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.

Prince Vasíli is on the precipice of enticing Pierre to ask for his daughter’s hand. He hardly let a day go by without hosting an event at which Pierre was present. For six weeks, the new Count was lured into making a home of Vasíli’s mansion.

Vasíli was planning to get two of his children married, Anatole as well as Hélène. Vasíli felt compelled to finalize matters with Pierre before touring his neglected provincial estates. He then desired to pick-up Anatole from his regiment and take him to Smolensk to arrange a match with Gen. Bolkónski’s daughter.

Pierre’s conduct was as a young lover’s should be - excited and foolish. Vasíli thought, “Youth, frivolity... God be with him.” He surmised the right time to push for resolution was at Hélène’s upcoming name-day celebration. Pierre’s mixed emotions persisted. He realized how devastating it could be to tie his fate to Hélène. Yet he had no ability to leave her orbit. He was overpowered by desire.

In Society’s eyes Pierre was more and more connected with Hélène. All were waiting for him to propose. Terror seized Pierre upon realizing how close he was. When the celebration arrived, the guests included close friends and family. All were in high spirits. Vasíli merrily went round the table, chatting about the Imperial Council, where the military governor read a missive about the war from Czar Alexander. The governor was overjoyed the letter was directed to him.

As much as such trifling interests united the aristocrats, all this was sideshow to Pierre and Hélène. Pierre found the dynamic intoxicating. He thought, “They are all expecting it, so…I cannot disappoint them!” He considered himself a Paris possessed of Helen of Troy. Deep down, Pierre knew that only since becoming the Count did he receive favor. Still, in the moment, he believed that it was he who was unusually striking. He was taken out of this mindset when Vasíli asked when he last heard from Andrei, who had written from Olmütz.

After supper, Pierre & Hélène followed others to the drawing room. Pierre had had never spoke to Hélène of love but knew it was time to. He first made some small talk. Vasíli, hovering, came up to them and again brought up the proud governor. Pierre smiled and gave a look that assured he was doing what was expected. In the next room, the Kuragin family spoke on how “marriages are made in heaven.”

The couple kept the family waiting and eventually Vasíli lost patience and decided to drag Pierre across the line. Vasíli’s manifested a triumphant countenance upon his approach and congratulated Pierre on what Pierre could not bring himself to do. He proclaimed, “Thank God! My wife has told me everything!” (though his wife did no such thing). He put his arms around the two and continued, “My dear boy... Lëlya... I am very pleased. I loved your father...and she will make you a good wife...God bless you!” He embraced and kissed them.

Pierre reflected. “All this had to be…so it is useless to ask whether it is good or bad.” At least he was rid of the doubt. Pierre held Hélène’s hand and confidently called her name. He knew “something special is always said in such cases”. He looked deep into her eyes and she drew nearer to him and told him to take of his spectacles. Pierre did so and was about to stoop and kiss her hand but with a rapid movement of her head, Hélène intercepted his lips with her own. “It is too late now, it’s done, besides I love her,” thought Pierre. He then uttered those forgotten special words, Je vous aime, but they sounded so weak he was ashamed.

Six weeks later Pierre was married, and settled in his newly furnished Petersburg mansion.

The first Sevastopol Sketch focuses on December of 1854.

Sevastopol is a name of Greek origin and is a well-known port city in Crimea. Before it was Ukrainian -- and before it was Russian or under Russian occupation -- it was part of the Crimean Khanate, heavily influenced by the Ottomans. Greek names were stamped on conquered cities just north of the Black Sea (think also Melitopol, Mariupol, and Kherson) by Czars & Czarinas as a show of respect for Greek culture. Notably, Greeks had a presence there going back thousands of years.

The first Sketch focuses on a sunrise to sunset amidst the Siege. We take in Sevastopol through the perspective of an officer and get closer to the infamous bastions as the day goes on.

Around 8 a.m., you (the officer) take notice of the rising sun above Sapun Ridge, which rises 240 meters. There is a changing of the guard, a soldier washing his face in frigid water, as well as doctors and nurses reporting to their stations. Life gets moving amidst the backdrop of death, which you can observe through wagons transporting the departed.

You traverse a muddy beach, passing over a dead horse, and get into a small boat pulled by an old man and boy. The vessel sails around a disabled warship and soon reaches a wharf near the city center. Sevastopol remains a traditional city but has also become a war encampment. The surface bears the scars of cannon fire. There is a bustle – smoking, chatting, gambling and arguing. You take in: Cossacks with their horses, women with their children, and trades-folk. All their faces express enthusiasm in carrying on. Nobody is paralyzed by fear.

Most importantly, you approach the Sevastopol Assembly Hall, which is serving as a hospital. You enter to the sights, sounds and smell of the wounded. Some are in hammocks, but the majority are on the floor. You are overcome through absorbing the pervasive suffering. You address a few of the men and they respond to your empathy. You meet one who lost his leg, who graciously thanks God that he will get his discharge. He tells you that it is best not to dwell. You come across housewives, one visiting her husband and another who was severely wounded while delivering food to her husband. You come across a blonde man with swollen face and labored breathing who is near death. You sense his internal fire of pain. You see an old gaunt solder changing his clothes. His body displays a lifetime of hardship. You can’t find words to convey your admiration.

You take in the horrors of the operating area. Sleepless doctors are at work administering chloroform and hacking limbs. You see repeated -- the placing a sharp curved knife into a healthy part of the body and the men coming to with piercing cries. What follows is an arm or leg being thrown onto a pile. The men in queue for such treatment obsess over the terror that lies ahead.

Tolstoy’s point is that such is the reality of War, not the music and drum beats and gallantry, and waving flags. This is the grim nature of suffering and death.

You leave and head to an actual bastion. You reflect on what you observed and grasp your insignificance. You take a moment to behold the majestic sky -- The Lord’s sky. For any War & Peace reader, this scene bring to mind Andrei on the field of Austerlitz, gazing from the grass at the brilliant sky. Your mind soars above the fine city with a lovely church; and Your mind is restored.

Note: There are NO spoilers in the the 2nd Epilogue to War & Peace, which is analyzed in bonus chapters. This final part of the novel involves a metaphysical exploration of the philosophy underlying W&P.

This is a complex chapter easy to get lost in. Tolstoy wrestles with one of his common themes -- Are people led or are they ready to move and inevitably pops up someone to guide them in the direction they were going?

Tolstoy emphasizes that the life of the nations is not symbolically expressed by the lives of great men such as like Napoleon, Czar Alexander or Kutuzov. Thus, Napoleon cannot be said to sum up the French people at the turn of the 19th Century. It is people themselves who are always the story of their times!

Tolstoy proffers that prominent historians/academics tend to teach, using animals as an allegory for historical movements — a herd of cattle goes in a direction because the animal in front leads and the collective will of the others vest in that leader; and if the one at the top changes, it is because of another transfer of collective will. Tolstoy preaches there is a false appeal in believing any such theory. For the academic, watching the aforesaid herd, pays no attention to the varying quality of the cows in different parts of the field or the driving of the herdsman. Such assessments are made with the benefit of hindsight and attribution of bias. Academics tend to prop up figures they find important based on values they wish to advance.

Historians are mistaken when they regard historical persons, from monarchs to artists to journalists, as expressions of their age. A significant aspect of power lies with the people. The responsibility for what happens in this world, remains with each of us.

Tolstoy then explores concept of “power” and how that word is understood. When we look at what causes historical events, we cannot help but incorporate this force. “Power” is something you can’t see – as you can visualize a cannon or statue -- yet it exists. There is an ineffability of the word. Yet we all give “power” significance because of our ability to reason and life experience.

Whenever a major event occurs, a man will appear by whose will it took place. To him we attach power. Examples given are: Napoleon III issues a decree and the French go to Mexico; the Kings of Prussia and Bismarck issue decrees and an army enters Bohemia; Napoleon I issues a decree Russia is invaded; Alexander I gives a command and the French submit to the Bourbons. However, reflection shows that it is more than such words that moves men. A prominent man’s orders are only part of the story, as there is also the physical act of the multitudes agreeing and going along.

History shows that a monarch’s expression of the will often produces no effect, as such commands are often not executed; and other times the very opposite of what is ordered occurs.

Power, from the standpoint of experience, is better defined as the relation that exists between the expression of someone’s will and the execution of that will by others. When there is a bilateral relationship – then there can be said to be power!

Tolstoy ends the chapter referencing an ancient school of thought, where historians took for granted a divine role in human affairs. When a deity issues a command, the expression of that will is independent of time and is not caused by anything, for divinity is not controlled or tied down by our concept of power. He finds the ancients more useful than most academics with respect to studying the nature of power and causality.