Rereading War and Peace: Vol.1, P.1-2

1/ I’m rereading the same translation I read last time: by Anthony Briggs.

Not knowing Russian, I can’t compare the translations I have looked at, but can comment on the superficial differences: 

- Aylmer and Louise Maude translate everything and Anglicise the names, so we have Prince Andrew (ew), Nicholas, etc.

- The revision by Amy Mandelker restores the Russian names and restores the French passages, with translation in footnotes.

- Ann Dunnigan retains a few French phrases or sentences without translation, and keeps the names as they are, though Hélène is called Ellen by the narrator (and Hélène by other characters), which feels weird. 

- Anthony Briggs translates everything, retaining (almost) no French, and gets rid of the feminine endings in last names (e.g. Natasha Rostova becomes Natasha Rostov), perhaps to make the novel more accessible.

- I don’t know about the choices made by Constance Garnett, and Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky, but I generally avoid them (except Constance Garnett’s translation of Chekhov).  

2/ I reread a few scenes in Swann’s Way, because the party scenes in War and Peace made me think of Proust’s parties.

As with Tolstoy, nothing escapes Proust: both of them capture the subtlest expressions and gestures, the slightest changes in tone. Proust absorbed Tolstoy. 

3/ There are some interesting similes in the novel. 

“Anna Pavlovna was clearly showing him off to her guests. Just as a skilful head waiter can pass off as a supreme delicacy a cut of beef that would be inedible if you’d seen it in the filthy kitchen, Anna Pavlovna served up to her guests that evening first the viscount and then the abbé as if they were supreme delicacies.” (Vol.1, P.1, ch.3) 

Later: 

“‘The viscount was a personal friend of the duke,’ she whispered to one of them, and murmured to someone else, ‘The viscount is such a good raconteur.’ To a third person she said, ‘You see – what a man of quality!’, and the viscount was presented in the most refined and advantageous light, served up like a joint of beef garnished with salad on a hot platter.” (ibid.) 

His similes are generally straightforward.

“Her tone was plaintive now, and her lip curled into a sneer, which made her look anything but happy, rather like a wild animal, squirrel-like and nasty.” (Vol.1, P.1, ch.6)

That is Lise, when she can contain it no longer and has an outburst before her husband Andrey and his close friend Pierre.  

“All at once the princess’s lovely little face changed its angry squirrel-like expression into a look of fear that made her seem both beautiful and sympathetic. She frowned and glared, directing her lovely eyes at her husband, but her face wore the timid, apologetic look of a dog wagging its drooping tail quickly but without much confidence.” (ibid.)

That is a magnificent scene, as we get to see the perspectives of three characters at once: Pierre feels awkwardly dragged into his friend’s marriage troubles and is surprised to see the self-assured Andrey now weary and disillusioned, whilst Lise is unhappy knowing that her husband joined the war to run away from her, but she doesn’t understand in what way she has fallen short. 

To return to Tolstoy’s similes, I forgot Sonya was compared to a cat: 

“There was a smoothness in the way she moved, a gentle suppleness in her little limbs and a kind of wary aloofness that suggested a pretty half-grown kitten that would one day turn into a lovely cat. […] Her girlish passion bordering on adoration was so obvious that her smile didn’t fool anyone; it was clear that the kitten had crouched down only to pounce faster than ever on her cousin and tease him the moment they could get out of the drawing-room like Boris and Natasha.” (Vol.1, P.1, ch.9) 

Tolstoy repeats the metaphor a few pages later: 

“The kitten, with her eyes glued on him, seemed likely at any second to pounce like a real cat and start teasing him.” (ibid.)

The kitten image reappears a few chapters later, when Natasha comforts Sonya about her love for Natasha’s brother Nikolay: 

“Sonya half-rose, and the kitten in her revived, its eyes gleaming; it seemed ready to flick its tail, pounce about on its soft paws and start playing with a ball, as good kittens do.” (Vol.1, P.1, ch.17) 

4/ Every page gives me pleasure, but sometimes something still stands out, like this passage about Marya looking at herself in the mirror: 

“The ever-gloomy eyes looked at themselves more hopelessly than ever. ‘She’s flattering me,’ thought the princess as she turned back to read on. But Julie was not flattering her friend; her eyes were large, deep and radiant (sometimes a warm light seemed to pour out of them), really so winsome that very often, in spite of the plainness of the face as a whole, her eyes held a greater appeal than mere beauty. But the princess had never seen the beautiful expression in her own eyes, an expression they assumed only when she wasn’t thinking about herself. Like everyone else’s, her face took on a strained, artificial and disagreeable expression the moment she looked at herself in the mirror.” (Vol.1, P.1, ch.22) 

That is written with love. 

The description of Marya makes me think of Kitty: when Tolstoy writes about Anna Karenina, he writes about the beauty of her whole figure, her neck, her arms, her graceful movements; when he writes about Kitty, he mostly focuses on her eyes and smile, and the effect they have on Levin.  

When I first read War and Peace 8 years ago, I didn’t particularly like Marya because she’s a bit too religious for me. But now I do like her, especially after the scene where Andrey’s preparing to go to war and Marya tells him to try to understand Lise’s point of view, to put himself in other people’s places. It’s a George Eliot moment. 

5/ I like the way Tolstoy contrasts Andrey and Nikolay in battle. 

“Although it was not long since Prince Andrey had left Russia, he had changed a great deal during that time. His facial expression and the way he moved and walked showed barely a trace of his former affectation and languid boredom. He had the air of a man too absorbed in enjoyable and fascinating work to think about making an impression on other people. His face showed greater contentment – with himself and those around him. His smile was easier; a warmer charm shone in his eyes.” (Vol.1, P.2, ch.3) 

Experienced, and running away from his wife and high society, Andrey feels more at home in the army.

Nikolay is different. 

“Rostov, preoccupied by his relations with Bogdanych, had stepped on to the bridge without knowing what to do. There was no one to slash at with his sword, which was how he had always imagined a battle would go, and he couldn’t contribute to the bridge-burning because, unlike the other soldiers, he had forgotten to bring any straw. He was just standing there looking around when suddenly there was a great rattling sound on the bridge, like a scattering of nuts, and one of the hussars standing right next to him fell with a groan against the railing. […] Nikolay Rostov turned away and began staring into the distance, at the waters of the Danube, at the sky, at the sun, as if he were looking for something. How lovely that sky looked, how blue and calm and deep! Oh, the brightness and magnificence of that setting sun! The warm glow of the water on the far Danube! Even lovelier were the distant hills that shone so blue beyond the Danube, the convent, the mysterious gorges, the pine woods misted over to their tops … everything so calm and happy …” (Vol.1, P.2, ch.8) 

The level of detail in War and Peace is astonishing. 

“Just then the sun disappeared behind the clouds, and more stretcher-bearers came into view ahead of Rostov. And the dread of death and of the stretchers, and the loss of all sunshine and life, everything fused into a single sensation of sickening horror.” (ibid.) 

A moment later: 

“‘Anyway, nobody seems to have noticed,’ Rostov thought to himself. And nobody had. All of them knew the feeling that this ensign, never before under fire, was now experiencing for the first time.” (ibid.)

Tolstoy depicts war from different perspectives, and here we can see the difference between the youthful, inexperienced Nikolay and the mature Andrey. 

Here is Andrey, after a victory: 

“His feelings were those of a man who has found the beginnings of a long-sought happiness. The moment he closed his eyelids, his ears rang with the rattle of muskets and the boom of cannon-fire, sounds that blended with the rumble of the wheels and the sensation of victory. […] The dark, starry night was followed by a bright and sunny morning. The snow was thawing in the sunshine, the horses were running well and on either side of the road new and different kinds of forest, fields and trees flew by.” (Vol.1, P.2, ch.9)

Andrey has to dispatch the news to the Austrian court, and he’s in that excited, jubilant state of mind the entire way—till he enters the court. 

“The adjutant seemed to be using this exaggerated courtesy to protect himself from any attempt at familiarity on the part of the Russian aide. Prince Andrey’s joyful enthusiasm was considerably dampened as he walked to the door of the minister’s room. He felt humiliated, and the sense of humiliation soon transformed itself imperceptibly into a quite unjustified belief that they were treating him with contempt. His fertile mind immediately hit on the right attitude for him to adopt to be able to treat them, the adjutant and the minister of war, with equal contempt. ‘They’ve never smelled powder. I’m sure they think winning victories is the easiest thing in the world!’ he thought. His eyes narrowed with scorn; he walked very slowly into the war minister’s room.” (ibid.)

Interestingly, it’s when he meets these officials that he returns to being the scornful Andrey we have seen in high society. 

“Prince Andrey left the palace with the feeling that all the excitement and pleasure that had been his following the victory had now drained away into the uncaring hands of the minister and his unctuous adjutant. His entire cast of mind had changed in an instant. The battle figured in his memory as something far away and long ago.” (ibid.) 

This is a magnificent scene. Then in the following chapter, Andrey’s perspective changes again when he talks to Bilibin, a Russian diplomat he knows, and realises that what he saw as contempt was all in his head: the Austrian minister couldn’t be so happy over the news, when Vienna meanwhile had been captured.

Tolstoy’s ability to inhabit his characters’ minds is just better than any other novelist’s. 

6/ Rereading War and Peace feels like coming home. I still remember the major characters. I still recognise some important moments, such as Pierre at his father’s deathbed, or Nikolay’s confusion and terror in battle—“‘Who are they? Why are they running? They’re not after me! They can’t be after me! Why? They can’t want to kill me! Me. Everybody loves me!’ He remembered all the love he had had from his mother, from his family and his friends, and the idea of the enemy wanting to kill him seemed absurd.” (Vol.1, P.2, ch.19) 

Whilst lots of books have faded in my memory over time, sometimes as though I’d never read them, Anna Karenina and War and Peace have always been part of my mind, part of my mental furniture since I first read them 9 and 8 years ago. But rereading War and Peace still feels fresh, and it’s still powerful. I didn’t remember, for example, the scene where Nikolay addresses Telyanin for stealing Denisov’s purse. 

“… But the words sounded pathetic, almost desperate, a plea for forgiveness. The moment Rostov heard that tone of voice, a great boulder of doubt seemed to fall from him and roll away. He felt a thrill of delight, mixed immediately with some pity for the miserable creature standing before him, but this was something that had to be taken all the way.” (Vol.1, P.2, ch.4)

Nikolay has never liked Telyanin, and Denisov desperately needs the money. And yet: 

“Telyanin’s terrified face, drained of all colour, now twitched in every muscle, and his eyes darted about everywhere, but only downwards, never coming to the level of Rostov’s face. His sobs were pitiful to hear.

[…] Rostov took the money, avoiding Telyanin’s eyes, and left the room without a word. But he stopped in the doorway and looked back.

‘My God!’ he said, with tears in his eyes, ‘how could you have done that?’” (ibid.) 

Almost in spite of himself, Nikolay feels pity for this “miserable creature” and flings the purse back at him. It’s not the same, but it makes me think of a moment later on in the book when Andrey sees that a man who has been his enemy is sobbing and having his leg amputated, and all anger and hatred are gone—Andrey feels compassion. 

Wonderful, wonderful scenes.