Rereading War and Peace: Vol.3, P.1

1/ It is in this part that Tolstoy the philosopher appears for the first time, as he starts talking about the French invasion of Russia in 1812.

It’s interesting to read these chapters whilst trying to understand the current war in Ukraine. 

“… to us, to posterity who view the thing that happened in all its magnitude and perceive its plain and terrible meaning, these causes seem insufficient. To us it is incomprehensible that millions of Christian men killed and tortured each other either because Napoleon was ambitious or Alexander was firm, or because England’s policy was astute or the Duke of Oldenburg wronged. We cannot grasp what connection such circumstances have with the actual fact of slaughter and violence: why because the Duke was wronged, thousands of men from the other side of Europe killed and ruined the people of Smolensk and Moscow and were killed by them.” (Vol.2, P.1, ch.1)

Some readers object to these chapters but I don’t. Tolstoy has always been interested in the causes and motivations of human behaviour—it makes perfect sense that he wants to examine the roots of something on a much larger scale, something incomprehensible such as war. 

2/ The first chapters of Volume 3 are the history chapters, the supposedly dry chapters. But there are some beautiful details, like this: 

“The sun was only just appearing from behind the clouds, the air was fresh and dewy. A herd of cattle was being driven along the road from the village, and over the fields the larks rose trilling, one after another, like bubbles rising in water.” (Vol.3, P.1, ch.4) 

Or: 

“They had hardly ridden up a hill, past a tavern, before they saw a group of horsemen coming towards them. In front of the group, on a black horse with trappings that glittered in the sun, rode a tall man with plumes in his hat and black hair curling down to his shoulders. He wore a red mantle, and stretched his long legs forward in French fashion. The man rode towards Balashov at a gallop, his plumes flowing and his gems and gold lace glittering in the bright June sunshine.” (ibid.) 

Later, when Tolstoy writes about Nikolai Rostov in the battlefield, he also adds some beautiful details: 

“Tattered, blue-purple clouds, reddening in the east, were scudding before the wind.” (Vol.3, P.1, ch.14) 

And: 

“As soon as the sun appeared in a clear strip of sky beneath the clouds, the wind fell, as if it dared not spoil the beauty of the summer morning after the storm; drops continued to fall, but vertically now, and all was still. The whole sun appeared on the horizon and disappeared behind a long, narrow cloud that hung above it. A few minutes later it reappeared brighter still from behind the top of the cloud, tearing its edge. Everything grew bright and glittered.” (ibid.) 

Isn’t that so beautiful? I’m still reading the translation by Aylmer and Louise Maude, revised by Amy Mandelker, in case anyone’s wondering. 

3/ If we go back a bit to the year Natasha and Andrei are staying apart at the old Bolkonsky’s “request”, I note that Tolstoy stays entirely with Natasha’s perspective and doesn’t follow Andrei—not even for a brief moment—until he’s back in Moscow. We know Natasha’s thoughts, we know Sonya’s, we know the old man’s, we know Marya’s, but what does Andrei think about the engagement and the separation? What does he think about his father’s objection to the marriage? How often does he think about Natasha? Does he have doubt? Does he compare Natasha and Lise in his head? What does he think when he gets the letters from Natasha, and does he notice the slight change in tone? 

And when he’s back in Moscow and talking to Pierre, we can see his reaction to the news that Natasha “has been at death’s door”, but the point of view is Pierre’s—we don’t know what Andrei is thinking at that moment.

This is not a complaint, I’m just pointing out Tolstoy’s decision. We do know Andrei’s thoughts afterwards and his pain, and I can also see that he never realises his own part in Natasha’s misery and lapse of judgment. 

The chapter of Andrei at Bald Hills, visiting his family before going off to war, is magnificent. 

“… it struck him as strange and unexpected to find the way of life there unchanged and still the same in every detail. He entered through the gates with their stone pillars, and drove up the avenue leading to the house as if he were entering an enchanted, sleeping castle. The same old stateliness, the same cleanliness, the same stillness reigned there, and inside there was the same furniture, the same walls, sounds, and smell, and the same timid faces, only somewhat older.” (Vol.3, P.1, ch.8) 

This is like my boyfriend returning to his hometown and going to the old pub to find everything exactly the same: time passes and lives change, but in the pub, everything looks exactly the same and everyone looks the same, just a bit older. 

“Little Nikolai alone had changed. He had grown, become rosier, had curly dark hair, and when merry and laughing quite unconsciously lifted the upper lip of his pretty little mouth just as the little princess used to do. He alone did not obey the law of immutability in the enchanted sleeping castle. But though externally all remained as of old, the inner relations of all these people had changed since Prince Andrei had seen them last.” (ibid)

This reminds me of the two moments of Andrei with the oak, though the difference is that earlier the oak appears to change because Andrei has changed inside (having fallen in love with Natasha), whereas now there is change in the relations of people at Bald Hills.

The chapter also makes me think of Vanity Fair: George Osborne also leaves for war without being reconciled to his father, though of course the conflict between him and old Osborne is much more serious than between Andrei and old Bolkonsky. 

“He sought in himself either remorse for having angered his father, or regret at leaving home for the first time in his life on bad terms with him, and was horrified to find neither. What meant still more to him was, that he sought and did not find in himself the former tenderness for his son which he had hoped to reawaken by caressing the boy and taking him on his knee.” (ibid.) 

That is so good. Tolstoy is not sentimental. 

4/ This is an interesting quote:

“Pfuel was one of those theoreticians who so love their theory that they lose sight of the theory’s object—its practical application. His love of theory made him hate everything practical, and he would not listen to it. He was even pleased by failure, for failures resulting from deviations in practice from the theory, only proved to him the accuracy of his theory.” (Vol.3, P.1, ch.10) 

I see this a lot. 

5/ In an earlier blog post, I wrote that Tolstoy often picked a detail or image for a character, and repeated it many times. In War and Peace, because of the scope and the large canvas, he doesn’t repeat them all throughout the book as he later does in Anna Karenina, but there’s still some repetition. And he also does it with the historical characters. 

For example, Napoleon: 

“Napoleon noticed Balashov’s embarrassment when uttering these last words: his face twitched and the calf of his left leg began to quiver rhythmically. Without moving from where he stood he began speaking in a louder tone and more hurriedly than before. During the speech that followed Balashov, who more than once lowered his eyes, involuntarily noticed the quivering of Napoleon’s left leg which increased the more, the more Napoleon raised his voice.” (Vol.3, P.1, ch.6) 

And later: 

“He went in silence from one corner of the room to the other and again stopped in front of Balashov. Balashov noticed that his left leg was quivering faster than before and his face seemed petrified in its stern expression. This quivering of his left leg was a thing Napoleon was conscious of.” (ibid.)

Here’s Pfuel of Prussia: 

“Pfuel was short and very thin but broad-boned, of coarse, robust build, broad in the hips and with prominent shoulder-blades. His face was much wrinkled and his eyes deep set. His hair had evidently been hastily brushed smooth in front on the temples, but stuck up behind in quaint little tufts.” (Vol.3, P.1, ch.10) 

Later we see him again, and see the tufts of hair again: 

“He said a few words to Prince Andrei and Chernyshov about the present war, with the air of a man who knows beforehand that all will go wrong, and who is not displeased that it should be so. The unbrushed tufts of hair sticking up behind and the hastily brushed hair on his temples expressed this most eloquently.” (ibid.) 

And again: 

“From the tone in which the courtiers addressed him, and the way Paulucci had allowed himself to speak of him to the Emperor, but above all from a certain desperation in Pfuel’s own expressions, it was clear that the others knew, and Pfuel himself felt, that his fall was at hand. And despite his self-confidence and grumpy German sarcasm he was pitiable, with his hair smoothly brushed on the temples and sticking up in tufts behind.” (Vol.3, P.1, ch.11) 

By pinning down a physical detail and repeating it, Tolstoy makes a character more real, more memorable.