This chapter begins to highlight the optimism of the Coalition approaching the Battle of Austerlitz. We also experience a rare crossing of the major characters, Nicholas and Andrei.

While Nicholas was riding with the Pavlograd Hussars, Boris was serving more comfortably with the Imperial Guard, accompanying Czar Alexander as he traveled toward Olmütz, Moravia, a mostly German speaking enclave of the Holy Roman Empire that sits along a tributary of the Danube River. The allies were uniting in their largest numbers with plans to square off against Napoleon’s Grande Armée. Kutúzov’s forces already reached Olmütz while the Guards were stationed 10 miles away. All units were preparing to be reviewed by Emperors Alexander and Francis II.

Nicholas receives a note from Boris, informing him that Boris arrived with the letter and money from his family. Nicholas was elated as he was dire need of funds and set off at once to find his childhood friend. Rostov’s unit was no longer on the run, so his camp swarmed with sutlers (civilian merchants). The Hussars held feast after feast, celebrating and receiving honors. Nicholas attained a promotion to cornet, a relatively low officer’s rank. He also had to buy Denisov’s horse, “Bedouin,” after his trusty “Rook” fell in battle. With such expenses, he was in serious debt.

Nicolas is over asking himself – Why am I Here? The morale of his unit infused him with a proud spirit, as he never obtained any personal glory. Nevertheless, he proudly dons his crumpled hussar cap and shabby cadet jacket. He wishes to appear more seasoned than anyone he will come across.

Commanded by Grand Duke Konstantin Pavlovich, the Imperial Guards made their march west as if on a pleasure trip, with knapsacks on carts and the finest of provisions from Austria. While supplies to Russia’s fighting regiments was notoriously poor, the Austrian authorities made sure the Imperial Guard and Emperor were well taken care of. Everywhere they stopped, bands and fanfare welcomed them and a grand ball was organized.

Boris had marched along and been quartered with Berg, who was promoted to Captain, mostly for competently arranging financial matters. Berg was rising in accord with his ambition. Boris also had his eyes on advancement, making acquaintance of many of influence. He received a letter of recommendation from Pierre and become acquainted with Andrei, through whom he hoped to gain a post on Kutuzov’s staff.

Nicholas finds Boris & Berg sitting, clean and neatly dressed, at a table in tidy quarters, playing chess. Nicholas enthusiastically greats them and imitates their old Nurse’s mangled French, saying “Petisenfans, allay cushay dormir!” Meaning, Oh children, go to sleep. All can immediately spot how much each has changed. They had not met for half a year and each young man had taken such important steps along life’s Road.

Boris rose to meet his old friend and Nicholas initially resisted because he wanted to roughhouse with Boris. Still, Boris acted in accord with etiquette , embracing Nicholas and kissing him three times. They then boisterously exchanged greetings and took notice of the attractive German land-lady. Nicholas points out how both his friend had become dandies. Soon they ordered wine.

Boris soon asks Nicholas about his experiences and if he has been under fire. Without speaking, Nicholas smiled and shook the cross of St. George fastened to his uniform and showcased his bandaged arm. The background of this award is significant as St. George (of Cappadocian Greek origin) was a 4th Century Roman Soldier who converted to Christianity and was martyred when he would not recant his faith. There is also a legend he slayed a dragon when a lovely princess was going to be sacrificed to the beast. Paintings and awards often depict his symbolic victory over evil. The figure and tale holds immense significance in Russian history.

This is an introduction to Calvary Maiden, a source Tolstoy used to portray the experiences of soldiers during the Napoleonic Wars. Tolstoy utilized a variety of such works to craft, more than 50 years after the events depicted in War & Peace, the spirit of that first decade and a half of the 19th century.

This source material was an unconventional choice as Calvary Maiden contains the journals of a young woman, Nadezhda Andreyevna Durova, who presented as a man to pursue military ambitions. Her material was first published in 1836, well-after her 9 years of service that commenced in 1806. It was rare but not unprecedented for a woman to so serve. However, journaling her experience made Durova the first known woman in the Czar's army.

There are considerable embellishments and falsehoods in Durova's work. Most notably, Durova represents that she ran away from her beloved father's home at about 15 to pursue her military career. However, Durova was likely around 22, and her adventures started after a brief marriage and having a son. The inaccuracies could be attributable to accommodating government censors, pleasing editors, or for a variety of personal reasons. It does appear that when Durova left home, she initially linked up with a Cossack regiment and later joined a series of calvary regiments, obtaining a position as a junior line officer.

Durova has a contemporarily relevant ethnic background. She advertises being born of one of the most beautiful women in Ukraine, which had been something of a free state while under Cossack rule, but was dissolved in 1773-74 and dominated by Czars/Czarinas. Durova’s maternal grandfather was a Ukrainian civil servant. At 16, her mother (also named Nadezhda) became enamored with a Muscovite Hussar who traveled to family’s small town near Poltova, an Ukrainian city with historical import. Her Ukrainian grandfather forbade any such match, as would have been customary. Nevertheless, the two eloped and the young couple was able to pursue their own path as military life initially kept them on the move. Being around this lifestyle very much fascinated her.

Durova was firstborn and describes herself as a monstrously ugly infant and the bane of her mother’s existence. However, her father (Andrej Durov) is characterized as industrious, loving and kind. It appears Andrej was descended from a low level of Polish nobility. This would have allowed his male descendants to gain an officer position, which Durova, in her disguise, was able to merit.

Durova sheds light on her escape from roles traditionally associated with females of the time, such as: wife, mother, tutor, mistress and hostess. She participated in some of the grand military events of the day and capably describes life in both war and peacetime. She is one of few authors to focus on the latter, the downtime which often makes up the bulk of a soldier's experience.

Though always in their hearts, it had been months since the Rostovs received news of Nicholas. When Count Ilya finally received a letter from his son, he ran his study with it. Anna Drubetskaya, Boris’ mother, was living with the family and aimed to be useful. She found Ilya sobbing and laughing. His darling boy suffered a small wound but was promoted. He found this reason to thank God. Still, he wonders how to tell his wife of the injury. Anna therefore took the rest of the day preparing the Countess.

Young Natasha convinced Anna to reveal the nature of the letter and promised to keep it secret. She broke her word right away, telling Sonya (who is devoted to Nicholas) as well as her little brother, Petya. Sonya cried and Natasha comforted her -- noting it was just “a little wound.” Petya takes the missive with resolve and adds how he would have “killed many Frenchmen.”

Natasha asks Sonya, “Do you remember Nicholas?” She means in the sense of holding the same feelings. Sonya reveals, “I am in love with your brother and whatever may happen, shall never cease to love him.” Natasha no longer feels the same about Boris. Her childlike love has faded. Natasha knew there was such love as Sonya was describing, but never experienced it. They discuss whether it would be proper for Sonya to write Nicholas and reference his commitment. Sonya decides that if she is mentioned in the letter, she will write. Natasha does not have any compulsion to write Boris as she feels it would just come out awkward. Pétya reveals Natasha has developed affections for the new Count Bezúkhov as well as her Italian singing coach.

After dinner, the Countess was in her room focused on a portrait of Nicholas. Anna arrived with the letter while Ilya listened through a keyhole. There was crying, silence, then voices in happy intonation. Anna opened the door and exhibited a proud expression. Anna embraced her husband and in came Véra, Natasha, Sonya and Pétya. All went over the letter. There was a description of the campaign, battles and the promotion. Nicholas sent his love and asked for his parents’ blessings. He sent a special greeting to “dear Sónya, whom he loved and thought of just the same as ever.” When Sonya heard this, she blushed, cried and ran to the dancing hall, where she whirled around at full speed.

The practical Vera asked, “Why are you crying, Mamma? One should be glad and not cry.” This was true but not wise to express. She was reproached by the family while her mother thought, “and who is it she takes after?”

The letter was read over among tutors, nurses and servants. Each time the Countess did so with fresh pleasure. She contemplated how incredible it was that her son, once a scarcely perceptible motion under her heart, who had learned to say little words, was now away in a foreign land doing warrior’s work as a model officer. It was the universal experience - showing how children imperceptibly grow from the cradle to manhood. Yet it does not exist for a mother. Her boy’s growth, at each stage, seemed as extraordinary to her as if it never existed in others. She thought, “What style! and “what a heart and soul!” She noticed how Nicholas barely wrote of his exploits and sufferings, but mentions Denísov and others.

A bountiful response would come from the family, as a new officer needs supplies which are NOT paid for by the army. Preparations were being made, along drafts of letters. 6,000 rubles was collected. There was a question of how to reach Nicholas as he was on the move and the postal system was notoriously ill-managed.

Anna would prove her worth yet again in conveying the material. She had curried favor with authorities (couriers for Grand Duke Constantine Pávlovich, a historic figure and elder brother of Alexander I) to secure a means of communication to reach Boris, who would convey any package to Nicholas.

Once separated for the evening, Anatole fell right asleep. The charmed women did not.

Marya considered, “Is he really to be my husband? This stranger who is so kind.” However, she soon feels the force of evil near her as a Satanic image mixed with Anatole’s. She rang for her maid, asking her to sleep in her room. Lise grumbled how uncomfortable she was in bed. Anatole’s presence reminded her of when she was not impacted by pregnancy and loneliness. Amélie Bourienne walked about the winter garden, working out this scenario where she would allow herself to be seduced, then try to win Anatole with a story about how her poor mother’s ghost shamed her. Conveying this would hopefully guilt Anatole into marrying her. Such projection contrasts with Marya, who would never so play with spirits.

Bolkonsky could not sleep and reflected, “The first man that turns up—she forgets her father and becomes so unlike herself!” He is disappointed Marya did not have the pride to see Anatole’s nature. He considers casting off Bourienne and aims to reveal the truth, in part, to convince Marya not to leave Bald Hills.

The next morning, Anatole and Amélie recognized how much each had to “say” to the other. They took the opportunity to rendezvous in the garden when Marya went to meet her father.

Marya was told, “I have a proposition and refer it to you. Prince Vasíli finds you to his taste as a daughter-in-law and makes a proposal to you on his protégé’s behalf.” Marya asks for her father’s input but realizes he does not approve. He informs her Anatole will take her dowry and bring Bourienne into the marriage. Marya become despondent and her father feigned speaking in jest. He advises Marya to take an hour to pray over the matter and adds, “Remember that your happiness depends on your decision. He receives his orders from his father and will marry you or anybody; but you are free to choose.”

Mary wishes to accept but what her father said had an impact. An invisible force led her into the conservatory, where she recognized the whispering of Amélie. A few steps away, she saw Anatole fully embracing the French woman. Marya was shocked. Amélie screamed and ran off. Anatole composed himself, bowed with a smirk, as if inviting Marya to join in a laugh and retreated.

Marya was summoned an hour later as she comforted Amélie. She gazed at Amélie with tender affection and stroked her hair. Amélie was apologetic, “You who are so pure… can never understand being so carried away.” Marya responded, “I love you more than ever and will do all I can for your happiness.” She then she went to address Anatole’s father.

Vasíli was optimistic. “My dear! My son’s fate is in your hands. Decide, my gentle Marie, whom I have always loved as a daughter!” Bolkonsky put the matter bluntly, “Do you wish or not to be Prince Anatole Kurágin’s wife? Reply and then I reserve the right to state my opinion.” Marya answered, “My desire is never to leave you, Father.” Vasíli did not relent, “Will you not give us a little hope of touching your heart? Say ‘perhaps’... The future is so long.” Marya continued, “Prince, I have said all in my heart. I thank you for the honor but shall never be your son’s wife.” Bolkonsky then steered Vasíli out the door and sends Marya to her room. “Well, so that’s finished, my dear fellow! I am very glad to have seen you.”

Marya contemplated, “My vocation is to be content with another kind of happiness, of love and self-sacrifice. Cost what it may, I will arrange poor Amélie’s happiness as she loves Anatole so passionately and repents. I will give her the means; I will ask my father and Andrei. I shall be so happy when she is his wife. She has been so unfortunate, alone and helpless! And how she must love him if she could so forget herself! Perhaps I might have done the same!”

Marya comes from her room to meet Anatole and is quickly smitten by his attractiveness. He introduced himself and stood smiling with his chest expanded. He was hardly eloquent but had the invaluable faculty of composure. He knew he inspired curiosity, awe and lust. Marie wished to convey that she did not expect to interest him.

The conversation became genial thanks to Lise. Speaking French, she drew all into her stories. Shaking a finger at Anatole, she reveals, “I have heard of your doings in Paris!” With Paris referenced, Bourienne jumped in and Anatole thought, “la petite est gentile.”

Bolkonsky remained in his study, considering how Vasíli is a shallow soul with his son likely in the same mold. Their presence brought up whether he could part from the daughter he cherished. “Why should she marry? To be unhappy?” He thought of Lise, thinking a better husband than his son could not be found. Still, Lise was not content. He realized some women remain happier and have more agency unmarried. He also demanded any suitor be worthy. As Vasíli stepped in to drag Pierre into marriage, Bolkonsky is preparing to keep Marya out.

Upon meeting his guests, Bolkonsky noticed Anatole flirting with Bourienne and already felt Marya was playing the fool. He went up to Vasíli, exchanged pleasantries and discussed news of the war, but soon broke off to chastise his daughter for her new look, reducing her to tears.

Bolkonsky then addressed Anatole and spoke in a way where Anatole felt compelled to hold back laughter. “My dear boy…So, you wish to serve the Tsar and the country? It is wartime, such a fine fellow must serve. Well, are you off to the front?” In responding, Anatole must ask his father what unit he is attached to, which confirms Bolkonsky’s suspicions of his quality.

Nevertheless, as soon as Vasíli got Bolkonsky alone, Vasíli announced his hopes. Bolkonsky said he would ask Marya tomorrow in everyone’s presence. If she is willing, Anatole can “stay on,” but still notes “I’ll see,” implying he would be the final arbiter. Vasíli adds “I will tell you frankly, Anatole is no genius, but he is an honest, goodhearted lad, excellent son, and would be no less a relative.”

Anatole remains busy entertaining the women of the House. Attributable to their loneliness, all were charmed. Even Marya forgot her plainness. Anatole seemed out of a dream: kind, confident, masculine, and magnanimous. Aspirations of a family rose in Marya’s imagination. “Am I too cold with him? I remain reserved because in the depth of my soul I feel too near to him already.” In contrast, Anatole thought, “Poor girl, she’s devilish ugly!”

Bourienne’s passions were also spurred. Without any status, relatives, or even a country, she did not intend to devote her life to serving Bolkonsky. She dreamed of a prince like this who would appreciate her looks and fall in love. Her aunt had told her about such scenarios. It was not calculation that guided her as she didn’t have the sense to plan. She just wished to try to please the man before her. Anatole was cognizant of his power and the feeling that most intensely rose was a passionate lust for Bourienne.

Mary was soon asked to play on the clavichord. Her favorite sonata bore her into animated poetic world. In her lovely eyes there was a look of hope and joy. Anatole faced Marie but concentrated on Bourienne. Mary would look at Bourienne, thinking, “How happy I am now, and how happy I may be with such a friend and such a husband!

When it came to retire, Anatole kissed Marya’s hand. He did the same to Bourienne, which was a breach of protocol. She flushed as Marya considered, “Is it possible Amélie thinks I could be jealous of her, and not value her devotion.” Lastly, Anatole went up to Lise and they had a playful interaction to close the night.

In August of 1908, when 80 years old, Tolstoy penned the open letter, “The Blessings of Love,” referring to the Love which embodies the Almighty. Tolstoy wrote much, later-in-life, about his religious convictions, but this episode will focus on this relatively short letter addressed to “Good People Everywhere.”

Tolstoy explicitly introduces the concept of divine Love in War & Peace through Mayra reaching out in prayer when she faces the temptation for physical pleasure when Anatole pays a courting visit. She feels the Lord has placed in her heart the direction to orient herself around heavenly Love. She is reminded to focus on the Lord’s command of Love: meaning commitment to others as demonstrated by God’s willingness to sacrifice his Son.

Tolstoy begins his missive with special appeal to those “fighting on behalf of one government or another, which nobody needs.” He specifically reaches out to his “Dear Brothers” including: “King, Minister, Merchant, Worker, and Peasant.”

He notes that the further he reaches in life, the more it becomes clear that we need to focus on this transcendent Love. Tolstoy proffers that our earthly toils distract us from this obligation; but it is what the Lord desires for our short indeterminate lifespans, which lie between the voids of pre-birth and post-death. Tolstoy, believing his end was immanent, was acknowledging the transience and fragility of terrestrial life. He did not dread the prospect of death, but viewed it as natural and beneficial, like one day passing into another.

He writes that our lives have such potential for joy, where we can appreciate the heavens and nature, with a stewardship for what is before us. Instead, we wind up creatures constructing buildings, factories and roads, often for the latest commerce system that mass produces items Tolstoy believes nobody needs. Such industrial demands create pollution and sicken workers (physically and mentally), who dwell in the slums of the early 20th century. In mining pursuits, Tolstoy emphasizes, somewhat metaphorically, how workers descend into the earth to extract stones and iron. This stands in contrast to looking upwards and outwards – towards the divine.

Instead of living joyfully and being prone to God’s bounty, we hate, kill, harass and accumulate. Some utilitarian masters-of-the-day claim to be guided by a greater good. Others are influenced by habit, tradition, or imitation. However, without focus on the divine, so many have been reduced to fighting like animals, and live a perversion of what life should be.

Ultimately, we must do what coincides with the demands of our soul, namely to act in the spirit of brotherly Love.

Tolstoy proposes: let the those fighting for so-called freedom or order, put a tinge of their efforts toward living out this Love. He is confident everyone will see the fruits of their labor and experience a bliss. Even if you try it for a day, it will make you unlikely to turn back. For Love transcends death. He appears to be referencing popular Gospel teachings, such as to live to accumulate treasures in heaven, instead of riches on earth, which will inevitably perish. For divine Love is eternal.

Tolstoy concludes that all of his fame, wealth, and devices of social life are trivial compared to the Love the soul demands. Therefore, we are to live with sacrificial intent. Such a life is open to us and calls.

Nicholas Bolkónski receives a letter from Vasíli Kuragin, who would be visiting with his prodigal son, Anatole. This is a suitor for Marya. Bolkónski always held a poor opinion of Vasíli, but this view converted into an utter contempt.

On the morning Vasíli was to arrive, the head serf, Alpátych, deferentially explained that he had the path swept of snow after being informed a “minister” was arriving. Bolkónski exploded, “A minister? Who gave orders to sweep? For me, there are no ministers!” He does not want Vasíli to receive special treatment. Bolkónski swung a walking stick near Alpátych and shouted, “Throw the snow back on the road!”

At mealtime, Amélie Bourienne brings up the impending visit and Bolkónski references how he got Vasíli his initial governmental position. He alludes, with disdain, to the obvious reason for the visit. Bourienne changes the subject to flowers in the conservatory. This, along with the soup, placated Bolkónski. Later Bolkónski went to check on Lise, who avoided the meal under the pretense of her pregnancy. He asked how she was feeling. Lise, who pregnancy made plain, lived in trepidation, but grew accustomed to life and took a fancy to Bourienne.

Bolkónski then visited his head serf. Alpátych relayed the snow was shoveled back and pleaded, “Forgive me..... It was only my stupidity.” “All right,” responded Bolkónski and stretched out his hand to be kissed.

Vasíli and Anatole arrived that evening and were met by servants, who had to drag the sleighs and baggage over re-laden snow. Once settled, Anatole became at ease. He regarded life as a continual round of amusement and realized, why not marry her if she has so much money? He shaved, scented himself and held his head high as he approached his father. He asks, “Father, is she truly hideous?” He is rebuked, “Enough! Remember, for you everything depends on this.”

Marya, in contrast, sat alone in her room, forlorn. Lise and Bourienne had a better sense of how to make an elegant presentation and put heartfelt effort into preparing Marya, acting with the naïve conviction that dress or hairstyle could make a face pretty. Marya was so plain that nothing helped. Neither thought of her as a rival in terms of beauty. Marya remained piteous and her companions eventually retreated.

Alone, Marya let her mind wander and dreamed of a husband, a dominant attractive man. She dreamed of the joy of physical relations and fancied nursing her own child, with her husband gazing tenderly. However, the visualization broke and she realized, “I am too unattractive.” She was soon summoned to meet Anatole. She felt appalled at what she had been thinking and went to the nearby prayer room, where she fixed her eyes on an icon of her Savior. A painful thought filled her soul, Could the joy of love, earthly love for a man, be for her? With a handsome guest invading the threshold, this deeply hidden longing revealed itself.

Instead of trying take steps to satisfy her desire, she appeals in prayer: Oh Lord… How am I to renounce these vile fancies, so as peacefully to fulfill Thy will?” God placed the answer in her heart, revealing that she was to focus on divine love, that selfless love motivated by commitment to others, as demonstrated by God being willing to sacrifice his Son. The Lord continues, Desire nothing for thyself… be not envious or fearful. The future and thy own fate must remain hidden, but live so that thou mayest be ready for anything. If it be God’s will for thee to marry, be ready to fulfill His will.

With this consolation, Princess Marya crossed herself and was mentally prepared to present herself, thinking no more of superficialities, as nothing could matter in comparison with the will of God.

This second and final part of the first Sevastopol Sketch takes you from the Assembly Hall to the artillery fortifications/bastions.

After taking in the majestic sky, you are brought back to earth, to the vulgarity of war. A funeral procession marches by. The music and banners cover up the beastliness you observed in the Hall.

You reach the lively city center and pass inns, shops and street merchants. You notice the variety of officers, many finding relief in alcohol. You overhear the musings of soldiers covering the latest battles, logistics, leadership, and field conditions. Causalities are relayed with the ease of giving weather updates. The tales of these men will be told for generations. You hear reports from the infamous 4th bastion, which is spoken of with transcendent reverence. Those in the most critical positions find themselves best able to focus on the task at hand, much like the fictional Captain Tushin at the Battle of Shongräben.

You drift towards the bastions amidst a frozen mist on an avenue destroyed by artillery. You notice pierced roofs and broken windows. A stone walkway gives way to crude boards and beams.

As you near and ascend a steep hill, officers (in groups of four) are hauling the wounded on stretchers. Near the top of the hill, you observe the action as bullets whiz about. Below is a trench of foul-smelling muck that leads to more directly to the bastions.

There is an elevated path on the hill, but it exposes you. You nevertheless use it as the alternative is dreadful. In a few hundred paces you reach a battery and notice broken guns and cannon balls. Artillery whistles and thuds about you. For a moment, you believe you reached the 4th Bastion. However, it is the relatively safer Yazonovsky Redoubt. After a short stay, you traverse a narrow trench leading you to the infamous stronghold. You pass sharp-shooters eating, smoking and chatting. Others are playing cards. This is their home and they make the best of their lot. A soldier of the 4th Bastion takes interest in you and tries to ease your nerves.

There seems to be only one large working cannon in a battery, which a naval officer demonstrates the use of. Much was destroyed the day before. The enemy (French) are only 30 to 40 fathoms away. 60-80 yards. Naval officers are working the smaller guns. These wrinkled and sunburned men have wide shoulders, powerful torsos and stout legs. Their resolve is unimpeachable.

A naval officer appears to have killed two of the enemy and you absorb their countenance, craving for revenge. Balls of death volley your way and the earth shatters. There are showers of dirt, stones and debris. Some of your own become casualties.

You expect the next shell will end your life, but it passes and you become exuberant. You dare the enemy to strike you!

You visualize a dying man being carried. His face is imbued with exaltation. His eyes shine bright as he uses all his energy to hold his head up. In a trembling voice, he says – Farewell brothers.

You are transfixed by the valiance of the men as you take your leave – they are the defenders of Sevastopol. They are unwavering in spirit and demonstrate unparalleled courage under fire.

This is the dynamic in the early days of the Siege - when holding out was viewed as a military impossibility. However, there was still no chance of a surrender. It was an effort worthy of the heroes of Greece.