistols, flourish my sword, and (if the chance arose) hack away at the enemy.....Anger suddenly welled up in me against a total stranger who, God knows, was simply carrying out his duty and obligations just like myself."
The Raid (Garnett): Page 6: “‘Ensign Alanin, a subaltern of my company...It’s only a month since he joined from the military school.”
“I suppose it’s the first time he’s going into action,” I said.
“That’s just why he’s so happy about it!” answered the captain, shaking his head with an air of profundity. “Ah, youth!”
“Well, how can he help being glad? I can understand that for a young officer it must be very interesting.”
The captain did not speak for a couple of minutes.
“That’s just what I say; it’s youth!” he resumed in his bass voice. “What is there to be pleased about before one knows what it’s like! When you have been out often, you’re not pleased at it. We’ve now, let us say, twenty officers on the march; that somebody will be killed or wounded, that’s certain. To-day it’s my turn, to-morrow his, and next day another man’s. So what is there to be happy about?”
The Law of Love and the Law of Violence: Page 159: The hared for the Germans for the French and the English, and of the English for the Yankees, and of the Russians for the Japanese, etc., and vice versa, is considered the
virtue of patriotism
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