Saturday 21 September 2019

In Which We Discuss War and Peace, Part 11 Chapters 8 and 9

Chapter 8

We're now back to Pierre, at the end of the battle of Borodino.  The shine has definitely gone off the battle for him.  He wants to go home, to his cosy bed and normal life, so he can make sense of everything he's seen and felt today.  He's no longer being shot at, but, as he rides along, it is very clear to him that he is still on the field of battle.  Mostly, it's the dead and wounded soldiers that give it away.  A few miles along the road, he sits down to stare into the shadows, still constantly expected cannonballs to whiz past him.  Three soldiers light a fire near him, but want to know who he is before offering him food, which is fair enough.  Pierre doesn't reveal his full social position, but does admit to being a militia officer without his men.  He calls himself Peter Kirilych.  The soldiers let him ride with them until they run into his groom while passing the inn Pierre is staying at.

Chapter 9

Pierre tries to sleep in his cosy room at the inn, but he keeps having little flashbacks to the battle.  He's ashamed that he was so cowardly, especially compared to the soldiers around him.  He's envious of all soldiers, believing they have cast out the "superfluous, devilish burden" of their outer man to become cogs in a machine, and wonders how he can possibly do the same himself.  He believes he could have if he'd left his father before the death of the old count, or if he'd gone to serve as a soldier after the duel with Dolokhov.  Pierre manages to fall asleep and dreams of his old Lodge benefactor.  Also, Anatole and Dolokhov are there.  He is woken before he can fully understand what is benefactor is saying, which greatly upsets him because he's pretty sure the world would have been a very simple place if he'd only understood a little more.  Pierre leaves the town with the army, and offers a lift to Moscow to a wounded general of his acquaintance.  The general tells him of the deaths of Anatole and Andrew.


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