Book Three: 1805 - Chapter XVII

by Leo Tolstoy

　　On our right flank commanded by Bagration, at nine o'clock thebattle had not yet begun. Not wishing to agree to Dolgorukov'sdemand to commence the action, and wishing to avert responsibilityfrom himself, Prince Bagration proposed to Dolgorukov to send toinquire of the commander in chief. Bagration knew that as the distancebetween the two flanks was more than six miles, even if themessenger were not killed (which he very likely would be), and foundthe commander in chief (which would be very difficult), he would notbe able to get back before evening.

　　Bagration cast his large, expressionless, sleepy eyes round hissuite, and the boyish face Rostov, breathless with excitement andhope, was the first to catch his eye. He sent him.

　　"And if I should meet His Majesty before I meet the commander inchief, your excellency?" said Rostov, with his hand to his cap.

　　"You can give the message to His Majesty," said Dolgorukov,hurriedly interrupting Bagration.

　　On being relieved from picket duty Rostov had managed to get a fewhours' sleep before morning and felt cheerful, bold, and resolute,with elasticity of movement, faith in his good fortune, andgenerally in that state of mind which makes everything seempossible, pleasant, and easy.

　　All his wishes were being fulfilled that morning: there was to bea general engagement in which he was taking part, more than that, hewas orderly to the bravest general, and still more, he was goingwith a message to Kutuzov, perhaps even to the sovereign himself.The morning was bright, he had a good horse under him, and his heartwas full of joy and happiness. On receiving the order he gave hishorse the rein and galloped along the line. At first he rode along theline of Bagration's troops, which had not yet advanced into action butwere standing motionless; then he came to the region occupied byUvarov's cavalry and here he noticed a stir and signs of preparationfor battle; having passed Uvarov's cavalry he clearly heard thesound of cannon and musketry ahead of him. The firing grew louderand louder.

　　In the fresh morning air were now heard, not two or three musketshots at irregular intervals as before, followed by one or twocannon shots, but a roll of volleys of musketry from the slopes of thehill before Pratzen, interrupted by such frequent reports of cannonthat sometimes several of them were not separated from one another butmerged into a general roar.

　　He could see puffs of musketry smoke that seemed to chase oneanother down the hillsides, and clouds of cannon smoke rolling,spreading, and mingling with one another. He could also, by thegleam of bayonets visible through the smoke, make out moving masses ofinfantry and narrow lines of artillery with green caissons.

　　Rostov stopped his horse for a moment on a hillock to see what wasgoing on, but strain his attention as he would he could not understandor make out anything of what was happening: there in the smoke menof some sort were moving about, in front and behind moved lines oftroops; but why, whither, and who they were, it was impossible to makeout. These sights and sounds had no depressing or intimidatingeffect on him; on the contrary, they stimulated his energy anddetermination.

　　"Go on! Go on! Give it them!" he mentally exclaimed at these sounds,and again proceeded to gallop along the line, penetrating fartherand farther into the region where the army was already in action.

　　"How it will be there I don't know, but all will be well!" thoughtRostov.

　　After passing some Austrian troops he noticed that the next partof the line (the Guards) was already in action.

　　"So much the better! I shall see it close," he thought.

　　He was riding almost along the front line. A handful of men camegalloping toward him. They were our Uhlans who with disordered rankswere returning from the attack. Rostov got out of their way,involuntarily noticed that one of them was bleeding, and galloped on.

　　"That is no business of mine," he thought. He had not ridden manyhundred yards after that before he saw to his left, across the wholewidth of the field, an enormous mass of cavalry in brilliant whiteuniforms, mounted on black horses, trotting straight toward him andacross his path. Rostov put his horse to full gallop to get out of theway of these men, and he would have got clear had they continued atthe same speed, but they kept increasing their pace, so that some ofthe horses were already galloping. Rostov heard the thud of theirhoofs and the jingle of their weapons and saw their horses, theirfigures, and even their faces, more and more distinctly. They were ourHorse Guards, advancing to attack the French cavalry that was comingto meet them.

　　The Horse Guards were galloping, but still holding in theirhorses. Rostov could already see their faces and heard the command:"Charge!" shouted by an officer who was urging his thoroughbred tofull speed. Rostov, fearing to be crushed or swept into the attackon the French, galloped along the front as hard as his horse could go,but still was not in time to avoid them.

　　The last of the Horse Guards, a huge pockmarked fellow, frownedangrily on seeing Rostov before him, with whom he would inevitablycollide. This Guardsman would certainly have bowled Rostov and hisBedouin over (Rostov felt himself quite tiny and weak compared tothese gigantic men and horses) had it not occurred to Rostov toflourish his whip before the eyes of the Guardsman's horse. Theheavy black horse, sixteen hands high, shied, throwing back itsears; but the pockmarked Guardsman drove his huge spurs inviolently, and the horse, flourishing its tail and extending its neck,galloped on yet faster. Hardly had the Horse Guards passed Rostovbefore he heard them shout, "Hurrah!" and looking back saw thattheir foremost ranks were mixed up with some foreign cavalry withred epaulets, probably French. He could see nothing more, forimmediately afterwards cannon began firing from somewhere and smokeenveloped everything.

　　At that moment, as the Horse Guards, having passed him,disappeared in the smoke, Rostov hesitated whether to gallop afterthem or to go where he was sent. This was the brilliant charge ofthe Horse Guards that amazed the French themselves. Rostov washorrified to hear later that of all that mass of huge and handsomemen, of all those brilliant, rich youths, officers and cadets, who hadgalloped past him on their thousand-ruble horses, only eighteen wereleft after the charge.

　　"Why should I envy them? My chance is not lost, and maybe I shallsee the Emperor immediately! " thought Rostov and galloped on.

　　When he came level with the Foot Guards he noticed that about themand around them cannon balls were flying, of which he was aware not somuch because he heard their sound as because he saw uneasiness onthe soldiers' faces and unnatural warlike solemnity on those of theofficers.

　　Passing behind one of the lines of a regiment of Foot Guards heheard a voice calling him by name.

　　"Rostov!"

　　"What?" he answered, not recognizing Boris.

　　"I say, we've been in the front line! Our regiment attacked!" saidBoris with the happy smile seen on the faces of young men who havebeen under fire for the first time.

　　Rostov stopped.

　　"Have you?" he said. "Well, how did it go?"

　　"We drove them back!" said Boris with animation, growingtalkative. "Can you imagine it?" and he began describing how theGuards, having taken up their position and seeing troops beforethem, thought they were Austrians, and all at once discovered from thecannon balls discharged by those troops that they were themselves inthe front line and had unexpectedly to go into action. Rostovwithout hearing Boris to the end spurred his horse.

　　"Where are you off to?" asked Boris.

　　"With a message to His Majesty."

　　"There he is!" said Boris, thinking Rostov had said "HisHighness," and pointing to the Grand Duke who with his highshoulders and frowning brows stood a hundred paces away from them inhis helmet and Horse Guards' jacket, shouting something to a pale,white uniformed Austrian officer.

　　"But that's the Grand Duke, and I want the commander in chief or theEmperor," said Rostov, and was about to spur his horse.

　　"Count! Count!" shouted Berg who ran up from the other side as eageras Boris. "Count! I am wounded in my right hand" (and he showed hisbleeding hand with a handkerchief tied round it) "and I remained atthe front. I held my sword in my left hand, Count. All our family- thevon Bergs- have been knights!"

　　He said something more, but Rostov did not wait to hear it androde away.

　　Having passed the Guards and traversed an empty space, Rostov, toavoid again getting in front of the first line as he had done when theHorse Guards charged, followed the line of reserves, going far roundthe place where the hottest musket fire and cannonade were heard.Suddenly he heard musket fire quite close in front of him and behindour troops, where he could never have expected the enemy to be.

　　"What can it be?" he thought. "The enemy in the rear of our army?Impossible!" And suddenly he was seized by a panic of fear for himselfand for the issue of the whole battle. "But be that what it may," hereflected, "there is no riding round it now. I must look for thecommander in chief here, and if all is lost it is for me to perishwith the rest."

　　The foreboding of evil that had suddenly come over Rostov was moreand more confirmed the farther he rode into the region behind thevillage of Pratzen, which was full of troops of all kinds.

　　"What does it mean? What is it? Whom are they firing at? Who isfiring?" Rostov kept asking as he came up to Russian and Austriansoldiers running in confused crowds across his path.

　　"The devil knows! They've killed everybody! It's all up now!" he wastold in Russian, German, and Czech by the crowd of fugitives whounderstood what was happening as little as he did.

　　"Kill the Germans!" shouted one.

　　"May the devil take them- the traitors!"

　　"Zum Henker diese Russen!"* muttered a German.

　　*"Hang these Russians!"

　　Several wounded men passed along the road, and words of abuse,screams, and groans mingled in a general hubbub, then the firingdied down. Rostov learned later that Russian and Austrian soldiers hadbeen firing at one another.

　　"My God! What does it all mean?" thought he. "And here, where at anymoment the Emperor may see them.... But no, these must be only ahandful of scoundrels. It will soon be over, it can't be that, itcan't be! Only to get past them quicker, quicker!"

　　The idea of defeat and flight could not enter Rostov's head.Though he saw French cannon and French troops on the Pratzen Heightsjust where he had been ordered to look for the commander in chief,he could not, did not wish to, believe that.