“L’russe Besuhof, which equalled 666. This discovery exited him. He did not know how, by what connection he was bound up with that great event which had been predicted in the Apocalypse; but he did not doubt that connection for a moment”(Tolstoy 665).
Pierre recently fell down a rabbit hole of numerology and confirmation bias. Feeling out of place in Moscow, Pierre is miserable and looking for any signs that something soon would be coming to change his life. He found this in Numerology, or the, “use of numbers to interpret a person’s character or to divine the future” that was popular in masonry. He then finds out that Napoleon’s name adds up to 666, or the number of the beast that appears in the Bible in Apocalypse chapter 13, verse 8. Pierre takes this sign as a fact that Napoleon himself is the beast. He then falls down the trap of confirmation bias, or when someone only looks at evidence that tends to support their own beliefs. Pierre attempts to find another name that will have the same power, believing that someone can match Napoleon in a situation reminiscent of a double negative. He tries the Emperor Alexander but quickly turns to his own name. Just like the two British girls with the same name finding each other through a red balloon, Pierre only looks at evidence that supports that he has the number of the beast. Through trial and error and multiple iterations of his own name, Pierre gets from Compte Pierre Beouhoff to L’russe Besuhof by butchering his name in order to have it add up to 666. Pierre creates a conspiracy and arrives at the conclusion that “His love for Miss Rostov, the Antichrist, Napoleon’s invasion, the comet, 666, l’emereur Napoleon and l’russe Besuhof — all that that must ripen, burst, and lead him out of … Moscow … and bring him to a great deed and great happiness”( Tolstoy 665). Pierre takes all of the information that makes sense, and some that still doesn’t, and come up with the convoluted idea that recent events are all linked to him after it was discovered that Napoleon’s name adds up to 666.
It is quite evident from our most recent reading that the Old Prince, Prince Nikolái Andréevich Bolkónsky, is not in his right mind. Is he just growing old and senile, and thus a tad bit delusional? Or does the Old Prince suffer from a more serious medical condition?
What ails Bolkónsky?
We start to see slight changes in his behavior beginning with his unusual interactions with the various people in his household at Bald Hills. He apparently “stopped all his former relations with Mlle Bourienne,” (686) whom he previously was quite enamored with. As a reader, when I was first was introduced to this information, I was struck; was it possible that Andrei’s words actually reached the Old Prince and that he internalized Andrei’s message, realizing the division created in the household partially as a result of his relationship with Mlle Bourienne? However, later signs seemed to support the idea of something much greater than a change of heart after an emotional talk between father and son.
The Old Prince seems to fluctuate between episodes of merriness and a much deeper, darker state. He demonstrates an increase in energy by starting multiple new projects and is “extremely active and even animated”(687). This enhanced vitality in his behavior is surprising, once we find out that he “[sleeps] little… and change[s] his sleeping place every day” (687). This is where it starts to get weird. Over the course of many instances in a short period of time, the Old Prince displays strong signs of paranoia. After receiving the letters with news from war and sending Mikhail Ivanych to fetch them (after he already changed his mind about sending Mlle Bourienne to get them, mind you), he “look[s] around uneasily”(688) and then goes himself to get them. He seems to not trust others with handling this information, despite the closeness of everyone at the dinner table. Then, after retrieving the letters, he refuses to let anyone else read the letters during dinner. This abnormally controlling behavior seems to further suggest his paranoia.
While up until this point, the Old Prince’s odd behavior could be excused by some other explanation as to why the letters were so important to him, but later on the Prince is clearly delusional and cannot distinguish reality from fantasy. As they discuss the war at the dinner table, the Old Prince conjectures about the failure of the enemy; however, “Dessales looked astonishment at the prince, who spoke of the Niemen when the enemy was already at the Dnieper” (688-689). Dessale’s astonishment serves to illustrate for us that the Old Prince’s prediction is quite baseless, and is in fact quite illogical considering the present state of the enemy. Furthermore, beyond making outright ridiculous predictions about the war, the Old Prince imagines scenarios that never actually took place. In conversation with Dessales, the Old Prince says “‘Yes, he writes that the French were crushed– by what river was it?’,” and Dessales “lower[s] his eyes,” saying softly “‘the prince writes nothing about that’.” The Old Prince confused, and trying to cover up his mistake asks “‘He doesn’t? Well, I didn’t think it up myself’,” and then “everyone was silent for a long time” (689). The Old Prince is fabricating reality and does not even realize it. He believes things were said that were never actually said, and then is in denial that it could have been him making it up.
Most concerning of all, is that the Old Prince experiences hallucinations and night terrors. The Old Prince desires to sleep, yet “he [knows] he [will] not be able to fall asleep and that he worst thoughts came to him in bed” (690). He goes on to explain that “everywhere seemed bad to him” (690) and that he refuses to sleep in the same location on any given night. He settles on sleeping in a corner behind the piano, a very odd choice for someone in their right mind. However, the Old Prince is clearly not in his right mind. He has no reason to believe that any of these various sleeping locations are “bad,” yet he convinces himself of such. Again, Bolkonsky is quite controlling during the making of his bed, “mov[ing] it a few inches further from the corner, then a little closer again” (691). Then, as the Prince attempts falling asleep, “the whole bed suddenly began moving rhythmically back and forth under him, as if breathing heavily and jostling. This happened to him almost every night” (691). Bolkonsky is imaging movement that is not actually there, on a recurring basis.
These tactile hallucinations, in conjunction with his delusional thoughts, faux memories, and overall change of character lead me to believe Bolkonsky has Paranoid Schizophrenia. Paranoid Schizophrenia is characterized by hallucinations and delusions, much like what Bolkonsky seems to be experiencing. His symptoms also overlap with many other psychological disorders, such as Delusional Disorder as well as Bipolar Disorder and Alzheimer’s Disease (see table below for symptom comparison). However, while some of his symptoms are not directly explained by Schizophrenia and are connected to some of these other conditions, Schizophrenia had the strongest overlap for the primary symptoms. Symptoms such as Bolkonsky’s decreased sleep are likely a direct result of his hallucinations that come to him during the night which prevent his sleep. The other changes in behavior the Old Prince exhibits, such as distancing himself from Mlle Bourienne and acting more controlling, are likely linked to his paranoia and delusions with lead him to believe various people are conspiring against him or are untrustworthy. After establishing that it is quite probable that the Old Prince has Schizophrenia, I am left curious as to why Tolstoy chose to make him have this condition. What extra layer and deeper meaning does Bolkonsky’s Schizophrenia add to the larger plot and message of War and Peace? This is something I am interested in discussing more in the future, but for now, the question can serve as food for thought.
War and Peace is full of secondary characters. Some of these characters get a cameo once or twice and others receive far more features. In many books, movies, and even in real life I find myself gravitating towards the supporting actors and actresses more than the main characters. They are the ones with a quick wit, a key piece of information, or a different way of solving problems. They are crucial to the storyline and influence the way the primary characters function, but they are so often overlooked. I want to focus on just two of the recurring and more dramatic characters in War and Peace for my investigation.
We are introduced to Anatole Kuragin in the first couple chapters of the book as a “problem” to be solved. He appears in the Hero’s Journey as an obstacle rather than a supportive voice or sidekick, and he is used multiple times as such. We hear about him before we meet him, which means that our first impression of him is dictated by the other characters’ understandings of him. This means he isn’t really “given a chance” (not that he should get one) to prove himself otherwise before he inevitably turns out to be the exact person we were expecting. Anatole fulfills the role of the token “bad boy,” which means Tolstoy has bestowed him with the role of seducing women and complicating the other character’s relationships with one another. Initially, and in an attempt to stop his reckless behavior, Anatole is set up to marry Marya. Later, he acts as a catalyst for Natasha’s emotional breakdown when he puts her under his spell and tries to abduct her. In between these two episodes, Anatole becomes involved with another secondary character and sends a whole different set of relationships into a spiral.
Instead of marrying Marya, Anatole unsurprisingly finds himself involved with a different woman, Mademoiselle Bourienne. Mlle Bourienne and Anatole unite their power as secondary characters in what could be considered a main event. Mlle Bourienne is of course Marya’s lady-in-waiting/friend and instead of getting angry with her, Marya supports their interest in one another. Marya’s relationship changes with Mlle Bourienne, as she feels like she is seeing a more expressive side of her friend. The relationship does not last long however, and as with many things, it becomes another source of pain between Marya and her father, the Old Count. When Marya once again disappoints her father, he emotionally distances Mlle Bourienne from his daughter by becoming romantically involved with her. This causes Marya to feel as though her companion has betrayed her and become yet another enemy in her own home. Unlike Anatole, Mlle Bourienne does not necessarily mean to cause such drama among the main characters, but is instead brought into it. However, both Anatole and Mlle Bourienne seem to completely and willingly inhabit their roles as disruptors to the main characters’ lives.
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.
Throughout the book, Pierre and Natasha have always had a complicated relationship. However, it wasn’t interesting until Andrei and Natasha became engaged. Pierre has been with Andrei since Andrei first fell in love with Natasha. He has witnessed the rise and fall of this engagement, starting from Andrei’s enamoration with Natasha to their broken engagement. Although, during that time, Pierre never explicitly said he loved Natasha, he cared an awful lot for her. At the numerous public events he saw her at, he was always incredibly attentive to her mood and her manner. Even at Berg’s soirée, Pierre was quite interested in her, with a sense of jealousy. When he observed her conversations with Andrei, a “joyful and at the same time bitter feeling stirred him and made him forget the game” (2.3.21).
It seems that Pierre is happy for his dear friend Andrei. After seeing everything Andrei has gone through, Pierre wanted to be happy for his friend. After all, Andrei had been living an aimless life, jumping from one hobby to the next, never finding stability. Pierre recognized the effect Natasha had on Andrei, and he did not want to break that. Even though he loved her (if not love, then it was strong interest), he was willing to sacrifice his own wellbeing for Andrei.
For Pierre, the circumstances just weren’t right. It was the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong people. Although it was hard, Pierre helped Andrei propose. During the falling out of Natasha and Andrei’s engagement, Pierre was fully involved. He was always there, looking out for Natasha, exemplified by his uncharacteristic outrage towards Anatole. Understanding Anatole’s character and history, Pierre did not want Natasha to get ‘scammed,’ leading her down a path of heartbreak and sorrow. Even when he told Natasha the truth about Anatole, he almost couldn’t bring himself to do it. Sure, it was necessary, but Pierre also knew the pain Natasha would feel, especially in her already emotionally unstable state.
When Andrei returned after all the drama, Pierre had been actively trying to save Natasha’s name amidst the scandalous rumors of Moscow. Finally, he has his shot with Natasha. However, he still realizes it is not the right time. Natasha is far too fragile for Pierre to profess his love. Instead, he drops hints, stating how he would marry her if he could. He constantly visits her, trying to help her overcome this ‘sickness’. It even brings him joy, initially. When he sees the comet, he understands how much his life has changed. He no longer needed to fill his empty soul with parties and drinking. He now had Natasha. Or so he thought.
For a bit, Pierre continues to visit Natasha to spend time with her, checking in and comforting her. But eventually, he becomes warped back into reality: he’s married. With his terrible marriage to Helene and Natasha’s fragile state, Pierre could not ever have anything with Natasha. Thus, he went back to his old ways of drinking and partying. Although it took some time, he eventually recognizes that all of this needs to stop. While he is at the Rostovs’ one night, something officially clicks in his head. He can’t keep on visiting her like this. Being around her is damaging for him because he becomes infatuated in her presence to the point where he almost can’t function normally. The only way for him to completely move on (something he completely understands now) is for him to fully cut off her ties with him.
Now here is the ultimate question: was Pierre wrong in leaving her? I feel like Pierre had every right to make his own decision on their relationship. Sure, Natasha needed him, and Pierre leaving was definitely saddening for her. Yet, from Pierre’s perspective it was time. He was so incredibly in love with her. Natasha was always something he couldn’t have, so he needed to accept it and move on. If he kept being around her, his pain would continue, leaving him more and more devastated. Being around Natasha gave him a false sense of hope with her. Ultimately, based on the timeline of their relationship, I feel that Pierre was in the right.
After Natasha fails to run off with Anatole and breaks off her marriage with Andrei, she becomes both depressed and physically ill. Although various doctors attempt to cure her illness with various pills and powders, Tolstoy suggests that the doctors “could not know the illness Natasha was suffering from, as no illness that afflicts a living human being can be known: for each human being has his peculiarities, and always has his own peculiar, complex illness, unknown to medical science” (655). In 19th century Russia (and throughout all of Europe), medical science was still highly underdeveloped, with many key advances not yet having been made. For example, the stethoscope was invented in 1816, aspirin was first synthesized in 1853, and germ theory was pioneered by Louis Pasteur in the early 1860s. However, the real key to understanding Natasha’s illness, the field of neuroimmunology, is still in its development and would not have been available to Tolstoy.
Scientific experiments have shown that physical and psychological stressors are both involved in dysfunctional regulation of the immune system. During, or in response to, a psychologically traumatizing scenario, the brain elevates levels of ACTH (adrenocorticotropic hormone), which causes the adrenal gland to release cortisol, which down-regulates inflammatory immune cell activity. Long-term cortisol increases can cause immune cells to become more resistant to pro-inflammatory signals. Therefore, both the short-term and long-term effects of psychological stress inhibit the immune response, which may allow “latent viruses” normally controlled by the immune system to proliferate inside the body. Meanwhile, immune receptors for cytokines and neurotransmitters are often compromised during times of stress by the overabundance of cortisol and other hormones associated with the “fight or flight” response, which can cause immune cells to either become too active or not active enough. Finally, prolonged stress can also worsen autoimmune diseases by causing inflammatory immune cells to attack and destroy normal cells.
In War and Peace, Natasha recovers partly because of her religious convictions, which allow her to accept her mistakes and regain her sense of self. In this instance, Tolstoy implies that religion can help heal the body by healing the spirit: while Natasha prays for forgiveness and recovery, he claims that “it seemed to [Natasha] that God heard her prayer” (663). However, a study done on 1800 patients across 6 national hospitals in the early 2000s found that prayer and religious convictions made no difference in the recovery times for heart surgery patients. Therefore, based on modern immunology and neurobiology, Natasha was probably healed by her improving psychological state over time, which returned her immune system to normal and allowed her to become physically healthy again.
If Tolstoy had understood the connection between brain-controlled hormones and the body’s immune system, he may have had more insight into what really afflicted Natasha: defective immune responses brought on by extended and acute stress. The human body can be studied and understood just like other natural phenomena, and although he correctly guessed that there is an important connection between the brain and physical health through the placebo effect (in which fake treatments improve healing because they satisfy the “eternal human need for the hope of relief” (656)), he may have had to re-evaluate his spiritual perspective on healing in light of these advances in the field of biology. As a modern reader, I must wonder whether the characters in War and Peace, and Tolstoy himself, would be so inclined towards spirituality and mysticism if they understood the science that exists today.
Andrei, after coming out of the meeting with Pfuel and other military men, realizes that talking about strategic moves strictly according to the theory of war is a waste of their time, rather it’s the men on the ground making the real decisions: “And why do they all talk about military genius…? It is only because military men are clothed in splendor and power, and masses of scoundrels flatter power, endowing it with qualities of genius it does not have, that they are called geniuses” (644). Here we see an echo of Tolstoy’s own ideas on war, as the author states that “so called great [men’s]… every action, which to them seems willed by themselves, in the historical sense is not willed, but happens in connection with the whole course of history and has been destined from before all ages” (606). History or the tide of war is not going to change based on theory or conversations, but rather what actually happens, which is predestined, or, more likely, up to chance. Andrei, after realizing this wants to be part of the real fight that is happening, so he enlists to be in the infantry, where his contributions will make a tangible difference. I thought this decision was interesting because Andrei not only aligns himself with Tolstoy, but he also aligns himself with the lower class people who have been sacrificed to fight this war, while the rich sit untouched by the true costs of war. Tolstoy argues that a powerful person and a person of seemingly no importance, in fact, have the same importance in the grand scheme of history, and Andrei is now siding with those who he thinks are making real change. Additionally, Andrei, like Tolstoy, hopes that he should never “be a human being and come to love or pity someone, or start thinking about what is just and what isn’t” (644). Andrei clearly realizes the lack of humanity that being a good soldier takes, since one must view the opposing force as the enemy rather than as fellow men.
At the beginning of volume three, Tolstoy shifts from the dramatics of Natasha and Anatole back to the Napoleonic wars. In reintroducing the wars, he opens with an essay about his own personal views on war. In this essay, he outlines that war requires a lack of humanity, as “millions of men, renouncing their human feelings and their reason, had to go from west to east and kill their own kind, just as, several centuries earlier, hordes of men had gone from east to west, killing their own kind” (605). Additionally, he argues that generally the course of history is not decided by the men to whom events are attributed, but to the moving pieces that all together bring a moment to fruition. Indeed, it’s the men on the battlefield fighting that win or lose the battle, not the supposed military genius behind it. Throughout the course of volume three as a whole, Tolstoy’s two soldiers, Nikolai and Andrei, come to embody these ideas through their own revelations.
Nikolai, who we see make a difference fighting on the battlefield rather than in high falutin meetings, fights with an intuitive spirit that agrees with Tolstoy’s war philosophy. Nikolai also falls victim to what Tolstoy and Andrei discuss: viewing the enemy as a man. Indeed, while he enters the battle with a vigorous force that’s compared to hunting throughout the war sequence, the french dragoon officer’s “face, pale and mud-spattered, fair-haired, young, with a dimple on the chin and light blue eyes, was not at all for the battlefield, not an enemy’s face, but a most simple, homelike face…. Something unclear, confused, something he was unable to explain himself, had been revealed to him in the capture of this officer and the blow he had given him” (653-4). Here we see the conflicting emotions of humanity and duty to country, which I would assume is something that Tolstoy himself experienced when he was a soldier. It was interesting to see Tolstoy’s rationality around war infiltrate Nikolai’s war-oriented thinking.
The Russian strategy of avoiding the 615,000 man French army is not the only, or even first instance of a much smaller force defeating a bigger force by avoiding confrontation on home soil. Known as the “Fabian Strategy”, this tactic is named after the Roman General, Marcus Fabius Maximus (nicknamed “Cunctator” or “the Delayer”), who avoided battle with General Hannibal of Carthage until Hannibal’s forces were worn down by hunger, disease, and battles during the Second Punic War.
The Second Punic War (218 – 201 B.C.) was a war between the two great Mediterranean powers of the time: Carthage, the major naval power, located in modern-day Tunisia, and Rome, the major land power. The two powers had fought some twenty years earlier over the island of Sicily in the First Punic War, which the Romans won. The Second Punic War is the more famous of the two, involving Hannibal’s march from Spain over the Alps (yes, with elephants) into Italy. After a devastating defeat, the Romans put Fabius in charge of the Roman Republic as a dictator, and Fabius kept a constant strategy of avoiding a real engagement, choosing strategic ground to fence Hannibal into an area of evacuated and burned farms; when Fabius was temporarily relieved from duty, the Romans attacked Hannibal and lost in the Battle of Cannae. Fabius’ strategy was validated, and Fabius was placed back into command of the Republic’s army. Hannibal was effectively shunned in southern Italy for a decade, until the Romans won the war.
George Washington also employed the Fabian strategy during the American Revolution, hiding from the british army and avoiding an outright confrontation, but continuously harassing the British until the cost of the war exceeded the benefits for the British and conceded to the revolutionists’ demands.
Quite possibly more famous than Fabius’ own use of the Fabian Strategy is the use of the Fabian Strategy in Russia combined with the scorched earth policy. As the Russian forces were driven back by the sheer numbers of the French army (450,000 troops in the first wave of the invasion, with 165,000 in the second against 250,000 Russian troops spit into three armies), the Russian forces burned any towns or villages they left starting from Vilino.
The Fabian Strategy stretched Napoleon’s supply lines, much as they had in some of Napoleon’s earlier campaigns, but Napoleon’s determination to gain a decisive victory over the Russians drove him to pursue the Russian army all the way to Moscow, where the French Army could have wintered had the Muscovites not burned half of the city down, destroying precious food and lodging for the roughly 100,000 troops left.
In War and Peace, lust can inspire characters to act in ways that they soon regret. Uncontrollable and debasing, primal emotion and impulsive action always draw dire consequences and prolonged unhappiness to Tolstoy’s characters. Prince Vassily’s children are consistently described as seductive and conniving. Helene, helped by her father, sneakily arranges her marriage to Pierre after his sudden onset of lust for her, while Prince Vassily attempts to arrange a successful match for his promiscuous son. While Prince Vassily is clearly scheming for higher social status and using his children as tools, Anatole’s motivations for pursuing women are very different.
Anatole’s ability to instill an intense and overwhelming feeling of lust in Natasha is very unusual. Natasha has generally been very level headed, especially after her engagement to Prince Andrei. Sustaining a long engagement and enduring months away from her fiance, Natasha is still faithful and loving towards Andrei. She wishes for him to come back, and though she fears that she is wasting the most youthful of her days, her love for him remains both strong and calm. She has been level-headed and faithful for almost a year and yet a few days around Anatole and Helene leaves her unable to imagine life without her newly found love. While Natasha has had many child-like crushes, these desires have been either fleeting or flippant. When Boris returns from war and does not seem to intend to marry her anymore, she is sad but not drastically upset about the end to a four-year promise. However superficial the promise that they had, Boris and her proposed engagement had been a part of Natasha’s envisioned future for a quarter of her life and yet did not have a huge impact on her psyche. Anatole, however, has inspired feelings in her so superficial and yet so intense that she feels driven to suicide in his absence after only a few days of knowing him.
Anatole is charming and plotting like his sister, but unlike Helene, he does not use these so-called talents for the betterment of his family and their position. While Helene follows after her alienated husband Pierre to attempt to repair their relationship’s image, Anatole is off marrying a farm girl (likely due to some form of inappropriate premarital relationship) and trying to steal away a near-dowerless bride. Anatole inspires a frantic desire within Natasha, clearly enjoys his ability to enchant such a young and pretty girl, and wishes to possess her, and yet his seduction of her is deceptive and false. Anatole physically inspires wild lust in Natasha, and yet the letter that convinces her to be stolen away is written by Dolokov. Anatole is willing to illegally marry twice and face the wrath of Natasha’s family and fiance, but winning her is more of a game to him than a true desire to be with Natasha. From the way he organizes the carriage and the fur coat he will give her, to the artificially concocted love note, Anatole is clearly relishing in the deception of Natasha. Ignoring the consequences of treating an engaged noblewoman as a conquest, Anatole’s obsession with seduction and competition far outweighs his foresight.
“He’s so narrow, like a dining-room clock … You don’t understand? … Narrow, you know, gray, light gray” (452). “Bezukhov — he’s blue, dark blue with red, and he’s rectangular” (452).
Synesthesia is “the production of a sense impression relating to one sense or part of the body by stimulation of another sense or part of the body” (Google). The most common type of synesthesia is grapheme-color synesthesia where letter and numbers are correlated with colors.
Natasha’s form of synesthesia seems to be similar to grapheme-color synesthesia, but instead of letters and numbers, she correlates people with different colors. In psychology, different colors correlate to different emotions. So, when Natasha describes Boris as gray, she may mean he is neutral, practical, conservative, formal, and quiet. When Natasha describes Pierre as blue and red, she may mean he is free, trustworthy, and has passion.
The colors Natasha sees may stop her from truly seeing people as who they are, so she isn’t able to form a true connection with anybody. She isn’t able to differentiate lust from love. For example, she thinks she loves Andre, but when Anatole appears and visually seduces her, suddenly all her love for Andre is gone and she thinks she loves Anatole. By seeing people in colors, her emotions are confused and she isn’t able to find true love.
Big Book 2019 