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The day after Rostov had been to see Boris, a review was held
of the Austrian and Russian troops, both those freshly arrived
from Russia and those who had been campaigning under Kutuzov.
The two Emperors, the Russian with his heir the Tsarevich, and
the Austrian with the Archduke, inspected the allied army of eighty
thousand men.
From early morning the smart clean troops were on the move,
forming up on the field before the fortress. Now thousands of
feet and bayonets moved and halted at the officers' command, turned
with banners flying, formed up at intervals, and wheeled round
other similar masses of infantry in different uniforms; now was
heard the rhythmic beat of hoofs and the jingling of showy cavalry
in blue, red, and green braided uniforms, with smartly dressed
bandsmen in front mounted on black, roan, or gray horses; then
again, spreading out with the brazen clatter of the polished shining
cannon that quivered on the gun carriages and with the smell of
linstocks, came the artillery which crawled between the infantry
and cavalry and took up its appointed position. Not only the generals
in full parade uniforms, with their thin or thick waists drawn
in to the utmost, their red necks squeezed into their stiff collars,
and wearing scarves and all their decorations, not only the elegant,
pomaded officers, but every soldier with his freshly washed and
shaven face and his weapons clean and polished to the utmost,
and every horse groomed till its coat shone like satin and every
hair of its wetted mane lay smooth- felt that no small matter
was happening, but an important and solemn affair. Every general
and every soldier was conscious of his own insignificance, aware
of being but a drop in that ocean of men, and yet at the same
time was conscious of his strength as a part of that enormous
whole.
From early morning strenuous activities and efforts had begun
and by ten o'clock all had been brought into due order. The ranks
were drown up on the vast field. The whole army was extended in
three lines: the cavalry in front, behind it the artillery, and
behind that again the infantry.
A space like a street was left between each two lines of troops.
The three parts of that army were sharply distinguished: Kutuzov's
fighting army (with the Pavlograds on the right flank of the front);
those recently arrived from Russia, both Guards and regiments
of the line; and the Austrian troops. But they all stood in the
same lines, under one command, and in a like order.
Like wind over leaves ran an excited whisper: "They're
coming! They're coming!" Alarmed voices were heard, and a
stir of final preparation swept over all the troops.
From the direction of Olmutz in front of them, a group was
seen approaching. And at that moment, though the day was still,
a light gust of wind blowing over the army slightly stirred the
streamers on the lances and the unfolded standards fluttered against
their staffs. It looked as if by that slight motion the army itself
was expressing its joy at the approach of the Emperors. One voice
was heard shouting: "Eyes front!" Then, like the crowing
of cocks at sunrise, this was repeated by others from various
sides and all became silent.
In the deathlike stillness only the tramp of horses was heard.
This was the Emperors' suites. The Emperors rode up to the flank,
and the trumpets of the first cavalry regiment played the general
march. It seemed as though not the trumpeters were playing, but
as if the army itself, rejoicing at the Emperors' approach, had
naturally burst into music. Amid these sounds, only the youthful
kindly voice of the Emperor Alexander was clearly heard. He gave
the words of greeting, and the first regiment roared "Hurrah!"
so deafeningly, continuously, and joyfully that the men themselves
were awed by their multitude and the immensity of the power they
constituted.
Rostov, standing in the front lines of Kutuzov's army which
the Tsar approached first, experienced the same feeling as every
other man in that army: a feeling of self-forgetfulness, a proud
consciousness of might, and a passionate attraction to him who
was the cause of this triumph.
He felt that at a single word from that man all this vast
mass (and he himself an insignificant atom in it) would go through
fire and water, commit crime, die, or perform deeds of highest
heroism, and so he could not but tremble and his heart stand still
at the imminence of that word.
"Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!" thundered from all sides,
one regiment after another greeting the Tsar with the strains
of the march, and then "Hurrah!"... Then the general
march, and again "Hurrah! Hurrah!" growing ever stronger
and fuller and merging into a deafening roar.
Till the Tsar reached it, each regiment in its silence and
immobility seemed like a lifeless body, but as soon as he came
up it became alive, its thunder joining the roar of the whole
line along which he had already passed. Through the terrible and
deafening roar of those voices, amid the square masses of troops
standing motionless as if turned to stone, hundreds of riders
composing the suites moved carelessly but symmetrically and above
all freely, and in front of them two men- the Emperors. Upon them
the undivided, tensely passionate attention of that whole mass
of men was concentrated.
The handsome young Emperor Alexander, in the uniform of the
Horse Guards, wearing a cocked hat with its peaks front and back,
with his pleasant face and resonant though not loud voice, attracted
everyone's attention.
Rostov was not far from the trumpeters, and with his keen
sight had recognized the Tsar and watched his approach. When he
was within twenty paces, and Nicholas could clearly distinguish
every detail of his handsome, happy young face, he experienced
a feeling tenderness and ecstasy such as he had never before known.
Every trait and every movement of the Tsar's seemed to him enchanting.
Stopping in front of the Pavlograds, the Tsar said something
in French to the Austrian Emperor and smiled.
Seeing that smile, Rostov involuntarily smiled himself and
felt a still stronger flow of love for his sovereign. He longed
to show that love in some way and knowing that this was impossible
was ready to cry. The Tsar called the colonel of the regiment
and said a few words to him.
"Oh God, what would happen to me if the Emperor spoke
to me?" thought Rostov. "I should die of happiness!"
The Tsar addressed the officers also: "I thank you all,
gentlemen, I thank you with my whole heart." To Rostov every
word sounded like a voice from heaven. How gladly would he have
died at once for his Tsar!
"You have earned the St. George's standards and will
be worthy of them."
"Oh, to die, to die for him " thought Rostov.
The Tsar said something more which Rostov did not hear, and
the soldiers, straining their lungs, shouted "Hurrah!"
Rostov too, bending over his saddle, shouted "Hurrah!"
with all his might, feeling that he would like to injure himself
by that shout, if only to express his rapture fully.
The Tsar stopped a few minutes in front of the hussars as
if undecided.
"How can the Emperor be undecided?" thought Rostov,
but then even this indecision appeared to him majestic and enchanting,
like everything else the Tsar did.
That hesitation lasted only an instant. The Tsar's foot, in
the narrow pointed boot then fashionable, touched the groin of
the bobtailed bay mare he rode, his hand in a white glove gathered
up the reins, and he moved off accompanied by an irregularly swaying
sea of aides-de-camp. Farther and farther he rode away, stopping
at other regiments, till at last only his white plumes were visible
to Rostov from amid the suites that surrounded the Emperors.
Among the gentlemen of the suite, Rostov noticed Bolkonski,
sitting his horse indolently and carelessly. Rostov recalled their
quarrel of yesterday and the question presented itself whether
he ought or ought not to challenge Bolkonski. "Of course
not!" he now thought. "Is it worth thinking or speaking
of it at such a moment? At a time of such love, such rapture,
and such self-sacrifice, what do any of our quarrels and affronts
matter? I love and forgive everybody now."
When the Emperor had passed nearly all the regiments, the
troops began a ceremonial march past him, and Rostov on Bedouin,
recently purchased from Denisov, rode past too, at the rear of
his squadron- that is, alone and in full view of the Emperor.
Before he reached him, Rostov, who was a splendid horseman,
spurred Bedouin twice and successfully put him to the showy trot
in which the animal went when excited. Bending his foaming muzzle
to his chest, his tail extended, Bedouin, as if also conscious
of the Emperor's eye upon him, passed splendidly, lifting his
feet with a high and graceful action, as if flying through the
air without touching the ground.
Rostov himself, his legs well back and his stomach drawn in
and feeling himself one with his horse, rode past the Emperor
with a frowning but blissful face "like a vewy devil,"
as Denisov expressed it.
"Fine fellows, the Pavlograds!" remarked the Emperor.
"My God, how happy I should be if he ordered me to leap
into the fire this instant!" thought Rostov.
When the review was over, the newly arrived officers, and
also Kutuzov's, collected in groups and began to talk about the
awards, about the Austrians and their uniforms, about their lines,
about Bonaparte, and how badly the latter would fare now, especially
if the Essen corps arrived and Prussia took our side.
But the talk in every group was chiefly about the Emperor
Alexander. His every word and movement was described with ecstasy.
They all had but one wish: to advance as soon as possible
against the enemy under the Emperor's command. Commanded by the
Emperor himself they could not fail to vanquish anyone, be it
whom it might: so thought Rostov and most of the officers after
the review.
All were then more confident of victory than the winning of
two battles would have made them.
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