Ambition, Dignity and the Pursuit of Status: Parenthood in Tolstoy's 'War and Peace'

Where does one begin in writing about War and Peace? With most editions being well in excess of 1000 pages and a cast of over 500 characters, it is no mean task. Indeed, one of the things that makes Tolstoy unique is the way in which his novels contain so many strands of story, all intertwined in different ways. The only way it would be possible to offer comment would be to choose just one theme and set of characters and relationships. This is what I have done, deciding to look at the relationships between four sets of parents and children; The Bolkonskis, the Rostovs, the Kuragins and the Drubetskoys. Another angle which would have been interesting would have been an examination of how Tolstoy treats the institution and values of marriage, but given his own life and also the mammoth amount of material on the subject available from Anna Karenina, I have decided that the best theme to explore is the values and ambitions of parents, with regards to their children. 

An important thing which I noticed in my reading of this novel, something which I must say fits in very well with all that I know of Tolstoy as a person, is that the narration of War and Peace is all presented very factually; we have a third person narrator who very much sticks to the conventions of the technique. There is no free indirect speech here, everything we learn of the characters (beyond their own speech) we are told, there is very little room for interpretation beyond what we are given. There are not real deviations of many different points of view. Not that this is necessarily a problem, more just something which influences the way in which we analyse the themes within the text.

 The edition that I have read is the Louise and Aylmer Maude translation in the Wordsworth Classics edition, 2001. The way in which some names of characters are translated is not personally to my taste but to avoid confusion I have resisted the temptation to change them. At the end of this post, along with the references, I have included notes on the characters, in case any confusion arises.

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Perhaps the most striking of all the parental figures in War and Peace is Princess Anna Drubetskaya, an aristocratic woman fallen on hard times and lacking in societal influence. Her son is Borís, and the Princess’ soul aim appears to be doing whatever it takes, losing whatever dignity and respect necessary, in order to secure him a career. Indeed, our first introduction to the character of Anna Drubetskaya is in the middle of her efforts to secure a position for her son by essentially begging Prince Vasíly Kuragin to use his influence to help her.

‘… She gave him an ingratiating and appealing smile and took his hand that he might not go away…. “Listen to me, prince,” said she, “I have never yet asked you for anything and I never will again, nor have I ever reminded you of my father’s friendship for you; but now I entreat you for God’s sake to do this for my son – and I shall always regard you as a benefactor” she added hurriedly.’¹ 

It would appear as though Anna Drubetskaya has gone to whatever depths to convince the prince to assist her, giving up her dignity and even attempting to manipulate the prince. Her dignity is certainly is question when ‘Apparently she had forgotten her age and by force of habit employed all the old feminine arts. But as soon as the prince had gone her face resumed its former cold artificial expression. She returned to the group where the vicomte was still talking, and again pretended to listen, while waiting till it would be time to leave. Her task was accomplished.’²

 

Anna Drubetskaya embodies the expectations of society in Russia of this era -  her raison d’être is the success of her offspring, she has not needs or desires of her own and is willing to go to great lengths of self-sacrifice in order to help him. However, there is a stranger, darker side to her behaviour, in that she really does not care who she tramples to achieve her goals; in this sense, at least, she seems manipulative, cold and calculated. Her treatment of Pierre when his father is dying is essentially quite cruel. His father has literally just passed away when Anna Drubetskaya says to him, ‘“You know, uncle promised me only the day before yesterday not to forget Borís. But he has no time [to alter his will]. I hope, my dear friend, you will carry out your father’s wish?”’³ It is true that she tells Countess Rostova “Let people think what they will of me, it’s really all the same to me when my son’s fate is at stake,”⁴ but her steely determination towards this aim makes her an unpleasant person and her son’s desires (if indeed he has any) are not in any way explored. 

Prince Nicholas Bolkonski treats his daughter, Princess Maria, appallingly. He is exceptionally controlling of her, he ‘himself undertook his daughter’s education… and arranged her life so that her whole time was occupied.’⁵ In addition to this, he bullies and deliberately humiliates her, while all the while being privately extremely dependent upon her. Princess Maria, for her part, is very pious and self-sacrificing, but is also completely terrified of her father. ‘The princess looked in a scared way at her father’s eyes glittering close to her; the red patches on her face came and went, and it was plain that she understood nothing and was so frightened that her fear would prevent her understanding any of her father’s further explanations…’⁶Prince Nicholas deliberately humiliates his daughter in front of her prospective suitor, purely through fear of abandonment, evident in the fact that,

‘the question was whether he could ever bring himself to part from his daughter and give her to a husband. The prince never directly asked himself that question, knowing beforehand that he would have to answer it justly, and justice clashed not only with his feelings but with the very possibility of life. Life without Princess Maria, little as he seemed to value her, was unthinkable to him. “And why should she marry,” he thought. “To be unhappy for certain. There’s Lise, married to Andrew – a better husband one would think could hardly be found nowadays – but is she contented with her lot? And who would marry Marie for love? Plain and awkward!”’⁷

This strange mixture of resentment and dependence, desire to protect his daughter from pain whilst at the same time apparently valuing her so little, is a complex and strange issue, especially when juxtaposed with Prince Nicholas’ treatment of his son, Andrew, whom he treats almost as an equal and, at least in terms of Andrew’s wife, sides with blindly. Prince Andrew also seems to have a deep understanding of his father and his ways, evident in this speech he makes to Pierre, ‘My father is one of the most remarkable men of his time. But he is growing old, and though not exactly cruel, he has too energetic a character. He is so accustomed to unlimited power that he is terrible, and now he has the authority of a commander-in-chief of the recruiting, granted by the Emperor… So I am serving because I alone have any influence with my father, and now and then can save him from actions which would torment him afterwards.’¹⁶ Both Andrew and Maria have a profound level of love and respect for their father, who does seem to genuinely love and care for them both, in spite of his behaviour at times. Perhaps it should also be noted that the role of fathers at the time this novel was published was obviously very different to the way it is now.

Prince Nicholas is an incredibly selfish parent – the needs of his children always fall secondary to his own. On the subject of his devoted son, Prince Andrew, wishing to marry Natasha, ‘[Nicholas] could not comprehend how anyone could wish to alter his life or introduce anything new into it, when his own life was already ending. “If only they would let me end my days as I want to,” thought the old man, “then they might do as they please.”²² This almost suggests that the Prince does not really care about the good of his children; overall, he is more concerned with his own peace and quiet.  On the subject of Prince Andrew’s desire to marry Natasha Rostova, Prince Nicholas has an interesting array of arguments against it. 

‘In the first place the marriage was not a brilliant one as regards birth, wealth or rank. Secondly, Prince Andrew was not as young as he had been and his health was poor (the old man laid special stress on this), while she was very young. Thirdly, he had a son whom it would be a pity to entrust to a chit of a girl. “Fourthly and finally… I beg you to put it off for a year… then if your love or passion or obstinacy – as you please – is still as great, marry!”’²³ 

The reasons for opposition the Prince deems most important are interesting, in that they all centre entirely on financial or social gain.  

Based upon the family of Tolstoy’s wife Sofia (née Behr)⁸, the Rostovs are a classic example of the archetypal affectionate family. The love of all three children and both parents for the eldest son, Nicholas, is quite startling and ‘on his return to Moscow from the army, Nicholas Rostov was welcomed by his home circle as the best of sons, a hero and their darling Nikolenka.’⁹ The family has limited money and yet it spends a lot on Nicholas (more than it should, really). Examples of the loving, close nature of the Rostov parents and their children are repeated throughout the novel, as when Nicholas is described as being ‘enfolded in the poetic atmosphere of love which pervaded the Rostov household.’¹⁰ Countess Rostova shows a very limited interest in issues of marriage, apart from having some dread of a marriage between her son and his cousin Sonya ‘which might hinder Nicholas from making a brilliant match.’¹¹ Beyond this, the Countess appears to approach her affairs with a degree of naivety, as does her husband. The Countess is even under the impression that “’till now I have always been my children’s’ friend and had their full confidence.”¹² which shows that she is ‘repeating the mistake of many parents who imagine that their children have no secrets from them.’¹³ Both she and her husband are terrible with money and judging by Nicholas, they have not managed to impart any wisdom in this regard to their children.

The Countess relies very heavily on her son later on in the novel, when it comes to issues of family finance. For example, ‘[Nicholas] found in letters from home more frequent complaints from his mother that their affairs were falling into greater and greater disorder, and that it was time for him to come back to gladden and comfort his old parents’.²⁴ The Countess shows a far less pleasant side to her personality when it comes to her manipulation of the feelings of her son, and ‘in the spring of that year, he received a letter from his mother, written without his father’s knowledge, and that letter persuaded him to return. She wrote that if he did not come and take matters in hand, their whole property would be sold by auction and they would all have to go begging.’²⁵ To some extent, one could argue that this is the cost of having been so doted upon in his youth, but the expectations placed upon Nicholas are extreme, and show that even the Countess is not immune to the cold social manoeuvring of the time. ‘She told him that her only hope of getting their affairs disentangled, now lay in his marrying Julie Karagina’.²⁶ After the death of the Count, responsibilities fall even harder onto the shoulders of poor Nicholas, although in keeping with the close and loving nature of the family, he accepts them readily. However, his situation is a far from easy one. ‘The debts of [Count Rostov] amounted to double the value of the property… Friends and relatives advised Nicholas to decline the inheritance. But he regarded such a refusal as a slur on his father’s memory, which he held sacred, and therefore would not hear of refusing, and accepted the inheritance together with the obligation to pay the debts.’²⁷ Nicholas’ feelings for his parents even after the position in which he has been placed demonstrates what many people believe make up the fundamental of essence of an ideal family; unconditional love. The Countess certainly does not help to improve matters for Nicholas, as 

‘[she] could not conceive of a life without the luxurious conditions she had been used to from childhood and, unable to realize how hard it was for her son, kept demanding now a carriage (which they did not keep) to send for a friend, now some expensive article of food for herself, or wine for her son, or money to buy a present as a surprise for Natasha, or Sonya, or for Nicholas himself’.²⁸

The younger Rostov daughter, Natasha, is very outgoing and flirtatious (perhaps what would now be described as ‘boy-mad’). Her ‘honour’ is not very well protected, it would seem and her behaviour is never curtailed by her parents, even when it is inappropriate for her age. Her mother is aware that she is too young to marry and so her neglect presumably comes from a lack of noticing her daughter’s behaviour. Indeed, the Countess is outraged when Nicholas’ friend Denísov proposes to Natasha and is ‘indignant that they should have dared to treat this little Natasha as grown up.’¹⁴ As much as the Rostovs do not do their offspring any favours when it comes to financial stability, when Natasha is sixteen and discussing with her mother a possible union with Borís, her mother’s reasons why the marriage would not be a good idea are ‘because he is young, because he is poor, because he is a relation… and because you yourself do not love him.’²¹ That Countess Rostova considers the latter point  a reason to be acknowledged among the others is surprising, not least when looked at in relation to the other parents discussed here. Her concern for the long-term happiness for her daughter, while practical in terms of the financial implications, is also emotional and this is one way in which the Rostov parents are well-rounded.

Ultimately, Natasha’s fate proves to be a good one, but the journey to it is far from easy and she experiences great suffering along the way. The failure of her parents to curtail her behaviour and teach her how to avoid becoming entangled in scandal, is certainly a large part of this. However, the love that pervades the Rostov household is definitely unmatched by any other household presented in the novel.

Where to begin with the Kuragin family? With a father who claims to have no natural affinity for speaking to his own children, who describes his sons as fools, and yet has a strangely determined interest in their marrying well, it is no surprise that they are so dysfunctional. Prince Vasíly Kuragin supports his daughter, Hélène, in seducing as many men as possible if it will lead to her success within society. Hélène, like her brother Anatole, is sexually free (there are even rumours that the two have had a sexual relationship) and she has several affairs. Prince Kuragin attempts to marry his son Anatole off to Princess Maria Bolkonskya, reminding him that “for you, everything depends on this.”¹⁵ His concerns regarding his children amount simply to ensuring that they make financially and socially acceptable matches; their happiness, mental health or reputations seem to matter very little to him.

Bizarrely, Prince Vasíly’s wife is hardly ever mentioned in the novel; indeed, for a very large part of the novel I assumed her to be dead. The few contributions she makes are pointless at best, and unpleasant and worst. For example, upon being congratulated on her daughter’s upcoming marriage to Pierre, Hélène’s mother ‘did not reply, she was too tormented by jealousy of her daughter’s happiness.’¹⁷Now this is hardly healthy. It would appear that Prince Vasíly wife, who as far as I could make out remains unnamed, is as terrible as her husband when it comes to conspiring and manipulating for the benefit of their children, while at the same time entirely neglecting to bring their children up to be well-balanced and possessing of good morals. When Pierre receives a letter from her, he sees that ‘there was a conspiracy against him and that they wanted to reunite him with his wife…’¹⁸

 

The strange involvement of the parents in their children’s’ affairs is very different to the involvement of Anna Drubetskaya in those of her son, in that the latter is motivated by a profound and all-encompassing love and a desire to see her son succeed as best he possibly can. There seems to be something a little more sinister when it comes to the behaviour of the Kuragin parents. Prince Vasíly himself is unpleasantly involved in the relations between Pierre and Hélène. After they separate, Kuragin tells Pierre that ‘Hélène is as innocent before you as Christ was before the Jews¹⁹ and states ‘…I know all about it…it is simply a misunderstanding… [if you do not reconcile] let me tell you it’s quite likely you’ll have to suffer for it.’²⁰

It would appear that all issues regarding parenthood in War and Peace focus around the pursuit of status, be that through the attainment of further wealth, through good marriage, or through good educations or careers. Almost all of the parents are lacking in some way; the Rostovs fail massively when it comes to providing financial stability, Kuragin has produced emotionally unstable offspring and Bolkonski has a daughter who not only fears him, but is also fairly unable to cope with life. It could be said that the Princess Drubetskaya is a healthy example of good parenting, but even she has put too much into her son, who is himself embarrassed at times by her behaviour.  The pursuit of status is symptomatic of this particular culture during this era, when love meant very little next to ‘a good match’ and it is not necessarily a criticism when parents attempted to attain this for their offspring. More generally, Tolstoy succeeds in this novel in creating a full cast of characters, situations, relationships and circumstances, vast in scope and yet minute in detail. I did not find it as enjoyable as Anna Karenina, hitting a wall about halfway through which required I take a bit of a break from reading. It is, however, unquestionably a work of genius and an important piece of literature. I would recommend this novel to anybody, without question, although it would be advisable to take it slowly and just enjoy it. It is certainly not a novel to be rushed.

My next blog post will be on the subject of Thomas Hardy’s The Return of the Native, which I will be reading for the Beaconsfield Book Club in North London. I know it may seem strange to be going back to Hardy so soon, but I will do my best to keep the next post as far in subject from the post on Jude the Obscure. Check back in two weeks to have a read. As always, feel free to leave a comment, or contact me on greeninliterature@gmail.com. You can also follow this blog on twitter (@00KVortex).

Thanks,

-       K