In Which We Discuss War and Peace, Part 10, Chapters 18 and 19

Chapter 18

Pierre's reading a newspaper which states that the French will most definitely not enter Moscow, but it's a good thing that the ladies and tradesmens wives are leaving.  From this, Pierre understands that the French definitely will enter Moscow.  There's also a bit about how the French are definitely defeated, but weapons are being made available for the inhabitants of Moscow just because they want them so much.  Pierre feels like the great thing he has been hoping for, the destiny of his soul, is drawing close.  He mentally debates whether or not he should join the service, and tries to make a deal with the game of patience he's playing to show him his destiny.  He's not yet decided what will indicate what when he's interrupted by his eldest half-sister, who I don't think we've heard from since book 1.  Pierre takes this as an omen that he should join the army even before inviting her in.  She's come to beg to leave Moscow, preferably for St Petersburg, because she's convinced Napoleon will win.  Pierre isn't, but lets her leave anyway.  He shows her the broadsheets he's been reading to try to comfort her, which is an interesting choice since he took the opposite message from them.

Later that day, Pierre's head steward tells him that raising a regiment will ruin him, and that he needs to sell an estate just to afford their equipment.  Pierre tells him to sell, because they can't back out now.  Pierre is pleased with the catastrophe, because he's pretty sure it's all about his great destiny, and the making of him as a man.  Everyone has already left town, including Julie and Mary.  Only the Rostovs remain.

Pierre takes a day trip out to a nearby village, and, on the way back, interrupts the flogging of an accused French spy.  He demands to know what's happening.  When the Frenchman begins crying, he runs back to his carriage and demands to be taken home.

Pierre leaves Moscow on the 24th.  While travelling, he learns of a great battle that evening (the battle of Shevardino) but no one can tell him who won.  The next day he arrives at Mozhaysk, which has soldiers quartered in every house.  As he moves further into the warzone, he feels more and more alive, and as if he is involved in something very important and greater than himself.

Chapter 19

This chapter zooms out again, to a broader view of the war.  Specifically the battles of the Shevardino Redoubt, on the 24th of August, and the battle of Borodino on the 26th, with peace between them.  The battles made no sense for either side; it made both the destruction of Moscow and the destruction of the French army more likely.  Tolstoy criticises the way many historians look for evidence that what happened was what was intended all along.  He theorises that Russia's win was more about dumb luck than intentional strategy.  He also criticises attempts to fit the Greek one-Hero narrative onto modern warfare, which isn't about single heroic people and events, but more about a whole crowd of different wills.  He summarises the historians position, that the Russians retreated from Smolensk and looked for the best position for a general engagement, which was Borodino.  They then purposefully fortified it in preparation for the war.  Tolstoy says this is bollocks (paraphrased), and that there was no evidence of fortification in the places described.  Before the 25th of August, there's no evidence anyone thought Borodino would be the site of the battle.  Tolstoy cites the reports written by Kutuzov, Barclay de Tolly and Bagration as evidence.  There is evidence that a site was fortified, and it was a site nearby, and much better in every way, except for the fact that it didn't happen to be where the battle occured.  Tolstoy labours on this for another page or so.  I understand that this was the book Tolstoy wanted to write, but, much like the multipage essay on trees in The Princess Bride*, it makes my eyes glaze over.

*The general conceit of the Princess Bride is that it was a history first written by S. Morgenstern, with William Goldman cutting out all the boring bits, like the essays on trees.