Author: williamxenakis

War and Peace is such a unique book for countless reasons, but one that has particularly stood out to me is the way that Tolstoy crafts villainous characters throughout the plot. In typical fictional stories, there is often an antagonist that follows the main character throughout the story with a motive that contrasts that of the protagonist. This concept of villainy in War and Peace is complicated by the pure number of characters we are introduced to and the insight Tolstoy chooses to give us into these characters’ goals and intentions. Throughout the book there are no singular characters who consistently seek to oppose another character; the book is simply too long and too complicated. However, I would still argue that there are villains in this story. There are characters whose rash and unthoughtful actions have detrimental impacts on other main characters in the book.

Across 1178 pages, Tolstoy has spent time crafting images of intricate characters. He gives us internal monologues, 3rd person descriptions, and most importantly, he gives us glimpses of how these characters think and how they react to the world around them. What is so critical about these insights is that they give us the ability to see how the characters change throughout the book. Through Pierre’s discussion with Andrei about the lives and treatment of serfs we can observe how both Pierre and Andrei’s views have been shaped and altered by their experiences. What separates the villains in the book from the characters we learn to love is the fact that they are not given a chance to change, or when given such a chance, they turn their back.

Tolstoy the Historian vs Tolstoy the Storyteller

Throughout the book I have found myself thinking a lot and writing a few blog posts about the nature of Tolstoy’s writing. What I mean by this is I often find myself struggling to discern between Tolstoy’s true historical research and work, and Tolstoy’s biased opinions on the French. On the other hand, there have been moments in the book where I have been frustrated by Tolstoy’s explicit, obvious hatred for Napoleon as a leader and a human. As I’ve written before, I now find it difficult to view Napoleon as anything but a fictional character in War and Peace. As of right now, I am not entirely certain as to how I would approach this topic of bias in Tolstoy’s writing and the effect it has on the audience, as this is such a broad topic and would easily fit much more than just five pages.

Villains

Another topic that one of my previous blog posts was about was the concept of villainy and villains in War and Peace. If I chose this topic I would like to explore the way that Tolstoy develops the “villainous” characters and the way he crafts their interactions with the other major characters of the book. I find it very interesting that for each major character, we are given some insight into their mind. Much of the book is from the perspective of our main characters. However, for characters like Helen or Anatole, we are not given so much as a peak into their deeper intentions. These two can fit into the name of “villain”, and we are forced to form opinions of them solely through their external actions. What is even more intriguing is that Napoleon may be the greatest villain in this book, and we do get much insight into his mind and thought process. Perhaps for a paper on this topic I could explore the ways in which Napoleon as a villain differs from Helen and Anatole.

Death

After our discussion in class today I also wanted to add this possible topic to my list (morbid I know). I found the contrast between Andrei’s and Petya’s deaths quite compelling. Perhaps it might be interesting to dive into all the major deaths in the book and compare and contrast the ways in which Tolstoy approaches each death. I could look at how the different styles of writing and the actual scenes of each death affect the reader differently. I know it might be too much to dive into every major death in the book, there have been quite a few, but perhaps I could look at Andrei, Petya, Helen, and Platon.

Alexander vs Napoleon

I may be interested in exploring the characters of the two major emperors in War and Peace, Alexander and Napoleon. The way that Tolstoy describes these two historical figures and the way they are compared both directly and indirectly has consistently intrigued me as we’ve been reading. However, I am not as keen about this topic, so of all my ideas this is the least likely.

Time and again we have heard from Tolstoy and his opinion on the nature of war and chance. We have heard Tolstoy voice over and over that there is no true reason for the events that happen during war or even life, they simply were meant to happen. Issues resolve themselves in the end. After reading almost 1000 pages of War and Peace, I find it interesting the extent to which Tolstoy employs his own logic in the story of the book. Although I have come to dislike the way Tolstoy presents certain historical characters in his story, I must admit I admire his consistency. Just like Tolstoy consistently bashes Napoleon and the French, he also shows consistency with his employment of the inevitable and random nature of life in his plot. In just the last 150 pages (as of page 950) there have been four major events of coincidence or random occurrence that stand out as almost too perfect for the plot. They begin with the Battle of Borodino.

During the Battle of Borodino both Andrei and Anatole are both severely wounded. Andrei had been looking for Anatole for months after the ordeal between Anatole and Natasha and, having failed to find him, settled back into command of a regiment. Yet, during the most gruesome battle of the war, Anatole and Andrei both end up wounded and brought to the same medical tent to be treated. Upon seeing Anatole injured in the tent with him, Andrei “remembered everything, and a rapturous pity and love for this man filled his happy heart” (814). And just like that, the conflict between Andrei and Anatole is resolved. Forty pages later, Andrei ends up at the Rostov’s house and Natasha brings the wounded in and then with them out of Moscow. Again, just like that, the unresolved nature of Natasha and Andrei’s relationship is set up perfectly to be resolved soon. However, very briefly, the resolution hits a roadblock. Sonya and the countess find out about Andrei before Natasha can and decide not to tell her, as “they knew their Natasha, and the dread of what would happen to her at this news stifled in them any sympathy for the man, whom they both liked” (864). But again, this roadblock is swiftly demolished when “Sonya, to the countess’s astonishment and vexation, had found it necessary, no one knew why, to tell Natasha about Prince Andrei’s wound and his presence with them in the train” (915). For seemingly no reason, Sonya sets up the reunion of Natasha and Andrei, and thus furthers the plot of the book perfectly.

These “coincidences” don’t just follow Andrei either. Very recently, after being sent away from the battlefront, Nikolai gets assigned to a small village where Marya has taken residence. They are immediately matched up by the governor’s wife and their love story begins again. How could all these seemingly random events match up so perfectly in order to further the plot? Well, this is a fiction book after all, and Tolstoy loves the idea of chance. However, I think he took it too far. To put all these events consecutively is quite bold. It almost seems like, as we’re nearing the end of the book, every single storyline needs to be resolved so he’s just throwing in “coincidences”. But I remain optimistic. Tolstoy has never failed to surprise me, and I’m sure there will be quite a few more plot twists before this big book comes to a close.

What would happen if the beloved leader of a nation being invaded disappeared at the most important part of the war? One might guess there would be uproar and fear, right? Well, apparently not. As of page 915 of War and Peace, the last time we heard about the sovereign’s actions was when he appointed Kutuzov commander in chief. Even then, we hear about this through the lens of Prince Vassily and Anna Pavlovna. Thirty-five pages later we are told that the sovereign left Moscow. We have not been told about him since. Odd, no?

Throughout the book, the sovereign Alexander has always been somewhat of a mystery. Tolstoy throws him in here and there, always for the same reason: to arouse the troops and instill a certain sense of patriotism in the soldiers and in the nobles. In the span of 5 pages, we see this happen twice. First, on page 675 we observe Petya in a crowd of people fighting over biscuits the sovereign is throwing down from his balcony. Everyone in the crowd is absolutely elated to be in the presence of their leader; they yell “Angel! Father! Hurrah! Dearest!” (675) at the very sight of him. Just a few pages later we see Pierre among the nobility, waiting to greet the sovereign. Once Alexander enters the room he immediately instills in the nobles a sense of nationalism so great that they are willing to donate their men and fortunes in service of the country. We are told that “Pierre had no other feelings at the moment except the desire to show that it was all nothing to him, and he was ready to sacrifice everything” (681). However, it is interesting that among the nobles, this general feeling of unwavering service to the nation disappears once the sovereign leaves; after they get home they groan and are “astonished at what they had done” (681). This is the first indication that the sovereign is not necessarily beloved in all aspects of life. From this point on, the character of Alexander seems to go downhill. We are told that “Alexander refused all negotiations because he felt himself personally offended” (682), then when he stays with the army during the war “his presence… destroys the first army’s energy for action” (684). Finally, the sovereign leaves the army and we lose sight of him. In these final chapters before Alexander’s departure, Tolstoy strangely adds a new side to the emperor that we haven’t fully seen before. We see weakness in his leadership and in his character. Yet, just as we begin to see his complexities, Tolstoy strips him from the story for at least 200 pages. The war continues, Moscow is lost, we hear from Napolean, Kutuzov, and Rastopchin, but no one bothers to mention Alexander. Why did Tolstoy do this and when will we see the sovereign again?

I’ll admit, last night’s reading was a lot to take in. With constant battle details and quick, important glimpses into multiple different characters, I definitely had to reread a few pages. But throughout the whole twenty pages of the reading, the same thought kept coming to my mind: “Come on Tolstoy, really? I know you’re biased towards the Russians, but you don’t have to be so damn obvious about it!” This isn’t the first time I’ve had this reaction to parts of War and Peace either.

As Pierce wrote about in his first blog post, Napoleon has never been portrayed in a flattering manner. It was obvious from the beginning that Tolstoy didn’t like Napoleon from the way Tolstoy constantly described Napoleon’s physical appearance and actions. However, only recently has Tolstoy been so bold as to express Napoleon’s thoughts and feelings. When describing Napoleon’s reaction to the battle not going his way, Tolstoy writes, “Napoleon was experiencing a painful feeling similar to that which is always experienced by a lucky gambler, who madly threw his money about, always won, and suddenly… feels that the more he thinks over his move, the more certain he is to lose” (803). It would have been enough to say that Napoleon must have been questioning his moves since his last ones didn’t work, but no. Tolstoy must throw in that Napoleon was a “lucky gambler”, “madly” making decisions that just happened to work in the past. Tolstoy continues to describe the emperor as feeling “the terror of irresistible destruction [that] takes hold of the helpless man” (804). Again, come on Tolstoy, you’re making it too noticeable. Yet, even after these quotes, I was still on the line about Tolstoy’s portrayal of Napoleon. It was on page 815 that I was pushed over the edge when Tolstoy steps away from the action for three paragraphs writing:

“Never to the end of [Napoleon’s] life was he able to understand goodness, or beauty, or truth, or the meaning of his own actions, which were too much the opposite of goodness and truth, and too far removed from everything human for him to be able to grasp their meaning. He could not renounce his actions, extolled by half the world, and therefore he had to renounce truth and goodness and everything human” (815).

Now I know I didn’t have to include the whole block-quote, but I felt it was necessary to fully grasp what Tolstoy is claiming about Napoleon here. He’s calling Napoleon inhuman. Plain and simple. Tolstoy’s saying there isn’t a shred of honesty or virtue in the emperor.

Often while reading War and Peace I have to remind myself that some parts are fiction and others are fact. However, Tolstoy has been so blatant in his bashing of Napoleon that I now find myself feeling sympathetic to Napoleon sometimes. In his writing, Tolstoy has completely obliterated the historical figure of the French emperor and turned him into a totally fictional character, at least for me. After this particular reading, I have been forced to reconsider the claim of my last blog post that there are no true villains in the book. Perhaps, in Tolstoy’s eyes, Napoleon is the overarching villain in his view.

Are there villains in War in Peace? In your typical fictional story, there is always a villain. Harry Potter has Voldemort (yes I said his name), Frodo has Sauron, and Sherlock has Moriarty. However, in such a vast book as War and Peace, is there anyone who can be classified as a villain? My answer…maybe.

If we think of a villain as someone who purposefully intends to ruin a hero of the story, we can’t say any one person is a villain simply because no one person is the hero. All the characters we’ve met live lives that are intertwined with one another. Sometimes they clash. Sometimes they make poor decisions, and we are left rooting for one over the other. But no one character is actively seeking the destruction of another character at every point in the book. Granted, there are exceptions. The old prince clashed with many characters before his death. Dolokhov has been known to create havoc and chaos in the scenes he appears in. Napoleon and his conquest are the very reason many of the conflicts arise in the book. However, all of these men are strangely humanised by Tolstoy at some point in the book. We witness the old prince in his last days, struggling with mortality. We are told of Dolokhov and his family after he is wounded in a duel with Pierre. Finally, we hear about Napoleon so often that we can’t put him off as simply a villain when he is so much more than that in the context of this book. So far, Tolstoy has taken time to tell us enough about these men and their lives and thoughts that we are unable to despise them fully, which brings us to the Kuragins.

Among the family of Kuragins, Anatole and Helene seem to be the most villainous. Prince Vassily is somewhat humanized as Tolstoy does with the previously mentioned characters. He acts out of his own self interest, but he still acts mostly with respect for others. His son Ippolit has been described as a moron and is mostly useless to the story (sorry Ippolit). However, Helene and Anatole are something different. Throughout the book, we do not get much insight into the minds of the two. We are shown their actions and outward appearance. But, we certainly don’t see anything that might qualify as basic human decency. Time and again we see Helene manipulate people to get her way. We’ve seen her torment Pierre and take advantage of him. And, we’ve seen her lure a happy, engaged Natasha into the grasp of her lusty, conniving brother when she saw a weakness in Natasha’s love for Andrei. Anatole is portrayed through and through as a man out for nothing but himself and his pleasure. He doesn’t care who’s in the way and who he hurts along the way. We’ve seen how he acted with Marya, with Natasha, and we’re even told of a peasant girl he married simply to sleep with her. If instead, we think of a villain as someone who does nothing but evil and wrong, then we may be able to call Anatole a villain and perhaps Helen as well. However, we cannot think of them as typical villains of fiction.

Throughout War and Peace thus far, we have seen Prince Nikolai Andreevich (the old prince) on many different occasions and in many different contexts. Interestingly, he is one of the few characters that has stayed consistent to who they were when we first met them (for the most part). Time and time again, we see the old prince sticking to his habits and ways of life. Sure, there is some slight variation. For example, he becomes close with Mlle Bourienne, however, this seems to be mostly to spite Marya. The old prince is known among his associates and family, as well as the audience of War and Peace, for having his routine, and stubbornly sticking to that routine throughout life, until now.

On page 686, we are thrown back into the life of the Prince and Marya right where we left them. Andrei has just left, and the Prince deals with it by yelling at Marya and locking himself away in his room for a week. He “[stops] all his former relations with Mlle Bourienne” (686) as well. But there is something different about the old prince after his self-seclusion: “One thing that troubled Princess Marya was that he slept little, and, having abandoned his habit of sleeping in the study, changed his sleeping place every day” (687). The old prince “abandoned his habit”, furthermore, he sleeps somewhere different every night. Finally, we are told that the old prince now enjoys working on his will. Death is on his mind. He keeps himself active during the day, yet when night comes, “he knew he would not be able to fall asleep and that the worst thoughts came to him in bed” (690). When the old prince finally lies down for the night, he thinks to himself, “Oh, if only these labors would be over quickly, quickly, and you would release me!” (691).

The old prince has reached a point in his life where he is left reflecting on his past. He knows what is soon to come, he almost welcomes it, but at this moment he can’t stop thinking. When he closes his eyes at the bottom of page 691, he sees a proud moment from his past when he met Catherine the Great for the first time. Perhaps this was more than just a meeting, as the words “with favors” suggest, but that’s a different story. Regardless, the old prince longs to go back to his past. He longs for peace, whether that be in his life, his thoughts, or his body.

“The two most powerful warriors are patience and time” (Leo Tolstoy). I first heard these words just last night while I was meditating. The app I use for help always ends each session with a quote. Last night, the quote was Tolstoy’s. I immediately went to my computer to find the context in which Tolstoy had said or written these words and to my surprise, I found that the quote was false. Despite these words being well known as Tolstoy’s, it is actually Kutosov who says a variation in War and Peace. When speaking with Andrei about the nature of battles and war, Kutosov explains, “And yet, my dear boy, there’s nothing strong than those two warriors, patience and time” (744). This quote by Kutosov raised the question for me, what roles do patience and time play in War and Peace?

Throughout the book thus far, almost every main character deals with patience and time. The characters these forces seem to affect the most are Pierre, Andrei, and Natasha. Pierre, on multiple occasions, shows his lack of patience that results in his failures. After being inducted into the Masons, Pierre is overcome with an urge to do good and speaks to a steward of his estates about making life better for his serfs. However, when discussing the next steps, Pierre becomes lost in the “complexity of processes of lifting prohibitions… and only said to [the steward]: ‘Yes, yes, do that’” (379). Lacking the patience to oversee the changes himself, Pierre entrusts his vision with his steward who promptly does none of Pierre’s wishes. This lack of patience, leading to failure, happens again when Pierre speaks to the Masonry. When he is reprimanded for his “radical” ideas Pierre becomes “overcome by that anguish he feared so much” (436), yet he does nothing to pursue his ideas further. Throughout Pierre’s life, he has struggled with the conflict between his lack of patience and his need to feel useful and find meaning in doing good.

Another character who struggles with patience is Natasha. Each time we are reintroduced to her, she seems to be in a hurry to do something she believes will fill her with elation or distract her. Whenever we get a glimpse of her thoughts, they are constantly darting around. This is overwhelmingly noticeable in the ordeal with Anatole. Natasha had been struggling with her separation from Andrei, and her lack of patience builds up to the scenes in which she is swept up by Anatole’s charm and the promise of something new and daring. Her susceptibility to Anatole also suggests her fear of time passing. Before meeting Anatole, Natasha had slowly come to think “that her best time, which she could have used in loving [Andrei], was being wasted” (533-534). This theme of Natasha growing older is prevalent through the book, and in almost every occurrence, we have seen Natasha fight against her situation and fight against time.

Last of these characters that patience and time affect most is Andrei. Andrei shows the most patience of all the main characters. He works hard to ensure that his serfs’ lives are improved. He deals with his father and sister with respect even when he disagrees, which is exemplified when he agrees to go away for a year before marrying Natasha. Most notably, in the political world, he listens and absorbs all that is said around him, waiting to see how things play out. Yet, he is constantly at the mercy of time. His feelings toward the world are constantly changing as time goes on, he loses his fiancee because he is away too long, and most recently he is pulled back into a war that was believed to be over.

Throughout War and Peace, patience and time are portrayed as two forces which can have an enormous effect over the lives of the characters. Yet, as a final thought, let me pose a question: to what extent does Tolstoy himself believe in Kutozov’s words that these forces are the strongest of all? Hopefully, as the book continues we’ll get to hear more from Tolstoy himself in his essays, and we’ll be more able to answer this question more firmly.