A Look at War and Peace: Volume Four

Natasha and Pierre at the end of the novel.

Read about [Volume One] [Volume Two] [Volume Three]

The last volume of the novel is probably its weakest.  Tolstoy, who has taken his time with detailing everything up to now, starts taking obvious shortcuts in order to hurry the complex story toward its conclusion.  Still, there is plenty of fine writing to enjoy even if the pacing seems a bit awkward at times.

In Petersburg, aristocratic life goes on as usual.  There are soirees and parties and balls.  The only tension is the fact that most of this way of life is based upon French influences.  A lot of what is spoken is uttered in French.  While this seems a bit strange for the moment, everyone carries on because it is all they know to do.  

Hélène is the subject of much gossip as she has withdrawn from society, apparently due to a sudden attack of angina.  Soon thereafter she dies of the illness, though some believe she killed herself because of her scandalous double relationship situation.  Tolstoy only allows the reader to know of this second-hand and Hélène herself does not appear in Volume Four.  

I consider this to be an obvious matter of convenience and one of the weaker parts of the novel. Tolstoy sets up another fascinating situation for a character and then just lets it all go by ending her life.  It would be more intriguing to learn some details of Hélène and her complex three-way relationship.  But I suppose Tolstoy felt he had bigger fish to fry.

Initially word comes that the Battle of Borodino was a great victory.  Leaving church, everyone gives thanks for Kutuzov's leadership.  Soon thereafter, however, it is alarmingly learned that Moscow has been abandoned.  This is unthinkable.  Kutuzov is immediately seen as an incompetent old fool.  

Meanwhile, Nikolai Rostov is introduced to Princess Marya and the two immediately discover a chemistry together.  But Rostov is conflicted because he has previously committed himself to Sonya, his cousin.  Compared with Marya, everything seems dull to him now, he is disinterested in his former passions for life.   
 
While attending church with Marya he prays to be released from his promise to Sonya.  In another instance of hasty convenience, a letter soon arrives from Sonya doing just that.  He also learns that Prince Andrei is convalescing from his wound and is with the Rostovs.  He shares this with Marya, who has been frantically trying to find out more about her brother's condition.  With a new love in his heart, Nikolai soon returns to his regiment.

Sonya is Tolstoy's primary example of personal sacrifice in the novel.  She is always putting the good of others before herself.  But she is envious of Natasha, who has always gotten more or less whatever she wanted and has never sacrificed herself for anything.  She actually loves Nikolai more than anyone but feels that Providence has interfered with that relationship and this gives her an odd sense of happiness.  Ultimately, she is one of the novel's most tragic figures.  She ends up being basically just another piece of furniture in the Rostov household, without a husband or even a suitor.  She becomes an old maid but that doesn't happen until the Epilogue.

As a prisoner, Pierre is grouped with others and taken to a field for holding.  From here he can see the charred ruins of Moscow.  Tolstoy describes him as feeling like : “an insignificant chip of wood fallen into the wheels of a machine unknown to him but functioning well.”  He comes before Marshall Davout and they have an exchange in French.  After this Davout, known for his sternness and staunch discipline gazes at Pierre silently for a long time.  He makes a brief human connection with Pierre before a adjutant interrupts and calls him away.

Davout dismissively orders Pierre taken away.  Pierre believes he is going to be executed.  In fact, he is simply part of a group of prisoners that witness others being executed.  Pierre finds the whole thing incomprehensible. It seems to him as if the “machine” is operating well enough but he wonders “who” is actually in control of all these proceedings, the executions, the burning of the city, Davout's brief moment of compassion.  It all seems to be operating beyond the scope of human control.

He meets a fellow prisoner with whom he strikes up a friendship.  They are together for about a month, conversing and exchanging ideas.  Pierre is profoundly impacted by this prisoner's simplicity of life and perpetual kindness.  What impresses Pierre most is the fellow prisoner's absent-mindedness.  He seems to live in the present moment without remembering (or being bound by) what he has just said or done.  

Princess Marya finally arrives to see her brother who is still under the constant care of Natasha.  The two greet one another affectionately.  Unfortunately, Prince Andrei's condition has worsened. Marya's heart is filled with love for Nikolai until being in the presence of her brother takes away all thought of anything else.  Andrei is dying.  Before he does so, he encourages his sister to marry Nikolai and proclaims his love for Natasha.

Andrei's son is now seven.  Here Tolstoy once again uses a child's perspective to complete an unfolding scene.  We are told that the son was too young to know very much and that later in life he would gain a great deal of experience and knowledge.  But he did not need any of that to fully understand what was taking place before his innocent eyes between Marya, Natasha and Andrei.  His father dies after having spent almost 1,000 pages of this novel either wounded or in a constant state of unsavory existential crisis.

Tolstoy writes: “In those hours of suffering solitude and half delirium that he spent after being wounded, the more he pondered the new principle of eternal love revealed to him, the more, though without feeling it himself, he renounced earthly life. To love everything, everybody, always to sacrifice oneself for love, meant to love no one, meant not to live this earthly life. And the more imbued he was with this principle of love, the more he renounced life and the more completely he destroyed that dreadful barrier which, without love, stands between life and death. When, in that first time, he remembered that he had to die, he said to himself: 'Well, so much the better.'”(p. 982)  

Compared with Pierre and Natasha, Prince Andrei does not change much throughout the narrative.  Except for his discovery of universal love brought on by his second wound, he dies the same man as he was at the beginning.  But he casts a broad shadow across the novel and, as I pointed out previously about Volume One, he is the most intriguing character in the early stage of the novel.

Napoleon won the Battle of Borodino at the heavy cost of a good portion of his own forces in addition to wiping out half the Russian army.  He captured the field and, ultimately, Moscow.  But no one surrendered anything to him.  No one offered him the keys to the city.  He sat in Moscow only to have his own looting troops help burn the city down.  He has no real control over anything and, in the end, he has virtually nothing to show for his “victory.”  

Somewhat at odds with strict military history, Tolstoy considers Borodino to be a Russian victory.  Later in the novel (p. 1035) he writes that the “spirit” of the army is a force multiplier.  Since the Russian spirit was not broken at Borodino and since the French army was not exalted by its “victory” then the true victor in this case was Kutuzov's forces, which actually gain in spirit after Borodino, until they are able to take the offensive.  

While occupying Moscow, the French are defeated in the small Battle of Tarutino.  The battle's significance lies not in its size but rather in the fact that it marks the moment that Kutuzov and Bennigsen go over to the offensive instead of always reacting defensively.  Between this defeat and the condition of the city, Napoleon reluctantly orders a retreat as the chill of autumn sets in.  The retreat will become the greatest catastrophe of his military career and Tolstoy does a brilliant job of capturing why.  

The Russians will hound the French Emperor with many small skirmishes and battles but he would not fight another major battle on Russian soil.  And yet...and yet he will be totally defeated for the first time in his career even without a major battle being fought.  Tolstoy sees this as evidence of his philosophy of history.  And he designates the much criticized Kutuzov as the Zen Master of this philosophy because Kutuzov knew when to do nothing at all.

He writes: “Kutuzov’s merit consisted not in some strategic maneuver of genius, as they call it, but in that he alone understood the significance of what was happening. He alone already understood then the significance of the French army’s inactivity, he alone went on insisting that the battle of Borodino had been a victory; he alone—who, it would seem, in his position as commander in chief, should have been disposed to attack—he alone used all his powers to keep the Russian army from useless battles.” (p. 990)

Of Napoleon's leadership during the retreat Tolstoy writes: “Napoleon, whom we imagine as guiding this whole movement (as a savage imagines that the figure carved on the prow of a ship is the force that guides it), Napoleon, during all this time of his activity, was like a child who, holding the straps tied inside a carriage, fancies that he is driving it.” (p. 1008)

Some philosophical insight from my kindle edition.

Pierre remains a prisoner of the French.  The privations of his meager food and impoverished life, his bare feet developing sores as he is exposed to the elements, mean that he is no longer “fat” though he remains strong and stout.  For the first time in the novel, he feels at peace, owing to his simple conditions and shared suffering with his fellow prisoners.  Far from being a punishment, the denial of everything he has previously known has changed his outlook on life.  He feels freedom from the burden of his failed marriage, his questioning of “why” and “who,” and the emptiness of being a Count.  He lives in the moment and relishes a strange joy.

Kutuzov spends much of his time restraining the Russians from attacking Napoleon's retreating forces.  But many officers do not believe the French are withdrawing quickly enough.  The Russian general seems to be alone in understanding how the retreat itself, combined with poor logistics and the oncoming cold weather, will wreck havoc upon the French.  He restrains a major offensive much to the dislike of many of his subordinates.  Meanwhile, Cossacks and other raiding forces harass the French.  Napoleon is subjected to a partisan war which destroys the invaders “piecemeal.”

Denisov is the leader of one such party.  Tolstoy describes the nature of these various raids, the stealthy, cautious approach, the quick attack, taking what prisoners and/or supplies can be captured quickly and then the rapid retreat.  Denisov is an expert at such actions.  He is joined by young Petya Rostov, Natasha's younger brother.  Petya is idealistic and impetuous, somewhat like a male version of Natasha herself.  Denisov attempts to keep Petya away from combat because of his youthful recklessness, but Petya participates anyway.

Dolokhov returns to the story doing sneaky things as usual.  He and Petya enter a French camp, posing as friendly stragglers.  This is a mission to discover the state of the French and the condition of their supplies as well as the fact that they possess some Russian prisoners.  They obtain the necessary information, Dolokhov being in his element (posing as something he isn't) while young Petya spends most of the encounter terrified they are going to be caught.

The Cossacks use the reconnaissance to strike the French soldiers. Waiting anxiously for the order to attack, Petya offers us another moment when Tolstoy rather poetically writes about watching the sky.  “He looked at the sky. The sky was as magical as the earth. The sky was clearing, and clouds raced over the treetops, as if uncovering the stars. Sometimes it seemed that the clouds dispersed and a black, clear sky appeared. Sometimes it seemed that these black patches were clouds. Sometimes it seemed that the sky rose high, high above his head; sometimes the sky came right down, so that he could touch it with his hand. Petya began to close his eyes and rock. Drops dripped. Quiet talk went on. Horses neighed and scuffled. Someone snored.” ( p. 1055)

This grants us an opportunity to compare the P/V translation with Dunnigan's.  She translates this moment as: “He looked up at the sky.  The sky too was an enchanted realm like the earth.  It was beginning to clear, and the clouds were scudding over the treetops as though unveiling the stars.  Sometimes it looked as though the clouds had been swept away and a stretch of clear black sky appeared.  And sometimes these black patches seemed to be clouds.  At other times the sky seemed to rise high overhead, then to sink so low that one could have reached out and touched it.  Petya's eyes began to close and he swayed slightly.  The trees were dripping.  There was a low hum of talk.  The horses neighed and jostled one another.  Someone snored.” (p. 1260)

The differences are subtle and it is strictly a matter of opinion as to which translation you might prefer.  In his introduction to the more modern translation, Pevear is rather proud of the phrase “drops dripped” as being very close to Tolstoy's original Russian intent.  Perhaps this is so and it is certainly more poetic than “the trees were dripping.”  But, once again, I find myself preferring the Dunnigan version of the novel overall to the P/V translation.  In this particular instance, P/V is superior, however.  Either way, you get the idea.

Unfortunately, despite Denisov's best efforts to keep the youth under control, Petya charges headlong in the attack and is suddenly and abruptly killed.  This is an effective part of the narrative.  Petya has only appeared recently in the story and to give him so much focus for numerous pages only to have his young life taken away is shocking the first time your read it.  

Denisov is remorseful.  Dolokhov treats it as just another casualty of war.  Both men interacted with special interest toward the lad.  Their differing reactions further reveal much about the honesty of Denisov and the treachery of Dolokhov.  The attack is otherwise successful.  Tolstoy has another surprise in store for the reader, among the Russian prisoners retaken in this action is Pierre.

Natasha and Marya comfort one another after Prince Andrei's death.  They plan to move back to Moscow together when word arrives of Petya's death.  Natasha's mother takes the death of her youngest son exceptionally hard.  But Natasha, though she mourns Petya, finds a sort of rejuvenation from the general sadness at the passing of Andrei.  In loving and caring for her ailing mother's wounded soul, her own soul is healed by the love she rediscovers within herself.

Kutuzov continues to chase Napoleon's disintegrating army out of Russia.  Minor battles are fought at Krasnoe and Berezina.  The Russians win both.  Napoleon is utterly defeated.  Kutuzov is awarded the highest honor, the Order of St. George, first degree, though he barely notices it.  Nevertheless, Alexander is disappointed with Kutuzov when the later halts the pursuit. The Tzar desires that the French be driven back into Germany but Kutuzov sees this as senseless given the condition of his own forces and the fact that the French are clearly beaten.  Shortly after this, Kutuzov dies of old age.

Pierre is on his way back to Moscow when he learns of the death of his wife and of Prince Andrei.  All of this, combined with seeing the corpse of Petya and his own recent privations, gives him an illness which clouds his memory.  It is a surprise to his preoccupied mind when he becomes aware that he is surrounded by his servants again.  During his recovery he experiences a joyful freedom that he has not known since the novel began.  This amounts to an epiphany for him.  Tolstoy writes:

“He could have no purpose, because he now had faith—not faith in some rules, or words, or thoughts, but faith in a living, ever-sensed God. Before he had sought for Him in the purposes he set for himself. This seeking for a purpose had only been a seeking for God; and suddenly he had learned in his captivity, not through words, not through arguments, but through immediate sensation, what his nanny had told him long ago: that God is here, right here, everywhere. In captivity he had learned that God in Karataev was much greater, more infinite and unfathomable, than in the Arkhitekton of the universe recognized by the Masons. He experienced the feeling of a man who has found what he was seeking under his own feet, while he had been straining his eyes looking far away from himself. All his life he had looked off somewhere, over the heads of the people around him, yet there was no need to strain his eyes, but only to look right in front of him.” (pp. 1103 – 1104)

Back in Moscow at last and fully recuperated,  Pierre visits Princess Marya to offer his condolences on the death of her brother, his best friend.  In doing so he unexpectedly meets Natasha, who is living there.  At first he does not recognize her.  “She had grown thinner and paler. But that was not what had made her unrecognizable: it had been impossible to recognize her in the first moment, as he came in, because on that face, in the eyes of which formerly there had always shone a secret smile of the joy of life, now, when he had come in and glanced at her for the first time, there had been not even the shadow of a smile; there had been only eyes—attentive, kind, and sadly questioning.  Pierre’s confusion was not reflected as confusion in Natasha, but only as a pleasure that almost imperceptibly lit up her whole face. (pp. 1112 – 1113)

The three characters exchange stories of all that has happened to them since they last saw one another.  Natasha's confused sadness and Pierre's disorientation at his renewed feelings for her and suddenly finding himself a spiritually free man make things awkward for them both.  But Marya, the most spiritual character in the novel, guides them toward each other until they declare their love.  Pierre has always loved her but, being married, he could do nothing about it.  Natasha has always looked for love elsewhere and suddenly found it in the man who has always be most compassionate toward her.  

While Volume Four ends with the declaration of their mutual love and desire, Tolstoy offers a lengthy epilogue which I blogged about many years ago.  The Epilogue consists primarily of Tolstoy's lengthy essay on history.  But there is also a narrative part which concerns two happy marriages, Nikolai to Marya (with not-yet-old maid Sonya along for the ride) and Pierre to Natasha.  This part of the story takes place in 1820, several years after all previous events.

Natasha has, by now, fully matured and become her true self.  Tolstoy writes: “Natasha was married in the early spring of 1813, and by 1820 she already had three daughters and one son, whom she had passionately wished for and was now nursing herself. She had filled out and broadened, so that it was difficult to recognize in this strong mother the former slender, nimble Natasha. The features of her face had defined themselves and bore an expression of softness and serenity. In her face there was not, as formerly, that ceaselessly burning fire of animation that had constituted her charm. Now one often saw only her face and body, while her soul was not seen at all. One saw only a strong, beautiful, and fruitful female. Very rarely was the former fire kindled in her now. It happened only when, as now, her husband returned home, or a sick child recovered, or she and Countess Marya remembered Prince Andrei (she never spoke of him with her husband, supposing that he was jealous of Prince Andrei’s memory), and very rarely when something chanced to draw her into singing, which she had abandoned completely after marriage. And in those rare moments when the former fire was kindled in her developed, beautiful body, she was still more attractive than before.” (p. 1154)

The couple have four children, the youngest is a son who they name after Petya.  This has an obvious poignant quality that is one of hundreds of things making War and Peace feel so human.  Natasha rules the roost, as it were, but Pierre is free to travel as he needs to and is completely trusted.  Pierre, for his part, has become a wise and wealthy Count.

It is after Pierre returns from one such trip that Natasha makes a statement that has resonated with me since long before I was married, when I first read the novel.  Tolstoy does a wonderful job describing the intimacy of this relationship, which is the highlight of the novel's conclusion.  

“From the very moment they were left alone, and Natasha, with wide-open, happy eyes, went softly up to him and suddenly seized his head and pressed it to her breast, saying, “Now you’re all mine, all mine! You won’t get away!”—from that moment such a conversation began, contrary to all the laws of logic, contrary if only because totally different subjects were discussed at one and the same time. This simultaneous discussion of many things not only did not hinder their clarity of understanding, but, on the contrary, was the surest sign that they fully understood each other. As everything in a dream is false, senseless, and contradictory, except for the feeling that guides the dream, so in this sort of communication, contrary to all the laws of reason, it was not the words that were consistent and clear, but only the feeling that guided them.” (pp. 1174 – 1175)

At one point Pierre interrupts Natasha.  ““Yes, there’s also…” Natasha began. “No, it’s not that. I never stop loving you. And it’s impossible to love more; and that’s especially…Well, yes…” He did not finish, because their eyes met and said all the rest. “What stupidity,” Natasha said suddenly, “that the honeymoon and the first time is the happiest. On the contrary, now it’s best. If only you didn’t go away. Remember how we quarreled? And it was always my fault. Always. And what we quarreled about—I don’t even remember.” (page 1176)  That it is only after years of marriage that the best years come may seem quaint today, but it is something that I have never forgotten since my first reading over 40 years ago.  It made a lifelong impression on me.

The story does not end with Natasha and Pierre happily together, however.  It ends with a child.  Prince Andrei's son, Nickolenka, is being raised by Pierre and Natasha and he wakes up from a nightmare and the very moment Pierre and Natasha begin embracing.  He is afraid of the dark so an icon lamp dimly lights his room.  Tolstoy details the nightmare which involves being a soldier and having “Uncle” Pierre suddenly become his dead father.

For the first time ever, he has a clear image of his father's face in his mind.  He recalls him caressing and comforting him as a boy.  This is not a dream buy a memory triggered by a dream.  The boy knows his father approved of Uncle Pierre, befriended him, and takes comfort in that.  He is inspired and promises to devote himself to his studies and to become someone of whom both of his father figures would be proud.  The boy suddenly bursts into tears. When his night servant asks if he is OK, the boy replies that he is fine and becomes excited by the prospect of making his father proud.  The End.

War and Peace is easily one of my Top Five novels of all time.  Dostoevsky's The Brothers Karamazov, Proust's In Search of Lost Time, and Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings definitely make the list as well.  I'll have to think about the lone remaining slot.  Tolstoy is lively and entertaining to read.  He masterfully supplies a truly human touch while creating numerous characters and complex interlocking relationships as he offers an insightful (though wrong in my opinion) take on history and historical events.  He exhibits tremendous breadth in this story that few authors ever achieve.  Though it is a “heavy” novel, it is offered in relatively short chunks and is fun to read.  I don't want to let too many winters pass without me touring it again.  These four recent posts only reveal the backbone of a far grander reading experience.