"...[Natasha] listened to the words of the service, which she tried to follow and understand. When she understood them, her personal feeling, with its nuances, joined with her prayer; when she did not, the sweeter it was for her to think that the wish to understand everything was pride, that it was impossible to understand everything, that she only had to believe and give herself to God, who in those moments - she felt - was guiding her soul. She crossed herself, bowed, and, when she did not understand, only asked God, in horror at her own vileness, to forgive her for everything, everything, and to have mercy on her."
- Leo Tolstoy (III.1.xvii)
Day Count: 90
Page Count: 692
Much like my last post in this series, this post will include details about the overall plot of War and Peace. Many of you have not read this great book: if you wish to do so some day without major details regarding the plot revealed to you, you might want to skip this post; if you are living vicariously through my reading of War and Peace, or just don't mind spoilers, keep reading!
In my reading of Tolstoy - indeed, in my reading of literature as a whole, few characters have impacted and moved me quite as much as Natasha Rostova. The third of four children and youngest daughter of the noble Rostov family, Natasha has become something of my 'feminine ideal' - she is charming, lively, full of life, the quintessence of youthful innocence and vitality. While many literary women I know dream that Jane Austen's Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy (of Pride and Prejudice fame) were real so that he may sweep them off their feet, I have similar wishes about Natasha (that I might sweep her of of her feet, natch).
However, while she is first introduced as a plain child of thirteen, we are privileged to see her come of age throughout Tolstoy's saga, experiencing the various triumphs and pangs of youth which, regardless of where or when one grew up, seem completely natural and relatable under the watchful eye of Tolstoy. Perhaps the most defining moment for Natasha (at least, of the ones I have read so far) is the dissolution of her engagement to Prince Andrei Bolkonsky.
In many ways, Andrei is Tolstoy's 'heroic ideal' - he places duty before all else, believes fervently in that which he holds dear, and performs every task which he is given admirably and with gusto. While his inner turmoil and search for meaning remain one of the central conflicts in War and Peace, he is Tolstoy's 'man's man,' the hero that every character admires and desires to be. It is no surprise, then, when Andrei asks for Natasha's hand in marriage - after all, while he is the 'hero,' she is the quintessential 'female.' Their engagement enlivens Andrei from his seemingly constant disillusionment and he is more vibrant, joyous, and alive than we have seen him (no doubt a direct result of Natasha's influence).
It is during their engagement - but also during a prolonged absence which Andrei spends abroad - that Natasha meets Anatole Kuragin. From the start of the novel, Tolstoy predisposes his reader to dislike the Kuragin family. Patriarch Prince Vassily Kuragin is seen clamoring for a piece of Pierre's father's estate even before the Count has died, seeming to believe that he has some stake in it. His eldest son Ippolit Kuragin is a boorish simpleton who, for some reason or other, is quite popular in society. Vassily, in an attempt to get his hands on the Bezukhov fortune, practically whores his daughter Helene Kuragin to Pierre, who eventually marries him (despite her incessant infidelity - but more on the two of them in a later portion).
Finally... Anatole. While Tolstoy does not say much about Anatole prior to our meeting him - save that he is popular with the ladies and a bit of a reveler - we are predisposed to dislike him because of where he comes from (the Kuragin family). After all, Vassily seems to have no morality to speak of, which has obviously trickled down and effected his children. Anatole, however, takes the cake - a womanizing playboy who spends much of his time gambling and boozing. Tolstoy reveals that he impregnated a Polish girl, married her (mainly because he was forced to do so), and abandoned both her and the child to continue his lifestyle of frivolity. In other words, Anatole is the quintessential 'bad boy' - the one girls love knowing full well he will only break their heart in the end. This is the man who sets his sights on sweet, innocent Natasha, the paragon on femininity and youthful innocence.
(I suppose what attracts Natasha to Anatole - other than his good looks - is his soul-capturing charisma. Tolstoy states that "looking into his eyes, [Natasha] felt with fear that that between him and her that barrier of modesty which she had always felt between herself and other men was not there at all" [II.5.x]. Anatole is the first man to look at her not as a girl or even a female, but as an object of desire. This signifies, I suppose, the moment when Natasha begins to lose her childlike innocence and wonder.)
I must admit that I cried when Natasha began ignoring the good advice of her friends and family who told her to ignore Anatole, when she made plans to abscond in the night and elope with this ruffian. Her failure to do so has more to do with Pierre and his putting his foot down than with anything else. In the aftermath, Natasha becomes a shell of her former self, broken, ailing, and weeping in her bed, unwilling and unable to receive anyone; Andrei returns to his disillusionment, forsaking both Natasha and everything she represented to him and returning to the military; Pierre, trapped in a loveless marriage, begins to realize his own love for the broken Natasha and recognizes the change that love makes within him.
"Uh, nice story, Stephen, but isn't this post supposed to be about religion?" I hear you asking. To which I reply, "Yes, I was just coming to that. Hold your horses."
Natasha, recovering from that 'bad boy phase' that every female seems destined to go through, seems lost within her own misery, so ill that her family are unable to head back to their home in Otradnoe from Moscow. As she begins to recover, the reader feels that she may never return to the vibrant young woman she once was:
"Natasha was more calm, but not more cheerful. She not only avoided all external conditions of joyfulness - balls, promenades, concerts, the theater - but she never once laughed so that tears were not heard behind her laughter. She could not sing. As soon as she began to laugh or tried to sing when she was by herself, tears choked her: tears of remorse, tears of remembrance of that irretrievable time of purity, tears of vexation that just so, for nothing, she had ruined her young life, which might have been so happy. Laughter and singing especially seemed to her a blasphemy against her grief." (III.1.xvii)
Then, a neighbor invites Natasha to go with her to take communion at the end of St. Peter's Fast and, upon going, the young girl is born anew. The quote that begins this post is taken from her experience at this service. Here, we see Tolstoy emphasizing through Natasha the power of God to heal the hurt and bitterness in a human heart. Natasha, once wracked by grief and misery at innocence lost, becomes rejuvenated once again: "But the happy day came, and when Natasha, on that Sunday so memorable for her, in a white muslin dress, came home after communion, for the first time in many months she felt calm and not burdened by the life that lay ahead of her" (III.1.xvii). We eventually see her regain her exuberance and love for life that seemed to have faded. Her faith brings her out of her grief and into new life!
I had also planned to highlight other members of the Rostov family here - Nikolai and Count Ilya especially - but I don't really have the time or the energy to do so at present moment. Instead, I'll sign off here and save the rest of the Rostovs for another post. Cheers!
Read the rest of this series:
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