Leo Tolstoy was always fascinated by the subject of death and the related subject of the meaning of life. In his later years he became devoutly religious, developing his own interpretation of Christianity, which he presented in his famous little book the Gospel in Brief. It can be read online here .
But even years earlier, when he was writing his masterpiece War and Peace, he touched on this subject, and did so with great insight and sensitivity. (Quotations from War and Peace are taken from Ann Dunnigan's translation, available in a Signet Classics edition; ellipses are in the original.)
Toward the close of Book One, Prince Andrei Bolkonsky is wounded at the Battle of Austerlitz. He is charging forward, observing a hand-to-hand confrontation between one of his artillerymen and a French soldier, when he receives a head wound.
He suddenly felt as though one of the soldiers near him had bludgeoned him on the head with all his might. The worst of it was not the pain, but that it distracted him, preventing him from seeing what he had been looking at.
"What is it? Am I falling? My legs are giving way," he thought, and fell on his back.
He opened his eyes, hoping to see how the struggle between the gunner and the Frenchman ended; he wanted to know whether the red-haired artilleryman had been killed or not, and whether the cannons had been captured or saved. But he saw nothing. Above him there was nothing but the sky, the lofty heavens, not clear, yet immeasurably lofty, with gray clouds slowly drifting across them. "How quiet, solemn, and serene, not at all as it was when I was running," thought Prince Andrei, "not like our running, shouting, fighting; not like the gunner and the Frenchman with their distraught, infuriated faces, struggling for the rod; how differently do those clouds float over the lofty, infinite heavens. How is it I did not see this sky before? How happy I am to have discovered it at last! Yes! All is vanity, all is delusion, except those infinite heavens. There is nothing but that. And even that does not exist; there is nothing but stillness, peace. Thank God ..."
He lies gravely wounded on the battlefield. He is still there when Napoleon himself, surveying the scene of his victory, comes upon his body and mistakenly assumes he is dead.
"There is a fine death!" said Napoleon, gazing at Bolkonsky.
Prince Andrei realized that this was said of him, and that it was Napoleon who said it. He heard the speaker of these words addressed as sire. But he heard the words as he might have heard the buzzing of a fly. Not only did they not interest him, but he took no notice of them, instantly forgot them. His head was burning; he felt that he was losing blood, and saw above him the remote, lofty, eternal heavens. He knew that it was Napoleon -- his hero -- but at that moment Napoleon seemed to him such a small, insignificant creature compared with what was taking place between his soul and that lofty, infinite sky with the clouds sailing over it. At that moment it meant absolutely nothing to him who might be standing over him or what might be said of him; he was only glad there were people there, only wished they would help him and bring him back to life, which seemed to him so beautiful now that he understood it differently.
When Napoleon realizes Andrei is alive, he summons medical help. Sometime later, Napoleon visits the captured Russian officers, Andrei among them.
"And you, young man?" he said. "Well, how are you feeling, mon brave?"
Although five minutes before Prince Andrei had been able to say a few words to the soldiers who were carrying him, now with his eyes fixed on Napoleon he was silent ... So trivial at that moment seemed to him all the interests that engrossed Napoleon, so petty did his hero himself, with his paltry vanity and joy in victory, appear, compared with that lofty, equitable, benevolent sky which he had seen and understood, that he could not answer him.
Indeed, everything seemed to him so futile and insignificant in comparison with that solemn and sublime train of thought which weakness, loss of blood, suffering, and the nearness of death had induced in him. Looking into Napoleon's eyes, Prince Andrei thought of the insignificance of greatness, the unimportance of life, which no one could understand, and of the still greater unimportance of death, the meaning of which no living person could understand and explain.
Afterward, Andrei contemplates the gold icon given to him as a necklace and good luck charm by his sister.
"It would be good," thought Prince Andrei, glancing at the little image that his sister had hung around his neck with such reverence and emotion, "it would be good if everything were as clear and simple as it seems to Princess Marya. How good it would be to know where to seek help in this life, and what to expect after it, beyond the grave! How happy and at peace I should be if I could now say: 'Lord have mercy on me!' ... But to whom should I say this? To some power -- indefinable and incomprehensible, to which I not only cannot appeal, but which I cannot express in words -- the Great All or Nothing," he said to himself, "or to that God who has been sewn into this amulet by Marya? There is nothing certain, nothing except the nothingness of everything that is comprehensible to me, and the greatness of something incomprehensible but all-important!"
The stretchers moved on. At every jolt he again felt intolerable pain; his fever increased and he became delirious. Visions of his father, wife, sister, and future son, and the tenderness he had felt for them the night before the battle, the figure of the insignificant little Napoleon, and above all this, those lofty heavens -- formed the principal elements of his delirious visions.
The quiet home life and tranquil happiness of Bald Hills rose before him. He was enjoying this happiness when suddenly there appeared that little Napoleon with his narrow, heartless look of happiness at the misery of others ... and again the doubts and torments ... and only the heavens promised peace.
Note to self: Read War and Peace
Posted by: Cyrus | February 06, 2009 at 03:14 PM
Cyrus, I would say when you do, read it to enjoy it, not to accomplish it, if you understand my meaning. It's a great story.
Posted by: The Major | February 06, 2009 at 08:09 PM
“Prince Andrei thought of the insignificance of greatness, the unimportance of life, which no one could understand, and of the still greater unimportance of death, the meaning of which no living person could understand and explain.”
Speaking of heroes I have been watching the series called Hitler’s bodyguard on TV. Germans lined the streets just to get a look at their hero parade by as he conquered country after country with little resistance. They have no idea as they adore their hero that they are going to experience within a few short years bombs reigning down upon them and most of their cities in ruins.
They interviewed one German woman and she stated that when the Russians were able to take the war inside Germany the Russians soldiers hunted them down like rabbits. I wondered to myself if this woman was one of those women or men that lined the streets to get a look at and adore their hero. A man called Hitler.
My research indicates that greatness on earth seldom translates into greatness in these other realms of existence. It appears that many of earth’s values are in direct contrast to spiritual values. Maybe my point is we might want to be careful whom we make our heroes.
Now from my point of view it is not the unimportance of life, as I believe life experiences are very important; it is the attachment to life that is unimportant. Without those important experiences in life how could we possibly know the unimportance of life? Was that a paradox?
“Temporal life is food for the true life.” (THE GOSPEL IN BRIEF)
If temporal life is food for real life than can we say life is unimportant?
Posted by: william | February 07, 2009 at 02:01 AM
Excellent selection, MP. Many years since reading the book, but your excerpt tempts me to wade back in to that Volga of a novel, that I could again enjoy those poetic moments such as the above. As a twenty-something in the initial encounter, I was more happy with completing that literary marathon than with the subtleties and nuances Tolstoy displayed. Sadly, my stack of yet-to-be-read books is already in danger of toppling, forcing me to move forward. Pity. I wonder how the years would change my responses to the book. I'm forced once again to confront my personal definition of Time: "that which I have too little of".
Posted by: Kevin | February 07, 2009 at 10:26 AM
I long ago concluded that I didn't want to accomplish War and Peace. This excerpt leads me to believe I'd be wise to reconsider.
Thanks for this, MP.
Posted by: Michael H | February 07, 2009 at 11:33 AM
For those who are considering reading War and Peace, I'd recommend the Ann Dunnigan translation (quoted above) over the more familiar Constance Barnett translation. Dunnigan's version is more contemporary and, I think, easier to read.
I'm no War and Peace expert, though. I'm reading the book for the first time, and am only about a quarter of the way through. (It's 1500 pages long.) I started with the Barnett translation but switched over to Dunnigan and have not regretted it.
Posted by: Michael Prescott | February 07, 2009 at 02:17 PM
I've seen the Henry Fonda movie, which most likely doesn't come close to being honest to the book. I'll put it down on my list of things to read once I retire. Like The Three Musketeers, Moby Dick and now this one.
Posted by: pmprescott | February 07, 2009 at 09:21 PM
Like The Three Musketeers, Moby Dick and now this one.
So far I'm liking War and Peace a lot better than Moby-Dick.
Posted by: Michael Prescott | February 08, 2009 at 01:49 AM