War and Peace a guided tour

Anna Pavlovna opens the war

The novel begins not on a battlefield but in a drawing room, and the first voice belongs to a hostess, not a general. Anna Pavlovna Scherer's soirée is Tolstoy's entry point into Petersburg society — a world where politics is conducted in French, where the news of Napoleon's latest moves is converted into wit, and where the war that will run through everything is still a fashionable topic rather than a lived catastrophe. Prince Vasili Kuragin arrives first, polished and patronizing; the Vicomte de Mortemart is displayed like a rare dish; the Abbé Morio and the young Princess Bolkonskaya join the spinning salon. What Tolstoy establishes here is the machinery of a class: its codes, its languages, its way of processing events so that nothing quite disturbs the surface. The famous 'spinning wheels' metaphor — Anna Pavlovna keeping the conversation turning like a foreman managing looms — tells you everything about the relationship between form and content in this world. The world of the novel opens with a hostess who has the war exactly where she wants it: at the center of the room but safely framed in epigrams.

The salon fills; Hélène arrives

The second chapter is a tour of Petersburg social mechanics. Every guest must be conducted to Anna Pavlovna's aged aunt — a woman no one knows, no one cares about, and everyone must engage for the minimum time politeness requires before escaping. Tolstoy's comedy here is exact: the aunt is a social obligation that has been fully drained of meaning, a husk of ritual that everyone performs and no one believes in. Then Hélène arrives. Prince Vasili's daughter enters in a ball gown with her badge as lady-in-waiting, and the room's atmosphere changes — she is beautiful in a way that makes even the most cynical guest brighten. Tolstoy's description is technically admiring and barely concealed in its coldness: Hélène is luminous, still, and entirely empty. The little Princess Bolkonskaya is her counterpoint — charming, pregnant, full of life in a way that refreshes the men who speak with her. The chapter sketches the social world Tolstoy needs established before he can begin to take it apart.

The Vicomte tells a story

This chapter captures Tolstoy's satirical gift at its most precise: Anna Pavlovna organizes her salon the way a skilled chef organizes a banquet, and the Vicomte de Mortemart is the evening's rare delicacy — displayed before being consumed. The three spinning clusters of conversation run simultaneously, and Tolstoy cuts between them, showing the structural comedy of a room in which everyone is performing for everyone else. The Vicomte's story about the Duc d'Enghien — the young Bourbon prince Napoleon had executed in 1804 — is the evening's political centerpiece, an episode that separates those who side with Bonaparte's ruthless realpolitik from those who regard it as murder. Then Pierre Bezukhov enters: heavyset, awkward, near-sighted, out of place, clearly just back from Paris where he has been defending Napoleon. His arrival disrupts the salon's smooth performance. Tolstoy introduces his protagonist through the comedy of social incompetence — the man who doesn't know how to enter a room or leave one, whose large red hands and absent-minded warmth mark him as someone the salon cannot quite process.

Andrei's contempt for the salon

Andrei's entrance in Chapter 4 is one of Tolstoy's great character introductions: a young man of obvious distinction who manages to make his boredom feel like a verdict on everyone around him. His firm, sharply defined features and measured stride set him against the soft social performance of the salon; he looks at his wife with the same weary disdain he turns on everyone else, which Tolstoy notes without softening. He speaks briefly with Anna Pavlovna, confirms he is joining Kutuzov as aide-de-camp, and makes it clear that the prospect of fighting a war is more appealing than another evening in this room. Anna Pavlovna pivots: where will his wife go while he's away? To the country. The chapter also presents Pierre and Andrei as friends in a world that seems to belong to neither of them — Pierre too enthusiastic and awkward, Andrei too sardonic and contained. Their friendship is the novel's central male relationship, two very different ways of being serious about what life is for.

Pierre defends Napoleon; Andrei deflects

This chapter is Pierre's debut as a debater — and as a social embarrassment. He defends the French Revolution's ideals in a room full of Russian aristocrats who have taken Napoleon's annexations as a personal affront, and he does it with the earnestness of a man who cannot manage irony. The Vicomte deploys the execution of the Duc d'Enghien as his central argument; Pierre counters that the Revolution marked a genuine turning point. The conversation is intellectually alive and socially catastrophic — Anna Pavlovna has to manage Pierre the way you manage a large, friendly animal that keeps knocking things over. Andrei quotes Napoleon's coronation speech in Italian with a sardonic edge that deflates the room's self-satisfaction without helping Pierre's case. What the chapter establishes is Pierre's problem for the whole novel: he is too sincere, too intellectually honest, too willing to take ideas seriously for the social world he is required to inhabit. The salon needs him to perform; he keeps arguing instead.

The guests leave; Pierre exits badly

The departure sequence is a small comedy of social incompetence — Pierre exits the salon with the wrong hat, can't find his own, and has to return it to the general before leaving. But the real weight of the chapter is in the hallway. Prince Andrei stands aside as his wife chatters with Hippolyte, his expression cold and closed. Tolstoy catches the marriage in a single posture: Andrei's shoulder turned away, his indifference total. Then he and Pierre walk together into the Petersburg night, and what follows is Pierre's confession — or near-confession — that he has promised Andrei to give up Anatole Kuragin's parties, a promise he is already planning to break. The social world of the novel is visible in the gap between public performance (the salon) and what people actually do the moment they leave it: Pierre heading toward exactly the behavior he has promised to avoid.

Andrei warns Pierre against marriage

The scene shifts from salon to private apartment, and the tone changes entirely. The little Princess is warm, animated, puzzled that her husband wants to go to war when everything here is so pleasant; Pierre is equally puzzled, but from the opposite direction — he finds the 'everything here' oppressive. Then the princess leaves the room, and Andrei says something he could never say at Anna Pavlovna's: 'Never, never get married, my friend.' The advice — spoken by a man who has married, who knows, and who clearly regrets it without blaming his wife directly — is one of Tolstoy's most economical character revelations. Everything we need to know about Andrei's inner life and his marriage is in that speech: the ambition, the wasted potential, the drawing room as a kind of death, and the war as the only escape that doesn't require him to admit what he is escaping from.

Supper, then an honest silence

A short chapter, but a transitional one: the grand social machinery of the evening has wound down and two friends are alone with their food and their thoughts. Andrei's advice about marriage still hangs in the air. Pierre, near-sighted and earnest, stares at his friend in the way he stares at most things — with undisguised curiosity and genuine affect. The chapter captures the texture of the friendship before the novel scatters them: one man heading to war, the other drifting toward a social life he cannot manage and a fortune he is about to inherit. The newly decorated dining room — everything luxuriously new, bearing the look of a recent marriage — is an ironic backdrop to Andrei's speech against marrying, and Tolstoy plants the detail without underlining it.

Pierre breaks his word; the bear incident

This chapter is Pierre's entry into the novel as an actor rather than an observer, and it is not flattering. He has given Andrei his word to stay away from Anatole's parties; he is in a cab halfway home; he knows he is going to break the promise. Tolstoy records Pierre's self-justification with clinical precision — the reasoning a weak will uses to talk itself out of its own decisions. The scene at Kuragin's is carnivalesque and dangerous: late drinkers, a live bear on a chain, roughhousing, a bottle of rum, and someone's idea of a game involving tying a policeman to the bear's back. Pierre participates. The policeman is thrown in the river. Pierre is sent to Moscow. The incident is played for comedy, but what it establishes is Pierre's fundamental problem: his will is not equal to his intentions. He means well and cannot hold his course. This will be his condition for most of the novel.

The Rostovs' name day in Moscow

The novel shifts to Moscow and to the Rostov household — and the tonal shift is immediate and total. The Bezukhov/Bolkonsky world is aristocratic, formal, French. The Rostov world is warm, Russian, chaotic, hospitable to excess. Count Rostov invites every single visitor to dinner with the identical phrase and the same hearty handshake, regardless of their rank. The countess receives in the drawing room, worn out from twelve children. Anna Mikhaylovna Drubetskaya — a former aristocrat now poor and anxious — has brought her son Boris and is maneuvering to get him into the Semeonov Guards through the Rostovs' connections. The household is defined by feeling rather than calculation: the count loves people, the countess loves her children, the house overflows with guests and noise. It is also in debt, though Tolstoy doesn't press that point here. The Rostov world is the emotional counterweight to the St. Petersburg of Anna Pavlovna's salon.

Natasha bursts in at thirteen

The chapter is short, but Natasha's entrance is unforgettable: she runs in from the other rooms, carrying something hidden in her dress, stops dead in the middle of the drawing room when she realizes she has come too far, and stands there — caught, flushed, on the verge of everything. The count throws open his arms. The countess pretends to be stern. Tolstoy gives us the Natasha of thirteen in one image: a girl who runs when she should walk, arrives where she should not be, and lights up a room by accident. She has come because Boris is visiting and she wants to see him. She is thirteen and in love and has not yet learned — and will not learn for some time — to manage what she feels. The chapter also introduces Sonya, Nicholas, and Boris in the adjoining rooms, beginning the interlocking story of the Rostov young people that will run alongside the grander events of the novel.

Sonya and Nicholas in the drawing room

Tolstoy introduces Sonya in this chapter with one of his most precise physical descriptions: a slender brunette with long lashes, braids coiled twice around her head, and a complexion warm enough to be visible in her arms and neck — 'like a pretty half-grown kitten that promises to become a beautiful cat.' The kitten has settled down to play the drawing room properly; her eyes keep following Nicholas to the army with 'passionate, girlish adoration' that her smile cannot cover. Nicholas has just left university to join the hussars along with Boris — he is leaving school for a war — and the count and his guest discuss this with the slightly anxious pride parents show when their children do alarming things in admirable ways. The chapter does not dramatize the Nicholas-Sonya relationship; it just shows it, in glances and the way Sonya's smile collapses whenever Nicholas moves.

Natasha hides; Sonya cries; a kiss

Tolstoy gives the young people their own chapter, in their own register — the conservatory's flower tubs, the corridor, the hiding game that Natasha turns into theatre even when the audience is only herself. She is thirteen and watching Boris examine himself in the mirror before he comes looking for her, and she finds this delightful rather than diminishing. Then Sonya appears, crying, and Nicholas follows, and the tangle of adolescent feeling in the Rostov household becomes briefly audible: Sonya loves Nicholas; Nicholas is about to go to war; Natasha is orchestrating a scene with Boris; everyone is half aware that what is happening among them is serious and half pretending it is a game. The chapter ends with Boris and Natasha in the conservatory, and Boris's careful, slightly formal kiss — the kiss of a boy who is still deciding what he means by it. Natasha, Tolstoy notes, is perfectly serious.

Anna Mikhaylovna's private mission

The warmth of the Rostov household contains its own forms of calculation. Anna Mikhaylovna is genuinely fond of the Rostovs and genuinely anxious for her son; she is also a woman who has been poor for a long time and who uses her friendship with the countess, her access to the Bezukhov family, and her skill at navigating wealthy households to secure Boris's future. The conversation she has with Countess Rostova — private, frank, slightly concerned — is the first clear window into the social world beneath the social surface: the Bezukhov inheritance is in play, Prince Vasili is positioning himself, and Boris's future depends on being attached to the right staff before the campaign begins. Tolstoy shows Anna Mikhaylovna's maneuvering without condemning it — she is doing what she must with the tools available to her.

Anna Mikhaylovna storms the Bezukhov house

This chapter introduces the Bezukhov household — a vast Moscow mansion where a great man is dying and where his death has already set competing interests in motion. Anna Mikhaylovna navigates the house with the determination of a woman who knows her social capital is limited and must be deployed without hesitation. She and Boris enter through a back door after the hall porter signals reluctance; she ignores the signal. The house is full of the quiet machinery of an anticipated inheritance: Prince Vasili has arrived, the three princesses — daughters of Bezukhov's second marriage — are positioned near the dying room, and everyone is managing the performance of grief while privately calculating. Anna Mikhaylovna's goal is simple: get Boris in front of Count Bezukhov and secure a letter or a word that will produce a staff appointment. Her method is forward movement: if a door is slightly open, you walk through it.

Pierre arrives at his father's house

Pierre has been sent from Petersburg to Moscow and goes to his father's house — not a house that has ever felt like home, since he is illegitimate and has always been accommodated rather than welcomed. The three princesses who live with the count receive him with the exact degree of coldness his situation warrants: he is the illegitimate son, he is in disgrace over the bear incident, and if the count dies intestate or changes his will, they stand to inherit. Their reception — one stares in frightened silence, one copies the expression, the youngest tries not to laugh — is comic and slightly cruel in equal measure. Pierre's genuine warmth and clumsiness rub against the hostile formality of the room. He asks to see his father. He is told the count is suffering physically and mentally, and that Pierre seems to have done his best to add to the mental suffering.

The countess reflects; the dinner table

A transitional chapter that moves the Rostov household toward its formal dinner and sketches the afternoon atmosphere of a great Moscow house on a name day. The men gather in the count's study around pipes and the freshly announced manifesto of war; the count himself listens to his guests argue while keeping them supplied with tobacco and satisfaction. Shinshin, the count's ironic cousin, punctures any patriotic inflation; Berg, the young Guards officer who will be Vera's future husband, represents a certain kind of ambitious correctness. The chapter also shows the countess alone for a moment after Anna Mikhaylovna's departure, pressed her handkerchief to her eyes — she is a woman who feels her friend's poverty and humiliation acutely, and the chapter gives us this private response before the public performance of the dinner resumes.

Marya Dmitrievna arrives; the men discuss war

Marya Dmitrievna Akhrosimova is one of Tolstoy's great supporting characters: a woman of no particular rank or wealth who has accumulated the respect of the imperial family and of all Moscow through nothing but common sense and absolute plain speaking. The anticipation of her arrival — every man popping out of the study to ask 'Hasn't she come yet?' — is the chapter's organizing energy. Meanwhile, the men smoke and argue. The colonel, a stout German, gets his patriotism ruffled by Shinshin's deflations. Berg, meticulous and slightly wooden, explains to Shinshin how he plans to turn military service into financial advancement — a plan Shinshin receives with amused contempt. The war manifesto has arrived; everyone has heard of it; nobody has read it; the colonel is the only one who can quote it, and does so with the emphasis of a man who finds the words self-evidently conclusive.

Marya Dmitrievna at the dinner table

Marya Dmitrievna in the flesh is exactly what the anticipation promised: direct, slightly frightening, genuinely warm to those she respects, and entirely without the social lubrication that smooths most conversations. She calls the count's wife 'my friend Natasha' and clearly means it; she calls the youngest Natasha 'a Cossack' and means that too, approvingly. At the dinner table the war news circulates with the slightly surreal energy of people arguing about something enormous that is still completely abstract to them. The colonel argues from the manifesto; Shinshin punctures. Natasha, seated at the younger end of the table, watches Marya Dmitrievna and decides to ask her directly about something — Boris, or the war, or what Marya Dmitrievna thinks of all this — and receives the kind of direct answer that most adults do not give children. The chapter establishes Marya Dmitrievna as one of the novel's moral reference points: the person who says what she sees.

After dinner: music and Natasha's voice

The chapter pivots on a moment that becomes one of Tolstoy's most celebrated passages about music and feeling: Nicholas is in despair over a gambling debt he cannot pay and has not told anyone about, and he is sitting on the edge of the card tables trying not to think about it, when Natasha begins singing in the next room. The voice — her voice specifically, with that quality it has of making you feel you are hearing something true — reaches him and does something to his despair: not resolves it, but makes it survivable. Tolstoy does not describe the voice as technically accomplished; he describes its effect on Nicholas, which is to make the rest of his life seem possible again. This is one of the novel's first demonstrations of the idea that Natasha's particular quality — being fully alive — transmits itself to the people around her.

Count Bezukhov's sixth stroke; the will

This is the novel's first great deathbed scene — and Tolstoy uses it to show how death is also a social event, organized around competing interests with the same efficiency as Anna Pavlovna's salon. The dying count lies beneath the icons in his enormous red-lit room while the priests chant and the family watches. Prince Vasili has been staying for days; his thin, pale face carries the exhaustion of a man managing several calculations simultaneously. The three princesses — particularly the eldest, Catiche — are positioned near the room with the watchfulness of people who know their futures depend on what happens in the next few hours. Anna Mikhaylovna moves with her characteristic determination toward the dying man, with Pierre in tow. The chapter is simultaneously a religious rite, a family drama, and a competition over a very large fortune — and Tolstoy holds all three registers simultaneously without letting any one dominate.

Pierre arrives; the back staircase

Pierre arrives at his father's deathbed in a state of dreamy confusion, following Anna Mikhaylovna through the back entrance while she whispers urgent instructions he barely absorbs. The back staircase entrance — with its clattering servants carrying pails, the footman who answers questions with the permission of a house where ordinary rules have been suspended — gives Tolstoy's lens the exact angle of a man who has arrived slightly too late and slightly too unprepared for the gravity of the occasion. The deathbed room is magnificent: the icons, the red-lit curtained bed, the count's leonine head on his pillows, the priests with their vestments and tapers. Pierre stands there holding his taper wrong, crossing himself in the wrong rhythm, and the youngest princess cannot look at him without laughing. It is the wrong response and the entirely human one.

Last rites; Prince Vasili and Catiche's move

The scene holds its ceremonial gravity while the real action happens in the margins. Pierre, standing with his ill-managed taper, is the one watching — and he notices that Prince Vasili and Princess Catiche have left the room together during the service and returned before it ended. He cannot reconstruct what this means, and Tolstoy does not tell him directly. But the implication is carried in Vasili's purposeful movements throughout the chapter: something about the will has been managed. Anna Mikhaylovna is watching the same movements from a different angle. The chapter ends with the dying count being offered something to drink, the service resuming, and the whole room settling back into its liturgical frame — while the practical contest over a very large fortune continues in the spaces between the prayers.

The will intercepted; Anna Mikhaylovna wins

The inheritance struggle reaches its crisis in this chapter: a physical contest over a leather portfolio in a dimly lit reception room, with Anna Mikhaylovna sitting on it and refusing to yield it to Catiche while Pierre stands watching in bewildered confusion. It is one of Tolstoy's great social comedies — two women, one of them driven by calculation and one by a combination of calculation and genuine affection, fighting over a document that will determine the financial futures of everyone in the room. Prince Vasili withdraws with the elegant helplessness of a man who has lost the round but will not be seen to have made much effort to win it. The will, when it is eventually read, makes Pierre one of the wealthiest men in Russia. He leaves the house in a daze.

Bald Hills: the old prince at his lathe

Chapter 25 is the novel's first look at the Bolkonsky world — and it is entirely unlike either Petersburg or Moscow. Bald Hills is organized around one man: Prince Nikolai Andreevich Bolkonsky, retired general, former exile, known in society as 'the King of Prussia.' He is seventy-something, a lathe-turner in his study at dawn, a mathematics teacher to his daughter who is now twenty, and a man whose household is organized with military precision because idleness, in his view, is the root of all vice. Princess Marya enters his study each morning crossing herself — this is how nervous she is — and waits for his greeting, which may or may not be brutal. Tolstoy establishes the old prince as a formidable, difficult, genuine man: genuinely intelligent, genuinely principled, genuinely cruel in ways he probably does not intend. Marya endures him with prayer and patience. Andrei is expected today with his wife, which means the lathe is turning at its usual hour under the usual tension.

Andrei Returns to Bald Hills

Old Prince Bolkonsky sleeps through his son's arrival; the servants know not to disturb the appointed order of the day. Andrei checks his watch, confirms that nothing has changed, and takes his wife to see his sister Mary instead. The little princess is charming and chatty. The old prince emerges, brilliant and cutting, conducting the household like a military exercise. He runs the estate on a schedule of iron and holds everyone to it — Andrei, Mary, Mademoiselle Bourienne, even the architect who eats at the family table as an eccentric demonstration of the prince's theory that all men are equal. Andrei is amused by the family-tree portrait. Mary is quietly reverent of everything her father does. The household in miniature: authority dressed as order, love too proud to declare itself.

The Old Prince and His System

Old Prince Bolkonsky runs his table as a commander runs a campaign: the architect seated beside the family, remarks sharpened to demonstrate a point, his daughter measured against an impossible standard. He questions Andrei about the war with the precision of a man who commanded armies in another era and still believes he would do it better than anyone now in the field. The geometry lessons he gives Mary in the morning are part of the same system — discipline as love, love as discipline. Andrei sits through it, familiar with every gesture. Mary endures with her customary patience. The little princess tries to charm and partly succeeds. Lise's sociability meets the old prince's contempt for drawing-room pleasantries, and for a moment the household's contradictions press into one room.

Andrei Leaves for the War

The trunks are packed, the carriage ready, the Turkish pistols and the saber from Ochakov wrapped in cloth. Andrei is alone in his room and allows himself to feel something — fear, sadness, anticipation — though he quickly reassembles his composed expression when he hears footsteps. It is Mary, who has come to give him a small icon and to tell him what she cannot otherwise say. She asks him to wear it. He resists. Her faith confronts his skepticism here without resolution. Then the old prince says his goodbyes in his own manner — brisk, sharp, proud — and Lise weeps, and the house at Bald Hills recedes behind the carriage wheels. Andrei is on his way to the war and to whatever meaning he has been unable to find at home.

Kutuzov Inspects the Regiment

October 1805: a Russian infantry regiment has marched seven hundred miles and halted outside Braunau to be inspected by Kutuzov. The soldiers have been up all night polishing buttons and mending straps; every regulation item is in the knapsack, every face shaved. Only the boots are wrong — more than half have holes — because the Austrian commissariat has not delivered replacements. The regimental commander, a heavyset general with thick gold epaulettes, struts before the ranks with the barely suppressed joy of a man performing the most important duty of his life. The Austrian landscape is strange: fruit orchards, tiled roofs, stone fences, hills. But the regiment looks like any Russian regiment preparing for inspection anywhere in Russia. The look-out calls it: Kutuzov is coming.

Kutuzov's Inspection: Dolokhov

Kutuzov walks the inspection slowly, his one eye taking everything in at its own pace. He pauses before Dolokhov — a private who should be wearing a soldier's gray coat and is instead wearing a blue civilian one. Dolokhov, demoted from officer rank for an incident with a bear, presents himself with insolent directness and announces his intention to prove himself in the campaign before asking for restoration. Kutuzov says nothing and moves on. The regimental commander is left with the boots problem still unsolved. Kutuzov completes the inspection and calls the colonel forward: the boots are a disgrace. The colonel protests, explains. Kutuzov knows the Austrian commissariat is to blame. He knows everything, processes it slowly, and the inspection ends with the regiment exactly as it was before — except now Kutuzov has seen it.

Kutuzov and the Austrian General

Kutuzov brings the Austrian member of the Hofkriegsrath to his private room and gives a small masterclass in diplomatic evasion. He tells the general, in perfectly calibrated French, that he would of course wish to join the Archduke immediately, that circumstances are sometimes stronger than personal desire, that the situation is being handled with all appropriate diligence — and says absolutely nothing. Andrei stands in the doorway with dispatches, waiting. When the Austrian leaves, Kutuzov's manner changes: he asks Andrei how the action looks, listens with genuine attention, and reveals a sharp mind beneath the slow, agreeable surface he shows to allies he does not quite trust. The scene is Tolstoy's introduction to Kutuzov's double register — one face for politics, another for war.

Nikolai Rostov Joins the Hussars

October 11, the same day headquarters is buzzing with the news of Mack's defeat at Ulm. Nikolai Rostov, who has only recently caught up with the Pavlograd Hussars in Poland, rides back from a foraging expedition and springs from his horse with the supple ease of a happy young man. Denisov — the squadron commander, known throughout the cavalry division as Vaska Denisov — hasn't come home yet; he has been losing at cards all night. Rostov enters the quarters, greets everyone, eats, drinks, and radiates the uncomplicated warmth of a young man who is happy in his regiment. Tolstoy is precise about this contentment: it is real and it belongs to a stage of life that won't last. The camp world — camaraderie, horses, duty, minor adventure — suits Rostov entirely for now.

Rostov's Honor Quarrel

The argument in Denisov's quarters is urgent and sincere: a staff captain with decades of service and a scarred military record tells Rostov that he must apologize to the regimental colonel, who has accused him of lying. Rostov is incandescent. He will not say he lied because he was not lying — and if the colonel calls him a liar, then the colonel is the liar, and no amount of pressure from the officers around him will make him say otherwise. The staff captain speaks from experience: he has been broken twice for matters of honor and knows what the price is. Denisov eventually weighs in with characteristic oblique warmth. The quarrel is small in itself but reveals Rostov's character exactly: the same passionate sincerity, pride, and physical straightforwardness that will serve him in battle and cost him elsewhere.

Retreat to the Enns Bridge

October 23. Kutuzov is falling back toward Vienna, destroying bridges behind him. At the Enns crossing the Russian army is filing through the town on both sides of the bridge: artillery, baggage, column after column. Nesvitski has been sent to the rearguard and sits comfortably on a gun carriage eating pies and pouring doppelkümmel for the officers gathered around him. The Austrian landscape is beautiful in autumn: the Enns meeting the Danube, a castle in the distance, forests and a convent visible through the rain. Two enemy shells have already flown across the bridge. Nesvitski is still eating. The gap between the beauty of the scene and its meaning — retreat, defeat, the French closing from behind — is precisely what Tolstoy is after.

Nesvitski on the Enns Bridge

Two shells have flown overhead. The bridge is jammed with infantry, carts, horses, and the general press of the retreat. Nesvitski has dismounted and found himself pinned against the railings by the current. He watches the fast brown Enns ripple around the bridge pilings and the living wave of soldiers move steadily across — shoulder straps, shakos, bayonets, muddy boots — a river of men identical and yet each with his own face. Officers appear in the flow like foam flecks. Baggage wagons drift through like logs. The Cossack behind Nesvitski, holding two horses, gives up trying to push forward and makes peace with the situation. Tolstoy captures the bridge in the terms of the river below it: two currents flowing simultaneously, both heading in the same direction, neither controlled by anyone.

Hussar Squadron at the Enns

The infantry has crossed. The baggage has crossed. Only Denisov's squadron remains, watching the French appear at the crest of the hill: first scouts, then artillery, then infantry in blue coats. Seven hundred yards of empty ground between them. The hussars rise slightly in the stirrups at each cannon shot and settle back — every face, from Denisov's down to the bugler's, showing the same mixture of tension, irritation, and excitement around the mouth. Rostov is on the left flank with his horse Rook, wearing the look of a schoolboy called up before a large audience, certain he is about to shine. But around his mouth, too, the same new thing. One hussar cadet flinches. Denisov wheels back and forth, unable to stay still, correcting men who duck. Tolstoy's account of what it feels like to be under fire for the first time: you want to cross the invisible line between the living and the dead, and you are terrified to cross it, and you will cross it.

Andrei Carries the Victory to Brünn

The Russian army has halted at Krems and shattered Mortier's division — the first time in two weeks of retreat that Russian troops have held a field and driven the French back. Prince Andrei has served as aide to General Schmidt, who was killed in the action. Kutuzov sends Andrei as dispatch rider to the Austrian court at Brünn. On the night road through snow and stars, Andrei runs the battle through his mind in pleasurable replay, imagines his reception, asks himself the question he has been carrying since Petersburg: where is his Toulon? The night gives way to morning. The snow melts. The horses gallop. His arm is grazed but he is alive, and carrying good news, and still reaching for the glory that organized his life before Austerlitz reorganized it for him.

Bilíbin and the Diplomatic Set

Bilíbin welcomes Andrei to his luxurious apartment with the warmth of a man who genuinely likes clever company and rarely finds it. After the campaign, Andrei feels the pleasure of clean sheets, good food, and a fire. Around Bilíbin's dinner table, four young diplomats make up the set known as 'ours' — wealthy, fashionable men with elaborate social rituals and no great interest in the war except as a source of conversation. They receive Andrei as one of their own with the slight condescension of people who value their exclusivity. Bilíbin himself is the master of a particular kind of speech: the carefully constructed sentence that says the officially acceptable thing with just enough irony visible at the edges to let you know he sees exactly what is happening. Andrei, who is used to being in Kutuzov's company, finds the contrast sharp.

The Diplomatic World at Brünn

The four diplomats and Prince Andrei sit over dinner and Bilíbin holds court. He has prepared several bons mots about the Austrian situation — the loss of Vienna, the Ulm disaster, the general muddle of the campaign — and delivers them with the timing of a man who writes his good lines in advance and is waiting for the right moment. One remark about the Austrian generals earns particular applause from the circle. Andrei, who has actually been at the campaign and watched men die, listens with the divided attention of someone who finds the wit impressive and the occasion slightly absurd. But Bilíbin is not merely decorative. In the pauses between jokes he gives Andrei a genuinely useful account of the political situation: what the Emperor of Austria intends, what Murat is likely to do with the Vienna bridge, and what happens next if no one acts. The bon mot and the intelligence briefing are not opposed in Bilíbin — they are the same skill.

Andrei Meets Emperor Francis

At the levee, Emperor Francis stares at Andrei's face and nods. Later, in the formal audience, he receives Andrei standing in the middle of the room, flushed and flustered. He asks when the battle began. He asks if Kutuzov is in good health. He asks what time the battle began — a question he has already asked. The answers do not interest him. He is performing the part of an emperor receiving a dispatch rider rather than actually doing so. Andrei answers precisely, stands straight, and observes the gap between the ceremony and its content. The emperor's manner is not unkind; it is simply hollow. Bilíbin has described this court with his usual precision and the audience confirms everything. Andrei takes his formal leave feeling that he has been seen by someone who looked without seeing.

Andrei Rides Back Through Chaos

Andrei takes his leave of the Minister of War and sets out to rejoin the army, not sure where it is and afraid of being captured by the French on the road to Krems. Near Hetzelsdorf he hits the main road and finds the army moving in complete disorder: wagons jammed, soldiers talking without commands, the look of an army that has stopped believing in its plan. He gets a horse and a Cossack escort, abandons his carriage in the crush, and rides toward Kutuzov through a chaos that is worse than the briefings suggested. Napoleon's words float back to him: 'That Russian army which English gold has transported from the ends of the earth — we shall make it share the same fate as the army at Ulm.' And underneath the sting of that: 'If all that's left is to die, I'll do it no worse than anyone else.' Andrei is already beginning to understand that this is not the campaign he imagined in the carriage from Bald Hills.

Kutuzov's Impossible Choice

A spy's report: the French have crossed the Vienna bridge intact and are advancing in mass toward Kutuzov's line of communication with the reinforcements coming from Russia. Three options, all bad: stay at Krems and be surrounded; retreat into the Bohemian mountains without roads or hope of joining Buxhöwden; or retreat along the Krems–Olmütz road and race the French to Znaim. Kutuzov chooses the race. Bagration gets four thousand men and orders to march without rest to the Vienna–Znaim road and hold the French for as long as possible. Kutuzov takes the rest of the army — exhausted, outnumbered, burdened with supply trains — and pushes for Znaim. The mathematics are stark: the French road is shorter and better. Bagration must arrive first and hold longer than four thousand men should be able to hold a hundred thousand.

Andrei Joins Bagration's Advance Guard

Three or four in the afternoon. Andrei, with Kutuzov's permission, rides to Grunth and reports to Bagration. Bonaparte's aide-de-camp hasn't yet reached Murat's forces; the battle hasn't started. Nobody in Bagration's detachment is sure what is happening — some speak of peace, some of battle. Bagration receives Andrei with the respect due to one of Kutuzov's trusted adjutants and offers him a choice: observe from the rearguard or stay with the advance. Andrei stays. He surveys the position — rain-soaked officers with dejected faces wandering through a village, soldiers pulling doors off buildings for campfires. He finds a battery on high ground with a view across both armies' positions and begins sketching a tactical plan, noting where the artillery should concentrate, where the cavalry should withdraw. He is planning the battle in his mind while listening, without quite meaning to, to two officers talking inside a hut beside the guns.

Captain Tushin's Battery

Andrei surveys the position from the artillery battery, sketching his tactical plan, when a voice from inside the hut arrests him. An officer — small, slight, barely military in bearing — is speaking to a younger man about what it would mean to know what lies beyond death. The voice is genuine, not performing. Inside, Andrei finds Captain Tushin: an artillery officer with small kind eyes, a large pipe, and nothing about him that announces authority or heroism. He has been thinking out loud about fear and death. The younger officer, embarrassed by Andrei's arrival, laughs it off. Tushin is unruffled. He continues the conversation in his own quiet way, and Andrei — who has been thinking about glory and Toulon — finds himself listening to someone who thinks about entirely different things. The battle then begins: a puff of smoke from the French battery, the report a second later, and Andrei mounts and gallops back to Bagration.

The Battle of Schön Grabern Begins

The battle opens with a growing cannonade. Andrei gallops back to Bagration with the French artillery building behind him. The parley has collapsed: Murat, humiliated by having been deceived into thinking a peace was possible while Kutuzov gained time, has sent his forces forward to crush the Russian detachment before evening. Andrei rides through companies that were eating porridge fifteen minutes ago, now forming ranks and readying muskets, every face showing the same fierce eagerness. 'It's started! Here it is — terrifying but thrilling.' He is looking everywhere for the moment he has imagined since before the campaign began: the moment when his version of Toulon announces itself. The battle is all around him. The moment has not yet come.

Bagration at the Battle

Bagration descends toward the fighting with his party, meeting the wounded coming the other way: a man bleeding from the mouth, another swinging a ruined arm, soldiers in retreat climbing the hill without muskets. He reaches the line where Russian infantry are firing into smoke and cannot see what they are firing at. The regimental commander — a thin, frail-looking old man with kind eyes — rides up and reports in the vocabulary of a man who genuinely does not know what has happened to his regiment. Bagration's face changes. The dull, sleeping-general look drops away and something focused and joyful appears — the expression of a man who has finally reached the water after the running start. He orders two battalions of chasseurs. The colonel pleads with him to go back — it is too dangerous. Bagration ignores him. 'They march beautifully,' someone in his party says, watching the French column advance.

The Left Flank Collapses

The right flank is secured by the Sixth Chasseurs. Tushin's battery in the center has set fire to Schön Grabern and bought time. But the left — the Azov and Podolsk regiments and the Pavlograd hussars — is simultaneously attacked by Lannes's superior forces and outflanked. Bagration sends Zherkov with the order to retreat immediately. Zherkov rides off looking brave, feels his nerve fail as he approaches the danger, and goes looking for the general in places where the general cannot be. The order never arrives. Command of the left flank has two colonels who hate each other; they are quarreling about protocol while their regiments feed horses and gather firewood. Nobody is prepared. The French advance into the gap.

The Rout of the Infantry

One infantryman shouts 'Cut off!' and the word spreads through the regiment like fire through dry grass. The companies pour out of the woods in a mob. Their general, arriving at full gallop through a storm of bullets — terrified not for his life but for his unblemished record — reaches the field as his regiment runs in every direction. He shouts. He waves his saber. His face is unrecognizable with fury and terror. Nothing. The soldiers talk, fire into the air, and keep running. The chapter is Tolstoy at his most precise about the nature of military panic: it is not cowardice in individuals but a collective moral event, a tipping point that passes in a moment and cannot be reversed by individual will once it has passed. The general has led this regiment for twenty-two years without a stain on his record. None of it matters in this field, in this moment.

Captain Tushin's Retreat

The cannon fire fades as darkness comes. Tushin gets his guns out and down into the hollow, where he meets staff officers who blame him for things he had no control over. He rides behind his battery in silence, feeling close to tears without knowing why — the way a person feels after surviving something by holding themselves together, and then discovering when it is over that they are exhausted. The wounded who could not be left behind have clutched at the gun carriages. One of them — the lively young officer who rushed out of Tushin's hut before the battle — is now dying on the gun carriage with a bullet in his stomach. At the foot of the hill a hussar cadet approaches Tushin and asks, timidly, for a seat. He has hurt his arm. He has asked several times and been refused. Tushin gives him a seat. He asks for nothing for himself.

Pierre's Marriage Is Arranged

This chapter opens Volume 1's third book with Prince Vasili operating at full social efficiency. He has secured Pierre's appointment as Gentleman of the Bedchamber, installed him at his Petersburg house, and now moves him toward Hélène with the unhurried inevitability of someone who mistakes habit for principle. Pierre, newly rich and bewildered, signs papers he does not understand, visits offices whose purposes he cannot fathom, and finds himself drawn into the Kuragin orbit by sheer momentum. The chapter establishes the machinery of society — how a brilliant, cynical operator manages a naïve, enormous fortune — and sets up the marriage that will cost Pierre the next several years.

Pierre Falls Into the Trap

Six weeks after he decided he must leave and go away, Pierre is still in the Kuragin house. Tolstoy draws his inability to resist with merciless accuracy: Pierre is only strong when he feels innocent, and since the evening he was first alone with Hélène he no longer feels innocent. The chapter moves toward the moment when Vasili enters the room, takes Pierre's hand, and pronounces them engaged — an act Pierre does not quite consent to and does not quite refuse. The marriage happens to Pierre rather than being chosen by him, which is the first of several catastrophes the novel will trace back to his habit of passive capitulation to social force.

Vasili Brings Anatole to Bald Hills

The scene shifts from Petersburg to Bald Hills as Prince Vasili brings his son Anatole to inspect Princess Mary as a potential wife. Old Prince Bolkonsky — brilliant, tyrannical, already aware of what is being attempted — receives his visitors with the elaborate cold courtesy of a man who has decided not to be polite. The chapter establishes the Bolkonsky household in its full peculiarity: the old general who sets his daughter geometry problems, the little princess Lise who makes clumsy social jokes, Mademoiselle Bourienne the French companion who is already making her own calculations. The marriage market, which has just swallowed Pierre in Petersburg, now opens its jaws toward Mary.

Anatole Arrives at Bald Hills

Vasili and Anatole are installed at Bald Hills and the social machinery of a potential marriage begins its work. The dinner table conversation ranges across Anna Pavlovna's receptions, the little princess's cheerful social glitter, and old Bolkonsky's watchful contempt — all observed by Princess Mary as she tries to read Anatole as a possible husband. What she sees is a handsome man of comfortable, unreflective self-regard who is already exchanging significant glances with Mademoiselle Bourienne. The chapter is a study in how marriage negotiations operate through polite conversation while the real information travels by completely different means.

Mary Sees What Anatole Is

The Bald Hills marriage plot concludes not with a refusal but with a discovery. The night after the dinner, while everyone keeps their own wakeful vigil — Mary praying, Mademoiselle Bourienne weeping theatrically over her imagined romantic future, the little princess complaining about her bed — Princess Mary goes to find Mademoiselle Bourienne and finds her with Anatole instead, in the conservatory, in circumstances that require no explanation. The chapter ends not with a dramatic confrontation but with Princess Mary's characteristic response: she goes to her room, tells no one, decides for herself, and the matter is settled. A better man might have been refused; this one she can simply let go.

Nikolai's Letter from the Front

A domestic interlude at the Rostov house: Nikolai's letter from the army arrives and the household convulses with feeling. Count Rostov, who runs to his study to avoid alarming anyone and then breaks down entirely, is found by Anna Mikhaylovna in the particular state that good news about a child's survival produces in a parent. Sonya and Natasha, who have been embroidering in the sitting room, are soon in tears. The letter is read aloud repeatedly, passed around, and treated as a holy object. The chapter is brief but precise in its observation of how a family processes the military news that in other chapters we are watching from inside.

The Grand Review at Olmütz

The novel shifts back to the army and the ceremonial review of the combined Russian and Austrian forces before Olmütz. The Guards — freshly arrived from Russia, their knapsacks conveyed on carts, their dinners provided by Austrian authorities at every halt — parade their cleanliness in contrast to Kutuzov's veterans. Nikolai, in need of money and eager for experience, rides to visit Boris at the Ismaylov regiment's quarters. The chapter establishes the dual social world of the army on the eve of Austerlitz: the guards and their comfortable camp life, and the exhausted fighting regiments below. Boris, ambitious and calculating, appears here pursuing his own careful path upward through headquarters society.

The Two Emperors Ride Past

The review of the allied army by the two Emperors — Alexander of Russia and Francis of Austria — produces in Nikolai Rostov one of the novel's most carefully analyzed episodes of political emotion. Tolstoy renders Nikolai's feeling for the Tsar with the same attentiveness he gives to Natasha's feeling at the ball: it is enormous, sincere, and somewhat ridiculous, and the ridiculousness does not make it less real. The chapter moves through the mechanics of a grand military review — cavalry, artillery, infantry in their lines, the space like a street between each — to the moment when Alexander rides past and Nikolai, who sees him clearly, is overcome by love of a kind he has felt for no human being.

Boris Calls on Prince Andrei

Boris Drubetskoy's visit to Prince Andrei's quarters at Olmütz is a chapter about social ambition meeting the machinery of headquarters. Boris arrives expecting to be helped by Andrei's friendliness; he finds Andrei conducting the business of an adjutant — dismissing a general with polite contempt, managing the continuous flow of petitioners and messages that the position requires. The chapter is less about any one conversation than about what Boris observes and learns: that in this world, access is power, and power is regulated by precisely the kind of controlled politeness Andrei deploys. Boris, watching and calculating, begins to understand the system he wants to enter.

Schöngrabern: Before the Action

The chapter opens with Denisov's squadron stopped on the road before action, eating and drinking while Cossacks bring in French prisoners and Tolstoy begins his anatomy of how an army actually experiences the proximity of battle. The prisoner episode — a fine French horse, a bewildered dragoon, the casual brutality and casual generosity of soldiers on campaign — establishes the ground-level texture that the subsequent battle chapters will require. Nikolai, who has ridden through Austerlitz's review still burning with devotion to Alexander, is here at the actual work of war, which looks nothing like a review.

Napoleon's Envoy and the Coming Battle

The diplomatic and strategic prologue to Austerlitz: Napoleon's envoy Savary arrives to propose a meeting with Alexander, the offer is refused and Dolgorukov sent instead, and the army begins the advance that will end at Austerlitz. Tolstoy draws the Russian headquarters in the mood of overconfident enthusiasm that the novel will soon correct — the young officers around Alexander convinced that the campaign is going brilliantly, Kutuzov alone quiet and apparently bored. The chapter is the novel's last pause before the battle, and it establishes the gap between the confidence of the planning and the reality of the execution.

The Council of War

The council of war at Kutuzov's quarters the night before Austerlitz is one of Tolstoy's masterpieces of ironic staging. Weyrother — Austrian, energetic, speaking so fast he cannot be interrupted — reads his plan for the battle to the assembled commanders. The plan is elaborate, precise, and based on a map that no longer accurately represents the French positions. Kutuzov falls asleep. The generals listen with varying degrees of skepticism and confusion. Prince Andrei sits in the corner and dreams of the moment when he will seize a standard and lead the army forward — the exact fantasy of personal glory that Austerlitz will tomorrow correct.

Nikolai on Picket Duty Before Austerlitz

The night before Austerlitz, seen from Nikolai Rostov's position on picket duty in front of Bagration's detachment. The chapter is a study in the particular consciousness of a young soldier alone in darkness before a battle: the enormous space of campfires on both sides, the sounds that might be the enemy, the fantasy of seeing the Emperor, the very ordinary physiological struggle against sleepiness that runs through a soldier's vigil as surely as fear does. Tolstoy gives Nikolai's small and specific experience the same attention he gives the council of war — this is the novel's method, the insistence that no position in the army is more or less important than any other as a location for experience.

The Columns Descend into the Fog

Austerlitz begins. The left flank columns descend the heights at five in the morning into a fog so dense that bushes look like trees and level ground like cliffs. The chapter contains one of Tolstoy's essential formulations about the experience of battle: a soldier on the march is hemmed in and borne along by his regiment as much as a sailor is by his ship. Whatever is happening — whatever the generals' plan says, whatever the French are doing on the other side of the fog — the soldier inside the column sees only the backs of the men in front of him and the fog that closes off everything beyond ten paces. This is the epistemological condition of Austerlitz as Tolstoy will render it.

Andrei at the Head of the Column

Prince Andrei rides with Kutuzov at the head of the fourth column, watching the standards of the passing battalions and thinking that one of them is the standard he will carry to glory. The chapter is constructed as a sustained approach to the moment of his wounding — his confidence growing as the column advances, his fantasy of the decisive personal act becoming more specific, the sounds of battle below intensifying. Kutuzov already sees that the plan is failing: he watches the columns descend and grows quieter. Andrei sees the same view and draws the opposite conclusion, because what he is watching is not the battle but his imagination of himself in it.

The French Appear

The battle breaks open. The French, who Weyrother's plan had positioned at a safe distance, appear at close range — suddenly and without warning, as the adjutant reports, looking not at the troops in the distance but at the field right in front of them. The panic this produces at the command level is rendered with the same controlled precision Tolstoy brings to all his battle chapters: not chaos, but the particular experience of intelligent men whose map of reality has suddenly been replaced by a different and worse one. Kutuzov stops, stares, and says nothing. The generals scramble for the field glass. The plan is over.

Nikolai Carries Bagration's Message

Bagration sends Nikolai with a message requesting the order to begin action on the right flank, and what Nikolai finds when he goes looking for Kutuzov and the Emperor is the battle's collapse as experienced from a moving point of view. He rides through the disorganized crowds of what were columns, asks everyone where the Emperor is, gets no answer from anyone, is eventually told that the Tsar was driven away in a carriage an hour ago and is dangerously ill. The battle that was supposed to be a triumph is collapsing around him while he tries to locate the commanders who were meant to be directing it.

Nikolai Finds the Emperor Weeping

The emotional climax of Nikolai's Austerlitz narrative: he finds the Emperor he has been looking for, alone at the edge of a pond, weeping. Nikolai dismounts and approaches, and then cannot go further — the sight of Alexander in tears produces in him the same overwhelming feeling as the review at Olmütz, but mixed now with pity and a kind of protective helplessness. He cannot report to this man; he cannot intrude; he can only watch and feel. The battle has been lost, the Emperor is weeping alone, and Nikolai's adoration has been tested against a reality that has made the Emperor human in a way the review never could.

Andrei Stares at the High Sky

This is one of the great chapters in nineteenth-century fiction. Prince Andrei lies wounded on the Pratzen Heights, bleeding, having done the thing he planned — seized the standard, led the charge — and now lies on the ground looking up at the high, slow sky above the battle. His first thought is: where is it, that lofty sky that I didn't know till now but saw today? And then Napoleon arrives, surveys the battlefield, looks down at Andrei, and says: 'There's a fine death.' Andrei looks at Napoleon and sees — for the first time clearly — that Napoleon is small. Not physically small: small. The sky is the truth; Napoleon's glory is a toy.

Nikolai Returns Home on Leave

Volume 1's fourth book opens with Nikolai Rostov returning home on leave, Denisov traveling with him as far as Moscow, and the approach to the city rendered through Nikolai's accumulating recognition of landmarks — the crossroads where Zakhar has his cab stand, the little shop where they used to buy gingerbread. The excitement of homecoming is registered physically: he leans forward in the sleigh, cannot keep still, is already counting the streets. After Austerlitz and the picket lines and the ride through the collapsing battle, the domestic Moscow return is a tonal shift that Tolstoy makes deliberately and without apology.

Nikolai as Hero of Moscow

Nikolai's leave in Moscow gives Tolstoy the opportunity to show what the military world does to a young man's social position. He is now a hussar lieutenant who has been in actual combat, and Moscow receives him accordingly — by his family as their darling hero, by society as a handsome young officer and excellent dancer. He spends money freely, acquires stylish horses and breeches and boots, tells stories of his experiences that become slightly more heroic with each retelling. His passion for the Emperor has not disappeared but has cooled — he does not see Alexander in Moscow and the feeling requires the Emperor's actual presence to sustain its intensity.

The English Club Dinner for Bagration

The English Club dinner for Prince Bagration — the general who commanded the Schöngrabern rearguard that Nikolai was part of — gives Tolstoy the opportunity to render how Moscow's upper classes process military defeat. Everyone is there: Pierre, fashionably dressed but looking sad and dull since his marriage; Nesvitski as an old member; various political figures discussing Austerlitz through the lens of their existing opinions about Kutuzov and the Austrian staff. The chapter moves through several conversational circles, each with its own version of what the war means, none of them touching what the war actually was.

Pierre Challenges Dolokhov

The dinner moves toward crisis. Pierre has received an anonymous letter suggesting that Dolokhov and Hélène are having an affair; he sits opposite Dolokhov through the Bagration dinner in a state of building tension that erupts when the toast to the Emperor is drunk and he refuses to participate with visible contempt. Nikolai, sitting nearby, shouts at him; Pierre apologizes; and then the toast to Bagration is drunk, and Dolokhov makes a pointed toast to beautiful women and their lovers, looking directly at Pierre, and the evening ends in a challenge. The duel that follows will make Pierre's marriage's failure publicly official.

The Duel in the Snow

The duel between Pierre and Dolokhov in the snow outside Moscow is one of the novel's most unexpected reversals. Dolokhov is an experienced duelist, a man who has been in fights before and who handles a pistol as a professional tool. Pierre has never fought a duel. Yet it is Pierre who wounds Dolokhov — a stomach wound, serious — and Dolokhov who falls in the snow and cannot rise. The scene is rendered with the careful plainness Tolstoy brings to violence: the measured tracks in the snow, the signals, the two men advancing, the shot that comes earlier than expected. The chapter closes with Dolokhov on the ground calling for his mother.

Book Four (1806) — Chapter 6

Book Four (1806) — Chapter 7

Book Four (1806) — Chapter 8

Book Four (1806) — Chapter 9

Book Four (1806) — Chapter 10

Book Four (1806) — Chapter 11

Book Four (1806) — Chapter 12

Book Four (1806) — Chapter 13

Book Four (1806) — Chapter 14

Book Four (1806) — Chapter 15

Book Five (1806 - 07) — Chapter 16

Book Five (1806 - 07) — Chapter 1

Book Five (1806 - 07) — Chapter 2

Book Five (1806 - 07) — Chapter 3

Book Five (1806 - 07) — Chapter 4

Book Five (1806 - 07) — Chapter 5

Book Five (1806 - 07) — Chapter 6

Book Five (1806 - 07) — Chapter 7

Book Five (1806 - 07) — Chapter 8

Book Five (1806 - 07) — Chapter 9

Book Five (1806 - 07) — Chapter 10

Book Five (1806 - 07) — Chapter 11

Book Five (1806 - 07) — Chapter 12

Book Five (1806 - 07) — Chapter 13

Book Five (1806–07) — Chapter 14

Book Five (1806–07) — Chapter 15

Book Five (1806–07) — Chapter 16

Book Five (1806–07) — Chapter 17

Book Five (1806–07) — Chapter 18

Book Five (1806–07) — Chapter 19

Book Five (1806–07) — Chapter 20

Book Five (1806–07) — Chapter 21

Book Six (1808–10) — Chapter 22

Book Six (1808–10) — Chapter 1

Book Six (1808–10) — Chapter 2

Book Six (1808–10) — Chapter 3

Book Six (1808–10) — Chapter 4

Book Six (1808–10) — Chapter 5

Book Six (1808–10) — Chapter 6

Book Six (1808–10) — Chapter 7

Book Six (1808–10) — Chapter 8

Book Six (1808–10) — Chapter 9

Book Six (1808–10) — Chapter 10

Book Six (1808–10) — Chapter 11

Book Six (1808–10) — Chapter 12

Book Six (1808–10) — Chapter 13

Book Six (1808–10) — Chapter 14

Book Six (1808–10) — Chapter 15

Book Six (1808 - 10) — Chapter 16

Book Six (1808 - 10) — Chapter 17

Book Six (1808 - 10) — Chapter 18

Book Six (1808 - 10) — Chapter 19

Book Six (1808 - 10) — Chapter 20

Book Six (1808 - 10) — Chapter 21

Book Six (1808 - 10) — Chapter 22

Book Six (1808 - 10) — Chapter 23

Book Six (1808 - 10) — Chapter 24

Book Six (1808 - 10) — Chapter 25

Book Seven (1810 - 11) — Chapter 26

Book Seven (1810 - 11) — Chapter 1

Book Seven (1810 - 11) — Chapter 2

Book Seven (1810 - 11) — Chapter 3

Book Seven (1810 - 11) — Chapter 4

Book Seven (1810 - 11) — Chapter 5

Book Seven (1810 - 11) — Chapter 6

Book Seven (1810 - 11) — Chapter 7

Book Seven (1810 - 11) — Chapter 8

Book Seven (1810 - 11) — Chapter 9

Book Seven (1810 - 11) — Chapter 10

Book Seven (1810 - 11) — Chapter 11

Book Seven (1810 - 11) — Chapter 12

Book Eight (1811 - 12) — Chapter 13

Book Eight (1811–12) — Chapter 1

Book Eight (1811–12) — Chapter 2

Book Eight (1811–12) — Chapter 3

Book Eight (1811–12) — Chapter 4

Book Eight (1811–12) — Chapter 5

Book Eight (1811–12) — Chapter 6

Book Eight (1811–12) — Chapter 7

Book Eight (1811–12) — Chapter 8

Book Eight (1811–12) — Chapter 9

Book Eight (1811–12) — Chapter 10

Book Eight (1811–12) — Chapter 11

Book Eight (1811–12) — Chapter 12

Book Eight (1811–12) — Chapter 13

Book Eight (1811–12) — Chapter 14

Book Eight (1811–12) — Chapter 15

Book Eight (1811–12) — Chapter 16

Book Eight (1811–12) — Chapter 17

Book Eight (1811–12) — Chapter 18

Book Eight (1811–12) — Chapter 19

Book Eight (1811–12) — Chapter 20

Book Eight (1811–12) — Chapter 21

Book Nine (1812) — Chapter 22

Book Nine (1812) — Chapter 1

Book Nine (1812) — Chapter 2

Book Nine (1812) — Chapter 3

Book Nine (1812) — Chapter 4

Book Nine (1812) — Chapter 5

Book Nine (1812) — Chapter 6

Book Nine (1812) — Chapter 7

Book Nine (1812) — Chapter 8

Book Nine (1812) — Chapter 9

Book Nine (1812) — Chapter 10

Book Nine (1812) — Chapter 11

Book Nine (1812) — Chapter 12

Book Nine (1812) — Chapter 13

Book Nine (1812) — Chapter 14

Book Nine (1812) — Chapter 15

Book Nine (1812) — Chapter 16

Book Nine (1812) — Chapter 17

Book Nine (1812) — Chapter 18

Book Nine (1812) — Chapter 19

Book Nine (1812) — Chapter 20

Book Nine (1812) — Chapter 21

Book Nine (1812) — Chapter 22

Book Nine (1812) — Chapter 23

Book Ten (1812) — Chapter 1

Book Ten (1812) — Chapter 2

Book Ten (1812) — Chapter 3

Book Ten (1812) — Chapter 4

Book Ten (1812) — Chapter 5

Book Ten (1812) — Chapter 6

Book Ten (1812) — Chapter 7

Book Ten (1812) — Chapter 8

Book Ten (1812) — Chapter 9

Book Ten (1812) — Chapter 10

Book Ten (1812) — Chapter 11

Book Ten (1812) — Chapter 12

Book Ten (1812) — Chapter 13

Book Ten (1812) — Chapter 14

Book Ten (1812) — Chapter 15

Book Ten (1812) — Chapter 16

Book Ten (1812) — Chapter 17

Book Ten (1812) — Chapter 18

Book Ten (1812) — Chapter 19

Book Ten (1812) — Chapter 20

Book Ten (1812) — Chapter 21

Book Ten (1812) — Chapter 22

Book Ten (1812) — Chapter 23

Book Ten (1812) — Chapter 24

Book Ten (1812) — Chapter 25

Book Ten (1812) — Chapter 26

Book Ten (1812) — Chapter 27

Book Ten (1812) — Chapter 28

Book Ten (1812) — Chapter 29

Book Ten (1812) — Chapter 30

Book Ten (1812) — Chapter 31

Book Ten (1812) — Chapter 32

Book Ten (1812) — Chapter 33

Book Ten (1812) — Chapter 34

Book Ten (1812) — Chapter 35

Book Ten (1812) — Chapter 36

Book Ten (1812) — Chapter 37

Book Ten (1812) — Chapter 38

Book Eleven (1812) — Chapter 39

Book Eleven (1812) — Chapter 1

Book Eleven (1812) — Chapter 2

Book Eleven (1812) — Chapter 3

Book Eleven (1812) — Chapter 4

Book Eleven (1812) — Chapter 5

Book Eleven (1812) — Chapter 6

Book Eleven (1812) — Chapter 7

Book Eleven (1812) — Chapter 8

Book Eleven (1812) — Chapter 9

Book Eleven (1812) — Chapter 10

Book Eleven (1812) — Chapter 11

Book Eleven (1812) — Chapter 12

Book Eleven (1812) — Chapter 13

Book Eleven (1812) — Chapter 14

Book Eleven (1812) — Chapter 15

Book Eleven (1812) — Chapter 16

Book Eleven (1812) — Chapter 17

Book Eleven (1812) — Chapter 18

Book Eleven (1812) — Chapter 19

Book Eleven (1812) — Chapter 20

Book Eleven (1812) — Chapter 21

Book Eleven (1812) — Chapter 22

Book Eleven (1812) — Chapter 23

Book Eleven (1812) — Chapter 24

Book Eleven (1812) — Chapter 25

Book Eleven (1812) — Chapter 26

Book Eleven (1812) — Chapter 27

Book Eleven (1812) — Chapter 28

Book Eleven (1812) — Chapter 29

Book Eleven (1812) — Chapter 30

Book Eleven (1812) — Chapter 31

Book Eleven (1812) — Chapter 32

Book Eleven (1812) — Chapter 33

Book Twelve (1812) — Chapter 34

Book Twelve (1812) — Chapter 1

Book Twelve (1812) — Chapter 2

Book Twelve (1812) — Chapter 3

Book Twelve (1812) — Chapter 4

Book Twelve (1812) — Chapter 5

Book Twelve (1812) — Chapter 6

Book Twelve (1812) — Chapter 7

Book Twelve (1812) — Chapter 8

Book Twelve (1812) — Chapter 9

Book Twelve (1812) — Chapter 10

Book Twelve (1812) — Chapter 11

Book Twelve (1812) — Chapter 12

Book Twelve (1812) — Chapter 13

Book Twelve (1812) — Chapter 14

Book Twelve (1812) — Chapter 15

Book Thirteen (1812) — Chapter 16

Book Thirteen (1812) — Chapter 1

Book Thirteen (1812) — Chapter 2

Book Thirteen (1812) — Chapter 3

Book Thirteen (1812) — Chapter 4

Book Thirteen (1812) — Chapter 5

Book Thirteen (1812) — Chapter 6

Book Thirteen (1812) — Chapter 7

Book Thirteen (1812) — Chapter 8

Book Thirteen (1812) — Chapter 9

Book Thirteen (1812) — Chapter 10

Book Thirteen (1812) — Chapter 11

Book Thirteen (1812) — Chapter 12

Book Thirteen (1812) — Chapter 13

Book Thirteen (1812) — Chapter 14

Book Thirteen (1812) — Chapter 15

Book Thirteen (1812) — Chapter 16

Book Thirteen (1812) — Chapter 17

Book Thirteen (1812) — Chapter 18

Book Fourteen (1812) — Chapter 19

Book Fourteen (1812) — Chapter 1

Book Fourteen (1812) — Chapter 2

Book Fourteen (1812) — Chapter 3

Book Fourteen (1812) — Chapter 4

Book Fourteen (1812) — Chapter 5

Book Fourteen (1812) — Chapter 6

Book Fourteen (1812) — Chapter 7

Book Fourteen (1812) — Chapter 8

Book Fourteen (1812) — Chapter 9

Book Fourteen (1812) — Chapter 10

Book Fourteen (1812) — Chapter 11

Book Fourteen (1812) — Chapter 12

Book Fourteen (1812) — Chapter 13

Book Fourteen (1812) — Chapter 14

Book Fourteen (1812) — Chapter 15

Book Fourteen (1812) — Chapter 16

Book Fourteen (1812) — Chapter 17

Book Fourteen (1812) — Chapter 18

Book Fifteen (1812 - 13) — Chapter 19

Book Fifteen (1812 - 13) — Chapter 1

Book Fifteen (1812 - 13) — Chapter 2

Book Fifteen (1812 - 13) — Chapter 3

Book Fifteen (1812 - 13) — Chapter 4

Book Fifteen (1812 - 13) — Chapter 5

Book Fifteen (1812 - 13) — Chapter 6

Book Fifteen (1812 - 13) — Chapter 7

Book Fifteen (1812 - 13) — Chapter 8

Book Fifteen (1812 - 13) — Chapter 9

Book Fifteen (1812 - 13) — Chapter 10

Book Fifteen (1812 - 13) — Chapter 11

Book Fifteen (1812 - 13) — Chapter 12

Book Fifteen (1812 - 13) — Chapter 13

Book Fifteen (1812 - 13) — Chapter 14

Book Fifteen (1812 - 13) — Chapter 15

Book Fifteen (1812 - 13) — Chapter 16

Book Fifteen (1812 - 13) — Chapter 17

Book Fifteen (1812 - 13) — Chapter 18

Book Fifteen (1812 - 13) — Chapter 19

First Epilogue (1813 - 20) — Chapter 20

First Epilogue (1813 - 20) — Chapter 1

First Epilogue (1813 - 20) — Chapter 2

First Epilogue (1813 - 20) — Chapter 3

First Epilogue (1813 - 20) — Chapter 4

First Epilogue (1813 - 20) — Chapter 5

First Epilogue (1813–20) — Chapter 6

First Epilogue (1813–20) — Chapter 7

First Epilogue (1813–20) — Chapter 8

First Epilogue (1813–20) — Chapter 9

First Epilogue (1813–20) — Chapter 10

First Epilogue (1813–20) — Chapter 11

First Epilogue (1813–20) — Chapter 12

First Epilogue (1813–20) — Chapter 13

First Epilogue (1813–20) — Chapter 14

First Epilogue (1813–20) — Chapter 15

Second Epilogue — Chapter 1

Second Epilogue — Chapter 2

Second Epilogue — Chapter 3

Second Epilogue — Chapter 4

Second Epilogue — Chapter 5

Second Epilogue — Chapter 6

Second Epilogue — Chapter 7

Second Epilogue — Chapter 8

Second Epilogue — Chapter 9

Second Epilogue — Chapter 10

Second Epilogue — Chapter 11

Second Epilogue — Chapter 12

Second Epilogue — Chapter 13