Chapter Summaries: Dole: Nikolai given a ride on the gun-carriage of the Matveyevna. Bivouac. The living river. The night scene. After the battle. Rostof's sensations. Scraps of talk. Tushin summoned to the general. Bagration at the cottage. The captured standard. The regimental commander's story. True because he believes it true. Praise for the blameworthy. Blame for the praiseworthy. Tushin called to account. Prince Andrei defends Tushin. A splendid tribute. Nikolai's illusion. The conjunction of forces effected.
Briggs: Retreat. Nikolay cadges a lift. Andrey defends Tushin.
Maude: Withdrawal of the forces. Nicholas rides on a gun carriage. Tushin called to account by Bagration. Prince Andrew defends him. Depression of Nicholas
Pevear and Volkhonsky: The Russian forces withdraw. Tushin summoned before Bagration. Prince Andrei defends him.
Translation:
XXI.
The wind’s mood, black clouds looming low above the place of the battle, merged on the horizon with the powder smoke. It became dark, and by that clearly showed the two places of fire glow. The cannonade had become weaker, but the rattle of the guns in the back right was heard still more often and nearer. As alone Tushin with his own guns, going around and running over to the wounded, got out from below fire and came down the ravine, he met his superiors and adjutants, in the number which still were and the staff officer and Zherkov, two times sent and and not once riding as far as to the battery of Tushin. They all, interrupting one another, gave back and delivered orders, as to where to go, and made reproaches and remarks to him. Tushin ordered nothing and silently, fearing to speak because of how in each word he was ready, himself not knowing from what, to cry, riding back on his artillery nag. Although the wounded were ordered to be thrown, much of them dragged along behind the troops and requested to be on the guns. That youngest infantry officer, which before the battle jumped out of the hut of Tushin, was, with a bullet in his belly, laid on the carriage of Matvevna. Below the mountain a pale hussar cadet, one hand supporting another, came up to Tushin and asked to sit.
— Captain, for God, I contused my arm, — he said timidly. — For God, I cannot go. For God!
It was seen that this cadet had already not one time requested somewhere to sit and everywhere was failing. He requested in an indecisive and miserable voice.
— Order me to be put, for God.
— Plant yourself, plant, — said Tushin. — Put your overcoat, uncle, — he turned to his beloved soldier. — But where is the wounded officer?
— Packed up, run out and is over, — replied someone.
— Plant yourself. Sit down, sweet, sit down. Bedding overcoat, Antonov.
The cadet was Rostov. He held one hand with another, was pale, and his lower jaw was shaking from a febrile tremble. He planted onto Matvevna, on that very gun from which the dead officer had been folded up. On the laying greatcoats was blood, which got on the dirty leggings and hand of Rostov.
— What, are you wounded, darling? — said Tushin, coming up to gun on which sat Rostov.
— No, contused.
— From what is their already blood on that bed? — asked Tushin.
— This is the officer, your nobleness, that was bloodied, — was the response of the artillery soldier, wiping blood from the sleeve of the greatcoats as if in excuse for the impurity in which the gun was found.
Forcibly, with the help of the infantry, the taken out guns from the mountain reached the village of Guntersdorf, and stopped. It had become already so dark that at ten steps it could not be discerned the uniforms of the soldiers, and the skirmish began to subside. Suddenly close from the right parties were heard again shouting and firing. Shots now glistened in the dark. This was the last attack of the French, to which answered the soldiers seated in the houses of the village. Again all threw off from the village, but the guns of Tushin could not move, and the artillerists, Tushin and the cadet, silently looked at each other, expecting their fate. The skirmish had begun to subside, and from the side of the streets poured out lively speaking soldiers.
— Intact, Petrov? — asked one.
— Assigned, brother, the heat. Now not turned up, — spoke another.
— See nothing. As they are something cooked! Could not see; it’s dark, brothers. Whether or not drunk?
The French for the last time were repulsed. And again, in perfect darkness, the guns of Tushin, as a frame surrounded by buzzing infantry, moved somewhat forward.
In the dark as if flowed an invisible, gloomy river, all in the same direction, a buzzing whisper, speaking with the sounds of hooves and wheels. In the overall buzz from behind all the other noises more clear than all were the moans and voices of the wounded in a gloomy night. Their moans, it seemed, filled itself with all this gloom, surrounded by troops. Their moans and gloom of this night — this was one and the same. Across some time in a moving crowd an excitement happened. Someone drove through with a retinue on white horses and said something while driving.
— What was said? What now? Stand, how so? If that thanked us? — was heard in the greedy interrogations with all parties, and all of the moving mass began to push itself to itself (it was seen that the front stopped), and hearing a flash that they were ordered to stay. All stopped as they went on the middle of the dirty roads.
Lights lit up, and the dialect became more audible. Captain Tushin, disposing from the company, sent one of the soldiers to look for a dressing point or a healer for the cadet and sat down at the fire, decomposed on the road by soldiers. Rostov dragged too to the fire. The febrile shiver of pain, cold and dampness shook all of his body. Sleep irresistibly drove him, but he could not fall asleep from the painful ache at the whining and unfound situation of his hand. He closed his eyes, looking at the fire that seemed to him hotly red, at which stooped the weak figure of Tushin, sitting beside him Turkish. The large, kind and smart eyes of Tushin from empathy and compassion rushed onto him. He saw that Tushin’s whole soul wanted and could do nothing to help him.
With all parties were heard the steps and the passing dialect, passing around the housed infantry. The sounds of voices, steps and rearranged in the mud horse hooves, both near and further crackled firewood blending into one hesitant rumble.
Now already did not flow, as before, the gloom of the invisible river, but as if after a storm packed up and trembled a dark sea. Rostov pointlessly watched and listened to what was happening before him and around him. An infantry soldier came up to bonfire, sat down in a squat, stuck his hand at the fire and turned away his face.
— Nothing, your nobleness? — he said, interrogatively turning to Tushin. — Here fought back from the company, your nobleness; myself not knowing where I. Trouble!
Together with the soldier that came up to the bonfire, an infantry officer with a tied cheek turned to Tushin, requesting him to order to move the little gun, so to carry him in the wagon. Behind the company commander came running to the bonfire two soldiers. They frantically swore and fought, pulling out each of their boots.
— How the same, you raised! See, dexterity! — shouted one hoarse voice.
Then came up a lean, pale soldier with his neck tied with bloodied undercoat, and in an angry voice demanding water from the artillerists.
— What, are we to die as if a dog? — he said.
Tushin said to give him water. Then ran up a merry soldier, asking for fire for the infantry.
— The fire is hot in the infantry! Happily stay, countrymen, thanks for the fire, we will give it back with a percent, — he spoke, taking away somewhere in the darkness that blazing firebrand.
Behind this soldier was four soldiers, carrying something heavy in greatcoats, passing by the bonfire. One of them stumbled.
— See, hell, in the road firewood is placed, —he grunted.
— Run out and over, what the same to him to carry? — said one of them.
— Well, you!
And they hid in the gloom with their burden.
— What? Ache? — asked Tushin in a whisper to Rostov.
— Ache.
— Your nobleness, to the general. Here staying in the hut, — said a fireworker, coming up to Tushin.
— Now, darling.
Tushin got up and, buttoning his overcoat and recovering, walked away from the bonfire...
Near from the bonfire of the artillerists, in a prepared for him hut, sat Prince Bagration behind a dinner, talking with some chiefs gathered around him. Here was an old man with half-closed eyes, greedily gnawing a lamb bone, the for twenty-two years impeccable general, flushed from glasses of vodka and dinner, the staff officer with the ring, Zherkov, anxiously looking around all, and Prince Andrey, pale, with tightened lips and feverish brilliant eyes.
In the hut stood leaning in the corner a taken French flag, and the auditor with a naive face felt the cloth and, perplexed, rocked his head, maybe because of how he in most cases was interested in viewing this, but maybe because of how he was heavily hungry looking at the dinner, for which he did not get to participate in. In the neighboring hut was found a taken in captivity dragoon French colonel. About him crowded, looking at him, our officers. Prince Bagration thanked individual chiefs and asked about the details of the affairs and about losses. The regimental commander, presented below Braunau, reported to the prince that as the business had only started, he stepped back from the forest, collected the woodcutters and, skipping past them himself, with two battalions stroked at bayonets and knocked over the French.
— As I saw, your excellency, that the first battalion was disturbed, I began on the road and thought: “I will miss these and meet them with a battle of fire”; and so did.
The regimental commander so wanted to do this, he was so pitied that he did not have time to do this, that to him it seemed that all this was exactly so. Yes, maybe, and in most cases this was? Can one make out this confusion, what was and what was not?
— Moreover you should notice, your excellency, — he continued, remembering about the conversation of Dolohov with Kutuzov and about his last appointment with the demoted, — how the private, demoted Dolohov, in my eyes took in captivity a French officer and was especially distinguished.
— That here I saw, your excellency, the attack of the Pavlograd, — anxiously looking back, intervened Zherkov, who did not quite see on this day a hussar, but only heard about them from an infantry officer. — Crumpled two squares, your excellency.
At the words Zherkov somewhat smiled, as always for those expecting from him jokes; but, they noticed, how that what he spoke, leaned too to the glory of our weapons and the day, passed a serious expression, although many very well knew how that what was spoken by Zherkov was a lie, or at least was not established. Prince Bagration turned to the old colonel.
— Thanks to all, gentlemen, all parts acted heroically: infantry, cavalry and artillery. How were in the center left two guns? — he asked, searching for something in his eyes. (Prince Bagration did not ask about the guns of the left flank; he knew already that there in the very beginning of affairs were thrown all the guns.) — I, it seems, requested you, — he turned to the duty staff officer.
— One was lined, — was the response of the duty staff officer, — but the other, I cannot understand; I myself was there all the while and ordered only that to drive off... It was hot, really, — he added modestly.
Someone said that Captain Tushin stayed here in the village, and that for him now was he sent for.
— And here you were, — said Prince Bagration, turning to Prince Andrey.
— How again, we little not gathered together, — said the on duty staff officer, nicely smiling at Bolkonsky.
— I did not have the pleasure to see you, — cold and jerkily said Prince Andrey. All kept silent.
On the doorstep appeared Tushin, timidly making his way from behind the back of the generals. Going around the generals in the close hut, embarrassed, as always, at seeing superiors, Tushin did not consider the staff and stumbled on it. A few voices laughed.
— How were the guns left? — asked Bagration, frowning not so much at the captain as much as at the laughing, in a number which louder than all was the heard voice of Zherkov.
To Tushin now only, at seeing the formidable superiors, did all the horror present his fault and the shame in that he, staying alive, lost two guns. He was so thrilled that before these minutes he did not have time to think about this. The laugh of the officers still more knocked down him from his senses. He stood before Bagration with a trembling lower jaw and barely spoke:
— I do not know... your excellency... the people were not there, your excellency.
— You could have taken from the cover!
That the cover was not there, this was not said by Tushin, although this was really true. He was afraid to let down by this another chief and silently, stopping his eyes, watched the face of Bagration, as watches an errant student in the eye of an examiner.
The silence was quite continuous. Prince Bagration, apparently, not wishing to be strict, did not find what to say; the rest not daring to intervene in the conversation. Prince Andrey sneakily watched Tushin, and the fingers on his hands nervously moved.
— Your excellency, — interrupted Prince Andrey silently in his sharp voice, — you deigned to send me to the battery of Captain Tushin. I was there and found two thirds of the people and the horses broken, two guns warped, and no cover.
Prince Bagration and Tushin equally stubbornly looked now at the restrainedly and excitedly speaking of Bolkonsky.
— And should, your excellency, let me express my opinion, — he continued, — that for the success of the day we have acquired is only by the action of this battery and the heroic stamina of Captain Tushin with his company, — said Prince Andrey and, not expecting an answer, immediately already got up and walked away from the desk.
Prince Bagration looked at Tushin and, apparently not wishing to express distrust to the sharp judgment of Bolkonsky and, together with that, feeling himself not in the condition to quite believe him, tipped his head and said to Tushin that he may go. Prince Andrey got out behind him.
— Here thanks: bailed out, darling, — said Tushin to him.
Prince Andrey looked around Tushin and, saying nothing, walked away from him. Prince Andrey was sad and heavy. All of this was so weird, so dissimilar to that what he hoped.
————
“Who are they? What for are they? What do they need? And when will all this be finished?” thought Rostov, looking at the changing before him shadows. The pain in his hand became all the more painful. Sleep drove away irresistibly, in his eyes jumped red circles, and the impression of these voices and these persons and the sense of loneliness blended with the feeling of pain. This is they, these soldiers, wounded and unwounded, — this is they that were crushed, burdened, turned out veins, and the burned meat on his broken hand and shoulder. So to get rid of them, he closed his eyes.
He forgot in that one moment, but in this short gap of oblivion he saw in a dream a countless number of items: he saw his mother and her big white hands, saw the thin shoulders of Sonya, the eyes and laughter of Natasha, and Denisov with his voice and mustache, and Telyanin, and all of his story with Telyanin and Bogdanych. All this story was one and the same, that this soldier with the sharp voice, and all of this story and this soldier so painfully, relentlessly held, crushed and all at one side pulled his arm. He tried to be eliminated from them, but they would not let go of his hair, or secondly, his shoulder. It was not ill, it was great, should they not pull him; but he could not get rid of them.
He opened his eyes and looked up. The black canopy night in arshin hung above as light coal. In this light flew powders of fallen snow. Tushin did not return, and the healer did not come. He was alone, only with some soldier who sat now naked by another side of the fire and warmed his thin yellow body.
“I do not need anyone! —thought Rostov. — No one to help, or to pity. But all the same if I was at home, strong, merry, love”. — he sighed and with the sigh unwittingly groaned.
— Oh what aches? — asked the soldier, shaking his shirt above the fire, and, not waiting for the answer, grunting, added: — Little whether for the day spoiled people — passion!
Rostov did not listen to the soldier. He watched the fluttering above the fire snowflakes and remembered the Russian winter with the warm, bright house, fluffy fur coats, fast sleigh rides, a healthy body and all the love and care of his family. “And for what I went here!” he thought.
On the next day the French did not renew their attacks, and the remainder of Bagration’s detachment joined to the army of Kutuzov.
Time: See previous chapter and then the following day
Locations: Gunthersdorf, a house prepared for Prince Bagration
Mentioned: French, Russian
Pevear and Volkhonsky notes: Zherkov and the staff officer trip all over each other trying to give orders and tell Tushin where to go and what to do, with Tushin still on the verge of crying. The intersection of Rostov, who claims to have a bruised arm, into this story. While Tushin comes off as calm and humane in an unfeeling situation (the unloaded dead officer stands out), Rostov comes off as selfish and whiny.
Briggs: Retreat. Nikolay cadges a lift. Andrey defends Tushin.
Maude: Withdrawal of the forces. Nicholas rides on a gun carriage. Tushin called to account by Bagration. Prince Andrew defends him. Depression of Nicholas
Pevear and Volkhonsky: The Russian forces withdraw. Tushin summoned before Bagration. Prince Andrei defends him.
Translation:
XXI.
The wind’s mood, black clouds looming low above the place of the battle, merged on the horizon with the powder smoke. It became dark, and by that clearly showed the two places of fire glow. The cannonade had become weaker, but the rattle of the guns in the back right was heard still more often and nearer. As alone Tushin with his own guns, going around and running over to the wounded, got out from below fire and came down the ravine, he met his superiors and adjutants, in the number which still were and the staff officer and Zherkov, two times sent and and not once riding as far as to the battery of Tushin. They all, interrupting one another, gave back and delivered orders, as to where to go, and made reproaches and remarks to him. Tushin ordered nothing and silently, fearing to speak because of how in each word he was ready, himself not knowing from what, to cry, riding back on his artillery nag. Although the wounded were ordered to be thrown, much of them dragged along behind the troops and requested to be on the guns. That youngest infantry officer, which before the battle jumped out of the hut of Tushin, was, with a bullet in his belly, laid on the carriage of Matvevna. Below the mountain a pale hussar cadet, one hand supporting another, came up to Tushin and asked to sit.
— Captain, for God, I contused my arm, — he said timidly. — For God, I cannot go. For God!
It was seen that this cadet had already not one time requested somewhere to sit and everywhere was failing. He requested in an indecisive and miserable voice.
— Order me to be put, for God.
— Plant yourself, plant, — said Tushin. — Put your overcoat, uncle, — he turned to his beloved soldier. — But where is the wounded officer?
— Packed up, run out and is over, — replied someone.
— Plant yourself. Sit down, sweet, sit down. Bedding overcoat, Antonov.
The cadet was Rostov. He held one hand with another, was pale, and his lower jaw was shaking from a febrile tremble. He planted onto Matvevna, on that very gun from which the dead officer had been folded up. On the laying greatcoats was blood, which got on the dirty leggings and hand of Rostov.
— What, are you wounded, darling? — said Tushin, coming up to gun on which sat Rostov.
— No, contused.
— From what is their already blood on that bed? — asked Tushin.
— This is the officer, your nobleness, that was bloodied, — was the response of the artillery soldier, wiping blood from the sleeve of the greatcoats as if in excuse for the impurity in which the gun was found.
Forcibly, with the help of the infantry, the taken out guns from the mountain reached the village of Guntersdorf, and stopped. It had become already so dark that at ten steps it could not be discerned the uniforms of the soldiers, and the skirmish began to subside. Suddenly close from the right parties were heard again shouting and firing. Shots now glistened in the dark. This was the last attack of the French, to which answered the soldiers seated in the houses of the village. Again all threw off from the village, but the guns of Tushin could not move, and the artillerists, Tushin and the cadet, silently looked at each other, expecting their fate. The skirmish had begun to subside, and from the side of the streets poured out lively speaking soldiers.
— Intact, Petrov? — asked one.
— Assigned, brother, the heat. Now not turned up, — spoke another.
— See nothing. As they are something cooked! Could not see; it’s dark, brothers. Whether or not drunk?
The French for the last time were repulsed. And again, in perfect darkness, the guns of Tushin, as a frame surrounded by buzzing infantry, moved somewhat forward.
In the dark as if flowed an invisible, gloomy river, all in the same direction, a buzzing whisper, speaking with the sounds of hooves and wheels. In the overall buzz from behind all the other noises more clear than all were the moans and voices of the wounded in a gloomy night. Their moans, it seemed, filled itself with all this gloom, surrounded by troops. Their moans and gloom of this night — this was one and the same. Across some time in a moving crowd an excitement happened. Someone drove through with a retinue on white horses and said something while driving.
— What was said? What now? Stand, how so? If that thanked us? — was heard in the greedy interrogations with all parties, and all of the moving mass began to push itself to itself (it was seen that the front stopped), and hearing a flash that they were ordered to stay. All stopped as they went on the middle of the dirty roads.
Lights lit up, and the dialect became more audible. Captain Tushin, disposing from the company, sent one of the soldiers to look for a dressing point or a healer for the cadet and sat down at the fire, decomposed on the road by soldiers. Rostov dragged too to the fire. The febrile shiver of pain, cold and dampness shook all of his body. Sleep irresistibly drove him, but he could not fall asleep from the painful ache at the whining and unfound situation of his hand. He closed his eyes, looking at the fire that seemed to him hotly red, at which stooped the weak figure of Tushin, sitting beside him Turkish. The large, kind and smart eyes of Tushin from empathy and compassion rushed onto him. He saw that Tushin’s whole soul wanted and could do nothing to help him.
With all parties were heard the steps and the passing dialect, passing around the housed infantry. The sounds of voices, steps and rearranged in the mud horse hooves, both near and further crackled firewood blending into one hesitant rumble.
Now already did not flow, as before, the gloom of the invisible river, but as if after a storm packed up and trembled a dark sea. Rostov pointlessly watched and listened to what was happening before him and around him. An infantry soldier came up to bonfire, sat down in a squat, stuck his hand at the fire and turned away his face.
— Nothing, your nobleness? — he said, interrogatively turning to Tushin. — Here fought back from the company, your nobleness; myself not knowing where I. Trouble!
Together with the soldier that came up to the bonfire, an infantry officer with a tied cheek turned to Tushin, requesting him to order to move the little gun, so to carry him in the wagon. Behind the company commander came running to the bonfire two soldiers. They frantically swore and fought, pulling out each of their boots.
— How the same, you raised! See, dexterity! — shouted one hoarse voice.
Then came up a lean, pale soldier with his neck tied with bloodied undercoat, and in an angry voice demanding water from the artillerists.
— What, are we to die as if a dog? — he said.
Tushin said to give him water. Then ran up a merry soldier, asking for fire for the infantry.
— The fire is hot in the infantry! Happily stay, countrymen, thanks for the fire, we will give it back with a percent, — he spoke, taking away somewhere in the darkness that blazing firebrand.
Behind this soldier was four soldiers, carrying something heavy in greatcoats, passing by the bonfire. One of them stumbled.
— See, hell, in the road firewood is placed, —he grunted.
— Run out and over, what the same to him to carry? — said one of them.
— Well, you!
And they hid in the gloom with their burden.
— What? Ache? — asked Tushin in a whisper to Rostov.
— Ache.
— Your nobleness, to the general. Here staying in the hut, — said a fireworker, coming up to Tushin.
— Now, darling.
Tushin got up and, buttoning his overcoat and recovering, walked away from the bonfire...
Near from the bonfire of the artillerists, in a prepared for him hut, sat Prince Bagration behind a dinner, talking with some chiefs gathered around him. Here was an old man with half-closed eyes, greedily gnawing a lamb bone, the for twenty-two years impeccable general, flushed from glasses of vodka and dinner, the staff officer with the ring, Zherkov, anxiously looking around all, and Prince Andrey, pale, with tightened lips and feverish brilliant eyes.
In the hut stood leaning in the corner a taken French flag, and the auditor with a naive face felt the cloth and, perplexed, rocked his head, maybe because of how he in most cases was interested in viewing this, but maybe because of how he was heavily hungry looking at the dinner, for which he did not get to participate in. In the neighboring hut was found a taken in captivity dragoon French colonel. About him crowded, looking at him, our officers. Prince Bagration thanked individual chiefs and asked about the details of the affairs and about losses. The regimental commander, presented below Braunau, reported to the prince that as the business had only started, he stepped back from the forest, collected the woodcutters and, skipping past them himself, with two battalions stroked at bayonets and knocked over the French.
— As I saw, your excellency, that the first battalion was disturbed, I began on the road and thought: “I will miss these and meet them with a battle of fire”; and so did.
The regimental commander so wanted to do this, he was so pitied that he did not have time to do this, that to him it seemed that all this was exactly so. Yes, maybe, and in most cases this was? Can one make out this confusion, what was and what was not?
— Moreover you should notice, your excellency, — he continued, remembering about the conversation of Dolohov with Kutuzov and about his last appointment with the demoted, — how the private, demoted Dolohov, in my eyes took in captivity a French officer and was especially distinguished.
— That here I saw, your excellency, the attack of the Pavlograd, — anxiously looking back, intervened Zherkov, who did not quite see on this day a hussar, but only heard about them from an infantry officer. — Crumpled two squares, your excellency.
At the words Zherkov somewhat smiled, as always for those expecting from him jokes; but, they noticed, how that what he spoke, leaned too to the glory of our weapons and the day, passed a serious expression, although many very well knew how that what was spoken by Zherkov was a lie, or at least was not established. Prince Bagration turned to the old colonel.
— Thanks to all, gentlemen, all parts acted heroically: infantry, cavalry and artillery. How were in the center left two guns? — he asked, searching for something in his eyes. (Prince Bagration did not ask about the guns of the left flank; he knew already that there in the very beginning of affairs were thrown all the guns.) — I, it seems, requested you, — he turned to the duty staff officer.
— One was lined, — was the response of the duty staff officer, — but the other, I cannot understand; I myself was there all the while and ordered only that to drive off... It was hot, really, — he added modestly.
Someone said that Captain Tushin stayed here in the village, and that for him now was he sent for.
— And here you were, — said Prince Bagration, turning to Prince Andrey.
— How again, we little not gathered together, — said the on duty staff officer, nicely smiling at Bolkonsky.
— I did not have the pleasure to see you, — cold and jerkily said Prince Andrey. All kept silent.
On the doorstep appeared Tushin, timidly making his way from behind the back of the generals. Going around the generals in the close hut, embarrassed, as always, at seeing superiors, Tushin did not consider the staff and stumbled on it. A few voices laughed.
— How were the guns left? — asked Bagration, frowning not so much at the captain as much as at the laughing, in a number which louder than all was the heard voice of Zherkov.
To Tushin now only, at seeing the formidable superiors, did all the horror present his fault and the shame in that he, staying alive, lost two guns. He was so thrilled that before these minutes he did not have time to think about this. The laugh of the officers still more knocked down him from his senses. He stood before Bagration with a trembling lower jaw and barely spoke:
— I do not know... your excellency... the people were not there, your excellency.
— You could have taken from the cover!
That the cover was not there, this was not said by Tushin, although this was really true. He was afraid to let down by this another chief and silently, stopping his eyes, watched the face of Bagration, as watches an errant student in the eye of an examiner.
The silence was quite continuous. Prince Bagration, apparently, not wishing to be strict, did not find what to say; the rest not daring to intervene in the conversation. Prince Andrey sneakily watched Tushin, and the fingers on his hands nervously moved.
— Your excellency, — interrupted Prince Andrey silently in his sharp voice, — you deigned to send me to the battery of Captain Tushin. I was there and found two thirds of the people and the horses broken, two guns warped, and no cover.
Prince Bagration and Tushin equally stubbornly looked now at the restrainedly and excitedly speaking of Bolkonsky.
— And should, your excellency, let me express my opinion, — he continued, — that for the success of the day we have acquired is only by the action of this battery and the heroic stamina of Captain Tushin with his company, — said Prince Andrey and, not expecting an answer, immediately already got up and walked away from the desk.
Prince Bagration looked at Tushin and, apparently not wishing to express distrust to the sharp judgment of Bolkonsky and, together with that, feeling himself not in the condition to quite believe him, tipped his head and said to Tushin that he may go. Prince Andrey got out behind him.
— Here thanks: bailed out, darling, — said Tushin to him.
Prince Andrey looked around Tushin and, saying nothing, walked away from him. Prince Andrey was sad and heavy. All of this was so weird, so dissimilar to that what he hoped.
————
“Who are they? What for are they? What do they need? And when will all this be finished?” thought Rostov, looking at the changing before him shadows. The pain in his hand became all the more painful. Sleep drove away irresistibly, in his eyes jumped red circles, and the impression of these voices and these persons and the sense of loneliness blended with the feeling of pain. This is they, these soldiers, wounded and unwounded, — this is they that were crushed, burdened, turned out veins, and the burned meat on his broken hand and shoulder. So to get rid of them, he closed his eyes.
He forgot in that one moment, but in this short gap of oblivion he saw in a dream a countless number of items: he saw his mother and her big white hands, saw the thin shoulders of Sonya, the eyes and laughter of Natasha, and Denisov with his voice and mustache, and Telyanin, and all of his story with Telyanin and Bogdanych. All this story was one and the same, that this soldier with the sharp voice, and all of this story and this soldier so painfully, relentlessly held, crushed and all at one side pulled his arm. He tried to be eliminated from them, but they would not let go of his hair, or secondly, his shoulder. It was not ill, it was great, should they not pull him; but he could not get rid of them.
He opened his eyes and looked up. The black canopy night in arshin hung above as light coal. In this light flew powders of fallen snow. Tushin did not return, and the healer did not come. He was alone, only with some soldier who sat now naked by another side of the fire and warmed his thin yellow body.
“I do not need anyone! —thought Rostov. — No one to help, or to pity. But all the same if I was at home, strong, merry, love”. — he sighed and with the sigh unwittingly groaned.
— Oh what aches? — asked the soldier, shaking his shirt above the fire, and, not waiting for the answer, grunting, added: — Little whether for the day spoiled people — passion!
Rostov did not listen to the soldier. He watched the fluttering above the fire snowflakes and remembered the Russian winter with the warm, bright house, fluffy fur coats, fast sleigh rides, a healthy body and all the love and care of his family. “And for what I went here!” he thought.
On the next day the French did not renew their attacks, and the remainder of Bagration’s detachment joined to the army of Kutuzov.
Time: See previous chapter and then the following day
Locations: Gunthersdorf, a house prepared for Prince Bagration
Mentioned: French, Russian
Pevear and Volkhonsky notes: Zherkov and the staff officer trip all over each other trying to give orders and tell Tushin where to go and what to do, with Tushin still on the verge of crying. The intersection of Rostov, who claims to have a bruised arm, into this story. While Tushin comes off as calm and humane in an unfeeling situation (the unloaded dead officer stands out), Rostov comes off as selfish and whiny.
Real emphasis on the literal darkness at both the beginning of the chapter and then after Tushin speaks to Rostov. When the battle continues around them, they can only sit silently, “awaiting their fate”
“It was as if an invisible, gloomy river were flowing in the darkness, all in one direction, with a hum of whispers, talk, and the sounds of hooves and wheels.”
Emphasis on the groans in the night. An officer says something, which confuses the regular soldiers because they don’t know what he said. Again sort of an emphasis on Tushin as a father figure, this time to Rostov. Other soldiers
come and have wildly different reactions and personalities. They are a part of the sea, but they are all different.
come and have wildly different reactions and personalities. They are a part of the sea, but they are all different.
An ellipsis follows Tushin getting up and leaving the campfire, leading into Prince Bagration at a nearby cottage, which provides a contrast and brings us to the Prince Andrei portion.
Captured French standard and colonel versus “our officers clustered”
The regimental commander tells a lie about what happened, instead telling what he wished had happened. “And perhaps it really was so? As if one could make out in that confusion what was and was not so?”
Zherkov also tells lies, or at least reports a rumor as something he had indeed seen. Some expect him to joke, but he is serious, even though those around him know it to be a lie.
The humiliation of Tushin and Prince Andrei’s saving of him. Of course, Tushin trips and is laughed at. Tushin in his reporting, feels the twinge of duty, not reporting there were no other troops, wishing he had died rather than
leaving the guns. Andrei’s “agitation” is the same word used to describe how Tushin had felt, what had caused him to forget that he should have felt that he should have died rather than leaving the cannons. Line break after “Prince
Andrei felt sad and downhearted. All this was so strange, so unlike what he had hoped for.”
leaving the guns. Andrei’s “agitation” is the same word used to describe how Tushin had felt, what had caused him to forget that he should have felt that he should have died rather than leaving the cannons. Line break after “Prince
Andrei felt sad and downhearted. All this was so strange, so unlike what he had hoped for.”
Switch back to Rostov who goes to sleep to close himself from “the shifting shadows” and dreams about his family, friends, and then his conflict with Telyanin.
““Nobody needs me!” thought Rostov. “There’s nobody to help me or pity me. And once I was at home, strong, cheerful, loved.””
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 *):
Captain Tushin
The officer of the day (again “staff officer”, reminder of ring near the end of the chapter)
Zherkof
Infantry Officer (the one connected to Tushin. He dies)
Rostof (introduced in the chapter as “a pale yunker of hussars” in Dole)
Gunner Number One (here “his favourite gunner” as in Dole. He should probably be understood as “Antonof” rather than the “some one” who replies. “Antonow” in Bell. “Antonov” in Maude, Briggs, and Garnett. Established as his
favorite in previous chapter.)
favorite in previous chapter.)
Prince Bagration
The regimental commander (“general of twenty-two years’ blameless service”)
Prince Andrei Bolkonsky
The auditor
Captured colonel of dragoons (as in Dole. “French colonel” in Maude, Garnett, and Briggs)
Dolokhof (and the french officer prisoner that I didn’t count as a character before)
Kutuzof
Sonya
Natasha
Denisof
Telyanin
Bogdanuitch
Of course many undifferentiated soldiers. Some notable ones include: a gunner that replies to Tushin. “Petrof” as in Dole. “Petrov” in Dunnigan, Edmonds, and Mandelker. He talks to another soldier. “Some one...from headquarters”,
a soldier who lost his company, an infantry officer or company commander (Dole uses both) with a bandaged cheek, two fighting soldiers, a soldier who asks for a drink of water, a “jolly soldier” who asks for fire, a soldier who trips
over the firewood, possibly another gunner that tells Tushin the general wants him, and the little soldier who strips in front of the fire and talks to Rostov at the end of the chapter. Confusion somewhat reigns when we get back to
Bagration’s suite, as we get “the little old man”, who Bell calls “the old sleepy-eyed colonel” (which colonel, I have no idea), “old man” in Wiener.
a soldier who lost his company, an infantry officer or company commander (Dole uses both) with a bandaged cheek, two fighting soldiers, a soldier who asks for a drink of water, a “jolly soldier” who asks for fire, a soldier who trips
over the firewood, possibly another gunner that tells Tushin the general wants him, and the little soldier who strips in front of the fire and talks to Rostov at the end of the chapter. Confusion somewhat reigns when we get back to
Bagration’s suite, as we get “the little old man”, who Bell calls “the old sleepy-eyed colonel” (which colonel, I have no idea), “old man” in Wiener.
Abridged Versions: End of Part 2 for Pevear and Volkhonsky and Dole, who seems to be alone in having a line break before the last paragraph, starting with “on the following day.” Dole also has a line break instead of an ellipsis
after Tushin gets up and leaves the fire.
after Tushin gets up and leaves the fire.
Bell: no break or ellipsis after Tushin gets up and leaves the fire, or before final paragraph of chapter. This chapter ends volume 1 for Bell.
Wiener: no break for after Tushin gets up. End of Part 2
Maude: no break after Tushin gets up. End of book 2.
Garnett: no break after Tushin gets up. Doesn’t seem to be a break after the end of the Andrei plotline, though it is at the end of a page. End of part 2.
Briggs: no break after Tushin gets up. End of part 2.
Dunnigan: no break after Tushin gets up. End of part 2.
Edmonds: no break after Tushin gets up. End of part 2.
Mandelker: no break after Tushin gets up. End of part 2.
Gibian: Chapter 16: line break after "so unlike what he had hoped." End of Book Two.
Gibian: Chapter 16: line break after "so unlike what he had hoped." End of Book Two.
Fuller: No line break after Tushin gets up. Everything else the same. End of Part 2.
Komroff: The conversation including Petrof is removed. A line break after Rostov answers Tushin as to whether his arm aches and before Tushin leaves the fire. Other than a few sentences of description in the first half of the
chapter, the rest of the chapter is preserved. The French colonel and auditor are cut though. End of Book 2.
chapter, the rest of the chapter is preserved. The French colonel and auditor are cut though. End of Book 2.
Kropotkin: Chapter 11: Tushin and Rostov’s section at the end of the first section before the first line break is cut, no line break going into the Prince Bagration section. The French standard, colonel, and the auditor are cut.
Rostof’s thoughts at the end of the chapter are less personal in that they don’t mention Sonya, Natasha, etc. The little stripped soldier is gone too. Follows Dole’s line breaks. End of Part Second.
Rostof’s thoughts at the end of the chapter are less personal in that they don’t mention Sonya, Natasha, etc. The little stripped soldier is gone too. Follows Dole’s line breaks. End of Part Second.
Bromfield: Chapter 23: The infantry officer that dies is again tied to Circassian women conversation. There are more soldiers that come by the fire and have conversations and tell short stories. Dolokhov appears and is one
of them. He has a short argument with someone about where he is supposed to march. Chapter ends after the defense of Tushin by Andrei. Chapter 24: Rostov section is the same but there is an addition to the ending of the
chapter: “Two days later Prince Anatoly Kuragin, Buxhowden’s adjutant, rode to Kutuzov with the news that the army coming from Russia was one day’s march away. The armies united.”
of them. He has a short argument with someone about where he is supposed to march. Chapter ends after the defense of Tushin by Andrei. Chapter 24: Rostov section is the same but there is an addition to the ending of the
chapter: “Two days later Prince Anatoly Kuragin, Buxhowden’s adjutant, rode to Kutuzov with the news that the army coming from Russia was one day’s march away. The armies united.”
Kutuzov’s retreat, despite the loss of the Vienna bridge, and this final battle at Schongraben in particular, amazed not only the Russians and the French, but even the Austrians. They called Bagration’s detachment “an
army of heroes”, and Bagration and his detachment were awarded great honours by the Austrians and the Russian Emperor, who arrived in Olmutz soon afterwards.”
army of heroes”, and Bagration and his detachment were awarded great honours by the Austrians and the Russian Emperor, who arrived in Olmutz soon afterwards.”
End of Part 2
Simmons: Chapter 16: Chapter is preserved. End of Book Two.
Simmons: Chapter 16: Chapter is preserved. End of Book Two.
Additional Notes:
Anna Karenina (Garnett/Kent/Berberova/Merezhkovsky): He deals with the most ordinary aspects of war...There is movement and smoke and noise, the false courage of impotent officers who bark meaningless and unheard orders...
Turgenev read War and Peace and was stunned by its 125 scenes, its 559 characters, and its more than half million words...War and Peace is essentially about people who insist upon seeking happiness and peace despite war that
uproots the living and makes even modest dreams seem quixotic. War is the flame to which all are exposed; it consumes some, chastens and purifies others; it is an irrational curse that will be survived. The novel functions on three
major levels, the national, the family, the individual, and we can isolate some of Tolstoy’s major themes: great men are expendable; not necessary to history, they merely lead the mass in its inevitable and irrational movement. History
consists of this movement and it cannot be explained by ideas (there is no concluison as to what does move history). It is the morale of the ordinary soldier, his soil-born spirit, that determines his conduct in battle, and it follows that
the best general is he who does nothing. Further, Tolstoy rejects the economic, the geographical, and the spiritual; rather, there is a general zoological law that moves men...
Furbank: Vii: “the Tolstoy of this period is determined, for profound reasons, to do without ‘plot’. The Raid has shape, through and through, just as War and Peace has, but in both there is a refusal of contrivance. Nothing is ‘planted’
for later use; there is no suspense; the reader is stationed squarely in a moment, or a succession of moments, with no more power to see round and beyond it than the characters.”
Troyat/Amphoux: Page 316: The monarchists heaped abuse on tolstoy's head because he had flaunted national values, and the liberals wanted to send him to the stake because he had flaunted the people. In the progressive paper
The Affair, Bervi stated that for Tolstoy, "honor and elegance exist only among the richa nd famous," that that all the characters in the novel were "base"' that Prince Andrey, for one, was nothing but a "dirty, vulgar, unfeeling
automaton," that the author "let no opportunity pass to glorify passion, vulgarity and inanity,"
Anna Karenina (Garnett/Kent/Berberova/Merezhkovsky): He deals with the most ordinary aspects of war...There is movement and smoke and noise, the false courage of impotent officers who bark meaningless and unheard orders...
Turgenev read War and Peace and was stunned by its 125 scenes, its 559 characters, and its more than half million words...War and Peace is essentially about people who insist upon seeking happiness and peace despite war that
uproots the living and makes even modest dreams seem quixotic. War is the flame to which all are exposed; it consumes some, chastens and purifies others; it is an irrational curse that will be survived. The novel functions on three
major levels, the national, the family, the individual, and we can isolate some of Tolstoy’s major themes: great men are expendable; not necessary to history, they merely lead the mass in its inevitable and irrational movement. History
consists of this movement and it cannot be explained by ideas (there is no concluison as to what does move history). It is the morale of the ordinary soldier, his soil-born spirit, that determines his conduct in battle, and it follows that
the best general is he who does nothing. Further, Tolstoy rejects the economic, the geographical, and the spiritual; rather, there is a general zoological law that moves men...
Furbank: Vii: “the Tolstoy of this period is determined, for profound reasons, to do without ‘plot’. The Raid has shape, through and through, just as War and Peace has, but in both there is a refusal of contrivance. Nothing is ‘planted’
for later use; there is no suspense; the reader is stationed squarely in a moment, or a succession of moments, with no more power to see round and beyond it than the characters.”
Troyat/Amphoux: Page 316: The monarchists heaped abuse on tolstoy's head because he had flaunted national values, and the liberals wanted to send him to the stake because he had flaunted the people. In the progressive paper
The Affair, Bervi stated that for Tolstoy, "honor and elegance exist only among the richa nd famous," that that all the characters in the novel were "base"' that Prince Andrey, for one, was nothing but a "dirty, vulgar, unfeeling
automaton," that the author "let no opportunity pass to glorify passion, vulgarity and inanity,"
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