Chapter 21 Chapter 21

Pierre got out of the carriage, walked past the reservists at work, and climbed up the mound that the doctor had told him from where he could see the battlefield. It was about eleven o'clock in the morning.Through the clear and thin air, a round of sun hung high behind Pierre's left, shining brightly on the vast panorama of the battlefield that bulged like an amphitheater in front of him. The Smolensk Highway winds its way through the amphitheater from the upper left and through a village with a white church situated five hundred paces below the mound (the village is Borodino).Then he passed under the village, crossed a bridge, climbed up and down several hills, and climbed higher and higher, until he reached the village of Valueva, which was visible from six versts (where Napoleon was now stationed) ).Beyond the village of Valloeva, the road disappears on the horizon in a forest that has turned yellow.In that forest of birch and fir trees, to the right of the road, the cross and bell tower of the Kolocha Monastery gleamed in the sun in the distance.In the blue distance, on both sides of the forest and the road, smoking bonfires and indistinguishable soldiers from both sides can be seen in many places.On the right, along the valleys of the Kolocha and Moskva rivers, are mountainous valleys.In the middle of the gorge, the villages of Bezubovo and Zakharino can be seen from a distance.On the left, the terrain is flatter, with fields of crops, where a burned and smoking village can be seen - Semyonovskoye.

Everything that Pierre saw from the left and the right was so vague.The left and right sides of the battlefield were not quite what he had imagined.He couldn't find what he wanted to see anywhere.Just seeing fields, meadows, armies, bonfire smoke, villages, hills, streams, no matter how you look at it, you can't find the battlefield from this place full of life, and you can't even distinguish the enemy from our team. "Got to ask someone who knows the situation," he thought, and turned to an officer who was eyeing his huge, not-soldier-garmented figure curiously. "Excuse me," said Pierre to the officer, "what is the village ahead?"

"Burkino?" the officer asked his companion. "Borodino," the other corrected him. Evidently the officer was delighted to have an opportunity of conversation, and approached Pierre. "Are there our people there?" asked Pierre. "Yes, further down there are the French," said the officer, "and there they are, visible." "Where? Where?" asked Pierre. "You can see it with the naked eye. That's right, it's there!" The officer pointed to the smoke visible on the left across the river, with a serious and earnest expression on his face, which was typical of many faces Pierre met. expression.

"Oh, that's the Frenchman! Where is it?..." Pierre pointed to the hill to the left, near which there were some groups. "That's our man." "Ah, it's our people! Where is it over there?" Pierre pointed to a mound with a big tree in the distance, next to a village in a valley, there were also some campfires smoking, and some dark things . "It's him again," said the officer. (That is, the Shevardino multi-faceted fortress.) "Yesterday was ours, now it's his." "Then where is our position?" "Position?" said the officer with a smug smile. "I can explain this to you, because I have built all our fortifications. There, see, our center is in Borodino, right there." He pointed ahead to the village with the white church. "There is the crossing of the Kolocha River. Right there, you see, there are still rows of freshly cut hay in the hollow, and there is a bridge, you see. That is our center. Our The right wing is there (he pointed to the right, far away from the valley), and there is the Moskva River, where we have three redoubts, very well built. The right wing . . . " Here the officer stopped. "You know, it's hard to explain to you... Yesterday our right wing was there, at Shevardino, there, see, there's an oak tree; now we've pulled back our left wing, and now there, There—do you see that village and that plume of smoke?—that's Semyonovskoye, and here," he pointed to the Laevsky mound. "However, the fighting will not necessarily take place here. It is only a ruse that he brought his troops here; he may well turn around Moscow from the right. But wherever we fight, our numbers will be greatly reduced tomorrow!" said the officer.

An old sergeant came up while the officer was speaking, and waited silently for his superior to finish; but, evidently not liking the officer saying such things in this place, he interrupted him. "It's time to get the earth basket," he said, rather harshly. The officer seemed to be in a panic, as if he understood that he shouldn't say such a thing, and he could only think in his heart how many casualties there would be. "By the way, the third company is going to be sent again." The officer said hastily. "What's your business, doctor?" "No, I'll take a look at it casually," Pierre replied.Then he went around the reservists and walked down the hill.

"Ah, damn it!" said the officer, running past the workers, holding his nose, after him. "Look, they! . . . They're being carried . . . that's the Virgin . . . it's coming soon . . . " Suddenly, a loud voice was heard, and officers, soldiers, and reservists all ran along the road. A procession of churches appeared at the foot of Borodino Hill.On the dusty high road, the infantry marched neatly ahead, their heads bald, their guns pointing downwards on their backs.Behind the infantry came the church singing. Soldiers and reservists without hats went around Pierre and ran towards the group.

"Our Lady has come! Patronus! . . . Our Lady of Yver! . . . " "Our Lady of Smolensk," corrected another. The reservists—those who were in the village, and those who were working in the artillery battery—dropped their shovels and ran to the church procession.Behind the battalion marching on the dusty road were priests in vestments—a little old man in a monk's cap, a group of monks and a choir.Behind them were soldiers and officers carrying a huge, gleaming golden icon with a black face.This is an icon that was shipped from Smolensk and has been with the army ever since.Surrounding the holy image are groups of soldiers without hats, walking, running, kneeling and prostrating.

The holy image stopped when it was carried up the mountain, and the people who used a large piece of cloth to support the image changed shifts, and the Bible readers lit the portable censer again and began to pray.The blazing sun baked the earth; the cool breeze blew the people's hair and the frieze of the icon, and the singing was not very loud under the thin sky.A large crowd of bald-headed officers, soldiers and reservists surrounded the icon.There were some officers standing in the open space behind the priest and the readers, and a bald general with the Cross of St. Sturgeon around his neck, standing behind the priest without making the sign of the cross (obviously a German), waited patiently for the prayers to end , he thought it necessary to hear the prayer that must have inspired the patriotic zeal of the Russian people.The other general stood there very energetically, making the sign of the cross with one hand trembling on his chest from time to time, and he was always looking around.Pierre, standing among the peasants, recognized some acquaintances among the officials, but he did not look at them: all his attention was absorbed by the solemn faces of this group of iconoclasts and reservists.At first the weary reader sang lazily and habitually (for the twentieth time): "Save your slave from calamity, Holy Mother." The priest and deacon went on: "God bless us, to You, like throwing yourself at an indestructible fortress." Then all faces returned to that look of awareness of the impending event that Pierre had seen that morning at the foot of the Mozhaisk Mountains. , I have seen this expression sometimes on many faces I met, people bowed their heads more frequently, shook their hair, heard sighs and made the sound of making the cross on the chest.

The crowd around the icon suddenly moved away and pushed Pierre.Judging from the haste with which the people moved out of the way, the person approaching the icon was probably a very important person. This is Kutuzov inspecting the position.He came to pray on the way back to Tatarinovo.Pierre recognized Kutuzov at once by his distinctive and peculiar figure. Kutuzov's huge and fat body was dressed in a long coat, his back was slightly bent, his head was full of white hair, he was not wearing a hat, and his puffy face had a white eye that was tearing from the wound. He walked with a limp. Kuai walked into the crowd with unsteady steps and stopped behind the priest.He made the sign of the cross with his habitual movements, then bowed to the ground, sighed deeply, and lowered his white-haired head.Behind Kutuzov came Bennigsen and his attendants.Although the appearance of the commander-in-chief attracted the attention of all senior officials, the reservists and soldiers did not look at him, and continued to pray.

After the prayer was over, Kutuzov went to the holy image, knelt down and kowtowed with difficulty, and tried for a long time to stand up, but he couldn't stand up because of his heavy and weak body.At last he stood up, pursed his lips like an innocent child to kiss the icon, bowed again, and touched the ground with his hand.The generals followed him; then the officers did the same, and after the officers the soldiers and reservists pushed each other, trampled, panted, and crawled on the ground with expressions of excitement.