Chapter Summaries: Dole: Ready for action. Nikolai in the reserve. The emperor again. Skirmish at Wischau. The emperor inspects the field. The supper. Nikolai's toast.
Briggs: "Nikolay remains ecstatically inspired by the Emperor."
Maude: Nicholas not in the action at Wischau. The Emperor. Nicholas's devotion to him
Pevear and Volkhonsky: Nikolai out of the action at Wischau. He sees the emperor Alexander again.
Translation:
X. On the dawn of the 16th the squadron of Denisov, in which served Nikolay Rostov, and which was in the detachment of Prince Bagration, moved from overnight stay to business, as was said, and, having passed about a verst behind the other columns, was stopped on the big road. Rostov saw, as passing ahead of him were the Cossacks, the 1st and 2nd squadrons of the hussars, infantry battalions with artillery and the driving through generals Bagration and Dolgorukov with their adjutants. All the fear, which he, as before, felt before the business; all internal fight, through which he overcame this fear; all his daydreaming about how he as a hussar was distinguished in this case, — was gone for nothing. Their squadron was left in reserve, and Nikolay Rostov was bored and drearily spent this day. In the 9th hour of the morning he heard firing ahead of himself, the shouting of hoorah, saw the brought backwards wounded (theirs was little) and, finally, saw how in the middle of hundreds of Cossacks held a whole detachment of French cavalrymen. Obviously, the business was over, and the business was, obviously, not large, but happy. The passing backwards soldiers and officers told about the brilliant victory, about the occupation of the cities Vyskov and the taking into captivity a whole French squadron. The day was clear, sunny, after a strong night frost, and the merry shine of the autumn day coincided with the news about victory, which was delivered not only in the stories by those involved in it, but also in the joyful expression in the soldiers, officers, generals and adjutants traveling here and there past Rostov. By this painful pinching of the heart of Nikolay, in vain suffering all the fear preceding the battle, stayed this merry day in inaction. — Rostov, go here, drink with grief! — shouted Denisov, sitting down at the edge of the road before a flask and snacks. The officers gathered in a circle, having a bite and talking, about Denisov’s travel chest. — Here is still another led! — said one of the officers, pointing to a captive French dragoon, who was led on foot by two Cossacks. One of them led about them a taken in captivity tall and beautiful French horse. — Sell the horse! — shouted Denisov at the Cossack. — Dearly, your nobleness... The officers got up and surrounded the Cossacks and the captive Frenchman. The French dragoon was a young, little Alsatian, speaking French with a German accent. He was gasping for breath from excitement, his face was red, and, upon hearing the French tongue, he quickly began talking with the officers, turning that and to that, that and to another. He spoke how he would not be taken; that he was not to blame in that he was taken, but blamed le caporal (the corporal) who sent him to seize blankets, that he told him that now the Russians were there. And to every word he added: pity my horse then,371 and caressed his horse. It was seen that he did not understand very well where he was. He so excused that he was taken, that, assuming himself before his superiors, showed his soldierly serviceability and cared about service. He denounced himself in our rearguard in the freshness of the atmosphere throughout the French troops, which was so alien for us. The Cossacks gave for the horse twenty roubles, and Rostov, now, receiving the money, the most rich of the officers, bought it. — But pity the horse!372 — good-naturedly the alsatian said to Rostov, when the horse was delivered to the hussar. Rostov, smiling, calmed the dragoon and gave him money. — Hello, Hello! — said the Cossack, touching behind the arm of the captive, for he was walking farther. — The sovereign! The sovereign! — was suddenly heard between the hussars. All ran, hastening, and Rostov saw back by the road a few riders with white sultan hats. In one moment all were in places and waiting. Rostov did not remember and did not feel how he ran to his place and sat down on his horse. Instantly passed his regret about non-participation in the business, his everyday spirit in the circles of peers, instantly disappeared any idea about himself: he was all absorbed by the feeling of happiness happening from the proximity of the sovereign. He felt himself that this one proximity rewarded him for the loss of the day. He was as happy as a lover waiting for an expected date. Not daring to look to the front and not looking back, he felt the enthusiastic instinct of his approximation. And he felt this not only in the sound of horse hooves in the approaching cavalcade, but he felt this because of how, by the least of approximations, all was lighter, more joyful and more significant and festive around him. All nearer and nearer moved this sun for Rostov, spreading around himself rays of meek and stately light, and here he now felt himself captured in these rays, he heard his voice — this affectionate, calm and majesty that so searched his voice. And so it must have been by feeling for Rostov, becoming dead in peace and quiet, and in this silence was heard the sounds of the voice of the sovereign. — The Pavlograd hussars?373 — he interrogatively said. — The reserve, your majesty!374 — was the response of the voice, so human after this inhuman voice which said: Les huzards de Pavlograd? (The Pavlograd hussars?) The sovereign was equal with Rostov and stopped. The face of Aleksandr was more beautiful than it looked three day backwards. It shone such cheerfulness and youthfulness, such innocent youthfulness, that it reminded one of a child of fourteen’s agility, and together with that was this same face of the stately emperor. Accidentally looking around the squadron, the eye of the sovereign met with the eyes of Rostov and not more as in two seconds stopped at them. If only the sovereign got what was in the soul of Rostov (to Rostov it seemed that he got everything), but for two seconds he looked with his own blue eyes at the face of Rostov. (softly and meekly light poured from them.) Then suddenly he raised his eyebrows, and with a sharp movement stroked his left foot to his horse and galloped forward. The young emperor could not abstain from the willingness of presence in the battle and, despite all the presentation of the courtiers, at 12, separated from the 3rd column, in which he followed, galloping to the advance guard. Still not riding as far as to the hussars, a few adjutants met him with the news about the happy ending of the affairs. The battle, held only in what occupied a squadron of the French, was presented as a brilliant victory above the French, and because the sovereign and all his army, especially while not broken up still by gunpowder smoke in the field of battle, believed that the French were defeated and retreated against their commitment. A few minutes after the sovereign drove the division of Pavlograds demanded forward. In Vyskov, a small German town, Rostov still another time saw the sovereign. In the square of the city, in which before the arrival of the sovereign was quite a strong skirmish, lay a few people slain and wounded, which were not picked up in time. The sovereign, surrounded by a suite of military and non-military, was on a ginger, already a different looking one, angled mare and, bowing to the side, with a graceful gesture held a golden lorgnette to his eye, watching a lying face down, without shako, bloodied head soldier. The wounded soldier was so unclean, rude and nasty that Rostov was insulted by his closeness to the sovereign. Rostov saw the, as shuddering as if from running through a frost, stooped shoulders of the sovereign, as his left foot frantically began beating the spur to the side of the horse, and as accustomed the horse indifferently looked around and did not start off from the place. Getting down from his horse, an adjutant took the hand of the soldier and began to place him on an appeared stretcher. The soldier groaned. — Hush, hush, can’t you hush? — apparently, more suffering than the dying soldier, spoke the sovereign and drove off. Rostov saw tears filling the eyes of the sovereign, and heard as he, driving off, in French said to Chartorizhsky: — How terrible of a thing is war, how terrible a thing! Quelle Au terrible chose que la guerre! The troops of the advance guard settled down ahead Vyskov, in view of the rows of the enemy, inferior to our place at the slightest shootout in the continuation of the day. The advance guard was declared in gratitude of the sovereign, promised awards, and people distributed a double portion of vodka. Still more fun than in the past night, bivouac fires cracked and soldier songs were heard. Denisov on this night celebrated the proceedings with the majors, and Rostov, now quite drunk, at the end of revels proposed a toast for the health of the sovereign, but "not the sovereign-emperor, as was spoken in official dinners, — he said, — but for the health of the sovereign, a good, charming and great human; drink for his health and for true victory above the French!" — If we before fought, — he said, — and not gave the descent to the French, as under Schongraben, what the same will we now do, when he is ahead? We all are to be dead, with enjoyment be dead for him. So, gentleman? Maybe, I should not speak so, I have drunk much; and I feel so, and you too. For the health of Aleksandr the First! Hooorah! — Hooorah! — sounded the encouraged voice of the officers. And old Captain Kirsten shouted enthusiastically, and not less sincerely than the twenty year old Rostov. When the officers drank and pitched their glasses, Kirsten poured another and, in only shirt and leggings, with a glass in hand came up to the soldiers’ bonfires and in a stately pose waved up his hand, with his own long gray-haired mustache, white breast, visible from behind the burst open shirt, stopped in the light of the bonfire. — Guys, for the health of the sovereign-emperor, for victory above the enemies, Hooorah! — he shouted in his well done, senile, hussar baritone. The hussars crowded and friendly answered the loud screaming. Late at night, when all dispersed, Denisov patted his short hand on the shoulder of his favorite Rostov. — Here on the campaign there is not whom to fall in love, so he with the tsar fell in love, — he said. — Denisov, this is not a joke for you, — shouted Rostov, — this is such a high, such a beautiful feeling, such... — Believe, believe, my friend, and I share and approve... — No, you do not understand! And Rostov got up and went to wander between the bonfires, dreaming about what would be the happiness of death, not saving the life (about this he did not dare to dream), but simply to die in the eyes of the sovereign. He really was in love with the tsar, and at the glory of the Russian weapons, and in the hopes of future celebrations. And he was not alone in this feeling on this memorable day, preceding the battle of Austerlitz: nine tenths of the people in the Russian army at that time were in love, although less enthusiastically, with their tsar and at the glory of the Russian weapons. 371. mais qu’on ne fasse pas de mal à mon petit cheval (but that you do no harm to my little horse) 372. Mais qu’on ne fasse pas de mal à mon petit cheval, (But that you do no harm to my little horse) 373. Les huzards de Pavlograd? (The hussars of Pavlograd?) 374. La réserve, sire! (The reserve, sir!)
Time: at the dawn of the 16th (twenty-eighth in Dole). nine o'clock
Locations: see previous chapter, then later Wischau
Mentioned: French, Alsatian, German, Russian, Schongraben, Austerlitz
Pevear and Volkhonsky Notes: Bagration and Dolgorukov connection, connecting the Andrei and Rostov sections of the stories yet again. Rostov is kept in reserve and feels “bored and melancholy”. The action is successful, but he isn’t a part of it. The day is bright rather than the smoky drear we saw in the battlefield and it is connected to the idea of victory.
Briggs: "Nikolay remains ecstatically inspired by the Emperor."
Maude: Nicholas not in the action at Wischau. The Emperor. Nicholas's devotion to him
Pevear and Volkhonsky: Nikolai out of the action at Wischau. He sees the emperor Alexander again.
Translation:
X. On the dawn of the 16th the squadron of Denisov, in which served Nikolay Rostov, and which was in the detachment of Prince Bagration, moved from overnight stay to business, as was said, and, having passed about a verst behind the other columns, was stopped on the big road. Rostov saw, as passing ahead of him were the Cossacks, the 1st and 2nd squadrons of the hussars, infantry battalions with artillery and the driving through generals Bagration and Dolgorukov with their adjutants. All the fear, which he, as before, felt before the business; all internal fight, through which he overcame this fear; all his daydreaming about how he as a hussar was distinguished in this case, — was gone for nothing. Their squadron was left in reserve, and Nikolay Rostov was bored and drearily spent this day. In the 9th hour of the morning he heard firing ahead of himself, the shouting of hoorah, saw the brought backwards wounded (theirs was little) and, finally, saw how in the middle of hundreds of Cossacks held a whole detachment of French cavalrymen. Obviously, the business was over, and the business was, obviously, not large, but happy. The passing backwards soldiers and officers told about the brilliant victory, about the occupation of the cities Vyskov and the taking into captivity a whole French squadron. The day was clear, sunny, after a strong night frost, and the merry shine of the autumn day coincided with the news about victory, which was delivered not only in the stories by those involved in it, but also in the joyful expression in the soldiers, officers, generals and adjutants traveling here and there past Rostov. By this painful pinching of the heart of Nikolay, in vain suffering all the fear preceding the battle, stayed this merry day in inaction. — Rostov, go here, drink with grief! — shouted Denisov, sitting down at the edge of the road before a flask and snacks. The officers gathered in a circle, having a bite and talking, about Denisov’s travel chest. — Here is still another led! — said one of the officers, pointing to a captive French dragoon, who was led on foot by two Cossacks. One of them led about them a taken in captivity tall and beautiful French horse. — Sell the horse! — shouted Denisov at the Cossack. — Dearly, your nobleness... The officers got up and surrounded the Cossacks and the captive Frenchman. The French dragoon was a young, little Alsatian, speaking French with a German accent. He was gasping for breath from excitement, his face was red, and, upon hearing the French tongue, he quickly began talking with the officers, turning that and to that, that and to another. He spoke how he would not be taken; that he was not to blame in that he was taken, but blamed le caporal (the corporal) who sent him to seize blankets, that he told him that now the Russians were there. And to every word he added: pity my horse then,371 and caressed his horse. It was seen that he did not understand very well where he was. He so excused that he was taken, that, assuming himself before his superiors, showed his soldierly serviceability and cared about service. He denounced himself in our rearguard in the freshness of the atmosphere throughout the French troops, which was so alien for us. The Cossacks gave for the horse twenty roubles, and Rostov, now, receiving the money, the most rich of the officers, bought it. — But pity the horse!372 — good-naturedly the alsatian said to Rostov, when the horse was delivered to the hussar. Rostov, smiling, calmed the dragoon and gave him money. — Hello, Hello! — said the Cossack, touching behind the arm of the captive, for he was walking farther. — The sovereign! The sovereign! — was suddenly heard between the hussars. All ran, hastening, and Rostov saw back by the road a few riders with white sultan hats. In one moment all were in places and waiting. Rostov did not remember and did not feel how he ran to his place and sat down on his horse. Instantly passed his regret about non-participation in the business, his everyday spirit in the circles of peers, instantly disappeared any idea about himself: he was all absorbed by the feeling of happiness happening from the proximity of the sovereign. He felt himself that this one proximity rewarded him for the loss of the day. He was as happy as a lover waiting for an expected date. Not daring to look to the front and not looking back, he felt the enthusiastic instinct of his approximation. And he felt this not only in the sound of horse hooves in the approaching cavalcade, but he felt this because of how, by the least of approximations, all was lighter, more joyful and more significant and festive around him. All nearer and nearer moved this sun for Rostov, spreading around himself rays of meek and stately light, and here he now felt himself captured in these rays, he heard his voice — this affectionate, calm and majesty that so searched his voice. And so it must have been by feeling for Rostov, becoming dead in peace and quiet, and in this silence was heard the sounds of the voice of the sovereign. — The Pavlograd hussars?373 — he interrogatively said. — The reserve, your majesty!374 — was the response of the voice, so human after this inhuman voice which said: Les huzards de Pavlograd? (The Pavlograd hussars?) The sovereign was equal with Rostov and stopped. The face of Aleksandr was more beautiful than it looked three day backwards. It shone such cheerfulness and youthfulness, such innocent youthfulness, that it reminded one of a child of fourteen’s agility, and together with that was this same face of the stately emperor. Accidentally looking around the squadron, the eye of the sovereign met with the eyes of Rostov and not more as in two seconds stopped at them. If only the sovereign got what was in the soul of Rostov (to Rostov it seemed that he got everything), but for two seconds he looked with his own blue eyes at the face of Rostov. (softly and meekly light poured from them.) Then suddenly he raised his eyebrows, and with a sharp movement stroked his left foot to his horse and galloped forward. The young emperor could not abstain from the willingness of presence in the battle and, despite all the presentation of the courtiers, at 12, separated from the 3rd column, in which he followed, galloping to the advance guard. Still not riding as far as to the hussars, a few adjutants met him with the news about the happy ending of the affairs. The battle, held only in what occupied a squadron of the French, was presented as a brilliant victory above the French, and because the sovereign and all his army, especially while not broken up still by gunpowder smoke in the field of battle, believed that the French were defeated and retreated against their commitment. A few minutes after the sovereign drove the division of Pavlograds demanded forward. In Vyskov, a small German town, Rostov still another time saw the sovereign. In the square of the city, in which before the arrival of the sovereign was quite a strong skirmish, lay a few people slain and wounded, which were not picked up in time. The sovereign, surrounded by a suite of military and non-military, was on a ginger, already a different looking one, angled mare and, bowing to the side, with a graceful gesture held a golden lorgnette to his eye, watching a lying face down, without shako, bloodied head soldier. The wounded soldier was so unclean, rude and nasty that Rostov was insulted by his closeness to the sovereign. Rostov saw the, as shuddering as if from running through a frost, stooped shoulders of the sovereign, as his left foot frantically began beating the spur to the side of the horse, and as accustomed the horse indifferently looked around and did not start off from the place. Getting down from his horse, an adjutant took the hand of the soldier and began to place him on an appeared stretcher. The soldier groaned. — Hush, hush, can’t you hush? — apparently, more suffering than the dying soldier, spoke the sovereign and drove off. Rostov saw tears filling the eyes of the sovereign, and heard as he, driving off, in French said to Chartorizhsky: — How terrible of a thing is war, how terrible a thing! Quelle Au terrible chose que la guerre! The troops of the advance guard settled down ahead Vyskov, in view of the rows of the enemy, inferior to our place at the slightest shootout in the continuation of the day. The advance guard was declared in gratitude of the sovereign, promised awards, and people distributed a double portion of vodka. Still more fun than in the past night, bivouac fires cracked and soldier songs were heard. Denisov on this night celebrated the proceedings with the majors, and Rostov, now quite drunk, at the end of revels proposed a toast for the health of the sovereign, but "not the sovereign-emperor, as was spoken in official dinners, — he said, — but for the health of the sovereign, a good, charming and great human; drink for his health and for true victory above the French!" — If we before fought, — he said, — and not gave the descent to the French, as under Schongraben, what the same will we now do, when he is ahead? We all are to be dead, with enjoyment be dead for him. So, gentleman? Maybe, I should not speak so, I have drunk much; and I feel so, and you too. For the health of Aleksandr the First! Hooorah! — Hooorah! — sounded the encouraged voice of the officers. And old Captain Kirsten shouted enthusiastically, and not less sincerely than the twenty year old Rostov. When the officers drank and pitched their glasses, Kirsten poured another and, in only shirt and leggings, with a glass in hand came up to the soldiers’ bonfires and in a stately pose waved up his hand, with his own long gray-haired mustache, white breast, visible from behind the burst open shirt, stopped in the light of the bonfire. — Guys, for the health of the sovereign-emperor, for victory above the enemies, Hooorah! — he shouted in his well done, senile, hussar baritone. The hussars crowded and friendly answered the loud screaming. Late at night, when all dispersed, Denisov patted his short hand on the shoulder of his favorite Rostov. — Here on the campaign there is not whom to fall in love, so he with the tsar fell in love, — he said. — Denisov, this is not a joke for you, — shouted Rostov, — this is such a high, such a beautiful feeling, such... — Believe, believe, my friend, and I share and approve... — No, you do not understand! And Rostov got up and went to wander between the bonfires, dreaming about what would be the happiness of death, not saving the life (about this he did not dare to dream), but simply to die in the eyes of the sovereign. He really was in love with the tsar, and at the glory of the Russian weapons, and in the hopes of future celebrations. And he was not alone in this feeling on this memorable day, preceding the battle of Austerlitz: nine tenths of the people in the Russian army at that time were in love, although less enthusiastically, with their tsar and at the glory of the Russian weapons. 371. mais qu’on ne fasse pas de mal à mon petit cheval (but that you do no harm to my little horse) 372. Mais qu’on ne fasse pas de mal à mon petit cheval, (But that you do no harm to my little horse) 373. Les huzards de Pavlograd? (The hussars of Pavlograd?) 374. La réserve, sire! (The reserve, sir!)
Locations: see previous chapter, then later Wischau
Mentioned: French, Alsatian, German, Russian, Schongraben, Austerlitz
Pevear and Volkhonsky Notes: Bagration and Dolgorukov connection, connecting the Andrei and Rostov sections of the stories yet again. Rostov is kept in reserve and feels “bored and melancholy”. The action is successful, but he isn’t a part of it. The day is bright rather than the smoky drear we saw in the battlefield and it is connected to the idea of victory.
The captured French man who is confused and obviously loyal. Tolstoy contrasts the French “freshness to “us”.
Rostov buys the horse but all this disappears. In fact, Rostov as a character quickly morphs and disappears into something else when there is news of Alexander coming. Alexander is described here as kind of boyish, as like a
“fourteen-year-old”.
“fourteen-year-old”.
“The young emperor could not restrain his desire to be present at the battle”
Everything isn’t as it seems, there is more confusion about what is going on, about the size of the captured French. Probably notable that Alexander is on a different horse than he was for the review since Tolstoy has put so
much emphasis on horses.
much emphasis on horses.
Here Alexander sees the horrors of war and seems a little disturbed by them. “What a terrible thing war is, what a terrible thing!”
“And old Captain Kirsten shouted enthusiastically and no less sincerely than the twenty-year-old Rostov” Rostov has literally fallen in love with Alexander: “this is such a lofty, such a beautiful feeling,” and he believes his feeling
is unique, that Denisov does not share it. He wants to die for Alexander, wants to die in front of him. The ending of the chapter:
is unique, that Denisov does not share it. He wants to die for Alexander, wants to die in front of him. The ending of the chapter:
“He was indeed in love with the tsar, and with the glory of Russian arms, and with the hope of the future triumph. And he was not the only one who experienced that feeling in those memorable days preceding the battle of
Austerlitz: nine tenths of the men in the Russian army were then in love, though less rapturously, with their tsar and with the glory of Russian arms.”
Austerlitz: nine tenths of the men in the Russian army were then in love, though less rapturously, with their tsar and with the glory of Russian arms.”
Characters (characters who do not appear, but are mentioned are placed in italics. First appearances are in Bold. First mentions are underlined. Final appearance denoted by *):
Denisof
Nikolai Rostof
Prince Bagration
Dolgorukof
French Dragoon (who is captured, also his horse plays a role in the chapter. Also called “the Alsatian”)
Le caporal (“the corporal” the dragoon blames)
Czar Alexander (“the emperor”, “sovereign”, for the second chapter in a row he is obliquely referenced to as “the sun”, by Prince Andrei in last chapter, the narration while following Rostof in this chapter. Also “gosudar-imperator” or
“Sovereign the Emperor”, and “Alexander the First”. Also “Tsar”)
“Sovereign the Emperor”, and “Alexander the First”. Also “Tsar”)
Czartorisky
Captain Kirsten
(cossacks, hussars, generals, adjutants, soldiers, etc. A particularly notable one is the wounded soldier in front of Alexander. )
Abridged Versions: Line break in Bell.
Gibian: Chapter 9
Gibian: Chapter 9
Fuller: Chapter seems preserved.
Komroff: The whole French dragoon episode is removed. The Alexander episode is shortened, he doesn’t see the wounded man or really do anything in the chapter other than appear. The Denisof and Rostof conversation at the
end of the chapter is removed as well as the final thoughts of the chapter Tolstoy gives.
end of the chapter is removed as well as the final thoughts of the chapter Tolstoy gives.
Kropotkin: Chapter 8: Rostof’s frustration at the beginning of the chapter is shortened. The horse and dragoon episode is shortened.
Bromfield: Chapter 8 is a chapter that is not in the standard version. It gives us five generals not found thus far in the standard version and gives us the perspective of the soldiers marching: “Although no one, apart from the top
commanders, knew where the army was headed and why, they were all glad to be on the march after the idleness of camp at Olmutz.”
commanders, knew where the army was headed and why, they were all glad to be on the march after the idleness of camp at Olmutz.”
Dolgorukov talks to Weierother, who says “This business can only be decided by the will of Their Majesties.”
End of chapter: “The Emperor Alexander submitted with a sigh to the representations of his retinue and decided to remain with the third column.
Chapter 9: This chapter plays out the same.
Simmons: Chapter 9: entire chapter is cut and replaced by "Failure of the Pavlograd hussars to participate in the small victorious action at Wischau depresses Nicholas Rostov, but the unexpected appearance of Emperor
Alexander turns his gloom into delight."
Simmons: Chapter 9: entire chapter is cut and replaced by "Failure of the Pavlograd hussars to participate in the small victorious action at Wischau depresses Nicholas Rostov, but the unexpected appearance of Emperor
Alexander turns his gloom into delight."
Additional Notes:
Rey: Page 167: "Only Adam Czartoryski in the entourage of Alexander, did not support the warlike enthusiasm of the young officers, and the fact that the emperor had taken the head of the coalition troops appeared to him to be
dangerous, but the Polish prince, whose relations with Alexander were strained since he had gone to Berlin, was also being marginalized."
An Examination of Free Will in Tolstoy’s War and Peace by Irina Itriyeva: as War and Peace progresses, history challenges character’s developed free spirits. Beginning with the battles of Schon Grabern and Austerlitz,
the war narrative reveals the awesome power of history as it tries to destroy the self will of Russian troops.
Rey: Page 167: "Only Adam Czartoryski in the entourage of Alexander, did not support the warlike enthusiasm of the young officers, and the fact that the emperor had taken the head of the coalition troops appeared to him to be
dangerous, but the Polish prince, whose relations with Alexander were strained since he had gone to Berlin, was also being marginalized."
An Examination of Free Will in Tolstoy’s War and Peace by Irina Itriyeva: as War and Peace progresses, history challenges character’s developed free spirits. Beginning with the battles of Schon Grabern and Austerlitz,
the war narrative reveals the awesome power of history as it tries to destroy the self will of Russian troops.
Davis: Page 739: “Adam Czartoryski...a Polish nobleman once taken hostage by Catherine.”
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