Phantoms and Reflections
War and Peace Week 38: Book 3, Part 3, Chapter 33 – Book 4, Part 1, Chapter 4
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Welcome to Week 38 of War and Peace 2024
This week, we have read Book 3, Part 3, Chapter 33 – Book 4, Part 1, Chapter 4.
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This week’s theme: Phantoms and Reflections
One thousand pages ago, Pierre got drunk and tied a policeman to a bear. Those were the days.
It was the last time our hero had a run-in with the law, and the first time we got a taste of the boy's strength. And his weakness, for following the bottle and a bad idea.
‘On the 3rd of September, Pierre awoke late.’ Hey, what's new? He was late to his father's deathbed, and he was late to the battle of Borodino. Wine and sleep and indecision. Will our friend ever change?
He's got a plan to kill Napoleon. He knows he won't succeed, but he's not fighting Napoleon now. He's at war with his own nature; his own lack of resolve.
But still, Tolstoy whispers: those who seek self-sacrifice and heroism are the most useless in society. They never understand the events of which they take part.
So today is the 3rd of September, and Pierre has awoken late. His city is burning. His mentor is dead. His friend is dead. The woman he loves cannot, and should not, love the man he has become.
Into the fire, he goes, our star-chasing sleepwalking giant. ‘Only unconscious action bears fruit,’ whispers Tolstoy. Do not think, Pierre. Act.
Pierre acts. ‘He stopped as if awakening from a dream.’ His second wake-up today. To save a three-year-old girl from a burning building. A sickly, slobbering child who tries to bite him out of fear.
It will not change History, but it is the most noble thing he has ever done. As he retraces his steps, a new determination grows within him. For it is better to be a good man than a Great one.
He is arrested for arson, but if he is executed now, it will be for saving lives, not taking them.
Meanwhile, four hundred miles away, his wife, pregnant with another man's child, has overdosed on a ‘certain drug to produce a certain effect.’ Could he have saved her life too? Hélène, the woman we never knew?
She and her brother (lover?) are dead. And that should matter.
Should matter more than the phantoms and reflections of high society. Matter more than their father's elocution and their brother's half wit.
It is the 3rd of September, Pierre is awake, and the whole world is sleeping.
Chapter 33: Back to Life
Pierre wakes up late and hungover. He resolves to continue with his plan to prove to himself that he would not abandon his intentions. He takes his dagger into the burning city. He finds a family with their belongings on the street. They have lost their daughter, and Pierre volunteers to find her. He encounters French looters who show him where the child is among the burning buildings. She screams and tries to bite him; he is repulsed but takes her and looks for a way out.
Pierre felt as if he had come back to life out of a deep coma.
I think it is significant that both Andrei and Pierre find truer, better versions of themselves when forced to abandon their grand plans and solitary schemes.
Andrei lost his desire for revenge and found peace on the border of death. Pierre, for the second time, forgets his plans to kill Napoleon, in order to save a stranger.
This time, a little girl, saved from the fire that spreads rapidly through the city.
What interests me here is that his ‘chief aim consisted not in carrying out his design, but in proving to himself that he would not abandon his intention.’ We readers have often been frustrated by how Pierre lacks convictions; he is unable to complete anything he starts. Pierre feels that too, and intends to follow through just to show he can.
But this chapter turns everything on its head. That weakness of character, in fact, belies the strength of his humanity.
An ordinary family
Marya Nikolaevna is the wife of a Muscovite civil servant. Her family is not aristocratic like the Rostovs, and here we glimpse into the confusion, disarray, and tragedy of normal Muscovites fleeing the French and the fire. Coincidentally, she shares her name with Maria Nikolaevna Bolkonskaya, Andrei’s sister.
Katyechka, her youngest daughter, has been left behind as they fled the fire. Can a parent imagine anything more horrifying? Perhaps Pierre expected a sweet cherub. He finds a ‘sickly, scrofulous-looking child, unattractive like her mother’, who acts as any three-year-old might in such a situation: she tries to bite him. The realism undercuts any heroic romanticism hoped for by Pierre or us readers.
The family’s ugliness contrasts with the ‘oriental beauty’ Pierre seeks to save in the next chapter. If that looks more like heroism to Pierre, it doesn’t end well. The phrase ‘oriental beauty’ mirrors Napoleon’s fantasies of possessing (and saving) Moscow. Both men discover that reality does not correspond with what is happening in their heads.
Did Pierre intend to carry out his plan to kill Napoleon? And why does the sound of Marya Nikolaevna weeping make him feel like he has awoken from a dream?
Have you or someone you know ever saved a life? How does Pierre’s experience compare?
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Chapter 34: Fire Starter
When Pierre returns to where the family were, they have gone. He gives the girl to a peasant woman and goes to the aid of an Armenian family being accosted by marauders. The French overpower him and discover his dagger. He is arrested as a suspected arsonist and taken with five other suspects to a guardhouse on the Zubov Rampart.
Pierre was in such a transport of rage that he remembered nothing and his strength increased tenfold.
So it all comes together. That great bear strength, that rage. His renewed ‘youth, animation, and determination.’ The instinct to save life rather than take it. And to be a good rather than a Great Man.
He has no family. His best friend, he believes is dead. No one knows who he is. He is no one: ‘I will not tell you who I am. I am your prisoner.’
But outslips that ‘aimless lie’: here is my daughter who I saved from the fire. This wild animal who repulsed me, but who later made me smile.
Here is something. The fatherless son, the fat buffoon. He makes himself a father. The fire makes him briefly a brave father and then a prisoner, accused of arson. But the only fire he has started, is the one within.
Fire starters
Adrien Bourgogne, a sergeant in the French army, wrote in his memoirs that:
Orders had been given to shoot everyone found setting fire to houses. This order was executed at once. A little open space next to the Place du Gouvernement was called by us the Place des Pendus, as here a number of incendiaries were shot and hung on the trees.
Square of the Hanged. Is this where Pierre is being taken? During the occupation of Moscow, up to 400 citizens were shot on suspicion of arson.
When I first read that Pierre planned to assassinate Napoleon, I suspected he would end up in French custody – if he survived at all. Tolstoy gave those expectations a couple of ironic twists: he saved a Frenchman from a bullet, he rescued citizens from the flames, and instead of attempted assassination, he was arrested for arson.
The outcome is the same, but the story has been far more interesting than if Pierre had carried out his terrible mission.
Why does Pierre call the child his daughter? And what do you think will happen now that Pierre is in custody?
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Book Four, Part One
Chapter 1: Phantoms and Reflections
We return to Petersburg and rewind time to the eve of the Battle of Borodino. Petersburg remains lost in its own world, detached from the fate of Russia. Anna Pavlovna has arranged a very patriotic soirée where Prince Vasili reads out an address from the bishop. Bilibin is making good jokes; Prince Ippolit is making bad ones. Some things never change. Everyone tries to remain discreet about the condition of Hélène, who has fallen ill and is seeing an Italian doctor.
Prince Vasili • Prince Ippolit • Bilibin • Anna Pavlovna • Hélène
We left Pierre, Natasha and Andrei discovering the true meaning of life. We begin Book Four in a whirlwind of ‘phantoms and reflections’ where nothing corresponds to reality:
Prince Vasili reads a letter in a theatrical manner, stressing words regardless of their meaning. His son tells a joke no one can understand because it has no thought behind it. All on the day of Borodino, when thousands die for no good reason. Anna Pavlovna's party is the performance of patriotism without an iota of true concern for the ‘difficult position of the Russian people.’
Vasili’s daughter is ill. Everyone appears to know that Countess Bezukhova is pregnant and that the special Italian doctor is presumably attempting an abortion. No one will mention this.
They all knew very well that the enchanting countess’s illness arose from an inconvenience resulting from marrying two husbands at the same time, and that the Italian’s cure consisted in removing such inconvenience; but in Anna Pavolvna’s presence no one dared to think of this or even appear to know it.
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‘The two Empresses’
Tolstoy refers to how Tsar Alexander’s wife, Elizabeth Alexeievna and his mother, the Dowager Empress Maria Feodorovna, behaved differently ‘in these difficult circumstances.’ Maria Feodorovna was born Sophie Dorothea, the daughter of a German duke. As Tolstoy implies, she was closely associated with national charities, especially the housing and education of orphans. She set up the first Russian school for the deaf and supported the career of the blind musician Charlotta Seuerling.
The Tsarina, Elizabeth Alexeievna, was born Princess Louise Maria Auguste of Baden of the House of Zähringen. She was fourteen when she married the future Tsar Alexander. Her two daughters, both rumoured to be illegitimate, died before their second birthday. Despite the infidelity of her husband and her own affairs, she was politically loyal and supportive of the Tsar.
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On the performance of patriotism
In recent chapters, we saw Pierre’s determination to save a child from the Moscow fire, and Natasha’s compassion for the wounded soldiers arriving from Borodino. These authentic, unconscious and involuntary acts of solidarity seem a world away from the salons of Petersburg. Here, people are ‘concerned only about phantoms and reflections of real life.’ Anna Pavlovna’s patriotic circle engage in what we might today call ‘virtue signalling’, an affected and artificial display of caring.
So these chapters are full of meaningless or deceptive actions. Anna Pavlovna shaming her French theatre-going guests. Prince Ippolit trying to be witty by saying the first words that come into his head.
But my favourite example is Prince Vasili’s reading of the bishop’s letter to the emperor. ‘Famed for his elocution,’ he rolls the words, murmurs and wails, seemingly at random. His theatrical performance is valued far more than the letter he is reading.
What would Anna Pavlovna’s patriotic circle be doing in 2024?
And how do you find the shift in time, place and mood at the start of Book Four?
Chapter 2: A Certain Effect
The next day, on the emperor’s birthday, news arrives from Kutuzov of a great victory. Petersburg celebrates while regretting the death of the ‘young and interesting’ Kutaysov. Prince Vasili claims to have always known that Kutuzov would defeat Napoleon. Next day, there is no news, much anxiety and the sudden death of Hélène Bezukhova. The cause of her death is mentioned only in intimate circles. On the third day, Petersburg learns of the surrender of Moscow, and Vasili calls Kutuzov ‘a blind and depraved old man.’ The following day, the emperor writes to Kutuzov demanding an explanation.
Alexander • Prince Vasili • Hélène
A certain drug to produce a certain effect.
News of the fall of Moscow and Hélène's death are ‘melancholy facts’ that cannot be dealt with sincerely or seriously by Petersburg high society.
Instead of the real tragedy unfolding in Moscow, they talk about the betrayal of Kutuzov and the anxiety caused to the emperor.
Instead of dwelling on the hypocrisy that forces a woman to risk her life to end a pregnancy, they talk about a heart condition and a charlatan foreign doctor.
And poor Hélène. No one, not even us readers, took her ‘difficult position’ seriously. She wrote to Pierre, perhaps a cry for help that was never heard. Pierre saved lives in Moscow, both French and Russian. But did he miss the opportunity to help Hélène? We will now never know.
On abortion and suicide
In the Russian Empire, peasants could call on rural midwives and ‘wise women’ for folk remedies and interventions to end unwanted pregnancies. Peter the Great’s 1715 penal code introduced the death penalty for infanticide – but did not mention abortion. However, in the 19th Century, assisting abortion could be punished by scourging and hard labour.
Towards the end of the Russian Empire, the medical community pushed for the legalisation of abortion on the grounds of safety. And in 1920, the Soviet government became the first in Europe to legalise abortion. Soviet posters continued to warn about the dangers of home abortions.
It would appear Hélène died from an overdose and possibly an act of suicide:
Hélène, tortured by the fact that the old count suspected her and that her husband to whome she had written (that wrecteched, profligate Pierre) had not replied, had suddenly taken a very large dose of the drug, and had died in agony before assistance could be rendered her.
This is the second case of suicide in the novel, after Natasha’s failed attempt. Both instances are accompanied by Tolstoy’s critical view of medical professionals, a topic he returns to in his novella The Death of Ivan Ilyich. His next novel, Anna Karenina, will also tackle the issue of suicide.
Tolstoy suffered extreme bouts of depression, which, in his own words, brought him to the ‘verge of suicide.’ Later in life, he wrote that suicide was ‘immoral’ and that we have no right to abandon life simply because it is unpleasant. ‘All work,’ he wrote, ‘appears at first unpleasant.’
And yet Tolstoy writes with compassion on the subject. Hélène is one of the least sympathetic characters in the novel, but we forget this in the tragedy of her death. I can see her waiting for Pierre’s response, feeling terribly alone in her social milieu. She reminds me of a celebrity, who everyone knows of, but of whom nobody knows.
We never get to see the real Hélène. And that strikes me as one of the greatest tragedies in this book.
Why did Hélène die? And how do you feel about her death?
Chapter 3: A Russian Heart
Over a week later, a Frenchman called Michaud delivers Kutuzov’s response, officially informing Tsar Alexander of the surrender and destruction of Moscow. The emperor appears stricken with grief and declares his intention to defeat the French or otherwise become a potato-eating peasant unfit to rule.
The messenger was Michaud, a Frenchman who did not know Russian, but who was, although a foreigner, a Russian in the depths of his soul, as he said of himself.
An ‘illuminated’ emperor
What did you think about Colonel Michaud’s audience with the emperor?
There are two sides to this. Continuing the themes of affectation and inauthentic feeling, the two men speak in French – often a sign in Tolstoy’s writing that the characters are not being completely sincere. And there is something amusing about Michaud with his Russian heart and soul, but no grasp of the Russian language.
But this was a key moment in Alexander’s life. He wrote later that the burning of Moscow, ‘illuminated his soul.’ He began to read the Bible diligently. He interpreted prophecies in the scriptures as a signal that he was to save Christendom from the anti-Christ, Napoleon. Later in Paris, he met the mystic Barbara von Krüdener, who deepened his religious fervour and influenced his ideas in later life.
In this scene, Michaud’s wordplay and faux-patriotism contrasts with Alexander’s tears, ‘agitated voice’ and ‘firm resolution.’ Do we believe him when he says he’d rather eat potatoes with his peasants and grow his beard than give in to Napoleon. I don’t think Tolstoy doubts for one moment the sincerity of the emperor’s convictions.
Tolstoy has THOUGHTS about all that Great Man stuff. But he can't deny the authenticity of the emperor's feelings. Both Alexander the man and Alexander the emperor should look shocked at the news. So in him, the public and the personal are one.
Chapter 4: Better Late Than Never
Tolstoy reminds us that even in moments of national crisis, most people are not thinking of heroic self-sacrifice. Take for example, Nikolai Rostov, who is happy not to be close to the field of action, but far off at Vorenzh buying horses. He enjoys a smoke in a snuggery and a party at the Governor’s house, where he flirts naively with another man’s wife.
Only unconscious action bears fruit, and he who plays a part in a historic event never understands its significance. If he tries to realize it his efforts are fruitless.
Ah, Nikolai! It's been a minute.
When Tolstoy is talking about useless self-sacrifice, we can't help but think of Pierre trying to kill Napoleon, or Alexander dedicating himself to save Russia.
Nikolai isn't into self-sacrifice. And instead he's having a rather good war. But unlike Boris or Berg, we get a sense there is a soul behind his egotism. He's loving life, and life seems to be loving him.
And this chapter is a glimpse into provincial life as Moscow burns: a landowner with a snuggery, splendid horses and fine Hungarian wine. A ball, with dancing and ‘an inexhaustible number of pretty women.’ It seems like Nikolai is the last happy Rostov on Earth, determined to hold on to the good times.
After all the death and destruction, I find I don’t begrudge Nikolai. I am relieved. And quite happy to see at least one of our main characters enjoying themselves. Nikolai has changed a great deal from his days at Tilsit, dreaming of dying for his Tsar. But in other ways, for good and ill, he remains very much the same flawed young man.
Is Nikolai happy? What awaits him in the rest of the book?
Thank you for reading
Thank you for reading and joining me on this slow read of War and Peace.
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You present such a thoughtful and insightful account, Simon. There is so much to unpack in this novel, all of which is a lesson in writing as much as it is a lesson in reading.
I get a chill when I read "melancholy facts" and "a certain drug to produce a certain effect." All of this reflects so darkly in the politics in the U.S. today, not only in women's autonomy over their bodies (and unnecessary and tragic deaths resulting from fear of doctors), but also in the gun culture here. "Melancholy facts" brings to mind "thoughts and prayers," as if these are all things that are an "unfortunate fact of life."