Tolstoy’s War and Peace is an extraordinary text, and often leaves an impression memorable and intense. It recounts the Napoleonic wars, particularly the invasion of Russia, and in the process, the reader learns lessons such as, how war can be a spiritual activity, an observation that grates the modern proclivity, to believe war is always immoral. With the latter Tolstoy might agree, but from his personal experiences fighting in Crimea, also noticed that fighting, devotion, patriotism, and soldierly bonding can be a panacea, for the pettiness of life, or at least some elements of which it is comprised: rivalries, jealousies, insults, economic insecurities, ego-driven fears; all melt away, as it were, when facing an enemy and one hears, bullets whizzing and shrieking, penetrating those pointlessly seeking, to avoid this cruel fate.
An important lesson of War and Peace is the many manifestations of love, at times it is carnal and ego-driven, at others it rises above, ones’ mere wishes and desires, and transcends lust’s extinguishable fires. Lastly, the reader learns these timeless lessons while gaining knowledge about a crucially important time in human history: the French revolution, Napoleon’s subsequent attempts to establish a new Rome centered in Paris as the eternal, cosmopolitan capital city, and the failure of this grand project partly, or mainly, because of Russia’s resistance, equally valiant, sacrificial, and bloody. I’ll conclude this blogpost with some personal reflections on the period during which I read War and Peace, the summer of 2021, while I was in Spain and Italy, in the middle of the 4th wave of Covid-19, when I had many close calls with this devil of a plague.
War and Human Psychology
Inter-group violence is a constant in the human past, regardless of political units including ones which encompass, empires, tribes, gangs, cities, nations, religions; all, at one time or another, engaged in, war and violence. Thinkers have approached this subject from a scholarly perspective, trying to understand what causes war; others from a legal and moral point of view, ascertaining whether law can render the evil of killing no more. In the 20th century at least, the latter view has prevailed, in legal instruments, political efforts and cultural symbols, many of which entailed, the idea—alien to our ancestors—that war is wrong and should, like other forms of violence, be ended, or could, be allowed only in limited circumstances, like those intended, to prevent invasion and ensure territory is defended.
This approach, judging by the violence of the 20th century, has clearly failed to materialize. Nonetheless, at the level of law and culture, there is little doubt that war is not a legitimate way to realize, glory and prestige, as it was in the past. Now, professional sports, economic competition, and scientific achievement are the routes to national glory; this shows how, culturally at least, humans have developed other ways to imbue their national stories, with triumph and victory. War and Peace challenges contemporary sensibilities because it presents war as enjoyable, even spiritual, in its capacity to create deep and lasting bonds between soldiers and with the fatherland; in the process, the ego is deflated, as it as were, subsumed to something greater, which reveals how petty most human concerns actually are. The pain of unrequited love, the frustration of economic insecurity, betrayal induced rage; all turn to oblivion when in sacrifice the soldier is engaged.
This tendency is clearly demonstrated in the lives of many of the text’s main characters, particularly Andrei Bolkonsky. Handsome, intelligent, and wealthy; one would think he has all it takes to be happy. And yet he is miserable, in part because he is in a loveless union, with the beautiful Liza, needy, demanding, fearful and who soon will, bear his child. Her needs entail, for Andrei, a loss of freedom that is unbearable, but there is a way out of a situation he finds so terrible: he is a member of the Russian nobility, and hence is imbued with the values of military duty. He jumps at the opportunity, therefore, to fight Napoleon’s forces, in Austria, at the infamous battle of Austerlitz. Russia and its German ally attempt to defeat the French, despite great acts of heroism and sacrifice, they could not wrench, victory from this decisive battle; history has ultimately saddled, says Tolstoy, responsibility on the Germans for this humiliating defeat. But I digress, and return to the figure of Andrei, whom, despite being a rich nobleman with a lot to lose, charges against the enemy forces, who are firing mercilessly, on foot or while riding on their horses. Andrei is gravely wounded and profusely bleeds, while on the ground looking at the sky the following he perceives:
How quiet, calm, and solemn…the way the clowds creep across this lofty, infinite sky. How is it I haven’t seen this lofty sky before? And how happy I am that I’ve finally come to know it…nothing, nothing is certain, except the insignificance of everything I can comprehend and the grandeur of something incomprehensible but most important!
Andrei recovers, and extraordinary acts of bravery are recognized and hence encouraged, by those in the highest echelons, including the Emperor Alexander. Andrei is not so lucky during the next great confrontation, the Battle of Borodino, which occurs on Russian soil; Napoleon himself was present to encourage his men, but his plans were destined to spoil, by the great sacrifices of the Russian forces, which were unwilling to surrender despite horrendous losses. Half of their men perished, while the French lost a quarter. The latter’s attempts to conquer Europe were gravely wounded, as was Andrei, by exploding cannonball. He did not die immediately, and was transported to Moscow, but this city had to be evacuated quickly, because Napoleon’s forces were on the prowl, for new conquests, and Russia’s eternal city was soon swarming, like the pest, with foreign bodies.
Pierre Bezukhov also figures prominently in the text under examination. The illegitimate son of Count Vladimirovich is rich, intelligent, and often distracted, intellectual, somewhat ridiculous, and goodness often refracted, through this extraordinary character; he marries the lovely Helene, but could not share with her, his destiny. Their motives were impure, and both would bear the brunt, of failure arising because she wanted his wealth, and he desired her [expletive]. Predictably, they are miserable, and their pain is relieved via satisfying their baser appetites; she is unfaithful, while he drinks excessively and passes sleepless nights, gambling, womanising and finding temporary release, from the misery and hollowness which does not cease. Pierre tries to escape in religion and joins the Masons; he gives much to charity, fights a duel, but none of this provides the peace he is seeking.
The Masons preach against the evils of war, and so Pierre is constrained from fighting, for, doing so would betray his deeply held beliefs; all that changed, however, when Napoleon seeks, to conquer all of Mother Russia. Pierre is forced to reconsider, and also sees an opportunity to escape his deeply bitter, existence characterized with a loveless marriage and frequent licentiousness; he therefore decides to join the fight without any pretentiousness, about how successful he would be. In the battle of Borodino, this wealthy and miserable nobleman goes to the front lines, where cannon and bullets are mowing down his comrades by the nines; by chance alone does he escape the death which descended on others in the prime of their lives, cut down in youth’s blossom when it mostly thrives. He feels, during these dramatic scenes, that
The deeper he immersed himself in that sea of troops, the more he was overcome by anxious restlessness and a new joyful feeling he had never experienced before…it was a feeling of the need to undertake something and sacrifice something…he now experienced a pleasant sense of awareness that everything that constituted people’s happiness, the comforts of life, wealth, even life itself, is nonsense…the sacrificing itself constituted a new, joyful feeling for him.
His adventures do not end there; Napoleon must not be allowed to triumph in Moscow thinks Pierre. And so as others are evacuating the city, he remains and plots assassination, a suicidal mission to tear, through Napoleon’s head a single bullet while approaching him deceptively; certain death would occur inevitably. Pierre with other Russians is captured, and so his plan fails; the French firing squad begins to plaster, the wall behind them with blood and entrails. At the last second, Pierre is spared, and is taken back to the jail. Shortly after Napoleon realizes that he will fail, to conquer Russia, and so begins the French retreat. Pierre, meanwhile, has a new perspective on life; all the things that cut his heart like knife—Helene’s unfaithfulness, alcoholism, gambling—seem, after these experiences, utterly trifling, devoid of significance or importance, even amusing, as one disinterestedly observes, an unruly child finally snoozing, in his relieved mother’s arms. An important lesson of Pierre’s discovery of freedom from his troubles, however, is that it was unsought; he decided to join the battle, not to escape painful thoughts, but to pursue heroism and sacrifice. Pierre’s liberation from his self-imposed chains was the unintended consequence, not the aim.
Finally, Nikolai Rostov, Natasha’s brother, also experiences sorrow; he is in love with Sonya, his cousin, but could not envisage a better tomorrow, enveloped in her warm embrace. The reason is that she does not have a dowry, and hence cannot bring, badly needed money, to Nikolas and their potential offspring. What is more, the Rostov’s are in economic dire straits, in part because of Count Rostov and Nikolas’s unfortunate tastes, for gambling. Unquenched desire and economic insecurity, singularly or together, produce misery, but Nikolas finds release in the army, as he and his comrades, with their unbreakable bonds and collective mission, endeavor to liberate the fatherland from the French. During the intense fighting, Nikolas “had the happy air of a schoolboy called up before a large public at an examination in which he is sure he will distinguish himself.” As bullets and cannon whizzed by and mowed down his compatriots, “the sun began to hide itself behind the clouds. Ahead of Rostov, another stretcher [for the wounded] appeared. And his fear of death and the stretcher, and his love of life and the sun—all merged into one painfully disturbing impression.”
The many kinds of love in War and Peace
Love, like death, frustrates our efforts to understand, forces in the universe we often have little hand, in when or how they occur. Their mystery invites the pondering, of the mystical, unfathomable, and eternal. War and Peace does not skirt these puzzling questions, and via the lives of the main characters teaches us lessons, such as that there is no singular kind of love. It comes in many forms, some at the level of, some above, earthly considerations of desire and lust. The higher form is, so to speak, closer to the divine even if, in some circumstances, it cannot be consummated, while the lower form can bring much pleasure provided it is placated, within the confines of family and commitment. Between these extremes exist many different kinds, some of which through War and Peace’s characters the reader finds.
For example, after the death of Liza during childbirth, Andrei and Natasha fall in love with each other. This love gave Andrei a “vivid awareness of the terrible opposition between something infinitely great and indefinable that was in him, and something narrow and fleshy that he himself, and even she, was.” Both are youthful, attractive, wealthy, and imagine, with justification, the happiness of marriage and toddlers. These plans fall apart after Natasha’s betrayal; subsequently, misery, sorrow, and despair, could not fail, to pollute their existence equally, even though she holds primary responsibility. But during the retreat from Moscow, an unexpected miracle occurs, they reunite while she has recovered from the emotional injury, and he gravely wounded from an exploding canon during the battle of Borodino. Their love is reignited as she tends to him, providing comfort and relief from the pain on his festering, wound; akin, to a never ceasing object violently penetrating fragile skin. During his final moments on this earth he is surrounded, by Natasha’s pure love which is founded, on forgiveness, care, on the recognition of fragility, and not on carnal desire, with its potentially warping intensity.
Pierre, as mentioned above, was unlucky in love, and paid dearly for the mistake, in terms of misery and hate, for his pathetic union with a woman depraved. But she, like Andrei, is destined to an early grave, making Pierre an eligible bachelor; Natasha has a similar status, giving Pierre the opportunity to flatter her. In reality, little effort is needed, because their union is natural, destined, and perhaps seeded, by something greater than their mere wishes and desires, legitimate and normal, for the pleasures of matrimonial fires. This occurs despite some important differences; she is gorgeous and unpretentious, he is fat, absent-minded, and somewhat ridiculous. But he has a heart of gold, as does she; their motives are pure, and neither want to be free, from the responsibilities and duties associated with marriage and family, even though Pierre—unlike Natasha— has already tasted the forbidden fruits of the carnal tree.
Rostov falls in love with Sonya, the feeling is reciprocal. The reader is led to believe that their wishes will be fulfilled, an impression which remains until, certain obstacles get in the way. One is that Rostov’s family is broke and unable to pay, debts accumulated from badly managed finance, meaning Rostov’s marrying a rich woman is their only chance, to escape the pain and humiliation of economic insecurity, a fall from grace worsened by the Rostovs ancestral nobility. Nikolai’s inability to consummate his passion with the beautiful Sonya, plus his family’s desperate economic situation, is too much to bear, and to escape he goes and fights to prevent Napoleon’s attempt to tear, apart the Russian motherland. He performs valiantly and is promoted, loved by his men, happy to fight, and he has largely forgotten, the natural desire for Sonya’s delights.
His fate was destined with someone else. Marya, less pretty, very rich, and extremely devout, wants to leave Moscow, but cannot, because her peasants refuse to abandon their fertile plots, to Napoleon’s hungry soldiers. Nikolai arrives on her estate and discovers her plight, and the intransigent peasants would not dare put up a fight, with this battle-hardened warrior. Marya is saved from a fate much scarier, than she could contemplate, and in the process, a spark ignites which leads to her fate, of marriage with Nikolai. She is not as pretty as Sonya, but other qualities are ideal, on top of, her wealth, which saves the Rostovs from the bad hand dealt, to their economic fortunes.
Lessons of History
One of things that makes War and Peace a pleasure to read, is that one learns not only of the above characters’ deeds, but also an important period in history, namely, Napoleon’s attempt to establish a new Rome, an imperial republic with Bonaparte as ruler enthroned. Determining the destiny of Europe, perhaps the planet, seduced millions, and not only the French, which is why in Napoleon’s army was entrenched, with many nationalities, united in their reverence, for the sovereign emperor, his mere presence, was sufficient to drive them into paroxysms of furor. Napoleon would achieve, in his own words, a condition where:
Europe would become truly one people, and each person, traveling everywhere, would always have found himself in a common fatherland. It would have called for all rivers to be navigable for everyone, the commonality of the seas, and that the great standing armies be henceforth reduced to nothing but guards…on returning to France—great, strong, magnificent, peaceful, glorious—I would have proclaimed its limits immutable…I would have associated my son with the Empire; my dictatorship would have ended, and his constitutional reign would have begun…Paris would have been the capital of the world, and the French the envy of nations!
The reader witnesses Napoleon’s triumph, in the battle of Austerlitz, allowing the occupation of Vienna and the emperor’s unchallenged prominence, in Austria. Russia was next on the list, of countries and peoples to fall under Napoleon’s fist, and the emperor had grounds to believe, that in this endeavor he would succeed: mainly the Austrian, German, and Russian inability failure to stem, the power of the French Revolutionary forces’ canon, launched in the name of liberty, equality, fraternity, even as blood splattered among those on the receiving end.
The Battle of Borodino is one of the more riveting scenes of the book; Napoleon himself was present, although safely ensconced, far from the battlefield, where ferocious fighting occurred, between Napoleonic and Russian soldiers, half of the latter later interred, to an early grave. Technically the French won the fight, because eventually the Russians were in flight, allowing the latter to occupy the capital like a thief in the night. But it was a pyric victory as this proceeded losses, so large almost incredible among the French forces. They found Moscow empty of most of its citizens, who preferred the misery of escape and hunger rather than, being subjected to the rule of foreigners; moreover, to deny them the fruits of victory, the remaining Russians burned their sacred city. This scorched earth policy, as it came to be known, was another blow to the already weakened French, as was shown, by their deaths from disease and starvation. Under these conditions, and the approaching brutal Russian winter, the only hope for Napoleon’s forces to avoid huge losses and the sinister, relegation to history’s failures, was to return to French soil; and so they left. Despite all the blood, sweat, and toil, they were forced to leave their most prized possession, hoping to salvage what they could, in utter desperation. Very few survived when they finally reached France, the overwhelming majority stood no chance, against the cruel hands of fate; walking thousands of miles in freezing weather with nothing on their plates. Hunger, disease, and fatigue left many too weak to escape, and as they dropped, their young bodies were left to waste.
This was ultimately, says Tolstoy, the most important contributor, to the destruction of Napoleon’s attempt to become the emperor, of Europe, a design which would have destroyed all the other sovereigns, subjecting peoples to a vision that’s foreign, to their distinctive histories and nationalities. War and Peace takes a position, on the perennial debate between those who envision, a political order organized around the rights of man; on the other side are those who believe this is a mistaken plan, as nations—with their distinct cultures, languages, histories—cannot be erased; attempting to do so provokes displaced, peoples to respond with all available means, to defend their homeland from foreign invaders keen, to destroy, pillage, and violate, all in the name of freedom, and after much loss and sacrifice, the nationalists almost always beat them. 150 years after the publication of War and Peace, the debate between nationalists and universalists still inflames, public discourse although it goes by different names, such as liberal and conservative, highlighting how these disputes have not arrived at a definitive, denouement. Rather, the underlying ideas can still motivate movements, from Brexit to populists who denounce, liberals’ attempts to pounce, on national sovereignty, which, nationalists believe, must have absolute primacy, over attempts to open borders—to trade, ideas, migration—or at least make them porous.
The distinctive character of nations plays a major role in the text under discussion: Italians, Germans, but particularly French and Russian, nationalities are examined with Tolstoy’s analytical eye, and some of his observations are quite amusing, and this quote shows why:
[German general] Pfuel was one of those hopelessly, permanently, painfully self-assured men as only Germans can be, and precisely because only Germans can be self-assured on the basis of an abstract idea—science, an imaginary knowledge of perfect truth. A Frenchman is self-assured because he considers himself personally, in mind as well as body, irresistibly enchanting for men as well as women. An Englishman is self-assured on the grounds that he is a citizen of the best-organized state in the world, and therefore always knows what he must do, and knows that everything he does is unquestionably good. An Italian is self-assured because he is excitable and easily forgets himself and others. A Russian is self-assured precisely because he does not know anything and does not want to know anything, because he does not believe it possible to know anything fully. A German is self-assured worst of all, and most firmly of all, and most disgustingly of all, because he imagines that he knows the truth, science.
I am of Italian origin, and it is not difficult to say, that, as a people we are “excitable”. It is hard to deny the general thrust, of his claim that the differences between nations go deeper than the outer crust, of nationalist rhetoric. Despite the French represented as the main villain, they are not, in War and Peace, the main target of Tolstoy’s opprobrium. Rather, it is the Germans, who are presented in ways, that have a tendency to leave a rather bad taste, in one’s mouth. As many readers know, during the Napoleonic wars, Germans allied with Russians to defeat this scourge, that threatened them both with extinction, but despite their common purpose there was much friction. The Germans were supremely logical and scientific, but all their brilliant strategizing could not prevent, the humiliating defeat at the battle Austerlitz, which ultimately permitted Napoleon to continue his campaign to inflict, submission on Europe’s peoples.
The Russians, in contrast, were sentimental; intuitive, mystical, traits embodied in General Kutuzov’s elliptical, comments during his leadership of the battle of Borodino, which was decisive, in fatally weakening French forces at the time precisely, when they were on the cusp of achieving final victory against the enemy. This Russian general takes up a lot of space in the text, he a heroic, almost mythical figure, but not because he flexed, his muscles as did the French, like a baboon banging its chest. No; Kutuzov was aware of a much higher power, that was beyond the fetish for reason and which towered, above mere human designs. Calling it fate, God, or destiny, does not matter, for Kutuzov, it was real and could shatter, man’s greatest conceit, such as Napoleon’s vision that he could complete, the conquest of Europe. He was destined to lose, it was written in the stars, and so Kutuzov’s approach to fighting these wars, was not brilliant strategizing or military science; it was effort and sacrifice but included an alliance, with the detested Germans, who were not ideal partners, just less bad than, the hated French.
I’ll conclude this blogpost with some thoughts on the summer of 2021, in which I read War and Peace, all 1200 pages, while travelling in Europe and visiting many places. I accomplished the task by devoting a few hours a day, to the text while in Italy and Spain, in cities where I would stay, for several weeks at a time. First Salerno, then Barcelona, then Naples, and then my family’s ancestral town, characterized my travels during summer from June all the way down, to the end of August. It was exciting and dramatic for many different reasons, one of which was I landed in Spain just as the tourist season, took off, leading to an explosion of cases, of Covid 19 in many of the places, where I was.
This led to many close calls; in Barcelona I was informed, that three people I had interacted with several days before, were sick with Covid, and one can imagine my relief, when I tested negative; but nonetheless, after this episode it was my belief, that Spain was not safe, and so I returned to Italy, where I have citizenship, friends, and family. While there I felt at ease, partly because I was with people I love, who were pleased, that I was healthy and unharmed despite, being in Spain while Covid-19 infections ravaged through the night, of the nation’s hospitals. The commitment to read War and Peace was not easy, because while in Italy I was engaged in many other enjoyable activities: going to the beach, visiting friends, hiking, yoga, cultural events, and visits with family. What is more, War and Peace is not a text one can skim or read quickly; its philosophical depth and analytical profundity, not to mention the value derived from its historiography, mean that it is advisable to go slowly. Therefore, I took my time, doing my best to go over each and every line, sometimes twice or thrice, so that I could be sure, that I absorbed all the meaning Tolstoy wanted to confer. Doing this daily for several hours, allowed me to appreciate Tolstoy’s literary powers, which have placed him in the pantheon of history’s great thinkers, who shows how man’s conceit, such as Napoleon’s attempt to tinker, with the natural order will inevitably fail, while helpfully reminding readers that even the great are ephemeral and frail.
