University of Southern California Dissertations and Theses

The Literary Kinship Of Leo N. Tolstoy And Romain Rolland: A Comparativestudy Of The Epic Dimensions Of 'War And Peace' And 'Jean-Christophe'

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The Literary Kinship Of Leo N. Tolstoy And Romain Rolland: A Comparativestudy Of The Epic Dimensions Of 'War And Peace' And 'Jean-Christophe'

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Content T h is d is s e r t a t io n h a s b e e n 64— 9628 m ic r o film e d e x a c t ly a s r e c e iv e d TU M A S, E le n a V a liu te , 1 9 2 0 - TH E L IT E R A R Y K IN SH IP O F LEO N . T O L ST O Y A N D ROM A IN R O L L A N D : A C O M P A R A T IV E ST U D Y O F T H E E P IC DIM EN SIO N S O F W A R A N D P E A C E A N D JE A N — C H R IS TO P H E . U n iv e r s ity o f S o u th ern C a lifo r n ia , P h .D ., 1964 L an gu age and L ite r a tu r e , m o d e r n U niversity M icrofilms, Inc., A nn A rbor, M ichigan COPYRIGHT BY ELENA VALIUTE TUMAS 1964 THE LITERARY KINSHIP OP LEO N. TOLSTOY AND ROMAIN ROLLAND* A COMPARATIVE STUDY OP THE EPIC DIMENSIONS OP WAR AND PEACE AND JEAN-CHRISTOPHE by t ELENA VALIUTE TUMAS A Dissertation Presented to the PACULTY OP THE GRADUATE SCHOOL UNIVERSITY OP SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA In Partial Pulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree DOCTOR OP PHILOSOPHY (Comparative Literature) June 196b U N IV ER SITY O F S O U T H E R N C A U F O R N IA THE GRADUATE SC H O O L U N IV ER SITY PARK L O S A N G E LE S, C A L IFO R N IA 9 0 0 0 7 This dissertation, written by under the direction of AttX*. Dissertation Com mittee, and approved by all its members, has been presented to and accepted by the Graduate School, in partial fulfillment of requirements for the degree of = June 1961* ......... .SX£HA..XmU3 DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY DISSERTATION COMMITTEE ............. Chairman CONTENTS Chapter Page I. INTRODUCTION .................................. 1 Romain Holland's Acknowledgement of the Influence of Leo N. Tolstoy............. 2 Preceding Studies of Similar Nature • • • • 6 II. THE EPIC ELEMENTS IN THE NOVEL..................11 The Origin and the Nature of the Epic . . . 11 The Significance of Homer and Vergil Definition of the Epic Epic Themes and Materials Epic Scope Self-contained World Methods of Enlarging the Scope Devices to Control the Epic Scope The Epic Structure Atmosphere Specific Epic Devices The Epic Hero Style, Diction, and Tone The Novel: Its Origins and Its Attributes . 37 Interest in Common People The Element of Love and Romance Freedom for the Novelist Emphasis upon Characterization Themes, Plot, and Formal Aspects The Epic Novel.......... *+9 III. L. N. TOLSTOT'S WAR AND PEACE AS AN EPIC NOVEL 53 Tolstoy's Affinities with Homer .......... 53 Theme of War and Peace....................55 ii \ Chapter Page i Life In All Its Manifestations ' Meaning of Life Shown through the I Characters Russian National Intuitive Knowledge about Life "God Is Love"— "Life Is Sod" Destructive Force of Life Life as an Eternal Rhythm Scope ............. 65 Use of Religious Mythologies Creation of the Unifying Myth Christian Religion— Intrinsic Part of the Character Pagan Spirit Expressed by Omens, Superstitions, Prophesies The Role of History in the Narrative Choice of Historical Materials The Author's Historical Consciousness Tolstoy's Theory of History and Its Presentation The Author's View of Heroism Descriptions of War and Attitude i towards War ! Background Spatial Aspect of the Background Natural Scenery Vividness of Description. Fusion of Sensual Perception Epic Similes and Their Different Usage Rural and Urban Life• Rousseauistic Influence Novelistic Tendencies of the Author's Techniques Social Setting Contemporary Life List of Arrivals, Departures, Decorous Presentation of Gifts, et cetera iii Chapter Page Feast8 and Entertainments Battle Scenes All-incluslveneea and Precision in the Portrayal of the Social Setting Atmosphere.................................... 122 Calm and Serenity Variations Elements Contributing to Its Creation Structure.................................... 13*+ Emphasi8 upon the Story The Method of the Narrative Tolstoy*s Concept of Art Plot and Its Construction Multiplicity Unifying Factors The Peculiarity of the Ending Justification for the Second Epilogue Characterization..............................1*+1 Characters in a Stable World Social Status Types and Individuals Analysis of Some Characters: Lisa, Natasha, Sonya, Helene, Pierre, Andrew, Karataev, Nicholas Specific Characteristics of Various Families Historical Characters Question of the Chief Character Techniques of Character-Drawing Contrast "Ostranneniye ” Mannerisms Self-analysis Epic Epithet Style and Diction..............................167 Rhythm Compound Words iv Chapter Page j Onomatopoeia j Realistic Aspects of the Language ! Tone...........................................172 j Objectivity and Detachment Subjective Tone and Prejudice Conclusion.................*................... 17*+ IV. THE TYPICALLY EPIC AND THE SPECIFICALLY j NOVEL1STIC ELEMENTS OF JEAN-CHRISTOPHE .... 179! ... i The "Journey" Motif and the Symbolism of the Water................................ 179 Related Themes and the Author's Vision of Life.........................................186 An Artist as an Epic H e r o ................... 191! Scope...........................................19*+ Attempt at the Completeness of Impression Use of History and National Life The Author's View of Various Nations The Symbolism of the Mountain The Social Question War and Heroism The Supernatural The Enlargement of Scope through the Discussion of Art and Related Problems The Social Setting of Jean-Christophe Presentation of Specific Agents and Phenomena The Realism of the Social Setting Natural Background Spinozian and Bergsonian Affinities Dynamic Quality of Nature Animation of the Environment Atmosphere.................................... 23 2j Structure.......................................235 i I Chronological Chain of Incidents Influence of Musical Composition The Narrative Method of Editorial Omniscience v Chapter Page | Characterization...............................2h0 The Genesis of the Main Character and of Some Minor Characters The Epic Characteristics of Jean-Christoptoe Affirmation and Joy of Life Courage Naivete, Naturalness, Purity, Honesty, Enthusiasm Action and Purpose in Life The Role of Divine Providence in the Main Character’s Life The Novelistic Treatment of the Charac ters* Development Olivier Jeannin, Jean-Christophs *s Friend and Counterpart Characters Representing Their Own Countries Characters Representing the Humble People The Role of the Family in a Single Individual’s Life Style ....................................... 260 j Rhythm Symbolism Literary Allusions Musical Phrases Diction..........................................26h Metaphor and Simile Emotional Quality of the Language and the Figures of Speech Specific Epic Devices...........................267 Catalogues Repetitions Typical Novelistic Devices ................. 269 j Emphasis upon Psychology Jean-Christophe as an Epic Novel........... 270 vi Chapter Page V. CONCLUSION......................................273 Tolstoy's Influence upon Romain Rolland from the Aesthetic Point of View • • • • • 273 The Literary Kinship of Leo Tolstoy and Romain Rolland ................. ••••• 278 BIBLIOGRAPHY............................................ 28l CHAPTER I INTRODUCTION Every new great creative achievement, he it in the field of literature or the other arte, is significantly connected with the preceding artistic tradition. Thus the study of influences becomes rewarding and illuminating, because seeing and analyzing the relationship between authors not only establishes the proof of the continuity and progress of the cultural-artistic development through the ages, but also gives insight into the creative act and helps to realize the depth, the meaning, and artistry of the resultant work. Generally the artist's influence upon his fellow artists, his contemporaries, or future generations is exerted through his work; yet in some specific Instances it grows additionally through a personal relationship. Literary history proves that there have been many cases of affectionate friendship between masters of literature and this friendship has had beneficial and important conse quences to their growth and development as artists. Li-Po and Tu-Pu, Vergil and Horace, Goethe and Schiller, 1 Wordsworth and Coleridge, Boileau and Racine, Pushkin and Gogol, to name but a few, are examples of such relation ships. Moreover, the writers themselves have usually acknowledged the advantage of such relationships. Goethe, for Instance, felt that such friendship leading to the exchange of ideas would be an impregnating, engendering force making life more interesting and helping most effec tively the growth of a world literature. Wenn wlr eine europaische, ja eine allgemeine Weltliteratur zu verkundigen gewagt haben, so heiszt dieses nicht dasz die versohiedenen Nationen von einander und ihren Erzeugnissen Kenntnlsz nehmen, denn in dlesem Slnne existiert sle sohon lange, setzt slch fort und emeuert slch me hr oder weniger. NeinI hler 1st vielmehr davon die Rede, dasz die lebendlgen und strebenden Llteratoren einander kennen leraen und durch Neigung und Ge me ins inn sich veranlaszt finden, gesellschaftlich zu wirken. Dieses wird aber mehr durch Reisende als Correspondenz bewirkt, indem ja personllche Gegenwart ganz allein das wahre Verbaltnisz unter Menschen zu bestimmen und zu befestigen im Stande 1st.1 Romain Holland*8 Acknowledgment of the Influence of lieo H. Tolstoy The friendship between Romain Rolland and Leo Tolstoy is a good example of such friendly literary relationships on an international scale. Rolland had admired Tolstoy greatly since the days of his college studies. In the journal written during his days at the £cole Normale, ^Goethe*s Werke Goethes Naturwissenschaftliehe Schriften, 13 Band (Weimar:Herman Bohlaus Nachfolger 190* 0 , p. Mf£. 1886*18899 he called Tolstoy together with Goethe, Phidias, p and Leonardo da Vlncl "astres sublimes." The Impact of Tolstoy's writings at the time of Rolland's maturation was tremendous. He himself testified to It when he wrote In the preface to his book on Tolstoy: To those of ay own generation, the light that has but lately failed was the purest that illumined their youth. In the gloomy twilight of the later nineteenth century it shone as a star of consolation, whose radiance attracted and appeased our awakening spirits.3 Moreover, Rolland thought that Tolstoy was to many of his own generation more than an admired artist. He was a friend, "the best of friends, the one true friend in the whole European art" (Rolland, Tolstoy. p. 5) • On February 23, 1888, Rolland made this note in his journal concerning his future writing projects: Si je vis, voici ce que j'^crirai d'abord: J'dcrlrai les Guerres de Religion. J'ai choisi cette pdriode, pour reallser ma conception de 1'histoire et de la vie.4’ It is interesting to notice perhaps that this "ma con ception de 1'histoire et de la vie" is the very core of Tolstoy's novel, War and Peaoe. As If confirming this con jecture— that his thinking and taste were profoundly 2Romain Rolland, Le Cloitre de la Rue d'Ulm (Paris: Alb in Michel, 1952), p. 3 5. ^Romain Rolland, Tolstoy, trans. Bernard Miall (London: T. Fisher Union, 1911)9 P. 5. ^Rolland, Le Cloitre de la Rue d'Ulm. p. 197. affected by his great Russian contemporary— the young stu dent continued a few pages later with the following state ment: Un module, pour moi, o'est Guerre et Paix. avec cette difference que lea scenes historiquee de Tolstoy ne sont pas les plus vraies et lea mieux traltles. Or, je voudrals fairs l'essai de travailler sur de la matl&re resile; de revivre la vie non d'fttres de fantaisle, mais de oeux qui ont ete, 11 y a trois slides. li ne semble que 1*impression en sera encore plus forte•5 These were the enthusiastic plans of the young prospective author who read Tolstoy’s works intelligently, even criti cally • Tolstoy's words and his ideas found fertile soil in Holland's mind and in his heart. Rolland never denied it. On the contrary he always proudly acknowledged his kinship and his affinity with the senior Russian novelist to whom he wrote a letter on April 10, 1887, expressing his great admiration. In answering this letter, Tolstoy called Rolland his "brother." Thus their friendship was sealed with mutual respect and sympathy. Many years later, looking back on his "long meditative life" as a mature man and a highly successful writer Rolland pondered about his own creative process and the days of his intensive and fruitful creative activity. Analyzing these experiences in order to reveal the meaning of the "mysteries of existence to others as well as to ^Holland, Le Cloitre de la Rue d'Ulm. pp. 198-199. £ himselfhe came to the following conclusions in regard to Tolstoy’s influence upon him. First, that by some curious unde finable sense he felt Tolstoy’s presence in this world a long time before he read his books. He spoke of Tolstoy as • . • the magnificent genius and its roots, spread ing their complicated network under the surface of the earth— knotty and twisted serpents that travel far to drink at the sources of life— (Rolland, Journey Within. P. 29) Then he added: It is by means of those hidden roots, creeping along under the outer envelope of the being and embedding themselves steadfastly in the heart of substance, that we communicated with each other long before we met. Before I had read a single line of Tolstoy’s, my own roots were entwined with his within the substance of the earth. (Rolland. Journey Within. P. 29) -------------- Secondly, reviewing further experiences, events, and influences of his young life, he found that three among many were the most important. They were his visit to Femey, the encounter with "the passionate words of Spinoza," and the revelation of Tolstoy "in the darkness of a tunnel." He analyzed the last one thoroughly and summarized it as follows: . . . Tolstoy's influence upon me has been little understood. Very strong esthetically, considerable from a moral point of view, intellectually it was, nevertheless, of no importance whatever. The superb ^Romain Rolland, Journey Within (New York: Philosoph ical Library, 19^7)* Preface, lx. art of War and Peace. of which I have never found any adequate French appreciation, as the work mysti fies the spirit of the race— that smooth flight of an eagle-eyed genius over the universe; those people of souls, from which a thousand streams flow toward the mighty Ocean, drawn along by the irresistible power of the Eternal Force— responded to the most intimate of my creative aspirations, and offered me my first unequaled model for the new Epic. I never imitated it (our ways and our powers were too far apart), but it was very possibly the inspiration of the "geste," Jean-Chrlstonhe. and of those that followed— those works whose epic quality, it seems to me, no critic has discovered under the guise of novel, drama or biography. (Rolland, Journey Within. P. 27) This statement shows that Rolland believed the main and the most Important Tolstoyan influence upon him was that of form. He felt that he thoroughly understood and appre ciated the formal aspects of Tolstoy's great work and later conceived his own Jean Christoohe as well as his other novels in the same epic dimension. The purpose of this dissertation is to examine in detail the epic qualities of Tolstoy's War and Peace and of Rolland's Jean Christoohe and, after the comparison of the findings, to make some conclusions as to the closeness and validity of the kinship between Tolstoy and Rolland on formal, artistic grounds. Preceding Studies of Similar Nature Certainly, it is not the first time that the kinship of these two great writers has been explored. Russian literature had been made popular in France through Turgenev, but more importantly through a book on Russian novelists by Eug&ne Melchior de Vogutf, which was published in Paris in June, 1886. In this book Tolstoy was introduced to the Prench public with this famous description: "This author might be said to possess the skill of an English chemist with the soul of a Hindu BuddhistE. M. de Vogurf ended his essay on Tolstoy with a prediction that, despite his nihilism, Tolstoy would triumph in the future because in his writings there was a rich fund of vitality, truth, and justice which undoubtedly would capture the Prench reader. The critic’s intuition proved correct. Whereas up to the middle of 1886 only five Prench translations of Tolstoy had been published, between 1886 and 1890 the number was o twenty-five. Recent studies show that the extent and the quality of the acquaintance with Tolstoy in Prance and the appreciation of his work has varied with the generations and the degree of culture, but there is no doubt that Q Tolstoy is still a classic in Prance.7 These were the ^Eugene Melchior de Vogud, The Russian Novelists (Boston: D. hothrop Company, 1887), p. ^12. ^William B. Edgerton, "Book Reviews," Comparative Literature« University of Oregon Publications, 711, Ho* 2 (Spring, 1955)* 156. Jacqueline de Proyart, "Le rayonnement actuel de Tolstoi en Prance" in Annalea de 1*University de Paris. No. 2 (Avril-Juin, I960), wjfit nous oonqluerons ce tour d*horizon en disant qu'en Prance Tolstoi est un classique." findings of Mile, Jacqueline de Proyart in her article, "Le rayonnement de Tolstoi en Prance," published in the Annales de 1'University de Paris. April-June, I960. The author gives an up-to-date list of books about Tolstoy in Prance. The list is impressive. It is dominated by Homaln Rolland*s generation Including Rolland himself. The present generation of Tolstoy’s readers is, however, influenced in its judgment of Tolstoy more by Oide than by Rolland. These young readers generally fail to appreciate the political or philosophical ideas of the writer. More over, they dislike the historical fatalism which blocks the will for action and many times find his social concepts outmoded. Nevertheless they like the psychology, the great word-paintings and are more likely to think of him as a typical Russian writer than as a universal author. They also like Tolstoy's broad, monumental vision which carries him into space and time. In a word, these young readers love Tolstoy with certain minor reservations and would be glad to know him better (de Proyart, p. 208). Prom the more recent studies which deal specifically with Tolstoyan influence upon Prench literature two more should be mentioned, namely P. W. J. Hammings' The Russian Novel in Prance and Thais S, Lindstrom's Tolstoi en Prance. 10 10P. W. J. Hemminga, The Russian Novel in Prance (London: Oxford University Press, 1950), 250 pp.; and Thais S. Lindstrom, Tolstoi en Prance (Paris: Institut d*Etudes Slaves, 1952), 172 pp. Both of these works discuss among other Prench authors Tolstoy's influence upon Rolland. Mr. Hemmings1 study of Jean Christoohe leads him to assert that "Tolstoy's influence on Holland's novel is • . . perceptible, but it is by no means extensive, and does not reach down to essentials(Hemmings, p. 221) Having compared briefly several motifs, such as death, love, and life in several of Tolstoy's novels with the same in Holland's masterpiece, the critic concludes that Rolland's "thought was more affected than his art by pro longed meditation of Tolstoy's writings." (Hemmings, p. 221) With regard to the artistic form, he mentions briefly the epic character of both novels. He believes, however, that Jean Christophe is more a novel of develop ment than an epic novel. Holland had called War and Peace 'une Illade modern©’; Jean-Christophs. one might say, is a lesser Odyssey. ” . . Jean-Jnrletophe partakes more of the German Bildungsroman of whicn Goethe's Wilhelm Meister is the type, than of Tolstoy's novel. (Hemmings, p. 215) Miss Lindstrom devotes a considerable part of her book to the treatment of Tolstoy's influences as a moral ist. She declares that Prench literature in general has been influenced not so much by Tolstoy's artistic methods as by his message. She sees this Influence very strongly in the conception of Rolland*s literary character, Jean Christophe. Whereas J. W. P. Hemmings finds practically 10 nothing In common between Tolstoy personally and the hero of Rolland*8 novel (save one quality only, a "burning passion for life"), Miss Lindstrom Insists: Au {erme de 0on Evolution. Jean-Christophe nous apparajt comme le dlgne representant de l'iddologie tolstoienne— peut-etre unique dans llttdrature modern© (on se demande, d'allleurs, A quel point Romaln Rolland edt conscience de cette Identifica tion) . C'est en dtudfant de quelle mani&re 11 s'est ouvert aux aspects de la vie qu$ nous fonderons sa nature de vrai personage tolstolen. (Lindstrom, p. 58) Moreover, Miss Lindstrom sees the relationship between the two great novelists also In the fact that Rolland created his literary hero, the composer Jean Christophe Krafft, as a follower of Tolstoy's aesthetic theory (p. 60). Both of these writers find Tolstoy's influence upon Rolland to be for the greatest part intellectual and moral. Rolland himself was of a different opinion (Supra. pp. 5-6). Neither Mr. Hemmings nor Miss Lindstrom, because of the more general aims of their works, goes into the detailed studies of the form of War and Peace and Jean Christophe. This dissertation proposes to attempt such an analysis. % CHAPTER II THE EPIC ELEMENTS IN THE NOVEL For the purpose of discussion of the epic elements in the novels of Tolstoy and Holland, it is necessary to clarify and later to define the term, "the epic novel•" This definition can he better arrived at by discussing the genesis and typical characteristics of both the epic and the novel. The Origin and the Nature of the Epic The epic ranks among the oldest forms of literature. Sigmund Freud connected it with the very dawn of human civilization when the individual was emerging from the group psychology. It was then, perhaps, that some individual, in the exigency of his longing, may have been moved to free himself from the group and take over the father’s part. He who did this was the first epic poet, and the advance was achieved in his imagination. This poet disguised the truth with lies in accordance with his longing. He invented the heroic myth.l A similar view regarding the antiquity of the epic is expressed by C. M. Bowra, who believes that the heroic myth ^Robert Maynard Hutchins, ed., The Major Works of Sigmund Freud (Chicago: Encyclopaedia Brltannica, Inc., 1952), p. e$2. 11 12 came into existence when preheroic shamanlstic poetry was touched by the spirit of panegyric or lament, and the ! result was a new kind of poetry. This new poetry kept the objective narrative form of the old poetry which had dealt with the magic, but changed its subject by telling stories 2 which embodied a new ideal of man. Despite this ancient origin, the epic is still exist ent as a distinct genre. The Odyssey. A Modern Sequel, by Nlkos Kazantzakls proves that the epic can be written and appreciated even in our own time. This epic, as does every1 other recently created epic, follows more or less faith fully the form established by Homer and later successfully imitated by Vergil. It was Homer, then, who began the whole business of the epic in the Western world, fixing its| type imperishably in a way that can never be questioned and firmly declaring its artistic purpose. Vergil perfected the type and Milton perfected the purpose^ Thus The Odyssey and The Iliad are extremely important, both his torically and aesthetically, because from them the entire theory of the epic is derived. They are the landmarks in the genre and were the models for antiquity until Vergil 2C. M. Bowra, Heroic Poetry (Londons Macmillan & Co., Ltd., 1952), p. 16. ^Lascelles Abercrombie, The Epic (New Yorks George H. Doran Co., 191*0, p. 57. put them In the backgrounds In the eighteenth century their full significance was again understood, and the^ were once more imitated* As Vergil was one of the most creative j imitators in the history of letters, the Aeneid also marked! an epoch in the history of the epic genre* Vergil built i upon the literary tradition to create new techniques and refinements in the literary epic. Though basically and principally the same, the works of Homer and Vergil show some definite differences with regard to the author's purpose and his philosophy, as well I as the structure, composition, and pace of the work. The folk epic, which originally was recited to a listening audience^— the author's purpose being to entertain the audience— is simple, direct, and objective. The hero sac- j rifices everything in order to achieve personal glory* Thej emphasis throughout the poem is on physical prowess and there are humorous elements interspersed in the narrative. The literary epic, as perfected by Vergil, was meant to be read by educated people* It is tighter in form, more compact, and uses greater economy of means. Instead of ^Richard Heinze, Virgil's Epische Technik (Zweite Auflage; Leiozig und Berlin: Druck und Verlag von B. G. Teubner, 1908), p. 256. ^Gilbert Murray, The Rise of the Greek Epic (Oxford: At the Clarendon Press, 192^), p. 30^* repetitions there are variations. Also, it is allusive, suggestive, and at times even symbolical. In the literary epic the author carefully analyses motives of action and characterization, making his work introspective as well as philosophical. The hero is subordinated to a higher end which is usually some social ideal. In this way the stature of the hero develops, and besides the purpose of entertainment there exists often a didactic or moral aim 6 which makes the poetic narrative uniformly serious. Milton, with his Paradise Lost, is supposed to have "per fected the purpose" of the epic (Abercrombie, p. 57), because he created his great poem on the loftiest subject ever attempted, namely, man's relationship with God, the problem of the universe, and the individual's ultimate end. The Encyclopaedia Britannica states that epic poetry received its name from the Greek work, " fc-Tojj" a story, 7 and "tft'tx/co/," pertaining to a story. The name "epic," itself, as the Greeks of the classical age understood it, was defined only by its differences from lyric and dramatic. As distinguished from lyric, it meant poetry which was ^Meyer Reinhold, Essentials of Greek and Roman Classics (Great Neck, New York: Barron1s Educational Series, Inc., 1958), pp. 282-83. ^Edmund V. Gosse, "Epic Poetry," Encyclopaedia Britannica. 11th ed., IX (Cambridge, England: At the University Press, 1910), 681. 15 recited, not sung* As distinguished from dramatic poetry, 8 it meant poetic composition which was narrated, not acted* Now the epic is defined as a long narrative poem of ambitious scope, which in verse of noble dignity sets forth the life and deeds of gods and heroic mortals of an ancient mythical past as a reflection of national or racial ideals*” The epic themes are varied and involve the political, religious, and personal Interests of a hero, of a people, of mankind. Accordingly the epic poet has to plan the design and suit the form of his work. Moreover, the poem has to awaken the sense of "the mysterious, the awful and the sublime; through perilous crises to uplift and calm *the strife of frail humanity •* For choosing epic material, no firm principle has been established or accepted* Practically, the epic authori takes some great story which has been absorbed in the pre vailing consciousness of the people (Abercrombie, p. Mt). As a rule, though not quite invariably, the story will be of things which are, or seem so far back in the past, that anything may credibly happen. (Abercrombie, p. 3*0 Q R. C. Jebb, The Growth and Influence of Classical Greek Poetry (New Yorks Houghton Mifflin Co., 1873)> P. 32. ^Harold R. Walley and J. Harold Wilson, The Anatomy of Literature (New York: Ferrar and Reinhart* 1931 *) * P. IBB.---- Charles M. Gayle and Benjamin Kurtz, Methods and Materials of Literary Criticism (Boston: Ginn and Co *. T$26),’ "p. 'W f. ------------------ 16 Further, the story is embellished with incidents, charac ters, conflicts, and adventures which are unified into the whole through the author’s ability to translate all this material into some deeply embedded general human feelings. There is only one thing which can master the per plexed stuff of epic material into unity; and that is an ability to see in particular human experience some significant symbolism of man's general destiny. (Abercrombie, p. 17) Having thus unified his work, the epic poet aims at the completeness and solidity of the world to be portrayed. He frequently has to introduce elements from familiar sur roundings and from his own experiences in order to give his narrative strength and plausibility. The most complete vision of life is to be found in Homer, the fountainhead of Western poetiy (Bowra, p. 567). For this same reason, namely, to create the complete picture of life, the great epic poets always frankly accepted the social conditions of their own time. They incorporated them without hesita tion in their poems, because by this they were able to broaden the scope of their -work as well as give depth to the spirit of the age which they portrayed. The fusion of ages in the epic is neither desirable nor undesirable; it is merely inevitable. It means that epic poetry keeps up with the development of human life (Abercrombie, p. 26). Other devices aiming at the completeness of life in the epic are the introduction of mythology, the super natural, history, and philosophy. The myth, in a way, i7, j summarizes the beliefs, hopes, and thoughts of the people, j It is a part of the picture of the world.^ With the myth , is closely connected the supernatural, which is by no means- essential to the epic, but has been used to advantage since the time of Homer. Vergil made use of old rites and cult formulas. They were not Invented as curiosities by a sophisticated author, but were meant to show customs and traditions of better times, and to arouse respect and long ing for the past (Heinze, p. *+76). Later, other epic writers varied in their opinions as to whether the super natural is an effective means of epic narrative. For Voltaire it was a faded dream: "Lucan is to be commended for having laid the gods aside, and thus given proof that the intervention of the gods is not absolutely required in an epic poem." Yet what to substitute? The allegory of the Henriade has not found many admirers, the new spiritualities were fainter than the old. Tasso used mythological figures; Ossian, ghosts and spirits; and Spenser, fantastic elements. With the begin nings of secularization the Christian divine background was no longer all-important and in the eighteenth century there were attempts to substitute for it philosophical symbols and systems. -^Herbert Seidler, Die Pichtung (Stuttgart: Alfred Kroner Verlag, 1959) > p. 525. Macneile Dixon, English Epic and Heroic Poetry (London: J. M. Dent & Sons Ltd.; New fork: E. P. Dutton & Co., 1912), p. If. 18 How it ia the mechanisms of physics and biology and psychology that lend new factors to the paradox of life, and not the intelligent cunning of a cosmic devil. Will a new epic poem he possible on such a theme? Or is this a thing better suited to the longer freedom of prose. Whether other substitutions for the supernatural are possi ble and could be used successfully to enlarge the epic scope, complete the vision of life, and lend the epic poem universality is to be seen. The epic poet is not interested in the historical fact or event per se, but only insomuch as it lends inspir ation to his work and enlarges its scope. Neither does he Interpret history for its own sake. He makes drama of his own passions and ideas in which he somehow Interweaves the historical facts and national glory. The famous historian of our time, Arnold J. Toynbee, observes* It has, for example, been said of the Iliad that anyone who start3 reading it as history will find that it is full of fiction, but, equally, anyone who starts reading it, as fiction will find that it is full of history Equally, it is not the purpose of the epic poet to record the great victories or great disasters, but he is vitally interested in the ideas and sentiments of heroism that spring up naturally during the periods of great historical ^Philo M. Buck, Jr., Literary Criticism (New York and London* Harper & Brothers Publishers, 1930), p. 350. Arnold J. Toynbee, A Study of History. Abridgment of Vols. I-VI by D. C. Somervell (New fork, London: Oxford University Press, 19^-7), p. Mf. 19 15 significance. For these reasons many events and facts which seem to concern historical personages tend to be plainly fabulous. Also poets simplify. Very often they may unite into a single episode events which actually took place in differ ent times in order to make their own story more signifi cant; or sometimes they bring heroes together in a single period, in a simple society, though historically they may be separated by a considerable gap of years (Bowra, pp. 519-522). In this way an entirely insignificant his torical event may grow to tremendous scope and importance, as was the case in the Song of-Roland. The historical Ingredient is so typical and so advantageous an aspect of the epic that there are hardly any successful epics with out it. Even "for Milton the Fall of Man was a subject of universal interest and he believed it to be a historical fact." (Dixon, p. 19*0 The same could be said about Klopstock and his Messiah. For the completeness of the vision of life and the world, it is necessary to endow the narrative with a philosophical system. Actually the systematic philosophy is more or less the result of the civilized society and presents itself in the epics which are written during the 15 P* Ker, Epic and Romance (London: Macmillan and Co., Ltd., 1908), p. 25. 20 flourishing of such civilisations. First it appears in the Aeneid. the prototype of the modem European literary epio.i Yet there is no doubt that Homer and the creators of Gilgamesh. or Beowulf. or the medieval folk epics expound in their works the basic philosophy of life. Homer's view i i is profound and basic, though the truly philosophical out- ! look on man's fate and dirties comes in with Vergil. From Homer we receive an impression that man's free will is the 1 ultimate motivation for man's action. Wir haben bei Homer durchaus den Eindruck, dasz der Mensch seines Schicksals Sohmled 1st; auch dem Achill stand ja die Wahl frei, ein langes ruhmloses Leben statt des herrllch kurzen zu fuhren. Der Mensch geht seinen Weg nach elgnem Wunsch und Entschlusz, von seiten der Gotter erfahrt er Hinderung und F&rderung, je nach dem er sie sich zu Freunden oder Feinden gemacht hat. (Helnze, p. 297) Not so Aeneas. He is a stoic; always ready to fulfill his duty, though this is counter to his own will and deslre4 He cannot follow his wishes and contradict his destiny, because this would be sheer madness. He is, in a way, a tool in the hands of the gods, and of fate which makes use of him to start the Roman Empire, the significance of which in the scheme of things of this world has been of extreme importance. So in Vergil and in Homer we are confronted not only with two principles of art, but also with two philosophies: the complex philosophy of the Aeneid and the mere We1tanshauung (Heinze, p. 29) of The Iliad and The Odyssey. For Milton the embedding of the philosophical 21 system In his epic became the prime consideration. Quite appropriately he used the language which expressed the meaning in a symbolic way, because to him . . . at least, it would have appeared madness to strip poetry of its intellectual meaning, to regard it as no more than a decorative screen or musical composition. (Dixon, p. 206) There are two other effective means for enlarging the epic scope and providing for its all-inclusiveness, namely, the bringing into the poem the author's knowledge acquired through education and presenting generously the poet's observation of life. The former is apparent as early as Apollonius of Rhodes, whose details on various matters out side the immediate subject are truly overwhelming. Since they are done most of the time in the basic narrative voice, they become too subjective to be of much value. Quite the contrary in Vergil, Dante, and others, the erudi tion is an organic part of the narrative• Vergil speaks very seldom in his own words, but either lets his charac ters talk and describe the places, monuments, customs, etc., or presents the information as part of the action (Heinze, p. b77). Dante knows how to extemporize his own learning as well as the dogmas of medieval theology through the structure of his great poem. A great deal of the same effect is achieved by the realistic details acquired through the author's acute observation of life. They create impressions of true life, 22 make the narrative conform to actuality as much as possible, and bring the story down to earth* The portrayal of i earthly ideals and practical matters is unavoidable, because it corresponds to the world of the heroic age with which the epic poet has to deal. An heroic age may be full of all kinds of nonsense and superstition, but its motives are mainly positive and sensible,— cattle, sheep, piracy, abduction, mer chandise, recovery of stolen goods, revenge. The narrative poetry of an heroic age whatever dignity it may obtain either by its dramatic force of imagi nation, or by the aid of its mythology, will keep its hold upon such common matters, simply because it cannot do without the essential practical Interests, and has nothing to put in their place, if kings and chiefs are to be represented at alL . . . (Ker, pp. 8-9) These details are transferred via heroic poetry and epic lays into the epic. They carry over into the epic their peculiar forms of expression. In this way they become typical epic motifs including both the thematic and the formal aspects. The most important among such motifs, according to C. M. Bowra, ares 1. Dealing with arrivals and departures; decorous presentation of gifts, delivery of speeches, pour ing of libations. Also, persons arriving with news • 2. Scenes of getting up in the morning and those of going to bed. Also, sometimes dressing, arraying himself, or disguising described in detail. 3. Feasts, entertainments. Description of eating and drinking in accuracy and at some length. Epic heroes seem to have healthy appetites, as befit their ebullient vitality. Homer, however, is very ^restrained with regard to drinking scenes and uses dignified language when describing them. He refers to the drunkard as "heavy with wine.” Cyclops, it has been observed, is the greatest consumer of this beverage. Even in the drunken state the heroes usually conduct themselves with heroic propriety (Bowra, pp. 179-211 *). Battle scenes and combat scenes. Description of weapons. Affection for horses and sometimes their individ ualized portrayal. For instance, Homeric heroes treat their horses as their companions and expect the most from them (p. 160). Hector’s horses have names: Chestnut, Brightfoot, and Gleamer; and Hector reminds them what good treatment they used to receive from him and Andromache• They always had barley in abundance and on some occasions even wine (Iliad, VIII, 18^-190) (Bowra, pp. I59“l60). The palace is given due attention (pp. 132-178), but the natural background is practically neglected in this regard, except perhaps the garden of Alcinous in The Odyssey (Book VII). The 2k background is built into the narrative through different techniques than just mere description. This immense completeness of the world represented in the epic poem can take on tremendous dimensions if uncon trolled. Aristotle recommended that the beginning and the end of an epic must be within the scope of a single view,^ a phrase, perhaps, to be interpreted simply, "of such a length as~_can be read in a day" (Dixon, p. 3)* Mintumo would restrict the epic to the events of a single year; Ronsard allows no more; Horace: an episode or episodes from the life of the hero; Giraldi: whole biography (Dixon, p. 3). All these recommendations are attempts to find a successful solution for limiting or rather condensing the epic scope by restricting the subject matter through selec tion. On the other hand, there are various techniques which are used by the authors themselves to achieve the same purpose• As Horace observed, Homer plunges straight into his subject in medias res. He does not compose a long rambling epic on the Trojan War, but selects a theme in The Iliad, for instance, which enables the author to present only a phase of the war. This sense of form so disciplines his art that he can end his poem and completely develop his -^Aristotle, On the Art of Poetry, trans. S. H. Butcher (New York: flhe £f6eral Arts Press, 1957), p. 33. theme without ever describing the end of the war and the capturing of Troy. If he had treated his subject in chronological sequence and in a quasi historical fashion, he might have achieved a good work from the point of view of style and craftsmanship, but it would not have been more than a reporting of war, a representation possibly of much 17 greater length and lesser power. Apollonius Hhodius did this. He was not able to limit his subject to the presen tation of the acquisition of the fleece only, but went into the entire description of the journey which, after the fleece is procured, is of no more interest to the reader (Heinze, p. ^33)• Economy of scope can be achieved also by restricting or even eliminating the background descriptions. Does this mean that the epic poet lacks appreciation of nature or knowledge of his surroundings? Not at all. He is doing it for the sake of tightening the narrative. The observa tions from nature come in usually in the form of the epic simile. For analogous reasons the epic poet does not go into long descriptions of the characters, but rather sug gests the character through the epic epithet and the simile. He also uses other basic characterization tech niques, such as actions, speeches, reactions, other -^H. D. F. Kitto, The Greeks (Baltimore, Md.s Penguin Books, 1957), p. *+6. 26 characters* views, etc. The speeches of the epic charac ter may be sometimes very lengthy and repetitious. The epic writer tolerates this because they are effective means to create the atmosphere of leisure, calm, and confidence. Nevertheless, the literary epic sacrifices these long speeches or brings in variations (Heinze, p. *+59)» achiev ing the mood with different techniques. Thus in Vergil there are Einfache grosze Linien, TXbersichtlichkeit und Klarheit im Kleinen wie im Oroszen, strenge Geschlossenheit des Aufbaus, Verzicht auf alles uberschussige Detail, das den Blick zerstreuen und die einheitliche Wlrkung truben konnte— das waren ja die Frinziplen. (Heinze, p. *+92) From the point of view of structure, Harold R. Walley and J. Harold Wilson summarize the epic as follows: Structurally the epic story is presented in three parts or movements. The first begins in mediae res. at that point in the story which pro pare s for iiie climax to recapitulate preceding events in the form of a narrative; the second pauses just before the climax to recapitulate preceding events in the form of a narrative; the third resumes the story at the point of pause and includes the climax and d£nou- ment. (pp. 189-190) Thus there is a definite design and an aim at unity which is very great in the literary epics where the materials are carefully selected and superfluous details omitted. There fore, the epic differs greatly from the chronicle in which the parts of the narrative are not subordinated to the whole. In the chronicle, "the canvas is crowded with 27 18 detail, but there is no centre to the picture." Despite the attempt at the limitation of scope, the atmosphere remains unrestrained. Thus A. W. Schlegel was able to talk about Homer*s "epische Ruhe." Perhaps Homer’s works were bom in an atmosphere of leisure and comfort, and his listeners were curious and tolerant. The ancient poet’s action moves slowly. It is constantly interrupted by side episodes, accompanied by stories. In the same leisurely way, Homer introduces his speeches. As a rule, he uses a formula for the introductions, saying, for instance, "He took the word and spoke thus"; or, "He said in answering." Yet before mentioning the latter, the poet usually feels it necessary to mention that the previous 19 speaker had terminated his speech. Vergil, however, is different. He likes to plunge immediately into the action and there are very few retarding moments in his action (Heinze, p. 317). Nevertheless the atmosphere of Vergil’s 18 Dixon, English Epic and Heroic Poetry, p. 135. "Laymon’s chronicle differs from the true epic not in respect of scope, of general character and intention, nor in respect of the type of matter he handles, nor yet in respect of the spirit of his narrative. . . . It differs from epic in that the parts are not subordinated to the whole, and again in the absence of clearly-defined types of character. The canvas is crowded with detail, but there is no centre to the picture. No circumference limits his design, the materials are not selected, for nothing is omitted." l^Emil Ermatinger, Das Diohterieche Kunstwerk (Leipzig und Berlins Verlag und Druck von B. f i r . Teubner, 1939)» p. 17. epic is also the same— calm, serene, leisurely, but it is achieved through the sheer perfection of form, balance, and proportion of structure. Finally, there ought to be mentioned several specifi cally epic devices which, if used in any other genre, are > recognized and labeled as "epic." The formula, for instance, is such a device. "A formula is a set of words I which is used with little or no change, whenever the situation with which it deals occurs” (Bowra, p. 222). It f refreshes the listeners* minds, awakens in them the description of characters and events. Also, it helps the audience to relax, because the phrase is familiar and i demands no great effort of comprehension. Finally, I reappearing at certain intervals it provides the rhythm. i In the first twenty-five lines of The Iliad there are at | least twenty-five formulae of one kind or another, and in the first twenty-five lines of The Odyssey there are about 20 thirty-three. Invocation is another such peculiarity of the epic. It reveals the author’s aesthetic belief, namely that the poetry is created through inspiration, that human and divine forces are cooperating in the creative act. The Parry, ''Studies in the Epic Technique of Oral Verse-Making. I. Homer and Homeric Style," Harvard Studies in Classical Philology. 1:118, 1930. 29 purpose of the Invocation may also be to guarantee that the poet's account is an authoritative one of real historical 21 events and real historical personages. Also, it indi cates the all-inclusiveness of the epic world by suggesting the close relationship between earth and heaven, the natural and the supernatural. It gives the idea of the well-ordered and unified universe. For the same purpose, in the epic, are used prophesies, omens, dreams, and the journey to the underworld, and structurally they become an effective means of foreshadowing. The epic question, answered Immediately by the poet, is another specific epic device. Its construction is typical of epic poets' constant aim of producing a balanced structure. The epic writer also uses the balanced con trast in plots, scenes, phrases, and characters (Reinhold, p. 39). As a true epic has its roots in the native soil despite the fables sometimes included in its body, the epic hero is a national hero, strong, courageous, noble yet realistic. Many epic heroes of the Greeks are hand some as well. Furthermore, they are resourceful, generous, and hospitable. Usually the epic heroes are kings, ^W. Marz, "Homer uber die Dichtung," Classical Philology. 5^113^-135, April, 1959. knights, great warriors, and leaders coining from the upper class of society, but, as a rule, they are always closely connected with the native traditions, customs, and history. Although epic characters are men of superior gifts and greater than other men, basically they do not differ from their fellow men, because the distinction is one of degree. They are endowed with peculiar force and energy which sur passes the same qualities in other men*8 characters. They devote most of their talents to some concrete cause which provides scope for action and an end towards which to direct their efforts. Heroism for its own sake is excep tional (Bowra, p. 131). However, there is the constant thirst for fame as well as continual boasting by these warriors of their personal prowess. The summit of a hero's ambition is to have his glory celebrated everywhere and for 22 all time. In the literary epics of a highly developed civilization the hero might try to achieve his end in order to fulfill his duty as a man: to realize himself as a member of society. Therefore, the wealth desired or the war booty won are coveted not for the sake of increasing well-being and comfort, but rather for the sake of display and achieving significance as a leader. Boasting and fond ness for display aside from their values in the narrative— 2^H. Munro Chadwick, The Heroic Age (Cambridge: University Press, 1912), p. Mtl. 31 creating dramatic effects— reveal also human vanity which in its turn makes the hero more lifelike* Consequently, the view regarding the epic hero's nobility and virtue was never firmly established. It had changed during various periods of epic history and criticism. Torquato Tasso, for instance, thought that the epic hero should be perfectly virtuous, whereas Dryden maintained that it is not neces sary that the manners of the hero should be immaculate (Dixon, p. b). The most important thing is that the char acter of the epic hero has to be richly endowed with the typical traits of his age, because a poem which is, in some: sort, a summation for its time of the values of life, will inevitably have to concern itself with at least one figure, and probably with several, in whom "... the whole virtue, and perhaps the whole failure of living seems superhumanly concentrated" (Abercrombie, p. 50). Since the hero represents a typical and an ideal man of his age, he cannot be individualized to a very great extent. Thus he cannot undergo change in the same sense as some characters of novels or short stories do. Achilles', Nestor's, Odysseus', Aeneas* experiences are deep and varied, their lives venturesome and enterprising, yet the characters themselves do not change much as a result of these experiences. Even Dante, who, as the legend has it, never smiled after having gone through hell, purgatory, and paradise, basically remains the same. Neither do the characters of the Nibelungenlied undergo any change, Kriemhild being an exception, of course (Seidler, p. 527). For this reason epic characters are painted in bold, powerful strokes, because a multiplicity of fine detail would spoil the epic grandeur as it did in the Argonautioa by Apollonius Hhodius. Whereas Vergil's Dido is a truly epic character, Apollonius* Medea, charm ing and lovely, and psychologically true, lacks the epic quality (Heinze, p. *f58). In order to create a character in such a way, the epic author uses diverse techniques and devices. He con fronts his hero with various situations where the latter can show his great courage and resourcefulness and employ the fullest measure of his capacities. There are combats, wars, and games where the hero outshines all his rivals in splendor and greatness. Even in defeat, the epic character is magnificent and glorious. Yes, there are defeats in the epics, too. Although seemingly splendid when described, the epic heroes are, nevertheless, frequently tragic. Achilles knows that he must die young; therefore he is pitiable the more, when he loses Briseis and his friend. The tragic fate of Achilles is stressed particularly in the scene where Odysseus meets him in Hades. The great warrior, reduced to a sad shade in the darkness of the 33 underworld, longs for the sun of the earth and would be ready to choose the hard lot of a servant if he could be alive again. Both Enkidu and Siegfried die young. Gllgamesh is tragic when he realizes the meaning and the inevitability of death. Aeneas is no exception to this rule when he accepts God's will and faithfully fulfills his duty in his quiet and determined way. Odysseus seems to be full of exuberant joy of life, yet his comment on man's destiny reflects sadness and resignation. Of all the creatures that breathe and move upon the earth, nothing is bred that is weaker than man. He thinks no evil thing can ever come upon him, so long as the gods give him power and his knees are nimble; but when the blessed Gods bring sorrow, he has to bear this also, unwillingly yet with patient heart.23 The most tragic characters in the epic are probably Dido and Kriemhild and Dante's Paolo and Francesca; but no less so is Brunhild, whose pride and heart are mortally wounded. However, this tragic vein does not taint the epic in dark colors; neither does it envelop it in a sad or melancholic atmosphere. The vision of the epic poet is all-inclusive and his narrative is perfectly balanced. The language of the epic is elevated. There is no buffoonery or vulgarity. It can be seen that it is created ^^Homer, The Odyssey. trans W. H. D. Rouse (New York* The New American Library of World Literature, Inc., 1962), P. 193. 3*f by a cultured poet and It Is meant for a dignified audi ence. On the other hand there is no exaggeration in expression. The imagery as a rule is of realistic origin. Most of the time the dialogue is life-like; so is the basic narrative voice and the descriptions. Monologues, though rare, can be found as early as Homer, but Vergil is the one who Improves them. As a rule the character does not speak to himself (except Juno in the Aeneid), but addresses some invisible god, or lover, or stars, or trees (Heinze, p. M-28). The extended simile and epithet are the principal ornaments of the epic language. Nevertheless they also fulfill other functions* those of characterization, description of background, social setting. Prof. Herbert Reed in The Nature of Literature main tains* There is a time element in the laws governing the formation of an epic: it demands distance in memory and perspective in design; it needs more than an individual point of view. As the story passes from one generation to another, it becomes more definite, more compact, what is no,t apt for memory gets fQ£~ gotten. What remains is eternally significant.2^ However, this natural selection is not sufficient. The epic poet is the one on whose Judgment and creative intui tion rests the final decision. What kind of man is he that ^Herbert Read, The Nature of Literature (New York: Horizon Press, 1956;, p. 154-. 35 he can produce so complicated and so monumental a work of art? No doubt he takes his Job very seriously. For him the Ideals expressed in his work are the greatest. Therefore he tries to detach himself from it, viewing it with respect and awe, and trying to be as objective and impartial as possible. Yet this objective attitude is not coldness or rigidity. In the respect that he shows to his work can be detected an emotion (Seidler, p. 526), but this emotion is not an imbalanced one which would bring about fluctuations in mood or an uneven style. The poet's attitude remains composed and his frame of mind undisturbed. The epic poet, moreover, in every way is a truly normal individual with a natural appetite for life in its entirety with its para doxes and sorrows. What he observes and encounters he calls "good" and sings with gusto of the world as sane and delightful. That life was a vale of tears, in which nothing could matter very much, was an idea that very few Greeks entertained. They had the keenest appetite for activity of all kinds— physical, mental, emo tional; a never-ending delight in doing things, and in seeing how they were done. Almost any page of Homer will bear testimony to this. (Kitto, p. 59) Thomas Mann explains the objectivity of the epic poet from a different point of view. He calls the epic "Apollo's art," and Apollo, says he, is the God of distance, of objec tivity, of irony. Objectivity and irony for Thomas Mann 36 mean the same. Therefore, the spirit of the epic Is the spirit of irony. Irony, according to Prof. Emil Ermatinger, is the "wesentlich Spiel des Intellekts mit dem Stoffllchen, Triumph der Idee uber das Motiv" (Ermatinger, p. 219) * but Thomas Mann defines his usage of the term “irony," in a different way. Speaking about irony and attributing it to the epic he says: Aber ich gebrauche das Wort hier in einem welteren, groeaseren Sinn: dem Sinn der Kunst selbst, elne Allbejahung, die eben als solche auch All-vemeinung 1st; ein sonnenhaft klar und helter das Ganze umf as sender Bliok, der eben der Blick der Kunat, will sagen, der Blick hoechster Frelheit, Ruhe und von keinem Moralismus getruebten Sachlichkeit 1st. • . • Die epische Ironle 1st viel mehr elne Ironle des Herzens, eine liebevolle Ironle; es 1st die Groesse, die voller Zaertllchkeit 1st fuer das Elelne. (Mann, p. if62) Thus the irony of the epic poet is the irony of the man who knows all and understands all, and therefore toler ates all. As he stands above his subject and can manipu late it dispassionately, objectively, he is a truly omnis cient author, claiming knowledge of everything and greatly differing from a dramatist, who does not appear himself in his work. This self-confidence of the epic writer comes not only from his thorough assimilation of his subject but also from 2^Thomas Mann, "Die Kunst des Romans," Gesammelte Werke (Elfter Band, Aufbau Verlag, Berlin, 1956), p. *+6l. 37 his artistic genius. Though an artist is bom, he Is also partly developed through the total sum of experiences imprinted upon his soul In the process of life. The lmmedi-i ate environment, social background, education, religion, art mold and shape an artist* The epic poet is expected to present a complete world of his own choice. Obviously this cannot be created out of nothing. Only great ages bear great personalities and great artists, and it is not by accident that the great epics are created either at the peak of the development of a civilization, or in the descending part of it. The Novel: Its Origin and Its Attributes Despite the perfection and complexity of form, the epic is no longer the most popular form of literature. The genre of our century is the novel. Whatever its origins, the novel is closely related to the epic. Prof. David Daiches in his Critical Approaches to Literature maintains: Aristotle’s account of the epics is of special interest to us today because the epic was the nearest approach among the literary.forms of the ancient world to the modem novel As a matter of fact the novel is often believed to have been developed from the epic. Thomas Mann thought that the 2^David Daiches, (New York: Prentice H origin of the novel should not be sought in the degenera tion of the epos, but rather in their very beginning, in the old primitive folk-epics (Mann, p. *+63) • As a distinct genre the novel appears rather late and the first example of its form is considered to be Don Quixote which Cervantes wrote as a "burlesque of the epic" (Buck, p. 383). Discussing the sources of Cervantes’ novel, Dr. Philo M. Buck, Jr., notices that Cervantes took the interest in the common people from the old fabliaux, but added to it his own knowledge and observation of life* He knew well the inns, the houses of petty gentry, and knew the people of Spain. This knowledge was transferred into his work. The form element and the seriousness of inten tion Cervantes took from the epic. I am not anxious [says Prof. Philo M. Buck, Jr.] to push too far the debt that fiction owes to the old epic. It is known, however, that Fielding was a student of de Bossu’s traits on the epic. Certainly Cervantes was indebted to theplot technique of the current epics of Spain and Italy. See the catalogue of books in the library of his hero. It took time for the novel to acquire the rank of a literary genre. As late as the eighteenth century Schiller still called it "eine halbpoetische Gattung" (Seidler, P. 533)• The earliest extant work which attempts to take the novel seriously is by Abb£ Pierre Daniel Huet (1630- 1721), Essai sur 1*origins des romans. published in 1670. The author, a scholar and Bishop of Avranches, defines the 39 novel in this manners What are properly described as novels are works of fiction dealing with amorous adventures, written in prose with art for the pleasure and instruction of readers. . • • Thus the entertainment of the readers, which appears to be the aim of the skillful novelist, is subordinated to the principal aim which is the instruction of the mind and the correction of manners. The novels are more or less regular accord ing to the degree in which they approach or depart from this definition and this aim. ^ The author brings out the rather limited subject of the novel, its entertaining and educational qualities as well as its social aspects. At the same time he reveals the novelist's serious and independent attitude towards his work. That "approaching" and "departing" from this aim is the main reason which eventually caused the great complex ity of the new genre, because the tendency of freedom for the novelist remained preserved till our own times. The famous novelist of the nineteenth century, Henry James, in his treatise, "Art of Fiction," broadened and generalized the definition of the novel, maintaining that the only reason for the existence of the novel is its 28 "attempt to represent life." This representation should come from a direct personal impression of life (James, p. 297). The only requirements which Henry James made are 2^As quoted in Martin Turnell. The Novel in France (New York: Vintage Books, Inc., 195177 P* *+27. 2®In Approaches to the Novel, ed. Robert Scholes (San Francisco: (Jhandler f*ublishing Co., 1961), P* 293. truth and sincerity on the part of the novelist. Thus the novel did not become a closed or an established genre, but it had been and it is still today the dynamic art which can go hand in hand with "the rapidly expanding universe" and the "changing man." The novel still holds to the rule of Henry James: The advantage and luxury, as well as the torment and the responsibility of the novelist is that there is no limit to what he may attempt as an executant— no limit to his possible experiments, efforts, dis coveries, successes. (James, p. 297) On the other hand, it is not necessary for a novelist to aim at all-inclusiveness of life in his novel or presen tation of a world complete with a philosophy and a moral code. He can choose as a theme and be very successful with the specific, the accidental, or the eccentric. Also, a novelist does not need to integrate these things within a unified scheme, but can analyze them per se separately, minutely. Thus in some novels there is an emphasis on the physical aspects of man in some of "the disparate and dis- 29 persed elements of our life— the soul life" 7 only, in others on social, historical, regional, topical, profes sional, and other problems. Going to the extremes and to the unusual is by no 2^Henry Miller, "Reflections on Writing," in The Crea- tive Process, ed. Brewster Ghiselin (New Tork: A Mentor Boole, 1355), p. I8*f. hi means an atypical trait of our own age. For instance, the novelist, Henry Miller, sees his great chance in the por trayal of disintegration and decompositions I might say that I have always looked upon decay as being just as wonderful and rich in expression of life as growth. (Miller, p. 18*0 The real problem is faced, though, in creating the most suitable form as a vehicle of expression for such a ♦ varied and complex matter. The conditions of truth and sincerity demanded once by Henry James and still valid for every true novelist help to avoid indulgence, sentimental ity, false idealism, didacticism, and other elements that kill art. James' third principle--freedom— when applied to form becomes an element of extreme challenge, but of great danger as well. As a challenging factor it spurs the writer to seek for new, more adequate expression of his matter, for the newly emerging phenomena of life; yet here lies a danger also, because the author can lose himself in his new experiments and go to extremes. The fact remains that a novel is not and cannot be a stereotyped form. It contains in itself both thematically and formally the dynamism, the potency for development. Novelists seek untiringly to make their works original, new, novel; hence perhaps came the name itself. The dynamic nature of the novel does not preclude, of course, the scholars' and critics' attempts to define 1+2 tt* According to the modem critics, the novel ... is a long story which aims to produce a unified effect by embodying certain truths of experi ence in a series of Imagined incidents or events. It is large in scope and often covers a number of diverse characters, scenes, and themes. Its plot tends to be highly complex. It may make use of many varieties of subject matter and of any or all the devices of narrative technique, while its varia tions upon the purpose of f lot ion are as numerous as its authors. (Walley and Wilson, p. 103) This definition implies that the traditional ingredi ents of the narrative art remain the same as in the epic, namely, the story, the characters, the theme, and plot. New are the variety of subject matter, multiplicity of themes, the detailed description of the background, and the diversity of techniques. To an entirely new concept of the narrative leads the focussing of "the point of view," to a different and more definitely psychological portrayal of characters, "the stream of consciousness"; also, new tech niques are employed with regard to creating an atmosphere, variety of tone, etc. A different principle is sought in the composition by proportioning and arranging uniquely the "pictorial" (narrative-descriptive) and "scenic" (dramatic) parts of the work. Practically any subject can be selected; however, the selected material has to be shaped into the artistic prod uct. Various elements in the novel itself as well as artistic techniques and devices used by the artist help to do this. The story, for instance, remains an important part of the novel and serves as a form of discipline, pre venting characters from struggling about aimlessly, narrows and deepens the channels along which they may develop.^0 From the very beginning of the new genre there was a great emphasis upon the characterization. At first usually only one character stood in the center and the narrative evolved from him. However, in no way does this character of the picaresque novel remind us of an epic hero "greater than life." On the contrary, he is very life-like and from the very beginning there is an attempt at individualizationi The character cannot be summarized in one phrase even in a picaresque novel. He is presented through a variety of techniques, though he rarely undergoes a change during his fictional existence as is expected in the character of a modem novel. With the development of new knowledge about life and men, the character in the novel becomes an extremely com plex individual. It is the purpose of the modem novelists to lay bare the most secret and intimate truths of hunan nature and to present them through the characters which are as life-like as possible. At the same time an attempt is made to analyze or to suggest the motives for the char acters' behavior, to bring to light the ultimate reality 30Robert Liddell, Some Principles of Fiction (London: Jonathan Cape, 1953), p"^ 8*+. M+ hidden at the bottom of the human soul, to reveal the properties which transcend existence and give meaning to it. Obviously the "old” techniques, such as the acting and the reacting of the characters, the dialogue and the monologue, or the direct description are no longer adequatew Many new techniques, including "stream of consclousnes8N were devised. Yet, no matter how brilliant the inventions and how gifted the artists, one has to recognize the impos sibility— except in some isolated cases— of equating the fictional characters with the real ones. Prof. R. Liddell, mentioning the fact that James Joyce’s character, Bloom, is shown not only eating his food but also digesting it, remarks: "Probably the only serious attempt to make homo fictus coexistensive with homo sapiens is that of James Joyce . The recent tendency of the French nouveau roman seems to be a reaction to this. According to critic Richard Gilman: The representatives of this school of the novel, such as, Robbe-Grillet, Nathalie Sarraute, Roland Barthes, Michel Butor and others have turned away from the psychological analysis, the most popular element of contemporary fiction, in order "to create the psychology a fr e s h ." ’ 2 31A Treatise on the Novel (London: Jonathan Cape, 19^7), p. 91. 32"Total Revolution in the Novel," Horizon. *+*96-101, January, 1962. Boland Barthes maintains that he Is writing his book not from the point of view of a "confessor,” a doctor, or God himself, "but rather from the point of view of a man who has no other power than that of his own eyerf1 (Gilman, P. 100). The result in literary criticism is the epithet, "chosisme"— "thingishness"— applied to Robbe-Grillet*s work as well as "objectivism" to the works of others (Gilman, p. 96). Natalie Sarraute maintains that most of what we think and feel is inauthentic, and literature that is not continually purging itself of the known tends to confirm us in our borrowed gestures instead of freeing us. (Gilman, p. 98) Therefore, her intention as a novelist is twofold: to com pel the truth behind appearances to reveal itself by reporting minutely the appearances in the most precise language and to purge literature from certain characteris tics which have become conventional or false (Gilman, P. 98). The themes of the novel, despite the new discoveries remain basically the same. The novelist remains preoccu pied with man, his environment, with things which are dis covered through the writer's senses or through his creative intuition. Not so the plot. Its construction has changed and the emphasis upon it in the novel constantly varies. Every plot is a synthesis of action, of character, and of be 33 thought. Therefore plots differ in structure as one or another of the three causal Ingredients Is employed as a synthesizing principle (Crane, p. 66), In order to accom plish this unity the novelists have sought for various sources of inspiration and have invented diverse techniques, Even the rules of games have not been excluded, as George Meredith, in The Egoist, created the plot according to the moves on the chessboard (Liddell, A Treatise • • • , p. 85)* Especially in modem times novelists have often taken the patterns of some classic for their own plot pattern. The Odyssey. and also the works of Sophocles and Euripides are in this regard extremely popular. Again, there are nove lists who try to observe the principles of creation in nature and to imitate them. Those who succeed create works; closest to reality, resembling the truth to the greatest possible extent. The epic novelist at his best is among such "imitators." Moreover, the epic novelist tries to preserve proportion and balance in using action, character, and thought, as synthesizing principles by giving them as equal shares as possible. The modem novelist, on the con trary, prefers to use characters or sometimes even thought as the unifying principle of the plot. Prom this arises thq S. Crane, "The Concept of Plot and the Plot of Tom Jones," in Critics and Criticism, abridged ed. (Chicago: Phoenix Books, (the University of Chicago Press, 1957), p. 66. b 7 opinion that character rather than plot— or action— is all- important in the modem novel. The atmosphere of the novel varies with its subject matter and its theme. It fluctuates accordingly from classical serenity to wild romantic melancholy, from exotic extravagance to depressing vulgarism, from excessive exuberance to neutral indifference, or from indulgent com placency to dread apprehension. The tone varies as much as the atmosphere and quite appropriately so, because the novel has been defined as "a personal, a direct impression of life'* (James, p, 297), and there is a great freedom given to its writer. Thus there may be distinguished objective, subjective, ironic, cynical, pious, sceptical, scientific, humane, and other attitudes of the authors towards their works. The language is not necessarily elevated. It is chosen with the purpose in mind to create the image of life. Therefore it arrives at verisimilitude, but at the same time it can be very rich and complicated if the sub ject it portrays requires such an involvement and complex ity. The language also helps the atmosphere and tone of the novel. Prom the very beginning of the novel genre, the back ground was considered a truly important and original inno vation. It is still of the same importance, because life exists not only in human beings but also around them. Furthermore, the environment and social setting influence the life and development of men. Since a more nearly per fect system of communication and traffic, developed in modem times, makes it possible to acquaint readers and novelists with a broader, yet more precise, picture of the world, the demand for more accurate and true description of the environment grows. Also the social setting and the society have become more and more complex, A novelist whose ultimate aim is to present reality cannot ignore these facts. The study of the novel shows that even those artists who seemingly were preoccupied with the human soul were not able to exclude the social aspects from their novels. For instance, Dostoevsky's novels paint a picture of society as an organic and natural background out of which his individuals are bom with their metaphysical and moral problems. The "mass" society of our day presents even more difficulties. Irving Howe summarizes this prob lem in the following way: No social scientist has yet come up with a theory of mass society that is entirely satisfying; no nove list has quite captured its still amorphous symptoms— a peculiar blend of frenzy and sluggishness, amiabil ity and meanness.3^ 3^Irving Howe, "Mass Society and Post Modem Fiction," Approaches to the Novel« ed. Robert Scholes (San Francisco: Chandler Publishing Co., 1961), p, 276. The Epic Novel Out of the nature, the elements, and the techniques of the novel develop Its peculiar forms, that is, its multi plicity of forms and division into kinds. For the purpose of this dissertation it is necessary to describe and define only one of these forms, namely the epic novel. Since the epic novel is connected with two great genres of immense complexity and measureless ramifications, it is practically impossible to define it with thorough precision. What is aimed at in this dissertation is a working definition for the purposes of analyzing both War and Peace and Jean- Christophe. An epic novel, though "epic," still remains within the framework of the novelistic genre, and as such it "attempts to represent life" (James, p. 276). This pre supposes its realistic aspect. However, the adjective "epic" suggests various typical epic characteristics which are predominant in the epic prototypes of Homer and Vergil, and these characteristics determine its kind. The most typical epic traits of such a novel would be the following: 1. An effort on the part of the novelist at all- inclusiveness. This means an attempt to create a world complete and contained within itself. There is, moreover, an attempt to indicate the basic principles governing such a world. Thus, not only aspects, but laws of cosmic dimension have to be revealed. However, the epic super natural machinery does not always fit in the epic novel, because the narrative would tend to grow into a romance, or an utopian, or romantic novel. Therefore the supernatural often appears in some disguise, or is substituted, for Instance, by a fundamental moral or ethical code based upon religion or philosophy. The themes conform to the novelist1s great vision of life. They touch upon the most universal, the most significant problems of human nature and of the world, and are therefore truly serious. The characters, not necessarily greater than life, are significant enough to populate the author’s envisioned world. No doubt they are much more individualized in the epic novel than they were in the epic. History is used for the same purpose as in the epic, namely to enlarge the scope, to deepen the significance of the theme, to supply stature to the heroes, and to lend to the work national fla vor and value • It usually serves as an inspira tion to the author and provides the background against which the human drama is played. 5. The narrative is told from the omniscient author’s point of view. The atmosphere is serene, lei surely, and the tone objective. 6. The epic novelist, it is suggested, is a man of great erudition, a truly integrated personality, viewing his world ironically in the sense of Thomas Mann’s definition of epic irony (supra. P. 36). 7. The work itself is of tremendous scope, including a great number of characters as well as a profound vision of the world. 8. Finally, certain typical epic devices and tech niques, such as the epithet, the start in the "middle of things," the extended simile, the formula, can be used for structural as well as for ornamental purposes, providing the work with a typical epic flavor. However, the epic novel still retains certain indica tive novelistic genre tendencies: 1. The realistic aspect of the narrative and the language. 2. More individualized characters with the emphasis upon the psychological analysis. 3. A free plot construction. *+. Careful and detailed presentation of the back ground and the stress of the social environment. 52 5. An effort to present the historical facts correctly and precisely. 6. In the narrative construction a more conscious attempt to reduce pictorial -narrative elements by increasing the scenic-dramatic aspects. In summary, an epic novel is a long realistic prose narrative of tremendous scope, expressing the author’s vision of a unified world with as complete as possible a picture of man and society tinted with historical conscious ness and endowed with a philosophical system. The charac ters are lifelike, human, and not atypical. The atmosphere is leisurely; the pace not hurried. The tone— objective. The total effect tends to be an impression of life in its broadest and fullest sense. CHAPTER III L. N. TOLSTOY'S WAR AWL PEACE AS AN EPIC NOVEL In order to justify the classification of War and Peace as an epic novel it is necessary to discuss in greater detail both its epic and its novelistic elements in so far as they are typical and evaluate the results according to the definition previously suggested in this dissertation. Tolstoy's Affinities with Homer Tolstoy*8 opinion that his work resembled that of Homer is well known. He mentioned it in his sinoere but grandiose way. This statement has been often disoussed and commented on by Tolstoy's contemporaries and by later critics.^ A multiplicity of unknown causes, similarities in environment, and a variety of other reasons made the two great artists see the world in a similar way. Paraphrasing Tolstoy, one could say that they both expressed this view 1,1 According to Gorky, Tolstoy himself said of War and Peace: 'Without false modesty, it is like the Iliad.*" George Steiner, Tolstoy or Dostoevsky (New Yorks Alfred A. Knopf, 1959), p.”7TI 53 5 * f 2 in the form they were able to express. Dr, George Steiner summarizes the affinities between their points of view in the following manner: So much is pertinent: the archaic and pastoral setting; the poetry of war and agriculture; the primacy of the senses and of physical gesture; the luminous, all-reconciling background of the cycle of the year; the recognition that energy and aliveness are, of themselves, holy; the acceptance of a chain of being extending from brute matter to the stars and along which men have their appor tioned places; deepest of all, an essential sanity, a determination to follow what Coleridge called "the high road of life,” rather than those dark obligations, (Steiner, p. 75) Furthermore, Dr, Steiner finds in Tolstoy's novels and especially in his War and Peace a variety of other typical epic traits such as all-inclusiveness (p. 80); objectivity of the author; Inconclusiveness of the work which, making the narrative extremely lifelike, diminishes ! the barriers between reality and art (p. 115); a journey towards material and spiritual resurrection (p, 95), Per sons are circumscribed with a "totality of objects," with daily pursuits and the enveloping norms of habitual experi ence (p. 15*0. Also, such poetic and structural devices 2 "War and Peace is what the author wished and was able to express in the form in which it is expressed," Tolstoy, "Some Words about War and Peace," published in Russian Archive. 1868; reprinted in War and Peace. trans, by liouise and Sylmer Maude “(New York! The Heritage Press, 1938), p. 8V7. 55 as epic simile, stock epithet, and regarding c o n v e n t i o n . 3 An analysis of the structure of War and Peace confirms and illuminates even more these affinities betweep. Tolstoy and Homer and gives definite proof of the epic qualities I i of this novel• j Theme of War and Peace It has been generally maintained that the subject of Way and Peace is life, or the representation, or narration,j I, of life with an amazing completeness. j No English novelist is as great as Tolstoy— that is to say has given to so complete a picture of man's life, both on its domestic and heroic side.'* War and Peace is a dictionary of life, where one may look-.up any passion, any ambition, and find its meaning.” ^Here is meant the injection in the narrative of stories, letters, tales, and other materials. MThese motifs which in Goethe's words 'separate the action from its goal* were already recognized in Greek theory as being essentially epic" (Steiner, p. I*t8) . U. "In fact, we are forced in the end to make the apparently vapid judgment that the subject of War and Peace | is Life itself. Not life seen from a special angle, or | given a special interpretation, but just Life" (Clifton Fadiman, Foreword to War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy [New York:! Simon and Shuster, 19^, Inner Sanctum Edition], p. xxli). E. M. Forster, Aspects of the Novel (New Yorks | Harvest Books; Harcourt, Brace and Co., 195*0, p. 7. | I ^William Iyon Phelps, Essays on Russian Novelists (New Yorks The Macmillan Company, 1911), p. 197. I believe that Life is not only the subject of War_gnd Peace.it is its theme. Tolatoy selecte hie materials from life, more specifically from Russian life and the Franco- Russian War, to give artistic expression to his idea and to his view of what Life is. He presents^it in a multiplicity of forms, portrays its strength, its vigor, its joy, and its tragedy. He projects it into historical perspective and lets various characters search for its meaning and sig nificance. Prince Andrew, endowed with a considerable intellec tual power and capacity for analysis, searches for the meaning of life in a variety of activities which he per forms vigorously and conscientiously. He discovers that life for him has no meaning when it is not filled with love for other fellow men. After the death of his wife he is for a while not able to love and therefore feels himself old and unsatisfied with his existence. Only after he sees Natasha Rostova and overhears her conversation on the bal cony on a moonlit night is he infected by her intoxication with life, with love for the entire world. More signifi cantly, in his own heart there is sowed a tiny seed of love for her which is destined to develop into a tremendous growth and bear fruit much later. Thus Prince Andrew comes back to life. This metamorphosis of his soul is com pared with the change in the old oak which Prince Andrew 57 Bees on two occasions. First despite the beginnings of spring the old oak was deep in the sleep of winter, but on i coming back from the visit to Rostovs, Prince Andrew sees it "transfigured, spreading out a canopy of sappy dark-green foliage."^ Despite the fact that Andrew has lost taste for life, life is in no way influenced or changed. Its pulse is beating regularly and strongly, unaffected either by the individuals who are unable to participate in it fully, or by political projects and intrigues. Life meanwhile— real life, with its essential inter ests of health and sickness, toil and rest, and its intellectual interests in thought, sclenoe, poetry, music, love, friendship, hatred and passions— went on as usual, independently of and apart from political friendship and enmity with Napoleon Bonaparte and from all the sohemes of reconstruction. (I, 557-558) Much later, after great sufferings and when wounded, Prince Andrew is capable of experiencing the true love which does not require one particular object. It is bestowed by one who feels it upon all the fruits of God's creation. Such love is the liberated essential property of man's soul. Tolstoy Identifies it with the vital element in man, with the substance of life. "Yes— love," he thought again quite clearly. "But not love whioh loves for something, for some quality, ?Leo Tolstoy, War and Peace, trans. Louise and Aylmer Maude, new rev. ea. (itew forks The Heritage Press, 1938), I, 56*+. All the English quotations from War and Peace are taken from this text. 58 for some purpose, or for some reason, but the love which 1— while dying— first experienced when I saw my enemy and yet loved him. I experienced that feel ing of love which is the very essence of the soul and does not require an object. Now again I feel that bliss. (II, lf32) Unfortunately Prince Andrew experiences this wonderful feeling only shortly before his death, as if this kind of love does not belong in true, everyday existence over shadowed with daily tasks, trivial cares and vulgar conver sation. Therefore this love helps Prince Andrew face death calmly and without fear. When he came to himself after being wounded and the flower of eternal, unfettered love had instantly unfolded itself in his soul as if freed from the bondage of life that had restrained it, he no longer feared death and ceased to think about it. (II, 515) Love, experienced by Prince Andrew as the source of eternal Life, also as the ultimate cause of this life and the moving spring of the entire universe, resembles Dante's final statement in the Divine Comedy, where the author speaks of God as "l'amor che move il sole e 1'altre stelle." This seems to me to be the profoundest expression of the concept of Life by a character in War and Peace. Platon Karataev comes very close to it, or perhaps he actually experiences the same. The reader sees it from Karataev's acceptance of his life and his death. He goes to his death calmly and even cheerfully. Only one never hears Karataev discussing his experience in the same way as Prince Andrew does his. There is no description of Karataev's thoughts 59 and there is no self-analysis. Very little is known of the character's former life. Nevertheless, the reader is led to understand that it was full of deprivations and sacri fice. Obviously Karataev learned how to carry his burdens the hard way and was able to arrive at this present peace of mind after much hardship and self-discipline. No doubt his way was as difficult and as painful as that of Prince Andrew, but possibly it was shorter, because he comes from the peasant class, from the people. Owing to their sim plicity of life and closeness to nature, the poor people, maintains Tolstoy, sometimes possess much basic knowledge and wisdom. Therefore, Karataev's insight and acting are often instinctive and subconscious, though at the same time they are also based upon careful observation and practical experience• Princess Mary is another character who gains insight into the meaning of life, although not able to experience the ultimate revelation. Her insight is that of the heart; her knowledge— the knowledge of the faithful, humble soul. She does not arrive at it intellectually. Later as wife and mother, she cannot give her love equally, disinterest edly, and completely to the entire world. For this reason her knowledge is not full. A practical individual, having acquired her great wisdom through suffering, patience, goodness of heart, and womanly intuition, she practices her principles and grows more beautiful inwardly every day. At 60 the end of the novel the author says this of her: Countess Mary's soul always strove towards the infinite, the eternal and the absolute, and could, therefore, never be at peace. A stern expression of the lofty, sec ret-sufferings of a soul burdened by the body appeared on her face. (II, 781) i The reader is not told what is the origin and nature of Prince Kutuzov's knowledge of this secret of life; but there is no doubt that Kutuzov possesses it too. His way of knowing resembles more the way of Karataev than that of Prince Andrew. I By portraying several characters who are able to ! acquire the insight into the basic principles of the uni- j 1 verse and an understanding of the truth that God is Love j and Love is the primeval cause of everything, Tolstoy seems | to indicate that this knowledge is not a rare, isolated occurrence. In fact the Russian masses possessed this truth during the period described, or they would not have | reacted in the way they did. Regretfully, the higher society in its sophistication and artificiality lacks this awareness, but the best members of the aristocracy thirst , for it and make efforts to achieve it. In the light of such philosophy of life, evil, suffering, death, even his- torlcal determinism are in no way frightening. Although ! t man cannot always understand the meaning of some of these | t things, he should not be sad or disillusioned. It is inev itable that in his present state man cannot grasp all the 6l principles of the cosmic structure. If the unexpected occurrences or seemingly unjustifiable results In a person's I or a nation's life seem strange, Illogical, and undeserved, they are not and they cannot be void of meaning. Life itself, human experience, and history prove this. The entire Napoleonic Wars and their outcome In particular, Illustrate it. When one has experienced the true and highest degree of Love, one gains further and greater understanding of the causes, aims, and structure of the world itself. To develop! in oneself this love is one's duty* it is the basic objec tive of every human being. Obviously it cam. be done only in the stream of life. For this, if nothing else, human life is precious and should be considered such. Life is everything. Life is God. Everything changes and moves and that movement is God. And while there is life there is joy in consciousness of the divine. To love life is to love God. Harder and more blessed than all else is to love this life in one's sufferings, in innocent sufferings. (II* 632) These are the words which Pierre hears in his dream. Actually this is his own subconscious speaking to him. He is digesting, formulating, summarizing his own experiences. Pierre comes to,this knowledge through suffering and good will; by many an indirect winding road to truth. Although he does not say that God is Love, he pronounces Life as ultimately good and sound. "While there is life there is happiness. There is much, much before us. I say this to you" (II, 706), Pierre assures Natasha after they meet, having gone through ordeals and much suffering. Natasha, of course, with the natural primitive and perceptive force which dwells in her knows that what he says is true. The entire Rostov family consists of individuals full of the genuine, primeval impulses of life. Natasha lives by instinct and by impulse. She turns spontaneously and naturally like a plant towards the sun to her duty as a woman, which, according to the author, is to be a mother— to bear and nurse new lives. However, the living process would not be full without its other pole— death. Death is necessary in order to originate birth, to produce the rhythm of life, the pulsa tion of that which exists. God is in the midst, and each drop tries to expand so as to reflect Him to the greatest extent. And it grows, merges, disappears from the surface, sinks to the depth and again emerges. There, now, Karataev has spread out and disappeared. (II, 632) Pierre hears again the teacher’s voice in his dream of revelation. Death is accomplished not only through the gradual process of decay, but also through a certain destructive force which lives in the midst of life. The very same Natasha who is closest to the natural vital forces of life, during the hunt when the hare ,is caught by the dogs, suddenly and unexpectedly shrieks with unbeliev able ecstasy, joy, and excitement. 63 By that shriek ehe expressed what the others expressed by all talking at once, and It was so strange that she must herself have been ashamed of so wild a cry and everyone else would have been amazed at it at any other time, (I, 683”681 f) This paradoxically joyous instinct of destruction manifests Itself also In nations, forcing them to kill each other, "There it is , • . I£ again I" said Pierre to him self. • • . In the corporal's changed face, in the sound of his voice, in the stirring and deafening noise of the drums, he recognized that aysterlous, callous force which compelled people against their will to kill their fellow-men. . . . To fear or to try to escape that force, to address entreaties or exhortations to those who served as its tools, was useless. (II, 562) The force of destruction takes possession of some individ uals and nations and compels them to perform certain deeds of which they are ashamed when in control of their natural faculties. Curiously enough, through some unascertained circumstance, this violent potency is even hailed as patriotism; its results in certain cases may be labeled as history. Why and how it happens Tolstoy declares himself incapable of explaining. If the reasons are not known to men they remain unperceived for some very important cause. It is just one of the paradoxes of life. Tolstoy does not condemn it, as he does not condemn any struggle or striving to assert oneself. Tolstoy is not a passivist. He sees struggle and striving as a means of development, even as a stimulus of life and obviously disapproves of Sonya for her lack of ambition and strength to fight for her love. On 6*t the other hand, one is frightened by his portrayal of the cold and unfeeling Dolokhov who serves willingly the force of destruction and develops into a perverse, sadistic, and inhuman leader of the guerrilla war bands. Tolstoy's theme is to reveal life and its meaning. This purpose, pursued by the characters of the novel and by g the author himself many times with a Faustian passion, is novelistic and at the same time epic. To recreate life as it is, faithfully and sincerely, is the objective of a novelist, but to aim at the total sum of life and accomplish this task with such an amazing completeness lends to the work an epic aspect. The fate and life of the five families is shown in minute detail and in a novelistic fashion at its best. The impression is that of actual life. One could speak here about Tolstoy having perfected the theme of the novel in the same sense as Lascelles Abercrombie spoke of Milton having perfected the theme of the epic (supra, p. I1*-). On the other hand, the use of history, the supernatural, the description of natural background and the social setting, the atmosphere and the tone are constructed to a great extent in an epic manner to create a universe contained in g Wo fase ich dich, unendliche Natur? Euch Bruste, wo? Ihr Quellen allea Lebene, an denen Himmel und Srde hangt, . . . (Goethe. Faust. ed. Calvin Thomas [Boston: Heath and Co., 1909] Pari ±, p. 21 *). 65 itself, governed by its own laws. Such an achievement was defined as epic by Hegel who states that in a true epic the philosophy of life is organically unified with the concrete episodes of the political and domestic life of a nation.^ Unity of all these elements in this novel is effected primarily but not solely through the theme, because Tolstoy does not view the movement of the nations from the West to the East and back as an important political or historical event; he views it as a symbol of man's destiny. So War and Peaoe sums up the values of life and expresses at the same time its eternal rhythm, linking past and future. Scope War andxPeace is a novel of a tremendous scope which is constructed by a variety of devices. Of course, the supernatural cannot appear any more in a realistic novel directly or as myth. It appears, therefore— to use 9l>ie gesammte Weltanschauung und Objektivitat eines Volksgeistes in ihrer sich objektlvlerenden Gestalt als wlrkliches Begebnls vorubergefuhrt, macht deshalb den Inhalt und die form des eigentlich Epischen aus. Zu dieser Totalitat gehort einerseits das religiose Bewusztsein von alien Tiefen des Mensohengeistes. andererselts das konkrete Dasein, das politlsche und hausliche Leben. bis zu den Weisen, Bedurfnissen und Befriedlguungsmitteln der auszer- lichen Existenz hinunter; und dies alles belebt das Epos durch enges Verwachsensein mlt Indlviduen, da fur die Poesie) das Allgemeine und Substantielle nur in lebendiger Gegenwart 4es Gelstes vorhanden 1st. Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel, Asthetik (Berlin: Aufbau Verlag, 1955), pp. 9*+0-9^-l. Dr. Steiner’s term— as religious or philosophic mytholo gies They should serve to unify the artist’s world. However, Hr. Steiner perceives a dichotomy in Tolstoy’s religious beliefs which are transferred as "Weltanschauun- gen" into his novel. Although passionately involved throughout his entire life with the figure of Christ and the values of Christianity, Tolstoy often expresses pagan views, and his God is anthropomorphic (Steiner, pp. 265” 267). Dmitri Merejkovski said the same when he declared that Tolstoy's work lacks completeness because of the emphasis upon the body and the neglect of the spiritual aspects of man.^ Merejkovski mentions that Turgenev, who observed the same when the novel had been printed, wrote about it to the author. Turgenev considered War and Peace one of the greatest productions of world literature, but at the same time thought it "the most lamentable example of the absence of true knowledge" (Merejkovski, p. 22*+). Despite the emphasis upon the physical beauty and ^O*fy"fchologies are the shapes which we seek to impose, through will or desire or in the shadow of our fears, on the otherwise uncontrollable chaos of experience. These mythologies ("metaphysics," in Sartre’s vocabulary, Weitanschauungen in that of German criticism) can be of diverse orderst political, philosophic, psychological, economic, historical, or religious (Steiner, pp. 232-233)* HDmitri Merejkovski. Tolstoy as Man and Artist (New Yorks G. P. Putnams' Sons, The Knickerbocker Press, 1902), p. 22*+. 67 | the glorifying of the flesh, it does not seem to me that the novel lacks a spiritual element. It is not particular-! ized, however, and it is revealed but partially through the! characters, especially in their searching for the meaning of life. The spiritual element is revealed most signifi cantly through the philosophy which unifies the author*s entire artistic world, because neither the pagan nor the ; Christian point of view prevails. The two opposite ideas are neutralized and conjoined into one by the third belief,j j growing out of Tolstoy’s philosophy of history; or rather his theory of history emanates from the author's conviction! that life is an eternal rhythm, a pulsation of birth and death. Then the pagan and Christian views become ulti mately reconciled because they are transcended unto a i broader basis and serve as particles and stimuli, as views j and hopes in the all-embracing pattern of life. Ultimately Tolstoy sees not the Napoleonic and Russian Wars, but the peoples' movements from West to the East and from the East to the West periodically recurrent and expressing nothing else but the rhythmical pattern of life and eternity. This is not a systematic philosophy, but a "Weltanschauung"; and it is the basic "mythology" which underlies War and Peace. On the other hand the pagan and the Christian religi ous mythologies might prove a truly novelistic trait 68 because they show life as It was in the nineteenth century* They influenced and pervaded the thought, life, and educa tion of individuals making no exception of the author of War and Peace. Tolstoy*s theory of history and his unifying myth might seem to many much too new, subjective, personal. Similar remarks and criticisms were expressed about many writers of literary epics, starting with Vergil when he communicated to the world his subjective vision of the origin and destiny of Rome, In this regard it could be said that every poet has the right and even a duty not only to use but also to create myths. The true poet is a myth-maker and in his creative aspirations he cannot help being one. This was true from the very beginnings of Occidental literature as Hegel observes it on his treatise on the epic: , . . so 1st und bleibt das Kunstwerk, das solche Welt darstellt, doch das freie frodukt des Individuums. In dieser Rucksicht konnen wir noch einmal an den groszen Auspruch Herodot's erinnert werden: Homer und Hesigdus hatten den Grlechen ihre Gotter gemacht. (Hegel, Asthetik, p. 9^) Although the Greek-pagan point of view with its glori fication of the flesh influences Tolstoy*s characters and the general make-up of his artistic world, the Christian religion is the official creed of his personages. In most of them it is an "official'' creed with no or very little dichotomy between the belief and practice. As a rule the Christian tradition which surrounds the characters gives meaning to their lives. The practices of religious ritual are not artificial, sense attributes, but an intrinsic part of their lives. Princess Mary, despite the prohibition and ridicule from her father, receives secretly the "Gods- folk"— the pilgrims. There were many of them in Russia in those days seeking their salvation through pilgrimage to the holy places and through an ascetic way of life. Tolstoy describes in detail an interview of such "folk" with Pierre, Andrew, and Princess Mary. Pierre as usual shows interest and curiosity. He is ready to wait patiently and look for the revelation through them of the genuine truth no matter how small the opportunity or low the circumstances. He listens ‘ 'attentively and seriously" ; (I, 521), and his naivetrf amuses the skeptical Prince Andrew. Prince Andrew does not believe in great merits of revelation by such pilgrims. He sees their primitive dis position of mind and the emotional aspects of their reli gion. Some are sincere, some are not even that. Por awhile Prince Andrew assumes his habitual tone of irony and joking in this conversation. The ensuing dialogue proves that Prince Andrew's skepticism towards the pilgrims is justifiable, but the results cannot influence Pierre or change Princess Mary. Since both of them are people of "good will," they cannot accept in the first place 70 Prince Andrew's negative attitude and lack of seriousness and, therefore, both of them feel uneasy and unhappy. After a while Prince Andrew leaves them alone with the pil grims because, despite his skepticism and pride or some times negative attitude towards certain people and things, he is honest, refined, and subtle. The same situation, though in a more touching and delicate manner, is described in Prince Andrew's farewell scene when he leaves home for the war during the first Napoleonic Campaign. His sister is deadly serious and sincere, when holding up in both hands before him a small antique icon in gold setting, she says in a trembling voices TA-gainst your will He will save and have mercy on you, and bring you to Himself, for in Him alone is truth and peace." (I» 130) Her brother would have taken the icon, but she stopped him. Andrew understood, crossed himself and kissed the icon. There was a look of tender ness, for he was touched, but also a gleam of irony on his face. (I, 131) Another character who is truly religious is Marya Dmitrievna Akhrasimova. She does not allow her servants and personnel to work on Sunday and tries to spend the Sunday in a spiritual way, Marya Dmitrievna is not entirely the fruit of the author's imagination. She was a real person, well-known in Moscow. She was used in fiction 71 12 also by several other contemporary writers. Again, Natasha, after the unhappy incident with Anatole Kuragin, is able to come back to life through religion. She fasts and prepares for Holy Communion with a neighbor, Agrafena Ivanovna Belova despite the doctor's orders not to go out early in the morning (II, 75). Natasha receives the Sacrament with childlike innocence and devotion. She is purified and reborn to a new life. The religion of the masses is represented by the army which is blessed with the Icon of the Smolensk Mother of God. Kutuzov, to be sure, does not cut a smart figure at the ceremony. He is somewhat comical walking "with plung ing, swaying gait" (II, 221), and kissing the icon "as a child does with naively pouting lips" (II, 222), but no one pays any attention to this, because the ceremony is mean ingful to himself and to his soldiers. Despite the presence of the commander-in-chief, who attracted the attention of all the superior officers, the militiamen and soldiers continued their prayers without looking at him. (II, 222) The masses in the army are very serious and genuinely devoted. An entirely different attitude towards religion is shown at the last rites of the old Count Bezukhov, Pierre's ^Notes on War and Peace in the translation by Louise and Aylmer Maude, I, 1^9• 72 father, Anna Mikhaylovna, Boris* mother, and Prince Vasili reveal themselves as insincere, sophisticated characters, Tolstoy brings in a complexity of motives. In a subtle situation a mother and a father fight a battle for their children with the sole purpose of preserving their social position and assuring to them substantial income and conse quent luxury. The parents* lack of idealism and their low moral standards are going to develop even in a higher degree in these same children for whom they are fighting. Anna Mikhaylovna and Prince Vasili still preserve their aristocratic decorum at least outwardly, but Anna's son, Boris, pursues riches with the shrewdness and practicality of a petty bourgeois, and Prince Vasili's children have no inhibitions, seeking their sensual pleasures, Hdl&ne is the epitome and the symbol of the people of this kind. She contemplates a change of religion for the sole purpose of remarriage and at the same time imperturbably claims that she renders account only to God and to her conscience (II, 321) . In her view [says Tolstoy] the aim of every religion was merely to preserve certain proprieties while affording satisfaction to human desires. (II* 322) Society marvels and quietly approves, because these people are no better than she is. Only Marya Dmitrievna Akhrasimova reproaches her openly, but, of course, with no results. 73 i The double standard and the shameless display of such unnatural ideas and practices are certainly not epic traits# The negative passions such as revenge, pride, or haughti ness, even adultery do appear in the epic. They are part of the reality of life, but there is a genuine natural nobility in them, no sly smartness or subtle guile. The careful analysis of these passions and the examination of motives, the subtle portrayal of all the shades of meaning belong to the techniques of the novel. The Catholic and the Orthodox Churches in Tolstoy's novel seem to be institutionalized as the descriptions of the clergy reveal and confirm. The Jesuit priest is no better than H^lfcne or her friends (II, 323)» and the model letter revealing the empty "ecclesiastical patriotic elo quence" of the Orthodox Bishop shows the unfortunate super ficiality and naivetd of its author (II, *+5*+). Another aspect of the supernatural used by Tolstoy in his novel is pagan in its basis. Such, for instance, is the matter of omens. The belief in omens and dreams has been preserved among the people since the oldest times and appears in the guise of folklore, superstition, etc. On Christmas evening, Sonya and Natasha try to divine their future by looking into mirrors. Sonya suggests she saw Andrew in one. She says she saw him reclining (I, 716). The fact that not Natasha, whose betrothed Andrew 7*f la, but Sonya sees him, indicates something unusual, even tually something sad. Though quite vague, this omen is a foreshadowing and indicates the direction of the develop ment of the plot. Later when Prince Andrew is mortally wounded and lies in the bed, Sonya remembers having seen him exactly in this position. Just then, however, Tolstoy feels that this epic use of the omen is too much for a realistic novel. Thus he tries to explain this phenomenal— the girl's superstition— from the viewpoint of her peculiar psychological make-up. She had in fact seen nothing then but had men tioned the first thing that came into her head, but what she had invented then seemed to her now as real as any other recollection. She not only remembered what she had then said— that he turned to look at her and smiled and was covered with something red, but was firmly convinced that she had then seen and said that he was covered with a pink guilt and his eyes were closed. (II, ^8^) Another omen, that of thousands of crows rising above the walls of the Kremlin and circling in the air as if to greet the entering French to the Russian capital, is a bad sign. Crows, ravens, owls screeching at night, dogs bark ing at night in the distance are associated in the folk lores of many nations with a pending misfortune or disas ter. On the contrary, the comet of 1812 is a good omen. It is used also as a symbol or an image describing the development of Pierre's love for Natasha. Pierre notices 75 it for the first time after he tells Natasha that she is good and noble despite the fact that she broke her word to Prince Andrew (I, 810). It seemed to Pierre that this comet fully responded to what was passing in his own softened and uplifted soul. (I, 811) During the French occupation Pierre stays in Moscow, and again he sees "the bright comet which was connected in Pierre's heart with his love" (II, M-21). The very fact that the heavenly star is somehow mysteriously associated with his feelings shows that his love is perhaps decreed by the Higher Will and is an indication of its permanence and significance. The prophecy and foreshadowing are joined here with the principle of unification and the omen is a true link between heaven and earth. L. M. Mishkovsksya observes that the fog-"tuman" is used in a somewhat similar way before the battle of Austerlitz. Only it suggests com- 13 lng defeat, chaos, and the like. There occur some direct prophecies in the narrative, but they are rare and short. Such is Anna Pavlovna's "presentiment." She expects something very good, but is greatly disappointed when the news reaches her and her circle about the abandonment of the capital. 13l . M. Mishkovskaya, Masterstvo L.N. Tolstogo (Moskva* Sovetskii Pisatel, 1958), p. 139* 76 MYou will see," said Anna Pavlovna, "that to morrow on the Emperor's birthday, we shall receive news. I have a favourable presentiment 1" (ii, M-57) Princes Vasili, old Nicholas Bolkonskl, Kutuzov, and others, especially those among the older generation, like to prophesy too. Their prophecies are, as a rule, ful filled in direct proportion to the man's moral worth. If people are false and insincere, too subjective or too impulsive, there is small chance for their prophecies to be true, but Kutuzov, for Instance, is able to make his promise, "I'll make them eat horse-flesh!" (II, 197)» "They shall eat horse-flesh yet, like the Turks!" (II, 317) come true. The very existence of the prophecies in the novel sig nifies the characters* cosmic consciousness and helps to unify the entire artistic structure into a compact whole. As the omens are used in predominantly epic fashion, so the dreams are created by the method of a novelist. Their main end is to indicate the development of the char acters. There are five important dreams: Andrew's dream before his approaching death, two dreams of Pierre dealing with his spiritual development, Petya's half-awake half dream condition before the fatal battle in which he is killed, and Nikolenka's dream suggesting the lines along which he is going to develop. These dreams can hardly serve as foreshadowing devices 77 of the action. Prince Andrew's death occurs practically at the same time. His death and funeral are described in the next one and a half pages. The action in Pierre's dream is scant, because it consists of revelation concerned with his inner self, Petya hears but the music of the spheres and dies a few hours thereafter; Nikolenka's future remains untold• In the same way as Prince Andrew in his dream gains an insight into the basic principle of existence that "death is an awakening" (II, 519)« Pierre's dreams signify two crucial points in his development. The first major crisis appears during the Battle of Borodino. The dream occurs immediately after the battle. Then he suddenly starts noticing more merits in the common people than in the people of his own class. These peasants and soldiers know how to live better. And they are simple. They do not talk’ , but act. The spoken word is silver but the unspoken is golden. Man can be master of nothing while he fears death, but he who does not fear it possesses all. If there were no suffering man would not know his limitations, would not know himself. (II, 332) In the second dream he comes to his final, his ultimate "Weltanschauung"t Life is everything. Life is God. . . . And while there is life there is joy in consciousness of the divine. (I, 632) Both times Pierre feels that these thoughts are whispered to him or suggested in some way by his previous teachers— 78 the mason Bazdeev, the peasant Karataev, and the old teacher from Switzerland. All three are dead. Neverthe less they communicate mystically with Pierre. Again, the author unifies his world, connects the existence of his living men with that of another sphere, makes the super natural felt. Even more, he stresses this trait in Petya Rostov’s dream, just before the battle, when Petya hears a magnifi cent music aroused in his mind. Before that Petya looks "up at the sky. And the sky was a fairy realm like the earth" (II, 618). The dream reveals Petya’s great sensi tivity in which nearly all of his sensibility is drowned. Petya is too enthusiastic, too excited, too tender and idealistic, and too much in "the fairy kingdom" to be able to live in the world of harsh reality, especially during such a cruel war. The half-awake situation in which Petya conducts that enormous orchestra under the stars unveils his character completely, exposes his soul, pure, elemental and impractical, and the body simply cannot hold it any more. Tolstoy’s choice of material is greatly revealing with regard to its structure. The period between 1805 and 1820 including the Napoleonic wars was of tremendous signifi cance in Russian national life and in Europe as well. Russia came again for the first time since Peter the Great into close contact with Europe. It had the opportunity to prove its worth to itself and to the other civilized nations. These were times of personal and national strug gle, suffering, humiliation, valor, and pride. It was, moreover, the period of unimaginable opportunities for action, development, and enlightenment. Therefore this epoch impressed the people greatly and remained deeply embedded in their consciousness and memories. Tolstoy chose it, because, as he said himself, he liked the "national aspect" of it. Tak v "Anne Kareninoi" ya lublu misl semeynuyu, v "Voine i mire" lubil misl narodnuyu. When the first part of the novel was published many readers found the character of the period not sufficiently lh defined and told the author so. In answering them Tolstoy aaids I know what "the characteristics of the period" are that people do not find in my novel . . . but I do not think that these characteristics of the period as they exist in our imagination are correct, and I did not wish to reproduce them. (Tolstoy, "Some Words about • . . ," II, 8M-8) So the author of War and Peace does not find the horrors of savagery or suffering greater in this period than in any other. He sees life primarily and basically as the ll+Leo Tolstoy, "Some Words about War and Peace." published in Russian Archive. 1868, reprinted in War and Peace by Leo tolstoy, trans. by Louise and Aylmer Maude, new rev. ed. (New York: The Heritage Press, 1938)t Hi 8^7. 80 same, and the people loving, envying, seeking for truth and virtue, or tormented by passions. He sees the basic unchanging principles of life with unsurpassable clarity and conviction and upon these principles creates his own world. His attitude and the all-inclusiveness as well as the completeness of his work are typically epic. . . . der Dichter gestaltet die Geaohichte selbst: das Warden, Leben, Verge hen von menschlichen Gemeln- schaften, die Kraftespiels der Welt. Zwei grosze dichterische Leistungen dieser Art sind Tolstoy's "Krieg und Frieden" und Stifters "Witiko.”1? At the same time Tolstoy, the novelist, is interested in the particular and researches through books, memoirs, letters, traditions (Tolstoy, "Some Words about . . . ," IX, 8*f8) to depict the true and typical features of the time he portrays. One such trait, he finds, is the aliena tion of the upper social class from the other classes caused by the religious philosophy of the time; by peculiar ities of education; use of French language, and other fac tors (Tolstoy, "Some Words About . . . ," II, 8*f8) • This historic consciousness and the interest in the common man is a modem trait, and it separates Tolstoy from the antique, formal, literary tradition. The embedding of random persons and events in the general course of contemporary history, the fluid ^^Herbert Seidler, Pie Dichtung (Stuttgart: Alfred Kroner Verlag, 1959)» p. 131* 81 historical background— these, we believe, are the foundations of modern realism, and it is natural that the broad and elastic form of the novel should increasingly impose itself for a rendering compris ing so many elements.1^ The literature of antiquity could represent every-day life only in the low style, comically, or at best idyllically, statically, and historically (Auerbach, p, 29). The his toricity of things, the fact that they are determined by an era, was not in itself of interest to the authors or to the readers of antiquity (Auerbach, p. 28). Historical events, if mentioned, were described and characterized as a whole— as approving, disapproving, undecided, or perhaps tumultu ous— just as the observer saw them (Auerbach, p. 38). It did not occur to the writers that reactions and problems among the people should be made a major subject of litera ture (Auerbach, p. 38). Tolstoy was very much interested in history and aimed at being as accurate as possible. He studied memoirs and letters, historical treatises and sources, talked to the people, visited historical places (Mishkovskaya, p. 122). Tolstoy said himself that he tried scrupulously to repro duce the real actions anc* speeches of historical persons (Tolstoy, "Some Words about . . . ," p. 85*+). Even in the novel itself he mentions sometimes the work of an historian l^Erich Auerbach, Mimesis (New York: Doubleday Anchor Book, 1953)* P. and gives the name of his treatise. He weighs the evidence considers it critically and, if his ideas or findings are different, vigorously disagrees with the historian. On page 153 of Volume 21 of War and Peace Tolstoy quotes Thiers describing the Russian peasant Lavrushka who went unexpectedly with Napoleon. Lavrushka's reactions are described in detail, but the writer's conclusions do not convince Tolstoy. Quoting the author of the memoirs and indicating thus that Thiers* text is familiar to him, Tolstoy describes an entirely different attitude and analyzes the thoughts of Lavrushka. He interprets Lavrushka's reactions quite differently. Prom his knowl edge of the Russian peasants, Tolstoy argues convincingly that Lavrushka knew all the time who Napoleon was and cunningly feigned for his captors the moods they expected from him. He entertained them superbly and indeed out witted them in the end. Lavrushka's is not an isolated case. Tolstoy often questions and criticizes historical interpretations and presents his own views and opinions. U sozdanii celogo ryada obrosov Tolstoy bil sover- shenno nezavisim ot ocenok istorikov, memoiristov, i biografov; on 8 nimi polemiziroval i shol sobstvennoi dorogoi, hotya postoyanno polzovalsya fakticheskimi svoich istochnikov. (Mishkovskaya, p. 159) Whether Tolstoy's view is correct and his interpretations valid, no one can say yet with absolute sureness. Though it may be remarked that as a historian of war Tolstoy gave 83 proof of a remarkable insight. His reading of the battle of Borodino which he arrived at by sheer intuition has been proved by documents and now is accepted as correct by 17 specialists. Aristotle was of the opinion that the author's view of historical events, his explication of them 18 should be honored. Tolstoy was very serious about his tory and interested in it to such an extent that he was able to extract from it the universal laws upon which he based his theory. In a letter to Pogodin in March, 1868, he earnestly defended his theory of history: tty thoughts about the limits of freedom and independence are not a mere paradox that has occupied me in passing. These thoughts are the fruits of all the intellectual efforts of my life, and they are inseparable part of that philosophy which I have achieved, God alone knows, with what striving and suffering, and it has given me complete calm and happiness.^9 This philosophy, it has been observed by many, is a negative philosophy. It is unheroic, indeed, because man 17 'L. S. Mirsky, A History of Russian Literature, ed. Francis J. Whitfield (New York: Vintage Books, 1958), P. 273. 1 o °"The artistic representation of history is a more serious pursuit than the exact writing of history. For the art of letters goes to the heart of things, whereas the factual report merely collocates details," as quoted by Lion Feuchtwanger, "Notes on the Historical Novel," Books Abroad. XXII, No. b (19W, 3^5. l^Ernest Simmons, Leo Tolstoy (Boston: Little Brown and Co., 19^6), p. 273. 8>+ does not have free choice. Man lives consciously for himself, but is an unconscious instrument in the attainment of the his toric, universal aims of humanity. (II* 6) Again Tolstoy says* Man’s mind cannot grasp the causes of events in their completeness, but the desire to find those causes is implanted in man’s soul. (II* 525) Modem historians and history writers believe at least in the leaders' conscious and important role in the shaping of the destiny of man. Lion Feuchtwanger expresses well their view in the following statements One thing the serious writer of historical novels and the serious student of history have in commons both see history as a struggle of a tiny, enlightened, and responsible minority against the vasx, compact majority of the blind and irresponsible, who are guided merely by instinct. (Feuchtwanger, "Notes," p. 3*+6) Exactly such a view Tolstoy describes as a mere illusion and illustrates his convictions by the famous simile of the herd of animals where the biggest and fattest ram erro neously considers himself destined for a higher vocation, when actually he is being fattened for slaughter and food. If the will of every man were free, that is, if each man could act as he pleased, all history, says Tolstoy, would be a series of disconnected incidents (II, 82*0. This he cannot accept and concludes that, though a man is conscious of freedom and all man’s efforts, all his impulses to life are nothing else but the efforts to increase freedom (II, 85 826), his reason and observation teach him that he is sub ject to certain laws. Man's freedom is constantly thwarted and diminished by his relationship with the external world, with time, with the causes that lead him to action (II, 830). Man cannot be released from this relationship. Therefore, freedom and inevitability constitute and shape man's life (II, 837). To such principles of life in historical perspective Tolstoy arrives after careful and sincere observation, study, and analysis of the Russian, French, and European’ (in general) histories of the period from 1805 till 1820, which he portrays in his novel. History becomes to him a science with equally firm and consistent laws, similar to astronomy, which codifies and explains the laws of the heavenly bodies (II, 839). As the planets move and go along their own cycle of life ordered by definite laws, so humans move and live and go together through their unequiv ocal cycles of life within the boundaries of history. An individual is free only within its confines. Tolstoy's philosophy of history permeates his entire work, unifies it; emphasizes and strengthens the theme of his novel. Tolstoy's use of history in his work is only to a lesser degree (accuracy in description of places and names; making use of the source material) in conformity with the tradition of the novelistic genre. Most of the time his 86 attitude towards history is that of an epic writer. Since much of his philosophy of history is expressed in the omniscient author's basic narrative voice, Tolstoy has been accused of preaching and of harming the artistic structure of his great work. To be sure, voices defending Tolstoy in this regard are in the minority. Among them, Prince D. S. Mirsky excuses Tolstoy on these grounds; . . . to the vast canvas of the great novel the theoretical chapters add a perspective and an intellec tual atmosphere one cannot wish away. (p. 273) Generally speaking, the explanatory, philosophical, or theoretical passages in the novel are not new or undesirable. Henry Fielding, for instance, begem each of the eighteen books which constitute his Tom Jones with an introductory chapter which is an essay on literary criti cism concerning the form of the novel. As a rule such comments are short and are kept to a minimum. The "essays" of War and Peace. however, are not used entirely in this manner. In the first place, I believe, they are a modifi cation of the epic formula and serve the same purpose. Formula is used to give the reader the opportunity to relax by interrupting the narrative with a definite set of words. Moreover it sets the rhythm; it suggests the balance and proportion of the world created. Tolstoy basically and primarily uses his comments in the same way. His stories of five families, narration of action and events become 87 very complicated and if not interrupted might even he impossible to absorb. An average reader is overwhelmed by the intensiveness, brilliancy, and density of the narrative and the design. Tolstoy's comments start at the very beginning. All of them are taken from the author's great observation of life and express, as a rule, some general truth. They are by no means extraneous to War and Peace from the point of view of the contents or theme either. On the contrary they add, as Prince Mirsky observed, to the seriousness, also to the all-inclusiveness and development of the theme. At the beginning they are short and become longer and longer as the narrative proceeds and at the end Tolstoy has to add a second epilogue when he summarizes and expounds his philosophy of history. This second epilogue, because of its length and the techniques used, becomes a true essay. In the ancient and other folk epics, formulae varied but little; Tolstoy develops this technique into a new feature. His formulae are as varied as life itself. The first formula in War and Peace appears at the very beginning of the novel in the first chapter. It deals with the description of Princess Lisa Bolkonskaya. As is always the case with a thoroughly attractive woman, her defect— the shortness of her upper lip and her half-open mouth— seemed to be her own special and peculiar form of beauty. (I, 9) The next formula is a short one: "Influence in 88 society, however, is capital which has to he economized if it is to last" (I, 19). The formula introducing Book Thir teen starts with this often quoted passage: Man's mind cannot grasp the causes of events in their completeness, but the desire to find those causes is implanted in man's soul. (II, 525) The long passage explains history and relates certain his torical facts. Often Tolstoy attaches to his formulae the words, "As is known," "As generally happens," etc. For example: As generally happens, Pierre did not feel the full effects of the physical privation and strain he had suffered as a prisoner until after they were over. (II, 685) Or A healthy man usually thinks of, feels, and remem bers, Innumerable things simultaneously, but has the power and will to select one sequence of thoughts or events on which to fix his whole attention. . . . (II, *t30) In these formulary comments Tolstoy talks of practi cally everything and includes the aspects of life which he was not able to stress in the action or dialogue, yet which he feels unjustified in omitting. The main content of his formulae. however, is his theory of history. He is very consistent in giving his historical and philosophical ideas suitable expression as a part of the entire struc ture— not as inartistic in its effect as it may seem. Tolstoy's philosophy of history has been termed unheroic (Steiner, p. ^7). Since he does not recognize 89 that man*s free will is more capable of influencing his toric events than a free force can influence the moving of the heavenly bodies, he seems to exclude every free choice and heroic action. Nevertheless, Tolstoy also maintains that all man’s efforts are for the sole purpose of increas ing his freedom. Man constantly strives to assert himself, to make his will prevail to win his freedom, because it is a necessary condition for action, for development. A man having no freedom cannot be conceived of except as deprived of life. (II, 826) This is a significant and a meaningful paradox of life. Tolstoy sees the human situation as bound on one side to the cosmic d ^tiny, on the other side as obsessed with the desire to ac^t’t itself. This fundamental contradiction and mystery of -Lufe can only be stated, but not ultimately solved. Battles, struggles, even wars are comparatively inconsiderable but vital manifestations of this nystery. They cannot be dismissed from a novel the theme of which is Life. 20 The dealing with wars and battles is an epic trait. 20Hegel. Asthetik. p. 95*+: "Am lebendigsten jedoch und gemaszesxen wird lmmer die Darstellung eines w irk lie hen Krieges, wie wir ihn bereits in Ramayana, am reiohsten in der Iliade, sodann ater such bei Ossian, in Tassos und Ariostoswie in Camoens beruhmten Gedichten finden. Im Kriege namlich bleibt die Tapferkeit das Hauptinteresse, und die Tapferkeit ist ein Seelzustand und eine Tatigkeit, die sich weder fur den lyrischen Ausdruck noch fur das dramatische HandeIn, sondem vorzugsweise fur die epische Schilderung eignet’ 1 90 Typically epic are the wars between the foreign nations; conflicts between families, civil wars, skirmishes axe more: suitable for a dramatic situation (Hegel, pp. 95^-955). Aristotle recommended to the tragedians to choose the materials from combats and conflicts which involve brothers (Poetics. Ch. XXV). Aside from that, as an epic trait is recognized the "universal-historische Berichtigung namllch, i welche ein Volk gegen das andere antreibt" (Hegel, p. 955). In Tolstoy's novel this comes out particularly well in the Russian belief that they are fighting for their Orthodox, God-given and approved way of life. They believe them selves saving their own country from an "Anti-christ" (II, i 83). Napoleon's ideas (Tolstoy tries to consider the other! side of the picture— novelistic feature I) do not prevail because he is the invader, breaks his word to the Tsar, is ; extremely vain and selfish. His plan of a united Europe is short-sighted, because intolerant. No one is justified in forcing his rule upon so many peoples without consider ing their long traditions, customs, beliefs. Unification might be achieved by mutual, brotherly love and agreement. Thus in a way two ideas— the idea of a Europe unified by force under Emperor Napoleon and the idea of individual free national states, or ultimately tyranny versus freedom,, are confronted. The more just idea wins out. To fulfill this mission or duty the entire nation 91 joins the war against the French: A sacristan commanded one party which captured several hundred prisoners In the course of a month; and there was Vasilisa, the wife of a village elder, who slew hundreds of the French. (H> 593) To be sure Tolstoy, the novelist, cannot neglect the other side of the medal, the baffling undercurrents in the life of Russian people. He presents the case of the Bogucharovo peasants who rebel against Princess Mary in hope of gaining more freedom and a better life under Napoleon; but this is an isolated case. On the whole the entire Russia— the masses— become a heroic character. Owing to this A. A. Saburov in his article, "Voina i mir naciohalno- geroicheskaya epopeya" analyzes the scenes of national battles scenes, finds them numerous and prominent, and classifies War and Peace as a national heroic epic: MVoina i mirM v celom yavlaetsya nacionalno- gerolcheskoi epopeyi, poskolku volnskaya geroika vichodit za predeli odnlch lizh narodnich seen, a vse istoricheskoe povestvovanle v celom vedetsa v plana shirokogo nacionalnogo ochvata.21 The main characters also display at times truly heroic attitudes. Andrew seizes the standard and runs forward in one of the decisive moments at Austerlitz (i, 365); Nicholas Rostov displays his courage and heroism in several, instances during battles and combats and is rewarded by a 21 In Tvorchestvo L. N. Tolatogo. sbomlk state!, (Moskva; Sosudarstvennoe yzdatelstvo Hudozhestvennoi Literaturi, 1959)? P* 131* 92 St. George Cross (II, 70); Pierre saves a little girl (II, *+37) and an Armenian woman from a French soldier (II, Wf) and is captured for this deed; Natasha insists on taking the wounded soldiers and sacrifices the family furniture and clothes (II, 357). Only among the historical person ages are there no truly heroic figures, except Prince Bagration, of course (I, 236). Dr. G. Steiner summarizes veiy well the heroic spirit of War and Peace when he says: And if we consider the War and Peace as being, in a genuine sense, a heroic epic it is because in it, as in The Iliad, war is portrayed in its glitter and joyous ferocity as well as in its pathos. No measure of Tolstoy's pacifism can negate the ecstasy which young Rostov experiences as he charges down on the French stragglers, (p. 80) Very close to Homer are the realistic descriptions of war and the battles. The wounded are described with accuracy and particularity. Like Homer, Tolstoy does not avoid either the tragic or the sublime. One with a bleeding head had no cap and was being dragged along by two soldiers who supported him under the arms. There was a gurgle in his throat and he was spitting blood. A bullet had evidently hit him in the throat or mouth. Another was walking sturdily by himself but without his musket, groaning along and swinging his arm which had just been hurt, while blood from it was streaming over his great-coat as from a bottle. (I, 233) The last line is truly Homeric, but Tolstoy, the novelist, adds: He had that moment been wounded and his face showed fear rather than suffering. (I, 233) The last sentence goes into the description of motives of 93 action, or of the cause for the wounded men's reactions and feelings. What applies to men applies also to horses: • . . was an unharnessed horse with a broken leg, that lay screaming piteously beside the harnessed horses. Blood was gushing from its leg as from a spring. (I, 2*+8) The description of war is done with calm objectivity and impartiality. Such tone is associated with the art of Homer. Homer described his battles realistically, even 22 with gusto. So he described the other aspects of life as well; but it is difficult to say what was Homer's opinion with regard to war. Undoubtedly he sees its sad side and tragedy, too (Kitto, p. 59)* But his heroes do nothing to prevent war. Their first interest is the achievement of personal fame and striving after aretft— excellence• Vergil is in this regard different. When war is begun by the Latins, Aeneas conducts it in the spirit which Cicero advocates, "that nothing should be sought but peace"— when the truce is broken, his chief thought is to have it restored. He tries to avert a general slaughter and offers to settle the issue by a single combat between himself and Tumus. ^ Owing to the development of weapons and of man's sad expe riences, war is no more surrounded by a halo of heroism 22H. d. F. Kitto, The Greeks (Baltimore: Penguin Books, 1957), p. 59. 23C. M. Bowra, From Virgil to Milton (London: The Macmillan & Co., 19^5), p. 6h-. and glory. It became an evil to be avoided if possible. If there is no alternative it must be fought in a spirit of chivalry and clemency (Bowra, From Virgil to Milton, p. 65). Tolstoy’s personal opinion in the matter of war is quite similar to Vergil’s, but he goes farther. He asks himself the question: what makes man fight? what makes him kill? "What is the power that moves the people?" (II* 799) "What force moves the nations?" (II, 800). The same questions are pondered upon by the characters. The most valiant of them, Nicholas Rostov, thinks after the exploit which had gained him the St. George's Cross and even given him a reputation for bravery: So that's all there is in what is called heroism! And did I do it for my country's sake? And how was he to blame, with his dimple and blue eyes? And how frightened he was! He thought that I would kill him? Why should I kill him? My hand trembled. (II, 70) Tolstoy’s attempt to see the causes and motives for action at every turn, the psychological analysis lends to the theme of war the flavor of the novel. One is reminded of Henry James who said to the novelist: "Remember that your first duty is to be as complete as possible— to make a pif perfect work." 2**The Art of Fiction" in Approaches to the Novel. Robert Scholes (San Francisco: Chandler Publishing Co., 1961), p. 312. 95 Tolstoy’s men and events are not shown in isolation. They are set against the complex and realistic background. This background does not consist of long descriptions, but is built up by a variety of other techniques, reducing the descriptions of nature and environment to practically 25 nothing. Such a technique is typical of the epic poet. Nevertheless nothing is left in darkness or in mystery. The entire debign spreads out horizontally, populating an immense space. It is a monumental, broad structure which might have some shadows but no deep rifts or caverns. The space element is prominent in War and Peace. "Space is the Lord of War and Peace." said E. M. Forster (Aspects of the Novel, p. 39). Despite this spatial element no long and elaborate descriptions of the natural background are found. If the location is mentioned, however, the author gives the pre cise topography of the places, including names and situa tion of the location described. From Gorki, Bennigsen descended the high road to the bridge which, when they looked at it from the ^Selbst im Nibelungenliede ist es nicht anders; wir horen zwar von Worms, dem Rhein der Donau; doch auch hier fcleibt es belm Unbestimmten und Kahlen stehen (Hegel, Asthetik, p. 26^; . . . we must be somewhere on Trojan territory, but where? Homer is not sufficiently interested to tell us. Nor does he give us that background which a modem writer could hardly omit . . . (Kitto, p. 53). 96 hill, the officer had pointed out as being the centre of our position and where rows of fragrant new-mown hay lay by the riverside. (II* 226) Generally the background is described, as the quoted passage partly Indicates, through the eyes of a character or connected with the action, or the movement. It becomes dynamic, full of life. Tolstoy uses the same principle which Lessing praised in Homer illustrating it by Homer’s 26 narration of Achilles’ shield or Agamemnon arming himself. In Tolstoy even the natural background is extremely vivid, alive; the quietude vibrating with life. The only motion in the air was that of the drip ping, microscopic particles of drizzling mist. The bare twigs in the garden were hung with transparent drops which fell on the freshly fallen leaves. The earth in the kitchen garden looked wet and black and glistened like poppy-seed and at a short distance merged into the dull, moist veil of mist. Nicholas went out into the wet and muddy porch. There was a smell of decaying leaves and of dog. (I, 665) The words, "motion," "dripping-drizzling mist," or the "transparent drops" falling on the freshly fallen leaves, the "glistening ground," Nicholas coming in, the smell of the leaves and the dog describe the situation completely and in a live fashion. The epic writer likes to include the natural back ground in the epic simile. There are many epic similes in 26 Gotthold Ephraim Lessing, Gesammelte Werke (Berlin: Aufbau Verlag, 1955), Funfter Band, S. 118 und S. 13^-. War and Peace. I have counted forty-seven. Not all of them are taken from nature. Some are taken from social life, domestic arts, science, Industry, and other aspects of life. Such practice shows that the society described is not an entirely agricultural society. The human body in Tolstoy’s work is compared to a machine (II, 251), the army with the clock (I, 335), the war to the play of chess (II, 151). The comparisons taken from nature are numerous and precise. Interesting and quite illustrative of the tech nique is the simile of the consciousness in the army which is spreading like the water in the creek, flowing "rapidly, imperceptibly, and irrespressibly" (I, 355). Frequently concrete observations are used to illustrate an abstract idea, or a universal law, or the author’s philosophy: As the sun and each atom of ether is a sphere complete in itself, and yet at the same time only a part of a whole too immense for man to comprehend, so each individual has within himself his own aims and yet has them to serve a general purpose incom prehensible to man. (II, 733) Tolstoy uses also the "winged insects" similes popular in the literary epic. Vergil used ants and bees, Milton, little winged devils. Tolstoy uses ants (II, 69*0, and bees he uses twice. The first simile of the bees is asso ciated as in Vergil’s Aeneid with the city. The forsaken Moscow is compared with a queenless hive in which all the potencies of life are damaged, though to a superficial glance it seems as much alive as other cities. Every little 98 detail is stressed and is important in visualizing the abandoned city. . . . There are no longer sentinels sounding the alarm with their abdomens raised, and ready to die in defence of the hive. There is no longer the measured quiet sound of the throbbing activity, like the sound of boiling water, but diverse discordant sounds of disorder. In ana out of the hive long black robber- bees smeared with honey fly timidly and shiftily. The^ do not sting, but crawl away from danger. (II, Further a beekeeper is described opening various compart ments of the hive and viewing the situation. He watches the fate of various classes of bees. In third place a crowd of bees, crushing one another, attack some victim and fight and smother it, and the victim, enfeebled and killed, drops from above slowly and lightly as a feather, among the heap of corpses. (II, 37*0 The simile continues for two long pages, and the reader is absorbed entirely in the bee-hive situation when Tolstoy says: So in the same way Moscow was empty when Napoleon weary, uneasy, and morose, paced up and down in front of the Kammer-Kolezski rampart. (II, 37*0 The simile is used in an epic way; it serves for illuminating and explaining the situation and for the pur poses of foreshadowing. Homer uses the deer invading the 27 lion’s den just for the same objective. 27imagine a deer in the jungle, which has laid her suckling fawns just bom to sleep in the den of a strong lion, while she goes over the hillocks and into the grassy dells to seek for food; then the lion comes back to his 99 Another simile of the bee is connected with Tolstoy's theory of history and the basic philosophy of his book: A bee settling on a flower has stung a child. And the child is afraid of bees and declares that bees exist to sting people. A poet admires the bee suok- ing from the chalice of the flower and says it exists to suck the fragrance of flowers. A bee-keeper, seeing the bee collect pollen from flowers and carry it to the hive, says that it exists to gather honey. Another bee-keeper who has studied the life of the hive more closely, says that the bee gathers pollen- dust to feed the young bees and rear a queen, and that it exists to perpetuate its race. A botanist notices that the bee flying with the pollen of a male flower to a pistil fertilizes the latter, and sees in this the purpose of the bee's existence. Another, observing the migration of plants, notices that the bee helps in this work, and may say that in this lies the purpose of the bee. But the ultimate pur pose of the bee is not exhausted by the first, the second, or any of the processes the human mind can discern. The higher the human intellect rises in the discovery of these purposes, the more obvious it becomes that the ultimate purpose is beyond our comprehension. All that is accessible to man is the relation of the life of the bee to other manifestations of life. And sc) it is with the purpose of historic characters and nations. (II, 733) It is obvious that this simile, though an epic simile, is a modified one and issued differently. First, it is constructed in a rhetorical way by means of enumeration and analysis. Secondly, it serves as an illustration of a law which cannot be proved in the narrative itself and remains speculative even when illuminated by concrete images. lair, and deals death on the lot of them, dam and fawns, and tears them to piecesi So Odysseus will deal death on these and tear them to pieces (The Odyssey, p. 51). 100 Consequently Its ultimate significance is only partly to illustrate; the other purposes being to ornament or to adorn, to lend the work an historical and an intellectual flavor. Besides, Dr. G. Steiner notices that Tolstoy uses epic similes as commentaries on the false "society" of the city as juxtaposed to the "good," sincere people in the country. Dr. Steiner illustrates his idea by a simile which compares the members of the English Club awaiting Prince Bagration with rye shaken together in a shovel (I, 405). Dr. Steiner says that this simile acts in three ways: it gives the movement of the guests; it stimulates alertness and shocks the imagination, because the simile is taken from an entirely different area of experience. At the same time it "conveys a subtle, but lucid commentary on the values of the entire episode." The commentary, of course, implies that the elegant members of the club are something auto matic, similar to one another like the rye grains. People without individuality, they lead false lives in a false society far away from nature, from its simple unaffected ways. The rousseauistic idea of nature as mother and nurse, as stimulant and life-preserving factor is evident through the entire novel. The best, positive characters live in the country, in natural surroundings. While in the city, 101 they meet with falsity, hypocrisy, sham, immorality, deceit. Natasha lives through such disappointment and suffering. The attitude of the society people is skill fully portrayed in the higher officers' and the courtiers' contempt of Kutuzov. The ridicule and contempt were of course expressed in a respectful form, making it impossible for him to ask wherein he was to blame. They did not talk seriously to him; when reporting to him, or asking for his sanction they appeared to be fulfilling a regrettable formality, but they winked behind his back and tried to mislead him at every turn. (II, 679) Such double-dealing would be unthinkable to those who are close to the soil and are simple. Of course, the country people are also plagued by passions and drives, but these passions are natural and elemental; they are impulses of life. Therefore at the end of the novel we see Pierre and his family, as well as Nicholas and Princess Mary, going to live in the country, whereas such characters as H^l&ne, Prince Vasili, and their like never leave the city. Tolstoy acknowledged the influence of Rousseau upon himself in various letters and notes, and mentioned once that he read all of the twenty volumes of Rousseau's writ ings including the Dictionary of Music. He adored Rousseau and at the age of fifteen wore around his neck a medallion 28 with the great Frenchman's portrait. p Q George Rapall Noyes, Tolstoy (London: John Murray, 1919), P. 17. The influence of Rousseau is also evident in the reflection of characters* moods in some natural phenomena. The old oak which at first is hesitating to sprout in the spring resembles Prince Andrew's thoughts and feelings. Prince Andrew does not want "to begin anything anew" (I, 560). After a while the old oak is covered with leaves and looks transfigured. So is Prince Andrew. After his visit to the Rostovs he is again full of life and new hopes for the future (I, 56*0. Pierre's love for Natasha is con stantly associated with the comet (I, 811; II, *f21), and the vision of the sky suggests an important change in the character's mind. Prince Andrew notices the broad starry sky above himself in the field of Austerlitz (I, 379), as do Petya before his death (II, 619), and Natasha on the balcony where Prince Andrew overhears her (I, 56^). The origin of the association of characters' moods with natural phenomena could eventually be traced to the X famous scene in the Aeneid (Book IV) where Aeneas and Dido, when hunting, hide in the cave during the storm, which suggests passion. Nevertheless the question of "back to nature" and a dichotomy between the rural and the urban life is unthinkable in the epic. The epic world is in this regard undivided. The idealization of the rural life is a modern trait and frequently associated with the novel, because it poses social problems of which the novelist is 103 extremely conscious. The social setting of War and Peace is rich and splendid. To present it, Tolstoy unhesitatingly uses his own time conventions and customs. Certainly the times he describes are not far away, and since he selects usually the most typical, the unchangeable, he can validly do this. Dmitri Merejkovski observes that in reading War and Peace one can hardly overcome the astonishing impression that all the events depicted despite the historical guise and the true historical names, are taking place in one’s own time (pp. 190-191). The author's sister-in-law, Tatyana Kuzminskaya confirms this and tells the reactions of Tolstoy's contemporaries when the first part of the book was read to them. In a letter to Polivanov she writes* How lovely the beginning of this novel is. How many characters I recognize in it. The description of the evening party at Anna Pavlovna Sherer's was extremely well received. His humorous, mocking com parison of Anna Pavlovna, as hostess, with a super vision of a weaver's workroomJ is especially amus ing; when you read the novel look for this.2? 30 Undoubtedly the situation portrayed in this epic simile ^Tatyana A. Kuzminskaya, Tolstoy as I Knew Him (New York* 19*+8), p. 291. # In the final version Tolstoy uses the "spinning mill" not the "weaver's workroom" as T. A. Kuzminskaya suggests in her memoirs. 3°a. the foreman of a spinning mill when he has set the hands to work, goes round and notices here a spindle that has stopped or there one that creaks or makes more lOh was familiar to the people of Tolstoy’s own time, but, since it is presented with such concreteness it is vivid and enjoyable even to a modem reader. Tho simile tries to convey not so much the activities as the spirit of busi ness, the mood and the atmosphere of the salon. Here the recommendations are sought, the matches planned, the gossip exchanged, the political situation appraised. Everybody is supposed to fall in line with the conventional views, or those expressed in the circles of the empress’ court where Anna Pavlovna is the maid of honor and a favorite. Anna Sherer is an ideal hostess. To be an enthusiast had become her social vocation and, sometimes even when she did not feel like it, she became enthusiastic in order not to disappoint the expectations of those who knew her. (I, 5) Having disciplined herself to putting on a mask and hiding her true feelings, she is in the majority of cases able to control and guide those who are not yet so accomplished; but she cannot stop Pierre from telling his opinion which is directly opposed to that of the main guest. Pierre's conduct, shocks some, amuses Prince Andrew, leaves others unimpressed. The usual procedure and the functioning of noise than it should, and hastens to check the machine or set in proper motion, so Anna Pavlovan moved about her drawing-room, approaching now a silent, now a too noisy group, and by a word or slight rearrangement kept the con versational machine in steady, proper, and regular motion (I, 11-12) 105 the salon are illustrated in this example: After the prominent guest tells his anecdote about Napoleon: "Charming!" said Anna Pavlovna with an inquiring glance at the little princess. "Charming!" whispered the little princess, stick ing the needle into her work as if to testify that the interest and fascination of the story prevented her from going on with it. (I, 15) The affectation, superficiality, and frivolity of the little princess is portrayed further by this episode. "Andr^," said his wife, addressing her husband in the same coquettish manner in which she spoke to other men. (I, 17) Is the author criticizing or possibly writing a satire on the society? Evidently Tolstoy does not approve of their way of life. He tells about that later in many of his other writings, but in War and Peace he does not say it explicitly and definitely. His main objective is to show the true life, life as it is. Nevertheless, he selects certain details and shades in order subtly to imply the motives and schemes of the characters and to show all the complexity, even falsity, of the social life. He deals with the situation in the manner of a psychologist and gives the work a truly novellstic aspect. The basic plan for the social setting remains epic, making full use of the specific details which are so popu lar in heroic poetry. Tolstoy reconstructs such details in his epic novel. Thus there is an extensive use of descriptions of arrivals, departures, messengers with news, 106 decorations of the heroes, exchanging of gifts, etc. Even at the very beginning, at the soiree, Tolstoy does not neglect to indicate the arrival of an important guest. Thus Prince Andrew and Pierre are singled out. Departures are described in detail as well; Prince Hippolyte and Princess Bolkonskaya play prominent roles. The following are additional examples of these devices: Name-day congratulants arrive at Rostovs" (I, *+2); Prince Andrew leaves to join the army (I, 127); Prince Andrew is sent with dispatches to the Austrian court and received by the Emperor (I, 205); Tushin is called to account by Bagration (I, 2**7); Prince Vasili and Anatole visit Prince Nicholas Balkonski (I, 281); Emperor Alexander views the army at Schon- Grabern (I, 320); Boris visits Prince Andrew at Olmutz (I, 323)i Bagration and Dolgorukov visit the army (I, 3 W ; Nicholas Rostov comes home on leave (I, 389); Andrew arrives home (I, ^25); Pierre visits his estates in Kiev (I, 500); Pierre visits Prince Andrew (I, 515); "God*s-folk" arrive at Bald Hills (I, 517); Nicholas goes to the hospital to see Denisov (I, 533); --and to Tilsit to visit Boris (I, 5*+2); 107 Lazarev ie presented the Legion of Honour by Napoleon (I, 5*+8); Andrew visits the Rostovs at Otradnoe (I, 559)» Bitski calls on Prince Andrew (I, 6l6); Prince Andrew calls on Rostov (I, 620); Nicholas returns on leave (I, 660); Mummers visit the Rostovs and together with them call on neighbors (I, 705); Count Rostov and Natasha call on Prince N. Bolkonski (I, 751); Hdlfcne's call at the Rostovs (I, 771); Balashev arrives with the news that Napoleon has crossed the Niemen (II, l*t); Balashev arrives at Napoleon's (II, 23); Andrew comes to Bald Hills (II, 36); Alpatych is sent on mission to Smolensk (II, 129); The priest's wife greets Kutuzov offering him bread and salt (II, 195); DeBeausset brings a portrait of the "King of Rome” to Napoleon Til, 2*+0); Nicholas is sent to Voronezh to buy provisions. Pays a visit at the governor's (II, W O ; Princess Mary arrives at Rostov's in Yaroslavl (II, 507); Petya sent to deliver the general's dispatch to Denisov (II, 598). This catalogue is cited to illustrate the multiplicity and variety of just one device. Indeed, it lends the novel the epic flavor, but, if one takes only one of the cited instances and analyzes it, one is convinced of its novelis- tic aspects. Tolstoy does not paint the event with "big, solid strokes," but goes into minute details, charges it with atmosphere and precise psychological insight into each situation. Nicholas is arriving home. He gets more and more impatient the nearer he comes to Moscow. The reader follows step by step the character's anxiety, because the author reveals Nicholas' thoughts and injects the reader with his feelings. Then comes the entrance into the house, the hospitable atmosphere of it, the servants, the members of the family and their joy. Finally, the climax is described in the greeting scene with the mother. The next morning the scenes, when Nicholas is getting up and Natasha visits him to have a chat, are anti-climactic. The entire episode is built in a dramatic fashion and is endowed with its own plot. The arrivals and departures are surrounded with a multiplicity of details, carefully selected and unique, which makes every single event memorable and distinguished. Also there are included the getting up and dressing scenes, even morning prayers, traditional customs at parting, when the entire family just before leaving sits in a silent meditation. Even a disguising scene is not lacking. The mummers come to Rostov's house on the first day of Christmas. The younger members of the Rostov household 109 dress up and join them (I, 705). The costumes and the dressing up Is described with great care. The Incident is used to advance the plot, and also for purposes of charac terization. This episode breathes an atmosphere of folk lore, popular beliefs, traditions, and superstitions. The most memorable dressing-up scene is perhaps that of Princess Maiy being attired before her meeting with Anatole Kuragin. The little Princess Lisa, Andrewfs wife and Mademoiselle Bourienne quite sincerely tried to make her look pretty. She was so plain that neither of them could think of her as a rival. (I, 286) The details of the coiffure, the color of ribbon and dress are given. Princess Mary in her despair is a direct con trast to the ladies who try to help with deepest conviction that ’ ’dress can make a face pretty" (I, 286). Defeated in their purpose, they quietly withdraw, leaving Princess Mary alone with the knowledge that she is extremely plain. Mixed feelings of unhappiness, longing, hope, and forebod ing tear her soul into pieces while around there is silence, peace, and pensive flickering of the icon-lights. This quietude in environment is the calm before a storm which soon comes into the climactic scene of the episode when old Prince Bolkonsky appears at the dinner and thunders at poor Princess Mary, sending her away (I, 293)* An entirely different dressing up scene is described in the Rostov 110 family's preparations for the grand ball in St. Petersburg (I,*60lf-605). Not that accounts of entertainments, feasts, suppers, formal and family dinners, lunches, teas, or breakfasts would be lacking in War and Peace 1 The book starts with a soiree and ends with a family supper on Nicholas* estate. Typical of this kind of description is the author*s por trayal of a name-day party at Rostovs*, complete with a dinner, singing, and a house ball during which the old count dances with Marya Dmitrievna, the "Daniel Cooper" (I, 79). Parallel to this, yet different in many ways, is the dinner and dancing at the "Uncle's" estate after the hunt. Here Natasha dances in a truly Russian manner with the old host (I, 690). An entirely different picture pre sents itself at H^l&ne's name-day party (I, 263-280) where everything is artificial and insincere, full of boredom, lacking vigor and sense of life. The aristocrats of War and Peace have hearty appetites remindful of those of the epic heroes. The menu of the English Club dinner is discussed in some detail. The count walked up and down the hall in his dressing-gown, giving orders to the club steward and to the famous Feoktist, the Club's head cook, about asparagus, fresh cucumbers, strawberries, veal, and fish for this dinner. "Well then, mind and have cock's combs in the turtle soup, you know!" "Shall we have three cold dishes then?" asked the cook. The count considered. "We can't have less— yes three-- Ill "Then am I to order those large sterlets?" asked the steward. "Yes It can’t be helped if they won’t take less. (I, 399) Equally elaborate and generous is the food-1ist of the "Uncle’s" (I, 399) dinner, though food here is from the country prepared by Anisya Feodorovna in the Russian manner. On the tray was a bottle of herb wine, different kinds of vodka, pickled mushrooms, rye-cakes made with buttermilk, honey in the comb, still mead and sparkling mead, apples, nuts (raw and roasted), and nut-and-honey sweets. Afterwards she brought a freshly roasted chicken, ham, preserves made with honey, and preserves made with sugar. (I, 687) Again, different is the evening party at the Bergs* (I, 623). The egotism of the hosts, their bourgeois ideals, their greatest efforts to conform and imitate lend to their fete an undefinably mean aspect, though not mean enough to be epic, because it is so ordinary; and at moments, owing to the self-consciousness and the compla cency of the Bergs, the atmosphere and conversation loses all decorum and dignity and even grows vulgar. An interesting kind of "tea-drinking" is described in the tavern where the officers drink tea with regiment doctor's wife Mary Hendrikhovna while the doctor takes a nap on a broad bench behind her (II, 61). Since everyone knows how jealous the doctor is, the entire party, full of jesting and mocking, is innocent and malicious at the same time. The doctor awakens and lies for awhile listening to 112 what is being said and apparently finding nothing amusing or entertaining in what is going on, leaves the room. The officers burst into a laugh. Poor Mary Hendrikhovna ceases to smile happily and is near to tears. Then the husband returns from the yard, tells them that the rain has ceased and they must go to sleep in their covered cart, "or every thing in it would be stolen" (II, 63). The officers, see ing the doctor’s gloomy face become even merrier, seek all kinds of pretexts to prolong their party, but the doctor and his wife leave. This scene is truly lifelike; the relation of it establishes a faithful illusion of life with its sweet-bitter-sour trends occurring simultaneously— trends which are analyzed and described in detail. Obviously these are practices of a novelist. The inclusion of the scenes of war, which is per se an epic device, has already been discussed. Now I wish to discuss them in greater detail and analyze Tolstoy’s manner of presentation. Tolstoy’s descriptions of Schon Grabem, Austerlitz, and Borodino are famous. He tells the story superbly, but he is also interested to see the full truth; he is con cerned with the causes which lead to these actions. There fore neither the battle nor the hero nor the commander is always so smart and courageous as the posthumous insincere speeches describe them to be. To be sure there courage and heroism, but there is, also ambition; there is calcula tion, there is fear, even terror, and suffering. Napoleon knows the fundamental cause of success in a battles "Do you know, Rapp, what a military art is?" asked he. "It is the art of being stronger than the enemy at a given moment. That’s all." (II, 25l) He has here in mind the moral strength which bears the physical strength; but Napoleon, according to the author, lacks it during the Russian campaign, because justice was not on his side. Moreover he-cannot even justify the war for himself, though he comes to this conclusion gradually which is illustrated in his abandoning everything and flee ing. Tolstoy is interested in the first place in the moral aspect of the war and in the moral aspect of the array (Mishkovskaya, p. 132). Further, he is interested in how the people feel, act, go through the war. He discovers several degrees and kinds of heroism in the war situation. Napoleon’s heroism is poor when compared with that of the simple soldiers and unimportant officers. The soldiers are capable of viewing the battle and fighting it with epic relish. When Nicholas Rostov is wounded he secures, after much begging, a seat on a gun. The cloak they spread under him was wet with blood which stained his breeches and arm. "What, are you wounded, my lad?" said Tushin, approaching the gun on which Rostov sat. lib "No It's a sprain." "Then what is this blood on the gun-carriage?" inquired Tushln. "It was the officer, your honor, stained it,” answered the artilleryman, wiping away the blood with his coat-sleeve, as if apologizing for the state of his gun. (I, 250) Captain Tushin is the one who heroically fights at Schon Grrabem. He probably saves the entire Russian army by holding his post till the very last and never experiencing any fear or thinking that he could be wounded. During the battle he constantly is saying to himself: "Come along our Matvevna!" (I, 2*t7). Matvevna is the name his fancy gives to the farthest gun on the batteiy. It is large and of an old pattern. The French swarming round their guns seem to him like ants. Around him whistle and vibrate myriads of sounds. He listens Intently to the ebb and flow of these sounds and, as if convincing himself that he and his guns are still intact, mutters to himself: "AhI Breathing again, breathingI" He imagines himself, says the author, as an enormously tall, powerful man who is throwing balls at the French with both hands. "Now then, Matvevna, dear old lady, don't let me down" (I, 2b7). When Prince Andrew comes over to deliver an order for retreat they together "stepping across the bodies and under the terrible fire from the Frenoh" (I, 2*f8) attend to the removal of the guns. Tushin, though an insignificant little officer, 115 reminds one by his fighting of the epic heroes whose battles are narrated in a number of battle scenes in both Homeric poems and in the Aeneid. Tolstoy's epic scenes are equally grand. During the Battle of Borodino (II, 26*0 at the Raevskl Redoubt all is in turmoil and commotion. In the busy atmosphere and general confusion everyone tries to fulfill his duty with extreme zeal and supernatural energy. The depiction of these battle scenes prompts to one's mind the war of gods and men in the Iliad. Book XX. Quiet, mature, self-confident and self-sacrificing is the heroism of Kutuzov, Karataev, Denisov, and the Russian people in general. Even Natasha, when she fights for the wounded to be taken out of Moscow, belongs to such "grey" heroes. This kind of heroic, patient, and firm attitude is evident in the fleeing French soldiers as por trayed in Ramballe and his orderly (II, 676). The heroic young, enthusiastic souls are represented by the brothers Rostov; the naive, idealistic, and timid by Pierre; the perverse and frightful by Dolokhov. Frequently heroism is curbed or stripped of its glori ous aspect either by fear, or by an attempt to save oneself, or by both of these feelings. At Borodino Pierre meets with a young French officer (II, 265). Both are frightened and both see fear on the other's face. Understanding this, they refrain from combat. Most of the time the heroism displayed is connected with patriotism, honor, the sense of duty, and desire for fame, Nicholas Rostov, when he fights to recover the stolen purse (I, 170), believes that he is saving his officer's honor. For the same reason he gallantly saves the Polish girl (I, 527). His motives for helping Princess Mary (II» 180), are more complex, because he falls in love with her at first sight. Both Nicholas and Petya want to distinguish themselves in the battle, because that is their personal philosophy, and that is what everybody expects of them. Even Pierre challenges Dolokhov in order to protect his honor (1, *f09)« because it is not jealousy or love to his wife that onkias him fight the duel. It is the accepted convention of the society and Pierre still conforms. With all these examples in view it can be concluded that, despite the scattered novelistic techniques, on the whole Tolstoy's handling of the battle and combat scenes is predominantly epic. Also a truly epic trait is the heroes' affection for their horses and dogs. Nicholas Rostov buys from Telyanin a young horse Rook (I, 166). There is quite a discussion of the importance of a good horse to an officer; later Nicholas buys another horse, called Bedouin. The names are always mentioned. There is also the old count's horse, Viflyanka. The affectionate relationship of the officers with their horses is well expressed in Petya's attitude 117 towards his horse. In the dark Petya recognized his own horse, which he called "Karabakh" though It was of Ukrainian breed, and went up to It. "Well, Karabakh1" We'll do some service tomorrow," said he, sniffling Its nostrils and kissing it. (IX, 617) Equally affectionate relationship exists between the dogs and their owners. One of these dogs, a little blue- grey animal with a long body and short bandy legs, lives with the prisoners in the shed and sleeps beside Karataev at night (II, 553)* It frequently makes excursions to town, but always returns again. The French call it Azor; soldiers, Femgalka; Karataev and others call him Grey or Flabby• Its lack of a master or a name, or even of a breed or any definite oolor, did not seem to trouble the blue-grey dog in the least. Everything pleased it. (II, 553-55*0 The little dog's disposition and his peaceful, vegetative existence explains and completes Karataev's character show ing Karataev's proximity to nature and its creatures. After Karataev is shot, the dog starts howling (II, 631), whereas men, including Pierre, the creatures endowed with reasoning power and ability for observation, understand that Karataev'8 death as an innocent victim of war is sin ful, unnatural and shameful. At the same time they are powerless to check the "force of destruction" finishing its round. Rugay is the hero-dog of War and Peace. He belongs to the "Uncle" and in a dramatic race during the hare hunt succeeds in outdoing his rivals— Ilagln's Ezra and Rostov's Milka. The episode portrays not only the atmosphere of suspense during the hunt, but also the attachment and ten derness of the country-gentlemen for their dogs. "Rugay, hey. hey!" he shouted, "Rugayushka!" he added, involuntarily by this diminutive expressing his affection and the hopes he placed on his red borzoi. (I, 68l) The "Uncle's" pride in his dog is stressed further when the author gives all the details of finishing up the epic hunt ritual: Only the delighted "Uncle" dismounted, and cut off a pad, shaking the hare for the blood to drip off, and anxiously glancing round with restless eyes while his arms and legs twitched. He spoke without himself knowing whom to or what about. "That's it, come on! That's a dog!" . . . There, it has beaten them all, the thousand rubles as well as the one-ruble borzois. (I, 683) Comparatively little description is found of the palaces, living quarters, or rooms. Tolstoy as a rule touches only upon the most important, the inevitable, but usually selects some indicative detail which conveys to the reader the complete picture and stirs his imagination. For example, one does not know what the Bezukhov mansion looks like, but this short account suggests admirably its solid ity and stateliness. Pierre well knew this large room divided by columns and an arch, its walls hung round with Persian carpets. 119 The part of the room behind the columns, with a high silk-curtained mahagony bedstead on one side and on the other an immense case containing icons, was brightly Illuminated with red light like a Bussian church during evening service. Under the gleaming icons stood a long invalid chair. (1, 98-99) With the slight exception of the Bogucharovo incident, there is no rift or hostility between the higher soolal class and the peasants and serfs who work for them or attend on them. Count Ilya Rostov, the jovial old gentle man, during the name-day ball, dances his favorite Daniel Cooper. As soon as the music starts, the serfs and ser vants gather in the doorways and with beaming faces watch their "barin.'1 "Just look at the master1 A regular eagle he isI” loudly remarked the nurse. • • • (I, 85) Old Prince Bolkonski's servant, Tikhon, his steward, Alpatych, and other servants many times have to suffer from their master's eccentricities, but they like him and respect him. Alpatych tries to imitate his master In "speaking rapidly, just as the prince did” (II, 129). There are a great number of servants and all of them, as a rule, are Identified by first names and often also by patronymics and family names. Some like Tikhon, Dron, Alpatych, Lavrushka, Rostov's orderly Efim, the driver, who goes through an unchanging elaborate ritual every time before starting on a journey, beoome memorable. Also Napoleon's Mameluke Rustan is not forgotten and his rela tionship with his master is the same— respect, mutual 120 trust, even affection. The background of War and Peace is very rich, Indeed. It is constructed pre-eminently according to the practices and devices of the epic tradition. The novelistic elements consist of the minute details, unique atmosphere, and the psychological revelations connected with the episodes. Furthermore the background is organically grown together with the characters and their actions In a most natural, intimate way. An effect is created that people do not stand alone, but are part of the process of life and of human society and thus are related to the sum total of things and of the world. On the other hand Russian life and society are so well portrayed that Turgenev, another expert on Russian scenexy and life, recommended Tolstoy's novel to French readers as a best textbook of Russian national life and customs. • • • te iz francuskich chitatelei, kogo ne ottolknut nemnogiye dlinoti prichudllvost nekotorich ocenok, budut oprave skazat sebe, chto "Voina i mir" dala yim bo lye neposradstvennoe 1 vemoe predstavleniye o oharaktere y temperaments ruakogo naroda, voobshche o ruskoi zhlzni, chem esli bi onl prochltali sotni sochineniyi po etnografiyi i istoriyi.-5 The events related in War and Peace spread over fif teen years. This comparatively long period is not typical N. Gusev, Lev Nikolaevich Tolstoy (Moskva: Izdatelstvo Akademlyi nauk S&JR, p . 876. 121 of an epic. In Homer or Dante the incidents are contracted into a brief span of days or weeks. Besides, Tolstoy handles the temporal element in a unique way. Time in War and Peace . . . is not so much articulated as generalised and averaged. Its spread is not determined by inten sity of the action; it has on the contrary a cold and deadly regularity, which is extended to the characters and unaffected by them. The characters grow or grow old.32 The change is primarily general and inevitable. To be sure it coincides also with the new experiences gained by the characters or with their passions (e.g., Pierre's passionate seeking for the meaning of life, Natasha's drive to fulfill her duty as a woman), but often these causes are quietly submerged into the general cosmic rhythm which carries everyone to his way of "all flesh." The narrative . . . follows the most astronomical course which for mankind determines time's measurement; it is regular, arithmetical, and in a sense Inhuman and featureless. (Muir, p. 99) This concept of time lends the work an epic calmness and solidity. It unifies the structure, but also leaves an Impression in the end of the inconclusiveness of the novel and the continuity of life described in it. For these accomplishments we often associate Tolstoy's temporal breadth with the notion of epic, which is not entirely true. 32Edwin Muir, The Structure of the Novel (New Yorks Harcourt Brace & Co., 1929)» p. 122 In his great novel Tolstoy succeeds in creating a world In its completeness which according to Hegel is a typical sign of an eplc.33 it there are any omissions, such as sex life, or others, the reader does not notice and does not feel them. He is overwhelmed by the grandeur of Tolstoy's universe. The basic design for his huge scope is constructed according to the principle of selection. Among the ephemeral agents of the concrete world Tolstoy chooses the independent, stable "das in slch selbst Begrundete und Notwendige” (Hegel, p. 937). Thus the design of the scope is epic; but there is no effort on the author's part the selected materials "zum episohen Worte konzentrlert auszusprechen" (Hegel, p. 937). The execution complies with the techniques of the novel. The realistic, true-to-life aspect is stressed; the particular, even acci dental, minutely revealed together with the universal aspects. Atmosphere The atmosphere of War and Peace is calm and serene; the pace unhurried. Even in the scenes of war the author proceeds to describe the combats and battle scenes in the manner of the unperturbed narrative. He paints many 33l)er Inhalt des Epos 1st, wie wlr ashen, das ganze einer Welt, in der eine indiviauelle Handlung geschieht (Hegel, p. 970). 123 details, but at the same time seleets the most characteris tic incidents. If there are instances of enthusiasm or heroism, they are neutralized by bringing in the complexity and Hthe other siden of the matter, and by showing the picture as completely as possible. Therefore, there is no overflowing enthusiasm or heroic glamour to color these scenes and to lend them pathos, flavor, pageantry* Every thing is matter-of-fact, simple, realistic. Nevertheless, several scenes in the novel, which are built up in a manner of rising action, are full of suspense^ oharged with atmosphere. Such is Dolokhov's wager with the Englishman (I, 36), The scene is dominated by dialogue. Description and comments are scant, and consist of apt and seleotive details. The danger portrayed in the scene is expressed through the reactions and mutterings of the per sonages : "OhI Oh! Oh!" he muttered, looking down from the window at the stones of the pavement. (I, *+0) After this short scene charged with suspense and incerti tude, the author resumes the narrative thread and tells in detail the very act of Dolokhov— his drinking out of a bottle of rum while sitting on the sloping ledge outside the window, and without holding onto anything. During the performance of this reckless deed, those present become silent, and most of them freeze In some unfinished action. Flexure closes his eyes and thinks "that he would never 12V open them again" (I, Vl). Through the contrast teohnique, silence versus the exuberant reckless daring of the drunken holokhov, suspense achieved thrdugh rising action and through carefully selected details, Tolstoy is able to create an atmosphere whimsical and unstable, corresponding to the characters described and to their way of life. Another example of creating a proper atmosphere is the episode describing Natasha's restlessness and longing for Prince Andrew during the Christmas Season, The reasons for her strange behavior stem from her complex, womanly nature; from her awakened dreams which remain unfulfilled. She feels sorry for herselfs sorry that she is being wasted all this time, that she is of no use to anyone, i while she feels herself so capable of loving and being loved (I, 696). Meanwhile the holidays approach, and Christmas hay, which is always an anticlimax, is difficult for one with such a frame of mind, especially when one lives in a country manor. In addition, the weather is extremely cold, and "the dazzling sunshine by day and the starlight of the winter nights seemed to call for some special celebration” (I, 696). Natasha with her naturally strong passionate soul and spontaneous way of acting is not able to be content and tranquil. She has to express somehow her anguish and unhappiness. The author, after having set the environment of peace, even dullness, 125 juxtaposes to It Natasha's restlessness and caprice by letting her wander forlornly through the rooms; then con fronting her with various people who are at peace. First it is her mother , then Kondrataevna and Mavruahka; also the old footman whom she orders to bring in an old cook; Misha; Theodore; Foka, the butler, and finally Nastasya Ivanovna, the buffoon. Having given the orders to perform something for her she immediately forgets them, but her anguish and restlessness are not yet spent. Petya has to carry her downstairs. Then she betakes herself to the ballroom where she picks up a guitar and starts running her fingers over the strings in the bass picking out a passage she recalled from an opera she had heard in St. Petersburg. She broods on the past. Sonya happens to pass by, and this little detail awakens her from her dreams and brings her back to her environment, but she sees that everything is the same and a sense of repulsion rises up in her "for the whole household, because they are the same" (I, 700). This dullness in the background as juxtaposed to Natasha's feelings produces a subtle atmosphere of agoniz ing smart, misery, and agitation. One after another trivial and insignificant episodes per se mirror the uneventful flow of life in a pastoral setting in which even Nicholas' and Sonya's love appears idyllic and untroubled. In that epic mode of the narrative it is Natasha's distressed, 126 aching soul which charges life with depth; her reactions to these trifling, insignificant, or joyous events show the vitality of Natasha's soul and reveal the process of matur ation going on in her heart. The deeply penetrating analy sis of the human inner life creates an atmosphere and lends to the narrative a novelistic flavor. The atmosphere of profound grief and silence is created in the chapter describing Princess Mary who keeps vigil after her father's funeral. For a long time that night Princess Mary sat by the open window of her room hearing the sound of the peasants' voices that reached her from the village. • • • After sunset the wind had dropped. The night was calm and fresh. Towards midnight the voices began to subside, a cock crowed, the full moon began to show from behind the lime trees, a fresh white dewy mist began to rise, and stillness reigned over the village and the house. (II, 177) Memories come. The pictures and details of her life with her father present themselves vividly before her eyes. She repeats his last words to her; his face she sees before her. The grieving Princess Maiy tries to think of some thing else, but she cannot. With widely open eyes she gazes at the moonlight and the shadows; the silence brood ing over the house becomes unbearable• . "Dunyasha," she whispered. "Dunyasha." she screamed wildly and tearing herself out of this silence she ran to the servants' quarters. (II, 179) Despite the occasional scenes which are enveloped in the atmosphere of grief, of restlessness, of anxiety, or of 127 any other possible human emotion or mood, the basic temper of the narrative remains calm, unperturbed, leisurely. Among the elements which contribute to this characteristic Is always a great number of specific details which accom pany every description and every scene. Tolstoy never uses a general explanation or an ambiguous statement. Even in the middle of a relation of an event or presentation of a scene which is full of suspense or joyous exuberance, the author checks the mood with a precise word and the accurate account of a concrete situation: Suddenly Dolokhov made a backward movement with his spine, and his arms trembled nervously; this was sufficient to cause his whole body to slip as he sat on the sloping ledge. As he began slipping down, his head and arm wavered still more with the strain. One hand moved as if to clutch the window-sill, but refrained from touching it. (I, *fl) Another device adding to the tranquility of the atmos phere and the slow dignity of the pace is the attempt at balance and proportion in the narrative. The author tries to achieve it not only through presentation of the idea or situation in all its completeness, illustrating its various ramifications, but also through certain peculiarities in diction. Among these belong the epic question and answer device; What does all this mean? Why did it happen? What made these people bum houses and slay their fellow- men? What were the causes of these events? What force made men act so? — Modem history replying to these questions says: You want to know what this 128 movement means, what caused It, and what force pro duced these events? Then listen • • • (II, 797) Now the author enumerates his answers and weighs his evi dence. The epic question appears not only in the basic narrative voice or the formulary comments, but is fre quently and constantly used in the body of the entire story. How would the Count have borne his dearly loved daughter's illness • . • ? What would the countess have done had she not been able sometimes to scold the invalid for not strictly obeying the doctor's orders? What would Sonya have done without the glad consciousness • • • ? (II, 69) Since Tolstoy's characters are fond of self-analyzing, the questions frequently appear in the characters' voices. "But what on earth is worrying me?" he asked him self as he rode back from the general. "Ilyin? No, he's safe. Have I disgraced myself in any way? No, that's not it." (II, 701) Another device, purely epic, which influences the pace and the atmosphere is repetition. Though frequent in War and Peace, repetition somehow does not intrude upon the reader's enjoyment of the novel. Examples of this tech nique are Natasha's retelling of the story of Prince Andrew'8 death and Pierre's relating of his adventures in besieged Moscow. "... and there were women who had their things snatched off and their earrings torn out. . • ."he flushed and grew confused. "Then the patrol arrived and all the men— all thoBe who were not looting, that is— were arrested, and I among them." (II, 705) Pierre "flushes" and gets confused, because he remembers 129 how the earrings were tom away from the Armenian woman whom he tried to save, and the idea that Natasha and Princess Mary might think he is boasting make him uneasy. Thus the narrative is repeated not only for the epic pur pose— to slacken the pace and create the atmosphere, or to produce rhythm, but it discloses at the same time new traitb or steps of development of the characters. The following indirect summary and repetition reveals the chaos and association of ideas in Pierre's mind after the battle: "They, the soldiers at the battery. Prince Andrew killed • . . That old nan . . . Simplicity is sub mission to God. Suffering is necessary • . • the meaning of all . . . one must harness . . . my wife is getting married . . . One must forget and under stand ..." And going to bed he threw himself on it without undressing and immediately fell asleep. (II, 339) A similar aim with regard to the atmosphere is ful filled by enumerations and catalogues: — that is the murders, first in France, then in Italy, in Africa, in Prussia, in Austria, in Spain, and in Russia. (II, 726) In the next chapter are enumerated the steps of Napoleon's military career, his rise to power, and the decline of his glory (II, 727-731). Furthermore there is the generals' "catalogue" at the council meeting in Kutuzov's headquar ters (I, 3^1» 3^2), the detailed description including names of the Emperor Alexander's staff in Vilna (II, *+1), and many others. To the relaxed atmosphere add the epic retardations of the action. There are a great many of them. Most of the characters are fond correspondents which is, of course, inevitable in a war situation making long separations a necessity. Especially Interested in letter-writing are the Bolkonski and Rostov families. Princess Mary's corres pondence with Julie Karagina (1, 110-116 and I, 6*+2-6Mt) is rather in novelistic tradition of two idle heroines exchange ing their opinions, gossip, and sentiments, but the letters of old Prince Bolkonski to his son (I, *+90), or Prince Andrew's letter to his sister, are very Important to the story itself as they advance the action, reveal Important characteristics of the personages, even describe the setting. Among the letters of historical persons are Napoleon's letter to Kutuzov (I, 531) and Alexander's letter to Napoleon (II, 15-16). The reading of the letters included in the novel con stitutes a little ritual in itself. As examples of this could be mentioned Prince Vasili's somewhat ridiculous recitation of the Bishop's letter in Anna Pavlovna's salon (I, ^5*+-*+ 56) or the first letter from Nicholas Rostov. The reactions of the entire Rostov household are described; the joy, anxiety, and pride duly recorded. The Countess Rostov is not told at once about the arrival of the letter, but prepared for the news by several hints during the dinner. Then Anna Mikhaylovna, her good friend, 131 takes upon herself the task to acquaint Nicholas' mother with such an import suit event. Meanwhile the count "put his ear to the keyhole and listened (I, 307). The process of "Initiation" is described in a suitable epic simile. At first the eavesdropping count heard the sound of Indifferent voices, then Anna Mikhaylovna's voice alone In a long speech, then a cry. then silence, then both voices together with glad intonations, and then footsteps. Anna Mikhaylovna opened the door. Her face wore the proud expression of a surgeon who has just performed a difficult operation and admits the public to appreciate his skill. (I, 307) Needless to add that the letter was read over hundreds of times and practically all the household had to come to hear it. Including the tutors, nurses, even several acquaintances • The long speeches of the heroes could also be con sidered a retarding element. As a rule the dialogue of War and Peace consists of short speeches, but there are quite a few exceptions to this. Napoleon delivers a long, sermon-like speech to Balashev about his own plans, criti cizes Tsar Alexander's policies, and tries to prove his own righteousness. Baleehev attempts to interrupt the Emperor, but with no success (II, 2M— 29). Some of Prince Andrew's speeches explaining his own views are extremely long (II, 232). To this category belongs the formal prayer for Russia's deliverance. It is composed by the Holy Synod in true Orthodox Church tradition and is nearly 132 two pages long (II, 81-82) • Rather interesting is Natasha's reaction to this prayer. She prays to God with tenderness and emotion, but without fully understanding what she is asking for. The strange names from the Bible applied to the present situation are unfamiliar to her and she "could not pray that her enemies might be trampled under foot (II, 82). The author's comment and the psychological details depicting the characters' reactions add to this epic trait a novel touch. Among other epic speeches should be mentioned Princess Maiy's address to the Bogucharovo peasants (II, 175)i Kutuzov's speech to the anqy (I, 667-668), Alexander's short speech to the Moscow nobility, and others. Quite the same purpose is served by the excerpts from Napoleon's memoirs (II, 289); Pierre's diaries (I, 583* 592); Rostopchin's broadsheets (II, 33*+); disposition for the battle written down from Napoleon's dictation (II, 2M+-2*+5); Berthier's report to Napoleon (II, 635); Sonya's reading of the Tsar's manifesto (II, 91); Napoleon's proclamation (II, 2^2) and so on. To the atmosphere of placidness and the relief from the serious events during the war add the rare instance of humor. In Tolstoy's writing humorous situations seem most frequently to arise spontaneously when the lower class is confronted with the higher class of society and their ways 133 of life. A man of the people reads the broadsheets written by the Governor of Moscow and Interprets them In an entirely different sense (II* 383). In the deserted draw ing room of the Rostov Moscow house the yard porter is overwhelmed by the luxury and splendor of the rooms. His arms akimbo, he smiles with satisfaction before the large mirror when, suddenly appearing, Mavra Kuzminichna begins to scold the poor enchanted man and drives him away (II, 378). Even funnier are some situations depicting French and Russian confrontations. The porter listening in perplexity to the unfami liar Polish accent and not realizing that the inter preter was speaking Russian, did not understand what was being said to him and slipped behind the others. (II, 399) The most subtle among these episodes are the Russianized name of the French drummer-boy Vincent Bosse into "Veeenny," meaning "vernal" which the peasants in their dialect "Russianize" even more to "veeenya," meaning "vesna" or the Spring (II, 609), and the song of Henry Quatre (II, 677). The truly epic devices used by the author such as leisurely pace, repetitious, retarding moments, and humor to produce the atmosphere of epic calm and tranquility are modified by the author's psychological interest, his strict adherence to truth and actuality. The occasional deviations of atmosphere, the moods of recklessness, anxiety, grief, restlessness, or silence and quietude lend the narrative a definitely novellstic flavor. 13^ Structure A study of the structure of War and Peace reveals also both the epic and the novelistic features of the work. Fundamentally, Tolstoy is interested in telling a good story about Life and life in Russia during the period of the Napoleonic Wars. The story has always been central to the epic poet's work. This emanates from his basic concept of art. Hegel in his famous treatise on the epic maintains that "die Aufgabe der epischen Foesie sei, das Geschehen M einer Handlung darzustellen" (Asthetik. p. 957) and further he states that "Epos nicht eine Handlung als Handlung, sondem eine Begebenheit zu schildem hat" (p. 962). The reader feels that the author of War and Peace enjoys telling his story and that he honestly believes it to be worth while and important. P. Merejkowski thinks that this intention of Tolstoy entirely dominates his novel. He says: Peace and War and Anna Karenina . . . are really novels. original epics. Here as we have seen, the artistic centre of gravity is not in the dialogue between the characters, but in the telling of the story; not in what they say, but in what is said of them; not in what we hear with our ears, but in what we see with our eyes. (Tolstoy, pp. 2*f0-2>+l) Despite the fact that the emphasis is upon the story, the reader has to do a great deal of "watching." This means that the story is portrayed as a sequence of scenes, and the reader turns towards them, participates in them, sees 135 the action. The scenic method is predominant in War and Peace.^ The presentation of the story in a sequence of scenes makes the narrative objective. On the other handy Tolstoy never relinquishes his rights as an omniscient author. He himself is heard all the time; his short comments are of crucial importance. Prince Andrew obtains an audience with the Minister of War, Count Arakcheev (War and Peace. I, 567). Before the audience the author tells the reader what Prince Andrew had heard about the minister; then in a scene describes the meeting. There seems to be no comment about Arakcheev, but the very fact that the officer on duty tells Prince Andrew to enter in a whisper and that Prince Andrew reacts to the war minister's abrupt question, "What is your petition?" with a "quiet" voice and a polite restraint communicate to the reader that this high official is dedi cated to his duty, competent, honest, but somewhat stiff and pedantic. Tolstoy is very sparse with his comments and selects carefully the right word to indicate the character, the situation, or the feeling. One finds an epic restraint in the narrative similar to Homer's or Vergil's: a word may J Percy Lubbock, The Craft of Fiction (New York: Jonathan Cape and Harrison Smith, 1929), p. 119* 136 suggest the attitude, thoughts, or features of the charac ter, describe the mood or the situation. Homer illustrates Briseis's feelings when she has to leave Achilles with one short sentence "And the woman went all unwilling" (Iliad. Book I); or the hanged women's feet "jerked for a little while, but not long" (Odyssey. Book XXII). In a similar way Tolstoy talking about Princess Mary and her sick father says: "She had "to endure and love and that she did" (War and Peace. I, 6**2) or when Pierre leaves the battlefield and joins the eating soldiers sitting at the road one of them "handed Pierre a wooden spoon after licking it clean" (II, 329). Where possible, the author tries to present these eomments in an indirect way or to incorporate them in a poetic device: a comparison, a metaphor. In describing Berg's bourgeois attitudes he only says that Berg arrived with an immaculate brand-new uniform, "with his hair pomaded and brushed forward at the temples as the Emperor Alexander wore his hair" (I, 622). Even Tolstoy's ideas on history are clothed in a garb of an extended epic formula. All this shows the author's attempt at objectiv ity and the consistency of his narrative method. In choosing his materials Tolstoy does not follow so much the antique concept of art. First, as a modern writer and a realist, he rejects the direct presentation of the 137 myth, and looks for his materials in the stream of life, seeking to find meaning in its daily and historical events• Secondly, he chooses to present his theme in its multiple pattern. The modem mind divides, specialises, thinks in categories; the Greek instinct was the opposite— to take the widest view, to see things as an organic whole (Kitto, The Greeks. p. 169), Trying to express one conception of life as forcibly and as clearly as possible, the Greeks achieved great simplicity and intensity, but Tolstoy frankly aims at variety and expansiveness. He takes the fates of five families and describes them in the flux of life, during war and peace plunging immedi ately in "the middle of things"— in the process of life, but there is no typical "flashback" to supply the informa tion of the previous life of the characters. The plot is constructed to reveal the meaning of life by showing it in the action; the entire narrative runs in a straightforward line despite the retarding moments which should be con sidered as typically epic, because Bern rein epischen Stile entspricht die ruhig und stetig in einer Richtung ablaufende, wenn auch dureh - retardierende Momenta zeitweis aufgehaltene Haltung.37 Though the main series of events move slowly in a direct line, there are separate movements within the Heinze, Ylrgils Epiache Technlk. Zweite Auflage (Leipzig und Berlin! Drunk und Yerlag von B. G. Teubner, 1908), p. 321. 138 Incidents making up this chain. Some episodes are organ ized to produce the “rising action." In many, diverse techniques are used to stress the psychological moments, verisimilitude, realistic background or details. The climaxes and crises are always presented in a scene. A very important step in Pierre's development— his sudden awareness that "Life is God" is revealed by portraying Pierre's dream (War and Peace. II, 632). In other words eveiy incident is carefully analyzed with only one purpose in mind— to reveal the essence of life through its manifes tations; to show life as it is not only on the surface, but in its very depths. Tolstoy follows in such cases the novelist's practices: oft hat man den Eindruck, dasz es dem Romandlchter gar nicht mehr darauf ankomme, eine Welt dichterisch fur uns auffzubauen, sondera darauf, in alls Palten und Geheimni8se unserer Welt hineinzuleuchten und damit deren Gefuge zu durchleuchten • (Seidler, Die Diohtung. p. 9+5) Tolstoy never forgets that his main aim is to weave all these episodes, however detailed and finely wrought, into one artistic world. None of the elements which contribute to the plot, namely, the action, the character, or the thought, predomi nates. True, there are a great number of characters, but in proportion with the entire grand design they are justi fied and necessary to suggest the variety of life and to present the multifold aspects of the social setting. The 139 multiple plots involving five families particularize the author's idea concerning Life and at the same time produce a cumulative effect in the reader's mind, proving the theme. Also, the realistic aspects are more vividly por trayed and verisimilitude is mors easily achieved. Tolstoy's narrative is knit together somewhat loosely, but not carelessly. The episodes from various families' lives are interwoven at uneven intervals; also interspersed at uneven periods are urban, rural and diverse battle scenes. Consistently, but not regularly, appear repeti tious and formulary comments. The interchanging of these numerous different elements, also of scene and narration, produces a rhythmical movement representing well the pulsa tion of life, and by this very idea all is unified into one artistic structure. War and Peace ends in the same way as it started— in the middle of life. The process of living goes on. It cannot be wholly enclosed even by the two epilogues attached at the end. That the ending of a novel is meant to suggest continuing life could be deduced by the appear ance in the epilogue of the youngest generation in whom there are mirrored some of the typical features of the main characters of the novel. The contemporary Russian critics see in Nikolenka Bolkonski a future Decembrist (Gusev, Lev Nikolaevich Tolstoy, p. 791), but other IbO conjectures could be made with equal right* The epilogue ends with thfree dots. By this simple device, perhaps, Tolstoy wishes to indicate the continuance of life. The greatest indication, however, is that the characters though settled have not yet finished their development. Para phrasing Pierre's words, one could say that there is still much before them. They will grow and grow old. Things will happen to them in the same way that they happen to real living individuals. The feeling of continuance is so extremely life-like and actual that it made a certain reader of the novel by the name of Lady Tscherkaskaya to - ask the author whether War and Peace is going to be con tinued (Gusev, p. 851). The roughly hewn edges of War and Peace suggest the endings of the Homeric epics (Steiner, p. 115) and are equally convincing. Only Tolstoy's inclusion of the second epilogue is usually criticized as superfluous and imperti nent.-^ I believe that the second epilogue can be justi fied as an outgrowth of the epic formula which is used con sistently throughout the entire novel. It is somewhat long too extended, but the author's unique way of expressing himself makes it interesting reading. This discourse has the charm of the style of an ancient bard, but at the same 3^Shestov, Tolstoy und Nietsche (K5ln: Marcan-Block Verlag, 1923), p. 95; Steiner, p. 111. 1»+1 time it discloses intellectual depths worthy of the atten tion of a modem man. Characterization The characters of War and Peace, despite the unrest and vacillation surrounding them, emerge and live in a stable world. They experience the world as total; not the fragmented world of the modem novelists. The ultimate belief in human* dignity and the idea that this belief involves certain duties unifies Tolstoy's world, as it does the world of the Greek epics. Only Homer's heroes never question the worth of the glory they seek, nor the justice of their destinies; however Aeneas is not always sure about the legitimacy of his mission. In him Virgil displays what man really is, a creature uncertain of his place in the universe and of the goal in which he moves.37 The basic doubt in Tolstoy's novel is analyzed with greater particularity. As a result the characters become individ ualized to such an extent that they step out of the tradi tionally epic framework, becoming more or less typical novelistic personages. When the reader first meets Prince Andrew with his ironic smile, aloof manners, and sceptical attitudes, he J Bowra, Prom Virgil . . • , pp. 8*4—85. H+2 suspects that Andrew is bored with life and the society In which he moves. The scene which follows immediately, the prince1s quarrel with his wife in the presence of Pierre confirms this impression and shows some sources of his dissatisfaction. The appearance of Princess Lisa in the study, her frivolous, nonsensical talk when the men want to be alone discussing their most intimate sentiments, Andrew's polite but cruel disregard of her feelings, Pierre's incapability to help her— all is shown in minute detail and with profound psychological insight. The portrayal, step by step, of the princess* changing moods, reviewing the entire gamut of her feelings as they arise, as they come to a climax with her angry tears, is very realistic. Her defeat and her exit are superbly true to life. The dialogue is predominant in the scene, although summaries and comments by the author are equally revealing. "Lise!" said Prince Andrew drily, raising the voice to the pitch which indicates that patience is exhausted. Suddenly the angry squirrel-like expres sion of the princess's pretty face changed into a winning and piteous look of fear. Her beautiful eyes glanced askance at her husband's face, and her own assumed the timid deprecating expression of a dog when it rapidly but feebly wags its drooping tall. "Mon Dieu, mon Lieu!" she muttered, and lifting her dress with one hand she went up to her husband and kissed him on the forehead, (War and Peace. I. 32) The scene is novelistlc, full of particular moments, but in some way it is also vexy basic; cardinal human feelings 3*3 are distilled and presented* Ultimately the little Princess Lisa, though beauti fully delineated, admiringly realistic and alive remains a static character which does not change* She is a type of a good woman from the high society, well-mannered, well-bred, who is best described in these words of her husband: "Ity wife," continued Prince Andrew "is an excellent woman, one of those rare women with whom a man's honour is safe; but God, what would I not give now to be unmarried." (I, 33) Natasha Rostova is different* The reader watches her grow, change, and develop. She is truly individualized. When Natasha first appears as a little girl during the name-day party, she is characterized by the visitor Countess Karagina as a "charming creature" and a "little volcano" (I, 5l). She proves to be such throughout the novel in most particular and unexpected ways. The- scene with her doll, her flirtation with Boris, the moonlit bal cony scene in Otradnoe when she says: ". * . I feel like sitting down on my heels, putting my arms around my knees like this, strain ing tight, as tight as possible, and flying away I . . ." (I, %2) illustrate and prove the countess's description of her. Natasha's temporary infatuation with Anatole Kuragin is in the best novellstic tradition* From the psychological point of view the situation is well prepared. Bored and longing for her fiancd, craving to be noticed and admired, lMf afie is ready to fall an easy prey, especially after the unfriendly reception by the old Prince Bolkonskl and the cool meeting with Princess Maxy; yet with her unspoiled, natural soul she feels that Anatole's attentions during the opera performance are a disgrace. "Am I spoilt for Andrew's love or not?" she asked herself, and with soothing irony replied: "What a fool I am to ask that I What did happen to me? Nothing\ I have done nothing, I didn't lead him on at all • Nobody will know and I shall never see him again," she told herself. "So It is plain that nothing has happened and there is nothing to repent of, and Andrew can love me still. But why 'still?' 0 God, 0 God, why Isn't he here?" (I, 767) Natasha knows that nothing happened, but at the same time some instinct tells her that the former purity of her love for Prince Andrew has perished. Although capable of self- analysis, she nevertheless is led by instincts dictated to her nature by life itself, with which she is intoxioated; Life in her calls her to fulfill the duty as a woman and as a mother. To this she strives naturally and with all her vitality. Later when she can see how much she hurt Prince Andrew she regrets with the same sincerity and vigor. These sad experiences and the suffering bear in Natasha's heart a truly womanly compassion and charity. She reveals them with grace and dignity during the evacuation of Moscow and her meeting with the wounded Prince Andrew. These new qualities of her soul grow so strong that even her grief after Andrew's death cannot subdue them any more. She 3M cornea to life again when ahe ia needed moat— namely, after Petya'a death, when her mother ia not able to bear the loaa by herself. Grief and suffering have changed Natasha out wardly, and Pierre la not able to recognize her, because on that face whose eyes had always shown with a sup pressed smile of the joy of life • . • was not the least shadow of a smile: only her eyes were kindly attentive and sadly interrogative. (II, 699) Deep in her heart still lingers life and through Pierre's love she is entirely restored to this world. In the epi logue the reader meets her a ripe, mature woman and mother. The metamorphosis is complete. Natasha reached her destin ation and every step of her way as well as the end station are truthfully described. A particularly sensitive insight on the author's part, the correct, precise motivation, the emphasis upon psychology make her character distinct and original. She is a time heroine of a novel. On the other hand, as D. Merejkovski observes, basi cally Natasha's change from a young enchantress to a stal wart mother is a change of all that was characteristic, yet conventional, into the elemental, Impersonal, unconven tional and universal• So nature leads the bud to the fruit. The charm of Natasha the girl has not died out in Natasha the mother, "but sunk deeper, remaining divine, not divinely spiritual, only divinely fleshly" (Merejkovski, p. 210). This outlook upon life is pagan; its concept of art is very close to the Homeric epics. I*t6 Princess Mary is also greatly individualized. Her relationship with her old father, his death, her romantic meeting with Nicholas Rostov, their love and their married life could eventually he labeled as typical of the Russian aristocracy, if there were no detailed description of these events, no minute portrayal of Princess Mary’s feel ings, her longing to have a family, her quiet ways of expressing love and oompassion. Meek and submissive with her father she is nevertheless full of courage and initia tive. She believes that it is her duty to take care of the spiritual matters for the entire family. Deeply religious she takes upon herself to pray for them and to commit them unto Divine guidance and protection. When Andrew leaves for war the first time, it is she who thinks about blessing him with an icon and does it with quiet but firm determina tion. This trait remains with Princess Mary all her life. At the end of the novel where her family life is described with the usual psychological touch, she shows her husband the diary in which she has recorded all the memorable steps of the children’s development. "Perhaps it need not be done so pedantically," thought Nioholas, "or even done at all, but this untiring continual spiritual effort of which the sole aim was the children's moral welfare, delighted him. (II, 778) Sonya is another positive character of War and Peace. However she is more the type of aristocratic aunt who lives Ib7 with the family, for whom the family is more important than self-assertion. Of course, the timidity of her character is partly due to the circumstances and the entire social make-up. Sonya is not without temperament; her love for Nicholas is great and full of self-sacrifice, but she values security also. Her type is best summarized by Natasha quoting a passage from the Bible: "To him that hath shall be given, and from him that hath not shall be taken away.' xou remember. She is one that hath not; why I do not know; but from her is taken away, and everything is taken away. . . . She is a sterile flower, you know— like some etrawberry blossoms. Sometimes I am sorry for her, and some times I think she doesn't feel it as you or I would." (II, 7V7) H^ldne is an epitome of female guile. She is extremely beautiful and has a reputation of being a fascinating woman, because "She could say what she did not think— especially what was flattering— quite simply and natur ally" (I, 762). Despite the partial individualization H61&ne remains a typical lady of the highest arlstocraoy with her stereotyped, eternal smile. The reader is a little surprised, however not unpleasantly, when he hears this magnificent, unapproachable, and important smiling doll talk and even reason. She is clever no doubt; and this is not out of keeping with her character, because the reader is prepared for her display of cleverness by the constant comments about her wit and intelligence by the other characters. Her motives, however base, are not I*t8 simple. When she tries to introduce Natasha to her brother Anatole and makes a visit to Rostov, for this purpose Hll&ne for her part was sincerely delighted with Natasha and wished to give her a good time. Anatole had asked her to bring him and Natasha together. . . . The idea of throwing her brother and Natasha together amused her. . . . Tl, 772) To the same category belongs Julie Karagina, though she is not as negative as H£ldne and is not attractive but cunning and sentimental. Among the male characters most individualized are Pierre and Andrew. Pierre Bezukhov deviates from the line at the very beginning, being an illegitimate but a favorite son. Like Natasha he goes through many experiences until he finds the satisfying answer to the question concerning the meaning of life. What this answer is philosophically has been discussed; its practical application the author describes extensively at the end of the novel and especi ally in the first epilogue. Every moment of Pierre’s life is carefully motivated and psychologically true. A weak, indolent, naive youth at the beginning, he nurtures within himself a terrific physical strength and thirst for moral improvement ooupled with the capacity for philosophizing and meditation. He is gentle, but can be terrible. When he challenges Dolokhov (I, b22) or separates from his wife H61&ne (I, if20) his anger is horrifying. In the depths of his soul Ib9 Pierre is an honorable nan. He is extremely unhappy and remorseful that he had lied to Hdlfene— although without conscious intention— telling her that he loves her* When he discovers that he loves Natasha he refrains from visit ing Rostovs* Pierre reprimands and represses Anatole, tries to help everybody* Through constant striving to understand the meaning of life and his duty as a man, through experiences during the war, through suffering and instruction, through meditation and good will he finally finds his place and his vocation. After seven years of marriage Pierre had the joyous and firm consciousness that he was not a bad man, and he felt this because he saw himself reflected in his wife. (II, 759) At the beginning of the novel Pierre steps into a well organized, unified world, but he is critical of its tenets and unsure about the sterling quality of its ideals* Again, he cannot yet define for himself his own doubts; he does not know himself* Indeed, the world confronted is for him a labyrinth in which he tries to find his own way which does not happen until he comes out of his "moral bath" (II, 707). In Pierre's case the author's approach to characterization is purely novelistic (Seidler, p. 536), but again, Tolstoy, the master of complexity, displays his personage's characteristic epic trait. As a true epic hero, Pierre chooses to perform a concrete task for the welfare of humanity and . . . for his personal glory, 150 perhaps. He decides to assassinate Napoleon, "the Anti** Christ" of the Apocalypse; but in the course of this adven ture Pierre shows himself lacking true convictions. He performs various other "good deeds"— saving the child from the fire, rescuing the Armenian lady, but in connection with his ultimate end, Pierre's zeal wears thin, especially when he discovers in the conversation with Captain Ramballe that the French as enthusiastically revere their Emperor— "The Emperor? He is generosity, mercy, justice, order, genius • • •" (II, *+15)— as Russians revere their Czar, Meanwhile he discovers other truths of life which entirely occupy him and lead him astray from his previous patriotic goal. Prince Andrew Bolkonaki is perhaps the most success fully portrayed "good man" in all fiction (Noyes, p, l8*f). The reader watches Andrew's various activities, his pride and self-confidence, his capability to analyze himself and the environment, his manly courage, and his retreat, especi ally in hopeless situations, to irony and scepticism. Coldly intellectual at moments, yet capable of great love, Andrew changes at the end becoming a rare man to whom are communicated the laws and not of this world only. His timely death after Natasha comes back to him should be counted as tragic. It is so from this world's point of view, but in the novel it is not. Andrew's tragedy dis solves itself when confronted with his newly acquired 151 knowledge that Life is moved by Love , and consequently his approaching death is just another step on the ladder of existence. Death is natural and inevitable. Prince Andrew*s exit is ultimately epic, even more so than Natasha's• Quite differently from the artistic point of view, Platon Karataev is created. He is believable and realis tic, but at the same time Karataev who talks in proverbs is also a symbol of an ultimate wisdom. In this character Tolstoy was able to create an individual authentic and unique in spite of Karataev's want of personality (Merejkovski, p. 206) only by the effect of "roundness" emanating not so much from the inward but from the outward bodily characteristics. Platon stands for what is good, even perfect in the people— "the personification of every- thing Russian, kindly and round" (War and Peace. II, 502), and at the end he vanishes like a drop of water which expands, spreads out and disappears in the ocean of eter nity. Quite significantly and symbolically Pierre meets Karataev at night, but somehow gets the impression that he is "round." This "roundness" suggesting perfection invades Pierre's mind and remains with him all his life. When Pierre saw his neighbour, next morning at dawn the first impression of him, as of something round, was fully confirmed: Platon's whole figure— in a French overcoat girdled with a cord, a soldier's cap, and bast shoes— was round. His head was quite round, his back, chest shoulders, and even his arms, which he 152 held as If ever ready to embrace something, were rounded, his pleasant smile and his gentle brown eyes were also round. (11$ 502) The confirmation of this first impression of "round ness " in the morning suggests that Karataev is actually what Pierre at first thought him to be. It was not Pierre*s wishful thinking to see in Karataev the projection and embodiment of his subconscious ideas, as is sometimes 38 suggested. Karataev becomes most real when on his face besides the joyful emotion appears an expression of quiet solemnity and, looking at Pierre with his kindly round eyes, now'filled with tears, evidently "wishing him to come near that he may tell him something," he quietly meets his death, but begins his life in Pierre's heart as his teacher and his example. The peasant Platon Karataev is an outstanding person and a symbol of a spiritually developed, wise individual; the aristocrat Nicholas Rostov is an example of an average man, full of uncontrolled passions, drives, and ambitions, but the author pays an equal share of attention to both. Mit welcher Liebe schildert Tolstoy seinen Nicolai Rostoff! Ich kenne keinen anderen Roman, in dem ein so hoffhunglos mittelmaszlger Mensch in so poetischen Farben geschlldert worden ware. Selbst eine solche Tatsache, wle die, dass der Stein seines Ringes ^ L. P. Bichkov, "Roman *Voina i mir'" in L. N. Tolstcy, sbomik statey, pod obshcheij redakciey D. I). Blagogo (Moskva: Gosudarstvennoe uchebno pedagogicheskoe izdatel- stuo, 1955), p. 183. 153 zerspringt, vermag Tolstoi von Rostoff nicht abzubrlngen. (Shestov, Tolstoi und Nietzsche, p. 101) Anger Is one of the leading passions in Nicholas. The author shows many variations of the same. All the manifes tations of his anger starting with his teaching a lesson to Telyanin (War and Peace. I, 171), his irritation with Prince Andrew (I, 317) or chastising of Mitenka (I, 662) are true to life and psychologically sound. Otherwise changing a little, Nicholas by the end of the novel shows improvement in controlling his anger. The son of Prince Andrew breaks his uncle's sealing wax and pens. Nicholas started angrily. "All right, all right," he said, throwing the bits under the table. And evi dently suppressing his vexation with difficulty, he turned away from the boy. (II, 776) Practically everyone in the Rostov family has a basic passion which dominates his or her life. The old count is prodigal and hospitable beyond his means, Nicholas is easily raised to anger, Natasha is passionately feminine and a passionate mother, Petya is obsessed to become a hero, to distinguish himself in the war. Like Nicholas, Petya loves his country passionately, adores the Emperor, but he does not have Nicholas' sturdier common sense, nor his brother'8 luck. Even Vera, one could say, is passion ately disagreeable. As there are certain traits prevalent in the individ uals, so there are qualities identifying the famili.es. For 19+ instance the Kuragins are all distinctive and analogous because of their poise, self-confidence, and their assuring nonchalance— be it expressed by Hdl&ne's radiant smile, Hippolyte's amused surprise, or Anatole's eloquent silence and swinging of his foot. The Rostovs are close to nature, passionate, ready to help their fellow-men. They are endowed with what one might call the "intellect of the heart" (Mishkovskaya, Masterstvo • • . , p. 107). Oppor tunism in them is simply unthinkable. It is similarly unthinkable in the Bolkonakl circles, because the Bolkonekis are truly dignified and honest. Their intellectual pur suits and their endeavors toward moral betterment manifest themselves differently, but they are as kind and honorable as the Rostovs. So there are diverse types presented and preserved even in the various families. Tolstoy insisted that wherever a historical person speaks in his novel he has invented nothing (Tolstoy, "Some Words, . . p. 85*0, but it is a well-known fact that his Kutuzov is not the historically established hero. He differs greatly, for example, from the portrait described in the memoirs "Itaevnik Fartizanskich Deistvli 1812" by Denis Denisov (Mishkovskaya, p. 158). Tolstoy’s Kutuzov is in the first place a human being, and only then a general of war. He is simple, full of the common sense and wisdom of a natural man. Neither is Napoleon the hero of the 155 historical books. Tolstoy claimed the author's right to deal with his character, even historical character, con sidering "the complexity of his relations with all sides of life" (Tolstoy, "Some Words . . . p. 850), but he does not go into historical personages' developmsnt. They appear in the novel already crated and remain static. In Kutuzov, Tsar Alexander there is no change; in Napoleon a very slight one. After the Battle of Borodino the horrible appearance of the battlefield overcame his strength of mind. "A personal, human feeling for a brief moment got the better of the artificial phantasm of life he had served so long" (War and Peace. II, 288). Admittedly the change is not a lasting one, but it suggests perhaps an imminent development. The historical characters, very rich in delineation, uniquely drawn, remain the types who fit excellently in the author's world. Their human qualities do not diminish either their solidity, or their epic gran deur. There are 559 characters in War and Peace (Bichkov, p. 198), but it is hard to decide which one of them is the main character. Pierre and Andrew have been mentioned by various critics. There are opinions that neither of them is the main character, because the novel is about Russia 39 and Russia is the chief figure. Indeed, much space and 39(Jusev, p. 878; Fadiman, Foreword to War and Peace, p. xxiv. 156 time are devoted in the novel to describe the battles and the plain people, also the soldiers who are the representa tives of the nation* Pierre refers to the people by the name of "they" Pierre . . • knew • • • that he was talking of good ness and the possibility of being what thsv were. And they with their simple, kind, firm faoes surrounded his benefactor on all sides. (War and Peace* II, 331) Even people like Berg, notice "their" valor and heroism* "I can tell you, Papa, that suoh a heroic spirit, the truly antique valour of the Russian Army, whioh they— which it" Che corrected himself) "has shown." (II, 35*0 In the case of emergency the people know the right thing to do, and the entire population of Moscow streams out of the Capital as one man (II, 387). The people, of course, in every country, not only in Russia, are directly con nected with history. It affects them, subdues or advances them, but it is up to them to act in one way or another. No leader, no matter how inspiring, can entirely dominate the masses in a moment of vital and prolonged emergency. Acting one or another way shows a nation's moral strength. Tolstoy's Russia no doubt has a great moral capital. How ever, this individualization does not elevate it to the main character of the novel. It is not able to outshine the others neither by its vigor, its uniqueness, or its importance to the plot or the structure. The comparative equality of the .characters is atypical from the epic point of view, because the epic poet concentrates in his 157 narrative on a few illustrious figures and neglects the others. The main interest is always reserved for the great ones. Is then War and Peace a novel without a hero? In a usual, conventional sense the answer could be an affirma tive, unless by some unprecedented standard one could claim that the hero of War and Peace is Life, or the vital prin ciple of existence which according to the author is the Divine, the Eternal, the fynamic, manifesting itself in every situation, every particle or mass of matter, every creature, every human being. This essential and ever active spark of Life appearing in a myriad of shapes domi nates Tolstoy's novel and lends to it, in addition to others, a truly philosophical aspect. In spite of this, if the function of the novelist is to convey to the world the most thorough knowledge of human nature and "the happiest delineation of its varie- kn ties" Tolstoy no doubt fulfills this purpose. He tries to show the characters as complete as possible, portraying their positive and negative traits, the "da i net"— "yes and no" aspects (Mishkovskaya, p. 19). "Glavnaya cel iskustva viskazat pravdu o dushe cheloveka [The main pur pose of the art is to tell the truth about the soul of the ^Robert Liddell, A Treatise on the Novel (London: Jonathan Cape, 19*+7), p. 53* 158 human being]— said Tolstoy in his diary of May 17, 1876 (Mishkovskaya, p. 19)* To achieve~this he often uses the contrast technique. There are not only contrasting characters, but also there are contrasting features within the same character. Pierre is seeking diligently for the meaning of life, but he is also indolent and weak-willed. He can be described as having a chastity of soul, but is indulgent in sensuous passions. Andrew is ready to act, energetic, manly, even heroic, but at the same time introvert, sceptical. Dolokhov is capable of the meanest acts, basest impulses, yet his love for Sonya, who is beautiful and innocent, is pure and with honorable intentions. Hdl&ne covers up her vulgarity with a beautiful smile. Natasha, in whose soul live the most vigorous instincts of life, cries out Joy ously during the hunt when the hare is killed. Her features are changed and it is as if she acquires a "second face" (Merejkovski, p. 207). The "second face" technique is also used for the dying Prince Andrew "But two days ago t h i. s suddenly happened" (War and Peace. II, 510), says Natasha to Mary, indicating both the physical and psycho logical changes. Pierre, after the war, the captivity, and the suffering comes out "clean, smooth, and fresh"; Princess Lisa at her death acquires a reproaching smile. Tolstoy is not hesitant to portray the contrasts and antitheses in the characters1 motives, actions, or situa tions, Anatole1s seemingly sincere love-making to Natasha, his confident tenderness, affectionate look and smile.are actually not honest; his intentions are wicked. Nicholas Rostov admires the Tsar and is dreaming all the time of performing some task to distinguish himself in the Tsa^s eyes, to draw the TsarTs attention upon himself, hut when the moment comes and he sees the sovereign alone on the field of battle, sitting lonely and downcast, he has no courage to approach him (I, 375). Natasha begins to sob when Andrew proposes to her, because she is so happy (I, 637). Prince Andrew listens one evening to Natasha^ song, speaking at the same time with the ladles. Suddenly, in the midst of a phrase, he ceases speaking and feels tears choking him, a thing he thought could never happen to him. "He felt happy and at the same time sad" (I, 621). None is so full of contradictions as Count Rostopchin, the Governor of Moscow. The catalogue of his contradictory actions takes a page. Of course, they are described, but briefly, and yet not all of them (II, 319). Another device employed to delineate the character is the so-called "ostranneniye"— "making strange" (Mirsky, A History • . • , p. 263). Some critics called it "psychological eavesdropping" (Mirsky, p. 263). It con sists in never calling complex things by their accepted names; in seeing things as they were never seen before* By selecting some typical isolated detail "the particular, the individual, the local, and the temporary" is revealed "at the expense of the general and universal" (Mirsky, p. 263), Nicholas kisses Sonya during the dress-up party at Christmas. She is disguised as a Circassian with burnt- cork moustache and eyebrows. Sonya feels more at ease in the disguise; she knows that she looks well and the costume is veiy becoming to her. In other words she is changed not only outwardly, but inwardly too. Nicholas kisses her, and later thinks about the change in her, being reminded by the smell of burnt cork (War and Peace. I, 71*0. In this way the author also shows what is going on in Nicholas* heart— he is changed, he is in a process of making up his mind to marry her. In another instance the rabble of Moscow is searching for a scapegoat— for somebody to punish for the abandoning of Moscow. They want to vent their anger and to purge themselves of the disappointment. For a while it looks as if this victim is going to be the governor himself. He feels that and is looking for a sub stitute. Suddenly being reminded of a certain political prisoner by the name of Vereshchagin, he gives orders for him to be brought out before the mob end accuses the inno cent man as the chief Intriguer who caused the fall of the beloved city. The mob is hesitant and cannot decide to 161 proceed with the execution, hut in this atmosphere of sus picion and dangerous passions, Vereshchagin after an exclamation of surprise, utters a plaintive cry of pain, and this cry is fatal for him (II, 393)• The harrier of human feelings, strained to the utmost is broken, the crowd answers with an aigry roar which Indicates a sudden change from indecision to action, and the unhappy young man is executed• Sometimes a character reveals himself by a mannerism, or gesture, especially in the moments of deep spiritual or nervous tension. Natasha's restlessness, her purposeless orders expressing her longing (I, 697) > the mannerisms of the old Prince Bolkonski, angrily blowing his nose, or pacing his study for hours, suggest inward consternation. It is true that certain characters are portrayed by their very silence (Mishkovskaya, p. 51)* Tolstoy's silence can be very eloquent and effective, as is shown in the scene where the Princess Drubetskaya struggles with Catiohe for Count Bezukhov's will (War and Peace. I, 103)* Tolstoy's characters like to analyze themselves, and the author is fond of giving their thoughts and interior monologues which are frequently presented in a rhetorical quest ion-answer form. "Is it possible that I— the 'chit of a girl,' as everybody called me," thought Natasha— "is it possi ble that I am now to be the w .1 f e and the equal of this strange, dear, clever man'wHom even my father 162 looks up to? Can it be true? Can it be true that there can be no more playing with life . . . ? Yes, but what did he ask me? (I, 637) "Is this good or bad?" Pierre asked himself. "It is good for me, bad for another traveller. ..." (I, >+62) Despite Tolstoy*s careful and unique details, his attempt to include all the ramifications and contrasts, even surnames and names of insignificant men and women, to lay bare the characters* thoughts and motives, Turgenev and Merejkovski criticized Tolstoy, saying that his characters were not complete, because Tolstoy, "a great creator of human bodies is only to a modified extent a creator of human souls" (Merejkovski, p. 205). The characters seem to be outlined, put together and moulded, but not finished. Merejkovski compares Tolstoy's delineation of human indi vidualities to half-rounded human bodies in a bas-relief, which seem at times to be just going to issue and detach themselves from the flatness in which they are cast, but they never do (Merejkovski, p. 205). I believe that Tolstoy's method of characterization is a method taken from everyday life and from men's ways of communication and from their relationships. This resembles the process of "getting acquainted" among people in daily life. A person never sees a man entirely, but deduces him from physical appearances, mannerisms, actions, speeoh. So conclusions are made about the true self of this or that 163 i human being. If Pierre, Andrew, Natasha, Prince Mary are lacking the spiritual aspects— their souls— can nan be por trayed in fiction in all his entirety at all? If he can, then even a Tolstoy has rejected this temptation, and I believe that the master has done that, not because he was ignorant of human nature (as Turgenev and some other lfl critics suggest), but because he chose for his narrative a different method and form, and this method put upon him certain limitations, Tolstoy faithfully and consistently observes them throughout the entire work. He reveals his characters through physical traits and mannerisms, but he never removes them from the epic level. This helps them to maintain their dignity and grandeur. The writers of the roman nouveau use the same technique, although they ; go a great deal farther and, whereas Tolstoy was positive and objective, the new romanciers, refusing to interpret human inner life, draw near to scepticism. Nevertheless, every novelist knows "that manners indicate the largest intentions of men*s souls as well as the smallest.” Tolstoy knew a great deal about manners and about the human body. He has been called therefore the "poet of the flesh," and the master whose field is the "natural man" iii Merejkovski, p. 203; Gusev, p. 86l. l6*+ (Merejkoyski, p. 203). Tolstoy analyzed and portrayed the interrelationship of different branches of the senses, and he discovered what now seems an obvious fact, that the smile can be reflected not only in the face but also in the voice (Merejkovski, pp. 182-183). He was first to notice that horse-hoofs have sometimes "a transparent sound" (Merejkovski, pp. 182-183). Indeed, it is correct to speak Lo of Tolstoy as having written a dictionary of life. The poets of antiquity also wrote a true "dictionary of life," but Tolstoy brings it up-to-date. It is usually thought that the physical sensations as opposed to mental are con stant and do not develop throughout the history of total humanity, but this is not the case. We see and hear what our ancestors did not see or hear. However much the admirers of classical antiquity may complain of the physical degeneracy of the men of today, it is scarcely possible to doubt that we are creatures more keen of hearing and physically acute, than the heroes of the Iliad and the Odvasev. (Merejkovski, p. 186) The epic monumentality of Tolstoy's characters is strengthened by his frequent use of the epic epithet. The epic epithet is used with great art, imagination, and a variety of new aspects. Basically, the author uses some typical physical trait which he repeats and varies in repeating it. Princess Lisa's downy upper lip, too short ^Gilbert Phelps, Essay on Russian Novelists (New York: The Macmillan Co., 1911)» p. 19?. 165 for her teeth, keeps reappearing for twenty chapters. Napoleon and Speranskl have white plump hands; Verashtoh- agin, a thin neck with a prominent, thick vein in it; Princess Mary, luminous eyes and heavy gait; Tsar Alexander, round shoulders; Karataev is all "round”; Kutuzov, stout and clumsy. There are certain attitudes associated with a person which recur constantly. Princess Hdldne smiles radiantly; Anna Pavlovna smiles pensively and sadly when she speaks of the imperial family; Berg is continually silent if the subject does not relate to himself; Vera is embarrassingly correct; Milarodovich is inclined to model himself on Murat; Monsieur de Beausset is fond of travel, and, accordingly, is referred to as a man "so fond of travel." The epithet is, however, made very complex by the author’s variations which express not only the character » traits, but also moods, changes that occur or might occur, and suggest the thoughts and emotions in the persons por trayed. Korotkaya zubba Lizi Bolkonskoi to porchaet, to drozhit, to pechalno opuskaetsa, kazhdiy raz virazhaya razlichnoe dushevnoe sostoyaniye ee, stanovyac takim obrazom, verneishim zerkalom vnutrennei zhizni geroini v razlichniye minuti ee zhizni. (Mishkovskaya, p. 29) Tolstoy's method of delineating the characters shows the dual aspect of the novel and the epic techniques. Most of the characters from the upper class of society are 166 marked by the epic loftiness and soundness, but masses, simple soldiers, servants, peasants are also portrayed, and Russia emerges as a noble, Impressive personage. Many characters are greatly individualized; but some are types, like Anna Pavlovna— the hostess; "Uncle"— the country squire of lesser nobility, etc. The historical characters enter the novel firmly established, but not without some original touch by the author, not without an effulgence created by Tolstoy himself. No doubt, out of the intricate complexity of War and Peace Tolstoy's characters emerge alive and psychologically true. It is said that one of the most difficult tests for the fictitious character is to acquire a life outside the book in which he is created, especially in a different setting— like Odysseus in Dante's "Inferno"— and to pre serve thus a coherent individuality through time and space (Steiner, Tolstoy or Dostoevski, p. 10*0. Tolstoy's characters truly are distinguished by personalities of their own. They are so lifelike that they are classified with people of actual experience (Mirsky, p. 271), and for many readers they are like acquaintances from actual life. Tolstoy's characters are among the best representatives of the entire Russian fiction, of which it has been said that its essential characteristic is the expression of "the unqualified, unlimited and passionate intensity of 16 7 experience in the characters portrayed" (Auerbaoh, Mimesis. p. ^61). Style and Diction Tolstoy's style perfectly suits the expression of his theme and his experience. He writes his great work in prose, because the language of prose is better suited to record the immense variety of everyday life. He also has to, or wishes to, express certain philosophical concepts for which, since they are of a speculative nature, prose is a better medium. On the other hand, through the entire work, there is an attempt to achieve rhythm and to lend a truly poetic quality to the narrative. Tolstoy's repetitions, which have exasperated many of his readers and critics since the appearance of his novel, were nevertheless acclaimed by many as the vital, organic feature of the author's style. His phraseology is diffuse, sometimes fatiguing from too much repetition. . . . From our point of view this absence of style is an unpardonable defeat; but to me it appears a necessary consequence of realism which does away with all conventionality.^3 Besides repetitions, the epic question, the formulary com ments, especially the repeated phrases such as "there are always • . • "as always happens ..." "as is always lf3EUg6ne Melchior de Vogud, The Russian (Boston* D. Lo thorp Co., l8o7), p. 25** • Novelists 168 • . are used for the same ends. Tolstoy's language is ornamented with many simple and extended similes. Simile is apparent even in the formulary comments. ■ Metaphor, on the contrary, is rare. The compar isons, even if the author discusses some abstract ideas, are taken from everyday life and common experiences. This makes the style realistic and concrete. The epithet and the extensive use of adjectives are characteristic devices of War and Peace. Tolstoy likes to use compound words for his epithets. Thus he continues the antique epic epithet tradition, but at the same time, choosing a precise and meaningful word, he attempts to express the complexity of his character with one stroke. Looking for the accurate word which is so well represented by his epithets was always one of the main purposes of Tolstoy. Where it is impossible to express the subtle sensation in any other combination of words, Tolstoy uses concatena tion of sounds in an onomatopoetic manner. The sensations experienced by the wounded Prince Andrew are so unusual that the author describes them as a soft whispering voice incessantly and rhythmically repeating "'piti-piti-piti* llli ^Povesty misl do posledni stepeni tochnosti i yaoiosti zadacha chudozhnika, Pilena L. Tolatogo. soobranniye i redaktirovannlye P. Sergeenko, 4om 1, May 1910, Str. 336. 169 and then 'ti-ti,* and then again ’piti-piti-piti,* and *ti-ti* once more" (War and Peace. II, ^31)* Petja hears the sound of the sabre— "ozhep-zheg-zheg" (II, 620), The entire hunt-soene is made much more vivid and colorful by the yodle-like shouts: "Ulyulyulyu!" whispered Rostov pointing his lips . . . "Ulyulyul" cried Nicholas, • • • "Ulyulyulyulyul" shouted Nicholas, . • • "Karay, ulyulyul" he shouted. &3i) ) came the lonfi drawn cry, (I, All these shouts are accompanied by the "Uncle’s" constant phrase "Come on." An interesting technique which influences the style is sometimes— though rarely--the use of motifs that could be called "epic." They remind one very much of certain inci dents oocurring in the epic of antiquity, but they are modified and presented in a truly novelistic fashion. Such a motif is the incident describing the "Mashka’s sweet root" which recalls to the reader's mind the Lotos-Eaters from the Odyssey. The soldiers, because of the shortage of food wandered about the fields seeking it and dug it out with their sabres and ate it, though they were ordered not to do so, as it was a noxious plant. (I, 526) The poetic and rhythmical devices, or the epic motifs create "die Erhebung uber den Alltag, die Verwesentlichung, damit auch die Distanz vom Geschehen, fordert also das epische Zuschauen" (Seidler, Die Dichtung. p. 5*fl), 170 On the other hand, the author tries and invents all possible means to make his language as lifelike as possible. The dialogue is realistic and purposeful at the same time. It is also appropriate to the persons speaking. Aristo crats, especially Prince Andrew and Princess Mary, speak coherently, logically. If a person's thoughts or dreams are related, on the other hand, the author indicates the vivid and unconstant succession of thoughts and images in the character's mind by appropriate punctuation, broken phrases, unfinished sentences and other such devices. "Oh yesI Natasha . . . sabretache . . . sabre them. Whom? the hussars • • • A, the hussars with mous taches. . . . I thought about him too, just opposite Guryev* b house . . . Old Guryev . . . Oh. ..." (War and Peace. I, 3^7) The soldiers, peasants, and servants speak usually in dialect. Often their peculiar reluctance in expressing themselves is characteristically captured, as in the following quotation: "What is that? What do you make of it?" said Rostov to the hussar beside him. "That must be the enemy's camp!" The hussar did not reply. "Why don't you hear it?" Rostov asked again, after waiting for a reply. "Who can tell, your honour?" replied the hussar reluctantly. (I, 3*t8) The reaction of the soldier as well as his manner of expressing himself might seem colorless and dull, but with regard to the East-ISuropean lower class's wary attitudes, is very illustrative. Where the situation demands, the folklore elements are 171 brought In: songs, little jokes, epigrams* "Tit I say, Tit!" said the groom. "What?" answered the old man absent-mindedly* "Go Tit! Thresh a bit!" (I, 376) Some of the characters, for instance, Karataev, speak in proverbs. So does Kutuzov. Only his proverbs are many times in French* The language of the upper classes is interspersed with foreign words, phrases and sentences— most of the time French, but often German and very seldom English* This is done, of course, for the sake of verisimilitude and real ism. At the same time it gives the narrative a cosmopoli tan air, as the use of abstract and sclentific terms, names of scientists and historians, or philosophers lends to the narrative an intellectual flavor. The speeches, letters, manifestoes, diaries which are interwoven into the narrative are always kept in accordance with the character who pens or produces them. A good example is Kutuzov's address to the army (II, 667-668). The old commander does not show himself as a hackneyed orator, but as a fatherly old man who speaks to his sol diers simply, intelligibly, and cordially. Tolstoy's superb intellect, his keen insight into the matters of this world and his deep moral consciousness make him use irony though it is seldom bitter. The author is usually objective, trying most sincerely to show the truth, 172 and by his unique gift of expressing it, make his readers see some ridiculous or funny aspect of human life and behavior. Very rarely Tolstoy makes ridicule his chief aim; and, it seems to me, that in only one case this is apparent— namely, the ridiculous portrayal of the opera (pp. 760-762). Of course, it is well known that not only in War and Peace Tolstoy did aim his sharp criticism at the opera. He criticized it more explicitly in his What Is Art? Another intellectual aspect of Tolstoy's style is the insertion of a story about free-masonzy • It is by no means a superfluous episode; it is a necessary advancement of the plot, showing a new step in Pierre's development. The author presents it in his unique, all-inclusive style which, if it is occasionally ironic (Steiner, p. 207), is so only in the formerly discussed sense of this word. The author tries to inform the reader truthfully and fully. Tolstoy's style successfully reconciles within itself both the typically epic and purely novelistic tendencies in a unique way which is his own. Tone In the narrative structure of War and Peace the scenic method prevails. This accounts for the objective tone of the narrative. The amazing completeness of pre sented matter, its complexity revealed through an immense • 173 wealth of specific details, shows the author's mastery of his materials. He seems to stand above his matter and manipulate It freely and with detachment. Most of the time the background and the events are seen from somebody else's point of view. A well-known example of that is the little Malasha watching the council of war at Pili (War and Peace. II, 313) from the top of the huge Russian oven. Nevertheless, the author is always ready to intervene himself. These interventions are especially noticeable in the form of the formulary comments. At the beginning of the novel these comments are kept short and impassive, but by the end they are much longer and more emotional. Tolstoy even addresses the reader in the imperative form: "Let us imagine. . • ." (II, 589). Only in this very rare case at the end of the novel the author expresses his estimate and his criticism directly: And it is well for a people who do not— as the French did in 1813— salute according to all rules of art, and presenting the hilt of their rapier gracefully and politely, hand it to their magnanimous conqueror, but at the moment of trial, without asking what rules others have adopted in similar cases, simply and easily pick up the first cudgel that comes to hand, and strike with it till the feeling of resentment in their soul yields to a feeling of contempt and com passion. (II* 590) Additionally there are the author's satiric comments, ridicule of some nationalities, especially the Germans. The effect of Tolstoy's novel is realistic, but the work itself is only seemingly objective; the essence of it is 171 * subjective. Emotionally Tolstoy Is not able to show the Ironic attitude of the epic poet as defined by Thomas Mann (Supra, p. 36). If he talks impartially and serenely about the things "of this world," he becomes passionately involved when discussing his vision of the ultimate end of man, of the essence of life, of the oosmlc law and human relationship. Conclusion The magnitude of Tolstoy's vision, the tremendous dimensions of the novel itself, the subtle particularity of the details in it, make the general question of its form an extremely difficult one. At moments it seems that the product of Tolstoy's genius, prodigal as it is, defies analysis from the formal point of view, Percy lubbook after his study of War and Peace said: It is enough that such a world should have been pic tured. It is idle to look for proportion and design in a book that contains a world. On the other hand, P. P. Blackraur believes that War and Peace does have every quality which Henry James prescribed when he called for the deep-breathing economy of an organic form, "but has them in the different relation to executive form . . . LX yR, P. Blackmur, The Lion and the Honeycomb (Hew York: Harcourt Brace & Co., 19^5), p. 272. 175 Percy Lubbock suggests that it is impossible to find the subject of War and Peace, "What is the novel about?" (Lubbock, The Craft of Fiction, p. 28) he asks. He believed "that in this drama war and peace are episodic, not of the centre; the historic scene is used as a foil and back ground" (Lubbock, p. 30). He sees in the novel two stories; the story of Youth and Age and the story of war and peace, but cannot discover any angle at which the two stories will appear to merge in a single impression. "Neither is sub ordinate to the other, and there is nothing above them (what more could there be?)" (Lubbock, p. 33). The use of history, as described by Percy Lubbock, is typical of an epic poet and agrees with the working defini tion offered in this dissertation (supra,, pp. 51-52). The theme— Life itself— though extremely lofty, crystallizes itself in the novel clearly and vividly. All is directed to this one impression--to produce the effect of true life. Tolstoy*8 idea, that life is recurrent, pulsating and always renewing itself, is the unifying factor— the "sym bolism of man's general destiny" which masters Tolstoy's "perplexed stuff of epic material into unity." In attempt ing this lofty theme Tolstoy seems to fulfill Hegel's dream— the creation of a universal epic: ^Lascelles Abercrombie, The Epic (New York: George H. Doran Co., 191*0 » P* 17. 176 In der Rucks icht ware zwar die hochste Handlung dee Geistes die Weltgeeohlchte selber, und nan konnte dieee universelle Tat auf dem Schlachtfelde dee allgemeinen Geietee zu dem abeoluten Epoe verarbeiten wo lien., deeeen Held der Mensehengeist, der Humanus sein wurde, der sioh aue der Dumpfheit dee Bewuesteelne zur Weltgeeohlchte erzleht und erhebt; dooh eben seiner Univerealltat wegen ware dieeer St off su wenig individ- ualleierbar fur die Kunst. (Hegel, Isthetik, p. 958) Hegel saw that this dream— the writing of the universal epic was impossible to materialize in the pure, classic, epic form where the particularization could be only limited. Tolstoy realized this idea in his own way— the way of a genius. Prose and realistic tradition allowed him to treat this theme with much greater freedom, but the advantages of the epic form were not discarded. Tolstoy’s presentation of both— the characters and the environment— is greatly detailed and individualized; his attention to psychological aspects always on alert. At the same time the true, universal, the basically human is clearly and adequately defined. History and the super natural are handled in an original way; even philosophical aspects of life and history are not neglected; but socio logical interests are stressed in a typically novelistic manner, and modem problems of urban versus rural societies revealed. The fundamental design of War and Peace could be called epic; the execution of it, novelistic. Because of the basic unifying symbolism, in an epic sense which "awakens the sense of the mysterious, the 177 awful, and the sublime; through perilous crises • . • if7 uplifts and calms the strife of frail humanity," the author avoids the tragic aspect in his novel. The atmos phere is serene, and the serious attempt on the author's part at objectivity of tone results in a realistic effect, though at moments the reader becomes aware of the author's subjectivity and certain prejudices. However, these con tradictions are ultimately reconciled by the author's idea— that Life is made up of contradictions also. Therefore, the final product of Tolstoy's work is a most complete impression of life. It is impossible to create an epic when the world is changing rapidly (Seidler, p. 526). Paith in a sensible unifying factor in such circumstances is easily lost; neither can a steadfast philosophy be created under such conditions. The end of the nineteenth century, during which Tolstoy composed his War and Peace, despite many changes, was still comparatively stable in its ultimate beliefs, though too complex to be portrayed in a classic epic form. The ancient oral and literary epic heritage and the splendid development of the genre of the novel influenced Tolstoy in creating the form for his own majes tic experience of life. He stated, however, that, ^Gailey and Kurtz, Principles of Poetry, p. 178 basically, his form of the novel was influenced by the tradition of Russian literature. From Gogol*a Dead Souls to Dostoevski's House of the Dead, in the recent period of Russian literature there is not a single artistic prose work, rising at all above medioority, which quite fits into the form of a novel, epio, or story. (Tolstoy, "Some Words • ••>** p. 8m7) Thus the Russian novel, as a rule, continuously displays the epic influences and features. The question is raised now whether the form of the epic novel can be successfully used by Romaln Holland whose cultural heritage is Western Europe. CHAPTER IV THE TYPICALLY EPIC AND THE SPECIFICALLY NOVELISTIC ELEMENTS OF JEAN-CHRISTOPHE The "JomneT" Motif and the Symbolism of the Water i Romain Rolland visualized the life of the main charac-! ter of his novel as a Journey. Talking about the genesis of his book he remarked: Before deciding to write the first line of my book I carried it within me for years; Christophs did not start on his Journey until I had seen his road to the end.1 The motif of a Journey could be eventually regarded as a typically epic feature. The great epics such as The ^ Odyssey. The Aeneid. The Divine Comedy. The Lusiads. et i cetera contain yoyages and Journeys both literal and alls- ! gorical• As a matter of fact Romain Rolland starts Jean- Christophe with a quotation from Dante's epic as if suggest-r ing a formal or other influence of the great Italian poet upon his own work. The marked difference lies, however, in; Rolland*s subordinating the story of the Journey to the 1Living Authors, ed. Dilly Tante (New York, 1932), P. 3^7. 179 development of Jean-Chrietophe Krafft, the artist and the man. As a rule the hero Is very important in the epic, but his characterisation is kept in proportion and In due bal ance with background and plot* In Bomain Rolland*s novel the reader cannot forget the significance of Jean- Christophs*s progress to maturity, not even for a moment* It is true that the episode of "Antoinette," volume six, for a while overshadows the main oharacter, but only to show later how important the Jeannln family is to the destiny and growth of the German composer* The reader becomes aware of this importance at the end of the novel when the old Jean-Christophe labors to bring together Olivier's son and Grazia's daughter, when he watches their budding love, approves their union and attends their wedding* Georges and Aurora are like his own children; on the other hand, Christophs sees the extension and the pro jection of his dearest friends' selves into the future* He sees the continuance of their lives* This episode partly explains the worth of suffering and sacrifice: without the efforts of their predecessors the happiness of the two young people perhaps would have been more difficult, or even impossible; without the beautiful ties of friendship in the past the new union would have been less charming, less tender* Bomain Holland further deviates from the epic 181 traditional usage of the journey motif by comparing Jean- Christophe's life with a river. The image of water symbol izing life is an anoient one and could be considered one of the arch-typal images of humanity) because no one can attribute its origin to any particular nation or people. It is one of these basic and universal concepts buried in the depths of mankind's subconscious) revealing itself in an image, and expressing figuratively certain otherwise undeflnable aspects of existence, Rolland*s use of water as the symbol of the life and destiny of his hero lends to his work a universal aspect. The symbol appears in a great many variations: first, as the "Vater Rhein" which, in the ohlldhood days of the hero of the novel, flows, washing the walls of the house of his birth. In the moments of his first disappointments, grief and suffering, it gives to Jean-Christophs solace when he watches it with sad heart and tranquil eyes from the corner of his dirty staircase, "II avalt l'air sur de 2 son ohemln. • • •" It teaches him of freedom and reassures him of it. Nothing could stop it. After many years Christophs, an exile in a little Swiss town, is alone, sad at heart, losing his courage end 2Romain Rolland. Jeen-Christophe. Nouvelle Edition (Paris: Societd D'Editions Lltt4raires et Artistiques, Iiibrairie Ollendorf, 1926), p. 90, All the quotations and references are from this text. 182 energy end here again: Son aeul ami, le confident de see pensdes.dtait le fleuve qui traversalt la Tilley— le nine fleuve puieeant et paternal, qui lA-haut, dans le nord, balgnait sa villa natale. Christophs retrouvait aupr&s de lui laa souvenirs de ses rives d'enfance. . . . (H, 121) Jean-Christophe understands that his life and his entire destiny have become like this river, and the author sum marizes one of the great ideas of his book, expressing the mission of a European artist in this beautiful symbol: Entre las coteaux de Prance et la plaine allemande, le fleuve s'tftalt fraytf passage, ddbordant sur las prtfs, rongeant la base des collines. ramessant, absorbant les aaux des deux pays. Ainsl. 11 coulalt entre eux, non pour les sdparer, mais afln de les unlr; ils se marialent en lui. Et Christophs prit conscience, pour la preml&re fois, de son destin, qui dtait de oharrler, comma une artire, dans les peuples ennemis, toutes les forces de vie de l*une et 1'autre rives. (VII, 299) "De l'une et 1'autre”— the two sides of the river— is a very important concept, because it clarifies and deepens the symbolism of Jean-Christophe’s name which means the "carrier of Christ" the "carrier of God" as taken from the well-known Christian legend or myth of St. Christopher. The first part of the character's name might be associated with the name of John the Baptist who baptized Christ at the river and prepared the way for Him. So the author is saying that an artist prepares the way for God. Most Importantly the artist is the carrier of God. Therefore frequently the first name is discarded and the hero is 183 called simply "Christoph*•" This symbolism is handled very subtly. It crystallises itself fully at the end of the novel where St. Christopher is mentioned, and the author inserts before the last paragraphs an old couplet in Latin* Chris to fori faciem die quaounque tueris, Ilia nempe die non morte mala morieris. (X, *f08) He is suggesting the "happy" death of Christoph* who ful filled his mission as the "carrier of God," and, perhaps, the immortality and sterling quality of his achievement. At the most crucial moments in the narrative rain always appears so conspicuously that it cannot be disre garded or overlooked, because it is quite clear that the author's purpose is to draw the reader's attention to the change in the character's soul, no matter how small or how subtle the change may be. Just before the end of Christoph*'s childhood, when he is "growing a new skin," he writhes in convulsions observing himself and awaiting "de choses indlcibles, d'un miracle, d'un Lieu ..." Soudain, comae une doluse qui s'ouvre, dans la cour, derrifere lui, un ddluge d'eau, une plule lourde. large, droite, croula. Christoph*, hallucind, tendu ae tout son 6tre, frdmlt dans ses entrallies . . . Le voile se ddchlra. Ce fut un dblouissement. A la lueur de l'dclair, il vit, au fond de la nuit, il vit— il fut le Dieu. Le Dieu dtalt en lui: (III, 325) Then the crisis is over and he falls into a deep sleep and sleeps as he has not slept for long. The moment when Sabine and Christoph* become aware of their feelings for one another it starts raining (III, 352). iBk When they epend a night on the farm of Sabine's brother there is a storm and it rains through the entire night (III, 366), and when Sabine dies it rains for a whole week (III, 380). After the unfriendly situation in his native town goes on without any change, Christophe decides to leave for Paris, but cannot make up his mind to tell his mother about it. Finally he starts the fateful discussion. Outside it rainB (IV, 280). Under unusual circumstances he is made to flee his country. He leaves for Paris— "Le train partit. La pluie tomba" (IV, 311)* Practically there is no important situation in the novel which is not accompanied by rain or associated in one way or another with water. The climactic scene in Christophs's develop ment is also connected quite appropriately with this sym bol. Christophe convalesces in the Swiss mountains and it is there that he understands he is seeking Life, not Peace (X, 196); and Life is God (X, 203)* Even He cannot rest, because He also has to fight and conquer Nothingness. II faut toujours combattre. Lieu combat, lui aussi. Lieu est un conqudrant. II est un lion qui ddvore. Le nd&nt l'enserre, et Lieu le^terrasse. Et le rythme du combat fait l'harmonle supreme. (X, 201) The awareness of Life as action which comes upon the main character the author calls "the Resurrection." It is pre ceded by "the Annunciation" and the storm (X, 198). After wards there Is a deep silence in which only the music of the stream is heard— water eating away the rock (X, 198). 185 Christophe had felt lonely and abandoned. Now he hears within himself the voice of Cod telling him that he is not alone. He is fighting together with other "voices" of God, with other "arms." There is no alternative— either fight and conquer, persevere and prevail, or die. Even if he perishes, the fight will go on, because God has other "arms" and "voices." Christophe decides to fight on; this understanding gives him strength and resurrects him as. a servant of God. Christophe sortit de 1&, brlsd, bruld, vieilli de dix ans,— mais sauvd. Il avalt quitte Christophe, il avait dmigrd en Dieu. (X, 206) Finally, in his last moment Jean-Christophe again views his life as a river: Christophe se retrouve accoudd, & la fenetre de l'escalier. Toute sa vie ooulait sous ses yeux, comme le Rhin. Toute sa vie, toute ses vies, Louisa, Gottfried, Olivier, Sabine. . . • --- Et Christophe2 faisant un supreme effort pour soulever la tete,— (Dleul qu*elle dtait pesantel)— vit le fleuve ddbordd, couvrant les champs, roulant auguste, lent, presque immobile. Et, comme une lueur d'acier, au bord de l*horizon, semblalt courir vers lui une ligne de flots d'argent, qui tremblalent au solell. Le bruit de l'Oodan. . . • (X, *+06) Constantly in the novel all the important events asso ciated with the Essence of Life are connected with water in various forms— rain, storms, waterfalls, even little pools and creeks, mist, dew, et cetera. The language, especially the verbs often suggest the relationship to water either in the connoted or actual meaning. Thus one often reads 186 about the song of life "bubbling" in the nan, there are "murmuring streams" in people's souls, the "inward sea" and other suoh expressions. The symbol of water appearing in so many variations is used in a novelistic way, but in the final effect it deepens and completes the journey motif, strengthening the epio quality of the entire work. Belated Themes and the Author's Vision of Life' On his journey through life Christophe makes certain discoveries about his own nature and the nature of man, the artistic vocation and mission, and life in general. As a very sensitive child he is not able to sleep well and is plagued by monstrous shapes and phantoms of his own brain. During the day he journeys through a forest of sounds and is conscious of thousands of faces round him, calling to him, waiting to caress or devour him. Soon the idea of death becomes real and familiar. It brings terror and fear to his little heart. The image of death appears frequently during the narrative, and it is only at the end of the novel that the reader is told through the portrayal of Christophe*s thoughts, that death is natural and meaningful, even beneficent, because it is a beginning of a new life. Therefore, "Hosanna k la vie! Hosanna k la mort!" (X, **07). Man's development is a painful and a difficult matter, 187 since no one can ever boast being a master of himself with out the permission of the God of the battle* Of course, when one becomes aware of this fact, one has already achieved great heights of his life, because most of the time man is only aware unconsciously of the fact that he is not alone. Overwhelmed by hardships and the heat of the battle of life man is neither able to define the Living God who dwells in him, nor is he able to declare himself on His side. He only vaguely knows "— Eterael . . . Je suis • . Je suis" (V, 351). He feels the magic beams of the invis ible sun in his heart and even if he is an unbeliever he knows he is not alone (V, 527). As an artist Jean-Christophe succeeds in discovering his mission— to be a “carrier of God.” He learns that the highest art is above all temporary rules (X, 205)• It may be useful to other men, or it may not be. Apparently use less and dangerous in the existing order of the workaday world, it is "la force, elle est le feu; elle est l'dclair jailli du ciel" (X, 205). For this, it is sacred. The author compares it with the sun which is neither moral or immoral. It is that which is. It lightens the darkness of space (X, 205). As a rule the human lot is not painless and tranquil. Suffering and struggle are normal. Men and women are equally plagued by evil and unhappiness. It is difficult 188 to be a woman, much more difficult than to be a man, Madame Amaud tells Christophe. Nor him this Is quite unexpected, because she Is seemingly one of the happiest and most balanced of individuals. Yet she maintainst Nous, quand nous sommes heureuses d'une fag on, nous regrettons 1'autre fagon. Nous avons plusieure Ames. Vous, vous n'en are2 qu'une, plus vigoureuse, souvent brutal©, et m£me monstrueuse. . . . Vous nous faites blen du mal, sans vous en douter. (VIII, **70) A great variety of characters from both sexes of all ages, from different social classes, nationalities, professions, and talents testify that suffering is the human lot. Man lives by inflicting evil upon his fellow men and fellow creatures. Even if he does not want to do this he is com pelled to do it in order to exist. One must kill to live, if, at the time, there is no other means of living, but the man who kills for the sake of killing is a miscreant (X, 189). Indeed, the only good action is not to do evil (X, 386), but it is very seldom that one can avoid it. Pretez A 1'animal une lueur de raison, imaginez le rSve affreux qu'est le monde pour lui: cea hommes indif f A rente, aveugles et sourds, qui l'dgorgent, l'dventrent, le trongonnent, le culsent vlvant, s'amusent de ses contorsions de douleur. (IX, 190) On the other hand, nature is not friendly either to man or to other creatures of its realm. Des millions d'insectes invisibles rongeaient, per- foraient, rddusaient en poussi&re ce qui avait ettf la vie. • • • Et le silence de oes combats 1 . . . 0 paix de la nature, masque tragique qui recouvre le visage douloureux et cruel de la Vie. (X, 192) 189 Such a view of nature is, of course, not epic. The eplo world and the epic character coexist with nature. Nature is full of wonders and it is matter-of-fact. It cannot he analyzed or its dual aspect spoken of with such keen intellectual candor. Though quite sure of his vocation, Jean-Christophe is many times not quite confident that he will he ahle to win. Only at the very end of the hook he realizes that as an artist he belongs to the army which is never vanquished (X, 200-201). God conquers with His "arms" and his "voices'* despite the fact that some individuals of this army become tired or fall in the battle. Therefore, the main thing is to persevere, to go on without fear or rest, even unto death. Conquering souls are rare; the effort, the sacri fices immense, and the reward in terms of this world scanty and insignificant. Antoinette, Louisa, Schulz, and Olivier, even Grazia and Christophe himself hear testimony to this. Although Christophe Krafft dies with the conviction that he has mastered his destiny, the struggle has been extremely difficult, the margin of hie victory rather narrow. No, life according to the author is not an easy matter and the final outcome for the individual is far from sure. In this way, though believing in Divine Providence, Romain Rolland develops Tolstoy's idea of man's perpetual struggle for personal freedom. In War and Peace it appears only as a germ, tout in Jean-Christophe it grows fully and receives an interesting interpretation• Holland's novel is a magnificent paean to the freedom of the individual, Jean-Christophe is working, struggling, growing morally, intellectually, professionally through his own persever ance, patience, will, suffering, tout at the same time he feels that an unknown hand guides him (V, 527). Further more there is a number of accidents and chance happenings and there are currents carrying the masses of the people— "la force aveugle et sure" (IX, 50), Also the fatalistic philosophies of Grazia, Christophe, Olivier and Sidonie illustrate this view. The only help and solace in the territole struggle of life is man's capacity for love and friendship. Men are not atole to feel one another's sufferings and pains, tout they can help each other toy feeling true compassion, toy giving encouragement. Christophe's genius is atole to develop because of help and love of many peoples "— M&re, amantes, amis, . , (X, *f06). Also the artistic talent will flourish and be blessed with greater inspiration and fruitfulness when it is subscribing to the rule of kind ness. Nevertheless the true artist, toy virtue of his art, is a giver of blessings because he expresses the authentic reality— the true and the beautiful which soothes his fellow men's pains, gives solace, purges the violent 191 passions. Thus one is connected with the other— love helps to develop creativity; creativity bears fruits of immense value to life. The only requirement— one should not be passive• An Artist as an Epic Hero Can this theme, the life and development of an artist, be considered a typical epic theme, especially since it is conceived in terms of a journey— the journey overshadowed by Jean-Christophe's development which predominates the entire novel? As a rule the epic hero does not develop much, because he appears in the beginning with established 3 character. The fact that Jean-Christophe Krafft is an artist and a genius makes this novel deviate still more from the epic form, because the hero is an exceptional per son; his experiences not equivalent to the experiences of the average man. Certainly, the creative and imaginative approach is possible and attainable to nearly everyone, but still the outlook and activities of the genius remain unique. Can an artist serve as an ideal for the average man and thus have a universal appeal? It is hard to answer this question directly and at once. With regard to Rolland's idealistic handling of this theme, there is ^Herbert Seidler, Die Diohtung (Stuttgart: Alfred Kroner Verlag, 1959), p. 5£7. something of the future in his work. The author's sincere passionate belief in the mission of the artist is prophetic,j but paradoxically it is not out of place in this realistic novel. Indeed, it is but pertinent and not unreal, since I there is a general longing for an expectation of a "golden 1 age" of peace and creativity in many myths by various peoples. In such an age the artist would be the hero. The* Russian philosopher Berdyaev believes: The world is passing through three epochs of divine revelation: the revelation of the law (the Father), the revelation of redemption (the Son) and the reve lation of creativity (the Spirit). In the Age of Creativity (the philosopher maintains) the divinity of man's creative nature is finally revealed and divine power becomes human power (Berdyaev, p. 321) becauseJ "Not only is God in man but man is the image of God: in ! him divine development is realized. . . . Man is not only a small universe, but a small God" (Berdyaev, p. 321). This statement can be compared with Jean-Christophe's ideas concerning God and himself, who after he leaves behind him the humiliations of the day in the vivid silence of his heart always feels the presence of his eternal Being, of his God (V, 351)• Sometimes even if he denies Him, he is still filled with this presence. Jean-Christophs*s friends L. Nicolas Berdyaev, The Meaning of the Creative Act (New Tork: Harper A Brothers, p. 320. 193 see it and one of them, L'Abbd Corneille, tells him with a smile that he bears God on his shoulders like his namesake St. Christopher without knowing it. Very early in his life Jean-Christophe has a mystical experience. During a storm "A la lueur de 1*Eclair, il vit, au fond de la nuit, il vit— il fut le Dieu. Le Dieu dtalt en luix • • • Le monde se ruait en Lui, comme une cataracte" (III, 325). There is an obvious similarity in Berdyaev's and Rolland's views on the nature of the artist and his rela tionship with God. Nevertheless the development of Romain Rolland's hero is extremely difficult and painful. There is but little of the idyllic or pastoral about it. The author's view of life as a difficult matter still compli cates it. Rolland, even if he is able to set an ideal for the future, nevertheless deals with the modem world and the present conditions of life. With this world as the background the theme of the artist's development can hardly be dealt with in an epic framework. There are obvious difficulties and the form has to be expanded, modified, altered. To what extent the typical epic elements prevail in Rolland's novel and to what extent they are substituted or modified by the indicative novelistic devices can be better understood by the examination of the design and the other formal aspects of the work itself. 19^ Scope Romain Holland's- Jean-Christophe is a novel of tre mendous scope. Robert Pick says: Planned as the spiritual history of a sensitive single-hearted artist "bruising himself against the rocks of life,” this novel had grown to a complete, three-dimensional panorama of Europe at the turn of the oentury.' Despite its being the most representative picture of Europe at the time, this novel is neither intended nor created to be a self-contained, all-inclusive world. On the contrary the author eliminates the aspects which do not help to explain or portray the causes and the factors of the hero's development. If some other character in the novel is no longer connected with Jean-Christophe'8 life, he is dropped without much ado. Anna Braun, such an interesting and seemingly very important personage, is dismissed at the end with a few sentences. Ada gets even less attention from the author. Christophe learns about her death from the graveyard stone when visiting his native German town many years after their parting. The reader never learns about the lives and fates of Jean-Christophe's brothers, especi ally Ernst. Such practices are typical of the Bildungs- roman. Wo nun eln soloher Lebensweg innerer Forming durch Auseinandersetzung mit und Elnbau von Kulturgutern 1m weltesten Slnne diohterisoh gestaltet wlrd, da ^Robert Pick, "Romain RoHand,” Saturday Review of Literature, XXXV (January 13, 19^5;, 13. 195 spreohen wir vom Bildungsroman. Dor Blick elnes solchen Romans mag enger besehrankt sein als der elnes groszen Gesellschaftsromans; er gewinnt aber an Tiefe und Innensloht. (Soldier, p. 559) Romaln Holland (In accordance to such rules) Is very thorough in the portrayal of the character's growth and In the presentation of the stimuli, agents and factors con nected with it. He shows an immense first-hand knowledge of people and situations. His gifts of observation and his insight into a human soul are marvelous. Therefore he is able to implement Henry James' recommendation to the nove list: "Remember that your first duty is to be as oomplete as possible— to make as perfect a work."^ Nevertheless he is not a mere recorder of facts. Rolland's penetrating vision is not limited to the individual's soul or to human society. He feels the rhythm of the universe, grasps the principle of its existence and divines the cosmic laws. Fully aware of its continuous movement he attributes dynamic temper even to the moral and intellectual disposi tions . For Holland, history, psychology, art, morality, religion are in constant movement, ana thus if an adequate notion of reality is to be presented, the writer must embrace as wide a field as possible, so that change, renewal, development and the inter relation of seemingly isolated moments can be ^Henry James, "The Art of Fiction," in Approaches to the Novel. Robert Scholes (San Francisco: Chandler "Pub lishing Co., 1961), p. 312. 196 displayed in action. "Omnia praetereunt, redeunt, nihil inter! t."' i i Though these ideas remind one of Bergson and are also foundj in Proust as well as in the other intellectuals of that time, Holland arrived at them independently. He was intimately acquainted with the thought of the Pre-Socratics, with Goethe*s "Stlrb und Werdel" from West-Ostllchen Divan and the Hindu philosophies (Crulckshank, p. 385). The awareness of flux, of ebb and flow conditions the entire background. It is one of the ideas running through the entire novel, but it does not become the main thesis as in Tolstoy where it is the frame upon which is built the entire structure of War a n d Peace— the world so complete and self-contained. Nevertheless this idea lends epic I flavor and solidity to Rolland's novel. In Jettn-ChyjBtophe there is no compression of the scope in the epic manner. Selection of material is made, but on a different principle. Since the essential con sideration is the main character and his development, the material is included or screened out in accordance with this purpose. Such practices conform entirely to Rolland's aesthetic theoxy. He maintains that artistic creation is a i progression from unity to multiplicity rather than a ?John Crulckshank, "The Nature of Artistic Creation in the Works of Roma in Holland," The Modem Language Review. XLVI (July-October, 1951), 385. 197 reduction of multiplicity to unity: Je trouve qu'il faut etre un raisonneur pour s'occuper, pour s'apereevoir meme de cet antagonieme de l'unity et de la multiplicity, et pour vouloir ramener la mul tiplicity k 1 'unitd. C'est une ldye qui ne peut venlr au cerveau qua d'un homme dypourvu de sentiment artis- tique. Lfartiste ne sent ni la supyrlorlty ni I • inferiority de la nature; il sent la nature* L'artiste, pour moi, eat avant tout une sensibility • II a une vie surabondante, k laquelle ne suffit pas sa personnelityj il s*efforoe done de la briser, de tout sentir, ou avec tout son etre, ou arec tel ou tel sens particulier. Loin de ramener la multiplicity & 1'unity, il ramfene au contralre son unity k la multi plicity.” Because of this view and the necessity to universalize (since the world is too many-sided, too varied, and in con stant change), Romain Rolland does not use the typical epic motifs to build the scope. There is no scenic portrayal of arrivals, partings, feasts, vlsltings, etc. If the author chooses to describe them, the center of such narrative— not a portrayal— is Jean-Christophe, the main character of the novel. Thus the description of Christophs's first conoert is concentrated on the presentation of the emotions and feelings of the child prodigy (I, 130-138). The situation is truly pathetic and nearly tragic, because the poor little boy cuts a ridiculous figure in the event. After the concert, when the parents and the neighbours celebrate in honor of the performance, no one pays any attention to p Romain Rolland, Diary for 1887 as quoted in John Crulckshank, "Nature . • • ,M p. 386. poor Christophe. Neither the menu nor other accompaniments' of the friendly, proud gathering are mentioned by the author, but there is a great emphasis upon the description of the tumult that goes on in the soul of this little boy, which has a profound sense of justice (I, 136). Such is the irony of fate that at the end of the evening the star of the concert is "fouettd, emportd dans sa chambre, i deshabille, et mis au lit" (I, 137). Nov his thoughts and 1 his dreams in a half-awake state are minutely described* The author shows the tremendous sensitivity and the budding I greatness in a little one who will grow to be great* In a 1 similar manner are portrayed other concerts which I Christophe gives or attends, his visits to his friends* i homes, theaters, or the salons of Parisian society* Always I j an emotion or process going on in Jean-Christophe's soul isj singled out, and the focus of the narrative is directed upon it* Another very good example even more subtle and shadowy is Christophe*s meetings with Grazia in Paris. He attends the "At Home" at the Austrian Embassy. The reader neither sees Christophe arriving nor is he able to watch any other guests or hear what they are talking about, nor can he enjoy the description of the environment. The con cert has just started* Suddenly on hearing Schubert's "Der Lindenbaum," Christophe is carried away by strong emotion and withdraws into a little room apart: 199 Soudain. comma le vieil arbre de Schubert qul fris- sonne, 11 ee mlt & trembler, sane raison. II resta quelques secondss ainsl, tree p&le, sane bouger. Pals, le voile de ses yeux ee dleelpant, 11 Tit devant lul. dans la glace, "1'amie" qul le regardalt. • • • L'amle? Qul tftalt-elle? Une seule chose 11 voyalt: la divine bontl de son sourlre compatiasant. (VIII, if81) However, the truly epic among such descriptions la Jean-Christophe's hospitable entertainment by Schulz. The dinner Is like sui exhibition of the unforgettable cooking of Germany, honest said unsophisticated, with s&l the scents of all the herbs, said thick sauces, substantial soups, wonderful carp, sauerkraut, goose, plain csrices,' aniseed and caraway seed bread (IV, 2^1). The dinner itself is sur rounded with a wonderful happy atmosphere. Christophe does splendid justice to the talent of Salome, the cook, watch ing by the kitchen door, never missing a bite and roaring with laughter. Toasts are proposed in honor of Christophe, "la noble musique," the friends, said eventually the health of dame Salome "qui en devint crsunoisie" (IV, 2*f3). Songs are sung, verses recited. The happy event is brought to a climax by the arrival of Dr. Pottpetschmidt, a truly epic figure. He had sent away his patients and cancelled his business appointments said tsiken the first train to hasten his return in order to attend the meeting. Fabulously stout, and tall in proportion, . . . la tete carrle, les oheveux roux, tallies ras, la figure ras6e, grelde, gros yeux, gros nez, grosses ldvres, double menton, le cou court, le dos a'une 200 largeur monstrueuse, le ventre comma un tonneau, lea bras dcartds du corps, lea pleda et lea mains dnormes, un gigantesque amaa de chair, ddformd par l'abus de la mangeaille et de la bl&re, un de cea pots-iL-tabac, & face humaine• comme on en voit rouler parfoia dana lea rues dee villes de Bavi&re, qui gardent le secret de oette race d*hommes, obtenue par un syst&me de gavage analogue & celui dea volallles mi sea dana une dpinette. (IV, 2*f7) Christophe is afraid that this "Palstaff” is going to murder his Lieder. but an opposite thing happens. No one, not even the professional singers, were able to sing his songs with such impulse and passion. Christophe marvels and realizes that he stands here before a dilemma or a paradox, because he sees that Pottpetschmidt does not understand or feel the true intentions of the composer. He is one of these primitive children in whom the strong natural instinct spontaneously guesses and enjoys noble things. Veiy soon this epic incident ends with the description of Christophe*s sad departure charged with the lurid anxiety of the feeble and ailing but most amiable and worthy Herr Professor Schulz. The old man dies soon thereafter from an ailment of the lungs contracted or rather renewed during the afternoon walk with Christophe and Kunz. The national aspect and the historical moment asso ciated with it is used in this novel in an original way, but different from that of the epic. Jean-Christophe, bom in Germany, feels himself a German, though a long time ago one of his ancestors came from Antwerp (I, *tl). He has 201 lived for a long time in Prance and lovee Prance, above all Paris, which shines afar off, the never-dying light of a classic tradition, and like many a German he turns to it for cultural reciprocal exchange and completion (X, 370)• The greater Christophe*s wealth of Germanic dreams, the more he needs Latin olarlty of mind and order (X, 371). In Prance Christophe has the joy of better knowledge of him self and only in Prance is he wholly himself (X, 371). Jean-Christophe also learns to love and esteem Italy. Whereas the Germans are overwhelmed by their souls, and whereas the strange mixture of frivolity and intellectual ity of the Prench is accompanied by a fever of the nerves and a perpetual agitation of the mind, the brain of the Italians knows how to rest (X, 236). The Italians collabo rate with nature; they paint with the sunlight (X, 231). Luml&re, sang du monde, fleuve de vie, qui, par nos yeux, nos narlnes, nos l&vres, tous les pores de la peau, t'infiltree dans la chair, lumidre plus ndces- saire & la vie que le pain,--qui te volt dtfvetue de tee voiles du Nord, pure, brulante et nue, se demande comment il a jamais pu vivre sans te posseder, et salt qu'il ne pourra plus jamais vivre sans te ddslrer. (X, 230-231) Christophe's mind and his soul are fertilized by Rome and Italy and he comes back to live and die in Paris with reawakened creative strength which does not leave him until the end. Moreover, it is through his stay in Italy and his love of Grazia that he begins truly to understand and appreciate Latin art. 202 Switzerland also plays a great part in Jean- Christophe 's development. It is like a haven of rest where the bodily strength and moral equilibrium are restored. It is where he finds his God again, grasps that he is at His mercy, and declares himself on His side, and that no man more than the creative artist feels at the mercy of God; for if he is truly great, he will say only what the Spirit bids him (X, 207)• He comes to this awarenesB in this land of freedom. Formerly, in the days of Goethe, Home was such a place. In Christophe's time only the Alps are left. They do not have the poetic radiance and glamor of the Eternal City, but Christophe can never forget that here his strength was renewed and here God appeared to him in the Burning Bush. Whenever he goes to Switzerland he feels gratitude and faith (X, 321). Thus all these countries have an important influence upon the growth of the main character and in a true sense of the word Christophe is not a German, but a European. Without the contact with other countries, without friend ship of the people from various nationalities it would have been difficult for Christophe to become such a great artist. Besides there are foreign influences acted upon him through literature and philosophy. He becomes familiar with the great thoughts of the greatest men of the world. Tolstoy's, Goethe's, and Shakespeare's names are often mentioned in 203 the novel, as well as those of Hindu and other Eastern philosophers. This lends the novel a cosmopolitan flavor1 One'8 nationality, one's land, are extremely Important, but "II est quelque chose de plus grand que la patrie, c'est la conscience humaine" (X, 2*+l), and this human conscience bids the artist to see that nations complement each other, that men coming from the same source of Creation are brothers and ought to be in practical life. Since the author's attention is focused on the con temporary scene where the growth of his hero is taking place, there is no necessity to go to the historical past, but rather it is important to examine and to evaluate the events which take place in the period described. Rolland does that with thorough completeness and great insight. The historio-political-social moments are evaluated some times from the author's point of view, sometimes from the point of view of the main character. It is rarely that they are seen and commented on by the other characters. As soon as Christophe starts composing and learning other composers* work, he begins passing judgments not only upon the works themselves, but also upon their com posers and their countries. First, he accuses Germans of servility, inconsistency, formal shallowness, ceremonious manners and little mental hypocrisies. Only in France, to which he turns for refuge as many other Germans in distress 2Ch have done before him, does he discover that Germans have noble souls and great virtues (V, **97)* Now their foibles are covered by the distance of space and time. Equally, the actual confrontation with the Trench destroys Christophe's preconceived ideas and prejudices about the French people. He has thought, as so many other people before him, that the French are well-balanced, sociable, tolerant, liberty-loving, but he finds them luna tics with their abstract ideas, their diseased logic, ready to sacrifice themselves and everybody else for one of their syllogisms (V, *+6l). Nowhere in the world are there char acters more coldly and atrociously despotic in their passion for intellect, or their passion for always being in the right (V, *+6l). Nevertheless Christophe feels that there must be another France which is much more representa tive of the true spirit of its people • Through Olivier he discovers this "other" France. He sees very soon that Olivier’s country is the great garden of European civiliza tion (VII, 167) not only because of its fruitful soil, but also through the labors of an indefatigable people. It is here in France that Jean-Christophe finds a faithful friend who helps him in his artistic vocation and here comes the recognition of his work which spreads through Europe and conquers his own country. He gradually gains an insight into the magnitude of the French 205 idealistic love of liberty. Boundless liberty and laws of reason seem at first a paradox, impossible to exist with or adhere to, yet gradually he grows accustomed to them. Through Olivier he becomes familiar with the lofty heights of French thought and he who thought himself free, because he had broken away from all laws save those of his own con science, now becomes fearfully conscious of how little 1b he free compared with these Frenchmen who are emancipated from every absolute law of mind, from every categorical imperative (VII, 16*+). Stimulated by Olivier*s explanations, his idealism and insight, he visualizes now a society arranged in the image of a tremendous mountain (VII, 166-167). On the peak of it there dwell side by side those elect who fight for the living faith, whatever faith it be. They wage a holy war against ignorance, disease, and poverty and eventually con quer the light, marking out roads in the air. Their fight is the titanic struggle between Science and Nature which is being tamed. Here belong also great artists, martyrs and saints of the faith. Lower are the silent ones— the brave and humble hearts, who can climb no farther, being held bound in a dull and difficult existence, while in secret they bum away in obscure devotion. Lower still, in a narrow gorge between rocky crags, the fanatics of abstract ideas and blind instincts wrestle endlessly without even suspecting that they may be something beyond the walls and the rooks. Still lower are swamps with brutish beasts wallowing in the mire; and everywhere scattered around the mountain are the fresh, new flowers of art. Round this mountain the people are "tending their gardens" and paying no heed to any of these elect who strive to engage their attention. The people do not act in the true sense of the word; they react in one way or another against all the exaggerations which disturb their peace of mind. Neverthe less they absorb all the thoughts and ideas and keep them alive in their hearts; they carry and preserve them and lend them back to the "climbers" of the mountain of the future generations. Thus in a mysterious way all share the thoughts of the previous generations who do not die because of the conservativism of the people around the mountain• The author uses also another symbol— the house in which Olivier and Christophe lodge. He describes through it the life and nature of the French middle class. Indus try, honesty, and individualism of the French are well expressed. Everybody in the house minds his own business; most of the tenants are extremely lonely and live their lives with their prejudices and unchangeable habits. Christophe gets acquainted with all of the inhabitants, helps them and through them learns what France is. On the 207 other hand, he sees how people are alike everywhere. Sorrows, hard work, disillusionment, sacrifice are the common lot throughout the world. Therefore, the symbol of the mountain, with the plains and the garden around it, could be taken as a symbol for entire humanity. Though not equally inhabited, there are mountains with scientists and poets, the solitary artists languishing in silence in every society. There are revolu tionaries, the great believers, and the great sceptics, and the people close to the soil. The elect are the driving force of Prance as they are the driving force of mankind, though at first glance they may appear as having no force of action at all. The so-called elite do not count, because it is the elect of Prance (and presumably of the other nations) that is able to regenerate itself and influ ence the entire European life and cultural developments. At the end, seeing and understanding how faithfully and conscientiously the French fulfill their mission as a nation, Christophe exclaims: "Mais quels bons travailleursl — quel sens de la beautdl" (X, 26V). Thus every nation has its mission and contributes its share. The faith and practicality, the steadfastness, even the Puritanism of the Swiss; the tranquility, light and joyous appreciation of beauty of the Italians; the intuitive knowledge of nature and the imagination of Germany come to fruition when 208 seasoned with the sense of order, the intellectualism, the patience and endurance of the French. At the end the author sees a fast-moving world, the swift evolution of thoughts. The stock of prejudices and hopes which in the old days were enough to feed humanity for twenty years is now being exhausted in five years and the generations are galloping forward. Indeed, Romain Rolland is marvelously optimistic for his own time, and for us, because of his emphasis upon the national cultures, he is the most modern. While living in France Christophe also becomes acquainted with contemporary political events, because they inevitably touch him personally. The author describes how the seemingly divided and inactive French unite instan taneously against the common enemy when the relations between France and Germany become strained. The descrip tion of this situation is given by portraying the relation ship, anxiety and reactions of Olivier and Christophe. Not the concrete details again, but its mood, its intellectual background is presented (VII, 281-296). When the hostility falls off, both Christophe and Olivier turn their attentions to social questions. The author maintains that every generation has its "modem" problem and at this particular moment it is the social question which achieves this popularity. It is discussed in drawing-rooms, in the theaters, in novels (IX, 15). 209 The young people, because of the superfluity of their ener gies, like to turn to battle against injustice. Unfortun ately the results are most ironic, because the battles against social injustice unconsciously are tending to pro- % duce fresh injustices. Very soon people tire of these battles, because when they drag out, there is time for analysis. In the analysis faith rarely can hold out long and thus true heroism among the masses is rare, since La fol est une force hdrolque; son feu n'a jamais br&ld que quelques torches humaines; elles-memes vacillent souvent. Lee apdtres, les prophotos et Jdsus ont doutd. Les autres ne sont que des reflets,— sauf h certalnes heures de sdcheresse des ames, oh quelques dtincelles tombdes d'une grande torche embrasent toute la plaine; puis, l'lnoendie s'dteint, et l'on ne volt plus luire que des charbons sous la cendre. (IX, 25) Therefore, some are revolutionaries just to be in the fashion, some are so out of snobbishness, some from shyness; some from hatred, others from love; some from the need to be heroic, some from mere slavishness (IX, 26). In any case heroism exists, but it is very rare on account of the frailty of human nature. Besides that, there is a certain cosmic force which moves the herd of humanity (V, 50), erasing individual wills and motives. Olivier who recog nizes this cosmic force and foresees that a social revolu tion will achieve its end through defeat as well as through victory (IX, 50), and he who loves peace and harmony is fated to open the gates for the free action of this force 210 and to release the springs of the battle In which he Is killed. The battle which ensues Is In no way epically drawn. It Is but a skirmish, a brawl with the police. Neither this battle nor Christophe*s encounter in the German village with the soldiers (V, 295~305) is epic (Hegel, supra. p. 89)* The only battles of epic dimensions are those which occur in Jean-Christophe*s soul, especially his fight against his passion for Anna Braun and the climactic encounter with Nothingness. Apathy threatens to consume his creative powers and destroy life in him. Here Christophe cries to God in a magnificent and tragic prayer and like Job of the Old Testament is confronted with Him (X, 185). God reveals Himself to Christophe as the God of Battle and it is here that the supernatural element comes in. Obviously Jean-Christophe*s struggle with this envir onment, with nature, with himself, so very subtle and fre quently unnoticed by the outward world, is truly of epic greatness and of epic dignity. The great heroes, for the author, are found among those who suffer and renounce, who act gratuitously, create, discover, believe, and endure. Their rewards are hardly perceivable in this world, because they hardly exist at all; but because of their titanic struggle, these people become different; they become "of God"; nevertheless their cares and concerns still remain 211 the welfare and happiness of all humanity. Neither the "moment of history" nor "a body of religi ous myth"'* is centrally engaged in Jean-Chrlstophe. Romain Rolland uses political, historical and sociological factors as the background of his work, but does not make a drama out of them filled with passion and strength of mind. He relates, evaluates and interprets this background in a sub jective and a most personal way. His usage of the Saint Christopher legend is original and unique, but deviates from the accepted interpretation of the religious, the Christian, more specifically the Catholic, mythology. Romain Rolland uses it as a symbol to illustrate his own myth of the artist-carrier of God. The artist, according to the author, is of immense value to humanity, since his intentions are to serve mankind. To befriend humanity? Naturally. To battle for the oppressed? As a matter of course. But as artist, not as propagandist. Life is larger them any single programme, however large. Let the artist create in beauty and his beauty becomes a truth which liberates the oppressed, not in his own generation merely, but in all generations.10 The Russian critic T. L, Motileva speaking about Tolstoy’s influence on Rolland says that the French novelist, wanting ^George Steiner, Tolstoy or Dostoevsky. An Essay in the Old Criticism (New York: Alfred A.. Knopf, 1959) ? p. 5. ^•°Lucien Price, "Saga of Symphonle of Romain Rolland," The Atlantic Monthly. CXXXVII (January-June, 1926), 80. 212 to Imitate War and Peace, was not able to write a contem- ! porary Trench epic, because of the feebleness in that par- i tioular epoch of the Trench democratic-socialistic movement and of Rolland's personal disengagement, even separation from the Trench masses. Romen Roll an na rubezha dvuch stoletii metohtal napisat sovremennuyu francuzkuyu epopeyu po obrazdu "Voini 1 mira." No emu bilo trudno sozdat realis- titcheslciy obraz naroda ottohasti vsledstvie sobat- vennol otorvannostl ot narodnoi zhizni; ottohasti vsledstviye otnosltelnoi slabostl francuzkogo demo- kratltcheshogo 1 soclalistitcheshogo dvizhenia v tu epochu.11 It seems to me, however, that since Rolland's notion of heroism is personal, his handling of history, political, and sociological aspects novelistic, his use of mythology j f original and unique, but profound, he is able to create his | i i own version of the epic. The artistry and authenticity of | Rolland's epic form still must be fully realized and appreciated. The scope of Jean-Christophe is immensely enlarged through discussions and thoughts on art. The author por trays the development of an artist, or specifically of a musical genius, but at the same time he lets the reader witness the formation of this artist's ideas concerning art^ ^T. L. Motileva, "0 MirQVom Znatchenii L. N. Tolstogo" in L. N. Tolstoy, pod obshzhei redakoiei I). D. Blazogo ( Moikval Gosudarstvennoe Uchebno-Fedagogicheskoe Izdatelstwo, 1955), p. *+50. 213 see the change In his taste and follow the growth of Christophe's ultimate views on the artist's mission. At the same time, the reader hears the author's comments. Such specific problems as inspiration, sterility in art come up. Also the author presents the problems of the artist and nature; the artist and love, friendship and women; the artist and his work; the artist and society; the artist and his critics. Furthermore he discusses the kinds of artists; how publicity and fame affect them; what money and riches can do to them. He explores the subject of art finally, its aim, its function, its durability. Jean-Christophe becomes aware of the beauty of music early. To create such marvelous things and spectacles, he says to himself, is a glorious thing— it is to be God on earth (I, 99). His first compositions are, however, far from expressing completely even his own feelings. He has not yet discovered himself. In this early period of his creative career Jean-Christophe considers music an exact language in which every sound has a meaning, and therefore he comes to loathe those musicians who talk without saying anything (II, 176). He himself wishes to be sincere at any cost, but sees that in order to be so it is necessary to have a special power; and one cannot be sincere when he knows nothing of life (IV, 12-13). Later Christophe becomes disgusted with his work without passions and still 21 I f later he condemns compositions which express his own passions and wanderings of his soul too clearly and accu rately. In this last period he has advanced toward Tinder- standing that art is "the eyes of chaos shining through the veil of order" (IX, 301) and that art is the shadow which man casts upon Nature (IX, *f00). The evolution from his romantic-subjective into his classical-objective period i8 complete; it is accompanied by a profound insight into the function and nature of art. Christophe humbly acknowledges that one cannot conquer and tame Nature entirely and single-handedly, but he per sists in the confidence that one can lend it form, restrict it, define it. Ironically the masses, even lovers of art, are usually not able to follow immediately the progress and achievement of great artists. Not even the critics, most of the time,— and this is a consistent opinion expressed in the novel— are able to perceive the advance ment and the true essence of the artist's accomplishment. One of such friends of Jean-Christophe discovers his retreat in Switzerland and visits him. At his request the composer shows him the music he has recently written. The critic can make nothing of it. II pensa que Christophe tftait devenu fou. — Fas de m£lodie, pas de mesure, pas de travail thdmatique; une sorte de noyau liquids, de matl&re en fusion qul n'est pas refroldle, qul prend toutes les formes et qul n'en a aucune; qa ne ressemble A rlen: des lueurs dans un chaos. 215 Christophe sourit: — C’est h peu pr&s cela, dit-il. "Les yeux du chaos qui luisent & travers le voile de l’ordre" Mais l’autre ne comprit pas le mot de Novalis. (— II est vidl, pensa-t-il.) (X, 209) Meanwhile Christophe has become aware of the dualistic nature within himself and has solved the problems connected with it. He sees there are two men in him: the creative artist who never worries about any moral aim, and the man of action, the thinker, who wants his art to be moral and social (X, 205). He understands now that the highest art, the only art which is worthy of the name, is above all tem porary laws (X, 205). It is neither moral nor immoral. It is that which is (X, 205). The true artist, in being able to transmit reality, becomes a benefactor to humanity. However, he can do it only when he himself becomes fully aware of the fact that he is God’s "arms," when he grasps the divine nature of art and its Immense function in the order of the universe• Furthermore when he grasps the fact that in the process of taming nature an artist acts simi larly to his own Creator who is eternally active end creating in order to conquer nothingness and disintegra tion. Initiation into this knowledge comes only after a long and hard struggle. The victory can be attained only through heroic endurence, perseverance and labor. So the author establishes en epic basis for his rather unusual 216 hero. The artist is frequently viewed as a neurotic, exceptional, individual who, having a talent, fares more or less well in this world. For Romain Rolland he is a mani festation of one of the typically human members of mankind. His work is Incorporated among the most important exploits in the system of the universe; but a true artist in creat ing— also creates himself. His "election" is by no means accidental. The concept of personal freedom is nobly and beautifully explained. The social setting of Jean-Christonhe is very exten sive though not as varied as that of Tolstoy's War and Peace. Jean-Christophe is a member of the middle-class and so are most of the people with whom he associates himself and those who populate the book. The aristocrats and the workers or the peasants appear comparatively rarely. Among these, Sidonie and Gottfried, the representatives of the simple people, and Grazia, the Italian aristocratic lady, play the more important roles. Others, the entire army of personages among whom Christophe finds field for his activi ties, detects barriers and stimuli to his art, are of the middle class. Despite certain faults, even vulgarity, they are the most important "Kulturtrager." They promote culture through protection, interest, discussion, appreciation and criticism. It is the middle class now which keeps the salons and appearances. Not in the Duke's palace, but in 217 Frau Kerich's salon Christophs learns the conduct of life and such fundamental things as table-manners. Elle lui remontrait doucement ce qu'il ne fallait pas fairs, 1'avertissait de ce qu*il fallait fairs, lui donnait dee oonseils sur le faqon de e'habiller, de manger, de marcher, de parler, ne lui laieeait passer aucune faute d*usage, de gofrt, ou de langage; et il dtait impossible d'en etre blessd, tant sa main dtait ltfg&re et attentive & manager cet amour-propre ombrageux d*enfant, Elle fit aussi son Education littdraire. . . • (II, 226) In Paris Christophe receives an invitation to Madame Roussln's musical soiree. Christophe goes, but does not like the atmosphere there. He finds himself among people for the first time after his long and serious illness. Hardly does he find himself once more in a gathering of "politicians and snobs," when he is filled with an aversion for them more violent than ever. It is impossible to hear the music for which supposedly the people have gathered. Here he meets his best friend, the counterpart of himself, Olivier Jeannin (V, 535). This party and the meeting have tremendous consequences for Christophe*s growth and develop ment. Also under similar circumstances Jean-Christophe meets again with Grazia. Romain Rolland in no way idealizes this society. On the contrary he finds it full of faults. Nevertheless the artist cannot live alone. La solitude est noble, mais mortelle pour 1'artiste qui n'aurait plus la force de s*y arracher. II faut vlvre de la vie de son temps, m§me bruyante et impure; 11 faut incessamment donner et recevoir, et donner, et donner, et recevoir encore. . . . (a , 258) 218 The author is not interested in portraying all the particular and concrete instances of everyday life. He limits his presentation to the characteristic aspects per taining to the main character. Such segments are well selected, because in the total and final effect there emerges a rather extensive picture of the life of that period. Still the emphasis in the picture is upon ideas, moods and aspirations of the generation rather than upon its actions. Though the final effect is epic, the execu tion and techniques are novellstlo. One night Sylvain Kohn, an acquaintance, takes Christophe to an artists' club. Christophe is very curious, listens attentively to the conversation which, because of his poor knowledge of the French language, is very diffi cult for him to understand. Yet soon he is greatly dis appointed because they are disputing not great artistic problems, but simply gossiping and talking • . • business. There Christophe also meets the critic Goujart who with Ldvy-Coeur is the typical representative of the critics' caste of the "market-place." They thrive on dissecting and analyzing other men's creative work. Some of them, like Lucien Ldvy-Coeur are extremely intelligent and have a great deal of technical knowledge about music and art generally, others like Tdophile Goujart have not taken any interest in music and know nothing about it. Their atti tudes towards the artistd' work are the same: lack of 219 humility, modesty and respect. Their attacks are hold and loud, hut shallow on account of laok of true insight. Goujart, who has gone to music through politics, since at that time in France this was the only way to success, wants to learn and associates himself with Christophe in whom he perceives a true knowledge of music. Under the false pre tense of initiating Christophe in the conquests and achieve ments of the concert-halls and theaters of Paris, he assunesi the role of a guide intending to use Christophefs ideas for his critical articles. After a few concerts Christophe is disappointed and sad. He absolutely refuses to consider what he hears and sees as art. He notices a lack of the true artistic spirit, since nothing is Important here but novelty and sensation. Moreover he detects now the secret of popularity and ’ ’greatness." The "market place" dominated by publishers, critics, publicity agents and "big" money makes the repu tation of these "artists" and their works. Disillusioned with the "market-place," his friend Kohn and his guide Goujart, Christophe by contrasting the powers in himself as well as the musical tradition with the "market-place geniuses" understands that "Le gAnie se mesure A la puis sance de la vie, que tache d’Avoquer l*art, cet instrument i imparfait." (V, 389) The only truth lies in life, but the) i perception and expression of it is not connected either 220 with material well-being, wealth, happiness or tranquility. Christophe makes a resolution to seek after this truth and feels that there must be other people who think as he does, who work in seclusion shut up in narrow circles from pride, shyness, disgust, or apathy (V, 387)• Except in the case of the poet Emmanuel and partly Olivier the author does not portray realistically this world of the elect. It is mainly through Christophe that Rolland confirms and illustrates the existence of a true artist. A very great part in this essentially cosmopolitan background of the artistic world is played by the European Jewish population. They add a great deal to the complexity and color of the novel, especially to its background and characterization. In Germany Christophe*8 grandfather, the man of the old generation, does not love Jews, or rather is afraid to love them because of the shortsighted religious prejudices. Ironically his two best pupils of whom he is very proud are Jewish. One of these talented youngsters becomes a composer, another a famous virtuoso (IV, 63). There are many Jews in Christophe1 s native town and they play a great role in its life, but because of prejudices and also their wealth, cohesion, and intelligence they live apart. Not so in the big cities, especially Paris, where they actively and normally take part in the flux of human affairs; their contribution to culture is tremendous. They 221 feel themselves drawn to the artist, because they love life and are themselves very much alive • Even when they lack real, warm sympathy they feel a perpetual curiosity which makes them seek out men and ideas however different from themselves (VI, 70). Interested in many things at once they become prey to the vanities of the world, but "ils font quelque chose;— Ils y sont un ferment d'action, un leva in de vie" (VI, 70). Nevertheless in some cases, as in that of the archeologlst Weil, they fall from the heights of idealism into "the sands of that Book of Ecclesiastes," which exists in the mind of every Jew and saps his spiritual vitality (VII, 216). Many times they suffer their own brand of boredom— the boredom of an ancient race (VII, 21*0 which makes them play a part, an assumed part without enjoyment of life and action. Franz Mannheim and Tadd6e Mooch are such actors. Mooch rushes, about trying to deaden his senses, but whereas most of the people only bestir themselves for selfish reasons, he is restlessly active in procuring the happiness of others (VII, 21*0. In this way the Jewish people are the most important agents in the "market place," with whom one can talk of new and vital things— the things not of the past, but of to-day (VII, 217). As such they become associated with the most active and living agents of good and evil (VII, 222 218). Romain Holland oreatea a great number of very inter esting and complex characters such as, Mannheim, his beau tiful sister Judith and their banker father Lothalr Mannheim, Sylvaln Kohn-Hamilton, Professor Nathan, Christophe's publisher Daniel Hecht, the truly kind Taddde Mooch and others. The final judgment comes through Christophe's voice as an old man expressing his impressions of Paris in the letter to Grazia where he says: Les Julfs out obdi k leur mission sacrde, qui est de rester, k travers les autres races, le peuple dtranger, le peuple qui tisse. d'un bout & 1'autre du monde, le rdseau de 1'unite humaine• II abattent les barridres intellectuelles des nations, pour fairs le champ llbre k la Raison divine. (X, 265) Another phenomenon of modem human society is the emancipation of women. They are emerging as an independent and an active force, Influencing current events and especi ally the "market place" cultural and social activities. — AhI Qa, demands Christophe, 11 n'y a done que les femmes qui dcrivent en Prance? Kohn se mit k rlre, et dit aveo fatuitd: — La Prance est femme, mon cher. Si vous voulez arriver, faites-en votre profit. (V, 338) Christophe stands in close relationship with many women. Most of them are positive characters and their influence upon the artist is benevolent. Minna, Rosa, Sabine, Ada, Pran$oise Oudon, Sldonie, Cecils, Mme. Araaud, Anna Braun, Grazia— all help him to grow and develop; but, as the author says, there is this other kind who talk of Ibsen, of Wagner, of Tolstoy flirtatiously, politely, boredly, or 223 Idiotically (V, 2*+2) • Universally woman is discovering In herself new aspects, hut she is still at a loss how to use some of her newly acquired rights. Society is not yet ready for the idea of a woman living alone and is often hostile to it. It still thinks of her in terms of a helper and an inspiration, hut not as an independent member. There will come a time, however, when this feeling will change, because, since nothing exists in vain, the efforts of modem women cannot he wasted. Women will become more complete and more human, as they were in past ages. Elies ne se dtfsintdresseront plus des questions vlvantes du mondet ce qui dtalt monstrueux, car 11 n'est pas toldrable qu*une femme, m€me la plus soucleuae de ses devoirs domestlques, se crole dispenses de songer k ses devoirs dans la citd modems.— Les pauvres petites vierges guerri&res d&jr6sent, dont heaucoup ne se marieront jamais, seront plus fdcondes pour l*avenir que les genera tions de matrones qui enfant&rent avant sliest car d'elles sortira, au prix de leurs sacrifices, la race fdmlnine d*un nouvel Age classique (IX, 270) The author's views concerning marriage are different and unique. He believes that marriage is against nature. Happy marriages are rare. C'est un peu contre nature. On ne peut enchainer ensemble les volontds de deux 6 tree qu'en mutilant l'une d'elles, sinon toutes les deux; et ce ne sont me me point 1&, peut-dtre, des souffrances oil l'ftme alt profit k etre trempde. (X, 2*f6) Often natemlty is the saving grace for the woman, and yet basically this is a great hoax of Nature, because children do not need mothers very long. Despite this, the family is 22*f important, because man does not stand in life alone. He is to a great extent the product of his race, his family, and his nation. Certain characteristics are preserved through generations. Speaking about Olivier's son who without any effort of his own finds himself at the outset of his career already several grades higher than his father, the author marvels: D'oCl lui venait-elle? . . . Jtystfcre de ces resurrec tions d'une race, qui s'endort dpuisne, et se reveille ddbordante, comm© un torrent de montagne, au printemps! • • • Qu'allait-il faire de cette force? (X, 331) The new and unique factors in women's role, their vocation, and the ideas concerning family and marriage are the results of seething developments and progress. They show that the author describes life in the middle of change, that his world is, as he himself says, in an age of crisis (X, 270). As such it is quite opposite from the stable and basically united world of the epic. Other phenomena or peculiarities discussed are the problems of money, wealth and poverty, political parties, religious practices, the ethics and morality of religions, anticlericalism, Idealism, servility, school curricula, nationalism and tolerance, and so forth. Thus the social setting is portrayed not by reproducing typical scenes and details of life as is the usual practice of the epic poet, but by selecting influential phenomena and factors of the social make-up, by analyzing and interpreting them, by 225 drawing the reader's attention to the particular problems of the age. On the other hand, the details described are not entirely theoretical. They stem from the author's experience and his encounter with life and environment. Luclen Price, telling of the genesis of this great work, says that Romain Rolland used extensive materials collected from various sources: Then befell the miracle. Every loss suddenly turned to gain. Griefs and misfortunes were seen to have been indispensable experience. The habit— almost the mania--of collecting newspaper cuttings, articles from reviews, studies, music pursued for years more by instinct than from any definite aim, unexpectedly befriended him. (Price, p. 7*0 With regard to nature Romain Rolland shows a Splnozian and, in part, a Bergsonlan influence. He sees the double aspect of nature in Splnozian terms— the nature begetting or the natura naturans. the active force, and natura naturata— the nature begotten or the passive force— its woods, its waters— in a word, the entire visible natural background• The begetting or the active force of nature* or The Nature, Romain Rolland experiences in the manner of Bergson's dlan vital— the creative evolution. He personi fies it in the novel; this is the force which the artist has to conquer, to tame. As God has to make His Way to victory by fighting constantly and eternally the Nothing ness, so an artist has to fight this Nature, to define it, to impose form upon it. — Combattre, toujours combattre? — II faut toujours combattre. Bleu combat, lui aussi. Bieu est un oonqudrant. II est un lion qui ddvore. Le ndant l*enserre, et Bieu le terrasse. Et le rbffthme du combat fait l'harmonie supreme. (X, 201) Nature is not friendly to man. It is not friendly to the other creatures either. Even the plant life is ferocious and cruel• "Sdrdnitd des forftts, lieu commun de rhdtorique pour les litterateurs qui ne oonnaissent la nature qu*au travers de leurs livresS . . . (IX, 191) Ood creates both nature and man. Both nature and man have the vitality and strength necessary for further evolv ing and they also have some innate and acquired insight into the principles of the entire cosmos. Man is, of course, organically connected with Nature; he is a part of it, but by virtue of his intellect and his creative ability he also becomes its rival. This is particularly true of the creative artist. By God's grace— God dwells in him more than in other people, perhaps— he is able to lift the veil from the cosmic paradox and by showing the truth to soothe and console plagued humanity. There are also other "elects"— scientists, saints, great men of action who do the same, but the author does not dramatize this idea. The living God, the great Ocean into which ultimately all the "rivers" flow, stands out in the novel as the foremost supernatural agency. Next to it is the personified, the 227 ever busily creating Nature— natura naturana. Some of the products of Nature*s creative process are good to man. In fact they are a blessing. As a little child Christophe seeks consolation among natural surround ings. Fields, the river, woods are his most cherished walking places. Sometimes he makes excursions to them at night. Here is a description of one which is quite typical of the author*s method of dealing with the environment. Quelquefois, ils allaient retrouver J4rtfmie, le pAcheur, un ami de Gottfried; on filalt dans aa barque, au clair de lune. L'eau s'Agouttant des ramea falsait de petita arpAges, des notea chroma- tiquea. Une vapeur de lalt tremblait A la surface du fleuve. Lea rftoiles frissonnaient •— La lune ae cachait derriAre les for&ts. On longeait la sombre masse des collines. Les tAnAbres dfb. del et de l'eau se fondaient. Le fleuve Atalt sans un pll. Toua lea bruita s'Ateignalent• La barque glisaait dans la nuit. Glissait-elle? Flottait-elle? Restalt- elle immobile? • • • (II, 150-151) Farther on the author describes the dawn; the birds wake up; the river takes on rosy and purple hues of reflection and truants hurry back home. Jean-Christophe carefully enters his room, falls into his bed and sleeps at once. The description, though complete and undoubtedly realistic and correct, is not as concrete as in the epic. It la permeated with an atmosphere and it is very poetic. In a similar way is described another excursion. Anna Braun and Christophe take the local railway which brings them to one of the lines of blue hills forming a distant halo round the town (IX, 139)* It is a fine winter day, but there is 228 no snow, Anna walks with a firm stride and her heels ring out on the frozen earth (IX, 139) • For a few pages there is no description of the countzyside at all* Overcome by joy of freedom and nearness of nature Anna flings herself down on the ground and lies full length on the stubble (IX, lM)). There is no attempt to tell the story of the country. The basic aim is to reproduce Anna's mood fused or contrasted with the moods of nature. In a way it is also a foreshadowing of what is going to come. This emphasis upon mood is always prevalent even when actual description takes place. Professor Reinhart's little house is "gemutlich" in the same way his owner and his wife are "gemutlich." It is, as the author states, the chattering "Gemut" with inscriptions. The furniture, the utensils, the china all talk and all go on repeating their joy in seeing their "oharming" guest. Sur le sofa,— qui au reste 4tait fort dur,— s'ltalait un petit coussin, qui murmuralt amlcalement: — Settlement un petit quart d'heure (Nur ein Viertelstundchenl). Le tasse de caftf, qu'on offrlt A Christophe, lnsistait pour qu'll en reprit: — Encore une petite goutte! (Noch ein Schluckchen!) Bien que Christophe ne fum&t point, le cendrler sur la chemlnle ne put se tenir de se presenter k luit — Petite place de repos pour les clgares brfllants. (Ruheplatzchen fur brennende Clgarren) (IV, 177) Such "Beseelung" or animation of the environment takes a truly large dimension in the portrayal of life and activ ities of towns. Christophe*s native town is so Infected by 229 malevolence that it becomes united and unanimous in its action against the musician's friendship with the Reinharts, considered outsiders to the town. The town hates the Reinharts because they do not observe the local customs and ignore the town's social life. According to the author, boredom is the main reason for this attitude of the towns people. Out of boredom grows envy which cannot stand watching somebody else having fun and leading an interest ing life. Therefore the united town very soon brings about a separation between Christophe and his friends. La ville pouvait triompher. Cette fols, Christophe dtalt bien seul. Elle lui avait void jusqu'au dernier souffle d'airs— 1'affection, si humble soit- elle, sans laquelle aucun coeur ne peut vivre. (XV, 199) The little Swiss town in which Christophe takes an abode after fleeing from Paris is also a living, collective organism. — ce monde, pour qui une grande renommde, une cdldbritd dtrangAre, ne comptait qu'lk. partir du jour oil elle s'dtait fait accueillir et reconnaitre par lui,— exer^alt sur lui mSme la plus rigoureuse des disciplines. Tous se tenaient, et tous se survelllaient. II en dtait rdsultd un conscience collective qui recou- vrait les differences individuelles,— (xX, 1.17) It seems also that the soul or perhaps the essence of a person is such a strong property that it can be transferred to the surrounding things and especially the animals which acquire the likeness of the people with whom they live. A domestic animal will become good or bad, frank or sly, sensitive or stupid, not only according to what its master teaches it, but also according to what its master is. "Le chat d'un imbecile n'a pas le meme regard que le chat d*un homme d*esprit" (X, 336). This relationship is much deeper and more complicated among human beings. Often two persons can read each other's thoughts and guess each other's intention. Christophe hardly hears what his beloved Grazia says, but none of her thoughts is lost upon him (X, 253), and he is infected with Grazia's peace and tranquility. This empathy and man's ability to influence other men and inanimate things show that there exists a purely spiritual relationship unperceivable through senses. That is why not only men, but all the world is alive— however, not in the same degree. The animation and person ification of the environment is not a mere poetic device; it is the result of the author's deepest conviction; it represents his view of the universe. In order to express, it, the author uses a poetic language different from the epic, but the idea itself, suggesting the relationship, communication, and Influences among the creatures, lends the work an epic aspect. The immense scope of Rolland*s novel is composed more upon novelistic than epic principles. There is no one specific historical event which is centrally engaged; the author is interested less in the historical, but more in 231 the political and the social events of the day. The hero is a cosmopolitan; the scene— the whole of Europe. Prom a ! strictly national point of view the subject matter has j little to do with the glorifying of any particular nation or country, but the significance of the family, the nation, the race are approached by the author from a fresh and novel angle. Obviously the Individual has a more sig- j nificant relationship with his family. It is more impor tant ultimately than the blood bond, but what it is, is not I fully clarified. Such views on history and the mysterious family ties are hardly epic in the traditional sense, because the epic family relationship is the normal blood bond. The social setting is created not to show the scenes of national, domestic, or family life, but to produce a complex background and to illuminate those factors, forces,! trends, modes, phenomena which make up the modem society and to reveal their part in creating a genius. Rolland by no means idealizes the society of Western Europe; neither does he satirize it directly in the basic narrative voice. In the same way as Tolstoy, Rolland is, in the first place, interested in truth, to show life as it is. However, he inevitably sees the complexity, contradictions and follies of the modem world and presents them. As a modem writer he cannot help portraying also the motives for the 232 characters' actions, and as an epic writer he searches for the basic laws which sometimes condition life and bear cer tain phenomena and occurrences. Such is the "inevitable blind force." Romain Rolland approaches nature in the same way. He sees suid evaluates its paradoxical complexity, which is hardly epic. At the same time he tries to relate the natural phenomena to the schemes and laws of the entire cosmos. He succeeds in doing it through personification and symbolism and imparts to his work an epic aspect, strengthened by the supernatural machinery— personified Nature and God. Atmosphere The atmosphere of*the novel is predominantly serious. At the end, when the author describes the mature artist it could be called serene. The portrayal of the titanic passions and changes of mood of the artistic temperament is counterbalanced by the detailed and varied presentation of the environmental factors, multiplicity of life, mul titude of characters and sometimes by a light ironic touch. The author's own comments are especially important in this regard. Unlike the comments in Tolstoy's novel they do not remind one much of the epic formula and do not serve to provide the rhythm, but are exclusively the expression of the author's views. They are his commentary on the action. 233 Structurally they are used frequently to foretell the com ing events and add to the developing of the complex back ground, but most importantly they balance out the nearly sentimental or violent moods either in the characters' voices, especially that of Christophe, or in the descrip tions of nature. Some of such comments become apostrophes and are lyrical: 0 dllioieux souvenirs, bienfaisantes Images, r A ui bourdonneront, comme un vol harmonieux, pendant toute la vie! • .Les voyages qu'on fait plus tard les grandes villes, les mere mouvantes, les paysages de rftves, les figures almles, ne se gravent pas dans l'ame avec la justesse infallllble de ces promenades d'enfance, ou du simple coin de jardin tous les jours entrevu par la fenStre, & travers la bule de vapeur que fait sur la vitre la petite bouohe collie de 1'enfant dlsoeuvrl . • • {I* 3^) Others are intellectual and are expressed in witty terse aphorisms: 1'amour est une acts de foi perpltuel (III, If26) Le stoloisms est beau, pour ceux qui n'ont plus de dents. (VII, 192) Un fou qui se connait en vaut deux. (VIII, 333) Le destin est ironique. II lalsse passer les insouqiants k travers les mailles de son filet; mais ce qu'll garde bien de manque, ce sont oeux qui se mefient, lea prudents, les avertis. (VIII, 328) Often the comments are informative and slightly inimical at the same time. Les idles s'usent vite dans une dlmooratie: d'autant plus qu'elles se sont plus vite propagles. 21) Cette canaille-1^ est de tous les partis; gr&ce k Lieu, aucun parti n'en est responsable. (IX, 19) Despite occasional irony in the basic narrative voice, 23^ there is hardly an intention to satirize. There is more irony in the characters* voices. It shows both the charac ters* intellectual strength, their verbal facility and their criticism of society. The describing of the environ ment through the characters* voices might not be entirely nonepic, since there are stories and short descriptions of places even in the ancient epics, but the criticism of the social contemporary life is the field of the novel. Furthermore most of the comments stem from the author's observations and experience of life, II n'y a aucun rapport entre l'idtfe de la souffrancs et l*etre qui salgne et qui souffre. II n*y a aucun rapport entre la pensde de la mort et les convulsions de la chair et de l'&me qui se ddbat et qui meurt. (II, 162) At the same time the author claims to know a great deal more about human nature and life in general than one is able to observe with the external five senses. He claims an intuitive knowledge which, of course, is quite in accord ance with his own aesthetic theory that the artist is a "bearer of God" and knows hidden things through God dwell ing in his soul. This attitude lends to the novel a sub jective tone which is partly relieved by the high intellec tual quality of the comments as well as by the literary, scientific, philosophical allusions, quotations, insertions -of the names of the authors, references to mythological characters and events. Among the authors quoted are 235 Schiller, Goethe, Montaigne, Berlioz, Biderot, Dante, George Sand, et cetera. Also, there are excerpts in the text from the Bible, Bhagavad Gita. Arabian folklore, Confucius, and others. Inserted into the text le an abridgement of a contemporary article by Guieeppe Prezzollni from La Voce. April 13, 1911 (X, 2*fl). On the other hand, prophesies occurring often in the basic narrative voice, a practice which is contrary to that of the epic writer, since it is characters who usually prophesy in the epic, strengthen the subjectivity of the tone. Mais Christophe lgnorait la naive affection, qui de loin veillait sur lui, et qui devait plus tard tenir tant de place dans sa vie. Et il lgnorait aussl qu'A ce mime concert, oil il avait Atd insulti, assistalt celui qui allait etre l'ami, le cher compagnon, qui devait marcher aupr&s de lui, cote A cote, et la main dans la main. (V, ^96) This example Illustrates the epic omniscient tone of the author, but at the same time this excerpt is too direct and subjective to be truly epic. Structure Romain Rolland* s novel begins with the birth of its hero and ends with his death. Events are retold in chrono logical order. Although the incidents are interwoven into a rather loosely knit plot, there is no three-movement structure typical of the epic. There are no flashbacks either. The episodes and ideas concerning the hero's development run along quietly like a steady straight line. 236 The themes emerge, become visible, then sink into the river of life and may appear again and again. Thus the novel acquires a rhythm similar to that of a flowing river, Romain Rolland discussing his attitudes towards his works wrote once to a friend in a letters state of mind • , . is always that of a musician, not of a painter. At first 1 conceive like a nebulous musical impression the whole of a work, then the prin cipal motives, and, above all, the rhythm, not so much of Isolated phrases as the sequence of the volumes in relation to the whole, the chapters in the volumes, and the paragraphs in the chapters. (Living Authors. P. 3**7) - For this reason many readers and critics have felt that Jean-Christophe is a symphony with crashing climaxes of instrumentation and its contrasting andantes and pastorales. John Cruickshank says that the themes are stated, developed, elaborated according to the rules of counterpoint, and finally recapitulated ("Nature • . p. 385), This method plays an important role in uniting a work full of so many heterogeneous elements. Romain Rolland himself called his work a song. In the introduction of L*Arne Enchant6e he says: "Quelle qu'elle soit, 1*oeuvre est musique. Je la dAdie, comme Jean-Christophe« A l'harmonie, 12 reine des Songes, Songe de ma vie." Though symphonic in scale, Jean-Christophe is but ^Edition definitive (Paris: Albin Michel, 193*0, P. 21. 237 slightly so in the structure (Price, "Saga • • p. 29). Even the beginning is closer to an untypical andante than to a regular allegro. A "flowing" mode and quality domi nates and prevails in the entire narrative. The story flows through time like a river widening its bed and gathering strength until it reaches the ocean and is drowned in it. Except for the "Antoinette" episode, when, to use the author’s own words, the river "disappears under ground" for a while and a few incidents describing Olivier’s separate life after his marriage, there is but little deviation from the strightforward manner of the narrative. Owing to this practice and to the exclusion and disregard of the other incidents, and because of the author's concen tration upon the life of the main character, some of the actions seem accidental, their motivation inadequate. Unexplainable from the realistic point of view seem strange coincidental meetings of Christophe and Antoinette: first in the theater, then in the train, and later in the street of Paris. Sidonie appears, like a good fairy godmother to nurse Christophe in his moment of grave illness and, after he feels better, vanishes never to come back again. Grazia's letter for some reason never reaches Christophe; also quite accidentally Christophe meets with Grazia as well as with the blind girl Modesta who tells him about his Uncle Gottfried'8 death. Such accidental occurrences add 238 to the novel an epic quality of a united, logically ordered, and meaningful universe, though their significance Is revealed only in relationship to the main hero. The pace is slow. It is retarded by the author's long explanations, and his descriptions of the characters' minds and motives. As a rule the minor characters are described minutely in their physical appearance and often in their psychological make-up. Also, the narrative is greatly slowed down by the author's comments, quotations, allusions, et cetera. At the same time there are a few typically epic techniques retarding the action— several letters Inserted in the body of the novel, a few short anecdotes, one brief excerpt from a newspaper, and various songs. Despite the length of the work, repetitions are rather rare. The most nearly epic of such repetitions is Jean-Chrlstophe*s short review just before his death of the stages of his develop ment which appear in a succession of Images before the eyes of his mind (X, 398). If the entire structure is predominantly novelistic, not so the ending. The novel ends on an epic note suggest ing the continuity of Christophe's existence: Et le grondement du fleuve, et la mer brulssante chant&rent avec lui: — Tu renaitras. Repose 1 (X, 1 +06-1 +07) Then, as if invoking the consciousness of all mankind to stand witness by this statement, the author introduces the 239 nyth of St. Christopher. Saint Christophe a traverse le fleuve. -- Et il dit k 1'Enfant: — Nous voici arrives 1 Comme tu Itals lourdl Enfant, qui done es-tu? Et 1'Enfant dit: — Je suis le jour qui va naitre. (X, 501) The structure of Jean-Christophe is original and was new at Romain Holland's time. The total sum of incidents bound together in a chronological sequence according to the manner of the Blldungsroman is enriched and varied by the successfully employed devices of musical composition. Further they are made even more complex by the occasional accidental action and the epic ending of the novel. Thus, both the novelistic, and to a lesser extent the epic ele ments are evident in the structure of this novel. The author uses the "editorial omniscience" method of narration in which the tendency is to depart from scene towards summary and narration. Very often, therefore, he relates minutely not only the actions, or the incidents, but the most intimate thoughts of the character as well. II pensa k se tuer. II pensa k tuer. II se figura du moins qu'il le pensait. II eut des d4sirs incen- diaires. On ne se doute pas du paroxysme d'amour et de haine qui ddvorent certains coeurs d'enfants. (II, 269) In the same way the author claims knowledge not only of the past but even of the present and the future. Le camaval, dans cette ville, avait gardrf jusqu'au temps oil se ddroule cette histoire— (il a changrf, depuij?)— un caract&re de licence et d'apret^ archaique. (IX, 163) 2*fO Obviously, it is the point of view of the author that pre vails, but not without exceptions. Sometimes it is that of Jean-Christophe, of Olivier or even Grazia, which is also typical of the editorial omniscience method, since it sig nifies: . . . literally a completely unlimited— and hence difficult to control point of view. The story may be seen from any or all angles at will: from a godlike vantage point beyond time and place, from the center, the periphery, or front. There is nothing to keep the author from choosing any of them, or from shifting fronu one to the other as often or rarely as he pleases.1^ Due to the practices and the tone of the narrative method of the novel, Romain Rolland*s work is not characteristi cally epic. Characterization Jean-Christophe Krafft, the composer-musician, domi nates Rolland*s novel. The stress of importance on one character is rather indicative of the epic structure. C. M. Bowra maintains that the epic narrative concentrates on the few and neglects the others, and that the main 1* + interest is reserved for the great figures. ^Norm^n Friedman, "Point of View in Fiction: The Development of a Critical Concept," in Approaches to the Novel. ed. by Robert Scholes (San Franclsoo: Chandler Publishing Co., 19&1), P« 126. llfHeroic Poetry (London: MacMillan & Co.. Ltd.. 1952), p p. 55-56. J Jean-Christophe is not a national hero; he is a cos mopolitan. Moreover he is not a historical personality, though a closer analysis shows that inspiration for his character is from actual life. Holland has created his hero in the image of some famous nineteenth century com posers. The author, says Jean-Paul Sartre, had proved at the beginning of the century in Jean-Christoohe that one can achieve a rather good likeness by combining the fea- 15 tures of a few famous musicians. The composers which Rolland used for the portrait of his hero are the two titanic figures of musical world Beethoven and Wagner. He blended their characteristics with a dozen of other com posers, among them Bach, Handel, and Hugo Wolf.^ Certain well-known traits of Beethoven, such as his temper and sensitivity, and the historical details of his life such as the birth in a city located in Western Germany on the Rhine, or Wagner*s journey to Paris and his difficulties there, are reproduced faithfully and are historically correct, but to this Rolland added features and events of his own imagination and wrought the whole into one superb prose ^Jean-Paul Sartre, What Is Literature? (New York; Philosophical Library, 19*+9) > P. I06. l6price, "Saga • • . ," p. 79; also Stefan Zwelg, Romain Rolland (Paris: Les Editions Pittoresques, 1929), 2k 2 saga. Such a process of creation is not principally differ ent from the process of creating an epic hero. Only, in the epics, not the author, but an entire people to a great extent fashion the hero from a historical person who catches their imagination. Not only the main hero, but also some other less important characters were bom in the author1s imagination in a similar way. Is Francoise Oudon in Jean-Christoohe a portrait of La Duse? It is not, ana it is: a portrait from life seen through the imaginative veil of fiction. The last time Holland saw her in Rome, she said affec tionately that she recognized herself in it. "But the fact is," says the author, "in Franqoise Oudon there are only certain traits of La Duse, and these are rather more the traits of situations than of physiog nomy and character. Other memories of La Duse are strewn in the personage of Grazia.1' The inspiration for another female character, Sabine, Rolland received while taking a walk in a small provincial town in France. He saw a young girl and a young man sit ting in the darkness by their houses. Et ce fut tout; pour moi, A cette minute precise, ce fut le chog initial qui d&lencha tout le travail de I1esprit. 5 There are definite epic traits in the character of Jean-Christophe. Joy, affirmation of life, and exuberance ^Lucien Price, "Romain Rolland Converses," Atlantic Monthly« CLVI, No. o (December, 1935), 719-726. 1®From a letter to one of his American translators, Henry Ward Church, Modem Philology. XXVIII (1931 )* *+76, 38*+. 2^+3 could be ranked as first among such features. The author says: "II faisait trop jour en Christophe" (VIII, 3*+3)* F. W. J. Hemmings recognizes this as a Tolstoyan influence, because the author of War and Peace himself is veiy fond of life and the world. He says: And Christophs himself has almost nothing in common with Tolstoy, as a personality, save one quality only, a burning passion for life. • • • He is mad for life. He is "intoxicated" with life.1^ Another epic trait is Christophe*s courage, which stems from his natural, unsophisticated nature. It is evi dent early in his childhood, when he asserts himself against the children of the rich people for whom his mother Louisa works (I, 50-5*0 . His attitude towards injustice, be it personified in the Duke, his own father, the soldiers, or somebody else, is always the same. Christophe never thinks of disadvantages for himself, but fights to the end with all his strength. This reaction does not spring from his moral code, or personal philosophy, but is a natural spontaneous response. Very impulsive, the young artist, if aroused, acts instantaneously without reflecting or weigh ing the arguments. Only later in his old age he is capable of controlling himself and analyzing a situation. This he has learned through his long experience of life during Ruba*i=m Novel in France iSQU—igi1 * (London: Oxford University Press, 1950), p. 215. 2kb which he has acquired tolerance and sympathy for his fellow men. Even then sometimes he bursts out with spontaneous unexpected action, When Georges fights a duel for him, quite in the same way as Christophe fought for Olivier, his friend, Christophe is horrified, offended, and yet flattered over Georges* concern for him. He hurries to see Georges and when the latter opens the door Christophe entra, comme un ouragan, le salsit par les deux bras, et, le secouant avec colire, il se mit & l'accabler sous une volde de reproches furlbonds, (X, 3^6) Such attitudes of Christophe are the product of his honest, natural and naive soul. After one of these outbursts Sylvain Kohn, his acquaintance in Paris, defines Christophe*s conduct and himself as "epic”— "Vous avez itd rfpique,” (V, 23) Indeed, Christophe*s naturalness and naivitd are truly epic, Denn im Dramatisehen 1st die innere geistige Starke oder Schwache, das sittlich berechtigte oder ver- werfliche Pathos die Hauptsache. im Eplschen dagegen die Naturseite des Charakters,20 Except for his talent, Christophe is human and differs from his fellowmen only in the degree of his passions, his capacity to feel and to think. By virtue of these, he is ”greater than life,” Also, Christophe possesses what the author calls a "Puritanical nature" (II, 211), or, more 20Georg Wilhelm Friedrick Hegel, Asthetik (Berlin Aufbau Verlag, 1955), p. 951*. 2k5 specifically, the Puritanical horror of adultery (IV, 196“ 197). Therefore, his uncontrollable passion for Anna Brai®, when confronted with the purity of his soul, drives him to despair and eventually brings him to the brink of suicide. The situation is extremely serious because Christophe finds himself in it when he is worn out by grief and self- reproach after Olivier*s death. He survives through acci dent, when Anna's pistol misses fire, and through his own essentially sound soul; but the struggle— it is actually a battle— is a tremendous one. Christophe cannot do things by halves; neither is he capable of lukewarm feelings. When love lights Christophe's heart, it makes every other light seem pale. Equally de^p is his sorrow— heartbreaking and true. The same can be said about Christophe's friendships with Otto and espe cially Olivier. He is most loyal and tender not only to Olivier, but also to Olivier's son. Though feeble and sick, he goes through the wedding ceremony of Georges and Aurora, and dies after catching pneumonia when trying to fulfill Aurora's insignificant request. Christophe helps his friend in every moment of his life, and his care of Olivier during the period of Olivier's wooing of Jacqueline is sometimes most amusing. Maintenant, Christophese passionnalt pour le succds d'Olivier. II s'occupait de lui matemellement, surveillait sa toilette, prltendait lui donner des conseils sur la fa?on de s'habiller, lui faisait— (comment!)— see noeuds de cravate. (VIII, 3^7) 2lf6 Only, for one moment, when the panic breaks out because of the strained circumstances between Prance and Germany and there is a danger of war, Christophe contemplates leaving Olivier, There is an enormous struggle in his heart. Though influenced by the ideas of the eighteenth century German philosophers and knowing that Goethe refused to associate himself with the liberation movement of eighteen- thirteen and detesting the militarist and commercial spirit of the New Germany, he secretly packs his trunks. Olivier understands fully what is going on in Christophe^ mind. He watches Christophe anxiously, but does not question him. Only, after the storm passes as quickly as it had come, Olivier pulls himself together and says in a choking voice: — Dis-moi franchement, Christophe: tu allals partir? Christophe rdpondit: — Oui. Olivier rdpdtait douloureusement: — Tu te serais battu contre nous? — Je ne sals pas, Je ne me suls pas demandd. (VII, 290-291) Christophe assures Olivier that he would not have fought against his friend, whom he loves (as he says himself) more, than his life, but he cannot love him more than Life. He has a horror of the night into which the false progress of the French drags him. Christophe believes at that period of his development, that their philosophy teaches the same Buddhist Nirvana. "L*action seule est vivante, meme quand elle tue" (VII, 293)* This incident reveals Christophe as a man who follows his inner voice of duty and a man of great energy and action. Nevertheless Christophe in no way approves of senseless or purposeless action. He criticizes Collette who becomes a whirlwind in the company of the same. Collette and the people around her are devoted so much to "activity for activity's sake" that they have no need to think. Christophe, on the contrary, always uses his capac ity for thinking, even in moments when tremendous passions rage within him. He also tries to define to himself a pur pose in life. As a little child he tells his uncle that he wants to make songs in order to be famous. When his uncle teases him, Christophe explains that he wants to be great in order to make the great songs (I, 119-120). Thus, at a veiy young age, Christophe understandj that the greatness of achievement is coupled with greatness of character and greatness of soul. Of course, precisely the same idea on art was expressed in Tolstoy*s letter to Rolland, on October l1 *, 1887. According to Tolstoy, the precondition of every true calling is not love for art, but love for mankind. Tolstoy also greatly stressed love for one's fellow creatures. Only those who love their fellow crea tures can hope as artists to do anything worthwhile. Christophe*s artistic creed is similar. Prom the very beginning of his life he is conscious of it; at the end he is fully aware of it Bind can define it for himself and for 2V8 others• H o w ev er s t r o n g , e n e r g e t i c an d c r e a t i v e , J e a n - Christophe does not move in this world entirely on his own, unprotected. Unseen, but ever-present is a certain Power which influences and many times guides his actions, affects his decisions, and promotes his growth. For instance, Christophe unwillingly makes up his mind to stay in his native town, but this Power wills it differently. The author portrays this idea in the realistic scene of the skirmish with the soldiers. Christophe is determined to leave and to avoid a fight, but an unexpected thing happens. II toumait la poign^e de la porte: quelques secondes encore, et il rftait dehors. Mais il etait dit qu*il n*en sortirait pas indemne. (IV, 29*0 After the fight which follows, Christophe is compelled to flee the country. In Paris, in the midst of great hard ships, difficulties, suffering, illness, and poverty Christophe bears his lot patiently and although he does not believe in God, he knows he is not alone. — "un Dieu le tenait par la main, le menait oil il fallait qu*il vint. II se confiait A . lui comme un petit enfant" (V, 527). Christophe leaves Paris unwillingly. He is saved by several good people, some of whom are strangers to him. When Anna and Christophe try to commit suicide, the pistol does not work, though, as the author indicates, there is no reason for it not functioning properly. The incidents showing the 2k9 active existence of some supernatural force is an epic trait* At the same time the author illustrates the rela tionship between the main character and his environment. The environment, acting under the control of some greater Power, directs, defeats, or affects in one or another way Christophefs actions without diminishing his stature or importance. According to Hegel this is an epic quality. penn im Epos stehen Charakter und Notwendigkeit des Auszerlichen als gleich stark nebenelnander; und das epische Individuum kann deshalb den auszeren Umstanden, ohne Schaden fur seine poetische Individual!tat nachzugeben scheinen und in seinem Handeln das Resultat der Verhaltnisse sein, so das diese dadurch als das Machtige an die Stelle des im Drama ausschlieszlich wirkenden Charaktera treten. (Hegel, p. 97^) Por this reason even suffering and certain mysterious happenings and peculiarities of human existence are not tragic in themselves, because there is hope that all the incongruities will be solved and balanced out. Harmony will be the final outcome. This might seem a contradiction of the statement at the beginning of this chapter— that life is difficult and a serious matter. On careful recon sideration it is not a contradiction. Indeed, life is very difficult. One can master it only if one is willing to accept it as it is and when one becomes aware of the fact that not only man, but humanity "is not an island" and does not stand alone in the total scheme of Life. Then one sees life, as Christophe does at the end of his journey, as 250 serious, difficult, full of hardship, but not really sad. Christophe tells Franqoise Oudon that happiness lies in knowing one’s limitations and loving them. She answers: — Je ne peux plus. J'en eruis sortie. La vie m'a forcle, fourbue, eatropine• II me semble pourtant que j’aurais pu $tre une femme normale et saine et belle tout de m§me, sans €tre comme le troupeau. (VIII, *+17) Christophe describes to her the conditions under which she might have developed naturally and harmoniously. Thus Romain Rolland brings out and illustrates his idea that the artist can develop and does develop into a healthy individ ual, morally and spiritually sound. A genius is such an individual and he is able to conquer his neuroses. It is never too late to accept the world as it is. It doeB Franqoise good to hear all this, but she says: — Non, c'est impossible maintenant. — Eh bien, fit-il, il faut se dire alors, comme le bon vieux Haendel, quand il devint aveugle: What ever is, is right. (VIII, M-18) The author conceives the main character of his book as an epic hero— greater than life, but basically not differ ent from other people, and this hero, if one considers him from the cosmical, all-embracing point of view, moves in a well-ordered universe despite the apparent confusion, para dox, and even misery on this planet. This purely epic concept is coupled with a novelistic treatment of the character's development. Christophe's growth is unveiled gradually, slowly. The approach is 251 psychological. The author is greatly interested in Christophevs moral, intellectual and spiritual maturation. Rolland tells the reader of joy and happiness residing in the heart of the little child when he starts perceiving the life around him. What an abundance of strength, joy, pride, energy is in that little creature! There is nothing in him that does not believe in happiness, and does not cling to it (I, 35). He hugs his mother close to him with all his strength and she laughingly says that he wants to strangle her, but II la serre plus fort. Comme il l'aime, comme il aime tout! Toutes les personnes, toutes les choses! Tout est bon, tout est beau. . . . II s'endort. Le grillon crie dans l'atre. Ah! que c*est bon de vivre! . . . (I, 36) Yet life does not hold him entirely; he always escapes it and swims in the infinite. Gradually that changes. He becomes aware of the events, people, and things around him and reacts to the world around him vigorously. It is a great shock to Christophe to discover that his parents do not belong to the class that commands the others. He understands and feels for the first time now the meaning of injustice (I, 57) and stej? by step he is learning about the contradictions and hardships of life. These mostly sad experiences teach Christophe to take responsibilities and carry burdens. Christophe finds a friend, Otto Diener. Their meeting, their attraction to each other, their 252 letters are minutely and carefully described. After Christophe*s malicious brothers start calling each other "my dear soul" (II, 210) Christophe knows that they have read his letters and now subtly and sarcastically mock his * friendship and his most cherished feelings. Soon he catches Ernst in the act of thieving. He hurls himself on him with all his strength and nearly kills him and the friendship is poisoned. Christophe sees for the first time the wicked ness of the world and helplessly watches the disintegration of his beautiful relationship with Otto: Mais il fut impossible de retrouver 1*abandon des entretiens passes. La franchise de leurs relations £tait alt^ree. Ces deux enfants. qui s'aimaient d'une tendresse si craintive qu'ils n'avalent jamais o 0 ( 6 se donner un baiser fratemel, et qui n*imaginaient pas de plus grand bonheur que de se voir et de partager leurs reves, se sentaient salis par le soupqon des coeurs malhonnetes. Ils en arrivaient k voir le mal dans les actes les plus innocents. (II* 212) With the same delicacy and subtlety, with even more detail, the author describes Jean-Christophe*s love affairs; his discovery of love, beauty, passionate affection. With vivid particularity he tells of Christophe*s adolescent love for Minna, his poetic love for Sabine, his grief after Sabine’s death. During this period of sorrow Christophe is consoled and soothed by the tender care of Rosa, who loves him but has to watch his suffering for the loss of another. Then comes the meeting with Ada, Christophe’s first experi ence of sensual love. There follow other relationships— different, but equally important and equally well described. The details are not specific* No one detail represents or indicates the process inside the character. The effect is achieved by the cumulative use of detail rather than by some selective indicative point revealing the character's mind. Meanwhile the tragic death of his father Melchior ends Christophe's childhood. Later, the author terminates his youth with a truly great psychological description of the "unease of adolescence." Christophe's education in social graces starts early through contact with Madame von Kerich; his thoughts on religion and morality are stimulated even before that through his conversation with his Uncle Gottfried and his close relationship with nature. All these aspects grow, develop end find ultimate fulfill ment in his old age. At the same time the author describes all the side-effects and the by-products of this growth. The reader watches in Christophe a growing thoughtfulness and skepticism, diminishing impulsiveness; also his enthusi asm, spontaneity, and consideration for others which, nevertheless, at some moments of suffering, changes into misanthropy and distrust. However, Christophe cannot hate his fellow men for long. The final and predominant senti ment of his heart is love and charity, whereas the habitual state of mind of his later years is serenity. The techniques used in portraying this process of maturation are typically noveliatic. The emphasis upon the character1s psychology is especially pronounced. The author aims to be as complete as possible. The result is an individual in a truly novelistic fashion, not a type. At the same time Jean-Christophe retains the titanic aspects which the author has visualized at his hero’s con ception and thus the hero is epic and novelistic at the same time. Another important character who plays a great part in the novel is Olivier Jeannin. Structurally, Olivier is a foil and a complement to Jean-Christophe. Stefan Zweig thinks that this is a necessity used by the author to reveal and strengthen the realistic aspect of the world presented. As if acknowledging the epic essence of Christophe’s character and the fact that Christophe is the type— the representative of his class— an artist, the critic says s Jean-Christophe est une representation de 1’artiste, mais comme toute forme et toute formule qui tente d’expliauer l’art ou 1’artiste est ndcessairement incomplete.21 Such relationship of two great heroes is not without a precedent in epic literature. Gilgamesh. The Iliad, and especially The Song of Roland are noted for the use of 2^Romain Rolland. Sa Vie - Son Oeuvre. Les Editions Pittoresques tParis: 1929)» P. 153. 255 friendship and loyalty. Furthermore, contrast helps to achieve completeness and perfection in characterization. Rolland1s Olivier is one of the most individualized and least epic characters in the book. His only epic trait is his embodiment of the French national characteristics. Olivier stands for what is typically Gallic; he is the sym bol of "l'esprit franqais" (Zweig, p. 15*0. There is practically no direct physical description of Jean-Christophe, except for the few lines at the very begin ning which tell of Christophe in his youth looking in the mirror and seeing his broad red face, prominent eyebrows, little sunken eyes, the short thick nose which as the narrator indicates is going to soften, to become enobled (II, 180). The reader knows well what Jean-Christophe is thinking, how he is feeling, but he can not visualize his physical looks. The reader also knows that Jean-Christophe has great physical strength and robust health. In this regard Olivier is a contrast. He has no physical strength, but in his face is a strange quality of candor which is most striking. C'^taient des yeux timides, mais clairs, precis, des yeux II la franqaise, qui, une fois qu'ils se fixaient erur vous, vous regardaient avec une v^rit^ absolue, qui ne oachaient rien de soi, et l i qui rien de vous n’dtait peut-etre cach^. (V, 535) Contrary to Christophe*a energy and gusto for life, Olivier is weak, delicate, incapable of fighting against 256 difficulties not from fear, but from timidity and partly from disgust with the brutal and coarse means he would have to employ to overcome it (VII, 1^3). Gentle, well-mannered, patient, and extremely sensitive, he can lay aside his timidity if he has to fight for somebody else's rights, especially when he feels he has to defend his friend Jean- Christophe. Olivier has a tremendous insight into human souls and situations. He judges correctly and analyzes brilliantly. Extremely intellectual, but well-disciplined, he has a wonderful serenity of mind. Christophe is different in this regard. Thus each one of them bears in himself the moral treasure of his own nation: Olivier, la vaste culture et le g^nie psychologique de la France; Christophe, la musique int^rieure de l'Allemagne et son intuition de la nature. (VII, I*f6-lif7) Olivier is also an artist, but of a different kind than Christophe. Stefan Zweig classifies Olivier as a sen timental artist in the sense of Schiller's theory of the naive and the sentimental artist (p. 15*0, because Olivier is "plus r^ceptif que productif" (Zweig, p. 151*). The friendship of Olivier and Christophe like the friend ship of their counterparts in real life— Schiller and Goethe— is extremely stimulating and fruitful. Grazia and Anna are also symbols of their respective countries. Especially Grazia, whose graceful tranquility is peaceful, but not stiff, is never in revolt against things or against herself. Her part in life is just "to be" (X, 258), and she represents the affirmation of Life and Beauty of the Italians. At the same time she is a sym bol of eternal womanhood. Grazia is intelligent and she understands that the society which surrounds her is a life- killing atmosphere for an artist. Therefore, she sends Christophe away from herself and away from Rome, but her influence remains in him alive. Her own peace lives within him. Christophe becomes more tolerant and appreciative of Latin art; thus more knowledgeable and mature. His soul through Grazia attains greater harmony and beauty. Like Beatrice she bids him to look into her eyes and perceive in them the reflected image of the Infinite and like a true symbol of "das ewig Weibliche" she draws him upwards. Similar functions are performed by Christophe*s mother Louisa and Olivier’s sister Antoinette, but their great love, patience and sacrifice, however beneficial and neces sary for the development of their loved ones, is not able to bring about the harmony in their souls.. The love and devotion of the mother and of the sister is a blessing; the pure love between a man and a woman has redeeming quali ties. Anna, who stifles in herself the natural passion to preserve the tradition and decorum of which she herself has 258 always been an innocent victim, because the fruit of a rebellious and unconventional union, is a symbol of Swiss stability, steadiness, endurance, and faithfulness. Sidonie and Gottfried come from the lowest stratum of society. They are uneducated, but wise in the manner of those who become wise being close to nature. It has been observed that there is a similarity of these characters with Platon Karataev by Tolstoy (Hemmings, pp. 218-219). All the members of Christophe*s and 01ivier*s respec tive families help them to develop, but not all of them have equal chances for their own development. Some succeed in achieving good results, or even salvation; the others do not succeed. Why is it so? The author does not answer definitely. Such is life. Romain Rolland is more inter ested in the "elect"; nevertheless he gives unforgettable portraits of the other members of Christophe's family. The old Jean Michael Krafft, the grandfather of Jean-Christophe, is an unhappy genius. He has ideas sometimes which he thinks admirable, but is never able to express them. Visited by inspiration, he runs tremblingly to his table, buc is not able to keep his inspiration and call to life the voices which vanish instantly. This is a great sorrow to him, and the author says that on account of this there is the seed of death in his soul (I, *+3). Christophe*s father is a "nothing." It cannot even be said that he is 259 very egotistic; he has not enough personality for that. Terrible chose dans la vie que ces gens qui ne sont rien'. Comme un paids inerte qu'on abandonne en l’air, 11s tendent k tomber, il faut absolument qu'lls tombent; et ils entralnent dans leur chute tout ce qui est avec eux. (I, ^6) Despite that they all contribute to the development of the artist, because Rolland regards artistic creation as the progressive release of interior capacity, as the revelation and not the elimination of the ego. This ego is the result of generations of preparation. The artist is in a sense a predestined being. His parentage, intellectually speaking, may be entirely humble; yet he is the flowering of a slow, obscure and uncon scious preparation taking place in those generations which have finally issued in his birth. (Cruickshank, P. 381) The fact that Christophe and Olivier do not stand alone and that family, nation and race play an important - role in their developments is an epic trait, especially since the problem, though surrounded by metaphysical and philosophi cal speculations, is not tackled from the scientific single of evolution or heredity. Furthermore, many characters are typical representatives of their nationalities, or person ify the features of the classes, professions they belong to. The main character’s physical strength, his abundance of vitality and vigor, his affirmation of life and action, his tremendous struggle for survival on the side of God marks him as an epic hero. On the other hand, the minute details of the characters' souls and their behaviour are carefully portrayed. The passions of the human heart are analyzed with an overwhelming competence and insight. There is a large scale of emotions, passions, sentiments. Even in the minor characters the author reveals their motives for action which range from pride, duplicity and passion to an incurable ennui. These aspects are not only psychologi cally correct, but they are most revealing. Romaln Rolland not only initiates the reader into the certain laws of the universe and awakens in him "the sense of mysterious and sublime" (supra. p. 15) which the great epic authors do, but also gives a tremendous and accurate insight into one self, into one's heart. More than that--he injects the reader with a hope and courage to struggle and to prevail. Such has been the effect of many great psychological nc rels. Style The style of Jean-Chrlstophe is uneven. Some passages seem redundant and badly managed; at the same time there are chapters of great simplicity, freshness and natural ness. Critics Nitze and Dargan remark: The Art of Jean Christophe is in the total effect rather than in details. Tt is not written in a choice style. There are many passages of eloquent earnestness, but the river runs muddily at times and the language becomes diffuse or slack. 2 ^William A. Nitze and E. Preston Dargan, A History of French Literature. Third Edition (New York: Henry Holt < S f c 1 Co., 193B), p. Such unevenness might, of course, be deliberate on the author’s part, because it illustrates Rolland*s own opposi tion against too much Mart" and refinement. The critics deduce this view of Holland's theory from Jean-Christophefs aesthetic theory expressed in the novel. In the final effect the unevenness of style helps to create an atmos phere of nervousness and tension when it is appropriate to the subject matter. Again, there is no effort on the author's part to achieve balance by the epic question, antithetic expressions, inclusion of opposite characteris tics, series of adjectives serving to produce shades in the descriptions and definitions. If such devices occur they aid other aims. The occasional epic question tends always in one direction and is rhetorical; the adjectives are composed, as a rule, in a successive horizontal line, not in contrasting couples or clusters. So they reinforce the monotony of the rhythm, of the flow of the river. The originality of the style is strengthened by the abundant symbolism. The river, water, and journey sym bolism has been discussed. Also has been mentioned the description of the mountain and the house symbolizing Prance and the French. Besides that, there is the symbol ism of "the market place" meaning the bourgeois society with its snobbishness, its exclusively material interests, its pretentions, recklessness, cruelty and ennui. Quite 262 prominent is the symbolism of the bells, in this novel, usually associated with water. Minor symbolic images, such as Christophe's renting a room in the "Hotel de la Civili sation" upon his first arrival in Paris, or Anna's and Christophefs stopping in the inn "Zum Wilden Mann" serve as foreshadowings of the action. The house in which Olivier and Jacqueline live is called "a sepulchre" and symbolizes the burial-place of their love. Quite uniquely literary characters or allusions are used as symbols. For example, the Faust Resurrection Scene is used to suggest and later to describe Christophe's own struggle and resurrection to Life; Olivier gently leading Christophe after his mother's death is compared to Vergil— the symbol of reason— leading Dante. Finally, practically all the names of the chapters in the book are symbols— "L'Aube," "Le Matin," "Le Buisson Ardent," "Dans la Maison," et cetera. Literary or artistic allusions occur very frequently. The author constantly and persistently mentions the names of various authors, musicians, scientists, actors, or quotes from various literary sources. The catalogue of the artists' names mentioned would take several pages. Great names of the past are mentioned together with names of the author's contemporaries. C^sar Franck, Franqois Millet, Pascal, Clouet, Dumosti&re, Corneille, Racine, Debussy, Shakespeare, Tolstoy, Strauss, and the author's friend Suar&s are but a few examples. The sources of quo tations are often classical, but there are also pieces from folklore, poems, songs and a couple of short anec dotes. Injected into the narrative are sometimes lines in the original, especially quotations from Dante’s Divine Comedy or Vergil's Aeneid. Latin sententiae are rather common. Sentences or phrases such as "quails artifex pereo" (VII, 260), "in omni re scibili" (VII, 265), "noli me tangere" (VII, 250), lend the narrative an intellectual quality, whereas such German sentences as "Ich habe genug, Bruders rette dich" (X, 397), or the Italian "Biricchina, landioncella, furbetta" (X, 379)» and "Sempre avanti; Savoial" (X, 268) contribute to the cosmopolitan character of the novel. Entirely new and singularly unique is the use in the text of musical phrases. It is an interesting innovation and might be counted as a novelistic trait, because it illustrates the author's attempt to portray life faithfully "as completely as possible" and illustrates his idea that Life is Harmony. There is practically no humor in the narrative. The description of Christophe*s appearance on the stage, or the "Kappelmeisters'" invitation to Christophe to attend the supposed rehearsal of a young composer's work are too humiliating, too ridiculous and tragic to be considered 26b humorous. Occasionally there appears an ironic touch, though there are but few characters whose dispositions are "ironic." One of these rare characters is Assyriologist Fdlix Weil. An extremely intelligent man, nervous and ironical in temper, Weil cannot respect anybody or anything for long, because he always perceives in everything some ridiculous aspect. Even his wife is not secure against his sarcasm. The author never discloses Weil’s ironic temper in a scene or dialogue, but just analyzes and describes him with a perfect accurateness and knowledge. Jean-Christophe does not have an ironic disposition but he expresses himself with a touch of irony, especially in the last period of his life. It is apt and natural that the old Christophe, mellowed and matured, occasionally uses a mild ironic statement when talking or writing to his beloved Grazia. He describes the Parisian society thus: J’ai tant mis dans mes oeuvres de mes troubles et de mes faiblesses qu’il me semble parfois commettre une mauvaise action, en lachant dans le monde ces voltes de demons. Je m'apaise, quand je vois le calme du public: il porte un triple cuirasse; rien ne saurait l’atteindre: sans quoi, je serais damnd. . . . (X, 273) Diction The language of Jean-Christophe is ornamented with images and figures of speech. Metaphor and simile are basic devices used. As a rule the comparisons are taken from everyday life and the world around. Frequently nature 2 6 5 and everyday objects made into images illustrate some abstract philosophical concept or the author’s idea con cerning Life and human destiny. . » ., montre la vie de tous les jours: elle est plus vaste que la mer. (VIII, 370) In some cases the metaphors are derived from history or mythology. Once the author speaks of the lovely Penthesilea, Queen of the Amazons, "qui mord celui qui la baise” (V, 391). Often the comparisons are derived from music and art. Elle rappelait cette jeune fille de Holbein, qui est au musde de B&le,— la fille du bourgmestre Meier,— assise, les yeux baiss^s, les mains sur ses genoux, ses cheveux pales d^nou^s sur ses ^paules, I’air gen£ de son nez disgracieux. (Ill, 292) This simile is quite long and comes near to the simile of epic tradition; but on the whole the epic similes in the novel are quite rare and not typical. In one instance the author describes the industry of Madame Roussin: Telle, 1*activity fdbrile de ces femmes, qui ont toujours un tricot entre les doigts, et qui remuent sans tr§ve les aiguilles, comme si le salut. du monde dtait attach^ A ce travail, dont elles n’ont meme pas l'emploi. Et puis, il y avait chez elle,— comme chez les "tricoteuses, la petite vanitd de l'honn§te femme, qui fait, par son exemple, la leqon aux autres femmes, (V, W-55) The author not only describes Madame Roussin*s way of life, but also indicates her certain character traits, at the same time subtly criticizing contemporary society. Obviously the epic simile is used differently from the 266 traditional way. Personification also is often used. Inanimate things, nature, abstract concepts are personified. The personifi cation of nature approaches the pathetic fallacy, as in this passage: "Le soleil s’^teignait. La nature se fanait" (VI, 98). Such usage can be justified in a real istic work only because it is in accordance with the author’s ultimate view of nature as an alive, dynamic force. Otherwise the image is too romantic. The language is made intentionally emotional by apostrophes, exclamations, questions, repetitions and other figures of speech. J'ai un ami'. . . . ^ouffrir meme avec lui . . . Ahl meme la souffranco est joie, pourvu qu'on soit ensemble! J’ai un ami! (VII, 12*+; The emotional impact is checked by frequent asides of the nature of comments: II serait po&te, quand bien meme il devrait s’enfuir de sa ville, comme Schiller, et affronter la mis&re! (D'ailleurs, la fortune de son p&re lui reviendrait tout entifere, et elle n’^tait pas mediocre) (H> 188) The questions occurring in the narrative are generally rhetorical and do not seek to provide balance, but deepen the emotional quality: "pourquoi?, pourquoi? II aurait voulu mourir!" (I, 53). The same effect is achieved by repetitions of words: "Chez ces gens, tout allait k la jouissance stdrile. Sterile. Sterile" (V, ^fll). There are also extended exclamations or invocations which become 267 poems-x>des, as a rule, honoring art and music. Notable is the ode on music: 0 musique, qui ouvres les ablutes de l'ame! Tu ruines l'dquilibre habituel de I1 esprit. Dans la vie ordi naire , les antes ordinaires sont des chambres ferm£es. Se fanent, au dedans, les forces sans emploi, les vertus et les vices dont 1'usage nous gene; la sage raison pratique, le lache sens commun, tiennent les clefs de la chambre. (IX, l*+9) This poem in prose continues for fifteen lines. Another invocation and a prayer, extremely poetic, extend for a page and a half or thirty-two lines. It starts with a rhetorical question reminiscent of the style of the Old Testament Odes and Hymns: "Mon Dieu, que t'ai-je fait? Pourquoi m'accables-tu?" (IX, 185). So, the language and the style with its tendency to create an emotional impact upon the reader and to illustrate the moods and feelings of the main character does not resemble the language and style of the epic. On the other hand, such figures of speech as exclamation and apostrophe are not lacking in the literary epics, especially in The Aeneid (Book *+, ^12) and in The Divine Comedy. J Symbolism and allusiveness are also typical devices of the literary epic (supra, p. 1*+). Specific Epic Devices There are other epic devices in the novel such as the ^ The Inferno of Dante Alighieri. The Temple Classics (New York, 195o), p. 168. 268 catalogue and repetition or summary. Rolland uses them sparingly, hut forcefully. Outstanding are the catalogues of the themes of the German songs (IV, 31-32), the list of hooks hy French authors which Christophe reads (IV, 18*+- 185). The very short catalogue of "isms" is quite modems ils se lanqaient & la tSte les mots d'id^alisme et de materialisme, de symholisme et de v^risme, de subjectivisme et d'objectivisme. (V, 372) The catalogue of Swiss "Vereine," especially its ending, shows a sense of humor unusual for Rolland. Having explained the Swiss inclination for discipline, order and conformism, the author ends his catalogue with the state ment that an attempt had heen made to form a "Verein" for the "Vereinlosen," hut no twelve such people could be found (IX, 118). All the catalogues mentioned here, except the list of authors, are tinted with satire. Thus even this purely epic device is used in a novel way. Repetition in the epic sense is rather rare and not very typical. Perhaps the retelling of Antoinette's meet ing with Christophe described by her and presenting her own point of view is such a device (VI, 85-87). More important is Jean-Christophe's vision of his life in a succession of stages of development a few moments before his death (X, 398). He~sees the immense effort of his youth to win self- possession, his desperate struggles to exact from others the bare right to live. After the victory in this field 269 comes the forced, unending vigil over his conquest. He has to defend it, even against himself. Then there is the sweetness of friendship, the fullness of art and the zenith of his life— his proud dominion over his conquered spirit. Another epic device which is used very seldom is the long speech. Though the dialogues are short as a rule and the utterances brief, the observations and remarks on the subject of art and moral values made by Olivier and Christophe are habitually very long. Typical Novelistic Devices Equally among the specific novelistic devices is the pronounced emphasis upon the psychological aspect. The author is interested primarily in the human soul, its properties, its strength and weaknesses. As a matter of fact, according to Romain Rolland, in the period of adoles cence there are myriads of little souls in one which move obscurely towards a fixed point, unknown, yet certain, just like the planetary worlds which are drawn through space into a mysterious abyss (III, Mf6). Thus while Jean- Christophe*s soul was so laboriously struggling through the network of the days une autre &me assistait en lui, attentive et sereine, & ces efforts ddsespdrds. II ne la voyait pas; mais elle jetait sur lui la reverberation de sa lumidre cachde. Cette ame dtait avide et joyeuse de sentir, de souffrir, d*observer, de comprendre ces homines, ces femmes, cette terre, ces passions, ces pensdes meme torturantes, meme mddiocres, meme viless— et 270 cela suffisait & leur communiquer un peu de ea lumi&re, A aauver Christophe du ndant. Cetje seconde ame, avide de tout etre et de tout connaitre, opposait eon rempart aux passions destructrices. (Ill, M+6-M*7) Jean-Christophe as an Epic Novel As a vast composition of gigantic dimensions, Jean- Chrlstophe is hard to fit into a traditional form. cette symphonie hdroique ne se plie en aucune fa<jon & 1*interpretation commode d'une formule; ce livre se trouve etre & la fois en dehors de toutes conventions et cependant au milieu de la vie pr^sente, au delA de la littdrature dont il est pourtant la puissant manifestation; souvent ce n'est plus de l'art, et cela donne de l'art une image tree pure. ce n'est pas un ouvrage historique, et cependant on y retrouve toute notre dpoque. C'est plus qu'une oeuvre: c'est le miracle quotidien d'un homme qui fait en lui-m$me 1*experience de la vdritd, et. du meme coup, de la vie intdgrale. (Zweig, p. 13b) With many characteristics of a Bildungsroman. Jean- Christophe is nevertheless a journey in the same sense as Dante's The Divine Comedy, or The Odyssey are journeys. In The Odyssey the character practically does not change at all; in The Divine Comedy there is a slight change, but in Jean-Christophe the change in the principal character is complete. It is more than that, because the very growth and development are minutely discussed and analyzed. The choice of the theme and the hero are not in the epic tradi tion, but they can be justified on various grounds. Ulti mately the novel is concerned with the destiny of man in his cosmic context which is the very backbone of every epic. The scope is built on a novelistic principle. Nevertheless such purely epic devices as the supernatural play an important role. The main character becomes at the end of the book a cosmopolitan one, but the national aspect remains extremely significant till the very end. Stressed is also the importance of the family and the race. Rolland*s world, despite its dynamic, ever-changing quality is still an ordered world, but it is not presented in all its proliferations. The author meticulously selects the details with which he confronts his main hero. He portrays the segment he chooses to create minutely, and in a verti cal direction; the other phases and angles of the modem universe are only suggested. The gigantic world in which modem men exist is too huge to be framed or defined; it is too multifarious for that; but what is lacking in the all- inclusiveness and formation of the concrete, self-contained, artistic universe, is replaced by the selection of the truly universal aspect of existence and a tremendous knowl edge of the human psyche. Through this vast panorama runs the unifying thread of the author's myth of God as an Eternal Fighter and the artist as the bearer of God, as God's helper. This is Rolland's contribution as an epic author to "the mysterious, the awful, and the sublime which uplifts and calms the strife of frail humanity" (supra, p. 15). Equally great and soothing is the idea that a soul like a body grows, matures and, unlike the body, prevails. The question of the rebirth is only suggested and not por trayed concretely, as in War and Peace where the pulsation of life is illustrated by the succession of generations, or by the movement of nations from West to East and back manifesting itself in the Franco-Russian War. Holland’s novel, therefore, is more speculative, and perhaps more philosophical than War and Peace. or perhaps it is more "a novel." The main hero, though a talented and an exceptional man, is an epic character. A representative of the middle- class of society by birth, Christophe is an aristocrat of the soul and, according to the author’s view of the artist, he is an "elect," a leader of humanity, its benefactor, the "salt of the world." Christophe is not bom a genius. He has to develop, to struggle. He fights heroically, cour ageously, patiently. This fight is epic, but the great realism and the psychological touch with which the author portrays this struggle lend to the entire work a novelistic aspect and create a correct impression of life. On the whole Jean-Christophe shows many epic charac teristics. Though the author makes use of techniques and devices which as a rule appear in the novel and emphasizes the growth and development of the hero typical in the Bildungsroman. his vision is that of the epic poet. The conception and the effect of his work are definitely epic. CHAPTER V CONCLUSION Tolatov*e Influence upon RomaIn Rnl1 and from the Aesthetic ^oint of View Romain Rolland maintains that Tolstoy offered him his first "unequaled model for the new Epic" (supra, p. 6). Furthermore he has no douht of the epic quality of the "geste"— Jean-Christophe and admits that the inspiration for it came from War and Peace# Both works can be classified as "epic novels"— as prose narratives of immense scope, expressing their authored profound visions of the universe, Tolstoy sees Life as pulsation, the eternal rhythm; Rolland as an eternal strug gle and continuous change. The characters are lifelike, the setting is realistic, the final impression is that of actuality. Nevertheless from the aesthetic point of view there are in the novels marked differences. Tolstoy’s theme is one of a more general nature and it is more profound in its simplicity, largeness and realism; Rolland*s is more specific. The design for the scope in Tolstoy is that of an epic; the psychological moments are evidential, but not 273 conspicuous* Romain Rolland uses the epic design only in the device of "the journey," but otherwise the principles followed in the building up of the scope are those gener ally used in the novel. The detail of the scope is more poetic than realistic. War and Peace is a national epopee* The historical ingredient is used in the manner of the epic poet, but the analysis of history reminds one of the typi cal attitudes of the novelist. Jean-Christophe is a cos mopolitan work, or better--a European work. As Lucien Price says, Romain Rolland "has written a European book, perhaps the one European book since Paust*^“ Nevertheless, despite its cosmopolitan aspect, Jean-Christophe is an honest appraisal and able analysis of the very soul and temperament of several nations. The supernatural appears in both of the novels. Tolstoy presents it vexy definitely but by implication. It emanates naturally from the very theme and structure of his novel. The structure suggests a unified, orderly world, based upon logical laws though not always grasped and understood by man. Rolland brings in the supernatural element directly, and through accidents in the action and unexpected turns of events suggests the interference of certain agencies existing in a realm beyond the perception of human senses. Prom there they influence l"Saga Symphonie of Romain Rolland," Atlantic Monthly. LXXXVII (January-June, 1926), 71-81. 275 our visible world. There is also a marked difference between the two books in atmosphere and tone, Tolstoy is objective despite his personal and unique idea of the role of history in human affairs, Rolland is much more subjective and didac tic, He deals to a large extent with the matters of the soul, examines and evaluates its realm and its manifesta tions. The atmosphere is serene, the pace unhurried, the typical retarding elements abundant in the first; the atmosphere serious, the pace nervous though monotonous and leisurely, the retarding elements few, repetitions infre quent in the second writer's work. In the construction Tolstoy shows a novelist's inven tiveness coupled with certain epic conventions— such as a modified mediae res device, the typical epic ending, the scenic method of narrative. Rolland uses the Bildungs- roman's chronological method (which nevertheless is also the method of the Icelandic sagas) with no variations; his created world is panoramic, the narrative method— pictorial, but the ending of the novel is typically epic. Where Tolstoy introduces the scientific method and manner to expound his historical views, Rolland supplies much infor mation on art, presents by narration and dialogue an aesthetic theory and occasionally uses in the narrative musical phrases to suggest the relation of his theme to * : W * ' 276 I music and the closeness of musical composition to Ills own method. Both novels gain through these techniques an intellectual depth. The Russian novelist's leading characters are aristo crats. They are Individualized, but remain pre-eminently types exhibiting some basic, universal trait. Therefore, it is easy for the reader to identify himself with them. The French artist's main personages are of the middle- class, but they are the "elect"; they are the "aristocrats of the soul." As such they are carefully individualized, but they remain types from the national point of view and should be recognized as representatives of the nations in nineteenth century Europe. For Tolstoy a true hero is he who fulfills the Nature's designated law, no matter how I humbly or how low. The "great" of the world do not mean anything in the eternal cosmic perspective if they lack this wisdom. For Rolland the heroic aspect lies in the fulfillment of one's destiny, in the development of one's personal talents to the utmost and in obeying God's will. The style and diction of both novels are poetic, but in different ways. The concreteness, imagery and specificity of Tolstoy are counterbalanced by the emotional language of Holland. There is a basic symbolism in War and Peace which expresses the ultimate destiny of the world and of humanity. There is an over-all symbolism, more specific and definite in Jean-Christophe. which in poetic terms defines the properties and the vibrations of the human soul. As a rule Tolstoy uses a concrete image, an apt epithet, or a comparison taken from the familiar environ ment to show a character feature or to denote a psychologi cal change. Rolland uses a symbol, or an archetypal image— such as water— or a great number of details to reveal what is going on in the human soul. Allusiveness is greatly predominant in Romain Rolland*s work; however, both novels contain not only scientific, literary, and philosophical information, but also meditative speculation and their author’s mental views. Nevertheless Holland*s vision is much more burdened with connotative words expres sing the weighty contents of the sum total of aesthetic theories and other philosophical ponderings of the Western man, whose self-consciousness and nervous wisdom lie upon his heart like a terrible burden. Tolstoy's portrait of the man is less complicated, calmer, more serene— his relationship with nature less sophisticated. Whether these qualities come from Tolstoy's own environment and the tradition behind his art which he mentions in the notes on War and Peace (supra, p. 178) is impossible to deter mine. It has to remain a matter of speculation, despite all reverence which one feels to the great author’s per sonal opinion. 278 Tha Literary Kinship of Leo N. Tolstoy and Romain Holland If Tolstoy's work has been often compared with Homer and thus to the folk-epic, Rolland*s novel shows more affinities to The Aeneid by Vergil or The Divine Comedy by Dante and the literary epic in general. Obviously, bearing these affinities in mind, Romain Rolland was quite correct in his remark on Tolstoy, that he never imitated him, because their powers were too far apart (supra, p. 6) but he also was very accurate in insisting that Tolstoy's influence upon him was very strong aesthetically (supra, p. 6). Tolstoy inspired Rolland to write a new epic. Admiring the great master, Rolland followed his manner of writing in the same fashion as Vergil had followed Homer's, and the kinship between Tolstoy and Rolland is very similar to the kinship of the ancient Greek bard and the Roman poet. Homer started a new genre in the Western litera ture; Vergil, it is said, perfected its form. Tolstoy created a new genre of the epic novel and perfected its theme. Rolland went further in the same direction changing inventing, introducing more novelistic elements and thus formally bringing the epic novel to the very edge of its possibilities. Both Leo Tolstoy and Romain Rolland set the prototypes. Rolland, stressing and developing the psychological and spiritual aspects, showed that the human soul can be handled in a literary work in an epic frame. It still has to he seen whether it ie possible to go farther in the same direction; but in the dynamic form of the novel there is no limitation to any relative possibili ties. What is necessary is the deep, novel, more compre hensive view of reality. In the modem age of space and science new vistas are opening rapidly, and the formal models created by two great artists are also ready. BIBLI OGR AP HY BIBLIOGRAPHY Primary Sources Rolland, Romain. Jean-Christophe. Nouvelle Edition. Parisi Societd D'Editions Littdraires et Artistiques, Librairie Ollendorf, 1926. Tolstoy, Leo. War and Peace. Translated by Louise and Aylmer Maude• New Revised Edition. New York: The Heritage Press, 1938. Woina i Mir. Sobranie Soohinenni. Moskva: tSros. Izd— vo (Shudozh. Literaturi, 196^. Vols. 8-9. ________• "Some Words about War and Peace.” published in Russian Archive 1868, reprinted In War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy, translated by Louise and Aylmer Maude. New Revised Edition. New York: The Heritage Press, 1938. Vol. II, pp. 8^7-857. Secondary Sources Abercrombie, Lascelles. The Epic. New York: George H. Doran Co., 191^. Arcos, Rend. Romain Rolland. 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Asset Metadata

Creator Tumas, Elena Valiute (author)

Core Title The Literary Kinship Of Leo N. Tolstoy And Romain Rolland: A Comparativestudy Of The Epic Dimensions Of 'War And Peace' And 'Jean-Christophe'

Degree Doctor of Philosophy

Degree Program Comparative Literature

Publisher University of Southern California (original), University of Southern California. Libraries (digital)

Tag Literature, Modern,OAI-PMH Harvest

Language English

Contributor Digitized by ProQuest (provenance)

Advisor Belle, Rene F. (committee chair), Hadley, Paul E. (committee member), Lopatin, Ivan Alexievich (committee member), O'Neil, Edward N. (committee member)

Permanent Link (DOI) https://doi.org/10.25549/usctheses-c18-337755

Unique identifier UC11359174

Identifier 6409628.pdf (filename),usctheses-c18-337755 (legacy record id)

Legacy Identifier 6409628.pdf

Dmrecord 337755

Document Type Dissertation

Rights Tumas, Elena Valiute

Type texts

Source University of Southern California (contributing entity), University of Southern California Dissertations and Theses (collection)

Access Conditions The author retains rights to his/her dissertation, thesis or other graduate work according to U.S. copyright law. Electronic access is being provided by the USC Libraries in agreement with the au...

Repository Name University of Southern California Digital Library

Repository Location USC Digital Library, University of Southern California, University Park Campus, Los Angeles, California 90089, USA