Classics and the Western Canon discussion

Do you remember Andrey's transformation between the first and second times he rode past the old oak? In book 8 we witness a similar change in Pierre, beginning with the first paragraph of chapter 1:

...................
After Prince Andrew's engagement to Natasha, Pierre without any apparent cause suddenly felt it impossible to go on living as before. Firmly convinced as he was of the truths revealed to him by his benefactor, and happy as he had been in perfecting his inner man, to which he had devoted himself with such ardor- all the zest of such a life vanished after the engagement of Andrew and Natasha and the death of Joseph Alexeevich, the news of which reached him almost at the same time. Only the skeleton of life remained: his house, a brilliant wife who now enjoyed the favors of a very important personage, acquaintance with all Petersburg, and his court service with its dull formalities. And this life suddenly seemed to Pierre unexpectedly loathsome. He ceased keeping a diary, avoided the company of the Brothers, began going to the Club again, drank a great deal, and came once more in touch with the bachelor sets, leading such a life that the Countess Helene thought it necessary to speak severely to him about it. Pierre felt that she right, and to avoid compromising her went away to Moscow.
.......................

and culminating with the last paragraph of chapter 22:

.......................
It was clear and frosty. Above the dirty, ill-lit streets, above the black roofs, stretched the dark starry sky. Only looking up at the sky did Pierre cease to feel how sordid and humiliating were all mundane things compared with the heights to which his soul had just been raised. At the entrance to the Arbat Square an immense expanse of dark starry sky presented itself to his eyes. Almost in the center of it, above the Prechistenka Boulevard, surrounded and sprinkled on all sides by stars but distinguished from them all by its nearness to the earth, its white light, and its long uplifted tail, shone the enormous and brilliant comet of 18l2- the comet which was said to portend all kinds of woes and the end of the world. In Pierre, however, that comet with its long luminous tail aroused no feeling of fear. On the contrary he gazed joyfully, his eyes moist with tears, at this bright comet which, having traveled in its orbit with inconceivable velocity through immeasurable space, seemed suddenly- like an arrow piercing the earth- to remain fixed in a chosen spot, vigorously holding its tail erect, shining and displaying its white light amid countless other scintillating stars. It seemed to Pierre that this comet fully responded to what was passing in his own softened and uplifted soul, now blossoming into a new life.
............................

What has happened?

I keep thinking of Natasha and wondering how many girls would respond the way she did to her circumstances. What do you think?

Laurele wrote: "I keep thinking of Natasha and wondering how many girls would respond the way she did to her circumstances. What do you think?"

How old was she? Seventeen?

It is an age for being impatient, for being a drama queen, for needing fairly constant reinforcement of good feelings,....

How much education is she likely to have had?

Her mother says in book 7 that she is worried about Natasha because she has "too much" of something. I've never figured out what that "something" was. Too much passion for life? Too much sensitivity? Too much faith in people? Given her experience in book 8 I was inclined to think it was more a lack of something (lack of some natural restraint or cautious inner voice) than an excess of something. However, I see that others in the family, including the old count and Nickolas, share some of this reckless exuberance for getting swept up in the moment. Maybe it's a family trait.

Natasha didn't have her mother to turn to at this moment in her life when she was at the Moscow opera (the countess was ill) and experiencing this flood of strange emotions. As a result, she looked to the nearest older woman (Helene) for guidance on how to behave. I can appreciate how surreal the whole experience at the opera was:

Natasha little by little began to pass into a state of intoxication she had not experienced for a long while. She did not realize who and where she was, nor what was going on before her. As she looked and thought, the strangest fancies unexpectedly and disconnectedly passed through her mind: the idea occurred to her of jumping onto the box and singing the air the actress was singing, then she wished to touch with her fan an old gentleman sitting not far from her, then to lean over to Helene and tickle her,

Theresa wrote: "...the idea occurred to her of jumping onto the box and singing the air the actress was singing, then she wished to touch with her fan an old gentleman sitting not far from her, then to lean over to Helene and tickle her, ..."

Thanks for bringing that excerpt to our attention! :-o

Theresa wrote: "Her mother says in book 7 that she is worried about Natasha because she has "too much" of something. I've never figured out what that "something" was. Too much passion for life? Too much sensiti..."

Would it be too much passion?

I still need to finish this section, but I didn't know if this comment of mine was better placed in this thread or the previous?

It has occurred to me that there are many similarities with Andrey's initial excitement and then disillusionment with the army and Pierre's excitement for and then disillusionment in the Masons. I keep hoping poor good-hearted Pierre will pull out and overcome as as Andrey has.

Laurele wrote: "Do you remember Andrey's transformation between the first and second times he rode past the old oak? In book 8 we witness a similar change in Pierre, beginning with the first paragraph of chapter 1..."

A very, very good question. I didn't see the question, let alone look for an answer. On rereading the last chapter, I think his heart is lifted because he has felt an unselfish compassion for Natasha. So Natasha's terrible botching has brought something very good to Pierre. He talks about marrying her, but only as a counterfactual, and only because he knows that what he says really will comfort a girl who now thinks she is unmarriageable. His compassion is intelligent and intuitive: he doesn't say any of the awful things people say when they feel pity but don't really understand. He says what will actually touch her. That bring him an awareness of his own best self, and of the possibility of connection with people.

Just wanted to point out something else that has come up in the earlier discussions re the so-called cruelty that sometimes transpires:

Another lately added sorrow arose from the lessons she gave her six year-old nephew. To her consternation she detected in herself in relation to little Nicholas some symptoms of her father's irritability. However often she told herself that she must not get irritable when teaching her nephew, almost every time that, pointer in hand, she sat down to show him the French alphabet, she so longed to pour her own knowledge quickly and easily into the child- who was already afraid that Auntie might at any moment get angry- that at his slightest inattention she trembled, became flustered and heated, raised her voice, and sometimes pulled him by the arm and put him in the corner. Having put him in the corner she would herself begin to cry over her cruel, evil nature, and little Nicholas, following her example, would sob... (book 8 ch2)

I think that not all of the friction between Princess Mary and her father is the result of cruelty - I think maybe he just doesn't have an aptitude for teaching - and neither does she. The passage above is one of the few places where we can see what, if anything, the Princess has in common with her father.

Patrice wrote: "I have to go back and read this part carefully but from the quote, I'm not sure that this is about teaching ability, What comes to my mind is this constant conflict between the real and the ideal...."

The same struggle that the apostle confesses:

Romans 7:15-20 (KJV)
For that which I do I allow not:for what I would, that do I not; but what I hate, that do I. If then I do that which I would not, I consent unto the law that it is good. Now then it is no more I that do it, but sin that dwelleth in me. For I know that in me (that is, in my flesh,) dwelleth no good thing:for to will is present with me; but how to perform that which is good I find not. For the good that I would I do not:but the evil which I would not, that I do. Now if I do that I would not, it is no more I that do it, but sin that dwelleth in me.

It sounds as if we, as Tolstoy's readers, struggle with what part of cruelty is intentional and what is not. What little I know of Tolstoy's biography suggests such was central to the drama of his marriage. One can certainly see similar struggles in other works by Tolstoy (e.g., the triangle in A.K.). Cruelty may get defined by both the giver and the receiver, not necessarily concurrently.

The example between Mary and her nephew is touching because it so adroitly describes the catch-22 aspects of the situation. (A child with the authenticity to make clear "you are cruel", but in my heart of hearts, I know you do not intend to be cruel. Mary could never quite bring herself to that with her father. Did Tolstoy intuitively know a Bolkonski boy wouldn't quite not stand up for self.)

Patrice wrote: "...I think we can be cruel without intent...."

Most definitely. Only too easily.

But can we be held morally responsible?

Why not? At least in many cases.

I just finished reading a chapter in a book about parenting methods.

I am struck by the absolute cruelty, by today's standards, in which parents treated their children in times past.

A thousand years ago infanticide and abandonment were common practices (I read a claim that every family had murdered or abandoned at least one child). Sexual molestation, rape, battery, all things criminal today were accepted.

Practices have been progressively changing, but two hundred years ago they were not what we see today.

"In Paris in 1780, of the 21,000 children born in the city, 17,000 were sent out to the country [to wet nurses]" ... "Infant mortality rates of 50 per cent prevailed" Parenting for a Peaceful World Wet nurses were considered little more than professional killers, with a one-third dying. It became a joke amongst society.

"Although ambivalent mode parenting was an incremental step forward from abandonment, it may have only been a small improvement for children. Parents began attempting to keep their children close, but under conditions of strict control. It is as if parents were collectively saying to their children, 'I'll keep you if I can mould you, or thrash you into shape'"

These are children who grew up accustomed (if I can say that) to severe beatings.

As I have read the chapters (in the aforementioned book) about child rearing in the past, I can't help but wonder if the people thought it was cruel. Were they being cruel, or were they doing exactly what they thought good and right with a pure heart?

I wish I was a fly on the wall to watch. It is so hard to judge these people by our standards.

Laurele wrote: "I keep thinking of Natasha and wondering how many girls would respond the way she did to her circumstances. What do you think?"

Here's what I think. It seems to me that Tolstoy has uncannily caught the thoughts of numberless teenage girls in Natasha. They have not yet developed the ability to act rationally about their hormones, and they need the protection of parents and rules and right teaching to keep them away from some real dangers.

Yes, Rousseau is discussed in this book.

Rousseau advised people to love childhood and to indulge its games and pleasures...Rousseau pleaded with parents to nurture their babies at home, to throw out their swaddling bands and allow them freedom of movement

A paragraph later:
Not even Rousseau's philosophising was matched by his actions. He abandoned every one of his five children at foundling homes, without bothering to record their birth-dates.

The swaddling - for the entire day with no respite - is so hard to consider.

I know that psychical touch stimulates oxytocin production in both mother and child - this is the hormone that makes us love a person. Touch is essential.

While I have trouble believe these people (bringing it back to the novel) could be cruel to their offspring, because essentially they are the same people that we are today, I can see that the absence of stimulation could possibly mean that they did not love their children.

I.e. No touch = no bonding/love

Thanks for the info about Tolstoy, I didn't know that, and it is quiet impressive.

But what is the natural way? It must have seemed so natural back then. I guess I am wondering whether the way we nurture (ie touching) can affect our disposition towards the child.

As for nursing, bleeding, pain etc. A sad outcome of societies where the young woman do not get to see mothers breastfeeding. Even today often the first time a woman sees a breastfeeding child it is her own... I know my first was incredibly painful, bleeding, toe-curling to the point that I thought the long (unmedicated) childbirth was easier than the first two weeks of breastfeeding. Thankfully we have support (La Leche, ABA etc) to help us.

I am digressing from the topic of course. My original thought was whether the cruelty felt cruel at the time, given that some of these practices were widespread and accepted.

I wonder if the people who have declined to read War and Peace because the think it is long and dry realize just how much human drama there is in this book?

Laurele wrote: "I wonder if the people who have declined to read War and Peace because the think it is long and dry realize just how much human drama there is in this book?"

edit: typed a long answer to Laurele's comment but decided to move it to the Tea Shot

Patrice wrote: "I was surprised when i first went to Paris to see there were no playgrounds."

It's funny that thought never occurred to me while I was there when I was 18, but now that you mention it, I think you're completely right. I just remembered the beautiful fountains in the parks and all the couples holding hands, but nope, not a single playground!

Laurele wrote: "I wonder if the people who have declined to read War and Peace because the think it is long and dry realize just how much human drama there is in this book?"

I thought it was going to be long and dry, and it took me a while to get into it, but wow how it grows on you. The characters are so human and relatable! There's soo much depth in the writing concerning the relationships and interactions!

Jeremy wrote: "I thought it was going to be long and dry, and it took me a while to get into it, but wow how it grows on you. The characters are so human and relatable! There's soo much depth in the writing concerning the relationships and interactions!
"

So true!

Jeremy wrote: "I thought it was going to be long and dry, and it took me a while to get into it, but wow how it grows on you. The characters are so human and relatable! There's soo much depth in the writing concerning the relationships and interactions! "

I found the same with Anna Karenina... after the first several chapters I put it aside and went on the great YA binge of 2011 (lol). When I returned to it I wanted to slap myself with a nasty pile of crappy dystopian novels written by authors that have no business writing.

Oh Anna Karenina is the best novel ever written. It is amazing. It blew my mind. If The Old Man and the Sea and The Catcher in the Rye were the two books that made me realise good writing existed, then Anna Karenina was the book that made me burst with emotion that writing good be so good.

Funny I owe my love of Tolstoy to Jane Austen... She wrote Sense and Sensibility, which Ben Winters turned into the brilliant mash-up Sense and Sensibility and Sea Monsters, of course I was so impressed with his mash-up abilities that I wanted to read Android Karenina (mashed-up by him), but of course I had to first read the original... and hence the moment when I discovered that true greatness in writing exists.

Patrice wrote: On second reading what impressed me so much about the opera was how false it all was.

Yes, the artifice of it all was surreal. I reckon opera seems bizarre to anyone who sees it for the first time, a young impressionable teenager would be no exception.

Those wily Kuragan's trapped both Pierre and Natasha.

Really, what did Helene do to trap Pierre, exactly? lean over to expose her cleavage? They are about the same age aren't they? Or she is younger..

Theresa wrote: "....Really, what did Helene do to trap Pierre, exactly? lean over to expose her cleavage? ..."

I have always found fascinating these two contrasting descriptions of Lise and Helene:

"....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. Everyone brightened at the sight of this pretty young woman, so soon to become a mother, so full of life and health, and carrying her burden so lightly. Old men and dull dispirited young ones who looked at her, after being in her company and talking to her a little while, felt as if they too were becoming, like her, full of life and health. All who talked to her, and at each word saw her bright smile and the constant gleam of her white teeth, thought that they were in a specially amiable mood that day.

"The little princess went round the table with quick, short, swaying steps, her workbag on her arm, and gaily spreading out her dress sat down on a sofa near the silver samovar, as if all she was doing was a pleasure to herself and to all around her."

TOLSTOY, LEO (2011-03-20). Delphi Complete Works of Leo Tolstoy (Illustrated) (Kindle Locations 14225-14232). Delphi Classics. Kindle Edition. Book 1, Chapter 2

"'Come over here, Helene, dear,' said Anna Pavlovna to the beautiful young princess who was sitting some way off, the center of another group. The princess smiled.

"She rose with the same unchanging smile with which she had first entered the room — the smile of a perfectly beautiful woman. With a slight rustle of her white dress trimmed with moss and ivy, with a gleam of white shoulders, glossy hair, and sparkling diamonds, she passed between the men who made way for her, not looking at any of them but smiling on all, as if graciously allowing each the privilege of admiring her beautiful figure and shapely shoulders, back, and bosom — which in the fashion of those days were very much exposed — and she seemed to bring the glamour of a ballroom with her as she moved toward Anna Pavlovna. Helene was so lovely that not only did she not show any trace of coquetry, but on the contrary she even appeared shy of her unquestionable and all too victorious beauty. She seemed to wish, but to be unable, to diminish its effect.

"'How lovely!' said everyone who saw her; and the vicomte lifted his shoulders and dropped his eyes as if startled by something extraordinary when she took her seat opposite and beamed upon him also with her unchanging smile.

"'Madame, I doubt my ability before such an audience,' said he, smilingly inclining his head."

Ibid. (Kindle Locations 14309-14322). Book 1, Chapter 3.

Theresa wrote: "Patrice wrote: Those wily Kuragan's trapped both Pierre and Natasha."

Really, what did Helene do to trap Pierre, exactly? lean over to expose her cleavage? They are about the same age aren't they? Or she is younger..

It is what she didn't do that makes it clear she trapped him. She didn't actually love him, but she pretended to. She physically did all the things that a lover does - lingers alone with her etc.

Pierre did these things too, but we have the benefit of what he was thinking. He was apathetic about the match, he was summoning the wherewithal to step back from the union. Alas he was too late and the whily Vasili intervened and forced the union.

What she didn't do was intervene at any point. We could argue that she was in the same position as Pierre, and was also a pawn of her father - however we know that Helene is very much a powerful player. I believe Tolstoy makes this clear, he would have shown us her inner conflict if there had been any... Instead she is well aware of the rules of engagement, she knows that all she has to do is be associated with Pierre, be left alone with him occasionally, dance with him, flirt with him, etc etc, and then he will be forced to marry her for no other reason than society says that he must. She played this game.

It reminds me of modern day gold digger... a beautiful young lady who attaches herself to a very rich older man (typically close to his death bed). On one hand she is being conniving, on the other hand we must argue that he is also an adult, in control of his faculties, and well able to reject her advances. So perhaps in his old age he chooses to spend his money on a beautiful young wife, maybe he willingly and knowingly makes that choice.

We know this was not the case for Pierre, he did not want the union, he did feel entrapped, he wanted to get out of it but through his own inabilities found himself married.

Cass wrote: "Pierre did these things too, but we have the benefit of what he was thinking."

This is because Tolstoy chose to develop the character of Pierre but chose not to develop the character of Helene. I don't think we ever see what Helene is thinking. Anyway, both of them are young and do what is expected of them. Tolstoy fully admits (I don't want to get ahead of the story) that nearly everyone who comes into contact with her (including Kutuzov) enjoys her company. She doesn't judge people. Yes, I agree with the author that this sort of person is shallow, but really, not evil at all. I even think those sorts of women at that time in history did a service to society by providing forums for women to exchange ideas with men within these salons that they hosted (it was sort of halfway between private and public and in those days women were not permitted to express their ideas in public).

As to the father, he reminds me of the story of Anne Boleyn (second wife to Henry VIII). Anne's brother was also a bit on the nasty, ambitious side. Anne - like Helene, Princess Mary, and Sonya - was a motherless child, raised by a father.

Thx for drawing attention to the parallels with Homer, Patrice.

I find myself asking to what extent to compare Helene in W&P with Madonna or Lady Gaga in our age. Somehow, Helene, despite the salon role she may have learned, at least partly under Anna Pavlovna, has never come across to me, as Tolstoy has portrayed her, as nearly as astute or as much a political force as Anna Pavlovna. (Anna does have some royal patronage -- the Dowager Empress -- in whose behest she can act to at least some considerable extent.)

I haven't read the Iliad though I do remember Helene from the Odyssey.

Speaking of Greek mythology, I often think of Athena when I think of motherless women - sprung from the head of Zeus.

Athena also sealed the fate of Medusa (because she conceived with Poseidon inside a temple to athena) causing men to hate her henceforth (turning her hair to snakes or some such..) and so began the story of misogyny within the evolution of western civilization.

Theresa wrote: "Athena also sealed the fate of Medusa (because she conceived with Poseidon inside a temple to athena) causing men to hate her henceforth (turning her hair to snakes or some such..) and so began the story of misogyny within the evolution of western civilization..."

You lost me, Theresa. Certainly there is misogyny, or at the least, chauvinism, in Athena springing directly from the head of Zeus? Or in the spates of Hera and Zeus?

You lost me, Theresa.

In the punishment of Medusa. I suppose it is a bit off-topic.

Patrice wrote: "Isn't it a little odd how Tolstoy, who doesn't believe in the great man theory, emphasizes the effect that one person can have on all of those around him?"

Yes, it is.

Patrice wrote: "The infinite sky makes us realize how small we are. I'm not sure if Tolstoy is thinking of heaven or God or not. But there is something similar going on, I think. Maybe it's the idea that there are forces that are bigger, stronger and more controlling than we are."

I agree, I think there's this and perhaps a little bit of awe in wonder at the beauty of that above earth as compared to the horror and sadness on the earth, perhaps?

Jeremy wrote: "I agree, I think there's this and perhaps a little bit of awe in wonder at the beauty of that above earth as compared to the horror and sadness on the earth, perhaps? ..."

Oh, Jeremy, when I look out at the universe and realize for the distance that we can "see" and then turn back to the uniqueness of Earth, I see the beauty and grandeur of either -- and hope (and pray?) humankind is up to the privilege and responsibilities it has in the universe -- i.e., on this Earth.

Lily wrote: " I see the beauty and grandeur of either"

I totally agree! I was thinking more along the lines of what Patrice wrote about and perhaps rather than stating "the earth" I meant more the suffering that takes place on this earth because of the violence and turmoil, (ie. the battle and destruction Andrew was in the middle of, and later the inner battle and destruction that had taken place in his heart because of the death of his wife.)

When I'm hit with a trying experience or even just a length of time enduring the mundane I'll often look out a window to catch a glimpse of the beauty of this world to help lift me up and keep going! :-)

Theresa wrote: "Cass wrote: "Pierre did these things too, but we have the benefit of what he was thinking."

This is because Tolstoy chose to develop the character of Pierre but chose not to develop the character ..."

Theresa, Helene did have a mother. The father sent her in to check on the two "lovers," and then he did the entrapping by congratulating on their nonexistent engagement.

Laurele wrote: "Theresa, Helene did have a mother..."

Ah, I must have missed that. Thanks for clearing that up.

Laurele wrote: "...Theresa, Helene did have a mother. The father sent her to check on the two "lovers," and then he did the entrapping by congratulating on their nonexistent engagement. .."

Besides Book 3, Chapter II, where Prince Vasili's wife (Helene's mother), sometimes called "the old princess" or just "the princess," appears several times, she will reappear much later in the book. Here is the early situation to which Laurele refers:

"'Aline,' he said to his wife, 'go and see what they are about.'

"The princess went up to the door, passed by it with a dignified and indifferent air, and glanced into the little drawing room. Pierre and Helene still sat talking just as before."

TOLSTOY, LEO (2011-03-20). Delphi Complete Works of Leo Tolstoy (Illustrated) (Kindle Locations 20660-20663). Delphi Classics. Kindle Edition.

There are several other references to "Aline" (not by name) in that chapter, including the following, to me suggesting another dysfunctional aspect of the Kuragin family that Tolstoy is portraying:

"The old princess did not reply, she was tormented by jealousy of her daughter’s happiness."

Ibid. (Kindle Locations 20625-20626).

(Book 3, Chapter I has a reference to her as "the stout princess." One can just keep collecting information about Tolstoy's characters.)

I am confused by Tolstoy's portrayal of Helene. On one hand, she is presented as a vapid, even immoral, airhead, including Pierre's reaction to her as "stupid" and his musings on her reputation relative to her brother Anatole. (See especially near end of Chapter 1, Book 3.) On the other, she is presented as a charming and intelligent hostess, trained by Anna Pavlovna (and her father, perhaps her mother) in the demands and ways of royal (political) society. (In parts of Book 3, Anna Pavolovna comes close to being as much a procuress [ala a Vermeer painting?] as a matchmaker -- to be very harsh about her character traits for a moment. In fact, one might even extend the comment to her suggestion in Book 1, Chapter 1, as to Princess Marya being a possible mate for Anatole!)

* I include this with definite tongue-in-cheek: http://www.essentialvermeer.com/catal...

See bordeeltje link for relationship to Prodigal Son stories.

:-o ;-)

Patrice wrote: "In contrast we have Pierre who is intelligent but does not have the ability and training to play the game. He's not interested in playing anyway. What he is interested in (truth and goodness, meaning and purpose) are foreign to these society people so he is an outsider.
"

Pierre seems to have his heart in the right place, but part of the problem, as it seems to me, is that he lacks intelligence. His "idealism" is turning out to be primarily emotional. His dedication to the tenets of Masonry has worn thin, and he seems a bit lost. He is definitely sensitive, but intelligent? His solution for everything seems to be to give his money away. He's a loveable character, but I'm not convinced of his intelligence at this point.

"Practical intelligence," yes! It's what Andrei has that Pierre lacks -- skillfulness. On the other hand, Andrei lacks Pierre's heart. Together they complement each other nicely.

Thomas wrote: "He is definitely sensitive, but intelligent? His solution for everything seems to be to give his money away. He's a loveable character, but I'm not convinced of his intelligence at this point. "

He never came across as intelligent to me. Very sensitive and impressionable, but not particularly intelligent. As for being lovable, I really didn't learn to love him until almost near the end of the book. He was the last of the main characters that I developed an emotional attachment to.

Patrice wrote: "I think Helene is an expression of Tolstoy's contempt for the social scene."

Agreed.

It is odd how almost everyone who comes into contact with Helene thinks she is brilliant. I think she is a shallow but effective hostess who can bring people together and put them at ease. I don't think she is evil.

well stupid is as stupid does... so he probably qualifies :-) However just because he's not intelligent doesn't mean he's shallow, which he's not. He's also kind. And a kind dim-witted person person can be a lot better company than an unkind intelligent person :-)

I know this is not really drawing from the words of the text, but somehow I didn't get a sense that Pierre's father was the kind of man who would have sent a "stupid" son, albeit a bastard son, off for a probably expensive, certainly extensive, education in a foreign land, let alone bequeathed him a vast fortune.

Lily wrote: "I know this is not really drawing from the words of the text, but somehow I didn't get a sense that Pierre's father was the kind of man who would have sent a "stupid" son, albeit a bastard son, off..."

I'm not comfortable with the characterization of Pierre as "stupid". But I think we can make a judgement based on his thoughts and actions, as voiced by Tolstoy, more readily than we can by speculating on what his father was thinking when he sent him to school before the story begins. Or do we actually know what his father was thinking?

Patrice wrote: "Oh, I have to agree with Lily here. The Count had many childlren. That he chose this one to be his heir and to receive a first rate education indicates something.

I can't pinpoint how or why I f..."

I thought the old count chose Pierre because he understood that Pierre cared about him. There was a moment between them, when the old man's arm fell aside, and Pierre looked so pained and the old count smiled at that. Pierre could feel the pain of the father's old age.

I think we are seeing Pierre, more than any other character in the book, from the inside. He sees himself as foolish and blundering, and that is how he is presented, as if he were the narrator.

From Book 8, Chapter 1, on Pierre

"For Moscow society Pierre was the nicest, kindest, most intellectual, merriest, and most magnanimous of cranks, a heedless, genial nobleman of the old Russian type. His purse was always empty because it was open to everyone."

TOLSTOY, LEO (2011-03-20). Delphi Complete Works of Leo Tolstoy (Illustrated) (Kindle Locations 30619-30621). Delphi Classics.

Patrice wrote: "...I'm thinking eccentric is the closest...."

That was my (quick) interpretation. Perhaps a bit able to have his own way, even if he didn't always know what he wanted that to be.

Lily wrote: "Theresa wrote: "Athena also sealed the fate of Medusa (because she conceived with Poseidon inside a temple to athena) causing men to hate her henceforth (turning her hair to snakes or some such..) ..."

You lost me, Theresa. Certainly there is misogyny, or at the least, chauvinism, in Athena springing directly from the head of Zeus? Or in the spates of Hera and Zeus?

My comment #46 was poorly worded and I wished I hadn't posted it because it is hard for me to properly explain the concepts involved.
This might help a little perhaps?
http://www.jstor.org/discover/10.2307...


Athena was not born of a woman. She was often a patron of male activities, was she not? The idea of demonized women had a lot to do with what the witch hunts were all about. The snakey haired female-rage image of the beheaded medusa is certainly witch-like.