Book Twelve: 1812 - Chapter XI

by Leo Tolstoy

　　From Prince Shcherbatov's house the prisoners were led straight downthe Virgin's Field, to the left of the nunnery, as far as a kitchengarden in which a post had been set up. Beyond that post a fresh pithad been dug in the ground, and near the post and the pit a largecrowd stood in a semicircle. The crowd consisted of a few Russians andmany of Napoleon's soldiers who were not on duty- Germans, Italians,and Frenchmen, in a variety of uniforms. To the right and left ofthe post stood rows of French troops in blue uniforms with redepaulets and high boots and shakos.

　　The prisoners were placed in a certain order, according to thelist (Pierre was sixth), and were led to the post. Several drumssuddenly began to beat on both sides of them, and at that sound Pierrefelt as if part of his soul had been torn away. He lost the power ofthinking or understanding. He could only hear and see. And he had onlyone wish- that the frightful thing that had to happen should happenquickly. Pierre looked round at his fellow prisoners and scrutinizedthem.

　　The two first were convicts with shaven heads. One was tall andthin, the other dark, shaggy, and sinewy, with a flat nose. Thethird was a domestic serf, about forty-five years old, with grizzledhair and a plump, well-nourished body. The fourth was a peasant, avery handsome man with a broad, light-brown beard and black eyes.The fifth was a factory hand, a thin, sallow-faced lad of eighteenin a loose coat.

　　Pierre heard the French consulting whether to shoot themseparately or two at a time. "In couples," replied the officer incommand in a calm voice. There was a stir in the ranks of the soldiersand it was evident that they were all hurrying- not as men hurry to dosomething they understand, but as people hurry to finish a necessarybut unpleasant and incomprehensible task.

　　A French official wearing a scarf came up to the right of the row ofprisoners and read out the sentence in Russian and in French.

　　Then two pairs of Frenchmen approached the criminals and at theofficer's command took the two convicts who stood first in the row.The convicts stopped when they reached the post and, while sackswere being brought, looked dumbly around as a wounded beast looks atan approaching huntsman. One crossed himself continually, the otherscratched his back and made a movement of the lips resembling a smile.With hurried hands the soldiers blindfolded them, drawing the sacksover their heads, and bound them to the post.

　　Twelve sharpshooters with muskets stepped out of the ranks with afirm regular tread and halted eight paces from the post. Pierre turnedaway to avoid seeing what was going to happen. Suddenly a crackling,rolling noise was heard which seemed to him louder than the mostterrific thunder, and he looked round. There was some smoke, and theFrenchmen were doing something near the pit, with pale faces andtrembling hands. Two more prisoners were led up. In the same way andwith similar looks, these two glanced vainly at the onlookers withonly a silent appeal for protection in their eyes, evidently unable tounderstand or believe what was going to happen to them. They could notbelieve it because they alone knew what their life meant to them,and so they neither understood nor believed that it could be takenfrom them.

　　Again Pierre did not wish to look and again turned away; but againthe sound as of a frightful explosion struck his ear, and at thesame moment he saw smoke, blood, and the pale, scared faces of theFrenchmen who were again doing something by the post, theirtrembling hands impeding one another. Pierre, breathing heavily,looked around as if asking what it meant. The same question wasexpressed in all the looks that met his.

　　On the faces of all the Russians and of the French soldiers andofficers without exception, he read the same dismay, horror, andconflict that were in his own heart. "But who, after all, is doingthis? They are all suffering as I am. Who then is it? Who?" flashedfor an instant through his mind.

　　"Sharpshooters of the 86th, forward!" shouted someone. The fifthprisoner, the one next to Pierre, was led away- alone. Pierre didnot understand that he was saved, that he and the rest had beenbrought there only to witness the execution. With ever-growing horror,and no sense of joy or relief, he gazed at what was taking place.The fifth man was the factory lad in the loose cloak. The momentthey laid hands on him he sprang aside in terror and clutched atPierre. (Pierre shuddered and shook himself free.) The lad wasunable to walk. They dragged him along, holding him up under the arms,and he screamed. When they got him to the post he grew quiet, as if hesuddenly understood something. Whether he understood that screamingwas useless or whether he thought it incredible that men should killhim, at any rate he took his stand at the post, waiting to beblindfolded like the others, and like a wounded animal looked aroundhim with glittering eyes.

　　Pierre was no longer able to turn away and close his eyes. Hiscuriosity and agitation, like that of the whole crowd, reached thehighest pitch at this fifth murder. Like the others this fifth manseemed calm; he wrapped his loose cloak closer and rubbed one barefoot with the other.

　　When they began to blindfold him he himself adjusted the knotwhich hurt the back of his head; then when they propped him againstthe bloodstained post, he leaned back and, not being comfortable inthat position, straightened himself, adjusted his feet, and leanedback again more comfortably. Pierre did not take his eyes from him anddid not miss his slightest movement.

　　Probably a word of command was given and was followed by the reportsof eight muskets; but try as he would Pierre could not afterwardsremember having heard the slightest sound of the shots. He only sawhow the workman suddenly sank down on the cords that held him, howblood showed itself in two places, how the ropes slackened under theweight of the hanging body, and how the workman sat down, his headhanging unnaturally and one leg bent under him. Pierre ran up to thepost. No one hindered him. Pale, frightened people were doingsomething around the workman. The lower jaw of an old Frenchman with athick mustache trembled as he untied the ropes. The body collapsed.The soldiers dragged it awkwardly from the post and began pushing itinto the pit.

　　They all plainly and certainly knew that they were criminals whomust hide the traces of their guilt as quickly as possible.

　　Pierre glanced into the pit and saw that the factory lad was lyingwith his knees close up to his head and one shoulder higher than theother. That shoulder rose and fell rhythmically and convulsively,but spadefuls of earth were already being thrown over the wholebody. One of the soldiers, evidently suffering, shouted gruffly andangrily at Pierre to go back. But Pierre did not understand him andremained near the post, and no one drove him away.

　　When the pit had been filled up a command was given. Pierre wastaken back to his place, and the rows of troops on both sides of thepost made a half turn and went past it at a measured pace. Thetwenty-four sharpshooters with discharged muskets, standing in thecenter of the circle, ran back to their places as the companies passedby.

　　Pierre gazed now with dazed eyes at these sharpshooters who ran incouples out of the circle. All but one rejoined their companies.This one, a young soldier, his face deadly pale, his shako pushedback, and his musket resting on the ground, still stood near the pitat the spot from which he had fired. He swayed like a drunken man,taking some steps forward and back to save himself from falling. Anold, noncommissioned officer ran out of the ranks and taking him bythe elbow dragged him to his company. The crowd of Russians andFrenchmen began to disperse. They all went away silently and withdrooping heads.

　　"That will teach them to start fires," said one of the Frenchmen.

　　Pierre glanced round at the speaker and saw that it was a soldierwho was trying to find some relief after what had been done, but wasnot able to do so. Without finishing what he had begun to say hemade a hopeless movement with his arm and went away.